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Dealing with Drugs

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Title:
Dealing with Drugs Gender, Genre, and Seriality in "The Wire" and "Weeds"
Creator:
Long, Amy
Place of Publication:
[Gainesville, Fla.]
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University of Florida
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english
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Degree:
Master's ( M.A.)
Degree Grantor:
University of Florida
Degree Disciplines:
Women's Studies
Committee Chair:
Travis, Patricia A.
Committee Members:
Babb, Florence E.
Spillane, Joseph F.
Graduation Date:
5/1/2008

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Boxes ( jstor )
Capitalism ( jstor )
Masculinity ( jstor )
Men ( jstor )
Narratives ( jstor )
News content ( jstor )
Situation comedies ( jstor )
Stringers ( jstor )
Viewers ( jstor )
Women ( jstor )
Women's Studies -- Dissertations, Academic -- UF
dealing, drug, gender, genre, hbo, masculinity, narrative, serialization, showtime, television, weeds, wire
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Women's Studies thesis, M.A.

Notes

Abstract:
Since its emergence during the formative years of modern, global capitalism in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries, drug distribution has historically worked to cement the hegemonic status of white, capitalist masculinities and marginalize those of racial/ethnic 'others.' Although historians and cultural studies scholars have explored the various ways in which discourses about illicit substances have circulated within cultures at particular historical moments, little attention has been paid to the figure of the drug dealer within fictional narratives. Here, I focus on this figure's development and his representations across a range of texts residing in what I call the 'drug dealing genre.' Typically, generic texts work to confer upon the legitimate capitalist economy the meanings that many of its adherents find lacking by emphasizing drug dealing's failure to provide its practitioners with the self-made masculinities they attempt to achieve. However, two recent television shows that center on drug dealing--HBO's The Wire (2002-2008) and Showtime's Weeds (2005-present)--significantly subvert the genre's conventions by turning its established tropes in on themselves to critique rather than validate legitimate capitalism through the lens of drug dealing. While The Wire uses depictions of its characters' masculinities to illuminate the connections that exist between licit and illicit economies, Weeds portrays its female protagonist's illicit career choice as particularly suitable to the production of an autonomous identity, thus validating drug dealing at licit capitalism's expense. Situating The Wire and Weeds within the drug dealing genre, examining their serialized structures, considering their locations on premium cable, and providing close readings of their narratives, I explore the nature and implications of both shows' generic subversions. ( en )
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In the series University of Florida Digital Collections.
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Includes vita.
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This bibliographic record is available under the Creative Commons CC0 public domain dedication. The University of Florida Libraries, as creator of this bibliographic record, has waived all rights to it worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law.
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Thesis (M.A.)--University of Florida, 2008.
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Adviser: Travis, Patricia A.
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by Amy Long

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CHAPTER 5
CONCLUSION


As we have seen, the narratives of the drug dealing genre have historically worked to

shore up white, masculine, capitalist hegemony by negatively associating dealing with

vulnerable populations-women of all stripes, men grouped into particular racial categories,

colonized or otherwise exploited nations and regions, or working-class people-in order to

naturalize the oppressive structures under which they live and the criminalization those structures

exact upon them. Particularly in the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, generic texts

construct dealers in terms of the trope of the self-made man, juxtaposing their protagonists

against men who toil at licit endeavors and using the dealers' inevitable downfalls to give to

legitimate capitalist institutions the meaning and value that so many of its adherents find lacking.

However, two recent and very different television serials-The Wire and Weeds-subvert and

transform this generic norm by turning the very tropes through which such meanings are

typically produced against themselves.

Using a metaphor of materiality, The Wire juxtaposes the masculinities of its various

protagonists-most pertinently, Avon and Stringer-to argue that legitimate capitalism's increasing

abstraction inhibits men from producing fulfilling gender identities through their work. Weeds,

on the other hand, narrates its female protagonist' s construction of a gangster identity that allows

her to both recognize her race and class privileges and defend herself against the patriarchal

forces inhibiting her construction of a rewarding identity through her illegal occupation. Drug

dealing thus appears as a particularly appropriate path toward the production of autonomous

gender identities rather than, as in most dealing narratives, an illegitimate shortcut. The Wire and

Weeds' uniquely serialized narrative structures facilitate these generic subversions, but they do









oriented, communally-based, and territorially-centered dealing praxis must also move aside to

make room for Stringer' s more individualistic and neoliberal conception of the game. However,

both men' s goals are ultimately untenable within the maze of institutions that characterize late

American capitalism.

"All in the Game": Seriality, Materiality, and Late Capitalist Masculinity

Throughout the series, Avon bases his masculinity and his dealing praxis on notions of

family, community, reputation, and-most importantly-territory. He provides economic support

to his sister, Brianna Barksdale, despite her lack of direct involvement in the organization, and

employs her son, D'Angelo. When Stringer fears that D'Angelo might turn on them after he goes

to j ail at the end of the first season, Avon does his best to convince Stringer that his nephew will

remain loyal, citing "family" as the reason.53 Additionally, when retired soldier turned children's

boxing coach Dennis "Cutty" Wise asks Avon to invest in his gym, Avon agrees. He offers Cutty

a significantly larger amount of money than he originally asked for and encourages him to "take

care of them little niggas." 54

In short, Avon-despite his somewhat brutal disposition-uses his position of power to

assist members of his family and community when such opportunities present themselves.

However, Avon's primary concerns lie in maintaining his reputation and protecting his Westside

real estate. For example, when Stringer suggests calling a (temporary and disingenuous) truce

with Omar, Avon worries about "what motherfuckers be saying while we waiting? ... Like it

ain't no thing to take my shit."" He expresses even more concern over Stringer's desire to team

up with and concede pieces of Barksdale real estate to Proposition Joe when, in the second

season, the organization loses its drug connection and must look elsewhere to procure decent

product. 56









inhibit users' abilities to participate in social and particularly capitalist reproductiono, 1o drug

dealers infiltrate capitalist economies and work within them at the same time that they operate, in

some ways, outside of their borders. Because gender distinctions and definitions are so closely

bound up with capitalist discourses and institutions, drug dealing narratives work as particularly

useful sites through which to explore the intersections of gender, race, class, sexuality and

capitalist political economy.

I have also imposed my own distinctions upon the genre. First, I will concentrate

primarily on narratives produced and released in the United States. Secondly, I obviously cannot

address every generic text and have thus had to make choices about which narratives to include

in my brief overview of the genre's history. However, in choosing I have attempted to present as

eclectic and representative a picture of the field as possible. Most fundamentally, returning to

Mittell's discussion of genres as discursive practices, the dealing genre has been profoundly

shaped by a particular set of gendered and racialized discourses about drugs, drug users, and

drug dealers that gained prominence in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. These

discourses have influenced my decisions as to which narratives to include and exclude from the

first chapter' s the narrative overview.

Thus, the exclusion of a particular narrative should not be taken to indicate that it does

not belong within the genre. Rather, the narratives on which I will focus in my first chapter are

some of the genre' s most recognizable texts and most clearly exemplify the its tendencies. In

general, dealing narratives function to confer power upon the licit capitalist institutions in which

many people live and work. Whether the narratives work to belittle and vilify certain social

groups and geographic regions by exploiting their discursive associations with illegal drugs or

serve to validate extent social inequalities by demonizing drug dealing in order to give meaning









would constitute the generic subversion that it does, even within the context of premium cable

and the post-network era. In the stories they tell, both series complicate, critique, and overturn

the gendered tropes through which drug dealing is typically represented. In doing so, The Wire

and Weeds not only challenge the conventions to which other dealing texts adhere but also shed

new light on the genre's historical and contemporary operations.

The Wire and Weeds' generic subversions help to elucidate the ways in which particular

genres' encounters with different cultural forms (such as serialized television) and moves into

new media contexts (like premium cable) facilitate the production of more complex and reflexive

narratives. Both series work within but nevertheless refuse to conform to their genre's

historically constituted conventions, and these refusals are abetted by the greater thematic and

structural freedoms offered by premium cable and serialized television. Moreover, these

subversions of the drug dealing genre serve as particularly potent examples of popular culture' s

radical possibilities.

Scholars more often criticize than celebrate the narratives that appear in such debased

contexts as television, obscuring the potentially critical or dissentious meanings such narratives

might put forth. As Jeffrey Sconce contends, "Gather a roomful of intellectuals of almost any

stripe and their one point of agreement will be that television is the sewer of national and global

culture."28 Television narratives can and often do work to reify and perpetuate the

problematically gendered, raced, class-based, and nationalistic terms in which particular subj ects

are typically discussed. However, as my analyses of The Wire and Weeds has shown, television

narratives can also reveal and expand the parameters of these discourses, opening them up to

criticisms and engendering dialogues that might eventually lead to substantive social change.









Moreover, Nancy generally works to provide for and protect not just herself and her

business but, more fundamentally, her family. One of her main fears throughout the series' run

has concerned the fate of her children should she be killed or arrested, and the bikers' target

Silas, not Nancy, for their physical attacks. While explaining the deal she made with Guillermo

to Conrad, Nancy insists that "I did what I had to do to protect my family."99 Thus, the impetus

behind her construction of and the actions that constitute her gangster identity lies at least

partially in her desire to take better care of her sons-a motivation not shared by the maj ority of

her fictional (and mostly male) dealing counterparts.

In short, after she adopts her gangster persona, Nancy's success at protecting and

providing for her family increases significantly, despite the declining amounts of time she has

available for traditional familial pursuits. However, her gangster identity cannot entirely protect

her from the dangers of the drug trade nor from those associated with suburban living, gendered

oppression, and motherhood (or, more specifically, widowhood). When Shane begins

"communicating" with his dead father, 100 the narrative reveals and provides Nancy with an

opportunity to rid herself of the last vestige of patriarchal power hanging over her head: Judah' s

lingering legacy.

The narrative never clearly prescribes a way for viewers to interpret Shane's interactions

with "Judah." On the one hand, it could simply be, as Silas contends, that Shane is fuckingg

nuts"-or, more specifically, that his invocation of his father' s memory is a response to his

mother' s increased absence from the domestic sphere, as Nancy suggests when she asks Shane

whether or not "this is you talking.""o On the other hand, the ways that characters like Nancy

and Andy react to the things that Judah purportedly has to say suggest that Shane might, in fact,

be speaking with the dead patriarch. 102 For instance, Shane tells Andy that Judah "wants to know









serialization. By drawing long-running and intricately constructed connections between its

various characters and settings, The Wire challenges the normative operations of the drug dealing

genre and-perhaps most fundamentally-the discourses through which drug dealing and

interdiction are rendered intelligible in the material world as well.

Notes


SSee, for example lan Rothkerch's "What Drugs Have Not Destroyed, the War on Them Has,"
Salon.conz, June 29, 2002 (accessed February 20, 2008); Matthew Gilbert's "Why You Should
Tap into The Wire Before the Series Taps Out," Boston.conz, January 6, 2008 (accessed February
20, 2008); Margaret Talbot' s "Stealing Life: The Crusader Behind The Wire," The New Yorker,
October 22, 2007, 150-163; and Simon's own Introduction to the show's companion book, The
Wire: Truth Be Told, ed. Raphael Alvarez (New York: Pocket Books, 2004), 2-39.

2 Brian G. Rose, "The Wire," in The Essential HBO Reader, eds. Gary R. Edgerton and Jeffrey
P. Jones (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 2008), 87.

3 See, for example, Simon's discussion of his anti-cop show ambitions in the memo he sent to
HBO in an attempt to convince them to take on the proj ect, reprinted in The Wire: Truth Be Told,
35-39.

4 Jason Mittell, "Narrative Complexity in Contemporary American Television," The Velvet Light
Trap 58 (2006): 32.

SMichael Denning, M~echanic Accents: Dinte Novels and Working-Class Culture in America,
New Ed. (London: Verso, 1998), 144.

6 Ibid, 72.

SAlthough The Wire's fourth and fifth seasons continue the subversive tradition set forth in those
that preceded them, the show's first three seasons stand as a relatively cohesive whole and
epitomize the show's overall ideological stance. While I may occasionally gesture to events that
occur in later seasons, my maj or focus is on the first, second, and third seasons.

SIn The Wire's first season, Rawls holds the rank of Maj or and commands the Homicide Unit.
By the second season, he has been promoted Criminal Investigations Division Colonel, and in
the third season he acts as Deputy Commissioner of Operations. After Burrell is forced to resign
in the fifth season, Mayor Tommy Carcetti promotes Rawls to acting Police Commissioner until
Daniels has served enough time in his new post as acting Deputy Commissioner of Operations to
take his place as Police Commissioner.

9 In the second season, Burrell becomes Police Commissioner and remains in the position until
Mayor Carcetti pushes him into resigning in the fifth season.









somewhat critical or, at times, satirical looks at suburbia, however, these novels, films, and

television shows often work-like their thematic predecessors-not to dismantle but to shore up

white, middle-class, masculine hegemony, leaving unchallenged the unequal distributions of

power on which it depends.

Such texts rely heavily on the acts of disavowal and displacement that Jurca identifies as

defining features of earlier suburban literature, portraying their white protagonists as materially

wealthy yet spiritually, culturally, and personally bankrupted by their stifling suburban milieus.

Drug dealing rarely acts as the primary lens through which suburban narratives depict this state

of affairs, but the practice has appeared in representations of suburbia from The Great Gatsby

and Babbitt (in the form of Prohibition-era bootlegging) to more recent works like American

Beauty (in which teenage pot dealer Ricky Fitts helps protagonist Lester Burnham resuscitate his

ailing white-collar masculinity and ultimately takes Lester' s place as patriarch upon his death at

the film's end, running off to New York with Lester' s daughter to start a new life as an urban

drug dealer).28

However, while these representations appear to forward critiques of white, middle-class,

suburban norms particularly by invoking rebellious economic practices like bootlegging or

drug dealing they generally carry on the ideological traditions to which Jurca refers,

reinforcing and upholding the very middle-class ideals against which their protagonists rebel. For

instance, Babbitt eventually realizes the error of his defiant ways and returns to his former life of

suburban normalcy, and American Beauty' s young couple only slightly revises the patriarchal

script to which their parents conform.29 Weeds, on the other hand, uses its female protagonist,

setting, focus on drug dealing, and unique structure to expose and critique the raced, gendered,









Although Nancy expresses clear disappointment over both men's plans, she reluctantly

accepts Peter's proposal and, to prove that she means it, invites him to dinner with her family the

next night." Family dinner does not go well. Shane and Silas rebel against Peter' s attempt to

insert himself more fully into their lives by misbehaving at the dinner table. 52 Despite Nancy's

repeated insistence that Silas stop "be[ing] a brat and get your elbows off the table," her eldest

son continues to talk back to Peter and ignores his mother' s requests.53 When Silas rudely

interrupts Peter' s apology for intruding on the family's celebration of Judah' s birthday the

previous week,54 Peter reacts violently, forcibly removing Silas' left elbow from the table.

Peter' s response to Silas' outburst bothers Nancy, but she does not reproach her "husband" until

the two climb into bed together. As Peter leans in to kiss her, Nancy pulls away from him,

quietly inquiring as to "why [he did] that thing to [Silas'] elbow."'" With that, their planned

romantic evening ends, and Nancy sends Peter home.

In short, as Peter' s fatherhood moves out of the abstracted, symbolic realm in which it

had previously existed and threatens to become a material, embodied reality (represented in the

physical reprimand he doles out to Silas as well as his presence in the Botwin home), Nancy

recoils at the threat that his patriarchal "protection" poses to her authority and her identity not

just as a mother but, more significantly, as a drug dealer. Immediately following the authoritative

assertion he exacts upon Silas, Peter similarly assumes a more active, controlling, and ultimately

sinister role in relation to Nancy, Conrad, and their illicit activities. After he listens in on a phone

conversation in which Nancy tells Conrad that Peter "just walked out my front door five minutes

ago, and I don't want him ever coming back," he disrupts their meeting at the grow house the

next day and demands that Nancy and Conrad exit the drug trade after their sale of the remaining

"MLF."5











Banash, David. "Intoxicating Class: Cocaine at the Multiplex." Postmodern Culture 12, no. 1
(2001). Google Scholar, via Muse. < https://muse-j hu-edu.1p.hscl.ufl. edu/
journals/pmc/v012/12.1 banash.html >

Bard, Mitchell. "Breaking Bad May Not be Weeds, But It Breaks Pretty Good." Another Blog .
Sonry, January 25, 2008, http://!anotherblogsorry .blogspot. com/2008/ 01/breaking-bad-
may-not-be-weeds-but-it.html .

"Bash." Weeds: Season Two. Hollywood, CA: Lions Gate Television, Inc., 2007. DVD.

Baym, Nina. "Melodramas of Beset Manhood: How Theories of American Fiction Exclude
Women Authors." American Quarterly 33, no. 2 (1981): 123-139.

Bederman, Gail. Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the
thrited States, 1880-191 7. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995.

"Bill Sussman." Weeds, first broadcast 10 September 2007 by Showtime.

Blow. Directed by Ted Demme. New York: New Line Home Video, 2001. DVD.

Bobo, Jacqueline. Black Women as Cultural Readers. New York: Columbia University Press,
1995.

Bolonik, Kera. In the Weeds: The Official Companion Book to the Hit .\hou~ nine~l Series. New
York: Simon Spotlight Entertainment/Simon & Schuster, 2007.

Bourgois, Philippe. In Search ofRespect: Selling Crack in El Barrio. Second Edition.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003.

"The Brick Dance." Weeds, first broadcast 27 August 2007 by Showtime.

Broken Blossoms. Directed by D.W. Griffith. New York: Kino Video, 2002. DVD.

Burke, Leda pseudd. of David Garnett). Dope-Darling. London: T. Werner Laurie, 1919.

Button, Katie. "Weeds Creator Happy About Illegal Downlaods." TV Scoop, Aug 8 2007,
http ://www.tvscoop.tv/2007/08/weeds creator h.htm.

Campbell, Nancy. Using Women: Gender, Drug Policy, and Social Justice. New York:
Routledge, 2000.

"Cankles." Weeds, first broadcast 22 October 2007 by Showtime.

"Cleaning Up." The Wire: The Complete First Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc., 2004.
DVD .









outside of the young protagonists' grasps not because they are drug dealers but because they are

middlemen. Thus, the fi1m points to the conditions-twenty-first century extensions of the late

nineteenth and early twentieth century economic shifts of which Bederman speaks-that inhibit

not only dealers but workers within the legitimate economy from enacting the self-made

masculinities available to declining portions of, in this case, the white male population in

particular.

However, like many drug dealing narratives that appear to offer up some sort of

resistance to dominant generic paradigms (as well as those that make no attempt to do so), fi1ms

such as Alpha Dog and Superfly fail to provide sustained, critical analyses of the political and

economic factors that make drug dealing a logical occupational choice for particular individuals

and oppressed groups. Despite fleeting and limitedly successful instances of generic resistance,

most drug dealing narratives work within, react to, or at least acknowledge the raced and

gendered parameters set by their predecessors and contemporaries. Using the figure of the self-

made man, these texts draw comparisons between drug dealing and the legitimate capitalist

economy. However, they typically do so not to point to their similarities or the unequal

distributions of power that push dealers into their illicit occupations but to deny their dealing

protagonists the opportunity to fashion fulfiling gender identities within the drug trade. Such

texts thus construct the legitimate work that dealers rej ect as the only path toward the successful

enactment of a self-made masculinity.

Resistant Strains: The FFire, Weeds, and Drug Dealing on Post-Network Television

Drug dealing narratives currently comprise two of television' s most popular and critically

acclaimed premium cable series-The Wire and Weeds-but network television is no stranger to

the dealing genre. Drug dealing takes center stage on television shows like M~iamni Vice (NBC,









wealth"42 acts as a central figure according to and against which white American men and

racialized "others" have fashioned and measured their gender identities since the nineteenth

century. As Bederman suggests, few men might enact this self-made masculinity (13), but the

figure nevertheless assumes a prominent place in middle-class men' s conceptualizations of their

gendered selves. Indeed, the figure may have been granted a greater symbolic importance as its

actual attainability declined.

Dealing narratives that, like Gatsby, employ the figure of the self-made man emphasize

the inability of their protagonists' illicit occupations to confer upon them the respectable

masculinities associated with legitimate work in a legal sector of the capitalist economy. Generic

texts of this type depict dealers as businessmen and entrepreneurs whose illegal activities

catapult them too quickly and easily to economic success and social mobility, inevitably leading

to their downfalls. These narratives thus attempt to assert a symbolic value for legitimate work in

order to counter the alienation and dissatisfaction that men experienced within legitimate

capitalist institutions (though, as we shall see, the genre's inaugural text represents this

relationship with more ambivalence than do its more recent counterparts).

Scholars rarely highlight the illegality of the occupation in which Gatsby' s titular

character toils. Rather, literary critics more frequently discuss the text in terms of the concept of

the "American dream,"43 which Maxine Greene describes as "a dream about [the] continually

new beginnings" to which every American purportedly has a right.44 Indeed, Roger L. Pearson

goes so far as to argue that Gatsby's author himself "has come to be associated with ... the

American dream more so than any other writer of the twentieth century."45 However, Gatsby's

inability to successfully enact the self-made masculinity that constitutes the realization of the

American dream relates integrally to his position as a bootlegger in the Prohibition era. His










Bourgois reminds readers that drug dealers "are not 'exotic others' operating in an

irrational netherworld;" rather, as he states, these "highly motivated, ambitious" underground

entrepreneurs "have been attracted to the rapidly-expanding, multi-billion dollar drug economy

.. precisely because they believe in Horatio Alger' s version of the American Dream."6 In Short,

recent ethnographic scholarship has focused on the ways in which actual drug dealers conceive

of themselves, how these conceptions influence their actions, and how they use their positions

within illicit economic networks to vie for the capitalist legitimacy and masculine self-assertion

that they feel they are unable to attain within licit occupations.

However, much less attention has been conferred upon the figure of the drug dealer

within Eictional narratives. The dearth of scholarly focus on this figure should not be taken to

mean that representations of drug dealers have little to tell us about our social formations and

cultural practices. On the contrary, the Eigure of the drug dealer crystallizes a host of anxieties

surrounding race, gender, class, and nationalism, particularly in terms of masculinity and its

relationship to capitalist production and/or work. Since the early twentieth century, popular

cultural texts have employed the trope of self-made, entrepreneurial masculinity (to which

Bourgois' invocation of Horatio Alger refers) in their representations of drug dealers. However,

these narratives generally obscure the dealing figure's close relationship to the discourses and

practices that confer power upon the legitimate capitalist economy and its related masculine

norms and hierarchies.

Although the actual practice of drug distribution has been closely bound to formations of

masculinity since the development of modern, global capitalism in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and

seventeenth centuries, the figure of the drug dealer proper did not emerge until the years directly

preceding the 1920s, when particular drugs-mostly opiates, cocaine, and marijuana-were









traj ectory takes on particularly gendered meanings and provides Weeds with a way to explore

and ultimately transform the conventions of the drug dealing genre and its white, masculine

biases. Tracing this traj ectory throughout the show' s run illuminates the ways in which Weeds

subverts the meanings typically associated with drug dealing narratives by depicting its

protagonist' s illegal occupation as a legitimate avenue toward a particularly gendered type of

self-fashioning.

"Mrs. Botwin's Neighborhood": Sitcom Serialization in Suburbia

Weeds generically subversive narrative, in many ways, inheres within its episodically

inverted and serialized sitcom structure, but its suburban setting adds another layer of

transgressive possibility, particularly with regard to issues of race, class, and gender. By taking

drug dealing out of the inner city and placing it within the context of a largely white, upper-

middle-class suburb, the series renders visible the assumptions on which most of its generic

predecessors rely for intelligibility. Furthermore, its setting provides Weeds with the opportunity

to satirize and critique the materialistic, legitimate capitalist values on which suburbia's

existence depends and for which it stands as a representative. In other words, by juxtaposing the

illicit economic activities embodied in its drug dealing protagonist against the legitimate

capitalist values to which its setting metonymically refers, Weeds denaturalizes and renders

suspect commonsense assumptions about both.

Weeds' creator and actors have affirmed that the show explores, as Mary-Louise Parker

(who plays Nancy) states, "the myth of suburbia ... How it seems normal and perfect, but how

that doesn't actually exist."21 The suburbs have provided American cultural producers with a

productive site from which to examine and, at times, cast suspicion upon white, middle-class

lives and values at least since the publication of Sinclair Lewis' Babbitt in 1922.22 Weeds thus










68 "(Bill Sussman" 3.5. Weeds, Showtime, September 10, 2007; "He Taught Me How to Drive-
By," 3.7. Weeds, Showtime, September 24, 2007.

69 "Grasshopper."

70 "(Bill Sussman."

n Ibid.

72 "Grasshopper."

73 "(Bill Sussman." In fact, Conrad and Heylia started the turf war. As Conrad explains to Nancy
after U-Turn dies, maybeye [Tres Ace] didn't shoot Marvin in the ass. Maybe someone else did
it to make it look like the Mexicans did it. Maybe someone did it to start a gang war and let all
them motherfuckers kill each other so that we could all be free" ("He Taught Me How to Drive-
By").

74 "Grasshopper."

75 Ibid.

76 "He Taught Me How to Drive-By."

n7 Ibid.

78Ibid.

79 Ibid.

so Ibid.

81"Risk," 3.13. Weeds, Showtime, November 5, 2007.

82 "Grasshopper."

83 "Cankles," 3.11. Weeds, Showtime, October 22, 2007. After she inexplicably befriends Peter' s
ex-wife, Valerie, Nancy-as his wife at the time of his death-receives Peter' s life insurance and
pension checks from the DEA, both of which, Valerie contends, ought to have gone to her.
Valerie thus hires a PI to investigate Nancy, and after he finds out about her drug dealing, he
shakes her down for a $50,000.

84 "The Dark Time," 3.12. Weeds, Showtime, October 29, 2007.

ssIbid.

86 "Protection."

87 Ibid.









television provides cultural producers with greater opportunities (and more time) to craft

complex and reflexive narratives than does the more finite medium of film.

The Wire's complex, argumentative, and generically subversive narrative thus derives not

only from its position on HBO and its creator's intentions but also from its intricately serialized

structure. Although each season departs, in some ways, from the thematic elements that

characterize those preceding it, the meanings these distinctive pieces of The Wire's narrative

impart work together to provide a complicated explanatory framework that ultimately comes to

bear not just on seasons to come but those that have already passed as well. Exploring the show' s

first three seasons through the lens of the drug dealing genre and its masculine tropes reveals the

ways that The Wire's elaborate seriality affects its ability to critically examine drug discourse,

late American capitalism, and their raced and gendered implications.

"Everything is Connected": The Wire, Puzzle Logic, and Generic Subversion

Despite its ideological departure from generic norms, The Wire engages many of the

same tropes through which drug dealing has typically been represented in novels and films. Most

notably, Simon explicitly positions his series in the same terms employed by narratives like The

Great Gatsby and Scarface.35 IHVOking the trope of self-made, capitalist masculinity, he

describes The Wire as being "wedged between two competing American myths."36 The first of

these myths, as he states, "tells us that in this country, if you are smarter than the next man, if

you are shrewd or frugal or visionary, if you build a better mousetrap, if you get there first with

the best idea, you will succeed beyond your wildest imagination."37

The second, which Simon describes as "a countering myth," assures those left behind by

this fantastic creation of capitalist individualism that "if you are not smarter than the next man, if

you are not clever or visionary, if you never do build a better mousetrap, then [America] holds a









Similarly, in the episode "MILF Money," Peter tells Nancy about a planned DEA raid on

Heylia's house.45 She attempts to change his mind, but her efforts prove futile. Significantly,

Peter rationalizes the bust against Nancy's obj sections by explaining that "since I'm keeping you

[under my radar], I gotta show my boss some results."46 In Other words, Nancy's arrangement

with Peter might protect her, but it increases the pressure placed upon other, less privileged

dealers who do not have or have not chosen to exercise the option of marrying a DEA agent. The

narrative thus uses its depiction of Nancy's marriage to Peter to refer metonymically not simply

to the differences that characterize the experiences of black and white dealers (and, to a lesser

extent, people in general) but also the ways in which white privilege works to produce black

oppression. As both examples illustrate, the privileges that accrue to Nancy in her marriage to

Peter necessarily work to the detriment of her black associates, to whom such privileges are

unavailable, inapplicable, and damaging.47

But Nancy's dealing increasingly strains her relationship with Peter, and as the narrative

progresses, their marriage becomes less a racial privilege for Nancy than a gendered liability.

After Nancy thwarts Peter' s bust by tipping Heylia off to the impending raid, Peter demands that

Nancy quit dealing and "be my wife," explaining that, as he states, "drug dealer's not a career".48

However, Nancy quite obviously disagrees with Peter' s assertion about her occupational choice.

To her, dealing is a career-one that she enj oys and at which she excels-and she clearly dislikes

the idea of quitting. Nancy not only attempts to defend her choice by noting that "I make more

money than you" but also immediately suggests that Peter leave after he proposes.49 But when

she confides in Conrad, he advises her to "tell him you love him. Tell him you out after this

harvest. You get your money back ... I take the equipment and disappear."so









made masculinity and drug dealing; although they do so in different ways, all ultimately put the

trope to use to argue for the value of legitimate capitalist endeavors by denying their protagonists

the opportunity to craft fulfilling masculinities through their dealing activities.

De Palma' s Scarface-a loose adaptation of Howard Hawk' s controversial 1932 film of

the same name-narrates the rise and fall of Cuban refugee turned cocaine dealer Tony Montana.

Montana quickly and stealthily moves up the ranks in Frank Lopez's Miami drug gang. He

eventually assassinates Lopez, seduces the deposed leader' s wife, and takes his place within the

Colombian drug cartel from which Lopez obtained his cocaine. Cocaine dealing allows Montana

to acquire all the trappings of upper-middle class, self-made masculinity: an attractive wife, a

large home, and an apparently fulfilling career. However, Montana' s quick ascent to kingpin

status soon presents him with a multitude of moral dilemmas that he cannot resolve within the

social strictures of the drug trade; when he purposely botches the assassination of a j ournalist

who threatened to expose the cartel to United Nations authorities, its leader Alej andro Sosa,

orders Montana' s death, sending a squad of assassins to kill him at his mansion.

In his discussion of Scarface, Banash argues that "the villain in [the film] is neither Cuba

nor cocaine, but the ... injustices and contradictions that function as the conditions of possibility

for capitalism itself."" He further contends that Montana "is punished ... only insofar as his

drugs are themselves the worst kind of exploited and alienated capital."52 However, Montana' s

death results not from his dealing per se nor from his close approximation of legitimate capitalist

achievement; rather, he dies because he attempts to reconcile drug dealing with middle-class,

familial values. Indeed, Montana does not simply refuse to kill the journalist. He chooses to

thwart Sosa's goals only upon discovering that his target is traveling with his wife and children.









drug dealing discourses and the narratives that employ and sustain them are so closely tied to

constructions of gender, race, class, nationality, and capitalism. Drug dealing narratives attempt

to negotiate the tensions produced through dealers' close approximations of capitalist self-

fashioning and the illicit products that set their economic endeavors apart from capitalist norms.

These tensions are built into the structure not only of the dealing genre but (as the above history

shows) the practices and values that its narratives represent as well.

Gender and Genre: Drug Discourses and the Prehistory of Dealing Narratives

Although drug distribution may have initially benefited gentry masculinity (and in many

ways continues to provide support for hegemonic masculinities and state institutions), 1 with the

onset of the first maj or "drug panics" in the late nineteenth century, drug distribution and drug

use quickly became discursively associated with racial/ethnic minorities and other oppressed

groups residing in, particularly, Britain and the United States. 16 Indeed, Marek Kohn argues that

"The outlawing of drugs was the consequence not of their pharmacology, but of their association

with social groups that were perceived as potentially dangerous."" In short, legal prohibitions

against drugs and their associated sensationalist discourses emerged at the moment when mind-

altering substances ceased to primarily benefit the hegemonic order and began (at least

imaginatively) to pose a threat to white, masculine, capitalist supremacy.

However, this racialized demonization of drugs was not merely a defensive strategy.

Rather, discourses that negatively associated mind-altering substances with minority groups

again allowed hegemonic masculinities and imperial powers to further cement their positions

within globalized race, gender, and class hierarchies. Drug discourses assisted in maintaining

white men's dominance over all women, men categorized into particular racial groups and social

classes, and colonized territories and populations. Although the hegemonic orders that benefited









not only move aside to make room for Stringer's new formulation but also remains vulnerable to

police scrutiny as long as contests for territory involve shootings and murders.

However, the game is predicated on-even constituted by-the notions of territory and

reputation around which Avon organizes his masculinity. These tenets may necessitate the

violence that the show's police protagonists spend their time investigating (and that results in

Avon' s initial jail sentence), but they also produce a more transparent economy in which

participants can be held accountable for their actions. Whereas, for instance, Stringer can never

be certain that the money he funnels into Davis' campaign chest will have its intended effects,

Avon can rest relatively assured that his opponents receive the messages he imparts in his turf

wars. In short, The Wire may not entirely condone Avon's approach to drug dealing, but the

narrative does value the discipline and materiality it accrues to the game.

Avon articulates this connection between his conception of the game, his masculinity,

and its relationship to notions of materiality in the episode "Moral Midgetry." When a member

of Marlo' s crew shoots Avon in the shoulder, Stringer insists that they are "past this [war]

bullshit."86 However, Avon again disagrees, asserting that "the difference between me and you"

is that "I bleed red, [and] you bleed green;" he continues, "I look at you these days and I see a

man without a country.""' He thus implies that his dealing praxis, in contrast to Stringer's,

remains rooted in the values by which the game has historically been characterized by describing

himself and his praxis in material-bodily and territorial-terms. Avon's consistent warring for

corners, resistance to making money from the sidelines, and enduring loyalty to Baltimore's

Westsides also work to reiterate the connection.

The show frequently uses this metaphor of materiality to refer metonymically to the

dwindling availability of meaningful, licit work opportunities in the United States' postindustrial,









place for you nonetheless."38 The maj ority of drug dealing narratives, as we have seen, deal most

evidently in the first myth, holding out to their protagonists the promise of unbridled economic

achievement and gendered class mobility. We can detect traces of the second myth in such

characters' inevitable declines; typical generic texts malign their dealers' occupational choices

by juxtaposing the supposedly easy, debased money they earn through their drug slinging against

the (either implied or explicitly portrayed) hard, honest work to which Simon's counter myth

alludes.

For The Wire's creator, such juxtapositions have, along with his second American myth,

lost their plausibility. As he asserts, "In Baltimore" and other rust belt cities across the United

States, "it is no longer possible to describe this as a myth ... It is, in a word, a lie."39 Simon thus

set out to create a television series that would expose and interrogate this "lie" through

depictions of "what we have left behind in our cities, and at what cost we have done so."40 In

other words, The Wire rej ects the easy answers offered by its generic predecessors and focuses

instead on investigating and subsequently debunking the assumptions that make such solutions

appear logical and preferable. Although this goal could arguably be accomplished in print or

cinematic narratives, Simon and the rest of The Wire's production team primarily realize their

intentions through the show's serial structure.

However, The Wire's version of televisual serialization works somewhat differently than

does that of its complex counterparts. In his discussion of the series, Mittell points to the "puzzle

structure" employed by "many of television's complex narratives ... to motivate viewer interest

[and] inspire] fans to watch ... with a forensic eye for details" so that they might eventually

"piece together the mysteries ... encoded within [such shows'] serial structures."41 Yet, as he

observes, "The Wire offers almost no mysteries" and instead depends upon "its focus on









however, Nancy initiates the deal. She assertively approaches Guillermo and suggests that they

make an arrangement to ensure her, her family, and her associates' freedom from shakedowns

and violence. Guillermo demands that Nancy make him a "50/50 partner" in exchange for his

"total protection;" she hesitates somewhat at the hefty price tag but decides in the end that the

sense of security is worth the cost. 8

While it could be argued that her partnership with Guillermo functions to place her once

again under the control of a patriarchal or masculine authority, Nancy's arrangement with

Guillermo differs significantly from those under which she previously lived. Rather than

acquiring a total and basically unearned debt-as she did with U-Turn-or placing herself at the

mercy of a government agent-as in her relationship with Peter-Nancy and Guillermo negotiate

an equal profit share. Moreover, Nancy explicitly frames her actions not, as she had with Peter

and U-Turn, in terms of desperation and coercion but rather states that she "bought some

protection."ss In short, Nancy can now exercise agency in her dealing practices, forming equal

partnerships and negotiating business coalitions on her own terms.

Significantly, however, the narrative does not masculinizee" Nancy after she adopts her

gangster mentality. Rather, Nancy revolutionizes the feminine scripts by which she had

previously enacted her gender identity as well as the masculine tropes through which dealing is

typically represented. By conducting her business and her personal life in accordance with the

tenets of her self-made gangster identity-becoming more agentive, forceful, and reflexive in her

dealing praxis; reconstituting her familial relationships; and taking control of her sexuality-

Nancy constructs an identity that aligns with neither hegemonic masculine nor traditional

feminine gender norms. Nancy's gangster persona is not "un-gendered," but it does represent a

significant reworking of conventional notions of gendered presentation and performance.









and jealousy ultimately result in U-Turn' s death. When U-Turn collapses while he, Marvin, and

Nancy are jogging, Marvin sends Nancy to get help and, while she is gone, suffocates U-Tumn

with his arm "for sayin' I was too stupid to be your second-in-command."7

Following U-Tumn's demise, Nancy and Conrad assume that their debts will be absolved,

but Marvin-who takes control of the drug trade in the wake of his former boss' passing-insists

that they remain under his command. Thus, even with Peter and U-Tumn out of the picture,

Nancy continues to exist under a masculine authority from whom she must once again work to

free herself. This time, however, Nancy procures her autonomy on her own rather than, as she

had previously, depending on Peter or waiting for Heylia or Marvin to do the j ob for her. Nancy

uses the power with which her new identity imbues her and the knowledge she gained in her

experience with U-Turn to negotiate a way out of her patriarchal predicament.

At U-Tumn's funeral, Marvin decides to "call a meeting" with Tres Ace to "figure

something out before we all kill each other."76 He enlists Nancy to join him, since "[n]o one

wants a dead white lady on their hands."" The next afternoon, Marvin and Nancy approach the

Chicano gangsters, whose leader, Guillermo, immediately demands the return of their "chieva"

(Spanish for heroin). Although Marvin insists-even at gunpoint-that he "don't got your chieva,"

once one of Guillermo' s associates translates for her, Nancy realizes that Guillermo is referring

to the trunk with which U-Tumn entrusted her.7

When Marvin refuses to "wipe out" Nancy and Conrad's debts in exchange for her return

of Tres Ace's heroin, Nancy uses her position as Marvin's "bitch" to convince him to comply

with her request; as she explains to Guillermo, "Marvin doesn't want me to give you your chieva

back. I want to, but I'm his bitch, so I can't."79 Faced with the prospect of death at the hands of

Tres Ace, Marvin reluctantly agrees to let Conrad and Nancy "off the hook." so Thus, Nancy









family the cornerstones of Avon' s masculinity to attain his ultimate goals of profit and

legitimacy.

In the episode "Backwash," Proposition Joe approaches Stringer at D'Angelo's funeral

and proposes that the two team up to solve their mutual problems. As he states, "You got half the

Westside coming over to [the Eastside] twice a day because Eastside dope be kicking the shit out

of Westside dope."63 And while the Barksdale organization "got the best territory and no kind of

product," Joe "got the best product but could stand a little more territory."64 Although Stringer

notes that "Avon fought real hard for them Towers" (the low-income housing proj ects at the

center of the Barksdale empire), Joe retorts that thishs shit is just business," and Stringer

eventually agrees to "talk to Avon."65 However, when he broaches the subj ect with his j ailed

partner, Avon balks and issues a resounding "no."66

Avon attempts to solve their problems by hiring Brother Mouzone to protect Barksdale

territory from Proposition Joe's Eastside crews.67 However, Stringer has already taken Joe up on

his offer without Avon's knowledge.68 Both Joe and Stringer recognize that Mouzone presents a

problem for their partnership, but, as Joe states, "a whole passel of hard-ass hitters took a go at

Brother Mouzone and ain't lived to say shit about it."69 Thus, neither Joe nor Stringer can afford

to go up against Avon's hired muscle. However, they suspect that Omar would be willing to do

so if presented with the right justification.

To this end, Joe asks Omar's friend and banker Butchie to set up a "parley" between

Omar and Stringer, suggesting that the Barksdale organization is interested in calling a truce with

the stick-up artist. During the meet, Stringer tells Omar that Brother Mouzone-and not the

soldiers sent out at his and Avon's behest-was responsible for the torture that Brandon received

before his death in the first season. He further warns Omar that Mouzone is "building a rep for









himself, and he wants you bad. The brutal shit, that' s, you know, that's his calling card."7o In

short, Stringer blames Mouzone for Brandon' s torture in hopes that Omar will redirect his

vengeance toward the hired hitman, whose death would allow Stringer and Joe to return to

business as usual without informing Avon of their plans.

These actions not only violate Avon' s territorial ethic; they also jeopardize the hard-won

Barksdale reputation. By lying to Omar and outsourcing the organization's dirty work, Stringer

departs significantly from Avon's insistence upon "do[ing] it on your name,"n and his backstage

treachery eventually catches up to him. In the second season, Omar tracks down Mouzone and

shoots him in the stomach. The hit man, however, calmly replies that his assailant "got some

wrong information," adding that whatht happened to your boy, it' s not my style."72 Realizing

that Stringer has tricked him, Omar calls an ambulance for the ailing Mouzone, who

subsequently "absolve[s]" his agreement with the Barksdale organization.73 When Stringer

relays his version of the story to his partner, Avon-as Stringer expected-reluctantly agrees to the

coalition with Proposition Joe, advising Stringer to "run it as you see fit-at least till I get

home."74

By the time Avon returns to the street in the show' s third season, the city has razed the

proj ect towers for which he fought so hard, and the game, as Cutty notes, "done changed."" In

the year between the second and third seasons, Stringer has not only shifted the organization's

emphasis from territory to product and established a coalition-the New Day Co-Operative-with

most of the city's maj or drug dealers but also begun meeting with downtown developers,

lobbyists, and corrupt Senator Clay Davis to discuss his planned condominium building.76 In

short, the game, as Stringer states, laying out its new rules during the co-op's first meeting, no

longer involves "beefing" or "drama just business."n









procedure" to generate "suspense and tension."42 Thus, Mittell contends that The Wire does not

organize itself around the same "puzzle structure" as do other complex television narratives like

Lost (ABC, 2004-present) and Heroes (NBC, 2006-present).43 Alternatively, I suggest that The

Wire does exhibit such a structure. But rather than imploring viewers to speculate about what

comes next, The Wire asks them to look backward in order to decode the tangled messages

Simon and his production team impart through their narrative.

For example, season two's shift toward the Baltimore docks seems almost illogical given

its predecessor's strict focus on the city's streets and sustained polemic against America's "war

on drugs." However, through its portrayal of, as Simon describes it, "the death of work and the

betrayal of America' s working class,"44 The Wire provides its most obvious and sustained

justification for the rampant dealing and desolate inner-city conditions depicted in earlier

episodes. More importantly, however, the dockworkers' function within the narrative integrally

relates to the ways that Stringer and Avon's gender identities correlate to particular and shifting

notions of work, capitalism, and masculinity.

In the show' s second and third seasons, the differences between Avon and Stringer' s

conceptions of "the game" (a term that both the show's dealing and police protagonists use to

describe the inner workings of and interactions between the drug trade and the police

bureaucracy)45 take center stage, with Avon still clinging to territory and Stringer insisting that

superior product and coalitions with other dealing organizations-not reputation and turf wars-

represent the wave of the future. But to fully appreciate the growing tensions between the two

men, viewers need the framework offered up in the second season's portrayal of Baltimore's

flailing working-class economy.










Simon, David. "Think Again." Booklet for ". And all the Pieces Matter ": Five Years of2~usic
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---. "Introduction." In The Wire: Truth Be Told, edited by Rafael Alvarez, 2-39. New York:
Pocket Books, 2004.

"Slapstick." The Wire: The Complete Third Season. New York: Home Box Offce, Inc., 2006.
DVD .

Smith-Shomade, Beretta E. "Narrowcasting in the New World Information Order: A Space for
the Audience?" Television and New M~edia 5, no. 1 (2004): 69-81.

Stasiewski, Daniel J. "TV Review: Weeds Season Three." BlogCritics magazine, August 9,
2007, http ://blogeritics.org/archives/2007/08/09/ 211139.php.

Steinbrink, Jeffrey. "'Boats Against the Current': Mortality and the Myth of Renewal in The
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Sternbergh, Adam. "David Milch Headlines Most Uncomfortable Panel Discussion Ever at New
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"Storm Warnings." The Wire: The Complete Second Season. New York: Home Box Offce, Inc.,
2004. DVD.

"Straight and True." The Wire: The Complete Third Season. New York: Home Box Offce, Inc.,
2006. DVD.

"Stray Rounds." The Wire: The Complete Second Season. New York: Home Box Offce, Inc.,
2006. DVD.

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Talbot, Margaret. "Stealing Life: The Crusader Behind The Wire," New Yorker, October 22,
2007.

"Time After Time." The Wire: The Complete Third Season. New York: Home Box Offce, Inc.,
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Traffic. Directed by Steven Soderbergh. Universal City, CA: Universal Studios, 2002. DVD.










12 COnnell, M~asculinities, 186.


13 See David Musto's The American Disease: The Origins ofNarcotic Control, 3rd ed. (New
York: Oxford, 1999).

14 Campesori quoted in Courtwright, Forces ofHabit, 58.

15See the introduction to Marez' s Drug Wars, 1-38.

16 In actuality, such associations are not without precedent. As reported previously, drugs
frequently supported imperialist agendas and provided justifications for particular groups of
people's low societal positions.

17 Marek Kohn, Dope Girls: The Birth of the British Drug Underground (London: Granta, 1 992),
2. Subsequent references to Kohn derive from Dope Girls and are noted parenthetically in the
text. Throughout the better part of the 1800s, few if any legal restrictions (aside from taxation)
impeded the importation and sale of narcotic drugs to and within the United States; the Harrison
Tax Act of 1914 was America' s "first maj or national anti-narcotic law ... intended to curb
recreational narcotics use and non-medical addiction" (Musto, The American Disease, x).
Britain' s only anti-drug legislation (until it expanded 1914's Defense of the Realm Act to include
prohibitions against the sale of illicit drugs) was the Poisons and Pharmacy Act of 1868, which,
Marek states, intendeddd to regulate shopkeepers rather than street hustlers" (Dope Girls, 38).

IsMary Ting Yi Lui, The Chinatown Trunk Mystery: M~urder, M~iscegenation, and Other
Dangerous Encounters in Turn-of-the-Century New York City (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 2005), 113.

19 Marez, Drug Wars, 65.

20 Ibid, 66.

21 Nancy Campbell, Using Women: Gender, Justice, and Social Policy (New York: Routledge,
2000), 73.

22 Ibid, 73 74.

23 Leda Burke (pseudonym of David Garnett), Dope-Darling (London: T. Werner Laurie, 1919).

24 Dickens quoted in Marez 67. Charles Dickens, The M~ystery ofEdwyin Drood (London:
Chapman & Hall, 1870).

25 Broken Blossoms. DVD. Directed by D.W. Griffith. (New York: Kino Video, 2002).

26 Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the
United States, 1880 -9 197 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), 12. Subsequent
references to Bederman derive from Manliness and Civilization and are noted parenthetically in
the text.









Moreover, as Curtis Marez notes in his Drug Wars: The Political Economy ofNarcotics,

Britain instituted a series of "Opium Wars" with China during the mid-eighteenth century in

hopes of "expanding the opium trade," "safeguard[ing] opium profits" and "forc[ing] the

Chinese to legalize" the drug."l In short, the drug trade did not simply come into being during

the same period in which European elites began transnationally trading with and in their colonial

subj ects. Rather, psychoactive drugs allowed traders and colonizers to profit from their overseas

adventures (through taxation, exploitative labor practices, and war) in ways that further cemented

the unequal geographic power relations that Connell identifies as central to the process of

creating and constituting hegemonic masculinities (187).

The globalized, transatlantic economy and imperialist expansion that Connell argues

facilitated the development of modern notions of gender and identity also allowed the global

drug trade to expand such that the use of psychoactive substances became integrated into the

fabric of everyday life for early modern Europeans (as well as their colonial subj ects).

Courtwright' s psychoactive revolution was predicated on the "new emphasis on individuality of

expression" that Connell identifies as a crucial factor in the emergence of the concept of

masculinity (186). Indeed, many of the same processes that produced what Connell calls the

"cultural prerequisites for the idea of masculinity itself" (186) also contributed to the expansion

of drug-related commerce. "Drug commerce and its externalities were," Courtwright argues,

"manifestations of mature capitalism's limbic turn, its increasing focus on pleasure and

emotional gratification" (4). The rationalized individuality brought about by cultural changes like

the Protestant reformation and "the spread of Renaissance secular culture"12 thus acts as an

important prerequisite for Europeans' increasing use of and trade in mind-altering drugs for

purposes of pleasure and profit.











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see Nancy succeed is "encoded" within the show' s episodically inverted, serialized sitcom

structure and its basic premise. 19

The series' format and premise thus produce a particular kind of audience engagement

that requires viewers to identify with a drug dealer who they know with relative certainty will not

be caught or punished. Rather than waiting for Nancy to fail-as might the audience of a

conventional dealing narrative-the text asks viewers to hope that she will prevail over the

various forces conspiring against her dealing success. In short, Weeds' premise and, more

importantly, its unique structure compel regular viewers to sincerely desire that Nancy continue

participating in the drug trade (if only so that they can continue watching her antics in episodes

and seasons to follow).

But to fully account for Weeds' generically subversive narrative, its use of serialization

must also be more thoroughly examined. More than simply resolving the previous episode's

cliff-hanger, each installment of Weeds further develops the show's overall narrative arc and

fleshes out the identities of its characters with increasing detail and complexity-a task also

undertaken more frequently by dramatic television serials than by situation comedies.20 Nancy

undergoes a series of trials and tribulations-the constitutive "situations" around which each

episode is organized-over the course of the Weeds' three seasons. Each of these events

ultimately affects not only Nancy's character but also the show' s overall portrayal of drug

dealing as a legitimate way to achieve a self-fashioned identity.

Through its use of sitcom serialization, Weeds allows viewers to follow Nancy's ongoing

struggles to create a fulfilling identity out of her illicit work. Rather than exhibiting the sort of

fixed or static identity associated with typical sitcom characters like Jerry Seinfeld, Nancy must

actively produce her identity through her dealing praxis. As the narrative progresses, Nancy's









weed, Guillermo suggests that perhaps "it' s a sign ... that it' s time to move on."Ilo He intimates

that perhaps Nancy could sell for him, but, although she appears intrigued by his suggestion that

she try her hand at trafficking, Nancy proclaims that she's "nobody's bitch anymore."ll

Guillermo shrugs and, just before exiting, proposes that "maybe the fire won't get [to your

house]. You could stay here forever."112 Nancy appears visibly disturbed by this image, and she

decides to take matters into her own hands.

With Guillermo's statement in mind, Nancy heads to her house and pleads with the

policemen guarding the area to allow her one last chance to visit her home, manipulating them

with a story about having left "my husband's ashes ... in there."113 However, in actuality, she

has other plans. Entering the house with a gas can in hand, Nancy pours the flammable liquid

over her furniture and floors. Just before striking a match, she again addresses her husband's

ghost, tearfully asserting that "I tried."114 Nancy's statement suggests her recognition that the

lifestyle on which she has been struggling to maintain her hold is ultimately untenable and that

the middle-class, suburban milieu in which she has heretofore existed is not conducive to the

enactment of the gangster identity she has fashioned. Furthermore, in destroying Judah' s beloved

"prefab shitbox," Nancy also casts off her dead husband' s residual authority.

Her arson thus represents the culmination of both her growing disillusionment with

suburban living and her Einal rej section of patriarchal rule. Rather than reconciling herself to the

constraints of middle-class, suburban idealism-as do other suburban protagonists like Lewis'

Babbitt-Nancy rej ects them outright. Moreover, she Einally discards the last remnant of the

patriarchal authority under which she has been living throughout the show's three seasons (and

which Shane's conversations with Judah represent). Most importantly, however, Nancy's dealing









For Avon, however, the game remains largely the same. He expresses little interest in

Stringer' s attempts at legitimacy and scoffs at his suggestion that they surrender their territory to

younger dealers. Stringer believes that he and Avon have cemented their positions firmly enough

that they can now sit back and "[1]et the young'uns worry about how to retail ... I mean, who

gives a fuck who' s standing on what corner if we taking that shit off the top?"78 Avon, however,

disagrees; as he explains, "I ain't no suit-wearing businessman like you ... I'm just a gangster, I

suppose. And I want my corners."79 Avon quickly returns to fighting for territory, starting up a

messy turf war with powerful newcomer Marlo Stanfield, while his partner negotiates with

developers, lobbyists, and politicians.

As the narrative progresses, however, Avon's "gangster" ways begin to strain Stringer's

relations with the co-op. They eventually move to cut Stringer "out of the package" unless he can

curb Avon's violent activities When Avon refuses to comply, chastising his partner for

"playing those fucking away games," Stringer calls Maj or Howard "Bunny" Colvin-the

commander of Baltimore' s Western District-and gives up the location of Avon' s wartime safe

house.8 As Stringer expected, Daniels' wiretap detail eventually uses this tip to send Avon back

to j ail for at least Hyve years on a parole violation, though not in time for Stringer to experience it;

just when he believes he has succeeded in crafting a legitimate masculinity out of his illicit

activities, Stringer's past returns to haunt him.

Mouzone and Omar reconvene in the third season's last few episodes and hatch a plan to

exact revenge upon their opponents, the Barksdale organization. But when Mouzone approaches

Avon to inquire about the previous year' s events, he realizes that Avon had been unaware of

Stringer' s backdoor dealings. Unlike Stringer (who turned his partner in to protect his singular

vision for the organization-as well as his profit margins), Avon remains true to his name and his









also both complex narratives that require some initial explication and contextualization prior to

their respective close analyses.

The Wire debuted on HBO in 2002 and is currently in its fifth and final season. The show

is an hour-long, dramatic serial that explores and critiques the sociopolitical conditions of

postmodern urbanity through the lens of drug dealing and interdiction. Its narrative centers on

the maj or players in Baltimore' s drug trade and the police who investigate them-primarily those

who were part of Lieutenant Cedric Daniels' now-defunct wiretap detail. Each new season also

introduces a new narrative angle or element in addition to continuing its dealing and police

focus. 12

As I will discuss in more detail in my chapter devoted to the series, its narrative works

with but significantly subverts the oft-used trope of self-made masculinity in order to pose

challenges to dominant discourses about drug dealing and legitimate, late American capitalism in

general. Using a "reverse puzzle structure" and a metaphor of "material masculinity," The Wire

points to the increasingly abstract nature of the legitimate economy as the displacing agent that

makes dealing a sensible occupational choice for its mostly black protagonists and inhibits men

in all areas of the economy from deriving fulfilling identities from their work.

Weeds, which debuted on Showtime in 2005 and was recently commissioned for a fourth

season, initially looks much less subversive than its more dramatic counterpart. However, it in

some ways constitutes a more total subversion of the genre's historical operations. The show

follows a suburban, widowed, mother of two as she struggles to maintain her family's upper-

middle class lifestyle by dealing marijuana. As a half-hour, single-camera situation comedy,

Weeds differs significantly from any other television show in the dealing genre. The series









why you let mom down, why you didn't take better care of all of us."103 He informs his mother

that Judah "likes the way you wear your hair now ... but he' s angry ... at all of us." 104 Thus,

Judah's "presence" acts as yet another instance of a symbolic father attempting to dismantle

Nancy's hard-won authority and rob her of the pleasure she derives from her illicit occupation.

Once again, Nancy's gangster-inflected dealing persona assists her in dismissing Judah's

residual patriarchal authority. After she talks with Shane, procures protection from Guillermo,

and explains the situation to Conrad, Nancy returns home to news of an encroaching wildfire,

which, as Andy informs her, "started in [the bikers'] grow field. Someone torched it."tos Nancy

realizes that the fire was Guillermo's (and, thus, partially her) doing, but she rebukes Silas and

Andy when they contend that they are "proud of her" and her new "gangster" wayS. 106 Nancy

instructs her family to ready themselves for evacuation and proceeds to tie up her loose ends

before accompanying them to the emergency shelter.

However, as Shane tells his mother, Judah "doesn't want to leave the house [and] I'm not

leaving if he' s not leaving."107 In convincing her son to evacuate, Nancy overtly criticizes

Judah's legacy for the first time and thus begins planning her escape from the patriarchal power

that his return represents. When Shane refuses to give up his father's ghost, Nancy decides to

play along, addressing her dead husband directly. She turns (on Shane's direction) to face Judah

and demands that he "kindly tell our son that he needs to leave because his safety is more

important than hanging out with you in this prefab shitbox you loved so well. You both need to

let it go."'os After Nancy tells Shane that "your father wants you to go," he agrees to evacuate

and ceases his communications with Judah. 109

While at the shelter, Nancy receives a call from Guillermo and rushes off to meet him.

When she expresses concern over the impending loss of her home, her customer base, and her









Western civilization acting as "the bearer of reason to a benighted world," Connell asserts that "a

cultural link between the legitimation of patriarchy and the legitimation of empire was forged"

(187).

Drug historian David Courtwright locates the emergence of a global drug trade within a

similar time period as that in which Connell places the development of masculinity-"the years

from about 1500 to 1789."1o Courtwright terms the emergent global distribution and greater

availability of mind-altering substances from those we now consider "licit" like tobacco and

caffeine to "illicit" drugs like cocaine and marijuana the "psychoactive revolution." (2). As he

states, "one of the signal events of world history, this development had its roots in the

transoceanic commerce and empire building of the early modern period" (2). Thus, much like

hegemonic masculinity, the emergence of a modern, global drug trade depended upon the new

forms of trade and travel developed during what Connell, borrowing from French historian

Fernand Braudel, terms "the long sixteenth century" (186).

Perhaps most importantly, the drug trade and drugs themselves were often integral to

imperialist expansion and the development of globalized commodity distribution systems. As

Courtwright states, "Drug taxation was the fiscal cornerstone of the modern state, and the chief

financial prop of European colonial empires" (5). Moreover, "psychoactive trade benefited

mercantile and imperial elites in ways that went beyond ordinary commercial profits," as "elites

quickly discovered that they could use drugs to control manual laborers and exploit indigenes"

(4). Courtwright cites instances of colonial elites employing opium to keep "Chinese laborers in

a state of debt and dependency" and alcohol to induce "native peoples to trade their furs, sell

their captives into slavery, and negotiate away their lands" (4).










27 Ibid, 13.


28 Lui, The Chinatown Trunk Mystery, 72. Subsequent references noted parenthetically in the
text. Lui provides more thorough discussions of these and other narratives in the second chapter
of The Chinatown Trunk Mystery, particularly pages 70-73 and in the third chapter, especially
pages 82-85. For the most part, the Chinese men who appear in such stories are unilaterally
condemned, and the same holds true for the maj ority of the white women as well. However, in
some narratives-such as the 1905 play A Night in Chinatown-the white woman in question (or
one particular white woman among several) is redeemed by marriage to or rescue by a white man
whose masculinity sufficiently aligns with hegemonic norms.

29 For discussions and examples of these texts, see Lui's The Chinatown Trunk Mystery,
particularly its first two chapters, respectively entitled "'Terra Incognita': Mapping Chinatown's
Racial and Gender Boundaries in Lower Manhattan," 17-51 and "Beyond Chinatown: Policing
Chinese American Male Mobility in New York City," 52-80.

30 For a more extensive review of such actions, see the second chapter of Lui's The Chinatown
Trunk Mystery, 52-80.

31 As Lui documents, Chinatown was home to numerous Chinese-owned business establishments
like laundries, restaurants, and shops.

32 David Musto, The American Disease: The Origins ofNarcotic Control, 3rd ed. (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1999), 6. All subsequent references to Musto derive from The
American Disease and are parenthetically noted in the text.

33 Marez, Drug Wars, 111.

34 Ibid, 100.

35 Ibid, 131.

36 Musto, The American Disease, 107.

37 Ibid, 107.

38 Woodiwiss, Michael, "Reform, Racism, and Rackets: Alcohol and Drug Prohibition in the
United States," in The Control of Drugs and Drug Users: Reason or Reaction? ed. Ross
Coomber (Amsterdam: CRC, 1998), 13.

39 Ibid, 16.

40 For example, one of the country's first sound movies, The Lights of New York, centers on
bootlegging (Burbank, CA: Warner Brothers, 1928).

41 Michael Kimmel, Manhood in America: A Cultural History (New York: Oxford, 2005), 17.









ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like especially to thank my director, Trysh Travis, for her guidance,

encouragement, and support throughout the writing process and my time at the University of

Florida as a whole. Additionally, my committee members, Florence Babb and Joseph Spillane,

deserve thanks for their participation in the proj ect and particularly for, respectively, allowing

me to work out some of the ideas presented here in here in her seminar fall 2007, Sex Love &

Globalization, and providing me with useful reference materials and guidance. I would also like

to thank LaMonda Horton Stallings for giving me the opportunity to develop substantial portions

of my chapter on The Wire in her fall 2007 seminar, Theoretical Approaches to Black Popular

Culture. In her spring 2008 seminar, History of Masculinities, Louise Newman also provided me

with valuable theoretical resources, particularly with regard to the thesis' first chapter. Mallory

Szymanski, my Women's Studies colleague, deserves acknowledgement for her role in making

the last two years enj oyable and productive, particularly during the thesis writing process. I

would also like to thank my parents for their support in all my endeavors. Lastly, my sisters,

Beverly and Cassie Long, and friends who are too numerous to name (but know who they are)

deserve special acknowledgment for giving me much needed diversions and generally putting up

with me during this busy time.









In Weeds' first and second seasons, Nancy enacts a femininity that inhibits her from

taking control over the precarious situations in which her dealing constantly places her. In the

third season, however, she inserts the newfound confidence, calm, and knowledge with which

her gangsterism imbues her into her dealing praxis and becomes better able to deal with her

business-related predicaments. For example, when Nancy gets "jacked" by a competing dealer in

season one,8s9 her exhibition of feminine vulnerability compels Conrad to come to her rescue. As

Heylia explains to Nancy, "I'm sure you didn't tell him to ... beat the tar out of [the other

dealer], but you blinked them big brown eyes, and there he go."90 However, when people like

Celia, the blackmailing PI, and the violent bikers endanger Nancy's business or her family in the

third season, she takes matters into her own hands, as we have seen.

Additionally, Nancy rej ects the patriarchal, heterosexist relationship norms to which she

had previously conformed. She spends most of the first season mourning Judah's death, and

when she marries Peter, Nancy again places herself under a masculine authority, returning to

monogamous, normative, even legally sanctioned couplehood. In the third season, Nancy rej ects

such heterosexist norms, initiating noncommittal, casual sexual relationships with Sullivan Groff

(her boss at her short-lived legitimate job)91 and, later, Conrad. 92 Both partnerships work

primarily according to Nancy's rules, desires, and whims, and the sense of necessity and relative

passivity that characterized her relationship with Peter remain absent from those she initiates

with Conrad and Sullivan.

Thus, Nancy assumes control over and asserts her agency in both her choice of partners

and in the courses the relationships will take. Moreover, Nancy's interactions with Sullivan and

Conrad defy conventional relationship definitions and categories. She and Sullivan both know

that their relationship is only sexual, and Nancy and Conrad never have a serious or definitive










narratives are, importantly, distinct from stories primarily concerning drug use or drug addiction.

Such narratives may depict dealers and/or dealing practices, just as narratives that specifically

center on drug dealing may also peripherally or even centrally feature depictions of drug use or

abuse. The difference primarily resides in drug dealing's narrative function. Illicit dealings may

appear peripheral to some generic texts-for instance, F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby or

Dennis Hopper' s 1969 film Easy Rider-but are actually integral to the texts' meaning-making

processes.

Drug novels like Irvine Welsh' s 1993 Trainspotting (as well as its American film

adaptation, released in 1996) and Hubert Selby Jr.'s 1978 Requiem for a Dream (also adapted for

the screen in 2000) may offer passing glimpses of dealers and dealing practices, but both are

ultimately more concerned with drug use and addiction than with drug dealing. As implied by the

inclusion of texts like The Great Gatsby and Easy Rider, however, drug dealing need not occupy

the page or screen at every moment. Indeed, actual instances of dealing are rarely if ever

depicted in either text. Rather, dealing works as a vital subtext that informs particular character

constructions, readers' and viewers' interpretations of the text, and the ultimate outcome of the

story itself. In other words, whereas Trainspotting's addicted characters might as well get their

heroin from any available source, the fact that Easy Rider's protagonists finance their cross-

country road trip by selling cocaine significantly impacts the film's ideological operations.9

Of course, drawing such distinctions can at times be tedious, difficult, and somewhat

arbitrary; certainly narratives about and discourses surrounding drug use cannot be so easily

separated from those that circulate about drug dealing. However, drug dealing unlike drug use

- acts as a distinct occupational or economic activity that both runs parallel to and deviates from

acceptable routes to legitimate capitalist and masculine achievement. Thus, while drug use may









production of provocative programs like The Wire and Weeds that are considered too edgy or

controversial for mainstream audiences.

However, while both The Wire and Weeds assist their home channels in constituting their

brand identities by centering their narratives on a topic that more conservative television outlets

are unwilling to touch, middle or upper-class white people are by no means these shows' only

viewers. Indeed, as Margaret Talbot observes, The Wire "has been a hit [among] people who

identify with [its] inner-city characters."l She describes "HBO message boards [that] are full of

testimonials ... suggest[ing] an affinity between 'Wire' fans and 'Wire' characters."19

Additionally, according to Brian Rose, The Wire boasts "a strong following among both cops

and criminals, who admire the show' s faithful recreation of their lives."20 The Wire also began

syndication on BET in 2007, which significantly expanded the range of viewers to which it is

available.21

Moreover, illegal downloading and media bootlegging further complicate assertions that

The Wire and Weeds are, like many of their premium cable neighbors, simply "representations of

minority groups and 'other' lifestyles that white, moneyed viewers can feel comfortable

watching."22 For example, Katie Button reports that Jenji Kohan "was pleased to see the first

four episodes of her show' s third season available illegally" on free downloading sites.23 As

Kohan explained, "I'm excited it' s out there. Showtime is great, but it does have a limited

audience."24 Talbot similarly cites the "[b]ootleg copies of [The Wire] DVDs [that] circulate

widely in the mostly black and poor neighborhoods of West Baltimore."25 In Short, premium

cable subscribers are not the only members of the viewing population who have access to either

show. Many people instead illegally download The Wire and Weeds for free or purchase the

black market copies that are available cheaply both domestically and internationally.26









Courtwright notes, these drugs were "capitalist goods in their own right" and "produced profits

for merchants and revenues for princes far greater than what they could extract from the old

regime of stale beer and hemp-seed bread" (59).

Thus, psychoactive substances were useful to the gentry for several reasons. First, they

allowed landowners to placate their peasant populations by offering them coping mechanisms

rather than actual improvements to their material lives. Second, as commercial products, drugs

(particularly those of the "soft" variety) allowed the gentry to extract even greater profits from

their agricultural workers than they might gain simply from collecting rents or selling peasants'

raw materials and manufactured goods. Most importantly, in gaining revenue from the coping

mechanisms they offered to agricultural workers in exchange for exploitative and unpleasant

working conditions, landowning men employed mind-altering substances to maintain the

hegemonic status of their own masculinities.

In other words, by keeping workers placated for a price and profit, men of the

landowning classes worked to ensure the continuation of their elevated status. Such practices not

only secured the hegemonic status of gentry masculinity but also created and sustained various

forms of subordinated and marginalized masculinities situated in opposition to their hegemonic

counterparts. Thus, drugs have been integral not just to facilitating global trade, bolstering

colonial expansion, and generating profit but also helped to further cement the supremacy of

gentry masculinity at the expense of the working masses.

The processes and practices changing conceptualizations of individual identity, new

urban centers in which commercial capitalism could flourish, imperial expansion, war out of

which modern notions of gender and identity emerged run in many ways parallel to the processes

and practices that gave birth to the globalized drug trade. Thus, it should come as no surprise that









In revealing to Daisy the illegal activities through which Gatsby made his fortune, as

Gatsby complains to narrator Nick Carraway, Tom "told her ... things in a way that ... made it

look as if I was some kind of cheap sharper" (134). Indeed, Tom consistently casts aspersions

upon Gatsby's wealth, accusing him of such things as being "a common swindler who'd have to

steal the ring he put on [Daisy's] finger" (1 19). Even before he learns of the underground origins

of Gatsby's money, Tom suspects that Gatsby is "some big bootlegger" as "[a] lot of these newly

rich people are just big bootleggers, you know" (97). Tom thus discredits Gatsby by emphasizing

his recent and illegal economic ascent. But Tom primarily balks at Gatsby's desire to accumulate

the material and moral trappings of upper-middle class masculinity-represented not only in the

bootlegger' s lavish estate but, more importantly, his attempts to re-capture Daisy's heart and take

her hand in marriage.

However, unlike nineteenth and early twentieth century narratives that employ the specter

of drug distribution to denigrate and justify the oppression of vulnerable populations, Fitzgerald

uses his depiction of Tom to subtly critique hierarchical class structures and the mechanisms

through which they are perpetuated. For example, Nick discusses Tom and Daisy in terms that

express his contempt for their secure and "careless" class position; he describes them as "careless

people [who] smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their

vast carelessness ... and let other people clean up the mess they had made" (158). He even

refuses to shake Tom's hand the last time he encounters him (157). Through Nick, Fitzgerald

depicts Tom not as the paragon of virtue he imagines himself to be but rather as an irresponsible,

entitled aristocrat whose actions ultimately result in Gatsby's demise.

By juxtaposing Gatsby's self-made (if dubiously achieved) economic success against, as

Fitzgerald puts it, "the wholesome bulkiness about [Tom's] person and ... position" (134), the









and class-based meanings that the maj ority of its counterparts-in both the drug dealing genre and

representations of suburbia-work to uphold.

Through its portrayal of drug dealing, Weeds manages to avoid the traps into which other

suburban texts fall. In Weeds, suburbia stands in for white, middle-class privilege; patriarchal

gender norms; and licit capitalist consumer culture. But rather than simply depicting middle-

class privilege and material prosperity as oppressive and malaise-inducing burdens to its

benefactors, the series forces its protagonist to acknowledge and accept responsibility for her

own complicity in the production and maintenance of the hierarchical social structures from

which she initially benefits. Moreover, as the serialized sitcom progresses, Nancy becomes

increasingly aware not just of her white, middle-class privileges but also of the ways in which

those privileges inhibit her ability to successfully fashion her dealing identity.

Nancy's position as a white, suburban mother may accord her certain privileges, but it

also presents her with specifically gendered (as well as raced and class-based) oppressions.

Unlike the mostly male protagonists of suburban-centered texts, Nancy's feminine gender

undercuts her ability to partake in the privileges conferred upon her male counterparts.

Throughout the series, she wrestles with patriarchal forces that undermine her attempts to

succeed both as a middle-class suburbanite and a drug dealer. However, through its use of sitcom

seri alization, Weeds demonstrate s the way s in whi ch Nancy's process of self-fashi oning-whi ch

eventually culminates in the gangster identity she enacts in the third season-allows her to

negotiate and maneuver within the structures that oppress her.

Thus, for Weeds, drug dealing functions to reveal to Nancy (and, in turn, to viewers) the

unequal race and class hierarchies that bolster her own privileges at the same time that it

provides her with a way to maneuver within and overcome the gendered oppressions she faces.









In short, drugs served an important ideological function in the late nineteenth and early

twentieth centuries. In much the way that the early drug trade helped to maintain distinctions

between hegemonic and subordinated masculinities and justify uneven distributions of global

power, the discourses reflected in drug-centered narratives of this period work to contain threats

to the race, class, and gender hierarchies by which U.S. society is structured. However, these late

nineteenth and early twentieth century narratives do not belong within the dealing genre proper.

Although the opium den proprietors and drug users who populate such stories resemble and set

many of the representational parameters for the fictional dealers who followed in their footsteps

after the 1920s, it was not until the Prohibition era that the dealer became a legible Eigure within

American popular culture.

By the time the U.S. government passed the Harrison Tax Act of 1914 (which sought to

more efficiently regulate the production and distribution of opiates and cocaine), Musto can

identify the "dope peddler" or "pusher" as an identifiable type.36 But until legislators instated the

Narcotic Import and Export Act in 1922 (effectively outlawing the nonmedicinal use of narcotic

drugs), physicians not street dealers bore the brunt of public scrutiny with regard to drug

distribution and increasing rates of addiction. 37 Moreover, the illicit nature of Prohibition-era

alcohol production placed bootleggers in a position similar if not identical to that currently

occupied by drug dealers, and the discourses used by reformers and government officials to

justify alcohol prohibition converge quite neatly with those employed by advocates of narcotic

prohibition.

As Michael Woodiwiss notes, the reform movements that proliferated toward the end of

the nineteenth century were "partly justified by a perceived threat to Protestant morality and

social order from newly arrived immigrants and African Americans."38 Furthermore, alcohol









CHAPTER 2
GENDER AND THE DRUG DEALING GENRE: HEGEMONIC MASCULINITY AND
CAPITALIST LEGITIMACY IN DRUG DEALING NARRATIVES

The figure of the drug dealer-with his self-made, entrepreneurial but ultimately

unsuccessful masculine identity-did not emerge fully formed in contemporary dealing films like

Scarface (1983) and Blow (2001) or even earlier archetypical texts like 7lhe Great Gatsby (1925).

Rather, the figure developed out of the close relationship that has historically existed between

drug distribution and legitimate capitalism. With the emergence of modern capitalism in the

"long sixteenth century,"' drug distribution allowed its practitioners to profit financially, exploit

indigenous and colonized populations, and ensure the hegemonic status of their own

masculinities. As drugs came to be more intricately categorized as "licit" or "illicit"

commodities, the discourses that produced their associated meanings continued to put mind-

altering substances to use in naturalizing the oppression and criminalization of particular social

groups, justifying the colonization or exploitation of certain geographic regions, and valorizing

the licit capitalist economy at the expense of its illicit counterpart.

However, by the early twentieth century, the legitimate economy's ability to provide

white, middle-class men with the autonomous and rewarding gender identities they had come to

expect from their work had decreased. The association between entrepreneurial masculinity and

the figure of the drug dealer thus emerged as one of many representational tropes through which

cultural producers could proclaim the moral and material benefits offered by legitimate work at a

time when middle-class men were experiencing those benefits' decline. Particularly as drug

economies moved underground during and following the advent and repeal of Prohibition, the

fictionalized drug dealer crystallized and subsequently ameliorated the tensions produced by

































O 2008 Amy Long









Avon's emphases on reputation and territory derive from his adherence to the rules by

which the game has historically been played. However, when Avon goes to j ail, he places

Stringer in charge of distribution (Avon' s former post) and moves Brianna into Stringer' s

previous position as the money handler. In his new position, Stringer attempts to change the rules

to which Avon remains loyal, primarily through his dealings with Proposition Joe. However, far

from saving the weakened Barksdale organization, Stringer' s coalition with Proposition Joe not

only initiates a serious rift between Stringer and Avon but ultimately results in Stringer's own

demise as well.

Stringer' s plans regarding and subsequent acceptance of Proposition Joe' s offer represent

the culmination of his earlier attempts to run the Barksdale operation like a legitimate business

and foreshadow his eventual hopes of obtaining a different kind of real estate than that with

which Avon concerns himself-namely, high-rise waterfront condominiums. Indeed, throughout

the series, Stringer tries to bring the lessons he learns in the college economics classes that

McNulty observes him attending to the street." He consistently applies market logic to the duo' s

dealings, peppers his speech with phrases like "elastic product" and "supply and demand," and

compares his dealing praxis to actions undertaken by global corporations like Ford and

WorldCom.5

When Stringer takes over the organization in Avon' s jail-induced stead, he begins

conducting meetings with soldiers and slingers in accordance with Robert 's Rules of Order, 59

downplaying the importance of turf wars, 60 and violating long-held traditions like the Sunday

truce."61 He even goes so far as to order D'Angelo' s murder when he fears that Avon's nephew

might talk, thwarting Avon's attempts to reach out to and protect his family member.62 In all

such actions, Stringer demonstrates his willingness to sacrifice territory, reputation, and even









producers with a privileged starting point from which to craft their stories. The Wire capitalizes

upon the narrative privileges associated with serialization and, indeed, further complicates its

mechanisms by forcing viewers not to, in Denning's words, "read for the ending,"6 but rather to

"read" backwards, bringing events and revelations provided in later seasons or episodes to bear

on their interpretations of earlier plot points and, most importantly, the series as a whole.

This reverse puzzle structure also renders the arguments The Wire imparts through its

narrative difficult to describe to the uninitiated. Thus, a thorough examination of the show' s

depiction of drug dealing, masculinity, and late American capitalism requires an initial

description of The Wire's basic plot. The series is currently in its fifth and final season. However,

in this chapter I primarily deal with its first, second and third seasons,' which revolve around the

attempts of Lieutenant Cedric Daniels' wiretap detail to indict the violent and elusive Barksdale

dealing organization. Thus, the following plot summary will only address events that occur

within this particular narrative arc and not those that arise in subsequent seasons.

The Wire's first season centers-to a greater extent than the show' s later seasons-on the

inner workings of both Baltimore's drug trade and its police department, particularly those units

charged with investigating drug-related activities. After Detective Jimmy McNulty incites a

minor scandal by informing a city judge of the department' s failure to investigate Avon

Barksdale, the most violent and powerful drug dealer on Baltimore's Westside, Daniels puts

together a detail comprised of Detectives Ellis Carver, Lester Freamon, Kima Greggs, Thomas

"Herc" Hauk, McNulty, Roland "Prez" Prezbylewski, and Leandor Sydnor. Daniels' wiretap

detail must constantly struggle against police higher-ups (or "bosses") like Maj or William

Rawlss and Deputy Commissioner of Operations Ervin Burrell9 to keep their cases going, as









subj ected to increasingly harsh restrictions and, in most cases, outlawed completely. The

production and distribution of illicit drugs thus moved underground, much as did that of alcohol

following Prohibition (and in roughly the same time period).

The Eigure of the drug dealer emerged from a combination of particular mind-altering

substances' newly outlawed status and the historical context in which this categorization took

place. In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, white, middle-class men's gender

identities came under increasing strain; they experienced their work as bureaucratic and

alienating, and marginalized groups challenged their supremacy on a number of fronts. Since the

late eighteenth century, popular culture has worked in many ways to reassert white, masculine

hegemony; the value of legitimate capitalist work; and the preferability of the hierarchical social

relations that capitalism creates and perpetuates,' one of which has been through the Eigure of the

drug dealer.

In this proj ect, I focus on the historical conditions of this figure's emergence and his

(and, less frequently, her) representation in novels, fi1ms, and television shows from The Great

Gatsby (1925) to my primary texts, The Wire (HBO, 2002-2008) and Weeds (Showtime, 2005-

present). I refer to the group of texts in which the figure appears as the "drug dealing genre" and

discuss it in terms of its texts' shared tropes and associations. Thus, before going on to provide

an overview of the proj ect as a whole and a brief explication of The Wire and Weeds in relation

to both the proj ect and the dealing genre, I will first discuss my conceptualization of the drug

dealing genre and genre more generally in order to better delineate the relationship between the

texts that populate the dealing genre and the discourses through which they are rendered

intelligible.










1 Although none of the characters ever explicitly state the exact period in which Judah's death
occurred, in the episode "The Punishment Light" Nancy, her sons, brother-in-law, and friends go
to Judah's unveiling (1.8. DVD. Weeds: Season One [Hollywood, CA: Lions Gate Television,
Inc., 2006]), a Jewish burial ceremony that traditionally occurs "about 11 months after the death"
("Unveiling the Marker," Hillsidentenorial. conz, 2003 [accessed February 5, 2008]).

2 Nancy and Peter fly to Las Vegas and get married in secret. They continue simply dating (as
Nancy states, their arrangement is "strictly business"), and Peter lets Nancy keep the certificate
to, as he states, "do with it what you will" ("Last Tango in Agrestic," 2.3. DVD. Weeds: Season
Two [Hollywood: Lions Gate Television, Inc., 2007]).

3 The strain derives its name from Snoop Dogg, who, in the episode "MILF Money," refers to
Nancy as a "mother I'd like to fuck" after she and Conrad bring their first crop to Conrad's
friend's recording studio, where Snoop is laying down some tracks; after he smokes the weed,
Snoop pens an impromptu rap that prominently features its name (2.8. DVD. Weeds: Season Two
[Hollywood: Lions Gate Television, Inc., 2007]).

4 See, for example, Tim Goodman, "Greatness of Weeds Could Make Showtime Must-Pay-For
Television," SFGate. conz, August 11, 2006 (accessed February 1, 2008); Goodman points to
such comparisons, stating that "People want to speculate on whether Weeds will bust [Showtime]
into the must-buy arena now dominated by HBO."

SDuring a 2005 press conference on the Winter Television Critics Association tour, Showtime's
chairman and chief executive, Matthew Blank, informed an audience of reporters that "100
percent of Showtime households have HBO [but] less than 50 percent of HBO households have
Showtime" (Blank quoted in Ed Martin, "Critics Pursue Elusive Showtime Ratings Information
at TCA; An Emotional Session with USA Network' s New Kojak," Jack hyers 2edia Village,
January 14, 2005 [accessed Feb 1, 2008]).

6 Scott Wible, "Media Advocates, Latino Citizens, and Niche Cable," Cultural Studies 18, no. 1
(2004): 49. All subsequent references noted parenthetically in the text.

SOffsay quoted in Wible, "Media Advocates," 50.

SWible, "Media Advocates," 50.

9 Kohan quoted in Cynthia Littleton, "Weeds Blows Smoke at Rules of Sitcom-dom,"
Redorbit.conz, July 31 2005 (accessed February 2, 2008).

10 Leah R. Vande Berg, "Dramedy," The Encyclopedia of Television, 1997 (accessed February 2,
2008).

11 For instance, Katie Button refers to the series as a "domestic drugs dramedy" ("Weeds Creator
Happy About Illegal Downloads," TVScoop. ty, August 8, 2007 [accessed February 2, 2008]), and
the website Televisionary terms it "a pot-fueld dramedy" ("Showtime Dreams of More Dexter,
Another Puff of Weed(s)," Televisionary. conz, November 1 1, 2006 [accessed February 2, 2008]).









elements-helps to more firmly situate the texts within the genre to which they belong. Doing so

enables a better understanding of the ways that the figure of the drug dealer has functioned

historically, how those functions have carried over into contemporary narratives, the specific

natures of The Wire and Weeds' reformulations of this figure, and the mechanisms that provide

space for these particular television shows to contest the figure's embedded associations.

Notes


SFor examples of such scholarship, see David Courtwright' s Forces ofHabit: Drugs and the
Making of the M~odern World (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001i), Curtis Marez' s
Drug Wars: The Political Economy ofNarcotics (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press,
2004), and Mary Ting Yi Lui's The Chinatown Trunk Mystery: M~urder, M~iscegenation, and
Other Dangerous Encounters in Turn-of-the-Century New York City (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 2005).

2 For examples, see Marez' s Drug Wars, Liu's The Chinatown Trunk Mystery, and Nancy
Campbell's Using Women: Gender, Justice, and Social Policy (New York: Routledge, 2000).

3 Pearson, Geoffrey and Dick Hobbs, M~iddle Market Drug Distribution (London: Home
Research Office, 2001), v.

4 Adler, Patricia, Wheeling and Dealing: An Ethnography of an Upper-Level Drug Dealing and
Smuggling Community, 2nd edition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993), vi.

SPhilippe Bourgois, In Search ofRespect: Selling Crack in El Barrio, 2nd edition (New York:
Columbia University Press, 2003), 326. For more examples of this type of scholarship, see Lisa
Maher' s Sexed Work: Gender, Race, and Resistance in a Brooklyn Drug Market (New York:
Oxford, 1996), Barbara Denton' s Dealing: Women in the Drug Economy (New South Wales:
University of New South Wales Press, 2001), Robert W. Fairlie's "Drug Dealing and Legitimate
Self-Employment," Journal of Labor Economics 20.3 (2002), and the third chapter of Steven
Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner's Freakonomics, entitled "Why Do Drug Dealers Still Live with
Their Moms?" (New York: HarperCollins 2005), 79-104.

6 Bourgois, In Search of~espect, 326.

SSee, for examples, Gail Bederman, Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender
and~ae in the United States, 1880-191 7 (Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1995), Kristin
L. Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood: How Gender Politics Provoked the Spanish
American and Philippine-American Wars (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), and
Michael Kimmel's Manhood in America: A Cultural History, 2nd ed. (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2005).









novel reveals the unevenness and inequality embedded in the very idea of self-making.

Moreover, Gatsby thus establishes two of the central tropes of the dealing genre namely, that of

setting the dealer' s illegal activities in opposition to the secure class positions of other characters

who earn their money through legitimate capitalist channels and attributing the dealer' s demise

to his illegitimate approximation of middle-class identity. However, Fitzgerald does so not in

order to justify Gatsby's death or his inability to reclaim Daisy's love but to question the notion

of self-making that undergirds the American dream Gatsby fails to achieve.

The suspect nature of Gatsby's black market fortune-positioned in opposition to Tom and

Daisy's secure and legitimate class status-points to the "double irony" that, according to

Ornstein, characterizes the novel's depiction of American idealism and entrepreneurial

masculinity. As he states, "Those who," like Nick or Daisy, "possess the necessary means lack

the will, motive, or capacity to pursue a dream," while "those with [Gatsby's] heightened

sensitivity to the promise of life have it because they are disinherited."so Dealing-or traffic in

illegal substances-thus comes to represent all that is false and impossible about hegemonic

masculine ideals and the raced and (particularly, in this case) classed hierarchies they create and

support.

Thus, although Gatsby trades in many of the same tropes through which drug discourses

have historically upheld hegemonic masculine ideals, it does so with enough reflexivity and self-

consciousness to successfully undermine at least some of the assumptions on which those tropes

rely. However, the genre's historical baggage has carried over into more recent representations

of drug dealing, and contemporary narratives are less likely to exhibit Fitzgerald's reflexivity and

extend similar societal critiques. Recent dealing films like Brian De Palma' s Scarface, Blow,

Hustle andFlow (2005), and American Gangster (2007) employ the association between self-










---. "All in the Game: The Wire, Serial Storytelling and Procedural Logic." Forthcoming in Third
Person, edited by Pat Harrigan and Noah Wardip-Fruin. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2008.

---. "Narrative Complexity in Contemporary American Television." The Velvet Light Trap 58
(2006): 29-40.

"Moral Midgetry." The Wire: The Complete Third Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc.,
2006. DVD.

Morley, David. "Active Audience Theory: Pendulums and Pitfalls." Journal of Conanunications
43, no. 4 (1993): 13-19.

"Mrs. Botwin's Neighborhood." Weeds: Season Two. Hollywood, CA: Lions Gate Television,
Inc., 2007. DVD.

"Must Find Toes." Weeds: Season Two. Hollywood, CA: Lions Gate Television, Inc., 2007.
DVD .

Musto, David. The American Disease: The Origins ofNarcotic Control. Third Edition. New
York: Oxford University Press, 1999.

Newcomb, Horace. "'This is Not Al Dente': The Sopranos and the New Meaning of
'Television.'" In Television: The Critical View (Seventh Edition), edited by Horace
Newcomb, 561-578. New York: Oxford, 2007.

Ornstein, Robert. "Scott Fitzgerald's Fable of East and West." College English 18, no. 3 (1956):
139-143.

Pearse, Emma. "Weeds: Nancy Gets a Tattoo." Vulture, November 6, 2007, http://nymag.com/
daily/entertainment/2007/11l/weeds~nancy_gets_a tattoo.html.

Pearson, Geoffrey and Dick Hobbs. Middle Market Drug Distribution. London: Home Research
Office, 2001.

Pearson, Roger L. "Gatsby: False Prophet of the American Dream." The English Journal 59, no.
5 (1970): 638-642 + 645.

"Pittsburgh." Weeds: Season Two. Hollywood, CA: Lions Gate Television, Inc., 2007. DVD.

"Port in a Storm." The Wire: The Complete Second Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc.,
2004. DVD.

"Protection." Weeds, first broadcast 12 November 2007 by Showtime.

"The Punishment Light." Weeds: Season One. Hollywood, CA: Lions Gate Television, Inc.,
2006. DVD.









and/or upper-middle class.8 As Jaramillo states, citing Jane Feuer, "'If a series appeals to (and

captures) decent numbers of an upscale demographic, large numbers of lower income viewers

are secondary."9 Jaramillo refers to this equation of "'quality' demographics with 'quality

programming'" as "pay cable chauvinism," which she contends "not only holds broadcast TV to

a different standard but also implies that pay cable consumers can handle graphic language, sex,

and violence in a more thoughtful and productive way than broadcast viewers."lo

Showtime exhibits a similar sort of "chauvinism." Gary Edgerton notes that Showtime's

corporate owner, CBS, "adopted ... aspirations for Showtime" that closely resemble those that

Time Warner (the conglomerate under which HBO operates) has for its "boutique network."l

As CBS president and CEO Leslie Moonves has stated, "there is no reason [Showtime] won't

become for CBS what HBO is for Time Warner."12 However, as the less established of the two,

Showtime bases its brand identity more firmly on its willingness to push televisual boundaries

than on the "quality" of its original series. As the channel's slogan, "No Limits," suggests,

Showtime juxtaposes itself as much against traditional network and basic cable conventions as

its premium cable competitor, HBO.

Although Scott Wible argues that part of Showtime's branding strategy consists of

"creating original series that ... target niche audiences served less often by broadcast and basic

cable networks," he recognizes that the channel also "interprets 'No Limits' to mean ... picking

edgy, sexual or violent topics" around which to organize its original series. 13 In many ways,

these two goals work in tandem with one another. Broadcast and (to a lesser extent) basic cable

networks are basically barred from airing content that is as "edgy, sexual or violent" as that

which can appear on Showtime. Thus, original series like Soul Food (2000-2004), Queer a~s Folk









dramatic moments, it sufficiently engages with the formal attributes of the situation comedy to

deserve a position within the category.

Lisa Miriam Heilbronn describes "the plot structure of situation comedy" as being "built

on the introduction of difficulty into the lives of the regular cast members."12 Although Weeds

generally bases its plots on Nancy's enduring position as a widowed mother dealing pot in the

suburbs, each episode indeed introduces a new "situation"-most of which seriously threaten

Nancy's ability to continue participating in the drug trade-into this larger context. The series

thus conforms to the sitcom's conventions by structuring each episode around the precarious

situations in which it places its lead character. However, Heilbronn further contends that, "with

very rare exceptions," sitcoms must resolve "these difficulties ... in a single half hour episode"13

- a convention to which Weeds almost never conforms.

Other recent sitcoms and the contemporary academic discussions that engage them have

challenged Heilbronn' s conception of the form' s conventions. For instance, in his discussion of

televisions expanding textual boundaries, Jeffrey Sconce notes the ways in which sitcoms like

Seinfeld (NBC, 1989-1998) and Friends (NBC, 1994-2004) balance the episodic conventions of

the form with more serialized plots like the "reluctant romance" of Rachel and Ross or the

cumulative "world building" that culminated in Seinfeld' s "meta-reflexive" season finale. 14

However, as Jason Mittell contends, the "arcs and ongoing plots" to which Sconce rightly refers

as formal innovations typically "demand little explicit knowledge from episode to episode, as

actual actions and events rarely carry across episodes."

Because such innovative sitcoms as Seinfeld, Friends, Malcolm in the M~iddle (FOX,

2000-2006), and Arrested Development (FOX, 2003-2006) do allow, as Mittell notes, "some

story lines [to] continue, while others are never referred to again," he terms this textual strategy









Rose contends that "The black drug organizations of season one are mirrored" in the

show' s port plot line "by white counterparts, extending from comically inept imitators of their

speech and dress codes to international operators who use the ports to smuggle in drug-

processing chemicals (and eastern European prostitutes)."46 Rose correctly draws attention to the

second season's focus on whiteness and the way in which the actions undertaken by the (mostly,

though not exclusively, white) dockworkers echo those performed by The Wire's black dealers.

However, he misreads this relationship as one of simple imitation; the "white counterparts" serve

as more than comic relief and transnationalized parallels. Rather, the dockworkers' plight

metonymically refers to the conditions that make drug dealing a preferable, viable, and logical

occupational decision for The Wire's black dealers.

As Rafael Alvarez explains in the show's companion book, The Wire: Truth Be Told,

Baltimore previously housed a thriving manufacturing industry that employed and sustained

many of its working-class inhabitants. Additionally, "when the economy would go soft and

things got tough at Bethlehem Steel or the Esskay meatpacking plant or even Westinghouse -

jobs were still stable around the port."47 But, as Alvarez notes, Baltimore's manufacturing

industry recently went bankrupt (129), and machinesns ... have replaced thick arms and strong

backs on the waterfront, moving more cargo more cheaply and efficiently, yet at a great loss of

jobs" (130). Although "Johns Hopkins medical system and university" has taken Beth Steel's

place as "the largest employer in the metro area," Alvarez maintains that "[for the average

Baltimorean, making beds and taking blood does not pay as well as making steel" (129).

The "death of work" and "betrayal of [the] working class" on which, Simon contends,

The Wire's second season centers48 are not new to the city's black dealers or to many of its

white, working class inhabitants. As McNulty suggests in the second season's premiere,









conversation about where their partnership might lead them. In short, her new gangster persona

allows Nancy to liberate herself not just from the passive feminine ideals to which she prescribed

in the show's first two seasons but also from the heteronormative scripts by which her sexual

relationships had previously been characterized.

Most importantly, Nancy experiences a significant shift in her relationship to

motherhood. In contrast to her first season assertion that she is "not a dealer" but "a mother,"93

Nancy owns her dealing identity by the end of the third season. In the episode, "Protection," she

proclaims her status as a drug dealer for the first time without qualifying the statement with an

appeal to her motherhood or its accompanying financial responsibilities. As she declares to

Conrad, "like it or not, I'm a drug dealer. There. I said it out loud. I'm a fucking drug dealer."94

However, Nancy does not renounce her motherhood after she comes to terms with the

occupation she has chosen. Rather, she reconciles her business with her family life by

reformulating her approach to parenting.

Several television bloggers and critics in the popular press have castigated Nancy for her

poor mothering skills.95 Because her reformulated version of mothering differs from traditional

ideas about and representations of the practice, critics and viewers may indeed have a difficult

time interpreting Nancy's new parenting style in nonpej orative ways. 96 However, she actually

integrates her family more fully into her life as she embraces her identity as a drug dealer. For

instance, Silas begins dealing for her, eventually goes to work with Conrad in the grow house

and, significantly, cares about something productive for the first time in his life.97 She also

allows Shane to assist her with protection; he installs surveillance and alarm systems in the

house, and the tiny microphone hidden inside the necklace Nancy wears to meet with the

blackmailing PI was Shane' s idea.98









dissolve "the natural boundaries between the races," not only encouraging the dreaded practice

of miscegenation but also rendering white women vulnerable to capture and sexual enslavement

(4). Dealing discourses and narratives thus provide justifications for the criminalization of

particularly racialized or ethnic masculinities, render their marginalization a function of their

immoral actions, and affirm the cultural superiority or modernity of the West in opposition to its

"uncivilized" counterparts.

Additionally, Mary Ting Yi Lui contends, speaking specifically of New York' s

Chinatown neighborhood, that discursive proclamations concerning the dangers posed to white

womanhood by opium-wielding Chinese men eventually produced calls for (and, at times, actual

instances of) legal restrictions on the movements of white women in particular geographic areas.

As she contends, "By arguing that [white] women put themselves at great risk, when venturing

into Chinatown," contemporary writers, social reformers, and government bureaucrats

"essentially called for a reassessment of women' s shifting gender roles at a particular historical

moment when white middle-class women were increasingly entering the public sphere."ls In

other words, the idea that predatory Chinese men and their boundary-blurring opium posed a

danger to white women not only worked to marginalize the men they demonized but also to

contain at least some of the "challenge from women" that Connell documents (191).

Moreover, such narratives could also serve to naturalize unequal distributions of global

power by denying the violence enacted upon colonized and otherwise exploited populations or

proclaiming the superior modernity of Western powers. In his discussion of British opium den

narratives, Marez concludes that "By making whites-especially women-the people who

ultimately pay for the opium trade, this set of narratives imaginatively inverts the hierarchical









1984-1990) and David Mills' failed drama series, Kingpin (NBC, 2003), and occupies time on

episodic cop dramas like Dragnet 1967 (NBC, 1967-1970)64 and NBC's Law/ and Order (in its

multiple incarnations). Rarely, however, has a televisual dealing narrative succeeded both

critically and commercially while resisting the dominant strains of dealing discourse. But with

the appearance of The Wire in 2002 and Weeds in 2005, the nature of drug dealing's

representation on television shifted. Both shows have achieved critical and (to greater and lesser

extents) commercial success at the same time that they significantly rework and resist their

genre's conventional operations.

Although both The Wire and Weeds acknowledge and explore the dealer's relationship to

hegemonic, self-made masculinity, they do so not in order to reflect or reproduce the

problematically gendered, raced, and class-based assumptions under which the maj ority of their

generic predecessors operate but to expose and challenge them. Their abilities to do so result

from the combined effects of authorial intent, industrial context, and their long-form, serialized

structures, as well as the narratives themselves. Unlike their generic predecessors, The Wire and

Weeds construct drug dealing as a logical, necessary, and even preferable occupational decision

for particular individuals in the face of capitalism's inherent inequalities. These televisual texts

thus provide the critical reflections that (as previously noted) other generic texts typically lack.

The Wire primarily accomplishes this through a sustained critique of late American

capitalist institutions and their accompanying discourses of race, class, and gender. Weeds, on

the other hand, uses its white female protagonist and her dysfunctional suburban milieu to

denaturalize the gendered, racialized, and class-based assumptions undergirding not only dealing

discourses and representations but the notion of self-fashioning as well. My next two chapters

focus on the sophisticated critiques these vastly different television serials impart through their










Hall, Stuart. "Encoding/Decoding." In M~edia and Cultural Studies: Key Works (Revised Edition),
edited by Meenaskhi Gigi Durham and Douglas M. Kellner, 163-173. Maiden, MA:
Blackwell, 2006.

"He Taught Me How to Drive-By." Weeds, first broadcast 24 September 2007 by Showtime.

Heilbronn, Lisa Miriam. "Domesticating Social Change: The Situation Comedy as Social
History." PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1986.

Hillside Memorial Park and Mortuary, "Unveiling the Marker," Hillside Memorial Park and
Mortuary, http://www.hill si dememori al.com/Jewi sh Mourning/UnveilingMarker. htm.

"Homecoming." The Wire: The Complete Third Sea~son. New York: Home Box Office, Inc.,
2006. DVD.

"Hot Shots." The Wire: The Complete Second Sea~son. New York: Home Box Office, Inc., 2004.
DVD .

Hustle & Flow. Directed by Craig Brewer. Hollywood, CA: Paramount, 2006. DVD.

Jaramillo, Deborah L. "The Family Racket: AOL Time Warner, HBO, The Sopranos, and the
Construction of a Quality Brand." In Television: The Critical View (Seventh Edition),
edited by Horace Newcomb, 579-594. New York: Oxford, 2007.

Jurca, Catherine. White Diaspora: The Suburb and the TMI Iemileth Centwry Novel. Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 2001.

Karlyn, Kathleen Rowe. "Too Close for Comfort: American Beauty and the Incest Motif."
Cinema Journal 44, no. 1 (2004): 69-93.

Karvounis, Niko. "Mandatory, Minimum, and Misguided." M~other Jones, February 15, 2008,
http:.//www.motherj ones.com/news_analy si s/200 8/02/mandatory-minimum-and-
misguided.html.

Kessel, George, telephone interview with author, February 27, 2008.

Kohan Jenji. "LAist Interview: Jenji Kohan, Creator of Weeds." LAist, August 6, 2007,
http:.//laist. com/2007/08/06/laist~interview_24.php.

Kohan, Jenji and David Simon. Interview. The LeonardLopate .\he~l, WNYC, October 5, 2007,
http://www.wnyc.org/ shows/lopate/episodes/2007/ 1 0/05/segments/86626.

Kohn, Marek. Dope Girls: The Birth of the British Drug Underground. London: Granta, 1992.

"Last Tango in Agrestic." Weeds: Sea~son One. Hollywood, CA: Lions Gate Television, Inc.,
2006. DVD.









CHAPTER 3
"AND ALL THE PIECES MATTER": THE WIRE' S SERIALIZED SUBVERSION OF THE
DRUG DEALING GENRE


Since The Wire's debut in 2002, its creator, David Simon, has often described the show

as a "visual novel," and critics quickly integrated this metaphor into their discussions of the

series. The term, in many ways, accurately describes The Wire's structure and pacing, thematic

scope, and ideological ambitions. The series certainly does not lend itself to cursory plot

descriptions or intermittent viewing; as Brian Rose notes, Jhe Wire [does not] make] it easy for

casual viewers to simply tune in and start watching," and "[t]he narrative moves in distinctly un-

television ways."2 However, The Wire's "un-television ways" are integral to its ability to subvert

the normative operations of the drug dealing genre, as well as those of the traditional cop show

against which Simon frequently rails.3

The show employs a unique form of televisual serialization-which I describe as a

"reverse puzzle structure" and discuss in more detail below-that gives shape to its generically

subversive narrative and allows its producers to tell stories in more complex ways than do the

maj ority of The Wire's generic counterparts. The show' s use of serialization is not

unprecedented. Many recent television programs, as Jason Mittell notes, employ some form of

serialized plotting.4 Additionally, The Wire's serialized format in some ways resembles that of

the serial stories that ran in late nineteenth century newspapers, about which Michael Denning

writes in his M~echanic Accents: Dime Novels and' Working-Class Culture in America.

Although Denning asserts that a narrative's lack of serialization "should not be taken as

simply a sign of [its] deterioratedd" complexity, he nevertheless maintains that "changes in

format halve] some effects on the fiction."' In other words, finite narratives may exhibit

complexities equal to those of their serialized counterparts, but serialization provides cultural









In order to maintain its distinctive identity (and its subscriber base), HBO sought "to

translate the reputation for quality earned by its award-winning movies into the realm of series

television, while making this distinction salient for the upper-middle-class viewers who were its

most likely subscribers."16 Television scholars like Deborah L. Jaramillo and Horace Newcomb

similarly connect this notion of "quality" to HBO's solidiaication of its brand identity. Jaramillo

contends that HBO's definition of quality emphasizes its original series' "graphic language, sex,

and violence" as well as realist, cinematic, and auterial pretensions in order to juxtapose such

offerings against the inauthentic, commercial "trash" in which its competitors trade. 1 Newcomb

further asserts that HBO's ability to brand itself in terms of the quality of its programming "is

also clearly the result of the economic value associated with 'premium' or 'subscription'

channels within the larger universe of cable offerings."l

Anderson identifies three maj or strategies by which HBO attempts to deliver on its

brand-constitutive promise of quality. First, HBO's ability to assert the superiority of its original

programming derives in part from the fact that the channel, as he states, "lavish[es] more money

on the production of its ... series than any of the broadcast networks can possibly afford" (3 5).

Second, HBO "spends more money on marketing[,] promotions[, and public relations] than any

other network" to ensure that "viewers recognize and value the signs of quality" in its original

programming (35). Most importantly for my purposes, HBO's third strategy consists of

"promot[ing] the creators of [its] series and encourag[ing] reporters to flesh out their biographies

so that the public learns to identify the artistic vision of a single creator behind each series" (36).

Thus, HBO not only provides more funds for the production and promotion of its original series

than do its network and basic cable competitors but also frames such programs in terms of

authorial vision and control.









mourns the fact that Americans no longer "build shit."93 The dockworkers' storyline acts as a

metonymic justification for the illicit economies that flourish elsewhere in the city, but it also

provides a larger framework through which Avon and Stringer's masculinities and their

relationship to The Wire's critique of late capitalism can be interpreted. Indeed, the narrative

articulates several parallels not only between Avon' s masculinity and those of the imperiled

dockworkers but also between the docks, its workers, and Stringer' s failed attempts at

legitimacy.

In the second season's first episode, Sobotka discusses his strategy for reviving the port

with fellow union members Vernon "Ott" Motley and Thomas "Horseface" Pakusa and the

leader of another union, Nat Coxson. Sobotka insists that the port' s workers would benefit most

if the unions lobbied for the state to deepen the canal through which the ships they load and

unload enter. Coxson, however, remains hesitant, reminding Sobotka of "how much money you

gonna spend to even get them talking about that shit."94 IHStead, he believes that if the unions

focused their energies on gettingn] them to rebuild the grain pier" they "might actually come

away with something."95 Further, he warns Sobotka that "if the grain pier don't get Eixed up

soon, some asshole's gonna fuck us by building condominiums all over it."96

Sobotka, however, refuses to listen and spends much of the season working with a

lobbyist, inducing politicians-through bribes, much as does Stringer-to support his effort to

dredge the canal. But when, at the season's end, the officials with whom he attempted to buy

"suction" learn that Sobotka has been arrested on several charges stemming from his

involvement with the smuggling organization, his lobbyist informs him that "[n]o one is gonna

stand with us"-on the canal or even the grain pier-"now that the FBI is on you."97 He tries to

console Sobotka by suggesting that if he can "Hind a way of putting this FBI thing to bed ... then









With her debt to U-Tumn in mind, Nancy puts the family's house up for sale, fires her

housekeeper, and begins to conduct her business more openly, at least as far as her family is

concemned.65 However, before she can sufficiently break with her oppressive setting, Nancy must

once again learn to live under and ultimately rise above a new masculine authority namely, U-

Tumn. Significantly, U-Turn' s version of masculine imposition differs markedly from those

Nancy has experienced in the past. Rather than seeking solely to exert power over or protect

Nancy, U-Tumn expresses an interest in, as he puts it, "grooming" her and preparing her to

replace Marvin as his lieutenant.6

U-Turn integrates Nancy into his operation, sending her on drug-related errands,67

teaching her "how to drive-by,"68 and generally showing her how to conduct herself like a

"thug." 69 In doing so, he forces her to cultivate and embody the confidence, control, and

autonomy she previously lacked. In her evolution from bumbling suburban weed slinger to

assertive, self-assured gangster, Nancy gains a newfound sense of confidence and strengthens her

ability to persevere in the face of the obstacles with which she is consistently presented. As she

tells Andy, "I think I am okay. I mean, stuff keeps piling on ... and while tomorrow' s another

day, I'm pretty sure something even more heinous is gonna happen to me because that just seems

to be the way it rolls. I really think I'm Einding myself."'0 She then holds out her hand to him to

display her recently acquired "nerves of steel."n

Marvin certainly notices the gradual loss of his power to Nancy. She begins to take his

place as U-Turn's exercise buddy,72 and U-Tumn trusts her-not, as he previously would have,

Marvin-to protect a trunk of heroin from the Chicano drug gang, Tres Ace, with whom he is

currently engaged in a turf war.73 U-Turn even asserts, in Marvin' s presence, that Nancy would

make a better lieutenant than the "fat fool" who currently holds the position.74 Marvin's anger










91 "The Detail," 1.2. DVD. The Wire: The Complete First Season (New York: Home Box Office,
Inc., 2004).

92 "COllateral Damage."

93 "Bad Dreams."

94 "Ebb Tide."

95 Ibid.

96 Ibid.

97 "Bad Dreams."

98 Ibid.

99 "Port in a Storm."

1oo "All Prologue."

101 "Hot Shots."

102 Ibid.

103 "(Bad Dreams."

104 Interestingly, Stringer works with the same developer-Andy Krawczyk-who, in the second
season episode "Collateral Damage," showed the commander of the Southeastern District, Stan
Valchek, a scale model of The Grainery development on which he was working.

1os "Backwash."

106 S. Craig Watkins, "Black Youth and the Ironies of Capitalism" in That 's the Joint: The Hip-
Hop Studies Reader, eds. Murray Forman and Mark Anthony Neal (New York: Routledge,
2004), 560.

107 Ibid, 560.

1os David Simon quoted in Eric Ducker, "The Left Behind," Thefader. com, December 8, 2006
(accessed March 5, 2008).











33 Rabinovitz, "Ms. Representation," 146.


34 "Fashion of the Christ," 1.4. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son One (Hollywood: Lions Gate Television,
Inc., 2006).

35 "Lude Awakening," 1.5. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son One (Hollywood: Lions Gate Television, Inc.,
2006).

36 Ibid.

37 "Dead in the Nethers."

38 "AKA The Plant," 2.4. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son Two (Hollywood: Lions Gate Television, Inc.,
2007).

39 "Mrs. Botwin's Neighborhood," 2.5. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son Two (Hollywood: Lions Gate
Television, Inc., 2007).

40 "CTush Girl Love Panic," 2.6. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son Two (Hollywood: Lions Gate Television,
Inc., 2007).

41 Ibid.

42 Ibid.

43 Ibid.

44 Ibid.

45 "MLF Money."

46 Ibid.

47 Nancy actually tips her associate off the impending raid ("Bash," 2.9. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son
Two [Hollywood: Lions Gate Television, Inc., 2007]). By the time the DEA arrives, Heylia and
her suitor, Nation of Islam practitioner Joseph Mohammed, have transformed the former dealing
operation into a "house of worship," thwarting the DEA' s plans and allowing Heylia to escape
prosecution but nearly destroying her business ("Bash"). After the raid, the DEA continues to
surveil Heylia's home and track her movements, making it all but impossible for her to carry out
her business. Indeed, she eventually takes a new job as a crossing guard for school children
("Mile Deep and a Foot Wide," 2.10. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son Two [Hollywood: Lions Gate
Television, Inc., 2007]) until Conrad reestablishes his growing ("A Pool and His Money," 3.2.
Weeds, Showtime, August 20, 2007). Thus, although Nancy warns her former dealer about the
raid, her arrangement with Peter continues to negatively impact those around her.

48 "Bash."










In his review of the third season, Daniel J. Stasiewski states that Weeds "always appeared to be a
dramedy first" ("TV Review: Weeds Season Three," BlogCritics.org, August 9, 2007 [accessed
February 2, 2008]). Kera Bolonik describes the show as "both heartrending and funny, a
dramedyy' in the truest sense" (In the Weeds: The Official Companion Book to the Hit .\hou~ mne~l
Series [New York: Simon Spotlight Entertainment/Simon & Schuster, 2007], x). However,
Cynthia Littleton refers to Weeds as a sitcom in the title of her article Weeds Blows Smoke at
Rules of Sitcom-dom" as does Jennifer Frey, who asserts that Weeds is "Not You're Garden-
Variety Sitcom" (Wa;shingtonpost.com, August 7, 2005 [accessed February 23, 2008]).

12 Lisa Miriam Heilbronn, "Domesticating Change: The Situation Comedy as Social History,"
(PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1986), 9.

13 Ibid, 9.

14 Jeffrey Sconce, "What If!: Charting Television's New Textual Boundaries," in Television
After TV: Essssssssssssssays on a M~edium in Transition, eds. Lynn Spigel and Jan Olssen (Durham: Duke
University Press, 2004), 103, 95, 107.

15 Mittell, "Narrative Complexity," 34. Subsequent references noted parenthetically in text.

16 Ibid, 34.

17 Ibid, 34.

Is This convention is best exemplified by the "cliff-hangers" that are sometimes used at the end
of Seinfeld episodes. Mittell explains that "Many episodes leave characters in untenable
situations Kramer arrested for being a pimp, Jerry running into the woods after becoming a
'wolf-man,' George stuck in an airplane restroom with a serial killer;" however, theseee
unresolved moments do not function as cliff-hangers as in serial dramas but rather as comedic
punchlines never to referenced again" ("Narrative Complexity," 34).

19 Stuart Hall, "Encoding/Decoding," in M~edia and Cultural Studies: Key Works, Revised
Edition, eds. Meenakshi Gigi Durham and Douglas M. Kellner (Malden, MA: Blackwell
Publishing, 2006), 164.

20 Mittell, "Narrative Complexity," 34.

21 QUOted in "Going to Pot? Far From It," Times Online, October 9, 2005 (accessed February 23,
2008). Additionally, Kohan states that she "set [Weeds] in suburbia because I was fascinated
with the suburbs my mother always said all the interesting stories are in the valley" (quoted in
Bolonik, In the Weeds, 1), and Elizabeth Perkins (who portrays Celia Hodes) says of her
character, "She is very much a metaphor for the world she lives in, this false, prefab society that
is springing up in America" ("Going to Pot").

22 Sinclair Lewis, Babbitt, 10th printing (New York: The New American Library, 1961).









middle-class white men's declining abilities to derive masculine satisfaction from their

legitimate occupations.

Beginning with The Great Gatsby, many texts residing within the dealing genre depict

drug dealers as unable to realize their gendered entrepreneurial ambitions through their illicit

economic endeavors. In order to do so, however, such generic texts must ignore the historical

and contemporary connections between drug distribution and legitimate capitalism. In his review

of Traffic (2000) and Blow, David Banash argues that Brian De Palma's 1983 remake of

Scarface "explores the ways in which the gangster is the ultimate representative of capitalism

itself."2 He argues that the film proclaims that "there is no difference between legal capitalism

and the drug trade; both are exploitative and destructive."3 In mOst narratives that either attempt

or never intend to make such an assertion, however, drug dealing more frequently than not

appears as a dirty, debased form of capitalism that legitimates the legal capitalism (and its related

masculine identities) against which it is juxtaposed.

Rather than products or producers of licit capitalism' s inbuilt inequalities, drug

economies become mirrors that reflect the worst components of legal capitalism, deflecting

blame from capitalism itself and displacing it onto those who feel compelled to engage in drug

dealing because they have few alternative options. The gangster, in other words, and not the

system to which he metonymically refers, becomes the culprit rather than the victim. In short,

narratives of the dealing genre typically obscure the historical relationships and experiential

similarities that exist between drug dealing and the legitimate capitalist economy and instead

depict licit capitalism as the only way in which men can produce and enact successful, self-made

masculinities. Thus, in order to better understand the genre and the significance of The Wire and

Weeds' departures from its norms, I will briefly discuss the historical relationship between drug









and financial dependence on Nancy render him unthreatening to her authority) and liberate

herself from the patriarchal oppressions they represent.

Weeds further expands Rabinovitz' s conception of the feminist sitcom by refusing to

obscure the race and class-based privileges upon which its white, middle-class protagonist's

position depends. In its portrayals of Nancy's black dealing associates-primarily Heylia, her

daughter Vaneeta, and Conrad-Weeds not only points to the specific oppressions endured by

black dealers and people in general but also emphasizes the ways in which the privileges

conferred upon whites work to create and perpetuate the oppressions experienced by people of

color. This racialized expansion of feminist sitcom conventions also constitutes a substantial

subversion of the conventions of the dealing genre, which, as noted in chapter one, generally

work to naturalize nonwhite peoples' subordinated social positions.

In its earliest instances, Weeds accomplishes this feat simply by gesturing toward the

differences that characterize white and black experiences. For example, when a freight plane

carrying bottles of Coca-Cola crashes into Nancy's neighbor and sometimes-nemesis Celia

Hodes' house,34 Nancy relays the story to Heylia, Vaneeta, and Conrad on her next supply run.

The tale does not impress Heylia, who scoffs at Nancy's assertion that "they could have been

killed," assuring her that "that white girl gonna make out like Haliburton."35 The narrative

further emphasizes this point when, minutes later, bullets-not Coke bottles-come shooting

through the James' windows; as Heylia quips, "white folks get soda pop; niggas get bullets."36

Later, when Nancy starts up a front bakery, Conrad, speaking of Heylia' s experiences, remarks

that "banks ... will only give loans to white dealers."37 In Short, the show' s black characters

make frequent though fleeting references to the discrepancies that characterize their positions in

contrast to Nancy's.









distribution, capitalism, and formations of masculinity; examine the genre' s discursive

prehistory; and provide close readings of several generic texts.

Gendered Expansion: Hegemonic Masculinity and the Emergence of Global Drug Markets

Drug dealing narratives and discourses frequently exhibit anxieties about and negotiate

relationships between hegemonic and subordinated, marginalized, or deviant masculinities. R.W.

Connell and James Messerschmidt, in their 2005 "rethinking" of the concept of hegemonic

masculinity,4 define the term as "the pattern of practice ... that allows] men's dominance over

women to continue."' They contend that hegemonic masculinity is distinct from other iterations

of masculinity, "particularly subordinated masculinities" (832). Furthermore, the practices and

attributes that constitute hegemonic masculinity cannot, according to the authors, "be considered

normal in the statistical sense; only a minority of men might enact" them (832). Rather, as the

"normative" mode of masculine performance, hegemonic masculinity "embodie[s] the currently

honored way of being a man, it requires] all other men to position themselves in relation to it,

and it ideologically legitimate[s] the global subordination of women to men" (832).

Moreover, the concept of hegemonic masculinity, as historian John Tosh observes, relies

on Gramsci's notion of "hegemony," which "refers to a domination [that] goes beyond the

exercise of brute force or legal power because it has become embedded in the culture; it

amounts to the sense of reality by which most people in society order their perceptions."6 Thus,

as both Tosh and Connell recognize, popular culture and textual representations are integral to

the ways in which particular masculinities come to dominate the vast horizon of masculine

possibilities at certain moments in history.' The concept of hegemony, according to Connell and

Messerschimdt, also allows for an "element of optimism in an otherwise bleak territory" (833).

The authors argue that the concept usefully assumes[] that gender relations [are] historical, so










REFERENCES


"A.K.A. The Plant." Weeds: Season Two. Hollywood, CA: Lions Gate Television, Inc. DVD.

"A Pool and His Money." Weeds, first broadcast 20 August 2007 by Showtime.

"About the Drug War Reform Coordination Network." Susthe ago arr~(1 15' "org. DRCNet. 26 Feb
2008. < http://stopthedrugwar. org/about>

Abu-Lughod, Lila. Dramas ofNationhood: The Politics of Television in Egypt. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 2004.

Acham, Christine. Revohition Televised: Printetinze and the Straglne lfor Blachiess. Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 2004.

Adler, Patricia. TThee~ling5 and Dealing: An Ethnography of an Upper-Level Drug Dealing and
Smuggling Conanunity. Second Edition. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

"All Prologue." The Wire: The Complete Second Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc.,
2004. DVD.

Alpha Dog. Directed by Nick Cassavetes. Universal City, CA: Universal Pictures, 2006. DVD.

Alvarez, Rafael. "Season Two Overview." In The Wire: Truth Be Told, edited by Rafael Alvarez,
125-132. New York: Pocket Books, 2004.

American Beauty. Directed by Sam Mendes. Glendale, CA: Dreamworks, 1999. DVD.

American Gangster. Directed by Ridley Scott. Universal City, CA: Universal Studios, 2008.
DVD .

"Amsterdam." The Wire: The Complete Third Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc., 2006.
DVD .

Anderson, Christopher. "Producing an Aristocracy of Culture in American Television." In The
Essential HBO Reader, edited by Gary R. Edgerton and Jeffery P. Jones, 23-41.
Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 2008.

Ang, len. Watching Dallas: Soap Opera and the M~elodramatic Imagination. New Y ork:
Routledge, 1987.

"Backwash." The Wire: The Complete Second Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc., 2004.
DVD .

"Bad Dreams." The Wire: The Complete Second Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc.,
2004. DVD.









(2000-2005), The L Word (2004-present) and, of course, Weeds can target niche audiences at the

same time that they accomplish the boundary pushing that constitutes Showtime's brand identity.

However, Showtime's premium status-much like HBO's-places limits upon the degree

to which low-income populations can access its programming. Thus, both channels target a

particular audience niche, which Jaramillo describes as "young, urban adults from 18 to 34."14

Wible expands this conception of the niche audiences toward which premium cable channels

orient themselves, stating that Showtime's "No Limits" maxim partially requires producing

"representations of minority groups and 'other' lifestyles that white, moneyed viewers can feel

comfortable watching."" Put more simply, as Adam Sternbergh reports, paraphrasing Deadwood

(HBO, 2004-2006) creator David Milch's argument against the dichotomous terms in which

cable and network television are typically discussed, "everyone's selling something: .. on

[premium cable], it's upper-middle class values."16

The existence and success of The Wire and Weeds can thus be partially attributed to the

conditions that characterize the post-network era, of which HBO and Showtime are and were

both symptomatic and productive. In other words, as the cable universe became increasingly

crowded in the late 1990s, premium channels had to work harder to compete, and they

concentrated much of their efforts on the production of original series that had no place on the

traditional networks nor, at the time, on basic cable. 1 As programming executives were forced

to lower their expectations as to what constitutes a high ratings share, niche audiences

(particularly those of the young professional variety) became more valuable than the broader

demographics to which broadcast networks have historically catered. Increased competition, a

greater focus on original series, and shifting conceptions of ratings thus create space for the










presence on the waterfront, financially assists struggling union members, and demonstrates a

willingness to, as Avon puts it, "pay the cost" on behalf of the union men that he intended to help

through his ultimately fatal involvement with the smuggling operation. Most importantly,

however, both Sobotka and Avon remain invested in a type of work (and its corresponding

gender identity) that no longer offers a viable path toward successful masculine self-fashioning.

Oddly enough, high-rise condominium developments play a maj or role in the demise of

Avon' s street-centered approach to dealing and in Sobotka' s unsuccessful attempts to maintain

his family and community's working-class lifestyles. As mentioned previously, the final

moments of The Wire's second season reveal to viewers that developers are turning the grain pier

in which Sobotka and Coxson had placed their hopes into condominiums-much like those on

which Stringer concentrates for the maj ority of the third season. 104 The narrative thus suggests

connections between Stringer' s attempts to change the rules of Baltimore' s drug trade and the

postindustrial capitalist milieu that damns both the dockworkers' and Avon's self-made, material

masculinities to extinction.

Indeed, Avon' s downfall runs relatively parallel to that of the dockworkers. Similarly to

the ways in which technologies like robotic armslos displace and render obsolete the

dockworkers' material, corporeal labor, Avon's territorially-based approach to dealing must

move aside to make room for the more profitable and efficient version of drug dealing that

Stringer proposes. Stringer' s vision for the organization, however, entails its participation in the

very processes that undermine the ability of Alvarez' s "average Baltimorean" (and young

dockworkers like Nick Sobotka) to participate in and benefit from legitimate capitalist

institutions.









friend. He reveals Stringer' s plans for the following day only when Mouzone refuses his offer to

"pay the cost" on his partner's behalf.8s2 Indeed, the game' s tenets necessitate that Avon provide

this information to avoid tarnishing, as Brother Mouzone states, "your word and your

reputation."83

Thus, when Stringer arrives at his half-finished condominium building for a meeting with

his developer the next morning, Omar and Mouzone already have the place staked out. After the

gun-toting gangsters shoot and kill Stringer' s bodyguard and catch up to their fleeing opponent,

Stringer implores them to accept money as payback for the wrongs he committed against them,

declaring that he "ain't involved in that gangster bullshit no more."84 Omar, however, contends

that Stringer "still don't get it, do you? This ain't about your money, bro."s Rather, Stringer' s

death results from his attempts to subvert the rules by which the game has historically been

played (and to which characters like Omar and Brother Mouzone remain resolutely true) in order

to achieve a legitimate, capitalist masculinity that runs counter to the kind of gendered

articulations that (like Avon's) have currency on the street.

While the narrative clearly sympathizes with Avon, however, it neither uncritically

celebrates his actions nor unilaterally condemns Stringer' s. Rather, each man' s demise results

from the flawed institutions within which he operates (or to which, in Stringer' s case, he is

struggling to gain access). Although The Wire emphasizes the corruption endemic to the new

game that Stringer attempts to play, it does not ignore the negative components-primarily

violence-of the more traditional game to which Avon remains loyal. In many ways, Stringer' s

reformulation of the game produces positive changes: less murder, less police interference, and

more profit. Additionally, the narrative depicts Avon's masculinity as equally unviable. It must









Lucas' downfall begins when he disregards the boundaries between legitimate and illegitimate

gender, race, and class positions.

Although the maj ority of dealing narratives have historically worked to valorize

legitimate capitalism and its associated masculinities by denigrating those associated with the

drug trade, there are several generic texts that either disregard the trope of self-making altogether

or put it to use to subvert the genre' s normative operations. Narratives of the first sort tend to

ignore the Eigure of the self-made dealer and instead continue the racist and imperialist

ideological trajectories set by the older drug discourses discussed above. For example, Maria

Full of Grace (2004) works in much the same way as did Broken Blossoms nearly a century

earlier. After pregnant rose factory worker Maria Alvarez decides to trade in her low-paying job

in Colombia for a stint as a transnational drug mule for a trafficking organization, she witnesses

the drug trade's brutality first hand.60

Thus, rather than returning to poverty-stricken Colombia and her dangerous trafficking

employers at the fi1m's end, Maria decides to stay in the United States to raise her unborn child.

The fi1m not only depicts her decision as redemptive but also constructs North America in direct

opposition to its South American counterpart; in contrast to the incorrigibly impoverished

Colombia, the United States appears as the land of opportunity, safety, and freedom. Maria's

body thus acts-like those of the innocent young white women who populate nineteenth and

earlier twentieth century narratives-as a screen upon which to negotiate the tensions between a

brutally backwards Colombia and the properly modern United States, with the West ultimately

coming out on top.

Similarly, Traffic uses the white body of Drug Czar Robert Wakefield' s young adult

daughter to demonstrate the resultant horrors of the transnational drug trade and thus justify the









to legitimate occupational activities, they generally do so through particular masculine tropes -

primarily that of the failed self-made man.

Project Overview: The Wire, Weeds, and the Drug Dealing Genre

This proj ect is divided into three chapters, the first of which examines the history of drug

distribution and its association with formations of masculinity over time. Additionally, chapter

one provides a brief overview of the dealing genre' s discursive prehistory, the ways in which

these discourses were used to control and inhibit primarily nonwhite men and white women's

mobility and participation in legitimate capitalist endeavors, and the early narratives in which

such discourses circulated. However, the chapter' s maj or emphasis is on contemporary cinematic

narratives and their literary post-Prohibition predecessors.

Using readings of The Great Gatsby, Brian De Palma' s Scarface (1983), Blow (2001),

Hustle & Flow (2005), and American Gangster (2007), I discuss the ways in which dealing

narratives employ the figure of the self-made man to positively evaluate and give meaning to the

legitimate capitalist economy by depicting drug dealers' masculinities as deviant, illegitimate,

and dangerous to the social body. Dealing narratives perform this task in a variety of ways, but

all draw a clear and impermeable distinction between licit and illicit economic spheres and

juxtapose them against one another, valorizing legitimate capitalism at drug dealing's (and drug

dealers') expense.

The proj ect' s next two chapters consist of close readings of The Wire and Weeds through

the lens of the dealing genre and its masculine tropes. Both series employ their uniquely

serialized structures 1 to examine, critique, and/or transform the traditional conventions of the

genre to which they belong. Both arise out of particular industrial conditions and are produced by

creators and writers who have strong views regarding the United States' approach to drug

interdiction and specific visions for their shows' contents and meanings. The Wire and Weeds are









Before he realizes that the journalist is not alone, a coked-up Montana insists that "I don't

care where you blow him up; just tell me when, okay? You just tell me when. That' s all I care

about."53 However, when he spies the journalist picking his family up from their apartment,

Montana tells his fellow assassins to "[forget it. We kill this guy alone. No wife. No kids."

Importantly, this scene immediately follows Montana' s first expressions of dissatisfaction with

drugs and the drug trade. "This what I work for?" he asks his associate, Manny, before lamenting

that he has "got a fucking junkie for a wife" whose "womb is so polluted" that he "can't even

have a kid with her." Thus, Montana' s occupation may allow him to accumulate the material

signs of entrepreneurial masculinity-a sports car, a mansion-but it prevents him from attaining

another important marker of full masculine status: fatherhood.

Montana' s disenchantment with his illegal occupation culminates in his subsequent

refusal to "blow up" the journalist' s family, which ultimately brings about his own assassination.

Thus, rather than pointing to the similarities that characterize legitimate capitalist work and drug

dealing, Scarface distinguishes dealing from licit economic endeavors by pointing to its moral

deficiencies. Drug dealing, the narrative implies, may confer upon its practitioners the material

wealth they are less likely to gain through licit employment, but it cannot provide them with the

moral wealth associated with masculinities produced through legitimate, honest work. Indeed,

Montana' s occupation not only prohibits him from becoming a father but also results in the death

of his sister and most beloved family member, Gina.

In other words, whereas, according to Banash, Scarface asserts that "there is no

difference between legal capitalism and the drug trade,"54 the film's somewhat peripheral though

ideologically significant focus on family belies this explanation. In much the way that Gatsby's

dealing thwarts his attempt to win Daisy's heart and thus establish the nuclear household










SHorace Newcomb, '"This is Not Al Dente': The Sopranos and the New Meaning of
'Television'" in Television: The Critical View 7th ed., ed. Horace Newcomb (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2007), 573.

SFor a more thorough discussion of the racial disparities that characterize cable (and particularly
premium cable) viewing, see Beretta E. Smith-Shomade's "Narrowcasting in the New World
Information Order: A Space for the Audience?" Television andNew M~edia 5, no. 1 (2004): 69 -
81. Additionally, Christine Acham discusses the issue in the conclusion of her Revolution
Televised: Television and the StrCflne l~for Blackness (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 2004), 170 194.

9 Jaramillo, "The Family Racket," 585.

10 Ibid, 585.

"1 Gary R. Edgerton, "A Brief History of HBO," in The Essential HBO Reader, eds. Gary R.
Edgerton and Jeffrey P. Jones (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 2008), 15. Subsequent
references noted parenthetically.

12 Moonves quoted in Edgerton, "A Brief History of HBO," 15-16.

13 Scott Wible, "Media Advocates, Latino Citizens, and Niche Cable," Cultural Studies 18, no. 1
(2004): 50.

14 Jaramillo, "The Family Racket," 585.

15 Wible, "Media Advocates," 50.

16 Adam Sternbergh, "David Milch Headlines Most Uncomfortable Panel Discussion Ever at
New Yorker Fest," Nymag. com, October 9, 2007 (accessed February 26, 2008). Jenji Kohan,
David Simon, Battlestar Galactica' s Ronald D. Moore, and House's David Shore also served on
the panel, at which they discussed the differences between making television for premium or
basic cable and broadcast networks.

17 Edgerton contends that "the aftereffects of [HBO]'s shows were clearly evident in the
programming and branding strategies of not only FX and Fox, but also Showtime ..., the USA
Network ..., TNT ..., and even ABC" ("A Brief History of HBO,"l3). In other words, having
witnessed the success of HBO's "ground-breaking" programs, other cable and even broadcast
networks were forced and afforded the opportunity to, in Edgerton's words, "consider what they
might learn from HBO" (16).

IsMargaret Talbot, "Stealing Life: The Crusader Behind The Wire," The New Yorker, October
22, 2007, 154.

19 Ibid, 154. Talbot goes on to reprint several notable comments, such as one poster' s assertion
that "My favorite character is Michael because his character and me are the same I was raised in
the street and had to take care of me and my people that's why alot of people call me street and











102 Additionally, Shane first acknowledges Judah's "presence" after the alarm system he installed
goes off and he successfully discerns that there has been no security breach. Viewers could read
the system' s activation as a consequence of Judah' s ghostly entry into the Botwin home
("Ri sk").
103 "Protection."

104 Ibid.

1os Ibid.

106 "(Go," 3.15. Weeds, Showtime, November 19, 2007.

107 Ibid.

1os Ibid.

109 Ibid.

110 Ibid.

111 Ibid.

112 Ibid.

113 Ibid.

114 Ibid.


"'5 Rabinovitz, "(Ms. Representation," 245


247.


116 "Showtime Grows Another Season of Weeds," Zap2it. com, November 5, 2007 (accessed
February 12, 2008).

117 "(Go." At the start of the third season, Conrad was growing in a warehouse paid for by Heylia
("The Brick Dance"). However, faced with the threat of a fire inspection, Conrad had to move
his operation; Nancy-the crop's only investor-convinced Celia to allow them to grow in a house
that Sullivan (with whom Celia had also been intimate) had given her after she separated from
Dean ("The Dark Time;" "Bill Sussman"). Because the house was under the name of a dummy
corporation, Celia assumed that she would not be held responsible if authorities discovered the
marijuana plants.










neither man looks favorably upon the sprawling wiretap investigations at which Daniels' detail

excels.

However, the more important group of characters for my purposes work not within

Baltimore's police department but Avon Barksdale's drug dealing gang. The Barksdale

organization-of which Avon serves as head-consists primarily of Russell "Stringer" Bell,

Avon's business-minded second-in-command, and D'Angelo Barksdale, Avon's nephew, who

runs the organization' s low-rise proj ect territory (dubbed "The Pit"). During the first season, the

Barksdales' ownership of the Westside remains relatively uncontested, with the exception of its

dealers' frequent victimization by Omar Little-a stick-up artist who, as he puts it, "robs drug

dealers" for a living-particularly after Omar discovers that the organization was responsible for

the torture and murder of his boyfriend, Brandon.

Throughout the season, The Wire's police protagonists attempt to indict Avon for a series

of murders (though his dealing activities also attract their attention) committed by Barksdale

soldiers as Avon's behest. By the season's end, both Avon and D'Angelo have landed

themselves in jail, with Avon taking a light sentence for drug-related activities and D'Angelo

receiving 20 years of incarceration on charges stemming from the interstate drug-run on which

police caught him. Thus, in The Wire's second season, Stringer takes Avon's place as the

organization's leader and begins to shift its emphasis from territory-Avon's primary concern-to

product (or, more specifically, procuring higher-quality drugs).

To this end, Stringer teams up, against Avon's wishes, with Eastside dealer Proposition

Joe Stewart, who promises Stringer access to his purer product in exchange for a portion of the

Barksdale "real estate" (a term the show' s dealers use to refer to the corners and proj ect

buildings on and in which they sell drugs). Unaware that Stringer has given Joe's crews











Rabinovitz, Lauren. "Ms. Representation: The Politics of Feminist Sitcoms." In Television,
History, and American Culture: Feminist Critical Essssssssssssssays, edited by Mary Beth
Haralovich and Laura Rabinovitz, 144-167. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1999.

"Reformation." The Wire: The Complete Third Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc.,
2006. DVD.

"Release the Hounds." Weeds, first broadcast 8 October 2007 by Showtime.

"Risk." Weeds, first broadcast 5 November 2007 by Showtime.

Rose, Brian G. "The Wire." In The Essential HBO Reader, edited by Gary R. Edgerton and
Jeffery P. Jones, 82-91. Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 2008.

Rothkerch, lan. "What Drugs Have Not Destroyed, the War on Them Has." Salon, June 29,
2002, http://dir. salon. com/story/ent/tv/int/2002/0629/simon.

Ryan, Maureen. "Watching The Wire on BET." The Watcher, January 4, 2007, http://features
blogs. chicagotribune. com/entertainment~tv/2007/01/ watching the wi .html.

Scarface (Widescreen Anniversary Edition). Directed by Brian De Palma. Universal City, CA:
Universal Studios, 2003. DVD.

Sconce, Jeffrey. "What If!: Charting Television's New Textual Boundaries." In Television After
Ty: Essays on a M~edium in Transition, edited by Lynn Spigel and Jan Olssen, 93-1 12.
Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2004.

"Sentencing." The Wire: The Complete First Season. New York: Home Box Office, Inc., 2004.
DVD .

Shaw, Deborah. "Blow: How a Film Created a Hero From a Top-Level Drug Trafficker and
Blamed the 'Colombians' for his Downfall." Quarterly Review ofFilm and Video 24, no.
1 (2007): 31-40.

"Shit Highway." Weeds, first broadcast 3 September 2007 by Showtime.

"Showtime Dreams of More Dexter, Another Puff of Weed(s)." Televisionary, November 3,
2006, http ://www.televisionaryblog. com/ 2006/11 /showtime-dreams-of-more-dexter-
another.html .

"Showtime Grows a Fourth Season of Weeds." Zap2it, November 5, 2007, http://www.zap2it.
com/tv/news/zap-showtimeordersfourthseasonfees0,4197287. story? coll=zap-tv-
headlines.









shifts that work to make dealing the most logical, meaningful, and widely available occupation

for the predominantly black urbanites on which its narratives center. Furthermore, by offering

the dockworkers' storyline as a framework through which viewers can interpret its juxtaposition

of Avon and Stringer' s masculinities, The Wire also draws attention to the ways that the

legitimate capitalist institutions toward which other dealing narratives ask their viewers (as well

as their protagonists) to direct their ambitions actually inhibit individuals' abilities to construct

and maintain meaningful, fulfilling identities and lifestyles.

More specifically, The Wire uses its constructions of its protagonists' masculinities to

wrestle with the tensions and destabilizations produced through relatively new economic

paradigms and practices like postindustrialization and neoliberalism. Through a metaphor of

materiality, the narrative laments the subsequent loss of corporeal labor and meaningful work.

Avon's material masculinity corresponds with older forms of capitalist production that-like his

dealing praxis-have largely disappeared in the increasingly abstract, corporatized, and global

socioeconomic landscape embodied in Stringer. In short, the series employs its depictions of

masculinity to confront and critique the economic changes and destabilizations that inhibit men's

abilities to construct fulfilling identities out of their work.

The Wire thus turns the masculine tropes through which most other dealing narratives

reiterate the value and desirability of legitimate capitalist institutions in on themselves to point to

the ways that, as Simon states, "everybody who serves an institution in post-modern America is

[in] some way betrayed by that institution-the institution no longer serves the people it was

intended to, or the people who serve it are misused, or sometimes both." 1os While its creator's

intentions and its location on premium cable-and specifically HBO-play maj or roles in The

Wire's ideological outcomes, the show primarily accomplishes its critique through its use of










SMittell, Jason, Genre and Television: From Cop .\use~ \ to Calrtoons in American Culture (New
York: Routledge, 2004), 12. All subsequent references parenthetically noted in the text.

9 Easy Rider. DVD. Directed by Dennis Hopper (Culver City, CA: Sony Pictures Entertainment,
2002).

10 In her Using Women, Nancy Campbell argues that drug discourses frequently construct
addiction "as threatening to modernity, democracy, and capitalism rather than produced by
them or endemic to them" (90). She further contends that women act as particularly potent
figures through which to depict the dangers of drug use and trafficking because, more so than
men, "women are made responsible for absorbing the costs of social reproduction" (6).

"1 In calling their narrative structures unique, I obviously do not mean to imply that The Wire and
Weeds are the only popular cultural texts to be structured serially. Rather, the specific forms that
serialization takes in each show-The Wire's reverse puzzle structure and Weeds episodically
inverted, serialized sitcom format-are particularly innovative and novel.

12 The second looks at the declining value of work through its depiction of a stevedores union
involved with a transnational smuggling organization, the third uses its portrayal of city politics
to explore issues of reform, the fourth adds in an examination of Baltimore' s school system, and
its fifth includes a media-centered subplot.









In short, using its female dealing protagonist, serialized sitcom structure, and suburban

setting, Weeds highlights (for both its viewers and its main character) the ways in which white

privilege functions to produce black oppression, as in, for example, its portrayal of Nancy and

Conrad's differential relationships to Peter. At the same time, drug dealing allows Weeds'

protagonist to carve out a space in which she can (and, indeed, does) create an autonomous and

fulfilling self, freed from the patriarchal forces by which her life was previously circumscribed.

Weeds thus depicts drug dealing not as an illegitimate shortcut to economic attainment or

gendered achievement but rather as both a useful lens through which its protagonist can reassess

the assumptions that formerly governed her life and a strong base on which she can build a new,

more fulfilling identity.

Showtime commissioned a fourth season of Weeds in November of 2007. 116 True to the

show' s established format, the course the narrative will take when it returns to the air remains

uncertain. Despite Nancy's exorcism of patriarchal authority, her dealing career again faces

extinction this time at the hands of Celia, who immediately uttered Nancy's name to authorities

after firefighters discovered the numerous pot plants that Nancy and Conrad had been growing in

her house. 11 However, Nancy's precarious situation at the third season's end does not simply

threaten her ability to continue dealing drugs but also opens up a horizon of possibility not

offered in the finales of seasons one and two. Thus, whatever path Nancy takes when Weeds'

fourth season commences, her self-fashioned, dealing-derived gangster identity will continue to

provide the narrative with the necessary tools with which to maintain and hopefully expand its

subversions of the dealing genre' s historical conventions.

Notes










Thus, despite Sobotka' s efforts to save his struggling union, it ultimately meets its demise at the

hands of city bureaucrats and developers (not to mention the union-busting FBI).

In The Wire's third season, Avon is released from jail and returns to his former post as

head of his dealing empire. However, his and Stringer' s visions for the organization increasingly

clash with one another, as Avon continues to fight for territory while Stringer insists that they are

"past that [war] bullshit" and entreats his partner to consider running the organization more like

"businessmen."ll Indeed, while Avon is out warring for his version of real estate, Stringer is

working with developer Andy Krawczyk to erect a high-rise, waterfront condominium in

downtown Baltimore.

Daniels' detail continues to investigate the Barksdale organization, and they eventually

obtain the location of Avon' s wartime safe house and catch Stringer on the wiretap. However,

before the police can get to Stringer, Omar and Mouzone kill him for his earlier deceptions of

both men and his involvement in Brandon's brutal murder. The police later arrest Avon and the

maj ority of his muscle, and the deposed kingpin returns to j ail for at least five years. Thus, by the

end of The Wire's third season, Avon is incarcerated for an indeterminate period of time and

Stringer is dead.

Through its depiction of these events, The Wire forwards a sharp critique of the declining

value of work within late American capitalist institutions, primarily by juxtaposing the

differential masculinities of its protagoni sts-particularly those of Avon and Stringer-against one

another. However, unlike other dealing narratives, The Wire does so not to valorize licit capitalist

institutions and practices but to expose and challenge them. The series employs a metaphor of

"material masculinity"-which I discuss in greater detail below-to critically examine the

economic destabilizations that compel particular individuals and groups to engage in illicit











TABLE OF CONTENTS


page

ACKNOWLEDGMENT S .............. ...............3.....

AB S TRAC T ..... ._ ................. ............_........6

CHAPTER

1 INTRODUCTION ................. ...............8.......... ......


Genre Overview: Generic Discourses and Drug Dealing Narratives ................. .................1 1
Proj ect Overview: The Wire, Weeds, and the Drug Dealing Genre ................. ................ .. 15
Notes ................. ...............18.................

2 GENDER AND THE DRUG DEALING GENRE: HEGEMONIC MASCULINITY
AND CAPITALIST LEGITIMACY IN DRUG DEALING NARRATIVES .......................20


Gendered Expansion: Hegemonic Masculinity and the Emergence of Global Drug
M markets .............. .... ....._ .. .. ... .._ ........ .. ..... .. .........2
Gender and Genre: Drug Discourses and the Prehistory of Dealing Narratives ........._._.......29
Drug Dealers as Self-Made Men: Race, Gender, and Capitalism in the Dealing Genre........37
Resistant Strains: The Wire, Weeds, and Drug Dealing on Post-Network Television ...........50
N otes ................. ...............52._ ___.......

3 "AND ALL THE PIECES MATTER": THE WIRE' S SERIALIZED SUBVERSION
OF THE DRUG DEALING GENRE ................. ......... ...............57.....


"Swear to God, it isn't a Cop Show": Situating The Wire in the Televisual Landscape........62
"Everything is Connected": The Wire, Puzzle Logic, and Generic Subversion....................67
"All in the Game": Seriality, Materiality, and Late Capitalist Masculinity .........................73
Conclusion ............ ..... ._ ...............84...
N otes ............ ..... ._ ...............86....

4 "DEALING IN THE SUBURB S": GENDER, RACE, AND SERIALIZED
SUBVERSION IN WEEDS ................. ...............93........... ....


"Little Boxes on the Hillside": Situating Weeds in the Televisual Landscape ................... ....96
"Mrs. Botwin's Neighborhood": Sitcom Serialization in Suburbia ................ .. ................1 01
"I'm Not a Dealer; I'm a Mother": White Privilege, Symbolic Fatherhood, and Dealing
Identity in W eeds .............. .... ........_.._ ... ...... _. ...... .. ..... ..........10
"Nobody's Bitch Anymore": From Mother to Gangster in Weeds' Third Season ...............111
Conclusion ................ ...............122................
Notes ................. ...............123................










balances its humor with a solid dose of drama and significantly reworks the conventions of

typical network comedies, but at its core Weeds remains tied to the sitcom format.

Like The Wire, Weeds engages with the trope of self-made masculinity, but by exploring

the trope through a female protagonist the show undermines and reworks the genre's typical

functions. Rather than denigrating dealing as an illegitimate shortcut to capitalist achievement,

Weeds depicts dealing as more conducive than licit enterprises to the production of rewarding

and reflexive work identities. The show' s serialized and episodically inverted sitcom structure,

suburban setting, and location on premium cable also contribute to its gendered generic

subversion.

In the conclusion, I look more closely at the industrial context in which The Wire and

Weeds are situated in order to produce a better understanding of the conditions that facilitate the

production of such generically and generally subversive television narratives, in spite of the fact

that more traditional representations of drug dealing continue to flourish in Hollywood films.

While I do discuss their respective industrial contexts within the chapters that focus on The Wire

and Weeds, a fuller examination of the televisual landscape produces a more satisfying picture of

the historical conditions from which these texts' emerged. Additionally, I explore the

construction of the premium cable audience, address the political implications of that

construction, and discuss some of the illicit ways that non-subscribers access the shows.

However, none of the aforementioned factors-serialization, authorial intent, the content

of the narratives, or even industrial context-alone explains the emergence and success of these

generically subversive drug dealing narratives. But looking simultaneously at the series'

innovative structures, their authors' visions, their locations on premium cable, and the actual

narratives themselves-as well as the interactions between these textual and extratextual










Genre Overview: Generic Discourses and Drug Dealing Narratives

In his Genre and' Television: From Cop .\use~ \ to Cartoons in American Culture, Jason

Mittell contends that in conceiving of genres as "discursive practices ... we can examine the

ways in which various forms of communication work to constitute generic definitions, meanings,

and values within particular historical contexts."s Drawing from Michel Foucault's "accounts of

discursive formulations," Mittell argues that "the discourses surrounding and running through a

given genre are divinse/re sI~ constitutive of that generic category; they are the practices that define

genres and delimit their meanings, not media texts themselves" (13). In other words, genres are

not inherent components of the texts with which they are associated. Rather, genres are produced

as much through the particular texts that come to populate them, the ways that generic texts get

talked about (in, for example, the popular press, trade magazines, and academic scholarship), the

discourses by which those texts are made meaningful, and the interactions occurring among and

between the texts as through textual properties such as formal distinctions, subj ect matter, and

narrative structure.

Drug dealing narratives span a wide range of cultural forms and generic categories, from

newspaper articles and novels to crime dramas and situation comedies. Indeed, the heterogeneity

characteristic of narratives that centrally feature the practice initially begs the question of

whether or not drug dealing actually works as a useful lens through which to examine the vast

array of texts in which it appears. However, although these texts fit less neatly together than do

those typically grouped into other, more "commonsense" genres (such as romance novels or

period films), drug dealing narratives generally draw from a similar set of discursive

formulations that, in spite of the texts' noted differences, work to unify them into an intelligible

generic category. These discourses operate differently at various historical moments and in









narratives proclaiming the vice-ridden character of Chinatown' s inhabitants worked to

symbolically marginalize Chinese masculinities as well as to impose material limitations upon

their economic accumulation and business activities.

However, not all such discourses were so blatantly sexualized. Drug historian David

Musto discusses white United States Southerners' "fear[s] that Negro cocaine users might

become oblivious of their prescribed bounds and attack white society."32 Marez similarly asserts

that discourses surrounding "the work of Mexican smugglers epitomized the dangers of

radicalized Mexican immigrant workers" during the second half of the nineteenth century up to

about the 1930s or 40s.33 These broader, less sexualized discourses further suggest that it was not

so much the danger posed to white women per se that alarmed anti-drug reformers, politicians,

and the general public but rather wider-ranging fears about the Western world's increasing racial

heterogeneity, particularly in terms of labor issues.

Indeed, Marez argues that, as early as the mid-nineteenth century, the works of British

writers like Rudyard Kipling and Oscar Wilde exhibit a profound fear of "the seeming ability of

Chinese emigrants to reproduce their labor power at a cheaper rate, and hence for lower wages,

than [white] workers."34 He further contends that the criminalization of marijuana in the United

States was primarily a "labor-control tactic" that "gave the state additional power to police

Mexican immigrants and labor activists."35 Thus, drug discourses and the narratives they

inflected registered anxieties about the declining hegemony of the land-owning classes as, in

Connell's words, new "forms of masculinity organized around wage-earning capacity,

mechanical skills, domestic patriarchy and combative solidarity among wage earners" emerged

and became institutionalized within the industrializing economy (196).










As previously noted, however, Peter's plan does not work out as he expected; the DEA

agent ends up dead, and Weeds' second season finale closes not only with five guns pointed at

Nancy's head but also with the police-at Celia' s request-pulling Silas over for his theft of the

"Drug Free Zone" signs and surveillance cameras that Celia (now a city councilperson) installed

in Agrestic. 57 Although neither Celia nor the cops know about the large quantity of pot hidden in

Silas' trunk, viewers (as well as Silas himself) remain unsure as to whether or not the substance

will be discovered when the series returns for its third season. Thus, as usual, Nancy's dealing

career and, indeed, her life hang in the balance at the season's end.

However, over the course of the second and third seasons, Nancy comes to realize the

extent to which she has been dependent upon as well as inhibited by the patriarchal power that

symbolic fathers like Peter and Judah exercise over her life and her dealing praxis. Additionally,

she becomes increasingly disillusioned with the middle-class suburban lifestyle she spent the

first two seasons trying to maintain. However, just after she succeeds in ridding Peter from her

life, Nancy's attempts at self-making are once again undermined when she is forced to submit to

yet another masculine (though not so much "patriarchal") authority, U-Turn.

"Nobody's Bitch Anymore": From Mother to Gangster in Weeds' Third Season

In an interview with WNYC's Leonard Lopate, Kohan describes Weeds' third season as

being about "the evolution of a gangster." The season' s narrative arc supports her statements

and, moreover, depicts Nancy's new gangster identity as one that affords her more freedom and

agency than did her previous incarnation as simply a "mother who happens to distribute illegal

products.'"5 In its depiction of Nancy's evolution from mother to gangster, the series provides its

most succinct subversion of the dealing genre' s conventions. Nancy's gangster persona both

allows and requires her to cast aside the trappings of her increasingly oppressive middle-class









law enforcement tactics the rest of the film depicts.61 Although the aforementioned films focus

less on the figure of the dealer than on dealing economies in general and law enforcement efforts

aimed at controlling them, even films like Scarface, Blow, and Hustle & Flow abide by this

racist, misogynist tradition. Both Tony Montana and George Jung partially constitute their

masculinities by "stealing" the wives of their former bosses, and DJay's prostitutes not only

support his hip hop endeavors but remain on the sidelines while only he reaps the benefits of

their collective work.

Additionally, some films that do employ the trope of self-made masculinity resist the

temptation to construct dealing in direct opposition to legitimate employment in order to assert

the value of legitimate capitalist enterprise. Seventies blaxpoitation films, for example, often

work to disavow the connections between drug dealing and black communities or, more

importantly for my purposes (though somewhat less frequently), allow their protagonists to

fashion successful masculinities through their illegal activities. For example, the protagonist of

Superbly (1972), Youngblood Priest, successfully outsmarts corrupt policemen and manages to

conduct one last drug deal before exiting the business.62 However, while dealing does allow

Priest to fashion a successful masculinity, he must renounce his illegal occupation to enact the

gender identity he desires.

The 2006 film Alpha Dog could be read as a mocking commentary on contemporary

masculinity. When the film's protagonist, Jesse James Hollywood, fails to extract the money he

is owed from one of his dealers, he and his young, white associates kidnap and ultimately kill the

debtor' s younger brother. By the film's end, however, the young dealers' flamboyant

hypermasculinities have landed them in jail, while the older, more reserved dealers for whom

they previously worked continue to evade law enforcement officials.63 Self-fashioning sits just









narratives in order to examine the ways in which the genre has been redefined, reworked, and

transformed through its encounters with different cultural forms-particularly serialized, premium

cable television.

Notes


SR.W. Connell, M~asculinities (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 186.

2 David Banash, "Intoxicating Class: Cocaine at the Multiplex," Postmodern Culture 12.1
(2001): par 2, https://muse-jhu-edu.1p.hscl.ufl.edu/j ournals/pmc/v012/12. 1 banash.html (accessed
15 Feb 2008).

3 Ibid, par 2.

4 The term was popularized in the early 1980s, most notably by Tim Carrigan, Connell, and John
Lee in their "Toward a New Sociology of Masculinity" in Theory and Society 14, no.5 (1985):
551-604. Connell also employed the term in "Hegemonic Masculinity and Emphasized
Femininity" in his Gender and Power (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1987), 183-190.

SR.W. Connell and James Messerschmidt, "Hegemonic Masculinity: Rethinking the Concept,"
Gender & Society 19 (2005): 832. Subsequent references noted parenthetically in text. Connell
and Messerschmidt write the section of their article from which I am quoting in the past tense in
order to emphasize the differing and expanded ways that the term has been used since its original
coinage; I have converted their arguments into the present tense for linguistic clarity and
consistence.

6 JOhn Tosh, "Hegemonic Masculinity and the History of Gender" in M~asculinities in Politics
and War, eds. Stefan Dudink, Karen Hagemann, and John Tosh (Manchester: Manchester
University Press, 2004), 43.

SConnell, M~asculinities, 185; Tosh, "Hegemonic Masculinity and the History of Gender," 52.

SSee Connell and Messerschmidt' s discussion of the concepts' applications in "Hegemonic
Masculinity: Rethinking the Concept," 833-835 and Tosh's similar discussion in "Hegemonic
Masculinity and the History of Gender," 51-53.

9 COnnell, M~asculinities, 187. Unless otherwise noted, all subsequent references to Connell
derive from M~asculinities and are parenthetically noted in the text.

10 David Courtwright, Forces ofHabit: Drugs and the Making of the M~odern World (Cambrid ge:
Harvard University Press, 2001), 2. Subsequent references noted parenthetically in the text.

"1 Curtis Marez, Drug Wars: The Political Economy ofNarcotics (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 2004), 46.









image, exchanging its former slogan-"We Make Excitement"-for an edgier brand identity based

around its new maxim, "No Limits" (49).

According to Wible, Showtime's "advertisements in trade publications now assert that

'No Limits' captures its vision to 'push the boundaries of everyday television, offering an

emotional escape that has no limits and endless possibilities'" (49). Showtime works to deliver

on this promise by "creating original series that ostensibly target niche audiences served less

often by broadcast and cable networks" (50). Thus, much like HBO, Showtime bases its brand

identity on its ability to, in the words of its chief programmer, Jerry Offsay, "find shows and

characters and worlds that just aren't being portrayed on network television."' Although

Showtime does not promote the biographies of its creators with the same intensity as does HBO,

it does capitalize on the increased "creative license" offered by "its status as a pay channel."s

Weeds' creator Jenji Kohan took full advantage of this freedom and created a show that not only

revolves around an edgy topic but also experiments with the entrenched conventions of the

situation comedy and subverts those of the dealing genre.

Indeed, Kohan whose previous writing credits include such diverse fare as The Fresh

Prince ofBel-Air (NBC, 1990-1996), Mad About You (NBC, 1992-1999), and Tracy TakeTTT~~~~~TTTTT~~~~s On

(HBO, 1996-1999) discusses her show not only in terms of broadcast network expectations but

also in relation to the easy, half-hour solutions associated with traditional situation comedies. As

she states, Weeds "was sort of my anti-network homage ... I became obsessed with wanting to

explore the gray areas of life as opposed to everything being so black and white."9 Many

commentators have referred to Weeds as a "dramedy"-or "a television program ... which fuses

elements of comedy and drama" lo-rather than as a sitcom. 1 However, while the show has its











ssIbid., emphasis added.


89 "The Punishment Lighter," 1.9. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son One (Hollywood: Lions Gate
Television, Inc., 2006).

90 "The Godmother," 1.10. DVD. Weeds: Sea~son One (Hollywood: Lions Gate Television, Inc.,
2006).

91 "He Taught Me How to Drive-By." Nancy took a legitimate job in the episode "Shit
Highway," becoming, as she tells Shane, "the Executive Assistant to the head of the Majestic
Proj ect." In "He Taught Me How to Drive-By," she decides to take advantage of her boss'
(usually) unwanted advances for the sake of convenience.

92 "The Dark Time."

93 "Dead in the Nethers."

94 "Protection."

95 For example, Nisha Gopalan expresses a hope that the third season will include scenes that
depict "Nancy confronting what a deplorable mother she has become" ("Sewer' s Folly,"
EW com, September 4, 2007 [accessed February 25, 2008]). Emma Pearse accuses Nancy of "all
but ignoring [Shane] for the entire season" (" Weeds: Nancy Gets a Tattoo," Nymag.com,
November 6, 2007 [accessed March 2, 2008]), and blogger Mitchell Bard calls her "a drug dealer
neglecting her kids" ("Breaking BadBBBBBB~~~~~~~BBBBBB May Not be Weeds, But it Breaks Pretty Good," Another
Blog .. Sorry, January 25, 2008 [accessed February 25, 2008]).

96 The aforementioned evaluations of Nancy's mothering skills also reek of sexism; male dealing
protagonists rarely if ever encounter such criticisms. For example, in the fourth season of The
Wire, viewers learn that Barksdale soldier Wee-Bey has a son, Namond. Namond visits his father
in j ail several times, and both his parents frequently chastise him for his inability to step into his
father' s shoes. However, bloggers and television critics did not jump on Wee-Bey for trying to
push his offspring into the dangerous occupation that sent him to jail for life. Indeed, Wee-Bey
was ultimately redeemed when he allowed Bunny Colvin to adopt Namond at the season's end
("Final Grades," 4.13. DVD. The Wire: The Complete Fourth Sea~son [New York: Home Box
Office, Inc., 2007])

97 "Release the Hounds," 3.9. Weeds, Showtime, October 8, 2007.

98 "Cankles."

99 "Protection."

too "Risk."

101 "Protection."










required to attain the masculine status he seeks, Montana' s struggle to reconcile familial values

with those of the drug economy is doomed to fail. The dealing economy leaves no room for

familial satisfaction (for its participants or its foes) and thus cannot confer full masculine status

upon its workers.

Although the fi1m includes a brief scene in which Montana' s mother admonishes him for

his career choice, refuses the money he offers her, and declares that "I work for my living,"

Scarface does not engage in exactly the same kinds of work-related juxtapositions as does

Gatsby. Rather, De Palma's film emphasizes the moral and masculine limits with which the

dealing economy presents its protagonist. Blow, on the other hand, consistently juxtaposes the

illicit work performed by its dealing protagonist, George Jung, against the honest, blue collar toil

at which his father makes his modest living. Indeed, as Banash contends, "the fi1m revolves

around Jung's troubled relationship to his working-class roots in Boston."" In explicitly (rather

than, as in the case of Scarface, implicitly) constructing dealing in opposition to legitimate work,

Blow emphasizes the masculine meanings that are available to men who earn their living within

licit occupations and distinctly unavailable to those who choose to work outside of its borders.

The first time Jung's father appears in the film, Jung explains in a voiceover that "[m]y

dad ran a plumbing and heating company. He had three trucks, ten employees, and did big jobs.

He was my hero."56 Despite his hard work, however, Jung's father "didn't make enough money

to keep mom happy," and the family eventually "lost everything to a bankruptcy." As Jung

states, continuing his voiceover narration, "I decided right then and there I wasn't going to live

like that. I needed to get as far away as possible." To this end, Jung moves to California and

starts dealing and, later, trafficking large amounts of marijuana as a young adult. Although he

eventually goes to prison for trafficking, his time in j ail proves beneficial; his cellmate, Diego,









begging DJay to listen to their demo. Unlike Skinny Black, DJay agrees to give the fledgling

rappers a chance.

DJay responds to the men's request by repeating the film's tagline: "You know what they

say; everybody gotta have a dream."'" Thus, Hustle & Flow positions itself in terms of the same

"American dream" motif with which scholars associate Gatsby. However, DJay can only realize

his dream after he has been punished for the illicit activities in which he previously engaged. His

attempt to get noticed through Skinny Black primarily fails because the rapper sees DJay only as

a marijuana dealer the pretense under which he gains admission to Black' s party. But after

DJay goes to jail for attacking Black, he achieves the success that eluded him as a pimp and drug

dealer. In contrast to the disheartened, struggling criminal viewers meet at the film's beginning,

the jailed DJay who appears at its end is happy, fulfilled, and successful. In short, DJay' s illegal

activities were not conducive to masculine self-making; only after he has been forced out of the

drug trade can DJay craft a legitimate, rewarding gender identity.

American Gangster fits more neatly within the framework exemplified by Gatsby. Its

protagonist, drug dealer Frank Lucas, makes a name for himself selling the potent "Blue Magic"

heroin he imports from Vietnam.59 Although he sets his family up with a respectable estate in

New Jersey and marries a beauty queen, Lucas conducts his dealing in a diligently discrete

manner. He thus manages to remain below honest, hard-working law enforcement officer Richie

Roberts' radar until the detective spies Lucas wearing an uncharacteristically gaudy fur coat and

sitting with a group of high-level criminals at a Muhammad Ali match. In other words, Lucas'

demise results less from his dealing than from his public appropriation of the mannerisms and

attributes of legitimately wealthy men. Thus, in much the way that Gatsby's illegally acquired

wealth inhibits his ability to enact the middle-class masculinity he tries to make for himself,









prohibition received wide support from "the country's commercial and industrial leadership" due

to its imagined potential to drive up productivity and decrease workers' demands for greater

wages. 39 Unsurprisingly, then, representations of bootleggers closely resemble those of their

contemporary dealing counterparts. When alcohol production moved underground with the

advent of Prohibition in 1920, popular cultural texts began contending with the Eigure of the

bootlegger, setting the stage for later representations of drug dealers following the repeal of

Prohibition in 1933.40

Drug Dealers as Self-Made Men: Race, Gender, and Capitalism in the Dealing Genre

F. Scott Fitzgerald' s The Great Gatsby stands as the archetypical drug dealing narrative.

With its focus on the bootlegging Jay Gatsby, Fitzgerald's novel laid the foundation for later

dealing narratives that appeared following the re-legalization of alcohol in 1933. Unlike earlier

narratives, which focused on characters who are more accurately described as drug distributors

than "dealers," generic texts after Gatsby function less to simply demonize the economic

endeavors and class positions of particularly raced groups than to do so in order to assert a

meaning for legitimate capitalism by depicting the illegal dealings undertaken by bootleggers

and drug traffickers in relation to licit capitalism and the gender, race, and class hierarchies it

produces and perpetuates.

The Great Gatsby may be the first generic text to depict its dealing protagonist in terms

of what Michael Kimmel has called the Self-Made Man."41 In his Manhood in America: A

Cultural History, Kimmel argues that the industrialization and bureaucratization of which

Connell and Bederman speak culminated in the emergence of a new form of hegemonic

masculinity, epitomized in the Eigure of the self-made man. Kimmel asserts that the self-made

man defined, as he states, by "success in the marketplace, individual achievement, [and]









She enj oys a close relationship with her bulk supplier, Heylia James; she boasts an established

customer base in her fictional suburb, Agrestic; and by the season's end, she and Conrad

Shepherd, Heylia's nephew, have hatched a plan to establish a marijuana grow house and

cultivate their own strain. However, Nancy struggles throughout the season to balance her illicit

career with her mothering and her middle-class, suburban lifestyle. Although she receives some

parenting help from her freeloading brother-in-law, Andy Botwin, her hardships only increase

after the first season's finale, in which Nancy discovers that her new love interest, Peter

Scottson, works for the Drug Enforcement Agency.

Nancy attempts to break things off cleanly with Peter at the beginning of the second

season, telling him that his job is too dangerous and that, as a widow, she cannot handle losing

another man. Peter already knows about her illicit occupation, but he promises to look the other

way in exchange for another chance to establish a relationship with Nancy. She agrees only after

Peter offers to marry her, which prevents him from ever having to testify against her in court.2

But Nancy's dealing eventually creates an irreparable rift in their relationship, and Peter

commands Nancy and Conrad to sell their remaining crop to a single buyer, give the money to

him, and get out of the drug business.

Nancy and Conrad set about complying with Peter's demands and procure a single buyer

- drug dealing gangster, U-Turn. Meanwhile, Heylia devises a more permanent way to get rid of

Peter; she hires Armenian hitmen to kill him while Nancy and Conrad conduct the deal with U-

Turn. However, U-Turn and his lieutenant, Marvin, rip Nancy and Conrad off, arriving at the

grow house with guns rather than money. Thus, when the Armenians bust through the back door

demanding their payment, Conrad has nothing to give them. To make matters worse, Nancy

opens the grow house's safe to reluctantly hand over the weed and discovers that her eldest son,









Baltimore's legitimate, blue-collar employment opportunities have been in decline since at least

the 1970s, when both McNulty's and his unit partner' s fathers were laid off from Bethlehem

Steel.49 Indeed, Sobotka dates the beginning of his union's slow death within this same time

period-about 25 years prior to the time in which The Wire's second season takes place.'o

Moreover, D'Angelo justifies his dealing to McNulty and Assistant State's Attorney Rhonda

Pearlman by explaining that "you grow up in this shit. My grandfather was Butch Stanford. Do

you know who Butch Stanford was in this town? ... All my people, man-my father, my uncles,

my cousins-it' s just what we do."51 In short, while white, working-class families like the

Sobotkas are struggling to hold onto some of the last legitimate blue-collar j obs in Baltimore,

inner city black families like D'Angelo's lost their illusions about such opportunities at least

three generations ago.

Sobotka echoes these sentiments in the episode "Bad Dreams" when, in the face of his

union' s demise at the hands of government bureaucrats (and legitimacy-seeking dealers like

Stringer) who would rather erect waterfront condominiums than resurrect Baltimore' s dying

ports, he laments that "we used to make shit in this country, build shit. Now we just put our hand

in the next guy's pocket."52 In Short, The Wire points to Baltimore's move from an economy

based on physical labor and tangible products to one based more on information, technology, and

services as the displacing agent that turns drug dealing into a logical occupational decision. As

Alvarez states, "This is the windmill Frank Sobotka tilts against, believing the money he's

getting to smuggle containers of contraband off the docks can be used to save a way of life that

has largely passed from the city, the port, his union, and his family" (131).

The show's reverse puzzle structure thus relates closely to its successful use of

serialization to counter hegemonic drug discourses and the generic conventions that typify most




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