Lessons Learned From Headcanon Aspec Characters
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| Image description: An image from the game Dragon Age: Inquisition in which the squad all sits down to play cards. As we approach Thanksgiving here in America, this seemed like the perfect image to represent coming together with friends and family to spend quality time. This image also features three characters I headcanon as being on the asexual and/or aromantic spectrums, one of whom is a big part of today's post about things I've learned from some of my favorite headcanon aspec characters. (Image not mine; obtained from this video, all credit to the owner) |
When it comes to some of my favorite headcanon
asexual/aromantic spectrum characters, there’s a lot I feel can be learned from
them. All of these characters are ones I’ve done individual posts about, and in
those posts I acknowledge that my headcanons are probably just that – in fact,
many of these characters are actively treated as non-aspec in the media they’re
featured in, their aspec tendencies being retconned, ignored, or waved away.
But even if these characters are not aspec, I believe their struggles are
relatable to non-sexual and/or non-romantic people, and that they should be
relatable for people in general, regardless of identity. So for this post, I’d
like to take a look at a selection of my fave headcanons and look at the
lessons they teach me about myself, my identity, and the world around me.
Although these lessons are going to be personalized to me and my own
interpretation, I hope that you can find just as much meaning and inspiration in them too.
Seven of Nine from
Star Trek: Voyager
Seven of Nine is an obvious favorite of mine, both as a
headcanon aspec character and in general. In fact, I just focused on her in my
post about the Borg, the cybernetic race she was a part of for most of her
life. Unfortunately, many of her seemingly aspec tendencies aren’t well portrayed
throughout her time in Trek. In Voyager, they’re largely ignored
in favor of shoe-horned romance plots, and I’ve talked at length about how
various episodes portray sex or romance as requirements for her humanity. Both Voyager
and Star Trek: Picard give her romantic relationships and, while she
could of course be aspec and in a romance, I don’t feel that crosses the
writers’ minds when they portray her in either series.
Recently, I read a very interesting blog post about Seven,
written by Claire Rosemary, who mentions that Seven being asexual likely would
have “swerved into the territory of blaming the Borg for her lack of sexual
attraction, framing it as something the Borg robbed from her.” While that could
have potentially been avoided if the writers were careful enough, I think that
– even if they had wanted to portray Seven as non-sexual and/or non-romantic –
they would have lacked the context or nuance to pull it off. As Rosemary says,
it's more likely it would have either been portrayed on screen as being
something tragically stolen from her or interpreted that way by the audience
even without explicit mention.
But despite these things, Seven and her journey will always
be important to me as an aspec woman. Regardless of how she’s portrayed or
written, I believe there will always be things I can draw from Seven’s
struggles and apply to my own. Her story is about being “other,” and of trying
to understand who she is as she navigates a world that doesn’t fully understand
her, or is sometimes even hostile towards her, and that’s my story too. I draw
a lot of strength and inspiration in the way Seven adapts, not just to her
circumstances, but to the differences in her life and the challenges to her
thinking, the latter of which especially forms the basis of my first lesson of
today’s post.
Letting Go of
“Perfect” Understanding
In my post about the Borg, I mention the Collective’s drive for “perfection,” something Seven retains despite being de-assimilated. In the episode “The Omega Directive,” this comes to a head when the crew encounters “Omega molecules,” which are extremely dangerous and volatile. Starfleet knows this, and has a directive in place that Omega molecules should be immediately destroyed; however, Seven believes the molecules can and should be stabilized, a belief which brings her into conflict with Captain Janeway. While the Omega molecules represent a massive risk in Starfleet’s eyes, to the Borg - and to Seven - they represent perfection. As such, she becomes convinced that understanding them will be an almost spiritual experience and that she needs to see and understand this perfection in order to be whole. The actual plot of the episode is not important for my points here; what is important, however, is the ending. When things eventually go sideways and the crew is forced to change their plans, Seven gets to witness the molecules stabilizing themselves before they're destroyed. It gives her those feelings of spirituality she’d expected, leaving her deeply moved, validated, and almost “seen.” As such, the episode is clearly meant to explore themes of faith and spirituality, but beyond this, I think it also encourages us and Seven to examine our notions of perfection.
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| Image description: An awed Seven of Nine witnessing the Omega molecules in "The Omega Directive" (Image obtained from TrekCore) |
“The Omega Directive” is not the only instance where Seven grapples with this. In fact, this theme is played out to what I feel is extremely heavy-handed effect in her eventual romance with Commander Chakotay. But that fact notwithstanding, I think her quest to do things perfectly and understand things completely raises some interesting points. Throughout her time on Voyager, Seven often studies things she doesn’t understand in order to try and wring meaning out of them. It seems like she believes understanding a thing inside and out is the key to completeness, but quite often, she finds out that it’s not. In some cases, she even finds out that perfect understanding is impossible, a lesson that applies to my life more than I’d like to admit. I often seek “perfect understanding” – whether of my own self, or encouraging others to perfectly understand me in return. Like Seven, I thought this perfection was attainable and I believed if I just do this one thing exactly right, then I’ll have what I need. If I just wrote the perfect blog post, everyone would understand me. If I just said the exact right thing, everyone would respect my boundaries. If I just did this series of events in the proper way, I would finally be perfectly safe and content.
But just like Seven realizes throughout her time on Voyager,
I too have come to realize something – I don’t think being “perfectly” or
“entirely” understood by other people is even possible, and that’s okay.
Perfection as a notion, and especially the concept of “perfect understanding,”
are vague and hard to define, to the point where they become more like ideals
than viable goals. What exactly does it mean to be “perfectly understood” by
another person? Even for non-aspec
people, I think this can probably resonate. We all open up to people in the
hopes they will finally understand where we’re coming from – whether in small
things or large one; but how often do arguments start because the things we
believe passionately are the exact antithesis of things that other people
believe just as passionately? And beyond that, how often do we think we
understand our own selves just to realize even we don’t entirely know why we
feel a certain way, believe a specific thing, or assign import to something? In
that sense, it may be impossible to entirely understand ourselves, let alone
expect perfect understanding from others.
Much like the Borg say resistance is futile, perhaps seeking
“ultimate” understanding is likewise an act of futility. There are many instances
where we can embrace being understood by those around us, but at the end of the
day, that knowledge and understanding will always be incomplete. There will
always be elements of our personalities, identities, thoughts, and feelings,
that remain mysteries to us and to others. When Seven seeks perfection
throughout Star Trek: Voyager, she is seeking a part of herself, just
like her belief that never seeing the Omega molecules will mean she is
incomplete. In a way, I’ve always been chasing my own version of that: the
mistaken belief that someday I will hit on the right steps that will lead to
someone understanding the totality of my being.
But the thing I should seek is understanding my worth. When
we form meaningful connections with people, that is what they see – our worth,
not our totality. Although the show doesn’t always do a good job of that for
Seven, I think there are traces of it when we look at things like her
friendship with Naomi Wildman, her mentorship of Icheb, or how Janeway mentors
her. There are so many relationships and bonds that Seven forms with the crew
of Voyager that, even if they don’t represent perfect understanding,
represent an acceptance of her worth. While it will always sting a little to
know that the writers more often value romances for Seven over these unique
bonds, they’re nevertheless still there for me to cherish and enjoy. And
they’re there – just as Seven will always be there – to remind me that my worth
is not found in perfection.
Cole from Dragon
Age: Inquisition
Anyone who has ever met me probably knows that I love the
character of Cole with my entire being. In fact, I have frequently called him
“my sweet spirit son,” and I’ve talked about him on this blog about a dozen
times at least. He is also a character with the potential to teach lessons unending
– to me, to other aspec people, and to people in general. Just to recap who and
what Cole is, his first appearance is in the novel, Dragon Age: Asunder
and throughout the book, even he has no idea what he is. He has memories of
life as a human mage, but now people can’t see or remember him; as such, he’s
terrified that he’s not real or that perhaps he might fade away. We eventually
learn that the Cole we know is actually a spirit of compassion. There was a
“real” Cole who was near death and whose pain summoned a spirit of compassion
that tried to help him. When the spirit failed and the young man died, the
spirit – twisted by pain and grief – took on his form and forgot that it did
so, leading to the muddled and confused experienced we see for the Cole we know
in Asunder.
When he returns in Dragon Age: Inquisition, we see a
Cole who understands what he is now and knows that his purpose, as a spirit of
compassion, is to help people. “I heal the helpless,” he says to describe himself,
“I give hope where there is hurt.” I think everyone can learn from that, and
perhaps many of us even aspire to that ideal – I know I do. But even more than
learning from Cole’s compassion, I think we can learn from how people
react to and conceptualize it. Throughout the game, there are those who choose
to accept Cole as he is, and those who find him frightening, dangerous, or both.
And, when you consider that Cole as a spirit has some recognizable aspec
tendencies, the way other people react to him gives us a lesson that goes even
deeper than just compassion.
Accepting How
Others See Us – Or Don’t See Us
As an aspec person, I think a huge majority of my struggles
stem from the notion of reconciling my own sense of self with how others
perceive me. This is why so much of my analysis focuses on bad portrayals of
aspec tendencies in media, because to me, these offer some of the clearest
indicators that the way I feel about myself and how the world feels about me
are inherently at odds. That can be extremely difficult – and it’s not just
something that aspec people experience. In fact, I think every person at some
point will struggle with this exact phenomenon and for some of us, it very well
may be crippling, as it sometimes is for me. At other points in my life, the
divide between my own perception of myself and the perceptions of others has
led me to feeling impotent frustration or deep anger.
In those times, I turn to Cole, because he understands. Although he’s compassion personified, he nevertheless will not hesitate to bring about retribution on those who deserve it. However, he’s learned how to measure this and be reserved, even though it’s sometimes a struggle. This anger makes sense – he wants to protect the helpless and his anger is kindled against those who harm others. In my life, my anger is often kindled against those whose harm is more subtle. Although not all aphobia may be overtly bad or even intentional, I sometimes struggle with the notion of firing back. But just like Cole resists his anger, I try to resist my own urge to make people hurt as I have. And just like Cole admits that’s hard, it’s hard for me too. I want to tear into a lot of media and people in day-to-day life, or things I see on the internet, or hastily made aphobic comments. But instead, I try to be level-headed and fair, and point things out without demanding retribution or compensation. Again, that’s not easy, but Cole reminds me it’s important. While I will always hope for less aphobia in life and more understanding of aspec issues – and while those things are certainly valuable – I do my best to also embrace the reality that, like Cole, some people will never appreciate what I do.
Cole’s unique style of helping people often takes difficult to understand or even bizarre turns; in dialogue with the spirit expert Solas, Cole himself admits that sometimes the way he helps makes people angry because they can’t understand the motivations behind it. When he explains this, Solas’s reassurance is something I think about a great deal: “Never forget your purpose,” he tells the spirit of compassion. “It is a noble one, even if this world does not understand.” Whether seen or unseen, Cole’s efforts are usually misunderstood, and how often can that be said of so many of us? Oftentimes, the things we value, want, or need are pushed aside because the rest of the world doesn’t assign value to them or chooses not to understand. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try or that we should abandon what is important to fit into their notions.
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| Image description: Cole, during the aforementioned card game scene of Dragon Age: Inquisition |
Of course, as mentioned in other posts, I take issue with one potential option for Cole and how that changes his story. Through specific player choices, it’s possible for Cole to become “more human,” which also means he eventually has a girlfriend. This is not only disappointing, but quite frankly baffling and unnecessary, as I’ve previously discussed. For this post, I don’t want to discuss the results of the “human path”; rather, I want to discuss something in the often-overlooked choice to make Cole more like a spirit, which is the fact that a more spirit-like Cole asserts that this is more like who and what he’s supposed to be. The human path is framed as if it’s a gift, allowing Cole to become what he “should be”, but it’s actually the spirit path that does that. “I’m me,” he says when he becomes more spirit-like. “More me than I was.”
Cole’s line here made me realize something: there are a lot
of people who don’t want you to be you. Whether that’s done maliciously or
simply out of misunderstanding varies by the circumstance, but there is always
going to be someone or something out there that wants you to be “more human,”
whatever their definition may be. It might be someone you know personally or
someone you follow on social media or a piece of media you consume. “More
human” in their eyes might mean “more like me,” or “happier,” or “prettier” –
or, in the case of aspec people and many other minority identities, it might
mean “less like you are and more like what I know, see, or find comfortable.” Seeing
Cole’s story and hearing this line remind me of this fact, and also puts me in
mind of more dialogue between Cole and Solas. When Cole wonders if he is a
spirit or a demon, Solas remarks, “The two are not so dissimilar, Cole.
Although the world may exert a pull in one direction or another, the choice is
ultimately yours.”
To me, that is what Cole represents and teaches me: that the
world may be trying to constantly pull me and all of us towards a particular
outcome, but the choice lies with us. We can choose to embrace ourselves and
who we are, rather than reshape ourselves to fit the standard of “more human”
by an outside definition. Even if people don’t understand us, the things we do
have the power to be noble, and we have the power to accept ourselves. I won’t
lie, that isn’t always easy, nor is it easy to accept it when our efforts go
unnoticed. But again, Cole provides me comfort. Regarding his own efforts to
heal people, he notes there are “too many to ever be done. A sea of tears. But
everyone gets a chance.” That’s good enough for me.
Data and Lal
from Star Trek: The Next Generation
There are a lot of things that my headcanon aspec characters
today have in common, but one of the biggest ones is that they’re not entirely
human – Seven, as a former Borg, is often treated as more Borg than person,
Cole is a spirit of compassion with a human form, and my last two characters,
Data and Lal from Star Trek: The Next Generation (TNG), are both
androids. As the previously referenced post by Claire Rosemary says and as I’ve
discussed in my own posts, there can be many inherent problems with portraying
non-human characters as aspec, chiefly because it makes aspec tendencies seem,
well, not human.
Given there are several human characters I headcanon as aspec, it may seem a little odd that I instead chose to focus on non-human ones
specifically in this post; however, despite some of the problems that exist, I
nevertheless believe these characters can teach us a great deal. In the media
they’re in, these characters are often used to make commentary on what it means
to be human, but in my own focus, they can teach us what it means to be human
outside of the usual standards. Perhaps no characters typify this better than
Data and his daughter Lal, the latter of whom makes her sole appearance in an
episode known as “The Offspring.” Data’s role in TNG is often to explore what
it means to be human and to have emotions, something which is explored even
more in depth with his ill-fated daughter, whom he creates with the hopes that
his own experiences can live on through her. Although this notion never comes
to pass, he teaches her, she teaches him, and I believe both of them can teach
us a great deal about being human beyond the usual metrics that are assigned to
them.
“Effort Yields
Its Own Rewards”
Much like Cole, Data and Lal represent the notion of
self-worth as compared to how others perceive you. Since Data is a regular
character in the show, this theme is explored in great depth with him
throughout the series, highlighted in many Data-centric episodes such as “The
Measure of a Man” or “Data’s Day.” However, Lal’s single appearance on the show
is saturated in this theme and she is a good – albeit tragic –
character to deliver this message. For instance, when Lal is activated by Data,
she has the appearance of an older teenager or a young adult, but she still
lacks a great deal of fundamental knowledge which she tries to learn in a
school environment. However, she expresses dismay about the fact that she can’t
possibly fit in with any of her peers – younger children fear her, older
children mock her, and this is all inherently at odds with how she perceives
herself.
Although Lal does not have an emotional reaction to this
“othering,” it nevertheless teaches her the lesson that she’s different and
that being different means she will be ostracized. As such, she doesn’t want to
be different, something that I’ve experienced a great deal in my life chiefly
because I too don’t want to be ostracized. I imagine this feeling must be true
for many people with identities that are considered “different”; while I’m
proud of who I am and don’t actually want to change myself, there are many
instances where my mind tricks me into thinking that I do, because it feels like
life would be easier. As I mentioned in my recent post about my aspec fears, I
know that wouldn’t actually be the case, but it can be easy to fall into that
trap just like Lal does, and feel, even if you like who you are, that who you
are is leading to you being ridiculed and othered. While this is a problem not with the individual, but rather with
those around them, it’s not easy to change the world and so, I think, we often
fall into the trap that we should change ourselves instead.
When Lal takes these concerns to her father, he tells her “we
must strive to be more than we are,” which is of course tied into Data’s own
desires to be more human. However, he also tells her something that I find more
poignant, more meaningful, and more relevant to my life – he acknowledges that
they, of course, will never truly be human, but that “the effort yields its own
rewards.” Again, in Data’s case, he’s referring to the effort to be seen as more
human, but I take a different lesson from that. Much like I discussed with Cole
and the fact that our efforts, personalities, or unique qualities may go
unnoticed, I see Data’s lesson to Lal as reminding me to keep trying even when
things seem impossible. Quite often, I look at my life as an aspec person and think I’m wasting my time. I wonder why I even care about these issues or talk
about these things. I ask myself if representation even matters or if I should
even be discussing it. I sometimes think I should just shut up, go away, and
stop trying. But Data’s right, the effort does yield its own rewards.
For Data, Lal, and the other androids like them, humanity
will always be just out of their grasp, just like a “normal” life by a lot of
people’s definition will never be something I ever have. But that doesn’t have
to be a bad thing. Data tries to teach his daughter to strive for more, and in
my case, I’m reminded that striving for more can mean hoping for more
acceptance, representation, etc. And I’m reminded that, even if I never
actually get those things, at least I’ve tried. Lal wonders why Data does
this, feeling like that constant striving without ever actually achieving the
goal is just a reminder of incompleteness. But Data tells her this: “It is the
struggle itself that is most important… it does not matter that we will never
reach our ultimate goal.” The use of the word struggle here feels apropos, both
for their journey and for my own, and it reminds me that the things I do are
never wasted.
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| Image description: Data teaching Lal about the world around her in "The Offspring" |
Because of how my update schedule falls, this will be my
last post before Thanksgiving, so if you celebrate the holiday, I hope you have
a time full of gratitude and time to reflect. If you don’t, I nevertheless hope
this season brings you peace of mind and happiness. I will not be posting the
Friday after the holiday to give myself a little holiday break, but will be
back again the week after as I prepare for my last few posts of the year!
As always, I am thankful for all of you reading this, and
wish you a great Thanksgiving – or just a good few weeks. See you in December!
- The Asexual Geek
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