With Destiel becoming cannon, I have been thinking about 2012 tumblr and the fandoms I was in. If you have been following me since then, you probably know that I was a superwholock person. It’s hard for me to look back, because these shows that were so important to me and I gave so much love to, never loved me back.
A friend introduced me to Supernatural, and I would go on to introduce it to my family. I couldn’t pin down why I stopped watching it. I know I kept reading the fanfiction long after I had moved on from the show. I once expected I would be rewatching the seasons I enjoyed for years after; then I heard that Charlie got killed off and I haven’t watched an episode since.
My dad died when I was twelve, and he was the one to introduce me to Doctor Who. I loved it from the first episode of the reboot, and Rose Tyler is still one of my favourite characters of all time. My family would watch episodes together in the living room with a projector, we would have watch parties. In the end I think it would be the first fandom I was ever a part of. I decided I wanted to be not just a writer but a screenwriter, My mom gave me a RTD biography and I found my first hero. Reading the book, I got to see a queer man who loved the same show I did, and I got to see all that went into the show that meant so much to me. Watching the show I got to see a queer character who was the longest living character in the show, I got to see nonbinary identities mentioned in passing, I got to see women be the stars. I saw women yell back at men, and the narrative rewarded them for it. Then Moffat took over. My dad had died only a short time before and my mom wanted things to feel normal. So my family piled into the living room and we watched the first episodes of the new series together. I didn’t like the first episodes but my mom pointed out that I never liked it when the doctor regenerated at first, I just needed to give this new one time. So I did.
I rewatched a couple of episodes of the Moffat run recently, and what my child-self was seeing was a steep decline in writing quality. But they were also seeing less. Less complexity, less queerness, less kindness from the doctor, less love for the audience. In high school the Doctor was my imaginary friend. I would walk through the hallways pretending he was holding my hand, whispering in my ear that if I just got through this there would be a bright beautiful universe waiting for me. Then I got to see Moffat turn the Doctor into the exact person who made school hell for me. The snide sexism, the dismissal, the violence.
Since it was a show I watched with my family, I informed them when I decided to stop. They mocked me for it. Saying I was overreacting and what I really had problems was Clara, not Moffat’s terrible writing. I stopped watching, and they followed shortly after, though they refused to admit that I had been right.
I have rewatched Doctor Who, with my wife, who loved the RTD run as much as I did, but I was only able to get through the first two episodes of the Moffat run.
Sherlock was the first fandom I entered that felt like mine, like I wasn’t being led into it by others. I was never a Johnlock shipper, I didn’t expect or even want the two to end up together, and I loved the first season. It made me feel clever, and like if I was clever enough all my social awkwardness and ineptitude around peoples feelings wouldn’t be such a big deal. Then the first episode of the third season came out, and I realized Moffat hated me. He hated that I cared about the show, that I couldn’t wait to see what kind of masterful trick was waiting for me. It was the first time I realized a writer was able to despise his audience.
So I learned to hate these shows back. I would laugh at the younger version of me, so cringey in how they cared. How they wanted to love media that never wanted them as a part of the audience.
Supernatural was written for straight cisgender white men, Doctor Who was written for me until it wasn’t, and Sherlock was written for men who thought they were clever. They never wanted me there, and I am still proud of the fact that I left.
Even when people told me I was overreacting, or reading too deep into things, I knew what I was willing to put up with, and it wasn’t these men’s bullshit.
I won’t ever forgive these shows for how they hurt a younger version of me, because I lost access to that version because of them. The kid who believed that shows were made of love and I could be a part of that if I tried. The kid who needed these characters, who got through impossible things because of them. The kid who cared so deeply and openly as to put it up on a website for everyone to see. They are gone, I am cynical now, I never watched an episode of Riverdale, I stopped watching Game of Thrones at the fourth season, Harry Potter was lost to me the second J.K. Rowling liked her first transphobic tweet and I just don’t get deep into fandoms anymore. I can’t love them like I used to.
I don’t want to be a screenwriter anymore. I am great at writing dialogue but I just can’t imagine being in the room where they make the decision to kill off their queer character, to have their female character be “put in her place”, to mock the people who love the show so openly, without my heart breaking for a younger version of myself.
I won’t forgive anyone who was behind the decisions that made me stop believing in my imaginary friends, in magic, and in a world which loved me back.
I hope they know this is their legacy.
