TV Is in the Age of the Disengaged Woman

The women of television are tired. Whenever you turn on TV there seems to be another competent and intelligent woman who just can’t seem to muster up the energy to make her life better. From Maya Rudolph on Forever to Alison Brie’s character on the latest season of BoJack Horseman, the exhausted leading lady is starting to become one of the most noticeable trends of this year. And it’s also one of the most relatable.

This isn’t to say that modern television isn’t filled with women eager to lead their own stories. It is. Empowering action has colored some of the best TV moments of the year… After all, what are Westworld and The Handmaid’s Tale other than loud, lady-led rebellions? Netflix’s GLOW, BBC America’s Killing Eve, even NBC’s The Good Place — all of these shows have created fantastic seasons largely thanks to the driven and complicated women at their helms.

But for all of these leading ladies who are happy to energetically reclaim their own lives, there’s been another branch of female characters who are starting to define television. These women are still in control of their narratives — a far removal from the countless shows that use female characters as a prop for male desires. But instead of actively pursuing change, they numbly observe, adapt to, and eventually fight in their own quiet way the warped world around them. It’s a numbness that feels distinctly feminine, born from the exhaustion of being used by a male-dominated society for so long.

The most extreme version of this phenomenon naturally resides in the first season of The Handmaid’s Tale. Sure, the series eventually became an adventure epic that revolved around June’s (Elisabeth Moss) escape. But in its first season it was exclusively about a group of women angrily and silently enduring the horrors around them, while growing numb in the process.

However it’s Maya Rudolph’s revolutionary performance as another June in Amazon’s Forever that stands as the clearest example of this intentional emotional distance. From the first episode it’s clear that June isn’t happy with her boring and ever-predictable husband Oscar (Fred Armisen). But she isn’t actively angry or upset about her deteriorating marriage. She spends the first part of the series in this disengaged state, emotionlessly coasting through her own life because the risk of losing this numb comfort is greater than the possible reward of pursuing what she wants. It’s only when the big twist of the series happens that June finally sees her complacency for what it is, and actually does something about it.

Toni Collette’s latest role in BBC One and Netflix’s Wanderlust goes through a similar arc. Joy (Collette) is a dynamic and excitable sex therapist who is fulfilled in every part of her life save for one — her lifeless marriage. The first episode of the series follows the dead-eyed Joy going through the motions of her love life, resigned to her less-than-thrilling fate. But when she sees a solution to her soul-draining relationship in the form of an open marriage, she lunges for it.

Even one of the most outspoken and dynamic female characters on television, BoJack Horseman’s Diane Nguyen (voiced by Alison Brie), lost some of her character-defining energy this past season. Throughout much of BoJack, Diane has stood as the series’ constantly fighting activist. She’s unafraid to stand up for what she believes and confront the hypocrites in her life, or at least she pretends to be unafraid. But Season 5 saw a different side of Diane, someone who would still fight for what she believes in; but more quietly. After half a decade on television, Diane is finally starting to get tired of herself, of society, and of the unattainably high standards she forces on everyone.

There are so many mildly frustrated and complacent women currently on television. Pamela Adlon’s frazzled mom Sam in Better Things is an episode-by-episode ode to the many small ways being a woman sucks. Zazie Beetz’ ever-insightful and compelling Val in Atlanta embodies the female perspective of this show’s weird examination of liminal spaces. The Haunting of Hill House‘s Theo (Kate Siegel) is so removed from the world she constantly wears gloves, never allowing herself to fully connect with anyone or anything. Even this latest phenomenal season of Dear White People saw a notable shift in energy. Just like with Season 1 the activism, the passion, and the good intentions were there; but the energy wasn’t. The loudest voice on the show, Logan Browning’s wonderfully dynamic Sam White, was smaller and closer to breaking than she’s even been. After years of being criticized and judged by the world around them, these women are exhausted.

As grim as it may be to watch, there is something comforting about watching story after story about women who are just over it. Life in 2018 is a draining hellscape with a never-ending supply of controversies. Sometimes it’s hard to care about everything, and seeing characters that validate this intense draining feeling is nice. But there’s a lesson buried in television’s disengaged women. Yes, these women are allowed to take a deserved break. But things only change for the better after they turn back on, and start actively participating in their own lives.