A couple of weeks ago, in an interview published by Elle UK, incoming Doctor Ncuti Gatwa referred to himself as queer. Or, to be more precise, referred to someone he met at a Pride event as “another queer Rwandan person.” We already knew that Ncuti was breaking new ground in Doctor Who in terms of racial representation, but this new perspective on what Ncuti brings to the lead role is even more thrilling. We get to have a queer Doctor.

Granted, the character may or may not express that aspect of identity. Obviously, I personally would love to see them do so, but even if they don’t (aside from the non-binary pronouns Ncuti consistently uses when referring to the Doctor), merely having a queer actor in the role will affect how the character is presented. Just as much as every viewer brings their own perspective (and baggage) to a story, so do the artists portraying the various characters bring something of themselves to a performance.

Of course, as always, much of how it all plays out on screen is down to the writers of the various episodes. There is only so much any one artist can do with what they’re given on the page (as we’ve seen often enough in the past, with Elisabeth Sladen and Colin Baker being some of the most prominent examples)—as the old saw in computing goes, “garbage in, garbage out.”

But it’s actually fairly rare that I would consider a modern Doctor Who script be worthy of such an epithet. Further, I am optimistic that the recent overall trend of bringing in more diverse scriptwriters will continue, which in turn will give Ncuti and his fellow artists more to work with. I think there is a very good chance that there are plenty of good stories on their way.

Even so, I need to contain my excitement and temper my expectations. Just as Jodie could not represent every woman out there when she became the Doctor, neither can Ncuti be the “one true” non-white person or the “one true” queer person. We need more stories both created by and about a wider cross-section of humanity for this very reason.

Since we’re used to seeing a wide range of white, heterosexual, cisgender male characters on our screens, we don’t automatically assume that either a lawful-good hero or a chaotic-evil villain (or any type in between) represents the whole of that demographic. How can one character possibly be, or one actor possibly portray, the entirety of any demographic? People are complex, messy creatures, and more than anything I hope that our first queer Doctor continues to be that kind of fabulously complicated, quirky mess of a person. That is, after all, a big part of why we love them.

Every time we have a long dry spell between new episodes (which, let’s face it, is pretty much constantly the last five years or so), I find my mind wandering away from Doctor Who (as I previously outlined in great detail)—and I’m sure I’m not alone. And yet, when I do have the chance to watch again, even if it’s not new content, I find myself getting sucked back in.

For instance, as I started re-watching Series 4, I got all caught up in memories of my first experience with the series (the beginning of my fandom). Now I’m full of anticipation for the next installment—at least when I stop to think about it. Truthfully, my mind is full of all sorts of other things right now (aging parents, maturing children, various other sources of entertainment…), but given a moment’s mindshare, Doctor Who can still capture my attention.

That’s why I think it’s safe to say that I’m still a fangirl. Even though those moments when I’m drawn back into the Doctor’s world have been few and far between, the reentry is both rapid and natural. It’s one of those feelings of homecoming one gets, a comfortable mental or emotional state, when settling back into a frame of mind is like kicking off your shoes when you get home.

Similarly, when I think about the opportunity to meet up with friends and talk about all aspects of the show, and even to meet new-to-me cast and crew, I get a rush of energy and excitement. (Only another month or so until Gallifrey One starts announcing their first batch of guests for 2024…) The love I have for the show that forms the basis of my fandom is clearly still present. I doubt anything will ever be able to take that away entirely, even if (powers-that-be forfend) Doctor Who itself ever went away again.

And, of course, it never really will. Even should the televised show eventually face another cancellation, spinoff media of one sort or another will endure—I mean, whatever else, there will always be fanfic! The vast possibilities provided by the framework of the Doctor and their TARDIS traveling through time and space will spark the imaginations of fans for years and years to come. Whatever may happen to the formal franchise itself, fandom will remain.

That’s why, no matter how my interest waxes and wanes (as do new episodes), I will forever be a fangirl. I don’t care what others think of someone my age who claims that identity. It’s a label I’ll happily wear for the rest of my life.

I made the mistake, as I was trying to decide what to write about this month, of searching for Doctor Who news (I really ought to know better by now). Luckily, the headlines that came up weren’t anything super revealing, especially for someone like me who knows pretty much nothing about British celebrities. However, it reminded me of how much I hate spoilers.

Long-time readers will be unsurprised by that statement; I’ve often talked about not wanting to know story details before I watch. Even casting news (despite my aforementioned cluelessness re: name-brand actors) often makes me twitchy. Official trailers are about the extent of foreknowledge I’m willing to accept.

Of course, that’s not a universal preference of mine. My spoilerphobia centers primarily on narratives, so I will sometimes go quite the opposite direction if it concerns something with a predetermined outcome, e.g., a sporting event that’s already ended.

For example, I’ve recently been watching a couple of K-pop survival shows (that is, competitions with eliminations) with a friend. For the first one, as with Doctor Who, I steadfastly avoided anything online that would’ve told me ahead of time which trainees got cut (thus breaking my heart when certain favorites didn’t get to move on). The finale aired mere hours before we could watch together. While my friend went ahead and looked at the results, I went in knowing nothing, and thus went through the same elation / heartbreak cycle as the live audience did.