Dexter Is A Thinker

I admit I really can't appreciate the violent scenes in Dexter and routinely close my eyes or look out the window prior to the action. I'm also aware of the conundrum I experience internally when I think through the concept of using free time to blog about a television character who kills people. It appears upon first thought to be a bizarre misuse of my time, and perhaps even repulsively opposed to who I am. But on second thought, this is exactly why the show captivates an international audience: it drops a deluge of human paradox and moral ambiguity in front of the viewer's eyes and then cues the ears of everyone watching to tune in to their own personal dilemmas through Dexter's narration.

In the first season, the writers did an excellent job filling us in on who Dexter is and how he sees himself. He shares that he is a "neat monster," as well as empty and damaged, and that something mysterious has "left a hollow place inside." There are scenes where he watches himself as an outside observer of his own life and believes life must be pretty easy for others, who are likely not having to fake their emotional responses to loved ones.

But this is the part that is so obviously human for all of us. There are days when I definitely use unkind words to describe myself and moments I've wanted to stand on something tangible while sensing that empty ache in the center of my solar plexus. And like most people who have been conditioned by the rugged individualism of the American boots-on mentality, I'm convinced that whatever is happening in my solar plexus is my own mess. Surely everyone else is skipping boundlessly into their morning showers with a twinkle-y song and a renewed fervor for returning to the office. When tough moments have passed I realize I've undergone a normal human process, but by then it's too murky to call back for a replay with friends. I'd rather move on. So aside from watching beautiful people on the screen, such as Michael C. Hall and Jennifer Carpenter, who play siblings on the show and are married in real life, I'm able to see parts of my own experience unfolding through Dexter as he exposes his keen observations.

As a way to support his pathological tendencies, Dexter shares early on that he doesn't understand emotion and hence has a difficult time faking it. (Never mind that emotion is a subjective phenomena, and not something we can necessarily cognitively "understand" in the moment it occurs.) But the show's set-up was certainly well-done, because anyone with half a neuron knows that sociopaths aren't accessing the full scale of human emotions. However, I'm pretty convinced that at least in American culture, a lot of us are living almost exclusively in our heads and lack practice (not the ability) with feeling a wider range of our personal pangs and joys. Maybe we don't go to the extent that Dexter must, and copy a dramatist's words verbatim to propose marriage, but our culture does espouse the academic, logical, and assessment-oriented style over all others. Our conditioning around being good thinkers is so saturated into our lives that it helps to stop and ask what your social norming has promised you in the first place. What are you gaining by being cut-off from your emotional life? The perception of control, success, or strength? You're likely convinced that stopping for even one moment to experience a feeling or a stillness would be a waste of time, or pointless...or terrifying.

If you said terrifying, then you're not as identified with your mental schemata as most Americans. You know somewhere inside of you something volcanic and uncontrollable could rupture, and then what would happen? Isn't this exactly why Dexter is married to a code instead of the experience of life? No wonder this show has the audience hooked. We might not be murderers, but many of us are clearly committed to keeping emotion captive.