Rewatching ‘The Next Generation’
The Things I’ve Learned About Myself While Rewatching Star Trek: The Next Generation from Season 1, Episode 1
Like many of us who grew up with after-school syndication, I didn’t just watch TNG—I absorbed it into my bones. It shaped my worldview, my queerness, and my taste in fictional folks. And now, decades later, I’m rewatching it from the beginning, only to discover that I’m still that same kid, just with better streaming options and slightly more back pain.
Here’s what I’ve learned about myself so far:
1. My spirituality is firmly planted in a Gene Roddenberry belief system.
There’s something deeply comforting about the Star Trek vision of the future—one where knowledge, exploration, and ethical dilemmas take center stage. The Prime Directive is as meaningful to me as most actual religious doctrine. If it doesn’t align with the Federation’s highest ideals, do I even need it? (Probably not.)
2. If I started watching TNG in 1988 (in syndication after school), it was very much part of my queer awakening.
Some people have Xena, some have Sailor Moon, but TNG was absolutely part of my queer origin story. The uniforms? The power dynamics? The casual androgyny of space fashion? It’s all there. I just didn’t have the vocabulary for it yet.
3. Troi and Riker are proof of my bisexuality.
I wanted both of them then. I want both of them now. Watching them together—especially in those early episodes with all that barely repressed longing—was my first clue that I wasn’t just admiring their chemistry; I wanted in on it. Jonathan Frakes and Marina Sirtis were both serving, and my little bi heart was taking notes.
4. The women of ‘Angel One’ are my catnip.
Look, I’m not saying that an entire planet run by statuesque, dominant women did something to me at a young age, but I am saying I probably should’ve questioned my obsession with this episode a lot sooner. The hair! The attitude! The height difference! Angel One walked so that my sapphic love for authority figures could run.
5. Q is my idea of the ideal man.
What can I say? He’s omnipotent, chaotic, and obsessed with Picard. I’m not asking for much in life—just a playful godlike being who keeps me on my toes while questioning my moral fiber. John de Lancie, call me.
6. TNG Season 1 was pushing gender neutrality before it was cool.
A lot of men wore dresses in Season 1. The skant—that short-skirt uniform Troi rocked before trading it in for a cleavage-heavy jumpsuit—was actually designed as a gender-neutral uniform, worn by men and women alike. TNG was serving futuristic fashion with a side of equality, and for a brief, shining moment, it looked like the 24th century had moved past pointless gender norms. But by Season 2, the skants mysteriously disappeared, and Troi was sentenced to a lifetime of impractical space lingerie. A real tragedy—for feminism and comfort.
And then there were the Bynars. "11001001" introduced a species that exists in binary pairs but has no gender. They are literally nonbinary. In 1988. Roddenberry wasn’t just dreaming up cool tech—he was planting ideas about identity that were way ahead of their time. We’re still catching up to TNG in so many ways, and honestly? We should be taking notes.
7. I love Wil Wheaton and cannot wait for him to grow up.
Little Wesley Crusher, bless his heart, is trying so hard. And honestly? I respect that. But I’m also watching this knowing that one day, Wil Wheaton will be an incredible, self-aware adult who embraces his nerdiness, and that makes it all worth it.
8. We are all ugly bags of mostly water.
If nothing else, TNG reminds me that we’re all just weird little meat sacks navigating space and time, making questionable decisions and hoping for the best. And honestly? That’s kind of beautiful.
Bonus: TNG made me the writer I am today.
If I’m any good at what I do, it’s because of the writers of this series. The storytelling in TNG shaped my understanding of character arcs, ensemble casts, and the slow-burn brilliance of a well-placed callback. The way these writers built worlds and tackled ethical dilemmas with heart and humor? That’s the gold standard.
Rewatching TNG is like coming home. It’s warm, familiar, and full of existential dread in the best way possible. It shaped me in ways I never fully appreciated until now, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything—except, maybe, a one-way ticket to Angel One. 🚀
