Happy Valley’s Catherine Cawood: From Unsung Hero to New Archetype

I shouldn’t say Catherine Cawood, the heroine of the BBC/Netflix series Happy Valley, is unsung, because literally she is sung in the opening theme song - “In this trouble town/trouble I’ve found.” written and sung by Jake Bugg. Maybe I’m old, but if you take the time to find Jake Bugg, he seems incredibly young; his youth and plaintive voice just make the words more poignant.

I want to talk about Catherine and the other characters in Happy Valley as characters, even real people, not as actors in a show, though, in order to talk about the show at all, I have to identify it. I want to talk about Catherine as we experience her.

When we first see Catherine in the opening scene, she is trying to talk down a despondent young fellow about to light himself on fire – “I’m Catherine by the way. I’m 47, divorced, I live with my sister who’s a recovering heroin addict. I have two grown up children; one dead and one who doesn’t speak to me, and a grandson. So… It’s complicated. Let’s talk about you.”

Catherine’s younger sister, Clare is Catherine’s caregiver. Clare is really the only one who reaches out to help Catherine. To hear Clare tell it, she looks to Catherine who “has been taking care of everyone” since Clare was 13 and Catherine was 15, when their father and mother died.

Clare does the cooking and housework, while Catherine fights crime. Clare also volunteers at a local mission. Catherine’s grandson, Ryan is a handful, often getting into trouble at school. Ryan is the child of the rape of Catherine’s daughter, who hung herself soon after his birth. Catherine is still mourning her. The rapist, Tommy Lee Royce is just out of prison for drug dealing, not for the rape. Catherine, and Happy Valley, are about to endure more pain and suffering at his hands. As it is, Catherine finds only one thing to be too hard for her – to remain happy for more than a few moments.

Have you ever seen a burned out woman weep? She sobs for three seconds, then she’s done. Just enough to let the pressure out.

That’s how Catherine Cawood cries. Not for herself, mind you, but out of frustration at not being able to help a victim.

I know that Catherine Cawood is more than a hero, more than a role model. If I had to search for a word, I would say, Catherine Cawood is a new archetype. But, an archetype of what? I want to say matriarch.

I will say matriarch. I don’t know if the producers of Happy Valley will find the term sufficiently sexy. Catherine is definitely sexy. Her blonde hair is tousled, though an attempt has been made to tie it neatly back. Her face is just barely hanging on to pretty. Her figure appears tall and full, long-legged. She’s indulging herself in a secret affair with her ex-husband. Attractive men from her past seem to react sexually to her presence, getting somewhat nervous and awkward when they speak to her up close.

Catherine strikes me as a kind of Amazonian Matriarch. Natural and powerful. When I watch her, I don’t get distracted by false eyelashes, ridiculously tight leather pants or voluminous hair extensions. When I watch Catherine Cawood, I think about what she is thinking.

Catherine is not a detective. She is a soldier. Not a foot soldier, a sergeant. We never see her posing with her gun because Catherine doesn’t carry a gun. She is armed only with her intelligence, her bravery, her strength, and, oddly, her vulnerability – oh, and a stick, a torch and a spray. She doesn’t want to be a detective because she doesn’t want to sit behind a desk, or leave the action of the street. I believe she wants, hands on, to take care of the people.

Catherine should be Queen.

Catherine is a good listener. She listens to everyone. She knows the truth can come from any random source, and usually does. Her sister has broken a case, her son has. Information has come to Catherine from all sides, and she has listened. And seen the connection. I love that about Catherine – that she can see connections where others can’t, usually her superiors. But, she isn’t rogue. And, man, is she quick! Tell her a thing once, and she’s off! Whether the culprit is a drunk police official in a traffic accident or a drug-dealer on an ice cream truck, Catherine doesn’t mind looking foolish or taking a beating. When she’s not in her uniform, Catherine tends to slouch. She’s not graceful, she’s a bit awkward, stumbling a lot, head down, watch cap, natty scarf, down jacket; Catherine holds her head up when she’s in her uniform. Her aging face is beautiful. But, she’s, to coin a phrase, “beat up.” Quite literally. When she appears at a party with a shiner, she mumbles proudly, “It’s just work.”

While Catherine is not unsung, she does remind me of all the everyday, unsung heroes: the nurse who delivered my daughter when the doctor refused to come down because a first time mother “couldn’t be ready yet”; the EMT who leaned over my wounded, bleeding husband and told me, “You have to be strong now. He needs you to be strong.” probably recognizing that I was about to cave, that I’d always relied on him for strength, just by one glance in my direction, she summed me up. Those are just two I heroes know of, two out of all the millions of women who do their job every day and night, helping people, saving lives, giving courage by grace of their own courage.

Catherine is not a superhero. She has no superpowers. She does not fly through the air, nor breath fire, or change the weather. She’d probably get a kick out of it, if she could.

But, Catherine is more than an everyday hero. She is an archetype. An ideal. In a way, she does have superpowers – her intelligence, bravery, strength, vulnerability, all mentioned before – and, her endurance. If she’s knocked down, and she’s been knocked down plenty, she just keeps getting up again.

Catherine also reminds me of the female Boston Irish cabdriver, who made an offhand remark that became famous while she remained anonymous, “Oh, honey, if men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament.” She declared this homage one night in the turbulent ‘60s, to her passengers, who happened to be Gloria Steinem and Fay Kennedy.

Catherine is capable of making such a remark, and forgetting it the next instant because she’s on to something else, something equally earth-shattering.

“What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?

The world would split open.”  Muriel Rukeyser

I worship Catherine Cawood. If she knew me, she’d have none of it, for Catherine does not suffer fools, nor does she think very highly of herself. She’d say, “I’m just doin’ me job.” But, since watching Happy Valley, Season 2, I am in awe of her.

Here’s a wonderful exchange between Ann Gallagher and Catherine Cawood:

Ann: “I know I’m pissed [Pissed is Brit for drunk], but, do you know what I think God is? I think God is like this collective goodness that’s in all of us. In someone like you. It’s like you have so much of this goodness. This bigness. It’s like you embody what God is.”

Catherine: “Omnipotent and ubiquitous. God, I’m good.”

Ann and Catherine have a deep relationship, not a sexual relationship, more like the deep bond that arises between two soldiers in combat. I cannot elaborate further without giving away the story, but Ann has very good reason to feel the way she does about Catherine, and Catherine, about her.

Yes, I am in awe. I am transfixed by Catherine’s blue eyes, at the end of the last episode, gazing off into the future thinking, what? What is she thinking? Is she thinking about possibly killing her grandson, the one who broke up her marriage, drove her daughter to commit suicide, the kid whose dad is a deviant criminal still powerful and manipulating from his prison cell? Will she have to do what she just discovered her friend had had to do, assassinate her own flesh and blood because he turned out, finally, despite all her love and care and teaching, to be a monster like his father? Is that what she’s thinking?

Season 3. Please, Season 3.

©Patricia Goodwin, 2016

Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, about Marblehead legends and true crime and its sequel, Dreamwater, about the Salem witch trials and the vicious 11-year-old pirate Ned Low. Holy Days is her third novel, about the sexual, psychological seduction of Gloria Wisher and her subsequent transformation.

Raped By Her Dream

The Rape

Edgar Degas (1869)

In the Oscar nominated documentary, The Invisible War, by Filmmaker Kirby Dick, Kori Cioca (U.S. Coast Guard), Jessica Hinves (U.S. Air Force), Robin Lynne LaFayette (U.S. Air Force), Lt. Ariana Klay (U.S. Marine Corps, Marine Barracks Washington), Trina McDonald, (U.S. Navy) Lt. Elle Helmer (U.S. Marines Corp, Marine Barracks Washington), Hannah Sewell (U.S. Navy) talk about their dream to join the United States military for many different reasons: wanting to be the best they could be, wanting to be a part of something bigger, wanting to see the world, or wanting to continue a long family tradition of military, which for one woman, Lt. Elle Helmer, went all the way back to the Revolutionary War. All of the women expressed noble reasons for serving their country.

Kori Cioca said she would have repeated basic training over and over because she just loved it. Each woman echoed how much the experience of training meant to them: comaradie is mentioned, challenge, discipline, professionalism, doing the job well, kudos from officers, awards, leaderships positions, achieving great physical and mental prowess, keeping up with the guys and working just as hard as they did, all these accomplishments were exciting to the female recruits who looked forward to their service with eagerness.

And then – reality. 

Stationed in Alaska with ten men, Trina McDonald was the only woman. Trina was raped repeatedly. She said she felt “like a piece of meat on a slab.” Kori Cioca was raped by her so-called “superior.” Her jaw was so damaged in the attack that now she cannot open her mouth to chew. She must eat only soft foods. She cannot go outside in winter without her jaw seizing up in the cold. The other women have similar stories. Hannah Sewell was a virgin before her attack. Her back was injured during the rape and now she has trouble walking. Walking. Lee Le Teff (U.S. Army) had a loaded gun put to her head. One woman (U.S. Army Medical Corps) contracted two STD’s and became pregnant from her rape. Two were accused of adultery, though neither woman was married – their rapists were. (This struck me as very Victorian, reminding me of another film, The Crimson Petal and The White, in which a governess is given her marching papers for getting pregnant with her employer’s child.) In The Invisible War, only one man spoke of being raped, but more men are raped in the military than women.

According to the film, the estimated number of women who have been sexually assaulted in the military is 500,000.

Soldiers might expect to be raped by the enemy if captured during combat, but they do NOT expect to be raped by their fellow soldiers, by their friends, by their commanders - or by their dream.

Harsh reality –

The estimated number is 500,000 - 80% do not report because of the extreme retaliation that comes with reporting.

Rapists are being protected, not victims. A Steubenville Rape Culture prevails. Across every branch of the military, victims are told to be quiet by military officials whom they approach to help them prosecute the crimes against them. Commanders are reluctant to report a rape in their section because they will be seen as unable to command, and they will be reprimanded and fail to advance in their careers. Some of the rapists mentioned in the film were decorated and promoted – let’s be clear, not for rape, but for other wonderful, macho achievements, I’m sure. Rape victims who wanted to report, meanwhile, were told that if they wished to file a report, they could lose their rank.  According to the film, “In units where sexual harassment is tolerated, incidents of rape TRIPLE.”

In the film, Atty. Susan Burke said. “What we hear again and again from soldiers who have been raped is that as bad as it was being raped, what was as bad, if not worse, was to receive professional retaliation in their chosen career, merely because they were raped.”

In other words, raped by their dream.

Brigadier General Loree Sutton went on to say, “Losing even one soldier needlessly because of military sexual trauma is one too many.” All of the women in the film said they would never allow their daughters to join the military, and if that is the goal of the military to get rid of women then why are the rapists also raping men?

Who do you want in your military? Rapists? Or good soldiers? Aren’t we losing good soldiers when men and women must leave the service because of injuries incurred during rape? What happened to nobility? True nobility. Nobility of heart, mind and body.

Apparently, rapists are also JOINING the armed forces. Again, according to The Invisible War, a recent Navy study found that 15% of incoming recruits attempted or committed rape before entering the military, twice the percentage of the equivalent civilian population. Psychiatrist Brigadier General Loree Sutton (Ret. U.S. Army) said in the film, “Particularly for a savvy perpetrator, to work within a relatively closed system like the military, it becomes a prime target-rich environment for a predator.” These rapists, when they leave the military, go on to commit rape in our communities, because rape is a crime that is repeated until the rapist is caught.

Who do you want in your military? Are criminal rapists good soldiers?

According to The Invisible War, in 2011, the court ruled rape to be an occupational hazard of military service. How about getting rapists OUT OF THE MILITARY?

Does the U.S. military considered rape victims to be weak? If rape victims are supposed to suck it up, then why don’t male soldiers just suck up their erections in the first place? If they have so little control, how can they call themselves soldiers? If all that aggression is supposed to be perpetrated on the enemy, then, why are they raping fellow soldiers? (Not that I agree with raping the enemy. I don’t. I think it’s beneath us. Again, nobility.) Hence, the title of the film, The Invisible War: we are at war with ourselves. Conduct unbecoming.

What does a soldier do if the military is his dream and he is raped by his dream?  What does a soldier do when the country he believes in rapes him? The men and women who told their stories in The Invisible War, now must pick up the pieces of their lives and re-invent themselves. Men and women who were devoted to serving their country in the armed services, now must find another way to serve their country and the American ideals they still have. Many have, but many are still so damaged physically and mentally that they are forced to relive the nightmare before they can heal and go forward with their lives.

Cut to civilian life -

In a 2004 New York Magazine story, Naomi Wolf describes having been sexually propositioned by her Yale thesis professor, Harold Bloom in 1983. Apparently, Bloom put his hand on her thigh and told her that she was lovely. After Naomi threw up (Have you seen Harold Bloom?), he changed his tune and told her, according to Wolf, that she was a “deeply troubled girl.” Naomi was advised to get her degree and wait to expose him. She did. If she hadn’t waited, perhaps she would have lost all that she had achieved in her field, and been raped by her dream as well. Naomi said she finally had to come forward because male entitlement at Yale still predominated the campus among professors, who considered approaching female students to be a “perk” and among the male students themselves, as in the “No Means Yes, Yes Means Anal” chant of a certain Yale fraternity. Of course, an advance is not a rape, but it is if your dream is held hostage.

            Oh, I know I’m being naïve. I know, for instance, that Marilyn Monroe was “passed around” and that “she understood this.” I know that the Catholic Church knew forever about the child rapes and took them as a matter of course. Of course. In the grand Roman tradition – Caligula’s uncle, who raised him, used to throw little slave boys over the cliff when he was done with them. I’m sure none of those slaves ever dreamt of being sex slaves, but what about all the altar boys who once believed in something? All the Catholic children – and their parents - who once believed their priest was the representative of God on earth?

            Recently, The Daily Beast reported a story on scandal at the Bolshoi Ballet. Ballerinas were being coerced into having sex with some of the wealthy and powerful men of Moscow and Paris. The Bolshoi story reminded me of Degas’ ballet dancers. When Degas painted the hall of the new Paris Opera House, he was painting a beautiful baroque hallway of chandeliers and sparkling gold scrollwork peopled by men in evening dress and female ballet dancers (nicknamed “petit rats”), a hall created for this sole purpose – for wealthy men to view the ballerinas and choose from them.

L'Etoile

Edgar Degas (1878)

            I guess I’m naïve. I’m told that theaters will always depend on wealthy patrons and that the rich will always be able to buy almost anything they want. The petit rats in Degas’ time came from poor families who could not protect them. The ballerinas of the Bolshoi who are coerced are usually chosen from the lower ranks because they are the most vulnerable to losing their positions. Will being able to dance superbly the life-demanding discipline of ballet ever be enough? Ballerinas of the BOLSHOI raped by their dream? Am I really being naïve? I guess so. I’m told that rich “patrons” mean as much to the ballerinas, who cannot dance forever, as they do to the theater. In fact, securing a rich patron can ensure a ballerina’s success. I’m told the ballerinas brag about their expensive gifts. Sounds like Stockholm Sydrome. When will dancing superbly be enough?
            May 31, 2015 UPDATE: Something I, as a victim, have always wondered about, now answered by Director Amy Berg's film, "An Open Secret" - Hollywood's secret sexual abuse of child stars.

            Recently, I saw the film Young Abe Lincoln, which portrayed Lincoln's early years as a lawyer, and yes, it was fictionalized. Sure, it was melodramatic and sentimental. I wasn’t in the mood for a black and white oldie, but I found myself drawn in by the characters, the nobility of them. Maybe I’m naïve. I’ve always been drawn to Lincoln’s self-education, which I believe in and I have done. I’m drawn to the simplicity of his life. How he was really very shy and quiet, but was encouraged all the time by the needs of the community to get up and speak, to take a leadership role. I found myself laughing outrageously in some places, and sobbing in others. Particularly at the very end, when young Abe, reluctant once again to take the mic, walked up to the podium and morphed into the statue of himself in Washington. He’s still there.

What would you do in his presence? Would you rape your fellow soldier? I’m pretty sure Lincoln could have watched and appreciated a ballet without trying to get a little from the exquisite ballerinas. I'm sure he could have enjoyed a TV show without fantasizing about the child star. Maybe I’m just naïve.

©Patricia Goodwin 2013
Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, about Marblehead legends and true crime and its sequel, Dreamwater, about the Salem witch trials and the vicious 11-year-old pirate Ned Low. Holy Days is her third novel, about the sexual, psychological seduction of Gloria Wisher and her subsequent transformation. Her newest poetry books are Telling Time By Apples, And Other Poems About Life On The Remnants of Olde Humphrey Farme, illustrated by the author, and Java Love: Poems of a Coffeehouse.