The Poppies of Terra #41 - A Woman's Trek

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (1993-1999) remains my favorite Star Trek series, and Kira Nerys, as portrayed by Nana Visitor, remains my all-time favorite Trek character. Several years ago I was excited to hear that Visitor was going to be interviewing women who had appeared on various Trek shows and writing a nonfiction book. The result of her dedication and hard work are evident in the recently-published Star Trek: Open a Channel: A Woman’s Trek. It’s one of the most interesting and significant nonfiction Trek books in a long time–essential reading.

Visitor appeared in all but two of the show’s 176 episodes, in itself a notable accomplishment. During these seven years she delivered knockout performances that, while memorable individually, accrue even greater luster when seen as pearls woven together to shape her character’s long-term arc, one of the richest and most satisfying on television. Yet, it’s the impressive work Visitor has done outside of her own acting that makes her book so remarkable.

Over the course of an Introduction, thirty-nine main chapters, a Conclusion, and a bonus “Inspired and Inspirational” section delving into some of the life stories of notable women who saw female Trek characters as role models, Visitor has simultaneously written a compelling mosaic history of a modern pop culture phenomenon fast approaching its sixtieth year, a well-researched chronicle of changing social values and attitudes related to gender, and a moving work of self-reflection. One of the book’s recurring questions, as she writes in the Introduction, is “What were the cultural currents flowing against women?” Part of Visitor’s work revolves around examining the “cultural amber” of each of the time periods she explores, from the early 1960s through the latest, still ongoing, productions. The farther back she peers, the seemingly easier the currents are to spot, though her own process of self-assessment adds fascinating interrogative layers along the way. While Visitor often has a clearly defined point of view, rooted in facts and documented accounts, she concludes her Introduction by saying: “There are too many women’s voices out there to think there won’t be different opinions on all of this. Writing the book has changed me in a palpable way, but this is only one woman’s eyes and ears on the subject. Think of it like this: I’m opening a channel. Let’s talk on the bandwidth that for me, through all these years, has started with a smile of recognition for each other.”

Starting with a general setting of the Trek stage, and offering some concise thoughts on women characters as depicted in original series episodes such as “Elaan of Troyius” (an admittedly atypical representation), “Who Mourns for Adonais?”, “Space Seed”, “Turnabout Intruder”, “The Cage”, and “Mudd’s Women”, Visitor introduces several concepts that prove important throughout, including that of performative sexuality, how women were actually lensed (and, later, whether or not they were given the same types of “hero shots” as their male counterparts), and where the emotional focus was drawn for viewers, namely the man’s experience or the woman’s. The significance of Nichelle Nichols’ iconic role as Lt. Uhura–which inspired astronaut Mae Jemison, politician Stacey Abrams, actor Whoopi Goldberg, and many, many others–, awarded its own chapter later, cannot be overstated and is rightfully mentioned repeatedly in the remainder of the book. In the volume’s early chapters Visitor explains how Lucille Ball not only owned and ran the studio that created Star Trek (and supported it through two pilots), but that Ball backed it as a candidate for reruns, thus helping to ensure its longevity. Visitor considers the women who appeared in the classic show as guest stars, relays thoughts shared by Andreea Kindryd, Gene L. Coon’s then assistant, and examines the significance of Dorothy Fontana’s numerous contributions. Majel-Barrett-Roddenberry and Grace Lee Whitney are also discussed in individual chapters.

The following main point of focus is The Next Generation–which almost never came to be, as Visitor notes, save for Lucie Salhany’s suggestion that it could be made for first-run syndication as opposed to straight network television. TNG was birthed in the 80s, and Visitor helpfully reminds us of what the times were like: “Popular TV offered us Designing Women, The Cosby Show, and L.A. Law. Oprah’s daytime talk show gave us women who questioned the patriarchy they lived in. More women were graduating college than ever before, and as a result, the Eighties saw a lot of progress for women. Sandra Day O’Connor became the first woman on the Supreme Court, Geraldine Ferraro was nominated to run as a vice presidential candidate in 1984, and Sally Ride became the first American woman in space (Valentina Tereshkova had become the first woman in space, in 1963, but was not trained as an astronaut. It seems that this was a publicity opportunity for the Soviet Union).” This type of attention to historical detail is consistently helpful as Visitor moves through the decades. Her approach to TNG follows the pattern established with TOS: a general introduction and then dedicated deep-dives for each female lead, in this case Denise Crosby, Gates McFadden, Marina Sirtis, along with Majel-Barrett-Roddenberry in her second Trek incarnation, and Alice Krige. I enjoyed learning, among numerous other facts, that Tasha’s eulogy in “Skin of Evil” was written by Hannah Shearer.

When Visitor asked Gates McFadden what she wanted young people to learn from her, McFadden provided a beautiful response: “To find the strength to be the best of themselves, to not be held back by society, and to really look at themselves like a scientist. Why do I feel that way? Why does this upset me? Always remain curious, always wanting to learn.” This questioning spirit is later amplified by comments made by Mike McMahan, creator of Lower Decks, and several other interview subjects. Visitor often references the stereotypical categories women were placed in, as in for example, Denise Crosby’s “Female Warrior” box, and the difficulties in breaking beyond these externally-imposed limitations. When examining each character, Visitor provides a survey of their most important episodes, and probes the evolution of the character from their inception to their final appearances. The trajectories of Crusher and Troi make for excellent analyses, particularly in their relationships with other female characters. “Dark Page,” for instance––again, an episode written by a woman, in this case Hilary J. Bader–adds wonderful depth to Troi’s dynamic with her mother. Regarding Troi’s influence, Visitor remarks: “As I was writing this book, countless women came forward and told me that Troi’s calmness, kindness, and confidence inspired them to become therapists themselves. Counselor Troi is a large stone thrown into the global lake, whose positive ripple effect continues to this day.”

As we enter the franchise era in which Visitor herself became a series regular, we see the influx of other female perspectives in various production capacities, including those of Jeri Taylor, Lisa Klink, Wendy Neuss and Merri Howard. We learn of Visitor’s professional background, how she internalized certain assumptions about the kinds of roles she would get to play, and various personal lifelines, like her friendship with makeup artist Camille Calvert. Visitor uses the recounting of her early experiences, both in acting and her personal life, to think back on her own actions from a critical stance informed by her recent studies and re-evaluations, as for instance when she candidly says, “I would take it on as my responsibility to manage a man’s ego and make myself smaller, in order to be loved.” Visitor’s account of her transition from film to television, the direct result of negative experiences at the hands of men, including extreme verbal denigration and sexual assault by a director, is disturbing. Her later kidnapping, rape, and trial participation while in the midst of DS9 are viscerally difficult material, told in an unvarnished way. How challenging it must have been for Visitor to articulate these experiences as she does; kudos to her strength and vulnerability, as well as for modeling a behavior that could help inspire others tell their own stories. Pertaining to DS9, Visitor observes that it was making Terry Farrel’s Dax an alien that gave the character, as with Kira, full human experiences. “Star Trek allows aliens to be the leads of their own stories,” Visitor writes. “Since most of us feel like aliens at one point or another in our lives, this is a very hopeful message.” Mentions of nurturing relationships between women, such as the mentorship of Penny Johnson Jerald, who played Kassidy Yates, by Sally Feinstein, add another positive note.

Visitor’s astuteness, and deep engagement with her material, continue to shine through in her coverage of Voyager, with Kate Mulgrew’s pivotal portrayal of Captain Janeway inspiring legions of girls to later become scientists working for NASA or the ESA. Visitor makes frequent reference to the Bechdel test, as when for instance she talks about scenes between Kira and Dax on DS9, or Janeway and Seven of Nine on VOY; it’s a useful marker to measure progress from series to series. Janeway’s maternal role with Seven of Nine is grounded in plenty of episode specifics, and Seven herself is described in a truly eye-opening way: “an avatar many different groups of people could claim as their own in the same way that Spock, Data, and Dax were, but maybe for even a wider group: She was an abused child; she was a survivor of trauma; she was a victim of a cult; she was queer; she was neurodiverse; she was every woman who has been valued for her appearance but is so much more; she was anyone who struggled to find their true self and fit into a world where they felt othered.” Further chapters on Jennifer Lien as Kes and Roxann Dawson as B’Elanna Torres (a character who inspired, among others, Andrea Boyd, “professional engineer, mining control system specialist, and International Space Station flight controller”) are handled sensitively and with great insight. The intelligence, grit and work ethic of Roxann Dawson, who has become a successful and celebrated director in her own right, come through in vivid and admirable colors. 

While Enterprise’s treatment of women–why don't fans, Visitor genuinely wonders, cite T’Pol and Hoshi as inspirational characters?–didn’t seem to advance the cause, it does usefully anticipate an important truth Visitor shares towards the book’s end: “...what has been achieved can very quickly be taken away, and that all the accomplishments can be buried.” As TNG’s “The Drumhead” eloquently put it, “Vigilance […] that is the price we have to continually pay.” Indications of renewed forward movement can be seen in the chapters on Sonequa Martin-Green’s work as Michael Burnham, number one on the Discovery call sheet, and in the leadership role she assumed not just as her character, but in her taking on producer responsibilities by the fourth season, as well as via Sylvia Tilly having a “reverse-engineering effect” on actor Mary Wiseman. More gains are evident in Visitor’s interviews with Christina Chong, Melissa Navia, and Jess Bush (playing a new version of Nurse Chapel) from Strange New Worlds. 

The “Inspired and Inspirational” section includes pages on Italian astronaut Samantha Cristoforetti, U. S. Army Chaplain Major Mel Baars O’Malley, and other women with remarkable stories of their own. Phrases used for personal motivation or to summon ethical courage, like “Do it for Beverly”, or “What would Guinan do?”, add personal pathos to these narratives of grand accomplishment. Visitor’s “Thank you,” as well as the text itself, mentions Jessica Nordell’s The End of Bias: A Beginning and Jess Zimmerman’s Women and Other Monsters, clearly transformative to Visitor and worth citing here. Credit is also due to Malea Clark-Nicholson for the book’s interior design; the layouts are tasteful and visually striking, the photographs and their legends tell their own story, and the whole book production is of superior quality. (I did notice the copyeditor let slip through a few minor repetitions, for example the duplication of the text starting with “As Laura Behr, physicist, ballet dancer, choreographer, and wife of Ira Steven Behr told me…” on separate pages, which can hopefully be emended in future editions).

Star Trek: Open a Channel: A Woman’s Trek is alive not only by dint of the diverse voices it records, but by Nana’s lived framework of self-examination, and by her willingness to challenge herself with a variety of perspectives. It’s not hard to think of many other women of Trek, in front of and behind the cameras, who could contribute their intersectional truths to a second volume along similar lines: Alfre Woodard, who played Lily Sloane, for example, in First Contact; Zoe Saldana, the Kelvin timeline version of Nyota Uhura in recent films; Michelle Hurd, Alison Pill and Isa Briones from Picard, and countless others who have contributed to Trek’s vitality and success, such as Bjo Trimble, Lolita Fatjo, Denise Okuda, Kirsten Beyer, Gabrielle Beaumont, Dawn Velazquez, Maria Jacquemetton, Paula M. Block and Judith Reeves-Stevens. Visitor has shown the way. While in real life it can at times feel daunting to exemplify Trek’s aspirational values in a way that measurably brings us closer to Gene Rodenberry’s utopian vision, books like this provide a concrete example of how to inch towards that goal. This kind of striving also reaffirms our humanity. As Janeway herself said to Seven of Nine in “Day of Honor”: “Unexpected acts of kindness are common among our group. That’s one of the ways we define ourselves.”