The rise of wholesome programming
Since quarantining during this pandemic, we’ve been streaming and watching television for hours on end. It can be interesting and informative to think more deeply about what exactly we are consuming, and it is safe to say we are currently enjoying some small form of a postmodern era on our screens and streaming services. Postmodernism is a broad movement and can be found across all of the arts. A form of critique, its works reject the narrative of a “single story”, and grand narratives that often come from places of power. In early 20th century philosophy, postmodernism often concerned rejecting “grand narratives” handed down by governments, and institutions like the Catholic Church, for example. Ideas like love, morality, language and human nature have always been critiqued through postmodernism. In television, these “grand narratives” look like stereotypes, small and almost inconspicuous expressions of white supremacy, contempt, and misrepresentation. And sometimes, some of our favourite television shows can actively challenge this reality through wholesome representation.
It can seem rather pretentious to declare that episodes of shows like New Girl, Parks and Recreation and The Good Place are postmodern works, but they do challenge the traditional “grand narratives” posed in television that concern how the world works, and about love, life, and family. Women and men have platonic, fulfilling friendships, Black, Brown, Indigenous, and queer characters exist without serving the interests of the white gaze, and the roles of women on the screen have expanded beyond furthering the development of their male counterparts. All this is not to say that everything is perfect in T.V. land, nor is it to say that shows like the ones mentioned are perfect. We still have a long way to go before we have representations of all people on screen that are equitable, interesting, and just plain old fun without being disingenuous or harmful.
“We still have a long way to go before we have representations of all people on screen that are equitable, interesting, and just plain old fun without being disingenuous or harmful.”
For years, the stories available to audiences in popular television series relied heavily on humour and plot devices that deny the humanity and agency of marginalized people. In the 90s and early 2000s, more cruel and unruly jokes were a hallmark of shows like Seinfield, Southpark, Arrested Development, and shows like Friends and Saved By The Bell featured some storylines that reduced the roles of certain characters to just being for laughs. Transphobia, sexism, racism, and classism were weaved into the fabric of so many of these shows. And much like Friends, some shows (that took place in incredibly multicultural cities like New York) featured no diversity. One can argue that it is not “fair to judge” older television series by “today's standards”, but we have always had critics that highlight and argue against homophobia, misogyny, xenophobia, and we have television shows (past and present) that challenge negative conclusions about women, queer people, and people of colour.
Wholesome representation in recent television is not just about the ups we feel with issues around things like our identity relationships. These shows can also lead to a more holistic examination of the more uncomfortable parts of who we are. For example, in BoJack Horseman, the titular character honours his half-sister Hollyhocks’s wish to end their relationship after he does wrong by her. This is a stark deviation from most "grand narratives" about family and forgiveness. There are many “grand narratives” about what we owe those closest to us, and what closure means. The end of BoJack and Hollyhocks’s relationship is something we don't always get to see because frankly, it is so very uncomfortable. We are conditioned to want happy endings, and so many of the most popular stories we grow up with have them. But cliched and played-out versions of a happy ending don’t usually occur in real life, and the endings that we do receive do not resemble the ones from fairytales. That’s the beauty of this new era of television, though. Through these characters, we are given the good, the bad, and the deeply familiar, mirroring our lives even when it’s difficult to face.
“Wholesome representation in recent television is not just about the ups we feel with issues around things like our identity relationships. These shows can also lead to a more holistic examination of the more uncomfortable parts of who we are.”
We have been gifted characters like Janet Kim, Leslie Knope, Garnet, Todd Chavez, Chidi Anagonye, the list goes on. They are flawed, yes, but these characters (even the animated ones!) are much more honest representations of the parts of humanity that we love, fear, and the traits we admire in others and aspire to have for ourselves. We see our loving, fallible immigrant parents in Appa and Umma of Kim's Convenience, and the unique, culturally relevant joys of Black parenthood in Jessica and Bernard Williams of the animated series, Craig of the Creek. The power of these shows is that they underscore more nuanced truths about who we are, which can be hard to grasp in traditional, non-fiction mediums like newspaper articles and academic journals. Television shows can also tell us who can be, and what world we can create. Even as a work of fiction, the plotline of The Good Place can serve as an abolitionist rallying cry, helping us to envision a world without prisons and punitive punishment. These characters have complicated ways of relating to their respective worlds, and in so many ways, this is a refreshing departure from the “grand narratives” we may find in other mediums and other television programmes.
Wholesome television that is inclusive doesn’t mean featuring diverse characters just for the sake of having them. While particular television shows ignore marginalized people or use them as a punchline, trying to correct this by simply featuring them runs the risk of tokenizing these characters. Some shows have proven that highlighting diverse characters in a way that comes from a place of truth and joy is the way to go. In Rebecca Sugar’s Steven Universe, non-binary characters move freely in the animated world, pursuing adventures, and Schitt's Creek’s David and Patrick are a lovely hilarious, couple, who just live. Even though the trials and tribulations faced by characters in Steven Universe is imaginary, and David is (on purpose!) painfully annoying, their identities are part of who they are—not a full depiction, or the butt of any of the jokes. We identify with them and love them for who they are, and the unbelievable fun they have, because deep down, we all seek that joy in real-life.
“We identify with them and love them for who they are, and the unbelievable fun they have, because deep down, we all seek that joy in real-life.”
Schitt’s Creek, in particular, holds a special place in the hearts of many. The show deals with a wealthy family who is suddenly in the throes of being broke and stranded in a motel. At first, Moira, John, Alexis, and David Rose are not likeable or relatable, so drawing on them as examples of wholesome representation can seem unusual. However, in the first few episodes, it is clear that their quirks, insecurities, and their shortcomings, can be found within ourselves and the people we love. And of course, David and Patrick’s queerness is not teased or insulted to further the plot. Their relationship simply consists of Patrick putting up with his beau’s over-the-top personality, like any of the archetypal odd couples we love.
During his GLAAD award acceptance speech, Schitt's Creek’s Dan Levy said he “didn’t have the security of seeing a lot of people like myself being celebrated in popular culture.” He said he created the Emmy-winning show as space that “incubates joy and creates clarity that allows people to see themselves and each other more deeply.” We have much to learn from the shows we have binge-watched this lockdown, and about what kinds of shows we are still missing. The postmodern imagination of current television shows goes beyond just traditional fiction. The world-building that takes place allows us to consider what it means to exist not just beyond the restrictions of the natural world, but of the hatred and misrepresentations that so often plague it.
