How Do You Solve a Problem Like Buffy?

Attention, television nerds: yesterday celebrated the fifteenth anniversary of the airing of the first episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Buffy was welcomed to the Hellmouth, introduced to Giles, Willow, Xander, and Cordelia, and her life was never the same.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is an incredibly important work for me in my development as feminist and a writer, and I spent a good amount of time angsting over how I could best honor the show on my blog.

I could do a season-by-season breakdown of my major opinions on the show, discussing the larger themes of each season, highlighting each season’s best and worst aspects, and talking about how the seasonal themes fit into the themes of the show overall. (For the record, this is how I rank the seasons in ascending order from least favorite to favorite: 4, 5, 3, 1, 6, 7, 2. I am aware that this makes me weird.)

I could write a post about the portrayal of rape, sexual assault, and consent issues in the show’s history and how those issues reflect our culture at large.

I could write a post about the very fact that several characters in the show have been both the perpetrators and the victims of sexual assault and violation of consent, and what that says about each of their characters.

I could write a post examining my conflicted feelings for the Buffy/Spike relationship and why I adore that pairing despite the events of “Seeing Red.”

I could write a post about my impatience with the “defanged Spike” crowd that insists he was SO much of a better character when he was a pure villain, even though the show was writing him as NOT a pure villain and at least somewhat sympathetic since “I Only Have Eyes for You.” (His tenth episode out of ninety-six, by the way.)

I could write a post examining my conflicted feelings for the Buffy/Angel relationship and how (I feel) the show itself often contradicted itself in its portrayal of said dynamic.

I could write a post examining the different layers of the Buffy/Faith dynamic, as well as my not-so-unpopular theory that Faith is a huge repressed lesbian.

I could write a post examining the history and changing dynamics of the Buffy/Willow friendship and Willow’s jealousy issues.

I could write a post just about Willow and how that character infuriates and fascinates me in equal measure.

I could write a post about the Buffy/Xander friendship and how Xander’s feelings for Buffy change over time.

I could write a post just about Xander, looking at him analytically, examining his flaws and the roots of those flaws, and talking about why I love him in spite and because of those flaws, because I seriously love Xander so much, you guys.

I could write a post about the fact that, in my world, the season eight comics do not exist. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never happened. If they did happen, they don’t count. End of story.

I could do a neat compare and contrast exercise about the portrayal of vampires in Buffy versus the portrayal of vampires in The Vampire Diaries.

I could write a post about an idea that JUST popped into my head RIGHT NOW, that my copious amounts of love for The Vampire Diaries and Community can be explained by the fact that both shows fill my dramatic and comedic needs that Buffy used to fill. (Of course they air at the same time. Of course they do. Thanks for tearing my heart and loyalties in half every week, television programmers.)

I could write about the soul curse, and how one of my favorite plot twists in the history of television opened up a huge can of thematic worms, made the show contradict itself many times, and never satisfyingly showed us what a soul actually was. The second half of season two is incredible, but I think Whedon chickened out with the whole “soul” issue, and in the end, what we got was ambiguous in a bad sloppy way, not ambiguous in an interesting and complex way.

I could write about how much I hate Riley. I seriously hate Riley. A lot. I can’t believe the show wasted a season and a half on Captain Cardboard.

I could talk about how much my eyes roll when I read claims that Angel is the “darker” and “more mature” of the two shows. All I can say to that is a very hearty, “Whatever.” (On the other hand, the Angel dance is still one of the best things ever.)

I could write a post about the most feminist individual episodes of the series, fulfilling the “feminist” part of my blog title.

I could write a post about the funniest individual episodes of the series, fulfilling the “funny” part of my blog title.

I could write a post listing the most underrated and overrated episodes of the show’s run. Right now, those episodes are “Bad Eggs” and “The Body,” respectively. YEAH, I SAID IT. “THE BODY” IS OVERRATED. DEAL WITH IT! *evil laugh*

I could write a post about how I desperately want to watch the entire show from the beginning, and oh my god, everyone, I so don’t have the time, what is wrong with me.

I could write a post examining the way the show gives us examples of women, especially Buffy, finding strength in solitude and finding strength in community, and how she navigates through and struggles with both of those concepts.

I could write about any and all of these topics, and then I realized that one way I could honor Buffy the Vampire Slayer and what the show has meant to me is to simply acknowledge that, fifteen years after the airing of the first episode, I still have this much to say about it. I may very well write about some, or even all, of these topics that I listed sometime in the future. For now, all I can say is that I love this show. Thank you, cast and crew and Joss Whedon, for giving us seven seasons of this show. (That’s right. SEVEN. Remember, the comics don’t exist.)