TFCS is a fairly widespread epidemic in modern television, but it has been popping up at alarming rates in the last few years and is apparent when beholding the options for dramas this season and the upcoming summer season. Even though it has a separate strain that reaches the big screen now and again, the strongest mutation feeds off of long, complicated, and distressing storylines which allow it to evolve and ultimately thrive. Some symptoms vary from case to case, but the underlying archetype is the same.
Fictional female members of law enforcement who suffer from TFCS are bold, opinionated, strong (the easy-to-spot kind of strength), cynical, "tough as nails" or some other constructing implement, skilled fighters, logical about everything except their own lives, unwilling to confide in anyone save maybe one person (usually a man), victims of a tragic childhood or serious family-related problems, beer drinkers, unable to bend to the will of superiors, prone to breaking rules social, legal or otherwise, and, most importantly, completely closed off, appearing to be unemotional when really they are afraid of being vulnerable. Throughout the life of a series, she will grow and change but will always keep these core traits. The apex of her evolution will occur when she is compelled to emotionally break down, displaying sudden vulnerability to her closest male friend or lover (the aforementioned confidant), resulting in a romantic union, a moment of self discovery, or both. At this point, TFCS will have consumed her and, in the most serious cases, the credibility of the entire show (In Plain Sight is one of the lucky ones, but it might be too soon to tell).
Often the emotional outbursts (Detective Olivia Benson, Law and Order SVU), detachment from normal society (Doctor and Agent Temperance Brennan, Bones), and unfettered disgust or annoyance with their male counterpart (Detective Kate Beckett, Castle) are unnecessarily melodramatic and audacious when matched with the straightforward or nonexistent conflicts they face. The reactionary nature of these characters is a constant source of strain on their own lives and their relationships with friends, coworkers, and family members. This creates a precarious threat of total isolation that feeds the disease, cutting out the majority of potential positive support while testing the close circle of friends or peers that remain loyal for no determinable reason.
TFCS was manufactured as an anecdote to VUSSD (Vapid Uninteresting Sex Symbol Disease) that ran rampant in previous decades. While VUSSD emphasizes the softer, sexier, and often “simpler” visions of the ladies on our TV screens, TFCS aggressively rooted its victims in overtly hardened, masculine traits that would challenge viewers’ conceptions of women on television. TFCS did quickly evolve to include sexual appeal which ensured its contagiousness. And unfortunately, VUSSD proved to be stronger than anyone (women) thought, and television is now riddled with characters that represent polar opposites of the feminine personality.
The illness is a specific strain that falls under the more overreaching I’m-Just-Doing-My-Job-itis (IJDMJ), which effects a broader population in television. Victims of IJDMJ do whatever they can to be the best in their field in an effort to help others and wallow in stolen moments of self pity and reflection on the imperfections of the world around them. Those moments usually take place on a balcony, alone in their offices, or staring out a window with a drink, important file, or piece of lengthy but well-known literature in hand. Along with the aforementioned members of law enforcement, IJDMJ frequents doctors (or nurses), lawyers, and the occasional con artist with a heart of gold. While it is seen in both men and women, many of the same symptoms that are common in TFCS are almost strictly visible in women who suffer from IJDMJ.
Miraculously, some characters are immune to TFCS even when they are placed in an environment that leaves them exposed and susceptible. Detective Brenda Lee Johnson of The Closer is the head of the LA priority homicide unit, comprised of almost all men which opens her up to become "one of the boys" who could take them in a fight if she had to. Instead she commands respect through her skills and consistent ability to produce results, despite her humorous sugar addiction, lack of overt sexual appeal or a masculine edge, a healthy and open, albeit amusingly dysfunctional, relationship with her fiancée, and her clumsy nature. Unlike the flaws of TFCS victims, hers are unglamorous and lack the flair of scandal. No study has been conducted to discover the origin of her immunity.
What makes TFCS a disease, though, is how freely and unconsciously writers, directors, producers, and actors rely on this prototype to sculpt these women in lieu of creating new, multi-dimensional characters that propel diverse concepts of powerful women on television. Special Agent Dana Scully, effectively Patient Zero, survived as a well-rounded character (excluding the final two seasons of the X Files, when the illness was aggravated by pregnancy and motherhood) even with most if not all of the traits of the current mutation. She was spared because within the realm of the show, she made sense. What was demanded of her character and the circumstances in which she functioned allowed this personality to be logical and effortless. TFCS casualties rarely seem genuine in their given situation.
Some may say that the real victims here are fans of the police drama genre. Women who crave relatable characters are bombarded with one idea of a strong woman in a male dominated field. Currently there is no cure. And considering the critical praise of these characters and their TV shows, it is more than likely that no one is looking.
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