Mary Villiers is Giving Mother
By Anne Gregg
You have probably heard the phrase “she’s giving mother,” seen one of your queer friends post the image of a female celebrity on their story and caption it “mother,” or heard someone express an iconic fictional character like Morticia Addams as “mother.” Mother is a term born from New York City’s ballroom culture. House mothers (and drag mothers) are the matriarchs and mentors of their houses. They foster loving queer communities and act as mentors to younger queer people in the scene. While in recent years the term has been co-opted by my generation to comment on posts of pop stars and characters they like, its use gives insight into the women queer people tend to be drawn to.
Mary & George is a new historical fiction show that follows the raunchy and historically inaccurate exploits of Mary Villiers (Julianne Moore) and her second son, George Villiers (Nicholas Galitzine) as they scheme their way to King James VI & I’s (Tony Curran) side. Historical inaccuracy works in the show’s favor. It allows it to exist outside the realm of reality and avoid the complexities of accurately depicting one of the world’s most oppressive and violent kingdoms. The fictional Mary is an example of the mother trope, but The real Mary was not mother. The real George Villers and King James VI & I do not deserve our sympathy. Mary & George does not exclude some of their horrible behaviors (violence, murder, extortion of the poor) but it flattens those to make them sympathetic. We can remember the history while enjoying the messy Shakespearean show playing out in Mary & George.
Mary & George begins with the birth of George. It’s violent; Mary is drenched in blood, sweat, and tears. She sends the maids away and holds George. She laments that having a second son is not worth much to the family. He will not inherit his father’s titles or wealth. Mary is pragmatic, cold but caring. She holds her baby with affection while delivering her pessimistic view of the world onto him. When George is older, Mary plans on using George’s beauty to increase her position in the world. Learning that the king is enchanted by men like George, Mary arranges for George to meet him. George quickly gains the king’s favor and is knighted.
As George gains more power, he breaks away from Mary, believing he no longer needs her assistance. He fashions himself a god. He and his divine power rule over king and country. But he is not educated in matters of state or diplomacy. He has the talents of a gentleman and flirts his way into the king’s good graces. But when George gets himself in trouble, he has to beg for his mother’s help. And she will always help him. Mary, unlike George, knows what people want. She does not need to ask them, and she never assumes they want her body. Despite Mary’s best efforts, George drives England to war. He destroys lives to keep power. He tries to escape his death by flirting with his attacker. It fails and he falls dead. A maid reports the news to Mary. Instead of falling to tears, she’s unphased, stone faced. She walks to dinner and sits at the head of the table, lavishly set, her family, her grandkids are all smiling in their finery. She got everything she wanted.
The character of Mary is queer (one of the many liberties taken with the show) but her personality is what panders to the queer community. Mary’s character is made for queer audiences. She starts from nothing and climbs her way to the top with nothing but her ambition and a pretty son. She is cold, calculated, and pragmatic. She knows what to do to gain power and wealth. But she does have a heart; she loves her children above everything else. She embodies the protection and love expected of mothers, but rejects coyness and weakness in her children.
Mary is not content on being subservient to a man. But she is not bitter and alone; she has a sharp tongue, she’s funny. Mary is not overly empathetic. Her motherhood does not extend to everyone. It is not in her nature to mother everyone as she would her own. Mary rejects the notion that a woman should not hold power, but she does not reject being a woman. She takes her gender in account as she schemes to get what she wants. Her manipulation of men and her rise to power challenges the patriarchy.
Women who are able to use their femininity to gain power that is typically only afforded to men are icons in queer circles. When power is associated with femininity instead of masculinity. It is queered. When Mary sits at the head of the table, she is taking the place reserved for a man. She reigns over the family as a matriarch. Rather than reject her gender, Mary embraces it, not changing herself to fit into a system of power. Instead, Mary forces those around her to change to accommodate her ambition all while being a mother. If ‘mother’ is presented as the final role for women, then the queer ‘mother’ recognizes the strength and power of mothers. Mother is not the bearer of man’s children, rather mother is powerful, confident, and strong.
About the Author
Anne Gregg is a poet and writer from Northwest Indiana. She is an English Writing major at DePauw University and is the editor-in-chief of her campus’s literary magazine, A Midwestern Review. She is a Media Fellow at her university and loves dissecting how LGBTQ+ people are portrayed in film and tv.
