Falling Asleep to Star Trek

I recently started rewatching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine for the first time in many years. What a fantastic show, so engaging from the start. The series looks at what happens when the Federation assists the recently liberated Bajoran people in operating a space station that was once a work camp run by brutal Cardassian occupiers. I always felt, even back in the day when I watched new episodes of DS9, that the Bajorans were heavily Palestinian-coded. In the context of Israel’s current genocide in Gaza, this show presents a very compelling story of how communities recover from systematic murder and exploitation, including all the political turmoil that follows.

It’s a gripping and sometimes disturbing show, and yet I cannot help the fact that it often lulls me to sleep. It’s the Star Trek-ness of it that gets me. I have a long history of falling into the deepest slumber while watching these programs. It started when I was a kid who hated both Star Trek and naps. It always seemed to happen on a Sunday afternoon. One of my older brothers would get a hold of the TV dials and say, “Ooh, Star Trek’s on!” And I’d say, “Ew, I hate that show. It’s boring!” And then they’d say, “There’s nothing else on, just dumb sports,” which was usually true. And before I knew it, there would be Spock and Captain Kirk on our screen, with all those strange bee-boop spaceship sounds in the background. I would try to get into the story, try to care about whatever green woman Kirk was romancing in that episode. But I just couldn’t. And then the bee-boop sounds would start to get me. Suddenly I’d feel my eyelids getting heavy and then I’d drift away into the most placid snooze…until I was inevitably awoken by the siren sound of that insane woman humming over the end credits music. My eyes would pop open, I’d see the Desilu Productions credit on the screen, and then I’d be filled with a groggy rage. Tricked into yet another nap by the dullest TV show in the world!

I’ve maintained a pretty bad attitude about naps over the years, but my opinions about Star Trek have changed drastically. I started watching The Next Generation reruns as a teen and got hooked. That’s when I learned you didn’t need to be a science nerd to love Star Trek. You can be a budding socialist who dreams of a better future where exploration replaces militarism, money doesn’t exist, machines create all the food and other necessities you need, and women in authority are called “sir.” I began watching reruns every night. Eventually I got into Deep Space Nine, particularly after TNG’s Worf joined the series in season 3. When both series started getting released on DVD in the early 2000s, my boyfriend would bring home the box sets as soon as they popped up at the used record/video store where he worked. Being able to binge an entire season at my leisure felt like such a dream. 

Of course now I can stream all of the series in their entirety, which is truly a beautiful thing. But something about catching a random episode on TV always felt like such a joy. When my husband and I moved to Chattanooga in 2010 and he’d just started his first job post-grad school, one of my great low-budget delights was watching the 11pm nightly TNG rerun that came in on our digital antenna. One evening my husband noted, “Tara, you never make it through the episode. You just fall asleep on the couch every night.” But what a comforting way to drift off! Those soothing white noise background sounds from the bridge, coupled with Patrick Stewart’s gorgeous accent and stately cadence, felt like a security blanket. Moving to a new town 600 miles away from everything I knew was really scary! I didn’t know what this isolated Appalachian city had in store for me. But I knew exactly what would happen aboard the Starship Enterprise, because I’d already seen every episode. It didn’t matter if I fell asleep. 

Drifting off to DS9 is a different experience, because I haven’t watched in a long time and don’t often remember what happens at the end of each episode. I do know that its harsher storyline becomes quite complicated as the series progresses. TNG was a series of many standalone stories in which justice usually prevailed. DS9 takes a darker, more nuanced view of its various humanoid species, and even the Federation itself. I don’t want to miss what happens in any story, so I find myself scrolling back to the last scene I can recall before the bee-boop sounds of the space station lulled me to sleep. Like I’ll wake up to some intense, climax-building music and think, “Oh my god, did one of the main characters just die?!” And then I have to skip back to the crazy twist that makes it all make sense. Honestly this sort of show shouldn’t be soothing in the least. Part of it’s the bee-boops. Part of it’s that I’m just getting sleepier as I age. And maybe part of it is that in 2024, the DS9 deep trauma vibes feel way more real than TNG’s utopian atmosphere. Perhaps there’s some comfort in that familiarity.

The cast from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (Paramount Television)

The Worfs of the World

I’ve had a crush on Worf for decades, yet it only recently occurred to me that we have very little in common. I figured it out this winter when I rewatched the sci-fi TV series Star Trek: The Next Generation. In the two-part episode “Birthright,” our favorite Klingon security officer for the Starship Enterprise catches a rumor that his father did not actually die in battle with Romulans, but had been taken to a faraway planet. When he sneaks onto the planet’s surface, he doesn’t find his father, but rather discovers two generations of Klingons who’ve been fully assimilated by their Romulan captors. The young people do not crave battle and in fact use their ancestors’ weapons as garden tools. Horrified, Worf seeds a revolution by taking one of these Klingon kids on a hunt. This awakens a latent bloodthirst in the young man that’s just part of the Klingon genetic makeup. His warrior spirit quickly spreads among the youths, who demand to be liberated from the only home they’ve ever known. It’s a great story about incarceration and breaking the chains of internalized oppression. It also made me fully understand that Worf’s very Klingon inclination to fight is an impulse some people have and some people don’t. And I really don’t.

You see, I’m more of a Deanna Troi. She’s the ship’s counselor for the Enterprise and half-Betazoid, which gives her the ability to read other people’s emotions. She’s what’s known as an “empath.” Empathy is pretty much my whole schtick. It’s part of why I’m so introverted. I need recovery time from picking up other people’s energies, especially after they confide their struggles in me (which many are inclined to do, because I’m an attentive and kind listener). I like possessing these skills, which served me very well when I did lots of political canvassing. Grassroots organizing campaigns require all kinds of people with different abilities, and my knack for listening and connecting with other frustrated working class people definitely helped. But if I’m being completely honest, it’s the natural fighters – the Worfs of the world – who really get the movement fired up.

My husband Dan is one of these warrior types – not in a physically violent way, but in a “yells at the mayor on camera” way. He loves to pick a good political fight, and he inspires other fighters to show up for battle. Together they stop landlords from evicting tenants, they prevent our local government from selling what little affordable housing remains in this town, and they push electoral candidates to support mandatory legal services for those facing eviction. And there’s no namby-pamby, liberal, “let’s reach across the aisle and play nice with each other” spirit about this. These people are pissed off, militant, and they’re ready to yell, rally, and do direct action to win. 

I love them so much. But I am not one of them. I really tried to be that way, maybe because I took my wedding vows too literally. I so admire Dan’s fighting spirit and unquenchable thirst for justice that when I got married I said I wanted to be more like him. But I am not a Worf. I’m a Troi. And that’s okay! Worf and Troi become great friends and even engage in a brief romance. The fighters are brave with external action. People like me are brave with emotions. It takes all kinds, and life is more than a battlefield. I’m here mainly to attend to mine and other’s feelings, not to fight. But wow do I appreciate the people who are always ready to throw down. We won’t get anywhere in this class war without them. 

“Star Trek: The Next Generation,” Paramount Pictures, 1993