An Analysis of Star Trek TNG’s “The Outcast”: A Social Commentary on Society’s Gender Norms through Science-Fiction

      Science fiction has long grasped the attention and curiosity of the public eye. From Mary Shelley’s 19th century novel Frankenstein, to present day Star Wars movies, we see science fiction taking on a plethora of forms as it pervades society. Recently, some critics have taken it upon themselves to deem science fiction as the genre of the century (Vint 2014). However, such a classification proves controversial in the eyes of the science fiction authors; reconciling science fiction as its own “genre” with simply one definition unintentionally takes away the true meaning of the work itself, which builds itself from the fact that the definition of science fiction is fluid. What has, on the other hand, gone for the most part uncontested is the ability of science fiction to serve as a form of social commentary, whether it be explicitly or implicitly. The importance of science fiction lies in this form of shedding light on critical issues that encompass our culture  — all simply through a creation of a reality that is itself slightly askew and allegorical, usually parodying the reality we know. Historically, one of the strongest areas of commentary involves the discussion of gender and sexuality; Ursula LeGuin’s Left Hand of Darkness, Marge Piercy’s He, She and It, and Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale all shed light on such. In 1992, the television series, Star Trek: The Next Generation, tackles these topics in one of its episode titled “The Outcast.” The episode’s incorporation of the androgynous race, the J’naii, implicitly serves an important purpose: to unwittingly further society’s progress in accepting the spectrum of gender and sexuality. Specifically, the episode’s development of the relationship between Soren, a J’naii, and Captain Riker, a human, speaks to the devastating repercussions of society’s prejudice against those who do not conform to the gender binary.

      The terms which allow Soren and Captain Riker to get to know each other are strictly professional, allowing the intricacies in their interactions and personalities to shine through; they, and every individual, are defined not solely by one characteristic, but countless characteristics. At the beginning of the episode, the crisis is introduced: one of the J’naii ships is lost in a pocket of null space — an extremely dangerous type of region in space. Captain Riker is thus assigned to work with one of the J’naii, Soren, to determine the best course of action to rescue the crew of the missing ship. The two spend several scenes simply getting to know each other, during which the initial awkwardness between them, despite them being of different species, eventually fades away. Their interactions highlight Soren’s charm, intelligence, and wit, as well as Captain Riker’s humor and capabilities. Soren’s physical features are pronounced, with her enlarged forehead and protruding skull, but the cinematography allows us to look past the differences between her androgynous form and Riker’s familiar, human form. Rather, we see that despite their differing physical features, they unite and bond both upon Soren’s abilities and the crisis at hand. This basis by which they bond becomes increasingly important as their relationship begins to develop romantically. This initial focus on these more individual intricacies, before directly focusing on the larger issues of gender and sexuality, subtly serves as commentary, dictating that relationships should not be accepted or rejected in society solely based off the gender of the partners—there is so much more to consider.

      As Soren and Captain Riker spend more time together and ultimately become romantically involved, they enlighten each other on the societal norms regarding gender and relationships for each other’s race. At one point, their conversation turns towards a new direction when Soren states curiously, “Captain, tell me about your sexual organs” (Roddenberry & Sheerer, 1992). Captain Riker proceeds to explain to her how in the human race, individuals either identify as male or female. In response, Soren asks numerous questions, wondering how such a norm exists that is so different to her own; the J’naii believe that they have evolved beyond gender and thus view the idea of male/female sexuality as primitive. These two dramatically contrasting views of gender and sexuality in their respective societies—paired with the mirroring fascinated expressions on their faces—question the basis of a gender binary. It is as if the writer of the episode is questioning: who are we, as a culture, to decide how one should identify as for their gender or sexuality? In fact, the choice of the writer of the episode in having Captain Riker describe self-identification of gender as a rigid binary—despite hopeful progress during the 1990s when the episode debuted towards seeing gender and sexuality as fluid—sets the premise for Soren’s following confession. She finally admits that she identifies as a female, and that she has feelings for Captain Riker, who echoes his own mental and physical attraction to her. However, while Soren repeats how dangerous having a relationship is, the two still decide to take the risk. The importance of Soren’s confession lies in the parallels between her fears of being found out by the J’naii government to those of many individuals in the real world who were still afraid to “come out of the closet.” It seems to us that her identification as female is nothing out of the ordinary, but the fact that the J’naii ideals are flipped from ours—with androgynous as the only acceptable identification and nothing else—only furthers this point. Ultimately, Soren’s concerns serve to act as a direct statement against the persisting prejudice in society against those who don’t necessarily lie on either extreme of the gender spectrum.

      Soon after Soren’s confession, the rest of the J’naii somehow find out about her unacceptable relationship with Captain Riker, and put her on trial. The proceedings of the trial seem very familiar to us as they echo the shameful history of our own progressive society. In fact, even the increase in media campaigns and coercive messages from family and community members during the 90s created an environment where many homosexuals felt pressured to seek conversion therapies (Jenkins et al., 2004). These conversion therapies, however, have no legitimate scientific basis; they cannot and will not change sexual orientation or one’s self-identification of gender. Rather, the people promoting these conversion therapies do so because they believe that any person who does not identify with society’s norms regarding gender and sexual orientation must be “sick.” The writers of the episode criticize this nonsensical belief through Soren’s monologue during the trial, during which she asks in a powerful yet quiet voice, “If you prick me, do I not bleed?” Soren’s inquiry begs the question of how different she and those like her truly are, simply because she identifies herself with a gender whereas others do not. Raising her voice with every statement, Soren continues to plead and make the judge understand that her identifying as female is a part of who she is and is not something they can fix, nor should persecute her for. With that, the writers were able to use this episode to raise a platform for greater discussion on the issue of gender identity and sexuality, for Soren’s situation speaks a thousand truths to the harsh reality of prejudice that many transgenders have faced historically, and even nowadays face, simply because they do not conform to popular gender norms.

      The trial’s following outcome acts as a cry of rage on behalf of every individual who has been demeaned for what gender they identify as or who they choose to love. In conclusion of the trial, the judge simply banishes Soren in a calm voice, calling her “sick” before sending her off to undergo psychotectics, which is essentially conversion therapy as we know it. The dismissive nature of the J’naii judge’s response to Soren is representative of our culture’s quickness to stigmatize or banish what is foreign to us. What is the most powerful, however, is how the decision of the writers to flip the norms—where if one identifies as a specific gender, they are deemed an “outcast”—only makes the audience feel more outraged at the J’naii. This feeling of outrage allows the audience to recover from their initial shock that such a thing could occur before realizing that this very situation is one that still occurs in the real world, and is thus very relevant. To put it in perspective, just two years ago, former President Barack Obama had to call for an end to the practice of these conversion therapies of gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) young people. He was prompted by a petition drafted after the tragic suicide of 17-year-old transgender girl, Leelah Alcorn, from Ohio, USA, who had undergone one of these so-called treatments against her will (The Lancet, 2015). We see a familiar scenario with Soren, when Captain Riker tries to go rescue her. At this point, the audience is captivated by this human and alien relationship between Riker and Soren. Thus, Soren’s response when Riker reaches Soren and tells her they can run away together is chilling to those watching; she tells Riker that she was wrong initially, that she was mistaken and ill, and that she is happy now. It seems that this episode, starting out seemingly distant from our present reality, has now hit a bit too close home when Soren and Riker’s relationship comes to its end. The ambiguity, intentional or not, of whether Soren was actually converted goes to highlight the two most devastating situations: the forced self-hatred and internalization that many who identify as LGBTQ+ in our society feel while still “in the closet,” and the practice of conversion therapies for those who have openly identified themselves on the spectrum. Soren’s choice is stripped away from her, and we’re given no comfort in that, no balancing sense that the universe should somehow readdress this wrong; that feeling of violation forces  us to emphasize with the Sorens of our own society.

      Ultimately, this episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation acts as a stepping stone in the staircase to acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community in society. Its effectiveness stems from the integration of the androgynous race of the J’naii, particularly the relation between one of their own and a human—a speculative element that, through its development in the episode, captures the audience’s hearts and forces them to realize the chilling parallels between the episode and present reality. The topics that these parallels address are, as previously mentioned, timeless; they are ever more present today, given that much of the progress made in the 20th and early 21st century has reversed itself with the current political environment. At the same time, we see the power of science fiction in taking on this role through its ability to play on reality in a way that acts as social commentary. Fundamentally, what is highlighted through the episode’s speculative aspects and parallels is the persisting need for activism on behalf of the LGBTQ+ community— people who are no different than us—particularly through literature, media, and general advocacy. Only through these further efforts will we be able to relinquish the nonsensical prejudices that continue to inundate the world today.

Works Cited

Jenkins, David & Johnston, Lon B. (2004). Unethical Treatment of Gay and Lesbian People With Conversion Therapy. Families in Society: Milwaukee Vol. 85, Iss. 4, 557-561.

Roddenberry, G. (Writer), & Sheerer, R. (Director). (1992, March 14). The Outcast. Star Trek: The Next Generation. Los Angeles, CA: Paramount Television.

The Lancet. (2015, April 18) Ending LGBT conversion therapies. London Vol. 385, Iss. 9977,  pp. 1478.

Vint, Sherryl. (2014). A Guide for the Perplexed. Chennai, India; Bloomsbury.