Asexuality and Aromanticism in Star Trek

Image caption: The main setting of "The Apple", an episode of Star Trek: The Original Series that I am going to be discussing in this blog post. Image obtained from Memory Alpha.

As I think the profile picture of this blog makes abundantly clear, I love Star Trek. In many ways, I consider it my first real fandom – the first piece of media that captured my imagination, starting back when I saw Star Trek: Voyager as a child and wanted to be on Captain Janeway’s crew more than anything. As a kid I even accompanied my parents to a Star Trek convention, where I met Bob Picardo (The Doctor in Voyager) and Ethan Phillips (Neelix in Voyager). When I think about it, I suppose Star Trek is where I first really got my geek card.

In my intro post, I shared the link to a piece I wrote for Women at Warp about asexuality in Star Trek. In that essay, I briefly analyzed instances in which the show introduced characters or plot points that took non-sexual characters, races, or other similar situations and sadly misrepresented them. The post that appeared on the Women at Warp website was a truncated version of a longer analysis I wrote, so I thought I would share the full piece here (edited a bit to make it fit this particular blog a little bit more).

This particular essay mostly focuses on The Original Series episode “The Apple” and on the character of Seven of Nine from Voyager, but because Star Trek is so dear to me and I have such a rich body of work I can cover, this will not be my only Trek based post. I eventually plan on doing a more detailed analysis of just Seven of Nine, as well as a post dedicated to the character of Data from The Next Generation, who many people cite when speculating about asexuality in Trek. I will also be referencing some episodes during posts about various aphobic tropes and Trek will be referenced in the essay I have planned on robots, androids, and aliens. Until then, however, enjoy this analysis on asexuality (and aromanticism) in Star Trek!

Spoiler warning! 

“The Apple” (TOS); “Unimatrix Zero” (VOY), “Human Error” (VOY), “Someone To Watch Over Me” (VOY), “Imperfection” (VOY), “Endgame” (VOY)

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Apparently, everyone in the entire universe is sexual. At least, this is what Star Trek seems to tell us, since almost every person and race - even every android, robot, and hologram - we see throughout the Star Trek universe is portrayed as inherently sexual or, if they aren't, that they should be. But does it have to be that way? In a franchise that invites us to explore infinite diversity in infinite combinations, it is disappointing to realize diversity apparently does not extend to exploring asexuality and other non-sexual identities - something that we don't have to search for just in space's uncharted quadrants, but can find right here on Earth. 

In its broadest terms, asexuality is defined as a lack of sexual attraction, but this is only the beginning of what asexuality means and entails. Too often asexuality is the victim of countless tropes and jokes that non-sexual people are cold and unfeeling, ignoring the fact that a lack of sexuality doesn't necessarily mean a lack of romantic attraction. Aromantic asexuals - who experience neither sexual nor romantic attraction - are often stereotyped as freakish socially awkward loners. Alternately, asexual people are lambasted as prudish, naïve, childish, or sheltered. Because asexuality is still not widely known, the worst part is that many of these damaging stereotypes are internalized by people who are just coming to terms with their identity, made worse by the fact that cultural attitudes entrench them. Media is a valuable tool in helping break these stereotypes, but unfortunately it is all too common that asexuality and its related identities are viewed as invalid orientations not to be taken seriously and therefore is rarely represented in media - and when they are represented, they are often represented inaccurately. This becomes especially disappointing when we look at franchises like Star Trek that could explore asexuality in new and creative ways that push our understanding of human relationships and sexual orientations.

There have been many times Star Trek could have explored asexuality - if not in name, certainly in theme - but either chose not to or fell into the well-worn pattern of damaging tropes we see far too often. As the crews of each series wander through space, encountering new civilizations, it would be nice to see some of the people or species they encounter be inherently asexual or non-sexual and treated with respect. But often Starfleet tries to impose their own ideas about what it means to be human on these societies, and that usually means sex or romance. In the TOS episode “The Apple”, for instance, the Vaalians and their marked lack of sexuality is hair-raising for the crew and debate about it becomes the central focus of the episode. 

"The Apple" and the Vaalians

Image caption: Do not be fooled, this is not an Oompa-Loompa; it is actually Akuta of the Vaalian race, one of the few non-sexual races we see in Star Trek. Image obtained from Memory Alpha.

The plot of “The Apple” is fairly simple. The Enterprise crew discovers a planet that at first seems to be a paradise… an illusion that is quickly destroyed as crewmembers in the scouting party start being killed by everything from the vegetation to the weather (all with the wonderfully cheesy beauty we’ve come to expect from an episode of The Original Series). Unable to beam back to the Enterprise, the crew eventually meets the inhabitants of the planet, a race of primitive non-sexual, non-romantic people known as the Vaalians who are so named because they follow the whims of a god called Vaal. The episode’s dialogue and main action all link the Vaalians lack of sexuality to the other elements of their society that have caused them to stagnate, furthering the idea that a lack of sexuality is abnormal, even potentially crippling – despite the fact that the Vaalians do not need to procreate because they do not age.

Furthermore, the Vaalians are infantilized constantly, something which is played for laughs. Notable instances include when they refer to love as “the holding and the touching” and say it is forbidden by Vaal, to which Doctor McCoy glibly quips “well, there goes paradise”, or the scene where the main Vaalian, Akuta, cries after Kirk punches him. The idea of the Vaalians being childlike savages furthers the idea that a lack of sexuality is bizarre and questionable, as if non-sexual people are children who don’t have the knowledge to explore themselves and come to conclusions about their lack of sexuality. Nowhere is this better highlighted than when a male and female Vaalian observe Chekov and a female crewmember kissing and attempt to copy the action monkey-see-monkey-do style the way literal children might. This is a trope we see time and again, not just in media, but in real life. I’ve experienced firsthand what it’s like when people treat you like a silly child because you don’t have, like, or understand sex. Many, many times.

To the episode’s credit, it does allow Spock to bring up some interesting points. When McCoy insists that the Vaalians are not living in a natural state, Spock counters that, just because the Vaalian society is not what his human crewmates are used to, does not make it wrong. Unfortunately, this argument is destroyed when the Vaalians become violent on Vaal’s order and attempt to kill the crew, proving McCoy’s own argument that Vaal is a sketchy figure who is keeping the Vaalians in pseudo-slavery. This is because, although I like to describe Vaal as a giant papier-mache dragon head, his true identity is a supercomputer that is trying to destroy the Enterprise by pulling it into the planet’s atmosphere. Thus, Kirk is forced to destroy Vaal in order to save the Enterprise and, other than a few more objections from Spock (which are summarily dismissed), it is not seen as a problem that Kirk essentially killed the Vaalians' god and by doing so made them mortal. 

Image caption: The Vaalians' god Vaal is actually just a giant papier-mache dragon face, change my mind. Image obtained from Memory Alpha.

Even worse, when the people express deep concern about how they will survive, Kirk insists they will now be able to lead “normal” lives, as in, ones that involve sex and/or romance. Before the crew leaves, Kirk promises the Vaalians, “And you’ll learn something about men and women – the way they’re supposed to be. Caring for each other, being happy with each other, being good to each other. That’s what we call love. You’ll like that, too. A lot,” once again furthering the idea that sex and romance are inherently part of the human experience, and that not having them is unthinkable. The entire thing is portrayed as vaguely hilarious – the Vaalians laugh after Kirk’s speech and even Spock’s further concerns that they stripped the Vaalians of their Eden is met with jocularity – which makes the whole thing that much more troubling. It is jarring to see the Enterprise crew basically “fix” the Vaalians “for their own good” and then laugh about it, especially when “fixing” asexuality and its related identities is a very real misconception with very real consequences. We never visit the Vaalians ever again and are left to assume that everything is fine – that their sexuality was just a switch that could be flipped from off to on and now they are free to live “normal” productive lives. It feels as if the episode is attempting to define humanity in entirely sexual terms and by extension define all life in sexual terms as well. This may have been a progressive and even important message in 1967, but for a show that is supposed to challenge the conventional ways of defining life, it is disappointing at best. 

Rather sadly, this type of denial of the asexual and aromantic spectrums is not just present in TOS, but a current of it runs throughout a huge majority of Star Trek. For instance, it is difficult to find any species in the universe that can be described as inherently asexual that are respected as valid lifeforms. Most non-sexual species are either mocked as being sexually repressed or are vaguely nefarious. Even species that don't specifically have sex, like the Q, still have mating rituals that are used as sexual stand-ins. Trying to find individuals who can safely be called asexual or aromantic is even harder. Most characters who exhibit asexual or aromantic traits are portrayed as not entirely human, which isn't great when the hope is to show that identities on the asexual and aromantic spectrums as a valid human orientations. However, the beauty of Star Trek is that each series spends time pushing the boundaries of what it means to be human and thus asexuality or aromanticism could be explored through non-human characters in new and unique ways. But that is rarely the case, since the franchise instead chooses to entrench sex and romance as things these characters must go through as the last steps of a quest to gain humanity. This is perhaps best seen in the character of Seven of Nine from Star Trek: Voyager.

Seven of Nine

Image caption: Star Trek: Voyager's Seven of Nine (portrayed by Jeri Ryan) during her time on Voyager. Image obtained from Memory Alpha.

Seven of Nine, originally called Annika Hansen, was assimilated by the Borg as a child, and remained part of the collective until disconnected from the hive mind by the crew of Voyager; thus, Seven rediscovering humanity is a central part of her character. She's not exactly human and she's not exactly Borg, something which is excellently explored throughout her four seasons of the show. Less excellently explored is the question of Seven having a romantic life. There is nothing wrong with Seven choosing to pursue a romantic or sexual relationship whatsoever, but the problem lies in the reactions of those around her, who often react with relief that she is embracing what they see as an important step in her becoming human. This sometimes is taken a step further and it seems as if the Voyager crew is pressuring Seven to enter into relationships even when she expresses a degree of unease.

In the episode "Unimatrix Zero" for instance – in which Seven rediscovers connections she made in the Borg dreamworld Unimatrix Zero, including a romantic liaison with a man named Axum – it feels like the crew pressures Seven to embrace the people in the Unimatrix even when it makes her uncomfortable. While cooperating with the drones there is an important part of the plan to sow revolution within the Borg, their insistence that Seven be friendly, particularly with Axum, feels uncomfortably familiar from an aspec perspective, as if the crew doesn't trust Seven enough to make her own decisions. Perhaps the worst part about "Unimatrix Zero" is that most of this comes out of left field. Up until this point, Seven expresses very little interest in sex or romance except as a matter of experimental study. Therefore, the idea that Seven all of a sudden wants to resume a previous romantic relationship from several years prior when the circumstances were very different, feels a little strange. Of course, the entire thing is played up as if Seven is willfully suppressing her desire for a relationship and that her friends must help her see the light – which again, many aspec people will sadly recognize.

Even worse is the episode "Human Error", in which Seven practices romance on the holodeck to the point of it becoming detrimental not just to her duties, but eventually to her health. "Human Error" somehow manages to feel even more like Seven's relationship desires are coming from out of the blue – especially since in the previous "Someone To Watch Over Me", Seven called off her search for romance because there was no one on Voyager she found suitable. Now suddenly, she is practicing a relationship with Chakotay with little to no build up. This episode being so close to the end of the series gives it even more of a forced quality, making it seem like these events (which set up Seven and Chakotay having an actual, yet nevertheless still mostly off-screen, relationship in "Endgame") are only happening because the idea of Seven leaving the ship unattached was too strange to consider. It feels as if the writers are attempting to say that Seven could only be seen as truly having attained her humanity if she walked off of the ship at the end of the journey having been in a romantic and/or sexual relationship. Even the title of the episode implies that this process is an absolute necessity in her journey to become human, as if being unattached would somehow make Seven less human. Indeed, both "Unimatrix Zero" and "Human Error" make it feel like living one's life without sex or romance is inherently bizarre and shouldn't be respected, much like "The Apple" did in TOS.

Furthermore, "Human Error" has a strange twist – it turns out one of Seven’s Borg implants is specifically designed to shut down higher brain function if/when Borg drones experience a certain level of emotional stimulation. We are led to believe, given this piece of information, that the only emotional stimulation the fail-safe is looking for is romantic and/or sexual love – not friendship, or platonic love, apparently not even the strong emotion Seven feels when she is moved to tears upon seeing Icheb alive during the episode "Imperfection". It would seem that the Borg are only threatened by the influence romance might have on their drones, once again giving us the subtle impression that only romance matters. But they're not the only ones who think so. At one point during the episode, The Doctor gushes "You might be ready to start forming deeper relationships. I'm proud of you, Seven," implying that the attainment of a romantic relationship is the pinnacle. Seven's character development over four seasons is wonderful and the relationships she forms are some of the best in the show – her mentor/mentee relationship with Janeway, her friendship with The Doctor, her own mentorship of the Borg children, especially Icheb, and Naomi Wildman. But for some strange reason, these relationships are treated as less important to Seven's development – which, coming from a show that is primarily about the power of friendship and camaraderie, is a huge letdown.

So the question I find myself asking is why? Why is Star Trek willing to question our beliefs on race, gender, or what it means to be human, but seems unwilling to imagine a future where the experiences of asexual and aromantic people are treated with that same level of understanding? I believe the answer is multi-pronged. For a start, aspec identities are still at a time in their lives where very little is known about them, so a lot of the issues aspec people face have yet to reach a wider audience. And what's more, asexuality and aromanticism are scary. It's a bit terrifying to learn to you buck the societal norm, that you identify with an extreme minority, that you're in uncharted territory. I’ve been there and so have many other ace and/or aro people. We know it can be hard to explore.

But if Star Trek has taught me anything, it's to hope. The continuing mission of my first fandom is far from over and as long as new Star Trek content continues to be made, I will continue to hope I can one day see myself represented in a race, character, or situation treated with dignity and respect. It's been over fifty years since we were first invited to explore strange new worlds and seek out new life and new civilizations. I hope one day soon one of those worlds will have people like me on it, or one of the ships in the galaxy will have a character whose experience and identity is like my own. And above all, I hope one day Star Trek and other media will demonstrate that people like me aren't just valid in space, but here to Earth too.