Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Reading the X-Files: Mulder and Scully's "Partnership" and the Question of Queer Marriage, Empedocles (8X17)



(I'm going to be doing a few of these as I'm studying the show closely for a paper I'm writing; they're close readings of intellectually compelling moments in specific episodes. For the blog, I'm going to stick to moments about pregnancy, fertility/infertility, parenting, and queer stuff. Hopefully you'll find them interesting.)

There are a million things I love about the X Files:
  1. The incredible hotness of the protagonists.
  2. The gonzo way nothing ever makes good sense but somehow it is always AWESOME.
  3. That there are spaceships and hot girls with guns .
  4. That the government simultaneously is evil and full of good people who want to save the world.
  5. Did I mention the hotness? Oh, I did? Let me say it again. THE HOTNESS.
Tell me you don't kinda want to make out with at least one of these people.

But what I really love is the relationship between Mulder and Scully. Here we have a smokin' hot vibe between two gorgeous people who are totally devoted to each other, which is simultaenously not a standard heterosexual love story. Despite the fact that we get teased about it plenty, we don't get any mushyness until nearly the end of the serious--the first kiss comes in season 7, and it's not even unambiguous that they're involved until season 8, and then just barely. Instead, we see the World's Longest, Smartest Seduction, consisting of moments of comfort and protection as the world is ending, a never-ending procession of banter and flirtation, and a lot of time spent in hospital beds. They reverse typical gender performances: Scully is the scientist, the rationalist, the hard-edged one, while Mulder is all feelings, hunches, instinct. They are equally likely to do caring work for each other, as well; this is a relationship built on equality and cooperation, at work and (presumably) outside of it.

And it gets really interesting when they're having a kid.

The expectant parents and a large pizza.

(OK, ten-second recap: Scully's infertile due to alien abduction, Mulder stole her eggs from the humans who work with the aliens, they try to conceive via IVF and fail, she *magically* gets pregnant with a baby that may or may not be an alien hybrid implanted by the bad guys and simultaneously he gets abducted by aliens, he is returned dead and they bury him, then they dig him up and he's not dead anymore. There's no explicit proof within show canon that they've ever slept together up to the point we're talking about, but there are significant hints, and there has been no definitive statement about the parentage of the baby. Does that make sense? No? Go with it, Scully, as Mulder would say. Just remember the writers were probably high at the time.)

The episode I'm talking about here is Empedocles (TWoP recap; Episode Transcript). This is the second episode after Mulder has come back to life. In the previous episode (Three Words), he has said he feels cut off, out of place, doesn't know where he fits in, and it's clear he means with with regard to Scully and her pregnancy. There is no on-camera discussion of the paternity of the child, although a minor character later asks him about his possible involvement, which results in a Serious Mulder-Scully Mutual Look (if you've ever seen the show, you know what I mean). By my reading, they seem to be on the same page, and that page is that Mulder is most definitely 'involved.' However, his exact relationship to Scully and the baby is left purposely unclear, in part because of doubt that the baby is really human. Three Words ended with Scully driving getaway vehicle for Mulder's bust into a federal data facility: that is, everything normal except for the Scully Waistline Situation (she's at about 7 months, and looks fantastic, as Gillian Anderson always does, even in the early, puffy-hair-and-white-tights phase, and the strange, long-hair-and-sad-looks Season 9 thing).

The scenes from Empedocles that I want to analyze here are 3 and 4 in the transcript. Mulder shows up on Scully's doorstep unexpectedly. They engage in supercute banter: Rational!Scully has an attack of pregnancy brain, Mulder posits the pizza delivery boy as a possible father for the baby, there is a significant double entendre around the phrase "nice package," etc. The attitude is light, lighter than usual for them; the vibe is definitely more couple than friends, but, as with everything on this show, it's not perfectly clear.

There is this exchange:

SCULLY: I feel like I'm stuck in an episode of Mad About You.

MULDER: Well, uh, yeah, but small technicality. Mad About You was about a married couple and we just work together.

SCULLY: Yeah, well, you know what I'm talking about.

MULDER: I do, I do.


This is the show's greatest fiction: they "just work together." People, these folks are in six kinds of lurve. They've called each other best friend, soulmate, touchstone, only person I can trust, and a million other things. He was the executor of her living will as early as season 2. They tried to have a kid together, and then succeeded (I believe). When his body was discovered and then again at his funeral, she was treated as a widow. These people? Are. So. Totally. Together.

But what they are isn't named. The only word they ever use to describe who they are to each other to the outside world is 'partner.' The word was given to them by the FBI, but, of course, it has a double meaning: it's what most queer folks, and a growing contingent of radical folks in heterosexual relationships call their significant others. Mulder and Scully aren't married; in fact, it's meant to be unclear if they are even in a romantic or sexual relationship. (But they so totally are.) The name they have for it is ambiguous: they "just work together." But when Scully says, "You know what I mean," look what he says: "I do, I do." I don't think it's irrelevant that he responds to her assertion (that they've become a quipping sitcom couple, complete with bad pizza man jokes) with marriage words. In that moment, whatever the world thinks, the solidity and commitment of their relationship is established. They're partners. Just the type for whom the word means forever.

Then, crisis. Scully doubles over in pain, clutching her belly. Mulder rushes to her side, orders the pizza guy to call 911. We cut to Scully being rushed into the hospital on a guerney, Mulder holding her hand, the nurse knowing her name. (It's been a dramatic pregnancy.) Mulder corrects the nurse on the gender of Scully's OB-GYN, and we get this exchange.

ER NURSE: Who are you? The husband?

MULDER: No.

ER NURSE: Then you wait outside.


Scully is whisked away, and Mulder is left alone, looking desperate. My beloved wife, at this point in the episode, said "Come on. Everyone knows the right answer to that question is yes." And we know this, because we know if we were ever somewhere without our legal paperwork, the question would be "Are you her sister?" and the answer would be "yes," without a doubt, because there is no way we would be separated. Scully and Mulder, partners-which-means-everything, are separated here becasue they don't have the magic words. Partnership, that safe word that can mean "we just work together" or can mean "we aren't telling the government we're fucking" or "we disagree about the structural utility of the institution of marriage" or "we are too busy saving the world to pick out a china pattern" is here shown to be socially less, to be entirely insufficient at the moment of crisis. He can't do anything but stand there.

Although it isn't explicit, I want to read a critique of the dominance of 'marriage' into this moment. No one watching this show has any doubt about the fact that Mulder should have followed Scully into that ER. After all, they seem to spend all their time in ERs together. It's like date night in X-Files-land. Because this is a "personal" crisis (e.g., neither of them has been shot, abducted by aliens or serial killers, or attacked by goo), the badge-flashing routine doesn't work here, so they are forcibly separated. Because their "partnership" does not map on to our conventional notions of how relationships should be patterned, an injustice is done in that waiting room.

What is the solution here? Is it for Mulder and Scully to get married? Emphatically, no, at least in my opinion. (OK, if they show up in the movie that's coming out this summer wearing wedding rings, I'm not going to be upset. In fact, I'ma squee like the crazy mushy fangirl I am. Not that it's gonna happen.) They don't need to be married. No one needs to be married. Mulder and Scully don't need the approval of God and the District of Columbia to establish who they are to each other. All they need is a Crown Victoria, a pair of Sig Sauers, and an alien invasion to fight.

The solution I would articulate would be to allow people to determine their own words and practices. The question would be "Are you the next of kin?" The metaphysical state of marriage would be reserved for those who desired it (like myself, which I should talk about sometime). The legal state of becoming a family would be available to any arrangement of individuals who agreed to care for each other, regardless of whether their relationships were romantic, sexual, or biological. Mulder and Scully can just be Mulder and Scully (and potentially extraterrestrial fetus makes three). But in a world of compulsory heterosexuality and the sanctity of marriage, Mulder stands on the wrong side of the ER doors, waiting with the pizza men of the world for something to change.



Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Notes on California

  • I've never in my life lived anywhere but the northeastern US. Frankly, I doubt the rest of the country exists most of the time. So it says something Deep and Significant that, within 24 hours of getting off the plane, I was picking out real estate. I really freakin' love the Bay Area. North Bay more than South Bay, but, really, the whole thing. I'd move here in a hot second.
  • We spent a subtle chunk of our time here checking out potential places for me to teach eventually, in a sneaky way. Today's trip to Palo Alto to wander around Stanford got canceled once we saw how long it would take on the train, but we did get to see both UC Santa Cruz and San José State. The Verdicts: Santa Cruz looks a little bit like if you went to college in a summer camp. I would be worried about possible bear attacks as I walked between classes. That much nature intimidates my urban self. San José is cute, and there is a decent used book store that is apparently run by people who like to make a ruckus--they got arrested trying to pass out fliers at the main campus bookstore.
  • I've always said I want to raise my kids in a city, mainly to protect against the white-middle-class hegemony of the suburbs, as I experienced them, in addition to my deep loathing of sprawl. But what we've been seeing out here aren't the suburban-sprawl monstrosities of my youth, precisely; they're nice small towns, with walkable centers and functional public transportation systems, located along the outer edges of cities. None of the towns I've seen out here have been entirely car-unnecessary, but they are more car-optional than the town we grew up in; while one might want a car, it wouldn't be necessary for trips to the weekend farmer's market, or the book store, or going out to dinner, if one picked where to live with an eye towards walkability. In addition, Santa Clara County (where we are staying) is roughly 30% Asian and a quarter Latina/o; the suburban town where our friends live is 14% Asian and 13% Latina/o. By comparison, the county where we grew up (which includes one majority-black small city that is geographically and socially isolated from the upper-middle-class suburbs) is 18% black, 4% Asian, and 2% Latina/o. So, is living in ethnically diverse suburbs that are not patterned around sprawl ethically distinct from living in other sorts of suburbs? Is what I want urbanity, or do I just want not to need a car and to raise my kids away from monolithic whiteness?
  • It's spring out here. It's tortuous how beautiful it is. And both strawberries AND asparagus are in season already. Seriously, have I mentioned I would move here in a heartbeat yet?


Sunday, March 16, 2008

Willa By The Bay

Escape From New York Pizza,
at the intersection of Castro and 18th, San Francisco, CA


We decided to celebrate Willa graduating from embryo to fetus by taking her to California for the week.

OK, so it's my spring break, and it was our turn to visit some friends who live in Silicon Valley. Kate survived her first pregnant flight quite well--and without her usual Valium fix to conquer her fear of take off and landing, or even a Benedryl to put her to sleep. Turns out Continental serves palatable gluten-free meals, although their vegan meal left something to be desired (a truly uninspiring veggie burger).

Willa and her mothers are faring well in the lovely Bay Area sunshine, enjoying time with our friends, the brilliance that is the Ferry Terminal Market, and three hours of time change. I'd say blogging might be spotty...but we're staying in the most techno-dense house I've ever been in, so we're probably going to be blogging just as much, because why not?

Also I have a post mostly written about the X-Files. So that'll be coming soon.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Sympathy: A Guessing Game

OK, folks, it's a game. Guess which of these women is pregnant, and which one is merely copying, based on this list of symptoms.

Wife #1:
  • Nausea
  • Involuntary Napping
  • Cravings for Hearts of Romaine (no other lettuce will do)
  • Aversion to Bananas and Coffee
  • Fuzzy Brain
  • Sore Breasts

Wife #2:
  • Insomnia
  • Cravings for Chocolate (especially Mounds Bars)
  • Mood Swings
  • Compulsive Cleaning/Nesting
  • Inability to Focus or Complete Regular Tasks

Guess correctly, and you will win...applause? Internet applause?

OK, it's probably not that hard to tell, but I'm finding it amusing. My sympathetic pregnancy is in full swing, y'all.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

On fathers and pants

So, it's been almost two weeks since the internets have heard from us. We're fine, our lives are just crazy and getting used to this pregnancy thing is really weird. Over the last two weeks, both our fathers have been in the hospital (different ones, although they are within ten miles of each other) for various serious ailments. We went home this past weekend to be helpful and it made us so tired that I'm not entirely sure that either of us has recovered. Of course, there is the physical tired (which my newly pregnant self isn't coping with well, considering the level of exhaustion I've been experiencing to begin with) and there is the emotional tired, which is more difficult to address but after dealing with our families in crisis is always pretty damn high.

On a non-family of origin note, a few weeks ago, Emily had made a RSS feed on craigslist for maternity clothes and discovered a women from the next neighborhood over given away for free two bags of maternity clothes. At the time we laughed about taking in these clothes SO early, tempting the Gods, etc. And yet, my pants I wear to work have been getting quite snug by the end of the day, causing me to put on pajama pants the moment I get home (many thanks to my mother-in-law, who bought me two new pairs for Christmas.) In a bout of cleaning this afternoon, Emily made me take off my pants so that she could wash them. A very good thing for all involved, but it left me pantsless, which caused me to do something that I've been putting off for a while, trying on all my pants to see which ones still fit. It was kind of sad, two pairs I cannot button, three pairs are quite snug, two pairs will be good for a little while and that's all the pants I own. Laughing at my exertions, Emily suggested that I try the maternity pants in the bag we got. Figuring why not, I went to the dining room and tried them on...and they felt comfortable and fit. This has completely knocked me for a loop. I was kidding when I tried them on. I'm not quite seven weeks pregnant. I have gained 1 pound. Why do maternity jeans fit more comfortably than any other pants? This is feeding into my slight paranoia that I'm having twins. My grandfather was a twin, so I'm not completely making this fear up. My first midwife appointment is until I'm 9w3d, so I have a long two and a half weeks before I get this question answered. Oh my.