The politics of space and queerness in “The Wire”

Yesterday was a Level II Snow Emergency here in central Ohio, which meant no work for me and no school for my partner!  Snow days are so crazy here.  They literally take the buzz out of the city and it sort of mutes everything.  It’s a little bit beautiful.

Regardless, we were up early, fully intending to get to work/class on time, coffee buzz significantly on its way, and too excited to go back to sleep (which is rare for me, but I blame the coffee).  So we decided to stroll over to our favorite video rental store and get season one of The Wire.  And yes, we watched all 13 episodes.  In a row.  Maybe 5 minutes pee break in between…  My laziness disgusts me, too.  However, I did make some observations about the show that I’d love to share, but be warned I’ve *only* watched season 1 so no spoilers, please!

My initial thoughts seem to reflect the general consesnsus of the show: strong writing, complex characters, powerful images, detailed camera work, funky theme song (do not lie and tell me you didn’t shake your butt to the opening credits; I did 13 times).  Overall, this show seems really well produced to me, which is not unsurprising for an HBO series.  You also get the “mature” language and countless boob shots too, of course–to the point where you wonder if it’s really necessary to have so many boobs in one episode.  Despite the fact that there is a pretty clearly defined main character, Detective Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West), it somewhat surprisingly develops all of the characters evenly from episode to episode.  This I think really helps facilitate the importance of partnerships and team dependency generally, which of course reflects the pressing situation of the characters working together on the case at hand.

The show situates itself on Baltimore’s west side, where a group of detectives from various police departments are forced to work together on a case that a local judge put pressure on the Deputy to solve.  The case ends up being much bigger and much more complicated than anyone expected, and is further aggravated by the clashing attitudes of the officers assigned to the case.  Furthermore, their target, drug lord Avon Barksdale (Wood Harris), is slowly catching on to the investigation, and we are equally drawn into his world where drug work, family, and large-scale institutional racism/classism intersect.

What made me fall in love with the show is how the characters are so well placed in their locations.  In other words, geography plays a large role in this series.  The audience is offered many opportunities to judge the characters’ actions but is constantly reminded of the context: the drug dealers are crude and violent, but they were never taught any other way to survive; the police react violently to the drug dealers, but if they resisted physically showing their power, they would be stomped on both physically and politically.  We even see the extent to which the system entraps individuals, and feel almost hopeless about any kind of “positive” reform in the community.  This again reaches all characters, for instance Lieutenant Cedric Daniels (Lance Reddick) is constantly battling whether or not to follow the “chain of command” and deal with the intrusion of politics in getting certain orders approved for the case, or going forward without upper-management consent in order to get the good police work done most effectively, but risking his job, and certainly any chance for a promotion.  We also see this in Bubbles (Andre Royo) as he tries to kick his heroin habit, though having no systemic support from family or friends.  When it looks like he’s really going to pull through, he’s not able to get enough money to provide him with the most basic needs that might help sustain his cleanse, and he starts shooting up again.  This hopelessness is perhaps most vividly exemplified through Wallace (Michael B. Jordan) and D’Angelo Barksdale (Larry Gilliard Jr.).  Both try to leave their Project-ruled lives–quit drugs, run away, snitch on dealings with Avon to the police–and both return, unable to free themselves from their concepts of “home” and “family”, both deeply tied to “the game” and the poor housing developments.

I’m really impressed with how critically the show deals with the politics of space–not just political structures.  The buildings and streets play a significant role in character development and in plot progression: the couch in the courtyard of the “low risers”, the dingy office where they were stuck to work on the case, the “fifth floor” where the higher-up officials have corner offices, the space of the courtroom, Orlando’s…  We familiarize ourselves with the locations and see these spaces transform the story.  We also connect with the characters’ sense of intimacy with these spaces as representations of the paradoxical community and divide.  Spaces are designated, not only as a sense of belonging but also as property.  Space can also be used as a powerful tool: Detective Kima Greggs (Sonja Sohn) “knows” the city and finds security in this knowledge, but Avon’s crew manipulates this by changing the street signs, rendering her unable to communicate her location to the backup team.  Having said that, this probably comes easily to a show that focuses on local crime and evidence-based field work, but they really make it work by keeping characters complex and the camera work interesting.

The show also introduces us to two queer characters, both of whom are persons of color.  Det. Greggs and Omar (Michael K. Williams).  I’m glad that they first of all decided to put in more than one queer character, and second of all that the characters are very different–as opposed to tokenizing, which so many shows do just to look “diverse”.  The show also doesn’t spend a lot of time showcasing queerness, which is consistent with how it deals with the other hetero characters.  Actually, both Greggs and Omar are shown in committed (monogamous) relationships, and healthy ones at that–only rivaled by Lt. Daniels’s relationship with his wife.  I was so happy/suprised to see these representations on TV I nearly pooped my pants.  But I feared the worst to happen, which kind of came…

Omar’s partner gets killed–and not just killed, brutally beaten from the inside out–fairly early on.  This is not so terrible, especially because this was used as a device to turn Omar into somewhat of an informant, but also a powerful enemy to Avon’s gang.  (Although, I’ve really been considering whether this fits in with the women-in-refrigerators category, and I think it might…)  Then, all in the same episode, Greggs gets shot and almost killed, and Omar has to leave town.  That’s right, we lose both queer characters at the same time.

Now I know some people will say that Greggs, or at least her presence, still remained part of the show and she eventually gets over her paralysis and I’m assuming comes back as a central character in Season 2.  (Note: notice that she can’t continue her work until she is “fully” rehabilitated–this show does not represent physical disability all that much so far, but alas, another time another post.)  However, this is a classic tale of how the woman must be sacrificed in order for the goal to be met.  Because really that’s exactly what happened: Greggs gets shot, Det. McNulty of course accepts the blame, and the team ends up going back to work in order to avenge Gregg’s shooting.  The focus on her character turns from active member of the team to body that needs avenging/protecting.  I was completely expecting this, though I’m relieved they didn’t just kill her off, in the same way that I was relieved to see Omar come back to town in the season finale.

So, to sum it up, I’m really interested in The Wire and am excited to see where it will go with spatial and queer identities/represenations.  These are just my initial reflections of the show, the aspects that stood out to me, and I’m curious to see what other feminists who have watched the show think of it.  It barely passes the Bechdel Test, but I’m ok with that for now because of the way the police department is sturctured and because of the overarching critique of violence against women (perhaps, again, for a later post).  Then again, there is the boob thing, but that might be an HBO requirement by now.  I should also mention a large part of the show that I skipped over was representations of race, which I think are done well, but I’d be curious to hear someone else’s voice on that matter first!

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