Recently, Dr. Merlin was surfing around her favorite websites, and found a link to an essay regarding the unfortunate portrayal of race issues in a particular fandom. Having had those same thoughts about the fandom in question, Dr. Merlin also clicked on a discussion elsewhere about the essay, hoping it would spark conversations about the subject and perhaps even in some small way influence the direction of that fandom. Instead, she found dozens of comments attacking minor points of canon in the essay (something that happened in one season instead of another) and many others caught between, "I never saw a problem," and, "Why did the writer have to pick on our fandom when it's clearly a societal issue?" There was even a comment suggesting the author should have gone after the entertainment industry at large rather than criticizing a single series. (Dr. Merlin tends to think that the soul of an essay derives from limiting one's argument to something that can be discussed in less than three thousand footnoted pages, but this is her own opinion.)

That this same scene has happened this week in two different fandoms is not improving Dr. Merlin's temper, especially since the week isn't over yet.

When someone points out something unsavory about one's favorite show, it's hard. As fans, we love our shows. If we didn't, we wouldn't be here reading and discussing them all the time. We might be online elsewhere, chatting about our other hobbies, or we might be engaging in the perennial flamewars on the fish fancier websites. (People who keep goldfish in tiny bowls are exactly the same as Hitler. Trufax.) Instead, or sometimes in addition, we talk about our shows and our movies and our books. Sometimes we squee about two characters being on-screen together. Sometimes we analyze the fire imagery as it builds over a season-long arc. Sometimes we look for symbolism in the clothing during a particular episode of a cartoon because we have free time and someone dared us to. For the most part, this process of analysis and squee is highly enjoyable. There are going to be a few "get a life"ers, but there always are. Responses usually tend to be in the range of sharing the squee to pointing out even more details that support the theory, to the simple but gratifying, "Wow, I never looked at it that way before."

And then there are the essays and posts and metas that are just as thought out and well-researched as the "Shakespearean Nods in Season Four" essays but are instead describing an aspect of the series that isn't squeeful but, on reflection, is actually pretty skeevy. Then the reactions are sure to include, "It's just a TV show!" and "You have too much time on your hands," and "You can find a problem like that in any show, so why are you complaining?" and Dr. Merlin's personal favorite, "If it bothers you so much, stop watching." These responses are as predictable as the sunrise, and no doubt show up on several bingo cards.

But why?

Why, when someone brings up a problematic aspect with the series in question, does it elicit such quick, vehement, and negative responses? What is it about describing, or worse, expressing one's own discomfort over the trend of a series to kill off all the Black characters or a measurable increase in misogynistic dialogue over the lifetime of that series? To turn the question back, if it's just a TV series, what's the big deal with pointing out where the show went wrong?

The answers are no doubt plentiful.  Let us examine a few.

First and foremost, we must understand that as fans, we love our shows. Not in the way that America loved Friends and Seinfeld, but in a true, deep, obsessive, occasionally scary sort of way. We are not as a rule frightening people, but we do pay hundreds of dollars to fly thousands of miles to sit in hotel rooms and talk about our favorite television shows. We're invested in our shows in a way that mundanes get invested in sports teams, politics, and lawn care. We name our children after the characters we love on our shows. (Dr. Merlin's elder sprog is named after a '80s cartoon character, her younger sprog is named after a character on Stargate, her dog is named after a Star Trek character, her cat is named after a Thundercats fanfiction character, and the various residents of the fish tank are all named after characters from the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon. Last week, she met someone who named her son Xander after the Buffy character. She has friends who nearly named their son Shatner. Normal happens to other people.) We write fanfiction and draw fanart, we spend time and money buying servers and domain names to set up the perfect website, we run mailing lists and LJ comms, and we join con staffs. We wrap our identities up with our shows, roleplaying the characters, taking their names as our handles. We give our time and our money and our energy, because we love and we believe.

When someone takes the thing that we love and calls it less than beautiful (even a fractured, flawed beauty -- again note the '80s cartoons motif in my household) we often see the description as applying to our own work and our own efforts. If the underlying canon has racist subtext, that means my fanfiction might have racist subtext because I am using the same background material. If my fanfiction has racist subtext, that means I'm a racist. And I know I'm not a racist. I wouldn't enjoy canon that was racist, either. So the canon can't be racist. So you're wrong. *insert extra ad hominem attacks as necessary* If you've just shown me that the show I like is sexist, but I still like it and didn't notice, then you're really saying I'm sexist. And I can't be sexist because I'm female / a nice guy. So you're wrong. And so on.

We take it personally when the show we love is shown for what it is and what it does. We don't like seeing our beloved series "picked on" or "bullied" by someone else, and we get very defensive about protecting it. After all, the show makes us happy. If I started seeing things your way, started hearing the insults and reading the subtext every time I watched, I will be less happy. I know this because I can see that you are less happy now that you've noticed. And we're all here for the happy. So you should just go, since you're unhappy, and leave me be.

It's hard, too, to break out of one's sense of being right with the world. Very very rarely will you encounter someone who says, "I'm at position X on various issues, even though I ought to be at position Y." Usually, people think that they're just right. Anyone who is more attuned than you to racism, misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia, or any other form of bigotry can be written off as "too sensitive" / "too PC," while anyone who is less attuned is who you compare yourself to in order to feel better about your own positions, while you hope they wise up someday. Ergo, if someone has noticed a (sub)textual issue you did not, either you have to accept that you're not where you ought to be in terms of identifying racism/sexism/homophobia/etc. and work on changing that (see: knapsacks, on the unpacking of), or you have to find a way to make yourself feel better about not noticing. Attacking the messenger is a pretty popular response. (see "How to Be a Fandom Jerk in Just a Few Easy Steps")

It's even harder when one is dealing with a writer (or writing staff) who gets so much right, who makes important points and tells important stories and represents groups who otherwise get overlooked. One wants to cheer when Joss represents for feminism or when Rusty writes canon gay and bisexual characters kicking ass. How much harder then it is to step back and say, "Dudes, your track record on characters of color sucks rocks." It means we haven't found the One True Writer. It means that no matter how much one writer might show his credentials for creating interesting, racially diverse casts, he still can drop the ball on female characters. It also means that despite liking Aaron Sorkin's work quite a lot, some of us who are me still want to punch him in the groin for his potshots at fandom, but I digress.

So what can you do? Your squee has been harshed. Someone has shown you the clay feet of your favorite idol. Do you go on the defensive? Do you strike back? Do you throw up your hands, declare it was all for naught, and take up fish fancying? (Erm, not in a Troy McClure fashion, please. Never do I want to read the words, "His wife? A goldfish." As long as we're clear.)

Dr. Merlin can help.

First, decide if you can handle the discussion. Seriously. There are times when the subjects under debate are going to be very triggery. Fandom is there for your fun and enjoyment. Is there anything in this discussion that's going to give you panic attacks, flashbacks, or other damage to your ability to function in the real world? If so, think about stepping back and away. Don't announce it to the world (though you may want to drop a line to your friends in case they worry) just walk away from the computer or go elsewhere online for a while. If you do decide to press on, because it's important to you and you're willing to handle not being able to sleep well for a month, then at least surround yourself with things that will help you ease your transition from online issues to offline sanity.

Next, find out what people are saying. Research. Don't just reply angrily to the first person on your Flist who mentions it, go read through what's been said. Your comment may have been written by someone else and generated a response already, and it may bring up something you haven’t thought of yet. Do find out exactly what people are saying is wrong. A discussion Dr. Merlin once read regarded the FX series The Shield. One side argued that the series was anti-racist, in that the protagonists were portrayed as unsympathetic racists who were building towards a final, violent comeuppance. The other side argued that it didn't matter what the intent was, because except for one or two exceptions, all the minority characters on the series were portrayed as one-dimensional stereotypes living up to and reinforcing the protagonists' beliefs, thus leading to an overall racist canon. (Dr. Merlin has never seen the show, and is merely trying to represent the views as presented in that particular discussion.) The two groups, while trying to have an argument, were arguing about two different aspects of the same show; determining which aspect is the one upsetting people is important.

If you want to say that the problem in question is with the character(s), not with the show, ask yourself what the show is trying to tell you. Is it condoning or condemning the behavior? How do the other characters react? Is the primary character in question punished somehow on-screen, and if so, is it as a result of the behavior or is the character made into a martyr?  If your inclination is to call someone "too sensitive" on a subject, keep in mind s/he has probably come to this point after seeing this same dumb trope played out over and over and over, and once more was too much.

Read up on the particular actions and/or words that are being called into question. If it's a demographic issue, find out about population details. "I didn't notice" implies a lack of knowledge on your part, and "I wasn't offended" implies privilege. Learn what it means. Learn why it matters. You may not care when you're done, and no one is going to make you care, but you should at least recognize a stereotype when it's in front of you. Also figure out how to spot a trend: once could be a mistake, twice could be a coincidence, three (or more) times is either intent or bloody stupidity. The first time it upsets someone is just as valid to complain about as the fifteenth, but if you haven't noticed by the latter, the fault is not in the people bringing it to your attention.

Don't assume intent. If a fellow fan is describing something she finds skeevy in the canon, don't assume she's just saying it to stir things up. If you look back at her previous posts, she was probably just as squeeful as you about another aspect of the show. When we care so very much about our canon, it hurts when canon betrays our trust. When characters of color are written out or killed, when female characters are treated in gender-specific derogatory ways (such as making the majority of female characters prostitutes, thus giving rise to the Frank Miller test), when gay and bi characters randomly go evil and get killed, we cringe. We see a part of ourselves there on the screen with the cast, and we are told that part has no place at the table. We are told it's okay not to include us, to treat us as lesser, to use us to motivate the much more important other characters. We get told by our canon to shut up, be grateful for what we've got, stop complaining or go away. When our fellow fans say the same things after we point this out, we kind of want to hit people or set things on fire. (Possibly that's just Dr. Merlin.)

If you learn something from the process, say so. Maybe you never realized that the crows in "Dumbo" or the blackfish character in "The Little Mermaid" were drawn from stereotypes until you looked closer into the early history of animated portrayals of African Americans. Now you notice. That's a step. When someone else from TLM fandom comes along to say "I didn't notice," you can pass her the info. Maybe you accepted the high scantily-clad-female bodycount in your favorite show from the '80s because you liked the other characters, and later learned about how violence is sexualized in the media. Use that knowledge to see how far TV has come, and how much further we have yet to go, and yes, complain when you see it happening again. Praise and celebrate the good things, sure, always. That's why we're here. But also push the show to do better next time and say thanks when it does.

Accept the fact that your fandom, yes yours, has issues. Accept that we're not independent from societal and cultural norms, and that the writers on television (and movies and books) are not going to be independent from the world. They are going to carry the culture into their fiction despite their best intentions. Know that this is going to happen. And then keep demanding better. Believe they're capable of better, that your fandom (yes, even that one!) has the chance to be at the forefront of change rather than a dim reflection of something we already know is flawed. Don't settle for "good enough" because we’re already living there, and it's not. We don't need every show to be a utopia, but we do need people, fans and showrunners both, to stand up and say, "This is not right. This is why it is not right. And this is what I am going to do to change things."

If you want to make fun of the people standing, that's your call. Dr. Merlin has her matches ready.