Weeds, Suburbia, and the American Mosaic
Showtime’s satirical masterpiece remains refreshingly relevant.
My first glimpse of “Weeds” was the fleeting sight of a billboard on a large highway leaving New York City. Against a background of green grass, blue skies, and cookie-cutter homes, five coyly grinning characters were contained in a Ziploc Bag. The tagline was “A Comedy Series about Dealing in the Suburbs”. Being nine, I didn’t understand the allusion, but it was clear those characters were privy to something larger than the model of happiness behind them.
Years later, “Weeds” became the first TV series I binge watched in a matter of days on Netflix. Throughout its airtime, and beyond, it has been a counterbalance to the idea of suburban success informed by the U.S. TV landscape before it. “Weeds” has always made a special point of subverting the American Dream, but not in the sordid or supernatural ways of David Lynch. Nancy Botwin, the white widow pot-dealing protagonist, doesn’t navigate a particularly shocking or mysterious world. It’s the world of marginalized people that had always existed beside her, and one she might have avoided if not for relying on it to maintain her comfortable lifestyle.
The characters that make up Nancy Botwin’s marijuana ring are peddling something illegal, albeit now legalized or decriminalized in the states of the series’ primary setting. But this story doesn’t serve to say that marginalized people are criminals. From episode one, “Weeds” has written scenes and dialogue that posit such stereotypes and then masterfully invalidate them. Throughout the series eight seasons, recurring characters abound who represent every race, class, personal identity, and faith in the American conversation. The characters and their inner workings serve to emphasize that the kind of American Dream Nancy is trying to uphold is not readily available or comfortable for marginalized people, whether because of draconian law enforcement or general discrimination.
Moreover, it quickly becomes clear that she can only uphold the appearance of that success and comes to rely on these people for not only business, but compassion. In her desperate attempts to stay afloat as a sudden single parent, Nancy finds other disadvantaged people to be the most trustworthy. As the charming veneer of suburbia fades and eventually collapses, and their competitors threaten violence, these people dare to support one another, fail one another, and then forgive one another in an unforgiving world. Too often categorized among the stoner showcases or cartel capers, “Weeds” is actually TV’s most diverse and textured mosaic about the pursuit of happiness in 21st century America. Besides that, Doug Wilsons’ hysterical antics and a pop soundtrack that rivals the work of Sofia Coppola are reason enough to watch.
Calling “Weeds” a satire doesn’t make its meaning any less true. The meaning comes precisely from the idea that its contemporaries have failed to balance the normalized perspective. In times of civil upheaval, it is especially important to inform ourselves on the circumstances, experiences, and opinions of different people from their voices directly. In times of national lockdown, it is understandable to spend a lot of time watching TV. Jenji Kohan, the series’ creator, acknowledged the metaphorical connection between the title and her characters, saying it refers to “Hardy plants struggling to survive”. Whether or not that sounds like your experience in America, there is no more entertaining way to try better understanding it.