We’ve watched way too much children’s television during this pandemic, and I’ve noticed something about representation of female characters that starts out looking like a form of empowerment, until the pattern becomes clear. While, with some exceptions—looking at you, Paw Patrol—there are more kids’ show female characters than in the bad old days of the Smurfs and such, and they’re not exclusively pink and weak, the progress has fallen into a new, irritating model.
I speak, of course, of the girl mechanic/tech whiz. She’s highly competent in a field that may be traditionally male (there are, of course, variations on what these characters do), but what she is not is a regular part of the field team that goes out and has adventures. She’s not at home cooking, but she is back on the highly merchandizable vehicular home base in a support role.
Octonauts includes Dashi the IT officer and Tweak the engineer, but in the show’s intro, the hierarchy is made clear—it’s Kwazii, Peso, and Captain Barnacles who get to declaim “explore,” “rescue,” and “protect,” respectively. Those are the real Octonauts who go out and rescue creatures episode after episode, with Dashi and Tweak (and the male characters Shellington and Professor Inkling and the Vegimals) only going out of the Octopod every so often on special occasions. Dashi sits at a screen pressing buttons and issuing warnings, and Tweak fixes the stuff the main Octonauts (usually Kwazii) mess up and building amazing things that center in stories in which she’s peripheral.
(And don’t even get me started on how 90% of the sea creatures the Octonauts encounter are male.)
Wild Kratts does a little better by its women, Aviva the inventor and Koki the mechanic and communications expert. While their roles often keep them in the Tortuga, they—Aviva in particular—do get to go out on adventures, tangle with villains, and express strong opinions. Nonetheless, they are fundamentally there to support the Kratt brothers in their creature adventures. (And Koki, a Black woman character, is apparently voiced by a white woman, so points off for that.)
I could go on. Top Wing has Bea the, yes, mechanic (and, admittedly, Penny the Top Wing cadet—but the smallest, squeakiest cadet, one girl out of four cadets). Blaze and the Monster Machines has Gabby the—wait for it—mechanic (and Starla the weird cowgirl monster truck). And these are shows that seem, in their way, to be making an effort. Unlike, again, Paw Patrol. Or Stinky and Dirty, which I really like aside from the major gender imbalance (and which doesn’t make a big point of its main characters being male—it’s just that they both are). Ninjago, just yuck. Miniforce, extra yuck.
There are better shows out there, to be sure. Puffin Rock is precious, and the rare show with a big sister and little brother. Dora the Explorer, obviously, is a classic, and Dora is Latina. I’m told Molly of Denali, which has an Alaska Native lead character, is great. Doc McStuffins, which has a Black girl lead character. Dinosaur Train is pretty well balanced. Hello Ninja has a best-friend pair of a boy and a girl as its leads. Super Wings has raised its female-character game as the seasons have gone on. Bubble Guppies is a whole lot more equitable than you would think on a first glimpse of its animation. Pete the Cat has a decent gender balance and, come on, Pete’s parents are voiced by Elvis Costello and Diana Krall, the latter of whom gets to be one of the coolest parents (not just moms) in animated television.
The female mechanic was arguably a form of progress. But it’s stale. Kids need to see girls getting to have adventures, not just making cool gadgets for the boys to go out and adventure with.