☼𝒿𝓊𝓃☼

To be clear, I adore Supernatural.  I love it for its unabashed campiness, lovable and emotionally complex characters, and (by television standards) mythological accuracy.  Indeed, the members of “Team Free Will” have touched me in ways few characters have before, and they will always have a place in my heart. 

But several aspects of it undeniably warrant criticism:  Dean’s often implied (yet never confirmed) bisexuality, its treatment of women, lack of diversity, and whatever the hell was going on in season seven, all make the list.

For me, I’m frequently irked by its flippant treatment of blatant sexual violence. 

The Department of Justice defines sexual assault as follows:   

Sexual assault is any type of sexual contact or behavior that occurs without the explicit consent of the recipient.

This includes groping, sex with someone of misinformed identity (i.e, rape by deception), as well as any kind of sex that occurs with someone who has been drugged, is unconscious, or lacks the ability to say no.  

Here are a few examples throughout Supernatural’s many seasons that explicitly fit this criteria:  

1.  Dean and Abaddon, “Devil May Care,” 9.02

There’s a lot of talk about how hot this scene is, and with good reason:  Dean and Abaddon have undeniable chemistry, and on a somewhat shallow note, they both look amazing.  

Nevertheless, if their genders were reversed, this scene would be undeniably creepy as hell.  

Here, Abaddon is implying the threat of sexual violence in order to instill fear in an already restrained victim.  She even starts to undress him (and he, unsuccessfully, tries to stop her) before she ever mentions her intent to remove his pentacle tattoo. 

Moreover, the touching and groping, however seductive, is completely non-consensual.  

If Dean were a woman and Abaddon a man, there’s no doubt in my mind that it would be socially unacceptable to fetishize this scene, with the exception of a couple pervy, anonymous fanfic writers (a la the same variety who produce Jessica Jones/Kilgrave works.)

2.  Sam and Becky, “Time for a Wedding,” 7.08

Yes, this episode is hilarious.  Becky is a hilarious (and at times, oddly relatable) character.  But, as with Dean’s altercation with Abaddon, it would suddenly become extremely uncomfortable if their genders were switched.

Becky knocks Sam unconscious, restrains him (sans pants) to a bed, and gives him a potion that makes him “fall in love with her” and effectively removing his ability to consent.  

If Sam were a girl, it would be utterly impossible to portray this as comedic in our day and age without facing significant backlash.

3.  Castiel and the Reaper, “I’m No Angel,” 9.03

This entire arc rubbed me completely the wrong way.  I get the fact that the writers wanted to depict Cas experiencing the as much of the human experience as possible in the time alotted, but a) sex does not define the human experience, and b) there were definitely more tasteful ways to go about it.

To be clear, I consider this to be a violation for both Cas and (the real) April:  April, being possessed, is unable to consent to sex, and neither can Cas, as he is misinformed of the identity of his partner (legally, this would be considered rape by deception.) 

This is a completely unnecessary plot development to begin with – the Reaper’s intent was to interrogate and kill Cas, and there was absolutely no reason for her to have sex with him – but what’s even worse is the flippant way in which it’s handled afterwards.  

Of course, Cas has to enjoy being deceived and taken advantage of, and Dean has to congratulate him for it.

Otherwise, it would be gay.  And we can’t have this canonically genderless, man-shaped celestial wavelength do something gay, now can we?  

*Cough* Too late.  *Cough*

4.  Sam and Lucifer, (mostly) season 7

I love Mark Pellegrino’s hammy, weirdly lovable depiction of Lucifer as much as anybody, but I think we can all agree at this point that Lucifer was (and is) an objectively terrifying character.

Aside from his glowing red eyes, forked tongue, and proficiency towards torture, few traits are as disturbing (or creepily fetishized by the fandom) as his prolonged abuse of Sam.  Abuse that is frequently implied to be sexual. 

Now, it’s easy for us to forget this little fact, but Lucifer is, in fact, Satan;  he’s kind of the big daddy of original sin.  And the fact that rape isn’t something he’d consider a no-no isn’t something that would bother me, if the show didn’t treat the matter with such annoying flippancy.

Sam is later shown casually interacting with Lucifer during his season eleven stint in the bunker, seeming only marginally irritated with him monopolizing his bedroom, and generally depicting their relationship as something out of a quirky sitcom rather than a dynamic between abuser and survivor. 

5.  Dean and Amara, season 11

Season 11 was, in my humble opinion, an all-around solid run.  Yes, it didn’t have nearly enough Cas for my preferences, and the characteristically outlandish plot revolves around the unexpected reveal that God has siblings, but the arc was strong, each episode had meaning, and Misha’s depiction of Lucifer was absolutely brilliant. 

One thing that bothered me immensely, however, was Amara’s repeated (and consequence free) sexual assault of Dean.  

Dean is not only unable to give consent due to Amara’s power over him, but she is shown kissing and touching him completely against his will.  

This is made doubly creepy by the fact that she begins her advances on him in the form of an adolescent.  

Yes, Amara’s newness to humanity could explain her poor concept of consent, but what bothers me most is the fact that these violations are never addressed:  it’s never said that kissing a non-consenting partner is wrong, and thus, Amara never apologizes for it.  

I appreciate Amara’s humanization at the end of the season, as it marks a more progressive era for the show under Dabb’s rule:  so far, he’s been great about improving the treatment of female characters, adding tremendous emotional depth to the formerly shallow Rowena, and providing us with a complex and captivating Mary.

But if and when Amara returns to the show, I would love to see her apologize:  apologize for the innocent people she killed or ate, for needlessly bullying poor PTSD-ridden, agoraphobic, self-loathing Cas, and yes, for sexually assaulting Dean as well.  

She’s already shown substantial character development in her reconciliation with Chuck and efforts to repay Dean for bringing them together.  A great next step would to see her making amends. 

Obviously, the list doesn’t end here:  I could easily go into the disturbing implications of Dean’s relationship with Alistair, Bela’s abusive parents, Crowley’s non-consensual orgy, and the dubious nature of sex under demonic possession to begin with. 

But for now, I’ll stick to addressing these five examples, which I consider to be the most flippantly treated, and arguably the most fetishized.  

This is troublesome, because contrary to popular belief, men are very frequently sexually assaulted:  approximately one in twenty will be assaulted within their life, and their odds of even being taken seriously by law enforcement (or the public) is very slim.

To this day, a twelve-year-old boy can be raped by his conventionally attractive female teacher, and there will be countless comments stating that “the kid probably enjoyed it” or that “he’s lucky.”

For this reason, we can not tolerate the casual disregard for sexual assault in popular media, regardless of the gender of its victims.  Obviously, we are not the writers, and can’t control the kind of content they choose to produce:  we can, however, call it for what it is, and treat it as such.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute. In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By his ideas? No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observable. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors. That which we lack attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad always has his eyes fixed on heaven. Why? In order to watch the bird in its flight. Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him.

KYLE ADAMS as GRANTAIRE