And the always-awesome announcement is finally here, and the thirteenth Doctor will be a woman! I could not be more thrilled. But not, this time, because feminism. Sure, that’s always a factor for me, but on this my feelings are more complicated.
Let me start by saying that I would not have been crying foul if they cast another man; I have a lot of trust in the showrunners of Doctor Who. When they initially announced Matt Smith I thought that would never work, and he became my favourite ever. So I reckon their judgement is superior to mine in this respect.
But it is also past time for a bit of a shake-up. Doctor Who is such a quintessentially British show, the protagonist should, as far as possible, reflect Britain. And (though I guess you have to squint hard to see it sometimes) Britain does not consist solely of white men. Doctor Who – credit where its due – has done a decent job with diversity in the companions and guest stars, but it could do better and I’m so happy to see a show I grew up with finally willing to take a risk like this.
So, new showrunner, new Doctor, most likely a new companion and that takes me to why this news is so exciting to me. Because with everything so new, now anything could happen. The possibilities for the new season have blown wide open.
And, yes, that means it could be bloody awful. But Doctor Who the show regenerates almost as often as its protagonist. If one direction backfires, the next one will make up for it. I’m willing to bet that it won’t.
Roll on Christmas! I couldn’t have wished for a nicer gift.