I swear to god this show is as gay as fucking tos
I’ve seen several pieces of fanart recently where Julian Bashir is… clearly white. Normally I don’t police people’s art or imagination but it keeps bothering me.
Whitewashing is a common issue in fanart but Bashir is easily the worst, common case I’ve seen this in.
The man is clearly brown and yet people still draw him as pale??
And with red hair! Like… please don’t.
Maybe people don’t get what a big deal it is to have a man of middle eastern descent on tv in that role. That’s part of who he is. Part of his character and family.Edit: Correcting myself, Siddig’s father is from Sudan. Anyway, the point stands about the importance of representation and that he isn’t white so please don’t pretend he is.
Sid has a REALLY good interview that I think about every time I hear about someone whitewashing Bashir. I haven’t seen it float around on here so please do yourself a favor and read it - it’s really, really amazing and beautiful. Some of the stuff he talks about is fucking heartbreaking.
So when I hear people whitewashing Bashir I think of this interview and get irrationally angry.
@dayoldhakarl Thanks, that’s an interesting article! And I think his strategy worked actually, because I remember seeing that episode of Spooks he talks about when I must have been about twelve.
It did really have an effect on me because I recognised him as Bashir and because I knew he was British. Also because the terrorist kid in it was totally British (to the point of having a West Ham shirt on under his suicide vest) it kind of made me realise – no matter what he did- the kid belonged to Britain and was our responsibility.
After 9/11 there was a lot as a child I didn’t understand and was scary. But that episode was the first time I really realised, oh you can be both. It’s not like you have to reject one identity for another.
I agree with the whitewashing art problem. One of my other bugbears though are stories where Bashir isn’t English.
Like the author has got lots of references to Islam and/or skin colour, but has somehow decided that means he has to be from Africa or the Middle East and can’t possibly be English. I mean; really?
He’s called bloody Julian. He’s drunkenly singing Jerusalem, play acting James Bond and The Battle of Britain, eating jam and scones, drinking vast quantities of Tarkelean tea and is totally emotionally repressed.
It’s really important to me on a personal level that he can both British and something else; like if you have two halves to your identity - it’s not a situation where you have to choose one or the other. Nor is one necessarily good whilst the other is bad. There are gentle, harsh and hypocritical things about every culture you can inherit.
Reblogging this again for the comment on Britishness.
(via thebluemeany)
Butterflies
Dukat walked into Quark’s and ordered a glass of Bajoran spring wine. He looked around as the Ferengi prepared his drink, and spotted Garak and the Doctor sharing a meal not too far away.
How vulgar, he thought with a sniff. Garak and his human, such brazen a display. He was never like that. He was suave and subtle and smooth.
“I can’t believe you humans have such dangerous animals and never weaponized them!”
Dukat quickly whipped his head around. Dangerous Terran wildlife? What could the tailor be babbling about now?
“Garak, butterflies aren’t dangerous!” the doctor laughed.
“Not to humans, no, but to other species…”
Dukat frowned. He had never heard of “butterflies.” Was it some sort of secret Terran biological weapon? He didn’t like the sound of that. Quickly polishing off his drink, the Gul made his way back to his temporary quarters to do some research.
—
Garak was bent over his worktable, examining the beadwork on a coat, when Dukat walked in.
“I need a word with you, Garak”
“I don’t. Please leave, you are ruining the ambiance.” Elim replied, not even looking up from his work.
“What was that I heard you talking to your pet doctor about?”
“You’ll have to be more specific, my boyfriend and I talk about a lot of things. 10th century Cardassian poetry? The recent classical revival trends in Trill music? The use of nettles in Betazoid haute cuisine? Or maybe you want a critique of postmodern Andorian theater?”
“I didn’t come here to hear you babble about inane trivialities!” Dukat snapped. “I came here to ask about butterflies!”
“Really now Skrain, eavesdropping on me and the doctor? Have you no manners? What will your mother say!” Garak commented with mock offense, clutching a string of pearls to his chest.
Dukat took a deep breath. Guls, Garak was determined to try his patience. “You said they were ‘dangerous’ and I need to know what you were talking about. They looked innocent enough, on the database.”
“Oh. Those.” Garak shrugged. “I thought you already knew, but I guess your clearance isn’t high enough. Butterflies are deadly to Cardassians.”
“What?!”
“The Order found out ages ago!” Garak rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. And you call yourself a Gul. No wonder they demoted you.”
Dukat’s eyes narrowed. This had to be another of Garak’s dirty tricks. The creatures in the database did not look anywhere near dangerous. Delicate and colorful, perhaps, but not dangerous.
He turned and left the shop.
—
“Doctor, a word?” Dukat called as he entered the infirmary. Julian turned and tilted his head. He’s started to move like a Cardassian, the Gul observed. Too bad he doesn’t spend more time with the better ones. Like him.
“About the butterflies, doctor.”
“Oh, those” Julian shrugged. “Yes, it seems their mere presence causes severe autoimmune reactions in Cardassians.”
“Really?” Garak may be a consummate liar, but Bashir certainly wasn’t.
“Oh, yes, I’m running some tests right now.” Julian waved at a bank of computers and test tubes. “It seems butterflies drop a fine dust wherever they go. In small doses they can cause difficulties in breathing, scale and skin lesions, and, ah, prUt dysfunction.”
Dukat stepped back. PrUt dysfunction? He wasn’t going to risk that.
“It gets worse. Over time they cause heart and liver problems, impotence, and eventually, delirium and death. Strangest reaction I’ve ever seen.” Julian added with a shrug.
“Such a pity,” the doctor continued with a sigh, seemingly unaware of his visitor’s gradual exit. “I wanted to take Garak to Earth but it looks like I can’t.”
—
Dukat spent the rest of his day requesting classified files from Cardassia, but found they were either too vague, or, as Garak had remarked, above his clearance level.
The Gul put his hands over his face. Part of him wanted to dismiss this all at patent nonsense, but another part couldn’t help acknowledge that Garak had been privy to a lot of things as Tain’s former protégé. He wasn’t going to risk it.
Suddenly the computer pinged. It was an old field report.
“Agent [redacted] confirms presence of
butterflieson [redacted]. [Redacted] hazards confirmed. Terminate all [redacted] and initiate quarantine protocol sigma”Dukat stared at the screen, blinking at the incompletely redacted report. Quarantine protocol sigma? It seems Bashir’s assessment of the hazard wasn’t in error. Suddenly he remembered Bashir’s list of health effects. PrUt dysfunction. Impotence. And he had entered the infirmary without taking precautions! Foolish! He quickly stood up and made a beeline for the refresher, throwing his clothes into the replicator for recycling as he went. Later he’d have to put in a request for room sanitation.
—
Molly O'brien skipped along the Promenade, showing everyone the latest gift from her grandmother on Earth.
Dukat’s eyes bulged. Chief O'Brien’s child was holding a jar of butterflies! This could not be a mere coincidence. The “Hero of Setlik III” was clearly up to something.
“It’s a butterfly kit.” she cheerfully proclaimed. “Mommy says we’re going to release them into the arboretum later and they’ll have babies and we’ll have butterflies there forever!”
Unable to restrain himself, the Gul ran screaming out of the station.
In the overhead walkway, Garak gave Julian a sly smile as they walked hand in hand. “Looks like we got him” he grinned.
“You’re terribly sexy when you’re devious.” Julian remarked, squeezing his partner’s hand and giving him a peck on the cheek.
@cyrelia-j: behold, another fine product of Weird Ideas R Us.
I’ve seen several pieces of fanart recently where Julian Bashir is… clearly white. Normally I don’t police people’s art or imagination but it keeps bothering me.
Whitewashing is a common issue in fanart but Bashir is easily the worst, common case I’ve seen this in.
The man is clearly brown and yet people still draw him as pale??
And with red hair! Like… please don’t.
Maybe people don’t get what a big deal it is to have a man of middle eastern descent on tv in that role. That’s part of who he is. Part of his character and family.Edit: Correcting myself, Siddig’s father is from Sudan. Anyway, the point stands about the importance of representation and that he isn’t white so please don’t pretend he is.
Sid has a REALLY good interview that I think about every time I hear about someone whitewashing Bashir. I haven’t seen it float around on here so please do yourself a favor and read it - it’s really, really amazing and beautiful. Some of the stuff he talks about is fucking heartbreaking.
So when I hear people whitewashing Bashir I think of this interview and get irrationally angry.
