Last Thursday night, ABC officially cancelled Marvel’s Agent Carter.
When my friend texted to tell me the news, not only was I sad, but I was angry. We’d talked not the night before about how much we hoped the show wouldn’t get cancelled.
So now I sit here with a low-simmering rage, trying to get my thoughts together. But the only thing I can think of is how wronged I feel.
I could list you a thousand reasons why I’ll miss Agent Carter. I’ll never get to find out what happened to Jack, or if Sousa becomes Peggy’s husband. I’ll never see her found S.H.I.E.L.D. or finally, finally be truly at peace. I’ll never watch her shut down Stark with a single quip, or else watch her banter with Jarvis and become best friends with Ana. I’ll never get to find out what happens to Rose or Angie, or if Dottie gets captured, or find out if Whitney Frost becomes Madame Masque.
And all of those things are true. Agent Carter is my favourite show. I would wake up excited every Tuesday because that meant another episode and more of one of my all-time favourite characters.
But this anger, this wronged-ness, is about so much more than that.
I’m angry because Agent Carter gave me something I’d never seen before. Because it gave me a lead character who I could idolise and relate to at the same time, because it gave me two love interests—a black man and a disabled man—from a time period where neither were seen as appealing. Because I finally had a strong female character who was real and human and someone I could imagine walking down the street. I’m angry because this show gave me someone who cried and loved and broke and was just as strong as she was when she was laughing, because Peggy Carter had flaws and she made the wrong decision sometimes and no one thought any less of her.
I’m angry because Agent Carter was one of the most diverse, most feminist and best-written shows I’ve ever come across, and now it’s gone. And it leaves a void I’m not sure can be filled.
I’m not going to go off on a tirade about how TV sucks these days. I’m not going to point fingers at other shows and say, why is this here when Agent Carter isn’t? Because that’s not the point. The point is that us fans have lost something beautiful, something bigger than all of us that can’t ever be fully replicated. And if that doesn’t make you angry, I don’t know what will.
There’s a petition going around right now to get Netflix to pick up Agent Carter. At last count, it has over 50,000 signatures and has been re-tweeted by Chad Michael Murray (AKA Jack Thompson). I’ve signed it, and I invite you to sign it, too. Because maybe we can’t change anything, but we can sure as hell try.
But for now, farewell, Agent Carter. You’re sure going to be missed.