Another Thursday, another piece of fiction in exactly 140 characters. Today I’m feeling the science fiction vibe:
You gasp, “So close!”, as your ship explodes. Only your words return from the dark. Your remains are scattered across stars, your true love.
I was watching an episode of Star Wars: Clone Wars recently, which is pretty decent juvenile fare. There was a space battle above a planet, and as lasers removed chunks of battleships, and little nippy fighters slipped among them, canons blasting, I experienced a feeling of contentment.
There is something about a good space battle that just satisfies some amoral craving in my heart. I remember the first time I saw the episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation that featured the Battle of Wolf 359: all those beautiful space craft busted up, and that Borg cube beating the crap out of the Federation’s finest. I sighed with delight. It was the point that ST: NG proved that it could provide kick-ass action, even if it always skirted away from the really hard choices. Like assimilating Picard into the Borg collective, and then wussing out and unassimilating him without many consequences. Often I wondered if the writers of the show forgot that the Federation was supposed to be a military outfit.
Still, getting back to Clone Wars: there I was, enjoying the pretty space battle and the action switches back to a meeting on one of the ships between generals discussing tactics. Ahsoka Tano, the Togruta Jedi Padawan to Anakin Skywalker, was present and offering a daring suggestion, as is the wont of Jedi padawan. I like the character of Ahsoka: she’s brave, a good fighter, loyal, and with just the right dash of arrogant attitude for a youngster who can crush people’s windpipes with the power of her mind.
Yet, I realise that she’s wearing what amounts to a boob tube and a mini skirt. All the other Jedi are wearing clothing appropriate for battle. The generals are kitted out in military gear. Yet, the teenaged Jedi girl is performing her Force Leaps in a teeny skirt.
Seriously, dudes. And yes, I’m sure it was a man who designed or okayed this outfit. Stop with the hyper-sexualisation of female characters. Yes, we have breasts. We know you like them. That’s your bias, not ours.
As a general rule if we go to the supermarket we wear more than a strip of cloth around our breasts. So, when we plan to invade an enemy warship with just the Force and our light sabre to keep us from a messy death, we would wear a more practical outfit. I’m sure it would be stylish. Jedi have a reputation to uphold after all. But, until you have the boys jumping about in loincloths, you’re going to have to explain to me with a reasonable argument why the girls always wear less clothing.
And, more space battles please!