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Yellowjackets: Girlbossing, Fandom, and Looking for Reasons to Live

Female antiheroes, the impulses of fandom, and mysticism.

This essay was written and published between season three and four, and thus contains spoilers for Yellowjackets up until the season three finale.

You know, when we fought the Cylons, we did it to save ourselves from extinction. But we never answered the question “Why?” Why are we as a people worth saving?

Commander Adama, Battlestar Galactica

I liked it. I was good at it. Really, I was… I was alive.

Walter White, Breaking Bad

Yellowjackets is about the slow process of realizing one of your friends is deeply toxic. Please forgive the otherwise meaningless cliche of the word ‘toxic’, because it’s necessary to convey the idea behind the show – it set out to be a female equivalent not only to Lord of the Flies but to the masculine antihero stories that dominated the airwaves in the wake of Breaking Bad, and from this perspective, it succeeded admirably; I have seen convincing arguments that each of the main survivor protagonists is a riff on an equivalent LotF character, even in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. There are plots and even characters that are intentionally reacting to older plots from a female perspective; early on, there’s a plot where Nat (played by Sophie Thatcher as a teenager and Juliette Lewis as an adult) sleeps with Travis (Kevin Alves) and is deeply frustrated by his contradictory, confused anger at her for having lied about her sexual history, expressing righteous anger at slut-shaming.

Early on in the present-day plot, Jeff (Warren Kole) is played as a well-meaning but self-absorbed and emotionally shallow dunce who struggles to recognize when a problem is happening and gives easy but useless answers; this strikes me as a fairly normal view a lot of women have of their male partners and of men in general, and his presence a way to represent that feeling in television. These ideas are fun – Jeff in particular is almost unique, somehow managing to be a bumbling dad without hitting any of the standard Homer Simpson-esque beats – but they give way to more nuance. Misty (played by Sammi Hanratty as a teenager and Christina Ricci as an adult) is one of my favourite elements of this, being a Weird Girl who is sociopathic but impossible to either completely dismiss or completely redeem – they’d all be rescued if it weren’t for her and they’d all be dead if it weren’t for her.

Shauna (played by Sophie Nélisse as a teen and Melanie Lynskey as an adult) is my favourite of all of them though, and if there’s any justice, she’ll go down in the annals of most interesting television characters, and specifically as a true feminine counterpart to masculine characters like Walter White. There was a short fad for a while of presenting female characters as ‘the female equivalent of Walter White’; I was initially sold on Deborah and Ava of Hacks as fitting this, but both are closer to Don Draper of Mad Men, in that both, while deeply flawed, are ultimately banal in their evil and as a result redeemable.

Shauna is much closer to Walter White in that she’s genuinely an evil person, and her arc matches Walter in that I was shocked and delighted by the gradual revelation of her depravity; the show tricked me into thinking she was the normal one of the group and gradually pulled the wool from my eyes – and even more impressively manages to do it twice, as both timelines show her crumbling in two different ways. The delightful thing about her is that she is initially detached from the petty arguments and idiosyncracies the others engage in, but when she’s actually forced to act, she’ll be even pettier and more impulsive than any of them, and then when facing the consequences, she’ll whine and get defensive. 

You can compare her to Misty’s particular brand of sociopathy; Misty will kill a person and then explain why she did it (and then at most get annoyed that you don’t appreciate how useful it was), but Shauna will do the same thing and whine that you don’t get her. Shauna’s arc is one of slowly falling prey to her impulses until they take her over; put her in literally any kind of emergency situation where she has to think fast, and she’ll do the worst thing you could possibly do in that situation (funniest example: her brakes fail and she drives straight into a park).

By season three, both young and adult Shauna have gotten so deep into what they’re doing that they’ve started losing their minds. Adult Shauna has simply gotten deep into the consequences for her actions and the justifications for why they weren’t so bad, and besides were someone else’s fault, and were completely justifiable if you were there because you’d do the same thing; young Shauna is embracing a kind of gothic madness. The major way the show expresses femininity is in the way the girls explore witchy, folk horror tropes (a phase I’m told many young women go through), and by the end of season three, she has literally been crowned as a folk horror figure.

You know what else is deeply coded as female? Fandom. This is a goofy segue for looking at how the Yellowjackets fandom can use the show to express a morality common to fandom in general but is often alien and confusing to me. The Your Mileage May Vary page on TV Tropes is a useful indicator for this; there are elements of it I get but simply disagree with, like being disappointed that Laura Lee (Jane Widdop) dies midway through season one despite being vivid and memorable, but then there’s the baffling yes-anding of hating on the characters. Now, I certainly take pleasure in being outraged by Shauna’s actions, but that dissipates as the credits roll; I don’t take it goddamned personally when a fictional teenager cheats on an equally fictional teenager.

My boyfriend informs me that people with Borderline Personality Disorder can often be drawn to fandom because it appeals to both their craving for stimulus and their black-and-white thinking; on the one hand, I don’t feel comfortable pathologizing strangers on the internet (said boyfriend has BPD themselves and thus is both more informed and has more skin in the game), but this did remind me that fandom people are, you know, people, and that their perspective is rooted in a shared humanity worth considering. Thinking about it, there are two expectations driving me that I don’t think are present in fandom thinking.

The first is that I approach fiction knowing full well that it isn’t real. This is a television show; it’s an object that was crafted by humans and placed before me for a purpose. Much as a screwdriver could ostensibly be used as a toothbrush, I could use it for something other than the intended purpose, but it’ll be a real pain in the ass. More importantly, I know the character’s actions won’t actually have an effect on the real world and I don’t take their actions on that level.

And building off that is the second principle: I don’t approach fiction with the expectation that it caters to my every whim. Killing off Laura Lee makes sense in the narrative as the first case where a survivor of importance dies, and it wouldn’t mean anything if she wasn’t also memorable. I don’t expect all characters to be completely likeable to me and follow my personal moral code, nor do I expect them to be ‘appropriately’ punished, whatever that means in the first place; they exist not as extensions of my will or personality, but as pieces in a larger machine that serve a greater purpose.

If this sounds smug and superior, I recognize that there are certain things I miss out on because of this. My critical view has often been labelled detached and emotionally distant, which I don’t agree with, but it’s clear that I do often miss out on superficial but intense emotional reactions; I feel more open to different emotional experiences, but that verisimilitude can often be knocked by smaller mistakes that don’t bother other people (for example, there’s exactly one bullshit writing move in Yellowjackets, when a character discovers recordings of their conversation on a phone but somehow fails to forget to delete them before they’re useful).

And I think a small but clear distinction is – and this is a weird thought, so bear with me – I am looking for good things to weave together into a coherent point, whereas fandom types are looking for bad things that they’re trying to avoid. I word it this way because, as I dive further into creativity, I’ve found my detached critical outlook is actually a burden; when I watch a show through the lens of actively searching for bad things about it, I find it easier to generate ideas that I want to play with. As proof, I point not only to creative-based entries under that TV Tropes page (like Fandom-Specific Plot or Fan-Preferred Couple), but also to Base-Breaking Character. Look especially on the Alternative Character Explanations page, where audiences make up rationalizations for their preferred interpretation for events that seemed fairly straightforward to me.

(The flipside is that my seemingly detached perspective also means I’m generally correct in my interpretations of author intent and character motivation, which is less down to me being smarter than anyone and more down to me simply not being as emotionally invested in an outcome and thus more openminded)

Which brings me back to Shauna. I’ve been writing ‘seemingly detached’ and ‘seen as detached’ because I don’t actually believe I’m that detached, and in some ways I’m more invested than people who are more visible in their emotional expression. I aim to empathise with characters and feel what they feel; specifically, I’m allowing myself to feel the emotions even of an evil narcissist like Shauna. To me, blanket condemnation of her feels more detached than going on the journey with her, feeling her feelings with her.

The funny thing about Shauna is that she’s at her most effective when she’s bored. She finds herself bored out of her brains when she’s a wife and mother, but she’s basically competent at the really tedious elements like the cooking and the maintenance. She dives into the gruesome adventures of murder and conspiracy with both feet, but she’s absolutely terrible at it – as characters start pointing out in season three, she’s too impulsive to pull it off (contrast her with Misty, who is equally murderous but is mostly correct in her frustration at the others failing to keep up with her).

On the other hand… she’s right to be bored. The murder and cannibalism part of the show is exhilarating; I generally find the present-day plot more exciting than the survival aspect because it’s the fastest-moving in plot, but in season three, young Shauna starts embracing revenge and mysticism, and it makes her commit more extreme actions that are deeply fun to watch and drive me to keep watching to find out what happens next.

If this show is about anything, it’s about mysticism versus rationalism. Nat, surprisingly, ends up representing pure reason; when she navigates the cannibal cult the other girls have established, it comes off as her making the choice she has to in order to survive, using community to keep herself alive. Shauna and Lottie (played by Courtney Eaton as a teenager and Simone Kessell as an adult) sit at the other end of the spectrum, driven by the mysticism of the wilderness and the sense of purpose it gives them. It’s this, more than reason, that drives them to initially eat a person; they justify it as a gift from the wilderness and a way to honour their fallen friend, and while these justifications become more and more bizarre as time goes on, they end up being the ‘happiest’ characters on the show.

By ‘happy’, I mean ‘able to justify being alive’. Coach Scott (Steven Kreuger) shows this spectrum by existing outside it entirely; he loses a major part of his identity in the second episode when Misty cuts off his leg, and the show for him is a slow loss of any identity or reason to live. His authority over the girls slowly erodes as they stop listening to him; he’s the only character not to eat another person no matter how hungry he gets, and he becomes more contemptuous of the girls as time passes, until he’s begging the last girl he has any respect for to kill him and end his suffering (after which they eat him, of course).

Whatever you say about Shauna, she has successfully clung onto living, even if her rationalizations have become increasingly abhorrent. Her letter to her family at the end of season three reads as an awful justification of her crimes on the basis that, of course, deep down everyone agrees with her, would do what she does, feels the exact way she does. But then, I’ve been riding this track with her the whole time, and I could see a universe where I did do all this stuff on my own recognizance.

What Yellowjackets captures is how the things that rationally help us in a long-term way and the things that make life feel worth living tend to be two different things. Human beings have a remarkable way of mistaking things that feel good for things that are actually effective, and vice versa; agreeableness tends to be the most effective way to navigate the world but feels much worse for a person than aggressive posturing. You need a little bit of ineffectual posturing or life just isn’t any fun.