Call me a nerd, but I’m a sucker for a good biographic TV series. I am fully aware that this is an unpopular opinion. Why watch Pablo Escobar and his cronies pump some guys full of lead on “Narcos” when you can just skim a Wikipedia article on the man and stream something else on Netflix? Biographic series are too elaborate and overdone, tending towards the dramatic as a way of compensating for predictability, regurgitating your history textbook in television format.

The final episodes of “MLK/X,” which dropped on Feb. 23, marked the ending of the fourth season of National Geographic’s “Genius” series, and when I sat down to watch the show, I assumed that it would, true to genre, be predictable. However, I was pleasantly surprised. The miniseries, starring Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Martin Luther King and Aaron Pierre as Malcolm X, isn’t as much of a biographic series as it is exploration of an often overlooked element of their stories: their relationships with their wives.

The story starts in Boston, Mass, where Coretta Scott King (Weruche Opia,) is set up on a blind date with Boston University doctoral student Martin Luther King. In Harlem, Nation of Islam (NOI) minister Malcolm X spots Betty X (Jayme Lawson) after one of his speeches and strikes up a conversation. As MLK and Malcolm X ascend to the heights of public consciousness, winning accolades and causing controversy, Scott King and Betty X provide counsel, push back on their husbands when needed and are like the anchors tying their ships to shore.

Now, it’s worth noting that the phrase “behind every great man is a great woman” is pretty patriarchal, implying that the only greatness a woman can aspire to is domestic excellence, forced out of the spotlight. That said, both Scott King and Betty X were incredible and powerful women in their own right, shaping the civil rights movement from behind the scenes. Opia depicts Scott King as a motivated student at the New England Conservatory, cheer-worthy as she refuses MLK’s first marriage proposal and cites aspirations of becoming an opera singer. Meanwhile, Lawson presents Betty X as a witty, self-possessed nurse-in-training. The series shows that both women have lives of their own before meeting their future husbands, and it’s initially thrilling to see both women depicted as individuals, fleshed out with their own passions, thoughts and ideas.

The only things holding them back, however, are their husbands. It’s interesting to see how the series shows Malcolm X and King (both progressive, forward-thinking men) struggling with their wives’ ambitions. While not necessarily shocking, it’s disappointing and frustrating to watch both men cling onto misogynistic attitudes. Hosting a dinner party with NOI leader Elijah Muhammad in attendance, Betty X tries to ask for a loan to fix up their dilapidated, NOI-provided residence, only to be sharply shut down by a stressed-out, eager-to-please Malcolm X. Meanwhile, Scott King pushes for a more direct role in the civil rights movement, only to be relegated to the sidelines as the “first lady” to King’s “president.” Both instances allow for the viewer to see that, although important Americans who made significant contributions to the fight for equality, King and Malcolm X definitely weren’t perfect.

Harrison Jr. and Pierre are excellent in conveying the incredible stress both figures are under as civil rights leaders, and we can go on and on about the amount of things King and Malcolm X sacrificed in their roles; their jobs, their safety, even their lives. What’s rarely talked about, though, is the emotional labor that takes a toll on both women, which is only alluded to in the show. They have to bear the brunt of their husband’s stress, anger and negativity, while raising their children alone. The worst bit is that they can’t necessarily speak up about it or divorce their husbands after it gets to be too much, lest they risk delegitimizing the civil rights effort. “I signed up for this,” Scott King comments after a tense dinner table discussion with her husband, when it’s implied that he’s been cheating on her. She shouldn’t have to and neither should Betty X. Unfortunately, this isn’t necessarily the conclusion you reach when watching the show; while King and Malcolm X die on good terms with both Scott King and Betty X respectively, it’s hard to ignore all that the men put them through.

Despite this somber note, the show ends off on a more empowering note. While both women are tasked with being conservators of their husband’s legacies, that doesn’t mean that they toe the lines they’re supposed to as widows. When the women finally meet each other to speak at the National Black Convention in 1972, they’re radically different women than they originally were, refusing to seclude themselves from the limelight. Scott King dons a pantsuit when all we’ve ever seen her in throughout the series are dresses and skirts (a subtle touch by part of the costume department), speaking out on issues like the Vietnam War; Betty X pursues a doctorate. And as they laugh and hold hands, you can’t help but feel heartened that, despite being diminished in the historical record, the series attempts to rectify this by giving these great women their due. Amen to that.