We’re through the first full weekend of March Madness and, boy, did my brackets take a beating. I’ve never seen Game of Thrones but, based on what I’ve heard, my men’s bracket probably looks a lot like the Red Wedding. Two of my Final Four picks? Already gone. Only three of my Elite 8 picks have survived. I only guess six of the 16 teams remaining in the field correct?
On the women’s side, things are a little better but just slightly. I was sitting pretty through the first day of the tournament — since all the favorites won — but on the second day, there were some unexpected upsets. Out goes Gonzaga, out goes Rutgers. I don’t even know where Wright State is but they pulled off a miraculous upset of Arkansas. And I’m still fuming about the one upset that wasn’t: Troy should’ve beaten Texas A&M. Fingers crossed that today’s tournament action doesn’t eliminate too many of my picks.
But what about Autostraddle’s March Madness? Well, we’ve still got a few hours left for readers to cast their ballots in the Classic region. Once that voting is complete, I’ll update the bracket and see how everyone did in our bracket challenge. But if you’ve already voted for your favorite classic shows, now you can turn your attention to the GROWN sub-region.
In the spirit of continuing to make Autostraddle March Madness more interactive, I’ve reached out to some fanfic writers to offer their thoughts on what makes their favorite subjects worth shipping. If their ships advance, you’ll hear more from those writers as the tournament progresses. (If you’re a fanfic writer who’d like to advocate for your favorite ‘ship, let me know.)
The first time Emma spots Nico, she’s so wrapped up in herself that she doesn’t recognize that Nico’s not the bartender at the wedding she’s attending. She asks for a drink, turns her attention back to her phone and then slaps down a tip after Nico slides the pre-made drink towards her. But by Vida‘s end, Emma sees Nico as clearly as she ever has…and, honestly, she doesn’t want to see anyone else. She does the unthinkable (for Emma): gives up her penchant for meticulously planning everything and just exist, with Nico and no plans.
Alice has always thought of herself as an “outside the box” queer lady — eschewing all the heteronormative standards that other queers took comfort in — but then she met Nat. Somewhere between the burnt eggs and puke-filled crockpot, the dream of a wife, 2.5 kids and a house with a yard became the thing she longed for…a fact she didn’t realize fully until the dream nearly got snatched away. She bent over backwards trying to cement her love affair with Nat — including a throupling that went all the way wrong — but, in the end, all Nat wanted was Alice.
“I love you. I am in love with you,” Nat confesses. “And I feel like my complete and total self when I’m with you. And you make me laugh. Even when I’m mad, which is so f*cking annoying, but it makes me love you even more.”
The first time JR kisses Petra — in “real life” not just in Petra’s dreams — Petra’s there to confront JR about her shifting allegiances. Convinced she’s being followed, JR pulls Petra into a kiss before she can get any words out…and it’s enough for Petra to forget why she was there in the first place. Once they’re in JR’s car, Petra collects herself just long enough to interrogate JR’s loyalties but when JR takes her hand and gently caresses her knuckles, Petra forgets that it’s all a rouse. But, later that night, the rouse becomes real…realer than anything that Petra Solano had ever known.
“I love you,” Petra confesses. “And I used to think my worst nightmare was turning into my mother; now I know it’s living without you.”
When it comes time to introduce Captain Holt and her new girlfriend, Jocelyn, Rosa’s a bit reluctant. Holt has a penchant for being a little judgmental, after all, but he’s so hurt by her declined invitation, she hires an actress to play her girlfriend instead. Naturally, the whole thing blows up in her face. But Rosa was never worried that Holt would be too judgmental — he’s hilarious when he’s judgy — she was just worried that Holt wasn’t going to like her…and, she really wants Holt to like Jocelyn because she really likes her.
As if being the test dummy for all Jocelyn’s cosmetology school projects wasn’t proof enough of that.
Callie’s in the bathroom at Joe’s, crying, when Seattle Grace’s new paeds doctor finds her. People have been talking, Arizona tells her, and the talk is good…when Callie’s ready, she’ll have a long line of people, just waiting for her. Like who, Callie asks dismissively, and Arizona moves in close.
As Carmen would describe it later,“She let their breath mingle together. She swept in for the kiss that launched one of the greatest queer love stories on network television. Seven seasons of laughter and dance parties and break ups and divorces and pain, but more than all of that, love. Undying love. It all started right there, underneath the busted out lights of a dirty bar bathroom.”
Nearly everything about Rose is a lie. She’s a lawyer and a socialite, married to hotel magnate Emilio Solano…and, of course, in her spare time she moonlights as the notorious drug lord, Sin Rostro. But every now and then, she allows herself a bit of truth…and the truest thing about Rose Solano is that she loves Luisa more than anything. After all, theirs was “the greatest love story ever told.”
Through out Jane the Virgin‘s run, there was a sense that Luisa would give up everything — including her health, sobriety and family — for Rose…and that’s true…but it’s also worth noting that every time that Rose could’ve escaped…every time she could’ve used someone else’s face to start a new life for herself, she resisted. Freedom without the woman she loved wasn’t freedom at all.
Am I going to pretend, for the sake of this contest (and my personal sanity), that Season 4’s harsh re-write of Kat and Adena’s relationship doesn’t exist? Yes, I absolutely am. Let it exist in the same mythic space that keeps Season 6 of The L Word and all of Skins Fire far, far away from the minds of queer women everywhere. Instead, I want to encourage you to recall Kat’s bravery the night she shows up at Adena’s door and tells her that she really, really likes her.
Or better yet, remember that night in the airport…that night, where for 14 hours, this airport become a world of their own making…a world where no draconian immigration policies will separate them. Remember how they breathed each other in and created a sense of permanence for each other that could survive anything.
Riese’s words about the couple, post-season one, capture their allure the best:
I think one of the most thrilling parts of watching television is when you THINK you’re picking up on some chemistry but you’re not sure if it’s intentional and then… suddenly, it is! Sophie and Finley were the only match-up we didn’t see coming…and also turned out to be the one with the most genuine chemistry and intimacy behind it. I never would’ve imagined these two together from the first few episodes but retroactively it makes perfect sense, much like Alice and Dana did in the first season of the original series. These two are happiest and most themselves when they’re together and are incredibly adept at providing emotional support to each other in ways other partners have been unable to.
From the TV Team’s 2018 opus which may have inspired this bracket competition in the first place, MAKE IT GAY, YOU COWARDS:
Sometimes when you unwittingly end up shipping non-canon couples and you talk about it publicly, people (read: the straights) start to look at you strangely. It’s not their fault really, they haven’t spent a lifetime mining subtext for some inkling of representation so, of course, they don’t get it. But, if you bring up the fact that Olivia Margaret Benson of SVU should be gay and that she and the love of her life Alexandra Cabot should be building a family together, even the straights are like, “you right.”
EVEN THE STRAIGHTS CAN SEE IT!
Also, if NBC thought that they could steer me away from this very firm belief by adding an canon queer female character to the show?! Think again.
There’s an energy that radiates off Dani when she’s around Bette Porter. Part of it’s admiration…when she tells Pierce how inspiring Bette is, she actually does mean it. She’s worked for so long in a world that valued money above all other things that seeing someone who isn’t motivated by that — who genuinely wants to work for the least of these — is intoxicating.
But when she says, “I’ve never felt like that about anyone before,” she’s not just talking about her admiration for Bette…she’s talking about something more. She wants Bette and, after the campaign, that energy radiating off Dani is 100% thirst.
In Killing Eve‘s first season finale, Eve breaks into Villanelle’s Parisian apartment. When she’s caught, Eve pulls out a gun and points it in Villanelle’s direction.
“What are you going to do with that?” Villanelle asks.
“I’m going to kill you,” Eve answers tentatively.
“No, you’re not,” Villanelle answers dismissively. “You like me too much.”
She’s right, of course, Eve does like her too much — she’s obsessed with her, in fact — and Villanelle admits that Eve’s the center of her masturbatory fantasies. Why then, do I consider Eve and Villanelle fanon? Because, given the chance to consummate their mutual fantasies, Eve instead plunges a knife into her gut.
For a definitive answer about the Janequeline ship, I reached out to Tati (AKA superkitten), the writer behind one of the most celebrated Jacqueline/Jane fics in the fandom. She started shipping the pair just “2 minutes and 13 seconds into the pilot.”
“That’s when we got the slo-mo scene of Jane staring into Jacqueline’s office, her mouth falling open at the sight of Jacqueline’s red shoe-clad feet resting atop her desk, to the sound of Leon Else’s “Black Car.’ A few moments later, we saw their eyes meet across the room when Jacqueline arrived for a meeting. The charge between them was electric, it hit me like a freight train,” Tati wrote.
She rightly points out — and this is something the TV Team talks about all the time — if Jacqueline Carlyle were Jack Carlyle, the couple would have “an official ship name and think pieces would spring up everywhere discussing the possible implications of a relationship between a young writer and her superior in the workplace.”
In their 200th episode, Criminal Minds puts Jennifer “JJ” Jareau through it: she’s kidnapped, beaten and tortured. At one part, she starts to hallucinate…and she doesn’t hallucinate about her husband or the men on the team coming to save her…she dreams of Emily Prentiss. Emily hadn’t been a part of the show for 38 episodes — she’d moved to London to work for Interpol — but still, Emily was person JJ’s subsconscious imagined.
Outside, JJ’s team is searching for her and call Emily in for her assistance…of course, Emily races back to the States on an Interpol jet. When they finally get to JJ, still handcuffed to the ceiling, JJ just says, “Emily, I knew they’d call you. I knew it.”
Yotoob is the writer behind two of the most trafficked Debbie/Ruth fanfic in the G.L.O.W. fandom so they seemed like the best source to understand why fans are drawn to the pairing.
Yotoob admits:
“I have a weakness for unresolvable conflict…the fact that Ruth cannot talk to Debbie without nearly passing out? The fact that Debbie continues to insert herself into Ruth’s life for no logical reason? The fact that Betty Gilpin makes her face throw full cartwheels every time she so much as LOOKS at Ruth? The fact that they HATE EACH OTHER BUT ALSO HAVE TO TRUST EACH OTHER TO CATCH EACH OTHER WHEN THEY THROW THEMSELVES FROM THE TOP ROPE?…I never stood a chance.”
When you ask anyone about the moment that Jane the Virgin fans really knew that Petra and JR would become something, most people point to that scene in the stairwell, when JR comforts an upset Petra after she hears new revelations about her mother. But too many forget that that scene had already happened once before: in the show’s 12th episode when OG Jane finds Petra in the stairwell, upset over the arrival of her abusive ex, Milos. That moment drew fanfic writer, celaenos, to the pairing.
“I’ve always been drawn to sort of relationships in canon where opposites attract and they start kind of in a strange and — sometimes, depending on how it’s presented — antagonistic/bickering place,” celaenos explained.
In hindsight, it’s amazing that Callie and Addison weren’t fast friends on Grey’s Anatomy. They were both outsiders — unwelcome interlopers who had unwittingly injected themselves into this tight group of residents — and they’d both shared the bed of Mark Sloan more times than they’d care to admit. But Callie and Addison only start to draw close after they work together on the Jamie Carr case. It’s then that the fandom started to take notice of Callie’s bisexual energy.
Long before she’d trade shots at Joe’s with Erica Hahn or makeout with Arizona Robbins in the bar’s bathroom, there was Addison Forbes Montgomery Shepard…and it should’ve been canon.
As always, the clock’s set: you’ve got 48 hours to cast your ballot in this round of March Madness. We’ll be back later this week to share information about the other sub-regions.
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As you know, there is currently a nasty virus overtaking this country and ruining everything (with the exception of its current proximity towards Donald Trump, upon whom I wish nothing but the worst), and now G.L.O.W,, which starting in Season Two featured two QPOC characters and also did a very gay Season Three, has added itself to that list of ruined things. Also on the docket for death is Teenage Bounty Hunters, which is also gay and involves women doing physical harm to others but in a funny way. This comes shortly after Netflix’s cancellation of I Am Not Okay With This, which had a queer tomboy lead.
Despite its Season 4 renewal, Netflix has backed out of completing G.L.O.W. because “resuming GLOW production under COVID safety protocols proved too difficult, not only because of the close physical contact necessary for so many of the show’s scenes, but also because of its large cast and the difficulty of filming in Los Angeles right now.” The budget increase to make this feasible was apparently a hard “no” from Netflix. They have however found the money to keep up with Stranger Things.
In a statement to Deadline, co-creators Liz Flahive and Carly Mensch told Deadline:
“COVID has killed actual humans. It’s a national tragedy and should be our focus. COVID also apparently took down our show. Netflix has decided not to finish filming the final season of GLOW. We were handed the creative freedom to make a complicated comedy about women and tell their stories. And wrestle. And now that’s gone. There’s a lot of shitty things happening in the world that are much bigger than this right now. But it still sucks that we don’t get to see these 15 women in a frame together again. We’ll miss our cast of weirdo clowns and our heroic crew. It was the best job. Register to vote. Please vote.”
All of the actors have been paid for Season Four although only one episode completed filming prior to COVID’s shut-down. Unclear if this has extended to the crew.
The internet is upset, just like me:
I try not to get too upset about cancellations. But I'm so sad about GLOW, bc I fell for that show the minute I saw the pilot—so bold, warped and goofy, and yet, so emotionally sharp & realistic about the 1980s for women. AND I WANTED TO SEE BETTY GILPIN HEAD UP A TV NETWORK.
— Emily Nussbaum (@emilynussbaum) October 5, 2020
https://twitter.com/carolineframke/status/1313218522013667328
Hetflix calm down, look at your life choices
— Emily Andras (@emtothea) October 5, 2020
Valerie, who writes for esteemed queer website Autostraddle dot com, summed it up thusly: “The Outer Banks was the worst show I’ve watched in quarantine and Teenage Bounty Hunters was one of the best shows I’ve watched in the past year and I know it’s not necessarily fair to compare them/i’m just one person with opinions but i’m angry That Outer Banks and their heterosexual nonsense got renewed but TBH didn’t.”
When GLAAD released their annual Where We Are on TV report this year, they announced that LGBTQ+ TV characters are at an all-time high. The headlines all over the internet were ecstatic. Gays win! Best year ever! But the reality is a lot more complicated than that. “Our community,” as GLAAD President Sarah Kate Ellis noted, “finds itself in 2019 facing unprecedented attacks on our progress.”
Every year, our TV Team compiles a list of our favorite and least favorite characters. (For example: 2018, 2017, 2016). It’s fun. Nothing excites us like loving our favorite stories out loud. But there was also a sense, as we approached this list this year, that it was so much more than just good-time reminiscence, especially when so much of the quantitative and qualitative growth we continue to see on-screen is for thin, cis, white, non-disabled queer characters. Our stories matter politically and they matter personally. When they’re good, it makes us so happy. When they’re bad, there’s so much more at stake than our annoyance or discontent. Politics and pop culture have always had a symbiotic relationship, which is why representation — legitimately good representation that explores the fullness of humanity of all LGBTQ+ people at the intersections of the myriad oppressions we face — is more important than it ever has been.
Here’s what we loved this year and what we didn’t like very much at all. We’d love to hear about your favorite and least favorite characters in the comments!
I think most LGBTQ people have those a-ha! fictional characters who finally allow them to look closely at and accept their sexuality and their gender, and I also think most LGBTQ people have those if-only fictional characters they wish had been around when they were whatever age or going through such-and-such thing, to show them the way. I’m going to do that second thing to Elena Alvarez in just a second, in fact! It’s much rarer for a real-life queer adult to stumble upon a fictional queer adult who reminds them of who they are right now, who reflects their grown-up gay reality back at them. Anne Lister is the first — and maybe she’ll be the only — character to ever do that for me. There are so many of her soft butch ways that just resonate. The masculine way she dresses, her stride and gait, the firmness of her gesticulations, going toe-to-toe with every man in her way; but the tenderness too, and the overwhelming need to hold it all together and make everything okay. It was a new thing, to me, to see that on TV. And also, for someone who, on a cellular level, is comprised as much of Jane Austen stories as I am of water, well — finally.
There were so many ways Batwoman could have gone wrong that actually went so, so right — and my favorite one of them is Sophie Moore. The source danger is that she’s a kind of one-dimensional flashback in the comics. The current danger is that she’s Kate Kane’s ex-girlfriend who is presently married to a man, so there’s a real tightrope there between some really longstanding and harmful bisexual tropes. Yet, Batwoman‘s writers are walking it deftly, and have, on top of that, made Sophie more than Kate’s love interest. Sophie is drawn to rules, structure, order, regulated heroism. She’s also a queer woman in love with a winged vigilante who got kicked out of a prestigious military academy for breaking their Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy and refusing to deny it or apologize for it. We’ve barely scratched the surface of Sophie and I can’t wait to see what we find as the writers keep digging.
“I still believe, and I will say this until I go to my grave, that Annalise Keating and Olivia Pope are the greatest characters on TV,” is a thing Viola Davis told Variety this year, because the writers on HTGAWM aren’t “writing tentatively” for people of color. They’re writing bold. And they’re writing messy. Six seasons in, the fact that Annalise Keating exists and is played by Viola Davis still blows my mind. Viola Davis! That she’s bisexual on top of it it all and also now has a best friend who also is a queer Black woman? It’s honestly unbelievable and I feel fucking blessed to be living on this timeline to witness it.
This brilliant, driven, dorky, heroic queer teen was always going to make the list for me. One Day at a Time is one of my all-time favorite shows and she is just so wonderful and refreshing. Exploring Elena’s anxiety disorder this season just made me love her even more, and also made me wish I could have known her so much earlier in my life. I only understood mental illness to be one very specific thing that manifested itself in one very specific way (violence against me) when I was growing up. I never saw someone like me — a compassionate, silly overachiever — dealing with panic attacks. Never! And to have a mother who didn’t tell her to snap out of it or that she was being emotional or over-reacting, but to sit beside her and gently, lovingly teach her to breathe through it? I’m crying right now just thinking about it. Also, Syd-nificant other? COME ON! THAT’S PERFECT.
Petra is the opposite of every terrible bisexual TV character’s trajectory. Instead of being boldly proclaimed as A GAY CHARACTER and then reduced to one-dimensional writing and stereotypes before getting shuffled off to The Parking Lot of No Return, she was a just a caricature of a human being who evolved into a fully realized and deeply vulnerable and loyal friend/family member to Jane — and then she went and fell in love with another woman and got even more raw and real and wonderful. But don’t get it wrong. She never lost her edge. Love made her tender, but she absolutely still blackmailed her bleeding ex-husband who was trapped inside a teddy bear suit while lecturing him about bisexuality as the cops came to cart him off to jail.
Stumptown itself has not lived up to my expectations. It’s RIDICULOUS that Dex hasn’t formed any relationships with any other female characters, and that her limited interactions with women are also limited to single-episode story arcs. RIDICULOUS. But gosh, I do love Dex. She’s a mess and she makes so many mistakes but she always wants to do the right thing and keep her friends and family safe. She’s also dealing with persistent trauma that’s never going to end. She’s self-destructive, but in a controlled way. She self-medicates, but not like before. She’ll never really “have it together” and she knows that and she’s not sorry for it. She’s doing the best she can with what she has, including a shocking variety of very cool ’80s jackets.
Unsurprisingly, I am still very obsessed with Cheryl Blossom, and the fact that the show has turned her into an Addams Family-meets-V.C. Andrews character makes me just love her more. Cheryl Blossom does not belong to our world. She does not speak like a human teen but rather like the town witch in a gothic horror story. I wish the Riverdale writers were more thoughtful in the writing of Toni Topaz this year, but I’ll always be thankful for the bizarreness of Cheryl and Toni’s most recent storylines — including burying and unburying bodies all the time????
How To Get Away With Murder has been all over the place as it spirals to its series finale next spring, but the introduction of Tegan to the show’s arsenal of morally questionable lawyers and lawyers-to-be has been a blessing. She’s funny, smart, and occasionally vulnerable, one of Annalise’s few real friends and an angry gay divorcee. We love to see it!
She’s back, she’s the mom of a teenager now, and she’s still ruining lives. Missed you, mommi.
I didn’t love Euphoria as a whole (and I actively hated parts of it), but there are some little magical bits of it, especially when it comes to Jules and Hunter Schafer’s nuanced, visceral, specific performance. The show does messy friendship very, very well, and the love between Jules and Zendaya’s Rue is the most compelling part of the show.
I went back and forth on whether to include Arthie here, because yes, she does continually hold a very special place in my heart, because I am a queer South Asian woman starved for representation on television, and season three not only lets her be hella gay but also includes LESBIAN SEX SCENES for the first time for the character and for the show. But that ends up being kind of… all we really get for Arthie this season. She doesn’t really exist outside of her relationship with Yolanda, who spends much of this season being pretty manipulative and yet it ends on a forced romantic note? In any case, I do love Arthie so much. And I can’t wait for the day when there are enough queer desi characters on TV for me to be able to pick and choose from.
I think Mrs. Fletcher ended up being one of the most underrated television shows of 2019. It’s sexy, real, and every episode unfolds like a colorful short story contemplating desire, personal evolution, and vulnerability. Eve is a fantastically complex bisexual character, and the show is thoughtful in how it explores her fantasies and emotions.
As the year winds down, I keep returning back to Kat Edison. I don’t think I saw another queer character this year whose characterization and storytelling choices around their queerness was so fully developed without having to depend on a romantic partner to bring it to screen. That’s very hard to pull off. I loved Kat more on her own (and later with Tia, and later again with Adeena once more) than I ever loved her in pervious years. I finally related to her. I related to the questions of how do you redefine your queerness after suffering your first break up? When previously your sexuality had been tied up in you having a girlfriend? I related to her drive and ambition and desire to do good in the world. And yes, I’m sure we are all going to look back at the year when Kat “ran for city council” and laugh at the ridiculousness of it — but what is The Bold Type if not a wee bit ridiculous and running on glitter and girl power? Kat Edison lost a girlfriend, but she gained herself. And that was journey damn well worth watching.
If you didn’t watch BET’s Boomerang, you missed one of the sleeper-hit best developed lesbian characters last year. It’s rare that we get to see a lesbian character in a half-hour comedy. Usually queer women’s stories are regulated to the high stakes tensions of “prestige dramas,” sci-fi epics, and soaps. In real life, lesbians and bisexuals are extremely funny and quirky, but television doesn’t seem ready to catch up. When I watched Boomerang last winter, I marveled at having such gay content front-and-center on the historically homophobic BET network that I didn’t give the craft of Lala Milan’s work enough credit. Sure, I laughed at Tia’s one liners and antics as they aired, but what’s stunning is that ten months later — I am still laughing. I can recall jokes in crystal memory. That’s talent. Yes, it’s important that Tia is one of the few queer characters on television who’s allowed to fully exist within a black space, and isn’t asked to check her queerness at the door. It’s important the she has black friends, and a black masc girlfriend. Sometimes, though, I worry that we get lost in the “representation conversation.”
Not that representation isn’t important! But also, everyone we are watching on screen — these are dedicated performers. Lala Milan has infectious energy and exquisite comedic timing; she can find the warmth in any conversational pause and twist it to her liking. And that is what makes Tia so memorable.
This is controversial, I realize. I want to be clear right away: I do NOT agree with Pose’s decision to kill Candy Ferocity. I don’t think there was anything to be learned from (re)traumatizing it’s largely black and brown, trans and queer audience by showing her death, particularly in the gruesome way it was showcased. I was livid when that episode aired. One of my biggest editorial regrets this year is that I didn’t make space on our website for those grievances to be aired. They needed to be. Pose should be held accountable for those decisions, especially by the QTPOC folks that their show represents and serves.
OK, that all said and true: As the season progressed, I loved getting to know Candy through her afterlife. Angelica Ross found such life in Candy’s death and it was absolutely, hands down my favorite performance this year. It’s December and when I close my eyes it’s still July, and Candy is singing to me in a red shimmering dress. I close my eyes and it’s August, and she’s on a girl’s trip with her sisters peering down and smirking at me from her sunglasses. I close my eyes and her spirit is still there — with me. Not many actors could have pulled that off, but Angelia Ross is an impeccably unparalleled talent.
Vida found itself in a difficult and unenviable predicament. It had one of the strongest first seasons of television I’ve ever seen. A true masterclass of the art form. How do you top coming out of the gates so strongly? The second season of the show is a bit more uneven, but I found it nonetheless mesmerizing, if only because it was so damn messy. And if we’re being real with ourselves, queerness is messy. I’ve never seen a protagonist like Emma Hernandez, who is so full of pain but trying to find these small spaces of reconciliation with her past and her hurt — whether that’s through some pretty complicated sex across the gender spectrum or quiet attempts at understanding with her sister and stepmother. Emma’s carrying her entire family’s future on the small frame of her ice cold shoulders. She definitely doesn’t always get it right, but my goodness — watching her is magnetic. You quite simply cannot stop rooting for her and for her utter complete mess, you know?
There’s a fine dance that can be struck between performer and writer, and Michel Prada and Tanya Saracho have found it in each other. They’re creating pure magic. I hope they never let go.
The other day I was joking that I didn’t necessarily mean that Ruby Rose’s take on Kate Kane was one of my my favorite performances this year, as much as I was fully prepared to hate their version of Batwoman, and instead — I really don’t. Batwoman is easily one of my favorite queer television shows of the fall, and certainly my favorite superhero story of the moment. Given how trepidatious I felt last spring about this entire shebang, that’s no small feat. I remember the first time I saw the trailer — and then the press screener — for Batwoman, I was stunned with a single thought: Ruby Rose might actually just pull this off. And you know what? They really have. I felt like that deserves some acknowledgement, so here I am: Way to go, Ruby Rose. Despite all of our collective fears and the entire queer world’s eyes thrusted upon you, you are somehow really pulling it off.
Finley, Generation Q’s charming grifter with a complicated relationship to church and (her home) state, is a character. Like literally she’s a character, but she’s also a person that if she existed in real life, you’d be like “she’s a character.” She’s that one-of-a-kind person in your friend group whose presence is never forgotten and when she’s not around, it feels like something is missing, the same way you might feel when your adorable dog is at the groomers. She offers comic relief, is a winningly extroverted foil to Shane’s withdrawn intensity and steals every scene she’s in.
Broad City did so much for queer representation by the time it ended its five-season run on Comedy Central — including its acknowledgment of bisexuality as an identity that transcends romantic relationships and its centering of a goofy, self-indulgent, transformational, hilarious and undeniably epic romantic friendship unlike anything we’ve seen on television before.
Okay so Wendy was gay in Mindhunter’s first season, but her girlfriend was one of those blink-and-you-missed-her types that always seem to be attached to the complicated female detective/investigator who is gay but not TOO gay in so many shows of this nature. But in Season Two she got to have a real relationship with a woman who usually wore sleeveless shirts, thus revealing her very attractive arm situations. She challenged and changed Wendy in difficult and important ways that also opened Wendy up to us.
It’s hard enough to find a butch dyke side character on television, let alone a show about a butch dyke. Middle-aged men wondering what the fuck the point is are a standard of half-hour prestige television, but a self-described “fat dyke” eating one almond every day on a nihilistic march towards death and alienating most of her peers falling for a (much younger) trans guy? That’s a new fucking story! And so far I’m very intrigued by it.
9-1-1 isn’t a typical procedural — the personal lives of the main characters aren’t sidelined and often take center stage. (It helps that everybody in the ensemble has decided to date… each other.) But even under those circumstances it felt unlikely we’d ever get to see a real fleshed out storyline for lesbian EMT Hen (played by Aisha Hinds, who also played gay in Under the Dome). This season we saw her and her wife, Karen (played by Tracie Thoms, who also played gay in Rent, UnREAL and The First) struggle with their attempts to get pregnant and then deal with Hen’s PTSD after a deadly vehicle crash. It’s a rare opportunity on television to see a black lesbian couple living out their complex adult lives within work and out of it, telling a story that never felt less important than the others. Through it we’re seeing so much more of who Hen is and what marriage looks like, brought to you by two women who are VERY GOOD at playing gay.
As you might know, I have, um, complicated feelings about Euphoria. But God I love Rue and Jules. Because of Zendaya and Hunter Schafer’s astonishing performances, they don’t feel like mere characters to judge by Sam Levinson’s writing, but real people separate from the frustrations of the show. Since the first season ended I’ve found myself missing Rue’s wise for her age world-weariness and Jules’ determined joie de vivre. The way they intersect with one another and explode. Their specific teenage brand of messy, emotional fuck-up-ery. They are cooler than I ever was and cooler than I’ll ever be and I just want to watch them fall in love and friendship forever and ever.
While the first season was a glorious introduction to my favorite lovesick assassin, the second season elevated Jodie Comer’s Villanelle in all the best ways. Her murders were more creative and brutal, her outfits more gorgeous and sharp, her accents even sillier, and her emotions even greater. More doesn’t always equal better, but with Villanelle, for me, it did. Bitmoji sucks if you have curly hair, so I’ve found when I need a cartoonish reaction in the group chat I always turn to Villanelle. There’s something about the way she’s a sociopath who cares too much, mixing viciousness and innocence and sexiness and terror, that makes her the perfect reaction GIF for everything. The first season I watched as Eve became obsessed with Villanelle. But this season the obsession was mine.
What else can I say about Emma that I didn’t already say when Mishel Prada won a Gay Emmy for playing her? Prada’s performance is Emma. And yet, I can’t very well not include my very favorite character on my very favorite show. I love characters who are highly competent and totally in control. I love watching them crack. I love watching them put themselves back together – or be put back together. It’s comforting, as someone who tries to be highly competent and always in control. Despite our differences, I feel myself in Emma’s attempts to be a good sister, a good lover, a good citizen, and it’s a painful relief to watch her try. Also – and I cannot stress the importance of this enough – Emma is the hottest. Mean with a good heart? Distant but occasionally tender? A power femme more chaotic than Bette Porter? Emma Hernandez was created to ruin my life. Thank God she’s fictional.
Early in the third series of Ackley Bridge, Nasreen Paracha is out for venegance after the death of her best friend, Missy Booth. She seeks out her girlfriend’s unsavory mates for help — she wants the culprit, Anwar, to pay for what he’s done — and they gleefully oblige. Despite never having known her, they shout, “this one’s for Missy, murdering scum” as they pummel him, recording the entire attack for prosperity.
The video makes its way across Ackley Bridge, stoking resentment between the whites, who think Anwar got what he deserved, and Pakistanis, who think he was targeted because of his race. Nas confesses to her mother that she was behind the attack and Kaneez is livid. Nas knows the stories about racist, anti-Muslim violence and should know better to incite it for her own ends. Nas offers a meek defense: for her, it was never about race.
“It is always, ALWAYS about race!” Kaneez shouts. “You should know that. You should bloody know that!”
Nasreen Paracha is a queer Muslim teenager growing up in a fictional British township. Her reality (however imagined) is so far away from my own. And yet, as I watched her mother chastise her for not remembering the realities of the world in which she lives, the words thump against my chest… and I’m reminded of the first time I’d had a similar confrontation with my father. I’d forgotten the world in which I lived and my father chastised me for my capriciousness. It is always, ALWAYS about race! Hearing Kaneez echo my father reminded me of the power of representation, not just to reflect our identities back to ourselves, but to shine a light on our shared experiences.
That said, I’d be remiss if I didn’t note the improbability of Nasreen Paracha’s existence on television. The depiction of Muslims on television remains exceedingly rare and queer Muslim characters are even rarer still. To have a young queer Muslim woman as, essentially, the lead character in an ensemble show… that’s groundbreaking… and with the third series of Ackley Bridge ending with Nas leaving for Oxford, who knows when we’ll ever have it again.
One day, after the final chapter of How to Get Away with Murder is written, I hope someone asks Amirah Vann or Pete Nowalk how long they intended Tegan Price to be a character on the show. When Tegan Price first emerged at Caplan & Gold as Michaela’s mentor in Season Four, I only expected that she’d last a season. I expected that she, like so many recurring characters before her, would push the story forward and then exit, so I tried not to get too attached. But Amirah Vann has this way about her — if you’ve seen her performance as Ernestine in WGN’s Underground, you know — of imbuing her characters, however slight their role, with so much heart that not getting attached becomes an impossibility.
It’s been remarkable to watch HTGAWM give Tegan’s character so much more depth this season and to watch how they juxtapose her story with Annalise’s. Women, and women of color in particular, rarely get the opportunity to be celebrated for their ambition but Tegan has owned hers from the day that we met her. She wants to change the world and saw rising at C&G as an opportunity to amass the power to make that change happen. Even as Tegan’s actions give us cause to doubt her sincerity — I need April to hurry up and get here so I can find out how she’s connected to Laurel and Christopher’s disappearance — her heartbreak over losing Cora and her genuine affection for Annalise ground her character and make her someone we want to cheer for.
When we met Jane Gloriana Villanueva the first time, her passions included her family, God, grilled cheese sandwiches and writing…. and then, 99 episodes later, when we say goodbye to Jane Gloriana Villanueva for the last time, her passions included her family, God, grilled cheese sandwiches, writing and Rafael Solano. Things have happened, lives have shifted, but, essentially, the Jane that we meet at the beginning of Jane the Virgin and the Jane that we meet at the end aren’t that different from each other. Petra Solano though? The Petra Solano that ends JTV, with her girlfriend clinging to her side and her twin daughters smiling brightly nearby? She couldn’t be any more different that the Petra Solano we first met.
As I mentioned back in August, Petra is who she is in Season One because her mother made her that way. Magda taught her the way of the grift and that all relationships, including the one between mother and child, were transactional.
“I’ve had to lie my whole life and manipulate, and cheat, just to survive my crazy mother, and my psychotic sister, and my violent ex-husband. And, yes, those things made me who I am,” Petra admits to Jane “JR” Ramos early in Season Five. “But I can tell you this: I have changed a lot… and I’m going to change more.”
The impetus behind all that change? The other Jane. It wasn’t until she fell in with the Villanuevas that Petra has a model for what healthy relationships — between friends, between mother and child, between family — look like. Once she develops trust in those relationships, she’s able to believe in real love… and that’s when she finds JR.
Sorry, Rose, but the character development that turned an ice queen to a warm and loving mother and girlfriend might be the greatest love story Jane the Virgin ever told.
Alex Danvers has long since been a go-to on my year-end list of favorites, but this year Nia eked out a win in my books. I will always love Alex, but Dreamer has been such a refreshing gift to the past two seasons of Supergirl. I love that being trans is an important part of her story, and I love that the show draws clear parallels between Nia and Season One Kara: a little green but not without life experience, excited about everything, endlessly hopeful. Nia is the hero we needed, and I hope they let her suit up again soon.
I’ve already written so much about why Jenna is so important to me and I could write so much more. The writing and direction and acting all handle Jenna’s queerness with such subtlety and care and I’ve never trusted a show to get a queer teenager right the way I trust this show. It was one of the most realistic coming out arcs I’ve ever seen, from the early clues to avoiding the truth to the inevitability. The acceptance and betrayal and fear and joy are all wrapped up in this adorable bundle of a girl, a reluctant but loyal sister, a recovering perfectionist, a girl who is in pain but trying her best. Jenna is another character I wish I had as a teenager, and one who is retroactively healing a lot of old wounds.
Elena Alvarez will forever be one of my favorite characters because she is exactly who my teenage self needed to see on TV so I know she’s helping so many others just by being her gay, nerdy, joyful self.
Dickinson was my favorite show this year. I watched it all in one weekend and wanted to lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling for a year when it was over. Emily represented all the most dramatic parts of me and I loved her for it. She is emotional and introspective in some of the same ways I am, wild and impulsive in a way I wish I were, defiant and radical in a way I’m learning to be. I don’t always love a period piece but the mix of modern and historical in this imagining of Emily Dickinson’s life was delicious and fun, it was funny and heavy and relevant. And it was so, so gay. Emily was exactly the best friend loving, poetry writing, death obsessed, patriarchy smashing character I needed to close out my 2019.
When Will & Grace brought Samira Wiley on to be Karen Walker’s love interest, I was like, “Finally! It’s taken two decades but at last they’re going to stop playing Karen’s bisexuality as a joke that was already tired in the ’90s!” Actually, it was the opposite thing. Karen and Samira Wiley met, hit it off, dated, grew closer, planned to attend Jack’s destination wedding together — and then, in the airport, the show pulled a reverse “Puppy Episode” and had Karen announce her straightness over the airport loudspeaker. I hate throwing the word “erasure” around because it dilutes it beyond recognition, but this was some of the stupidest and most disrespectful bisexual erasure I’ve ever seen. And why? What was even the point of it?
Claire was the most confusing part of Tales of the City to me. On the one hand, I get that Netflix’s reboot was leaning into the wacky pulpy twisty weirdness of the original, but on the other hand, I still have no idea what Claire was supposed to be to viewers or to Ellen Page’s character. She was like a spoiled and bratty documentary filmmaker blackmailing a trans woman to expose San Francisco’s gentrification issues? And she had an actual connection with Shawna? Or… no? She was using Shawna to get to Anna to do the blackmail? And Shawna, who couldn’t trust due to being abandoned as a child, did take a chance and trust Claire — and the lesson she learned was: your instincts are correct, never trust anyone? It’s all very bizarre and incomprehensible, and not in the good way I was consistently confused by the zany hijinks of the first few season of Pretty Little Liars.
Writing these posts is always difficult, in part because as a community, we’re still grappling with what it means to be invested in qualitative representation instead of just quantitative representation. Also, because, given the nature of TV, it’s hard to disassociate these critiques from the actors themselves, despite the fact that the critique almost never about them. But just so there’s absolutely no confusion about my intention here: this post is not about Nafessa Williams or Chantal Thuy.
Williams and Thuy have sustained the #ThunderGrace fandom on the backs of their natural charisma and chemistry. I cannot imagine two other actresses having done so much when given so little. But Black Lightning is failing Anissa, it’s failing Grace, it’s failing its fans…and the responsibility for that falls squarely on the shoulders of its writing team.
I have given this show a pass for its shortcomings. I have watched as the female villains wither and die while the men — Gambi, Lala, Tobias, Khalil, O’Dell — come back, over and over and over again. I’ve watched as the show devoted episode after episode to telling the story of Jennifer clinging to her abusive boyfriend and as the show tried to convince me that abuse was romantic. I kept watching even as Grace and Anissa went weeks without scenes together. We’ll endure so much for the sake of representation…so even as the writers minimized and marginalized the show’s queer story, I kept watching. I kept watching because I wanted so much to see myself as super. I wanted so much to see us as celebrated heroes. I wanted to see us as bulletproof.
But this season, I finally reached my breaking point: In Chapter 4 (“Lynn’s Ouroboros”), Anissa’s dad, Jefferson, stops by her new loft and is surprised to discover Grace — who, apparently, he never even knew existed — there. Anissa slinks downstairs in her armor and we come to the realization at the same time as Jefferson: Anissa’s superpowers aren’t a secret from Grace. As with most of their relationship, the conversation where Anissa reveals her powers and that she moonlights as Thunder/Black Bird happens off-screen. We never got to see it.
It’s hard to overstate the significance of that conversation…how meaningful it would have been to Grace, who has had trouble harnessing her own powers, to know she had someone who understood her struggle or how meaningful it would have been for Anissa, who’s struggled with emotional vulnerability, to reveal this personal thing about herself. We missed the chance to see Grace’s face light up at the realization that she’s dating a superhero. We missed the chance to hear Anissa tell the only coming out story that’s ever been important on Black Lightning. No conversation between those two characters was more important than this one and we never got to see it. It is an inexcusable and infuriating omission…and it’s impossible to see its omission as anything other than homophobia manifested.
Anissa Pierce isn’t the lone lesbian superhero on the CW anymore. While I reject any effort to erase Anissa Pierce’s claim to the title of “first lesbian superhero,” as I take in Batwoman on Sunday nights and Black Lightning on Mondays, I wonder if we’re seeing, before our eyes, the difference between qualitative and quantitative representation…or, to put it more simply: the difference between acceptance and tolerance.
Midway through Vida‘s first season, Emma happens upon her ex-girlfriend, Cruz, in a bar. There’s a playful flirtation between them…from the adorable way Emma trips over her words when they first reconnect to the sensual way their bodies meld together on the dance floor…but then the ground shifts beneath them. With one simple provocation — See? Things aren’t so bad around here — Emma’s truth spills out. The revelations are a defining moment of the series for Emma but they’re also a gamechanger for Cruz. For years, she’s lived with the belief that Emma was running — from her, from them, from this place — but none of it was true and from that moment on, everything changes.
Later, all Emma wants to do is fuck the pain away and, for a while at least, Cruz allows it. But, in that moment, all Cruz wants to do is show her that they’re more than just an aggressive fuck…that, through distance and time, their love survived Vidalia’s internalized homophobia. After being denied all night, their lips finally connect and Cruz pours every bit of love and comfort into their kiss. And while the story rightly focuses on Emma — who is so overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment, she has a panic attack — one thing is undeniable: Cruz intends to be part of that story.
It is hard to reconcile that version of Cruz — that indelible impression — with the Cruz we meet in Season Two.
The Cruz that wanted to shelter and comfort is gone, replaced with a Cruz who doesn’t protect her now girlfriend from the withering onslaught of judgment from her friends. The Cruz that saw Emma break in front of her, as she recounted being sent away from home twice for the sin of being her mother’s child in ways her mother desperately wanted to ignore, wouldn’t weaponize that knowledge against Emma, but Season Two Cruz does. The Cruz we met in Season One provoked, intentionally, but never cruelly, and yet, in Season Two, Cruz says, “Emma, you are the classic cautionary tale of why moms need to hug their children.” When the words come out of Cruz’s mouth, I was convinced of two things: 1. Emma and Cruz are over…Cruz has crossed the one line that you absolutely cannot cross with Emma and there’s no going back now; and 2. Season One’s Cruz would never have said that.
Still, all these months later, I don’t know why she had to.
Okay, okay, OKAY. Let me explain. I love Eleanor. I really do. But I do not like her as a queer character. Bisexual characters obviously do not have to be romantic or sexual with more than one gender on-screen. Like in life there isn’t a behavior requirement to be bisexual. But that doesn’t mean an occasional punchline makes for a well-rounded queer character. There’s a difference between having a person’s sexuality not define them and all but ignoring that sexuality. We’ve seen Eleanor go through a lot of life – and a lot of lives – and I find it frustrating as the show winds down (beautifully I must add) that throwaway jokes about Tahani being hot are still all we’ve received. I don’t mind if more and more TV characters are lowkey sexually fluid, but I’m tired of attempts to celebrate Eleanor as a queer character or celebrate The Good Place writers for being so progressive that they ignore Eleanor’s bisexuality almost completely. It’s the one thing they shouldn’t be celebrated for as far as I’m concerned.
The first season of Derry Girls ended with a really wonderful coming out episode for Clare. It seemed to promise new depth to her character – and new queerness for the show. But the second season was pretty much devoid of both. Clare doesn’t need to share Michelle’s confident horniness or Erin’s awkward horniness, but when Clare’s lesbianism is treated as a mere label, it feels frustrating in contrast with her friends’ teenage love lives. The new season brought a hot new teacher and a hot new student and neither storyline even addressed Clare’s possible attraction.
It just feels like show creator Lisa McGee doesn’t really know what to do with an out character. Like with The Good Place, de-centering Clare’s queerness doesn’t feel radical – it feels safe. Placing these two characters side-by-side demonstrates that it’s not a matter of sex drive. Eleanor is consumed with horniness, whereas Clare doesn’t seem to think about sex at all. And yet in both shows the characters aren’t seen acting on their queerness. Which is fine! The writers can tell the stories they want to tell. But as more and more television includes queer people, I think it’s worth considering what we do and don’t define as queer television and what we deem worth watching specifically for its queer content. Having one out of five characters be queer should be the bare minimum. And if you don’t center that person’s queerness I’m going to lose interest.
The Stumptown pilot was one of the best pilots I’ve ever seen, but the show has been slowly losing me as each episode goes on. Dex barely ever interacts with other women, and sure the one she did talk to the most was her ex-girlfriend, but I still had hoped there would he more women on the show, and maybe even some men Dex HASN’T slept with. But somehow the show has turned into being about Dex’s dating history/present instead of her badassery and I am bummed about it.
I…I guess I just thought this show was going to be about why women kill men. Jade came on screen and I was like, “Jade and Taylor are gonna team up and kill their boyfriend.” But instead they went ahead and decided to score a hat trick of harmful tropes before the show’s end.
I was SO EXCITED when it was revealed that Nora was queer, especially since Jessica Parker Kennedy played one of my favorite queer characters of all time (Max on Black Sails) but alas, it was mentioned then forgotten. Not that I needed her to be in a relationship, because that’s obviously not what defines your queerness, but they could have at least worked it into the conversation one way or another. At least one other time. Anything. And then her last episode in 2019 had her entirely erased from the timeline. Which is a metaphor for what the show does to its queer women if I’ve ever seen one.
It’s ironic that I’ve written more about Anissa Piece and Grace Choi than any other couple I’ve covered for this website. Ironic because when Black Lightning first began, I had never been more excited for a black lesbian superhero and now I groan to complete my weekly requirements. Ironic because Black Lightning is actually, when it wants to be, a truly exceptional show, but it’s decided in the last year that writing cohesive storylines — especially for its queer characters — is apparently just too much work. There is no reason why Anissa’s love life shouldn’t have been given the same on-camera, seasons long, full treatment that’s been given to her straight little sister and her parents. I made excuses for far too long, I think we all did, really. We wanted to believe in the power of a bulletproof black lesbian superhero. We wanted to believe in a shapeshifting bisexual Asian tough-as-nails badass with a tough past. We were right to believe. They deserved our faith in their love. Even when the writers of Black Lightning showed over (and over!) again that they weren’t willing to do the same.
This year, Heather and I made the difficult decision to move Black Lightning from full recaps to our weekly Boobs on Your Tube television roundups on Friday. A lot of factors went into that decision that aren’t just about the romantic pairing on screen, but it’s also true that I no longer wanted to reward minimal effort and bad behavior. Nafessa Williams and Chantal Thuy are kinetic together; they’ve found such depth and caring in Anissa and Grace, despite being only given the scraps of the table to work with. My point is — they shouldn’t have been given only the scraps to begin with. We should demand more. And from now on, we will.
There’s a narrative structure to storytelling. Yes, writing is an art form, but there’s also basic building blocks that are mechanical. Stories have a beginning, they crescendo across an arc, and then they end. I know I sound incredibly basic, but please follow me for a moment — Even Rothlo came back into Annalise Keating’s life at the start of How To Get Away With Murder’s second season (the beginning); through both flashbacks and their “present time” relationship we learned that Eve and Annalise were lovers in law school and that Annalise had broken Eve’s heart, but they were never fully over each other (the story arc); and then Annalise let Eve go to follow her new life and love in San Francisco (the end). I always believed we might see Eve on last time before the show was over, that she might be Annalise’s final love — her “end game” of sorts. Still, this story had found a satisfying conclusion on its own. Basic building blocks.
So why did Pete Nowalk decide to undo all his own writing and bring Eve back for a “special episode” in which her only purpose was to be intimately cruel to Annalise (which was never Eve’s personality to begin with) and then have her disappear into the night once again — leaving Annalise with just tattered pieces of her soul to deal with? I have no earthly clue. For a while I thought Eve’s coming back was a stepping stone in allowing Annalise to find new love with Tegan Price, but that doesn’t seem to be happening either. As much as I’d love for a romantic flame to blossom between Tegan and Annalise, I’ve also come to respect them as platonic queer friends, which we rarely get to see on television. Still, the question remains, if Annalise and Tegan aren’t getting together, and if Eve isn’t coming back in some grand romantic gesture, why did Pete Nowalk re-open this wound at all? Why pour salt somewhere that was already stitched? It was a confusing and bad story choice, point blank.
I don’t know what happened in All American’s writing room between Seasons One and Two, but the sidelining of Coop from being a central character of the series, rivaling on co-lead, to a nearly D List background player is absolutely egregious and appalling. I don’t have anything else to add — it’s wrong by any definition and the show should be working overtime to fix it.
As the TV Team closes out our summer coverage and starts preparing for the new fall television season, we realized a trend that we absolutely couldn’t wait to tell you about!
This summer, for the first time in television history (!!), there were a record breaking nine women of color couples on TV!!! That’s just counting between May and August! It’s been a summer of love for women of color (if you include interracial relationships with white women, there have been 15 relationships total), which is already a rarity – but women of color are almost never allowed to love one another on television. This is groundbreaking. Women of color finally being given space to find beauty and strength and comfort in each other for once… well, those are the kind of love stories we can’t wait to hear more of.
😍 😍 😍
Where to Watch: Freeform
When The Bold Type returned for its third season, I was really worried about Kat Edison. She was going through a very rough break up with her first-ever girlfriend, Adena, and it was taking a toll on her. She was also having to figure out what it meant to be queer for the first time on her own two feet and without a partner beside her. In that process Kat discovered parts of herself that she never knew before (including political aspirations!), but most importantly she discovered new confidence in the parts of life that are messy and not Social Media perfect. That confidence became infectious for Tia, her campaign manager, who’d previously had a hard and isolating time dealing with her own queerness.
Tia looks at Kat like she is a ray of sun brought to earth. In Tia, Kat finds a grounding and patient presence instead of her go-to impulsiveness. They are in many ways opposites, but that makes them an even stronger team, together. Kat and Tia have conversations about negotiating the one-two punch of systematic racism and homophobia that I never would’ve believed The Bold Type could pull off – and they do it with relatability and grace. Also, excuse me but I just have to say this, when they have sex, it’s really hot. – Carmen
Where to Watch: Freeform
I have to tell the truth, when Kat and Adena broke up last summer – I was mad at Adena El-Amin. In fact, I was so mad that when Adena returned to New York at the end of The Bold Type’s third season, I was not ready to forgive her. I was happy for Kat’s new relationship with Tia, I enjoyed the woman Kat was growing up to become, and as far as I was concerned Adena had missed the boat. It was her loss. Oh man, how wrong I was.
One minute in the hallway at Scarlet in front of the elevators, and Kat knows it right away. She tries to hold it together. She wills herself not to cry. But the second she’s alone with her friends, she can’t hold it in any longer. She still loves Adena and it hasn’t gone away. Adena’s learned more about herself in their time apart as well. She realizes now that she was blaming Kat for her own insecurities. Ultimately they don’t quite stay together this time either, but The Bold Type has sold me on this: Kadena is in it for the long haul, and that is one slow burn I cannot wait to watch unfold. – Carmen
Where to Watch: TNT
During the first season of Claws, Arlene Branch steps out of her unmarked police cruiser and spots Ann Zayas setting up her perch outside the nail salon. She saunters over, in her leather jacket and aviators, and flirts by way of historic trivia. It’s a rarity for Ann to be seen — everyone around her is so ostentatious, it’s easy for them to eclipse her light — but Arlene really sees her and, I think, Ann starts to fall in love with her right at that moment.
Somewhere between having her baby snatched from her teenage arms and her time in prison, Ann had stopped believing that love was possible but when Arlene offers it, she holds on for dear life, even when she shouldn’t. Dating a cop when you and your friends are laundering money for a pill mill is probably not the best idea but the heart wants what the heart wants. They plan a life together, they plan a family together and then it all falls apart. They betray each other — Ann first, then Arlene — but their attraction is undeniable and they find their way back to each other.
This season on Claws, Arlene and Ann built the family that they always wanted. They marry quietly, in a small courthouse ceremony, they listen to the heartbeat of their unborn child and then, perhaps in the greatest display of love there is, Arlene sacrifices her career life to keep their family safe. – Natalie
Where to Watch: SyFy
Delle Seyah Kendry, played by Mayko Nguyen, made her mark the moment she appeared on screen, with her snarky attitude and sultry glares, and of course our love for her was only helped by her tendency to relentlessly flirt with Dutch (Hannah John-Kamen). Of course, this set shipper hearts ablaze, even though Dutch had eyes for someone else. But, in a move not unlike Jane the Virgin’s, it seemed the Powers that Be heard the pleas for a Delle Seyah/Dutch team-up and gave Kendry the next best thing: Aneela. Also played by Hannah John-Kamen, Aneela is identical in looks to Dutch, though she’s different in just about every other way.
Race isn’t really discussed in this life-or-death space race of a universe (well, alien races are I guess…), so it doesn’t really matter to them, but it’s pretty cool for us that this dream team is comprised of two women of color. Both complex and ruthless, Aneela and Kendry were dubbed the Green Queens and could be seen as villains if you weren’t paying enough attention, but upon a closer look, you can tell their love for each other is true and their intentions are good, even when their methods leave something to be desired, or when their past comes back to haunt them. In this final season, Aneela and Delle Seyah have a child (a child that is a few weeks old but also a teenager, because sci-fi) and have a few more adventures to go on together before this final season comes to a close in a few weeks. – Valerie
Where to Watch: OWN
When Queen Sugar announced that they were finally going to give Nova Bordelon another woman love interest, I was fully prepared for Octavia Laurent (more on her below). Not in a million years did I think we would see the return of Chantal, her girlfriend from the beginning of the series.
Anytime Chantal and Nova kiss, my heart lights on fire like clockwork. I will always love them. The thing about Chantal Williams is that she is one of the few people in Nova’s life who does not fall for her bullshit. She knows her worth, and whether it’s about community politics or matters of the heart – she is always willing to point out the ways Nova can grow to get on her level. I want Nova to be the best possible version of herself, and Chantal wants that too. She wants a relationship she can grow in, which I think is the whole point of relationships at all. But until Nova is ready to make those choices on her own, I fear they will continue to be ships passing in the night. As long as that means we still get to drop in on Chantal every once and a while… well, I’m learning to be OK with that. – Carmen
Where to Watch: OWN
There’s everything wrong with Octavia Laurent’s past affair with her then-student, Nova Bordelon, or her current affair with the graduate student who looks like Nova’s doppelganger. Professors who sleep with students are unfairly taking advantage of uneven power dynamics. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. But, still…there’s something tantalizing about how easily Nova and Octavia slide back into the romance that they once shared.
It begins, as I imagine it used to when Nova was a student, with an intellectual sparing match, but once they’re alone, emotions come to the fore. Like her family, Octavia’s hurt by her portrayal — or lack thereof — in Nova’s book, but unlike Nova’s family, Octavia offers her former student a way to make amends… on her lips, in her arms, between her sheets. This will end badly, we know it from the moment they debate who made the other scream louder, but for the moment, it gives Nova hope: someone who loved her once, hurt by her writing, could love her again. – Natalie
Where to Watch: ABC
I started Grand Hotel on a lark. I don’t know why, but I love cheesy soapy television in the summer. I think it’s all the rosé. Anyway, I fell for this show right away, but there was something about Yoli. The ugly duckling to her twin sister’s supposedly more “beautiful” swan, my heart broke for her. She was the afterthought in her own family! That’s no way to live!
Then came Marisa, who saw Yoli in a way no one else in her life could. To Marisa, Yoli was the most beautiful woman in the room every time, even when she was mopping the floors. When her family lets her down, it’s Marisa who is there to pick her up. It’s Marisa who strokes her thumb against her cheek and reminds her that she’s gorgeous, brave, and not deserving of life’s scraps. It’s Marisa who gives her the strength to come out to her family and finally forge a new relationship – as equals – with her sister.
And when Marisa needs Yoli most, because she’s terrified of what it means to be undocumented in our country right now, Yoli doesn’t think twice of being there for her, too. “We’re family now,” Yoli tells Marisa while she wipes away her tears. Sometimes there is romance (and trust me, this has a lot of romance), but sometimes there is an intimacy of shared community that can’t be found anywhere else. Yoli and Marisa have found both. – Carmen
Where to Watch: Netflix
In Season Three, Arthie and Yolanda on Netflix’s GLOW are in a full-on relationship, which has its ups and downs as the wrestling team settles into their new home in Vegas. Arthie is still figuring out her sexuality, and there are lots of adorable baby gay moments (some that will maybe make you cry a little bit!). But they also get some hot sex scenes, including one where they literally turn wrestling moves into foreplay!!!!!!! FINALLY this implicitly VERY gay show is explicitly gay. Sometimes these characters are a little too boxed-in, but their relationship and the drama within it is one of the season’s ongoing subplots, and things end on a promising note for the lovebirds. – Kayla
Where to Watch: Netflix
Ahh, the joy of young awkward nerds in love. Brooke and Kelsey have one thing in common – they both annoy everyone else in their friend group. Brooke, a journalism major at Dear White People’s fictional Ivy League setting, chases career ambitions above everything else. It makes her kind of hard to get along with. Kelsey, also a student at the school, has been sheltered by her class privilege, so much so that people find it difficult to relate to her. Both of them are the kind of black girls you don’t often get to see on TV – outsiders who have friends in their black peer group, but more often than not feel alone. That is, until they find each other.
Kelsey’s slow courtship of Brooke is hands down the most swoon-worthy story I watched this summer. Wait! “Swoon-worthy” is wrong. These girls are far too awkward for that. What is the word for “made me shove my face into a pillow and scream out of delight and then draw little imaginary hearts around their cute little faces with my finger tips”? Dear White People may have a checkered past when it comes to black lesbian and queer representation, but finally in Season Three – they got something right. – Carmen
Warning: Spoilers ahead for season three of GLOW.
With each and every season, GLOW gets gayer and gayer, and that’s the kind of character development I like to see in shows, friends, and myself, thank you very much.
In its third season, GLOW takes the show to Las Vegas, and the new setting provides a perfect backdrop to the season’s many intersecting storylines. Vegas is a transient, weirdo bubble, and most of these characters are going through huge transitional moments in life. Debbie is a producer now, but she struggles to spend so much time away from her kid and also wants to step on the necks of all the men who don’t take her seriously (and eventually does, though unfortunately not literally). Ruth faces the possibility that she’ll never achieve her true dreams of being a successful actress. Cherry second-guesses her baby plans with Keith because of the actual physical changes it will bring about to her body, which is how she makes her living (I can’t believe I’m about to say this about straights, but their marriage is one of my favorite depictions of marriage on television). Tammé pushes her body to its very limits for the sake of her work. Sheila de-wolfs and reaches for new performance heights. Much of the season is about defining and redefining success and happiness, these characters clawing at the things they want with a kind of fervent desperation that it takes for women to chase dreams within the patriarchy.
Arthie’s huge transitional moment is her new relationship with Yolanda, in full swing at the top of the season. Which means, yes, *announcer voice* SEASON THREE OF GLOW HAS LESBIAN SEX:
lesbian sex
lesbian sex
somehow…NOT lesbian sex? more on this later
Season two sees Arthie through the realization that she has feelings for Yolanda, and in season three, she wrestles with what that really means, leading to broader feelings about her sexuality. Honestly, I think we’re all still a little in shock about how NOT gay the first season of GLOW (subtext aside) was. Season three serves up a lot of candid conversations between Arthie and Yolanda about queerness. As the only out queer women on the team, they also have to grapple with homophobia from their own friends. Yolanda and Arthie are in different places with their own identities, and some of that manifests as relationship drama throughout the season.
My one complaint would be that they’re kind of just slotted as The Gay characters now, and they don’t seem to have any storylines outside of their relationship with each other. That’s especially frustrating, because a great asset of GLOW has been the way it develops its characters and gives them lots of different stories. They aren’t the one-note caricatures that they play in their wrestling show. But when it comes to Arthie and Yolanda, there’s little else going on other than this coming out arc. The conflict between them isn’t always well developed (why, for example, does Arthie bear the weight of their breakup when Yolanda said some pretty hurtful and messed up things about her sexuality?).
And there are opportunities for Arthie and Yolanda—again, the only queer women on a show that somehow brims with Big Dyke Energy—to be plugged into other storylines that end up being wasted. In the brilliant “Freaky Tuesday” episode, for example, every girl switches characters for a night, a fun enough gag on its own, but GLOW uses it to tell deeper, more nuanced stories, as with Jenny who has to hear the racism of her character delivered by a white woman, which throws her into a whole new level of cognitive dissonance. Wouldn’t it make sense to have Arthie have a similar experience with someone playing her racist character?
Look, part of GLOW’s appeal is that it feels like a true ensemble show, so there are a lot of characters to balance all the time and not everyone can be in the spotlight for too long. But the show still manages to dig into a lot of deep stuff for several different characters this season. We’re out here trying to heal genocidal trauma through Jenny and Melanie. Cherry and Keith’s relationship has several moving pieces to it. Bash’s sexuality is treated with more nuance. Meanwhile, a lot of the character and relationship development for Arthie and Yolanda is pared down and limiting. At times I’m left wondering what exactly draws them to each other other than the fact that they’re both just the only out women on the team.
this was me logging onto tumblr when I was closeted in college
On that note, I do have some outstanding questions about GLOW’s third season, which all fall under the umbrella question of HOW DARE YOU?
My first HOW DARE YOU pertains to the show’s central ““best friends” Debbie and Ruth, whose scenes together continue to tell one of the greatest slow-build love stories of all time, and yet, GLOW is still gal pal-ing them. I hesitate to use the term queerbaiting here, because it doesn’t even really feel like that. It feels like maybe the writers…don’t know…that they’ve written Debbie and Ruth as a couple. And YEAH, I get it, friendships between straight women can be ROMANTIC or whatever, but I’m sorry, are we all…watching the same show?
I refuse to include a screenshot of Ruth rubbing her EXPOSED BOOBS on Debbie in the dressing room, because it feels too horny, even for me…but episode three, timestamp 22:40, just saying.
HOW DARE YOU: Part 2
I can’t believe there’s a devastating breakup scene for a relationship that “never” even “existed.” Also, have you ever heard of platonically being chased through an airport? NO, BECAUSE IT’S NOT A THING.
HOW DARE YOU: Part 3
I fully cried when Arthie opens up her secret Santa gift and it’s a full-on rainbow headband. “But Kayla, didn’t you just say that you had some problems with the character being solely defined by her coming out story?” YES, but I still find that coming out story deeply relatable on a personal level, okay?! There are so, so, so few South Asian queer characters on television, and I lap them up like sustenance because I’m so parched for representation.
Speaking of being parched, I will leave you with HOW DARE YOU: Part 4
…
Last week, we were treated to Derry Girls‘ prom episode and an AvaLance tango on Legends of Tomorrow, which set my mind twirling and whirling around some of my favorite lesbian and bisexual dance scenes. Women dancing together is actually a thing that’s still not too common on TV. Weirdly, we’re more likely to see actual sex. Maybe because dancing is so gendered it freaks people out even more than scissoring? Maybe it’s too intimate? Who’s to say! Either way, with the help of the TV Team, I’ve compiled 16 of the best queer dance scenes ever. Get ready to get some feelings, and, as always, we’d love to hear your faves in the comments.
A dream to build a life on.
When love makes you literally levitate.
There are so many great Stef and Lena swaying scenes to choose from, but their unapologetically sexy dancing at Lena’s major milestone birthday party is my personal favorite.
Emily didn’t want to end up with the mushy squash. 😭 (Runner up.)
Raise your hand if this scene made you gay.
Cherish/Cherish
In a show filled with moments that’ll make a person cry a bucketful of gay tears, Elena’s thwarted father/daughter dance that turned into a family celebration at her quinceañera stands alone.
Callie and Arizona’s wedding wasn’t their happily ever after, but it sure was a watershed moment on television.
On Valentine’s Day we dance with the girls we wanna dance with.
A rare moment of carefree happiness for Annalise Keating, in a bleak world, with the only woman who ever saw straight through her. (I still haven’t given up hope on them and you can’t make me!)
The level of love and physical fitness on display here!
“Prom Princess” is the episode it becomes very apparent that She-Ra‘s queerness isn’t accidental.
The best part of this beloved Tibette dance scene…
… is the clenched jaw scowl on Bette’s face out in the audience when she realizes they’ve been out-danced by Alice and Tasha and Jamie and Salt-n-Pepa.
Two ends of the same bitch-goddess spectrum, colliding at last.
If this scene from the Pose pilot doesn’t convince you to watch all the dancing on the show, don’t talk to me ever again.
‘Tis the season for various media outlets to reveal their list of the 10-40 Best TV Shows of the year, and this year we decided to get in on that. With a caveat, of course — to us, no matter how critically acclaimed any given show is, we cannot personally crown it “the best” unless our specific interests (read: queer women) are included within it. I’m sorry that’s just who and how we are!
To prepare for this undertaking, I looked at 18 Best TV of 2018 lists across mainstream media, both high-brow and middle-brow: The Decider, The New York Times, Paste, Vulture, Vanity Fair, The Guardian, Entertainment Weekly, USA Today, The New Yorker, TV Guide, AFI, Complex, The AV Club, Verge, The AP, Variety, Slate, The Daily Beast and The Atlantic. On the list below, you’ll see in parentheses a number: that number represents the number of other Best-Of lists the show appeared on.
Last year I documented what felt like — finally— a shift wherein regular and recurring queer women characters were just as likely to show up at the forefront of prestige television as they were in our previous homes of “soapy teen dramas,” sci-fi/supernatural epics and very small parts in aforementioned prestige television. This year that trend has continued mightily. Three shows that turned up on pretty much every Best-Of list — The Good Place, Killing Eve and Pose — had queer or trans leads. Frequent inclusions on those Best-Of Lists that did not include queer women were exactly what you’d expect: The Americans, Homecoming, Atlanta, Better Call Saul, Lodge 49, Barry, Bojack Horseman (which did have one lesbian-themed episode but that didn’t feel like enough to warrant inclusion on this list, I’m sure you will @ me re: this) and Gianni Versace: American Crime Story. Most baffling to us all was that Lifetime’s You showed up on SEVEN Best-Of Lists, despite being insufferable and killing its only queer woman character. It’s not on this list.
This list is not, then, our favorite shows of the year, or the shows that brought us the most joy or the best representation. We’re doing a lot of lists this year about teevee, and most of them are our Favorites, not “The Best.” This list are the shows that have regular or recurring queer women characters and that I personally believe were, objectively, the best. The opinions of other critics weighed heavily into these rankings, and only in a few cases did I pick a show that wasn’t on any other Best-Of lists.
I look forward to witnessing your disagreements and agreements in the comments! Also I know there’s 27 shows here but 25 seemed like a better headline.
“Marvel’s Runaways” Hasn’t Achieved Its Full Gay Potential Yet, but It’s Already a Thrilling Ride
The timing couldn’t be better for this lovely comic book adaptation about a group of fierce, supernaturally talented teenagers challenging the abhorrent compromises their parents made, supposedly in their best interest, for a “better world,” at the expense of, you know — human lives, wealth inequality, and our planet. Plus, Virginia Gardner literally shines as Karolina Dean, a human-alien hybrid initially hiding her superpowers and her lesbianism ’til coming out near the end of Season One. Her revelation is refreshingly well received by her crush, cynical goth Nico Minoru, in what feels like a fairly honest depiction of Generation Y’s alleged tendency towards nonchalant sexual fluidity. Season Two sees the lesbian couple trying to make it work amid pretty challenging circumstances. Despite an enormous ensemble — six children and ten parents for each — Runaways has mostly succeeded in making each of them count. At times it fumbles, having bit off more than it can chew thematically and w/r/t sheer population, but it still manages to combine the easy joy of a teen drama with the satisfying anxiety of suspenseful sci-fi. — Riese Bernard
Undoubtedly the most cheerful show on the list and a bona-fide critical darling, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is hawkishly agreeable, floating through its second season on unmistakable charm, its trademark breakneck quip-laden dialogue, and a generous budget devoted to picturesque sets and locations that leave no affluent late-’50s stone unturned. Then there’s Mrs. Maisel herself, a plucky heroine who occasionally does wrong but when she does, it’s always very cute, and often laugh-out-loud funny. It’s frustrating that Susie’s lesbianism remains bafflingly unspoken, especially when Mrs. Maisel’s primary flaw continues to be its chronically low stakes, like a cake inside another cake inside another cake slathered in buttercream frosting. I do love cake, though! Regardless — Susie deserves a sexuality. I hope in Season Three she finally gets it. — Riese Bernard
HBO’s “Sally4Ever” Is Hilarious, Horrifying, Tries to Make Lesbian Toeing Happen
Earning points for sheer pugnacity, Sally4Ever, described by The Guardian as “a lurid lesbian sitcom,” is a disgusting, often offensive and downright bizarre comedy about an absurdly passive middle-aged woman, Sally, who leaves her droll underachieving partner for a wildly manipulative narcissistic lesbian musician / actress she first sees on the Underground. Julie Davis’s Emma is a madcap creation only Julie Davis’s mind could’ve created. Sally4Ever is one of four reminders on this list that you can always rely on British television to wallow in discomfort and failure in a way optimistic American TV is rarely willing to do. — Riese Bernard
How “Legends of Tomorrow” Became One of the Best Queer Shows on TV
Legends of Tomorrow is one of the weirdest shows on television. With everything from Julius Caesar on the loose in Aruba to a stuffed animal worshipped as a god of war, you truly never know what’s going to happen next. On paper, it seems like the writers play mad libs with storylines, picking random nouns and locations out of hats and running with it. The most dramatic lines of dialogue are, simply put, absurd. But in 2018 this goofy-ass show has blossomed into something truly spectacular, as bisexual badass Sara Lance became, in the words of Zari, “not just the captain of the ship, but its soul.” It was still everything we love about the show – the misfit camaraderie, the wacky storylines, the outfits, the heart – but turned up to eleven. Sara also got her first post-Arrow longterm relationship with another woman. Their love story was fraught, sweet, sexy, complicated — and oh so rewarding. Best of all, it’s still going strong. — Valerie Anne
Everything Sucks! is a Bangin’ TV Show With a Sweet Lesbian Lead
Sure, everything sucks, but something that specifically sucks is that this show only got one tiny season to breathe. Sweet and nostalgic, Everything Sucks! made the noteworthy choice of placing a lesbian character front and center of a tender coming-of-age dramedy set in Boring, Oregon. Amid pitch-perfect references to Frutopia, “Wonderwall” and the Columbia House Music Club, we have two girls on separate journeys towards queer revelations (and each other) and in this story, the pre-teen boys in their crew aren’t the main event. Considering all that, I suppose, perhaps it’s not so surprising it got cancelled.— Riese Bernard
Maya Rudolph’s Forever is Finally Here and Quietly Queer
Every critic on earth adored Forever, partly because of the show’s unique and brilliantly executed concept, but mostly because of Maya Rudolph’s stunning and triumphant return to TV. What made Forever even rarer than those two things was the central conflict for Rudolph’s character, June, who experienced a middle-aged queer awakening at the hands of an enigmatic, furious, and sometimes even unlikable(!!) Kase, played by Catherine Keener. It does seem like maybe some vital character development for Kase was left on the cutting room floor in an effort to make sure the audience didn’t root too hard for her relationship with June — but what remained was still breathtaking and frankly revolutionary. — Heather Hogan
After years of lurking in the Showtime/HBO shadows, Starz has emerged over the past few years to, intentionally or not, feature queer women characters in nearly all of their original programming. And what original programming it has been! A lot of the well-deserved praise for this taut, suspenseful, dystopian spy thriller has gone to J.K. Simmons for his riveting performance as two versions of the same man, one in each of the show’s two parallel worlds. But the reason I tuned in was for one of the year’s few masculine-of-center lesbian regulars: Baldwin, a trained assassin never given the chance to develop a true emotional life or any dreams of her own, a fact laid bare when she’s forced to watch her counterpart, an accomplished classical violinist, die in an alternate dimension. She struggles with her sexual and emotional connection to a sleeper agent and an unexpected romance with a waitress, as brooding butches are wont to do, but we never struggle with our affection for this unique point of connection in a really good story.— Riese Bernard
Princess Bubblegum and Marceline Smooch On-Screen, Live Happily Ever After in the “Adventure Time” Series Finale
Adventure Time is easily the most influential show in Cartoon Network’s history; echoes of its style and themes reverberate far beyond kids TV. And really Adventure Time never was kids TV. Yeah, it was animated and as silly as bing bong ping pong. But as it evolved, it became as philosophical weighty and psychologically curious as Battlestar Galactica. Fans of Princess Bubblegum and Marceline enjoyed growing canonical support of their favorite couple over the seasons, both on-screen and in spin-off comic books — but they’d never actually confirmed their relationship physically until the series finale when Bonnie got womped in the dome piece and almost croaked and Marceline rushed to her and caressed her and professed her love and they smooched right on the mouths. — Heather Hogan
“The Handmaid’s Tale” Season Two Gets Even Darker, Queerer, Curiouser and Curiouser
Season Two of Handmaid’s Tale was darker than Season One, which’s saying a lot. I mean we opened with a fake-out mass-hanging and before long Offred was basically slicing off a chunk of her own ear, then staring at the camera while we watched her bleed. And there would be so much more blood where that came from! But damn, the artistry of this brutal show and its magnificent cast, capable of communicating entire worlds without a single spoken line. The season’s most unspoken message, though, was this: pay attention. Look up. Don’t wait for them to come for you. Clea Duvall and Cherry Jones graced us with winning cameos and lesbian characters Moira (Samira Wiley) and Emily (Alexis Bledel) took greater prominence. So did Gilead’s persecution of lesbians in a specific dystopia designed by religious fundamentalists who are obsessed with traditional gender roles and able to rationalize their actions in the wake of a fertility crisis. It’s not a pleasant world to witness, yet it remains a seductive watch. Every moment of dark humor is hard-won, like, I suppose, freedom itself.— Riese Bernard
I Demand a Lesbian Cop-Show Spin-off of The End of the F*cking World
Sure, we could watch fresh-faced teen dreams fall in love in the lemon-scented hallways of suburban California high schools, or we could watch … whatever this was? A 17-year-old self-diagnosed psychopath who loves knives goes on a traveling caper with the only girl in town who’s sad, alienated and nihilistic enough to wanna run away with him. Hot on their tail are two lesbian detectives who had a thing once and definitely deserve their own show. — Riese Bernard
In this current television landscape, binges come and go. A television show drops on streaming, you watch it, maybe even obsess for a spell, and then it fades to the recesses of your memory to make room for whatever trendy new show is coming next. In those dips and waves, sometimes something really special falls through the cracks. I say that because there’s a chance that you didn’t watch Dear White People last year and that’s a mistake.
The first season of Dear White People was regrettably uneven, particularly in regards to its lesbian representation, but the second season aired this year and came back stronger, more focused, and razor-sharp! It’s a stylized and poignant exploration of being a black student at a predominantly white university that is as smart (if not smarter) than almost any other comedy I watched last year. The weekend of its drop, I finished all 13 episodes in two days. The next weekend, I watched it again. I couldn’t shake how insightful it was, how bright, how one-of-a-kind. You can watch the second season with no knowledge of the first and follow along easily. As a bonus, it comes with the bittersweet gift of two smaller, but significantly better executed black lesbian plots. One of those plots stars Lena Waithe. It also features Tessa Thompson as a parodied take on a Stacey Dash’s “black republican television pundit” figure. Her character plays out over a series of cameos, but as far as I’m concerned her final scene is worth the entire season by itself. — Carmen Phillips
“Steven Universe” Makes History, Mends Hearts in a Perfect Lesbian Wedding Episode
Steven Universe continues to explore more adult themes more fully than nearly every non-animated show on TV: family, grief, depression, commitment, betrayal, duplicitousness, forgiveness, puberty, gender, gender presentation, sexuality — and it does so in a way that’s warm and engaging and funny and, most of all, hopeful. This season, Rebecca Sugar’s beloved non-binary lesbian gems, Ruby and Sapphire, broke more ground by becoming the first same-sex couple to get married on all-ages TV. Their wedding featured masc gems in dresses, femme gems in tuxes, kisses right on the mouth, and swoon-worthy proclamations of eternal love. Also, of course, ass-kicking. Steven Universe remains one of the best shows on television, full stop. — Heather Hogan
Recaps of Season One & Two of Black Lightning
The CW has delivered a very entertaining batch of fresh-faced white superheroes determined to battle off some wacky Big Bads, but Black Lightning really elevates the genre and takes notable risks. The story is rooted halfway in this world, too, spotlighting a family wrought together over love and a deep commitment to their community and social justice, while divided on how best to manifest that commitment. Annissa Pierce, aka Thunder, became network television’s first out lesbian superhero when she debuted in early 2018. “I’ve said before that bullet proof black people is my favorite superhero trope,” Carmen wrote in a Season One recap, “but there is also something so sweet about a television lesbian who can’t be shot.” We hope to see more in future episodes of her girlfriend Grace, played by Chantal Thuy. Don’t sleep on Black Lightning. Wherever it’s going, you’ll want to be on board.— Riese Bernard
Hulu’s “The Bisexual” Is Here to Make Every Queer a Little Uncomfortable
This has been such a great year for queer weirdos with their fingers acutely upon their own pulses. In between impeccable L Word references and fetching fashion choices, The Bisexual is an uncompromising journey of sexual discovery, jump-started when Leila breaks up with her much older girlfriend (and business partner) Sadie. Akhvan’s world feels undeniably authentic — she points out that “it’s the only show on TV where you can watch two Middle Eastern women in a car, talking, taking up the screen with their different bodies and different ethnicities.” Fumbling and unafraid of its own potential, The Bisexual also portrays a multi-generational, diverse network of queer and often gender-non-conforming women in London’s East End in all its messy, self-reflexive glory. — Riese Bernard
The Good Fight lives in that very special sweet spot that I like to call organized chaos, almost ballet-like in its sweeping rhythm. It is very much a playground for Christine Baranski and Cush Jumbo to do their impeccable work. But it also, better than any other show, captures the collective meltdown that has become a ceaseless hum in Tr*mp’s America. It’s sharp, and it’s dark, and it’s still funny and fun, with a very women-driven, diverse cast. And one of its central lawyers, Maia Rindell (Rose Leslie), also happens to be a petite lesbian mired in staggering lesbian drama, and by lesbian drama I mean her girlfriend literally testifies against her in a massive court case that Maia’s parents have her swept up in! Also, in season two we learn that Maia was in love with her tennis instructor as a closeted baby gay, and I have never felt more Seen. — Kayla Kumari
Harlots Season Two Is Here, Queer and Transcendent
Harlots might be the year’s most underrated show (Seriously, how does this show earn a nearly perfect score on Rotten Tomatoes but not make it onto anybody’s Best Shows Of the Year list? I endeavor to suggest that the reason is Men). I declared Harlots the most accurate portrayal of indoor-market sex work ever represented onscreen in Season One — surprisingly more resonant to me as a former sex worker than any contemporary portrayals — and its extra queering in Season Two made it moreso and then some. If Season One was about sex work, Season Two is about the reality that what’s done to sex workers is inextricable from what’s done to all women — the lessons about power, violence, solidarity and struggle in stories about sex work are ones that the larger conversation about gender ignores at its peril. — Riese Bernard
In between High Maintenance‘s first and second season, a lot happened for husband-and-wife co-creators Ben Sinclair and Katja Blichfeld — including Katja coming out as gay, thus ending their marriage. Although the split hadn’t been finalized at the time, Season One ended with the reveal that Sinclair’s “The Guy” marijuana-delivery character lived down the hallway from his ex-wife, who’d left him for another woman. Its Season Two, then, is a long time coming and imbued with a rapturous affection for contemporary queer culture. The characters calling upon “The Guy” negotiate languid lesbian sexual dynamics, LGBT-affirming churches, sexually fluid teens and anti-Trump feminist gatherings attended by well-intentioned, hysterical liberals. Particularly touching was a bittersweet episode that saw “The Guy” visited in the hospital by aforementioned now-lesbian ex-wife. But honestly, with few exceptions every story in this scene is like a nice hybrid edible that makes you giggle, relax, and occasionally feel profound.— Riese Bernard
“Vida” Review: Starz’s New Latinx Drama Is Sexy, Soulful and Super Queer
Tragically overlooked by mainstream critics, one of 2018’s most innovatory offerings sees emotionally estranged sisters, bisexual attorney Emma (Michel Prada) and Lyn (Melissa Barrera), reuniting in their home of Boyle Heights after the death of their mother who, it turns out, was in fact dating her butch lesbian “roommate,” Eddy. Showrunner Tanya Saracho’s writing team is entirely Latinx and mostly queer, and they deftly address the complications of “gente-fication” and the joys of living breathing loving community with all the nuance and authenticity it requires. But perhaps most notable for all of us here was the graphic butch/femme sex scene that opened Episode Three. “It isn’t just about the hot sex — though the sex is very hot — it’s about creating spaces where Latinx queer bodies can feel ownership,” wrote Carmen in her recap. “It’s tearing down shame. It’s about saying that our love, our sex, our sticky sweat is valid.”— Riese Bernard
“Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” Is Singing Our Song: Valencia Has a Girlfriend!
Maybe we should’ve seen it coming — after all, soon after we meet Valencia for the first time, she’s kissing Rebecca on the dance floor and lamenting the fact that everyone wants to have sex with her — but it wasn’t until Valencia met Beth that we got to see her bisexuality as something other than comedic fodder. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend has always been a queer-friendly show but with Valencia and Beth, it finally put lady-loving ladies on centerstage. Valencia’s bisexuality was the pitch perfect end to a show-long character arc: she’s evolved from the vain yoga instructor who couldn’t build meaning relationships with women to loving, working and living with one.
The Golden Globe-winning series is currently in its fourth and final season and Valencia and Beth are still together, happy and, in an unusual twist for Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, relatively normal (unless you count the $8000 they pay in rent for their new closet size NYC apartment). We feared that the couple’s recent relocation meant that we wouldn’t get to see as much of them but the show’s found a way to bridge the distance between West Covina and New York. Hopefully, Valencia’s recent return for “the rest of the series of holidays” means we’ll finally get that lesbian loving musical number we’ve all been craving. — Natalie Duggins
While Jane the Virgin has been rightly critically acclaimed since day one and praised for its revolutionary diversity, it’s always had a complicated relationship with its queer characters. Luisa started off strong but was ultimately relegated to a one-dimensional punchline before essentially disappearing, and Rose was never really fully formed. This year, though, the writers picked up on the long-running fan theory that Petra is bisexual and agreed. Unlike Luisa, Petra actually started out as a caricature and became more layered and complicated as the show went on. Her coming out journey was essentially realizing she’s into women because her chemistry with Jane Ramos spawned a sex dream into her subconscious — and then just going for it. The self-revelation, the exploration, even the way she told Jane and Rafael about it was so sweet and sexy and prickly and Petra. Jane the Virgin has gotten better every year, and the surprise of Petra and JR’s storyline was one of the reasons season four was its best ever. — Heather Hogan
Netflix’s New “Haunting of Hill House” Gave Us a Lesbian Who Lives, Took Our Whole Weekend
The Haunting of Hill House had a challenge ahead of it with adapting its queer storyline; the original text had one of pop culture’s first recognizably lesbian characters, but preserving her “authentically” would mean falling far short of today’s expectations for representation, as in 2018 we look for more to signify lesbianism than “wears pants” and “is unmarried.” So Haunting gave us Theo, a lesbian character whose sexuality isn’t her whole storyline, but does tie into it; who goes through some wild and traumatizing stuff, but on a level that’s comparable with the also very wild and traumatizing stuff that her straight siblings go through. And in a show where romantic relationships are rocky at best, Theo does manage to both survive and get the girl. —Rachel Kincaid
As evidenced by our very own Gay Emmys, this year was a very good year for Stephanie Beatriz and her character Rosa Diaz, who came out as bisexual — like, actually said the word! — on this season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. The show itself had a good year, too, almost annoying in how persistently it outdoes itself year after year with its annual, always excellent Halloween episode. The Backstreet Boys lineup might go down as one of the greatest comedy cold opens of all time (up there with The Office’s “Fire Drill”). And even though we’re now five seasons into the series, that doesn’t mean the writers are just coasting by on humor that relies on how well we know all of these characters. It still regularly serves up new, emotional character arcs that peel back the layers to this lovable squad, as with Rosa’s personal life developments. Above all else, the show celebrates earnestness and friendship in a really lovely way that proves you don’t have to be mean or cynical to be really fucking funny. — Kayla Kumari
“One Day at a Time” Brings Even More Heart and Humor and Gayness to Season 2
There’s an easy reason that One Day at a Time shows up on so many critics’ “End of the Year” Best Lists. It’s quite simply that damn good. One Day at a Time is the most generous, compassionate, loving family sitcom on television. It’s also not afraid to have frank, sometimes dark discussions – PTSD, depression, the fragility of age, the perils of being a young queer teen, the financial struggles of being a working class family in the 21st century. It’s all on the table.
As I wrote in my Season Two review, some of the show’s brilliance comes from leaning into its multi-cam sitcom roots. One Day at a Time uses an old school format, and they are proud of it. They leverage the intimacy and familiarity of the genre to their advantage, luring their audience into cutting edge and weighty conversations from the comfort of the Alvarez’s living room. It’s a stand-out in a class of stand-outs and I would put it against any other comedy on television. In fact, I’ll go further. The fact that One Day at a Time has now gone two years without any acting or writing Emmy nominations is one of the most shaming indictments of the white, male majority of the Television Academy that we have right now. Yes, it’s just that damn good. — Carmen Phillips
“Pose” Is Full of Trans Joy, Resistance, and Love
This show just flatly rejected the idea that the best way to tell our stories is slowly, character-by-character, putting one white cisnormative queer in one show and then another show until we somehow achieve critical mass. The problem with that has often been that that’s not how we live — we’re not out here one by one, lone queers in schools/towns/families composed entirely by normals. Enter Pose: a show written by and for trans women of color, set in an era when the only thing louder than the daily trauma of oppression and omnipresent fear of HIV/AIDS were the LOOKS, and all the beautiful ways a body can move to express itself. Pose radiates with a glittery, gorgeous aesthetic and complicated characters. Trans bodies are so often portrayed as somehow tragic or compromised, and Pose — in addition to being a story about real human lives, love, friendship, and “chosen family” — is about the triumph of the body, its ability to mean as much to the world as it does to itself. — Riese Bernard
G.L.O.W. Season Two Doubles the lesbians, Doubles the Fun
After a first season that bafflingly pursued outlandish homoeroticism yet was seemingly void of homosexuals, Season Two introduced a Latina lesbian fighter and pulled Arthie off the bench for a romantic awakening. G.L.O.W., based on the real-life Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling, was a delightful mid-summer ride that took a more decidedly feminist bent as the Gorgeous Ladies explored how to advocate for, instead of against, each other, in an industry hell-bent on exploiting women for male fortune. Still, with its electrifying outfits, ostentatious costume drama and carefully-calibrated balance of comedy and drama, it only failed at one thing: an ensemble this dynamic needs longer episodes or a longer season, or both. — Riese Bernard
The Good Place, like The Office and 30 Rock before it (although I’m, admittedly, not a 30 Rock fan), has accomplished nothing short of a complete re-imagination of what the half-hour network comedy can be. It’s got everything: prestige sci-fi level world-building, cartoonish aesthetics, highbrow esoteric wit, running gags and plenty of ‘ships. Its premise, writes Sam Anderson in The New York Times, “is absurdly high concept. It sounds less like the basis of a prime-time sitcom than an experimental puppet show conducted, without a permit, on the woodsy edge of a large public park.” And yet it works. And in Season Three, The Good Place amped up Eleanor’s bisexuality and Janet’s particular take on non-binary, and we are so pleased, because that means we can put what will undoubtedly be one of the most legendary television programs of all time on lists like this one. — Riese Bernard
Killing Eve is Your New Queer Obsession
Crescendoing, relentless, all-consuming obsession fuels the narrative of Killing Eve, Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s sexy, smart, distinctly feminine action thriller starring Sandra Oh and Jodie Comer as the toxic spy-assassin duo who can’t stop thinking about each other. Watching Killing Eve feels exactly like that: seering obsession. This category was stacked with great, complex dramas, but there’s something just purely intoxicating about Killing Eve that sets it apart. Though it’s the phrase most often used to describe Eve and Villanelle’s dynamic, “cat-and-mouse” hardly covers what Oh and Comer bring to these characters or what’s even on the page. It’s never quite clear whether they want to murder each other or make out. Hunting each other, longing for each other, Eve and Villanelle might be one of the most complex queer relationships on television. But beyond that dripping subtext, it’s just a very good thriller with compelling twists and turns and sharp edges that refuse to be dulled. — Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya
This has been an unbelievable year of representation for lesbian, bisexual, queer, and trans women on television. Riese broke down GLAAD’s findings just a few weeks ago, but the bottom line is: there are more of us than ever before, on more kinds of shows than ever before, and there are more ways to watch us than ever before, and there are more queer people of color to watch than ever before. In fact, as Riese pointed out, “for the first time ever, LGBTQ characters of color (50%) outpace white (49%) characters! Just barely but still!” All of those things are evident in our TV Team’s annual list of our favorite and least favorite characters. There were so many really good LGBTQ characters on TV in 2018 that there were only a small handful of shows that we all watched (Jane the Virgin, Pose, One Day at a Time, The Bold Type, and Black Lightning.) For the first time ever on this list, you can actually see the personalities of our writers shining through in the things they chose to watch and how they chose to write about them because we weren’t all forced to watch and argue about visibility on the same six shows. Below are our choices; we’d love to hear yours!
None of these write-ups are the Official Position of Autostraddle on any of these shows or characters; they are the individual opinions of our TV writers.
Nancy Birch pinged from the jump, but in Harlots’ second season, she finally rang the bell and said out loud that she was queer, and specifically that she was in love with Margaret Wells. Maybe she always had been. Nancy — a dominatrix who’d do anything for the women she loves — sort of dresses like a low-rent pirate, and always looks vaguely hungover or that she did her makeup and then slept on it. She’s like an old-fashioned hyper-aggressive Mommi, you know? I want her to like, punish me.
Wow, why are all of my favorite characters this year basically women I want to have aggressive sex with? I’m not sure. Anyway, Villanelle is a psychopath serial killer. You know the scene where she’s eating chicken pot pie leftovers out of the container and she’s got that long winter underwear shirt on and the shirt is on top of another shirt and her elbows are on the table and she’s eating like a medieval man? Wow, right? Anyhow, Villanelle is everything we don’t want lesbian characters to be (besides dead) (and yes, I know that some people read her as bisexual and I think that’s valid and perhaps even correct, I just read her differently and I think that’s okay don’t @ me) and yet she is so fucking weird that she won my heart. I can’t wait for season two of this very bizarre show.
Ah yes, and here we have yet another slightly unstable, sexually creative, broad-shouldered woman. This show was wholly original and brutally honest and felt really fucking real. A lot of shows were like that this year — tangibly authentic because they were written by people who understood deeply the stories they were telling. Akhvan has been called “the bisexual Lena Dunham” and although it’s safe to say Lena Dunham usually sucks (although I should admit AGAIN DON’T @ ME that I did enjoy the HBO series Girls), I get the concept behind it — Leila is a little destructive and sloppy, looking for love in all the wrong places, often shooting herself in the foot. At the same time [unlike any of the girls on Girls], she is somebody I feel deep affection for. I understand why she’s doing what she’s doing, and listen, I support her journey. Plus, she is very tall and hot.
Waverly Earp continues to be such a lovely, bright spot on TV for me this year. Nicole was a strong contender for this favorite list, being a loving girlfriend, a badass sheriff and a loyal friend to the Earp girls, but the Jolene episode really cemented Waverly as the one who owns my whole soul. I’ve always identified with Waverly in some ways, and aspired to be more like her in others, so I’m obviously biased, but I think she had a really strong season. She traveled the journey of having and almost losing hope, and learning things about yourself, some that hurt and some that make you stronger. And I mean she was revealed to be a LITERAL angel. A literal queer angel born of a creature from actual heaven. She’s the light I really needed in this dark, dark year.
Sara Lance, and Legends as a whole, delights and surprises me week after week. It just keeps getting stronger and funnier and weirder in the best ways. And seeing Sara in a semi-domestic relationship with Ava, giving other people the same advice she needed two years ago – it’s been truly a wonder to behold. The show just keeps leaning into the queerness (in all senses of the word) and I think they’re better for it. I mean they have a blonde, bisexual, badass babe as the undisputed Captain of this band of time-traveling weirdos and even when they travel to times that hesitate to accept her, her team never falters.
I went into Haunting of Hill House looking for spooks and maybe some feels and it delivered on both tenfold. It had all the makings of the best horror movie you’ve ever seen, but then added a layer of character development that’s otherwise hard to accomplish in only 90 minutes. I have a special place in my heart for all the Crain siblings (except Steven… fuck Steven,) but Theo Crain wrapped her be-gloved hand around my heart and hasn’t let go since. As someone who considers herself an empath in the least supernatural sense of the word, Theo’s journey really spoke to me, and it didn’t hurt that she was also queer. Plus, (spoiler alert) despite being a queer woman in a horror scenario, she survives! It’s a miracle.
The new Charmed is, well, charming me way more than I expected. I went in hesitant because I loved the original, but hopeful because I loved the actresses cast as the new sisters. The show has proven to be so much fun, with a pointed and hopeful tone reminiscent of season one of Supergirl. I love Mel because she’s out and proud and smart and bold and not afraid to speak her mind. Well, unless she’s talking to Niko, but that’s just because she loves her a lot and can’t tell her she’s a witch! You know, normal girlfriend stuff. Anyway, I love her a lot. This season took a surprising turn for Mel and Niko’s relationship, but so far the show has given me faith that they aren’t about to sweep Mel’s queerness under the rug anytime soon.
Honestly I can’t tell you what it is about Karolina Dean that I love so much. There’s something about her story, her loyalty to her friends, her disillusionment in her parents, her discovering the power within her –and discovering she likes kissing girls (well, one girl in particular) — I love it all. Karolina and Nico’s first kiss and the way she smiled after, like she finally let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, it was so perfect. And their second, too! As much as I love me some angst, the EASE with which Karolina came out to herself was so inspiring and I think important for people to see; you’re not any less queer for not having struggled with it, you know? Anyway, I love this sunshiny rainbow and her goth girlfriend so much and can’t wait to see what they get up to in the new season.
There’s a scene in “Scream,” the Ann-centric episode in Claws‘ second season, where Desna’s trying to figure out whether to side with the Russians or Uncle Daddy and the Dixie Mafia in their ongoing feud. She turns to her crew for advice and, eventually, lands on Ann. The voiceover comes in, revealing Ann’s thought: “You’re gonna ask me about loyalty?”
That Ann’s angry at that moment isn’t a surprise to the audience — the day’s been filled with reminders of what she lost: her child, snatched from her arms at 17; her freedom, taken away when she’s sent to prison for stabbing her cheating girlfriend; her family, lost to her when she returned from prison, changed; the love of her life and her would-be family, sacrificed so that Desna could skate on a murder charge. Ann’s rage is not a surprise. What is surprising is that, rather than letting the silence lay thick or worrying about how she’s heard, as is her wont, Quiet Ann speaks for herself, “I think you got a lot of nerve asking me about loyalty.”
It’s a fundamental shift in how Claws has treated Quiet Ann for the prior 13 episodes. It also addresses one of the show’s fundamental flaws from the first season. At the time, I lamented that, despite offering us intriguing but brief glimpses into Quiet Ann, “each and every time there’s a possibility to make this show’s butch Latina into something other than a plot device, the writers go the other way.” Thankfully, with this scene, the show’s writers’ uncorked Quiet Ann. Her genie is not going back into its bottle ever again.
For the longest time, I didn’t see myself on television, but still, I had that impulse to find commonality between myself and the people that I welcomed into my home. I wouldn’t get to see all of me, but I’d always find something — Dwayne Wayne’s nerdiness, Brian Krakow’s unrequited love for Angela Chase, Pacey Witter’s “black sheep” status — to ensure that I could see some part of myself in stories that looked nothing like mine. As time passed, I started to see more characters on television that looked like me and loved like me and shared my experiences… and that representation, in a word, was amazing.
It is amazing. It’s amazing that we’ve reached a point where a person can wrap themselves in a cocoon of characters that affirm who they are on a regular basis. Is this how cis white dudes feel all the time?
This year, I’ve started to wonder — to worry, honestly — if we’ve grown too attached to the need to see ourselves on-screen. There’s value in representation, always, but there’s also value in seeing and investing in the stories that aren’t your own, particularly those from other marginalized communities. It’s how we build empathy. Are we choosing to be seen over seeing others? And, if so, what implications does that have for our community?
I stepped into the world of the 1980s New York ballroom scene over the summer, not because I saw myself in the characters immediately, but because even if I didn’t, their stories were ones worth hearing. Cis folks hear trans people’s voices most often in protest: of bathroom bills, of military service bans, of cis folks’ collective silence in the face of their community’s deaths. There’s more to the trans community than that. Pose gives trans women space to be sing, act, dance, direct and write. The show is worth watching for that reason alone.
But when you dig into Pose, you find yourself investing in these characters because, whatever our differences, we share a common humanity. I saw myself in Blanca Evangelista (played exquisitely by Mj Rodriguez), the matriarch of her chosen family. A woman who, instead of being content to inherit something, someday, took a step out on a ledge, and built something of her own. She is a woman who wants to leave a legacy, to leave some proof that she was here. She is a woman who, in the face of discrimination, keeps coming back over and over again, to move us a little closer to justice. She is a woman who cares for others and works tirelessly to secure their future. She is me, in every way that counts.
If Blanca is the person I am, Angel is the person I wish I were. There’s such a certainty to her – a certainty that I keep thinking she shouldn’t have yet, she’s so young – that I envy. Angel’s been through some stuff. As Stan says, sometimes it feels as if she’s been “disinvited from the rest of the world.” Still, she’s a believer in the possibility of it all. I long for her sense of belief and, as the season progresses, find myself drawn to Angel. That’s in part because Indya Moore is magnetic, but also because I’m desperate to protect that spirit in her. A spirit I want so desperately to see in myself.
I thought about separating Vida protagonist Emma Hernandez from her stepmother Eddy for the purpose of this list. Certainly, the commanding performances by Mishel Prada and Ser Anzoategui each deserve their own recognition.
Prada’s Emma is tightly wound and multi-layered, an iceberg whose mass is 90% beneath the surface of its tip. It’s brave to deliver such a careful performance for a character that, quite honestly, it takes a couple of episodes to even like. That’s perhaps what is most wonderful about Emma; her love is hard won. But once you’ve opened yourself to her, there’s no turning back. She’ll consume your thoughts. I know she has consumed mine.
As Eddy, Anzoategui took the complete opposite approach. They opened their emotions wide and gaping right from the first moment we meet. Eddy’s eyes are mournful and haunting, her heart feels so visceral that you can almost see it beating on the table. She’s desperate to find any way forward after the death of her wife, she’s desperate to build a relationship with the daughters she’s left behind. Anzoategui never loses themself to Eddy’s rawness, instead choosing to shade the widow’s emotions with nuance. There’s a silent bathtub scene in Vida’s third episode that I still haven’t put down nearly six months later. It’s a testament to Anzoategui’s work.
Still, the most gripping performance I saw between a pair of actors this year was the dance created between Prada and Anzoategui together. They found honesty, even when its ugly, between their characters. They found love between all the rubble and broken hardness. For that, I’m pairing them together. (The fact that Prada also had this year’s hottest sex scene certainly doesn’t hurt.)
I’ve tried writing about Pose at least four times, and each time it’s ended up in the scrap pile because, really, what is there to say? Its goodness has surpassed words. Yes, watching Pose is important and culturally significant because it boasts the largest cast of trans women of color in television history. I do not want to shortchange that fact. I also wouldn’t want the historical weight of this moment to overshadow the fact that Pose is just damn good, supremely crafted television. It’s not a stretch to say that you’ll see it on a lot of critic’s year end lists, and not just the gay ones. This show is a powerhouse; it’s a force to be reckoned with.
Natalie is absolutely right: it’s important to watch television that doesn’t necessarily reflect you. I’d go as far as to argue that as a queer community, it’s our responsibility to lift up those voices of our siblings who aren’t being heard. We have to see our own humanity, because few others will grant us such grace. That said, the reason I love Blanca Evangelista (richly colored and portrayed by Mj Rodriguez) is because of how much she reminds me of myself. I wrote this summer, “Blanca Evangelista is the kind of character I’ve been waiting my whole life for. She’s an Afro-Latina, Puerto Rican, and fighting like hell to keep her queer chosen family together and make a name for herself in this world.” It’s still true. She’s the closet I’ve ever come to seeing all of me at once. And for that, she will always have my heart.
Judy Reyes proved this year that it’s not the size of the role, it’s what you do with it. I’m selecting Quiet Ann for this list based on the strength of one single episode.
“Scream” was an episode of queer women’s television unlike almost any other this year. It’s a stand out in a year full of stand outs. In fact, I’d argue that even when we take a long historical eye towards the queer women’s TV canon, this episode is still going to hold its own. In less than 45 minutes, Reyes took a someone who previously had not been much more than a silent comic relief and perfunctory side character, and found the depths of her soulfulness. It’s hard to do much with a character who rarely talks, a character for whom “quiet” is literally in her name. Yet, Reyes proved that Anne isn’t quiet because she’s an afterthought. She’s quiet because she’s interior to herself. She’s thoughtful and considerate. She’s full of pain and remorse, but also stubborn hopefulness in the face of hopeless surroundings. It’s hard to bring such meditative introspection to a television dramedy that’s made a name for itself in over the top parody, but the Scrubs alum is the exact right woman for the job. She threads the needle every time.
ANISSA. MOTHER F*CKING. PIERCE. If you didn’t think I was going to include our very own black lesbian superhero on this list, you were gravely mistaken. Before she even made her debut last January, Anissa’s bonafides spoke for themselves. She’s the first lesbian superhero on the CW. She’s the first black lesbian superhero ever. She’s a bullet-proof black lesbian on the very network that, until perhaps recently, was most famously tied to the killing of one of their lesbian characters with a gunshot. She’s a bullet-proof black lesbian in a country where black people are still fighting for the very respect of our lives as we continue to be shot down as victims of police and state violence. And that was all before the first episode aired.
What followed was even better. Anissa is brave; she’s tenacious (okay, and a little impetuous); she’s smart – like nerdy book smart, she’s in medical school smart; she loves her family and fights against systemic injustices in her community. She also has relatable flaws. She puts up walls and flits between romantic loves because the very idea of commitment startles her. Did I mention she’s been gifted with some of the best fight choreography this year? And that those fights happen almost exclusively against other women badasses? Nafessa Williams has delivered an easy-to-love performance this year, and I can’t wait to keep on loving her!
I recently came across a tweet on my timeline where a fan described Catra’s storyline as one of the best origins for an antihero this year. And sure, maybe that sounds hyperbolic, but I think that fan was on to something. It’s easy to care for Catra right from the beginning. She has a comeback for every putdown. She’s almost effortlessly cool with her torn up black jeans and perfectly spiked hair. She’s all edge and dark, warm colors in She-Ra’s otherwise pastel rainbow colored We’re Going To Win in the End! world. Most interestingly, Catra is dangerous. She’s legitimately threatening.
I intended for She-Ra to be pleasant background noise while I completed my Saturday morning chores, but Catra demanded all of my attention. What became clear was how much Catra hurt. She deeply felt the loss of her best friend. Her funny comebacks were thinly veiled covers for the old wounds she didn’t want you to see. She self-sabotaged herself at every turn, as if she was afraid to really try. By the time I arrived at the episode dealing with the emotional abuse that Catra and She-Ra dealt with in their childhood, I was in tears. I don’t remember the last time I cried at animation not made by Pixar! Here was Catra, filled up with a lifetime’s worth of pain and just trying to bottle it before it poured over everything.
It’s hard to make an animated villain that doesn’t feel, well, broad and cartoon-sh. Catra was completely three-dimensional. Also, did you catch her in that tux at Princess Prom? Can you swoon over a cartoon character? Because I think I just did.
The second I set my eyes upon the gay art Mommi that is Sadie, I was smitten! Look, like all characters on The Bisexual, she has her flaws. She makes Leila’s own sexuality journey kind of about herself. And then she rebounds with her employee. But, would I gladly volunteer to co-parent the child she desperately wants to have? Fuck YES. Ruin me, Mommi!
I really, really loved Haunting Of Hill House and aside from its technical stunner of a sixth episode, the best chapter is easily the one dedicated to its resident empathic lesbian Theodora Crain. Because of her, I firmly believe that gloves should be a lesbian fashion trend. Let’s just say that an emotionally withholding, somewhat messy lesbian who tries to fuck way her problems is… something I’m very drawn to.
Am I listing my favorite television characters or the television characters I want to date? SAME THING! Jane Ramos’ intense confidence and the way she gradually melts over Petra Solano was easily one of my favorite parts of Jane The Virgin this year.
Okay, so we barely got a glimpse at Arthie’s sexuality questioning or the potentially blossoming romance between her and Yolanda last season of GLOW, but I’m so starved for queer South Asian representation that I gotta give her a shoutout. Hopefully next year on GLOW brings much more!
She’s hot; she’s complicated; she’s a control freak; she’s an emotional disaster. So Vida’s Emma hits all the right buttons when it comes to the television characters I enjoy watching. Crying while masturbating? A goddamn icon.
Brooklyn Nine-Nine has always been one of my favorite can’t-miss shows, but in 2018 I became a full-on evangelist for it, largely because of the way it handled Rosa’s coming out storyline. First of all, because noted bisexual Stephanize Beatriz was consulted by the writers on it; and second of all, because it was just so good. It’s very rare to see a character come out as bisexual and say the word “bisexual.” It’s even rarer when it’s an established character on a broadcast network show. What made Rosa’s story great was more than just the stats. It was just so Rosa. The sheepish, but gruff, way she told Boyle she was dating a woman. The time limit she gave the squad — exactly one minute and zero seconds — to ask questions. And then her heartbreaking, heartwarming, uncompromising coming out episode with her parents. It was so funny and so real and so Rosa.
One Day at a Time has been on for two seasons and I’ve probably watched it more than any other comedy ever, besides The Golden Girls. (And, as you’ll see by comparing my list to everyone else’s, my heart beats for comedies.) Often times sitcoms stop with the revelation of a queer character’s sexuality — but ODAAT gave Elena a season two storyline that was as sweet and awkward as any first time queer romance I’ve ever seen on TV. I scooted closer to the TV when she was trying to figure out if Syd liked her, cheered when they had their first kiss, and swooned like a cartoon character when they went to their first dance together. Plus, Elena had lots to do outside of her relationship; she grew as an individual person, too, learning more about herself, her culture, her family, and even her gender presentation.
Because I am a human afflicted with humanity’s narcissism I am most drawn to TV characters whose bumbling, sweet nerdiness (see above) remind me of myself or whose sense of moral courage and heroism (see below) show me the me I want to be. What I am not drawn to is messy TV characters, especially messy queer women TV characters — but among the many revelations I had while watching Desiree Akhavan’s The Bisexual this year was that messy queer women TV characters are usually just sloppily written queer women TV characters. Akhavan’s Lelia is generous and selfish and hard and sharp and still full of wonder and boi is she messy! But that only made me love her more! She’s authentic in a way I’m not sure I’ve experienced from a mid-30s queer woman on television. And the way the show explores her bisexuality is definitely not something I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t indict anyone; it just asks a lot of questions and generously explores the answers.
I was more excited about Netflix’s She-Ra reboot than anyone I know and was also more surprised than anyone when it exceeded every one of my expectations, including the fact that it’s maybe the queerest thing I have ever seen on TV in my life. Just so casually unapologetically queer. Adora, to me, is the perfect metaphor for growing up in an oppressive, oh let’s say, conservative white evangelical Christian community and lucking your way out of it to fight on the side of the good guys (who you’d been taught were the bad guys). She’s tough and smart and destined for greatness as she chooses goodness and also she just loves horses! (And Catra.)
I know this show has been out for several months now, but I still don’t want to spoil anyone who hasn’t seen it. I’ll just say that if Maya Rudolph doesn’t win an Emmy for playing a middle-aged woman whose simmering desires and rage are awakened by another middle-aged women who’s even angrier than she is, I will be shocked. This is one of those rare shows that when I was watching it, I was like, “Wait, have I never seen this queer story before? I haven’t! I really haven’t!” (Also, if you still haven’t read Caity Weaver’s profile of Maya Rudolph, you really have to rectify that.)
That they got married on Cartoon Network and smooched right on their non-binary femme Gem lips would be enough, but it’s not just the revolutionary representation that made them so great (again) this year; it’s that they’re brilliantly written characters who grow together and apart. They’re badass and they’re adorable and when Garnet marched into the most epic battle of her life, in her wedding dress, her battlecry was the best description of a relationship I have ever heard: “I am the will of two gems to care for each other, to protect each other from any threat, no matter how vast or how cruel!” Y’all couldn’t stop her 5,750 years ago and you cannot stop her now.
I started watching The Purge to see AZMarie do pull-ups in a sports bra, and found myself surprisingly drawn into the show as a whole, primarily into a love triangle between Lila, Jenna and Rick. Mostly because I was certain Rick was an asshole and Jenna was going to leave him for her true love, Lila, with whom she exchanged sweet kisses by the pool at a white supremacist murder party. Lila was not like her terrible parents! She was a lesbian who loved equality for all mankind! Then, over the course of two episodes, she slipped directly into the gaping maws of the psycho lesbian trope, which led to her eventual death.
Like Riese, I also had high hopes for Jenna and Lila at the beginning of this show, with the sexy flashbacks and the sexier poolside kiss. I thought for sure she was going to ditch her scheming, potato-of-a-man husband before things got too insane. Alas, she chose wrong. I also quit this show before having to watch Lila be tripped up by tropes because it’s 2018 and self-care is important.
I get that V didn’t have a lot of experience with bisexual people before she started being in a throuple with Kev and Svetlana, but I feel like she was very willing to go back to IDing as straight after Svetlana left (well, after she ACTIVELY made life miserable for Svetlana) and try to chalk it up to being kinky. Also, I’m mad that after eight full seasons of wishing for Fiona to realize she was bisexual, and really thinking they were going to go there with Nessa, they made DEBBIE be the Gallagher sister in a relationship with a woman?? DEBBIE??? I love this show, but hoo boi they made me mad this year. Don’t even get me STARTED on the Gay Jesus cult. JUST DON’T. I’m going to finish out the season but if they really think they can go on without Emmy Rossum they have another thing coming.
Peach is on my “worst” list not because I didn’t like her, but because i didn’t like her storyline. She started off so great. Shay Mitchell delivered her strongest acting performance to date, and Peach was the only voice of reason for miles around. However, if people who read the book hadn’t already told me she was a lesbian, I wouldn’t have known until it was revealed that she was maybe a psychopath and had dozens of photos of Beck sleeping and/or half-naked that didn’t appear to be taken with consent. :deep sigh: I stopped watching after she was smashed on the head with a rock but before she was murdered, and frankly I think the new exorcism movie Shay is in will treat her better than this show did.
This one hurts, y’all.
I wanted Nova Bordelon to be great. I wanted this character, an original creation of Ava DuVernay’s designed to add to the rich tapestry penned by Natalie Baszile, to be great. I wanted this character, imbued with the spirit and identity of the founders of the Black Lives Matter movement, to be great. And, most of all, I wanted this character, played by Rutina Wesley, who I’ve adored (read: thirsted over) since long before she came out as queer last year, to be great. I wanted Nova Bordelon to be great – for Rutina, for me, for the culture.
But, oh no…
Because, even though it’s 20GAYteen, and even though GLAAD gave Ava DuVernay an “Excellence in Media” award, Nova Bordelon was not great this season. Over the last two years, Queen Sugar has erased Nova’s bisexuality from her identity and it’s been so disheartening to watch. Hearing Nova cry out for freedom, echoing the very words she said to her girlfriend in Season One, to her sister’s ex-boyfriend, Remy, of all people has been like pouring salt in an open wound.
Carmen and I talked about a lot of this back in August when the latest season of Queen Sugar wrapped, so I won’t belabor the point too much, but I will say this: one of the things that made this television show great, from the outset, was its full-hearted embrace of revolutionary politics. Carmen, quite rightly, called the first season a “black feminist masterclass.” It stood firmly on the side of justice and representation and was unapologetic about it. What worries me about Queen Sugar’s bisexual erasure is that it might be symptomatic of a shift, away from the revolutionary, and more towards the respectable.
And if that’s the case — if this once revolutionary show is going to embrace respectability politics — then it has become a shell of its former self and may not be worth investing in at all anymore.
Earlier this year, when I was putting together our March Madness competition, I decided to create an International region, as a small way to acknowledge Autostraddle’s international readership. I scoured the Internet in search of 16 kisses worthy of inclusion in our contest and, in doing so, I stumbled upon Perdona nuestros pecados (Forgive Our Sins), a Chilean telenovela set in the fictional town of Villa Ruiseñor during the 1950s. The lesbian storyline on the show features Mercedes Möller, the sheltered daughter of the town’s mayor, and Bárbara Roman, the cosmopolitan but stifled wife of the town’s new police commissioner. They grabbed my attention in a way that few shows I discovered would — I’m pretty sure it was the couple’s second kiss in the church that hooked me — and I grew to love this pairing.
I’d watch the show live and glean what I could from the context and what little Spanish I know. I’d follow the hashtags on social media, discuss the show with other fans and eagerly wait for clips of the show and their translations. And, if the show had ended with its first season (which, by the way, included one of the best lesbian love scenes I’ve ever seen on TV), I would have no doubt included Bárbara and Mercedes among my picks for the Best of 2018. But apparently, even though it’s 20GAYTeen, I still cannot have nice things.
In an unprecedented move, the network decided to extend the telenovela for a second season and, for a while, it was good. With the romance between the women cemented, the story became more about the drama which was to be expected. Then the wheels came off and the writers subjected this couple to one awful trope after another and dug themselves into a hole so deep that they couldn’t really get out of it — and, in the process, diminished this once great couple.
Because we’re talking about our least favorite characters and we include pictures with our posts, it’s easy to attach our scorn to the actors but, honestly, it’s hardly ever about them (María Bello and Soledad Cruz were amazing). As with so many queer stories on television, Bárbara and Mercedes faltered because the writers got lazy. Too often, writers pen beautiful storylines about women falling in love because, even if they’re not queer women, that’s the part that they understand.After that, when it’s time to write about what a relationship between two women actually looks like, they can’t even fathom it. So, instead, they reach for tropes, either not realizing they were tropes or wrongly believing that they could succeed where so many others failed (spoiler alert: you can’t).
We need writers to do better. Be creative or, better yet, hire queer women to tell their stories. I only hope the writers behind Bárbara and Mercedes learn that lesson before the possible spin-off.
That sure was a rollercoaster! Like Riese, I came to The Purge with very low expectations, just wanting to see AzMarie sweat a bit in a sports bra (by the way, not nearly enough of that! Thanks for nothing, show). And much like Valerie, I was a goner from the first poolside kiss. I was 100% certain that The Purge was going to end with Jenna and Lila was the quintessential horror movie “final girls,” raising the sword of justice and holding each other in their arms as daybreak rose on another day. They were going to be the Lesbian Avengers! The complete set up was there! Instead Jenna decided to raise her baby with a potato sack and Lila got a complete and total personality transplant! Why? I have no idea! I assume because without turning her into a psycho trope at the last minute, her death wouldn’t have made any sense! So the writers forgot all their character development, Lila turned into some caricature from The Hand that Rocks the Cradle, and then she died. Good times, folks. Good times.
Natalie said all that needed be said upthread. The only thing I have to add are my tears.
Do you want the salted water from my very body Queen Sugar? Take it. You’ve already taken everything else.
This was the weirdest year because almost no one on our TV team could think of any characters we hated. Even when we started digging down into, like, “Okay, but who was just written poorly?” I don’t know if that’s because there was so much excellent queer TV, none of us watched what was subpar; or if most things really were just good this year. Either way, that’s an excellent problem to have and my answer to this question is Peach Sallinger. It’s not because she was a lesbian psycho; I don’t mind that trope anymore and, frankly, it was refreshing to see Shay Mitchell play just a hardcore bitch. But like Valerie said, she was so underwritten it was hard to tell if she really was going to be a lesbian at all and then she got walloped in the skull with a rock almost as soon as we found out. Honestly, even if she’d lived, it wouldn’t have been worth the investment because every goddamn minute of this show was voiced-over by Dan Fucking Humphrey.
Welcome to my page. I hope I didn’t scare you with that headline, which reads a lot like something else at a quick glance! Today we’re talking about fanficking, or the act of bringing fanfic to life.
Fanfic, for a refresher, started as fan-based storytelling incorporating characters and settings from original works of fiction, although I’m sure the confines of source material have bled into the margins over time and there’s now fanfic about like, Benjamin Franklin and the Babadook. While I know this isn’t all fanfic, modern fanfic, from what I can tell, has come to mean romanticizing or sexualizing an otherwise platonic fictional or non-fictional pairing, as in “I’m going to write fanfic about Wonder Woman and most of Themyscira,” or expanding upon an already established fictional or non-fictional pairing, as in, “I’m going to write fanfic about the gay Vegas ad couple.”
It’s in this way that fanfic has become an invaluable resource/outlet for the queer community, who is so often denied the love stories it craves in every possible avenue. We can’t even get the Applebee’s to-go customer and the Applebee’s to-go employee being backed by Melissa Etheridge to get the recognition they deserve. Sad!
This is where Halloween comes in. It’s an opportunity to bring fanfic to life and level the scales. Obviously, this can be done every day with a little thing called role-play, but no one gets to see that, unless they do, given everyone is aware! Halloween is where you – no, we – can shine publicly.
Doing my part to get this fanficking ball rolling, on Halloween I will be the Debbie to my girlfriend’s Ruth from GLOW.
You may have seen a couple pieces from us about the gay undertones of GLOW that have only marginally been made explicit in season two. In particular, the painfully stunted portrayal of Debbie and Ruth’s dynamic is an extra special denial of obvious sexual chemistry and genuine romantic love, made proof by the fact that one of them usually leaves the room screaming crying after having a conversation.
This is not how adult friends act! Here’s a list of some more things that strictly platonic adult friends don’t do, that Debbie and Ruth have done:
And yet we have been forced to watch Debbie trying to get back with her husband, Ruth entertaining being courted by the camera guy, and Ruth testing the waters with their terrible writer/directer. So, we will be righting these wrongs by showing up at every function as Ruth and Debbie, The Couple. It’s a backstory that will appeal to less than five percent of the people in any given area, but if I’ve gotta watch a shoehorned romance between a straight man and Michelle Rodriguez in an action movie, you’re gonna hear about this damn Netflix Original couple.
Also, I’m interested to see where I am mentally, and I guess physically, embodying a character that I am devastatingly attracted to. Should be a fun night!
I bet it’d be fun for you, too. I’m no date expert, but this could be a great first (or second or third) date, because then you sort of have to make out, for the cause. So, if there’s a duo (trio, etc.) in media or history that you know were together/belonged together but have been cast as platonic friends and/or business partners, I ask that you join us and tag Autostraddle on Instagram with a picture of your pairings so I can compile a beautiful list of gay dreams come true.
I love you.
This post was written by Carmen, Natalie, and Kayla.
2018!! I don’t know if you’ve felt it yet, but we certainly have. This is the year where lesbian, bisexual, queer, and trans women of color are taking over your television screens. Not just in terms of volume (though it does feel like more of us are getting our time on screen), but in terms of quality and depth and agency.
With cable shows like Vida and Pose burning up the summer with lesbian, queer, and trans women of color protagonists, along winter favs like Black Lightning’s black lesbian superhero Anissa Pierce and One Day at a Time’s always perfect Latina lesbian teenager Elena Alvarez keeping us warm through the cold months – it’s time we stand up and pay attention.
Carmen, Natalie, and Kayla have been talking about this trend a lot recently. So, when Heather suggested we put together a list of our favorite queer and trans women of color crushing 2018, we jumped at the chance!
Hope you enjoy!
Written by Natalie
Where to watch: STARZ, STARZ Add-on on Hulu or Amazon Prime
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 102, “Episode 2“; 103, “Episode 3”
It may be hard to imagine, between how season one of Vida begins for Eddy — with the death of her wife — and how it ends — with her laid, battered and bruised, in a hospital bed — that she would be among the list of characters crushing it in 2018. But, what lies between how it began and how it ended is evidence of a love so deeply felt that even death could not diminish it. Eddy devotes her entire self to ensuring that the dreams she once had with Vida all come true: she is remodeling their bar, reuniting their family and, slowly, making things right with Emma.
A love more powerful than death? Yeah, Eddy is definitely crushing it.
Written by Carmen
Where to watch: FX, Amazon Prime, iTunes
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 101, “Pilot”; 106, “Love is the Message“
First thing: If you are not yet watching F/X’s Pose then you absolutely should be. It’s produced by Janet Mock (and Ryan Murphy), it has trans women (Janet Mock and Our Lady J) in the writers room, it has trans women directing episodes (Oh look! Janet, again!), and it boasts the largest cast of trans women ever on television. This is what we are talking about when we say that representation matters.
It’s more than just a number’s game. Blanca Evangelista is the kind of character I’ve been waiting my whole life for. She’s an Afro-Latina, Puerto Rican, and fighting like hell to keep her queer chosen family together and make a name for herself in this world. MJ Rodriguez is a breakout star and now that she has your attention, she’s damn sure running with it. I dare you to watch her and try and take your eyes away. You can’t. It’s impossible.
Written by Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya
Where to watch: Freeform, Amazon Prime, iTunes
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 201, “Feminist Army”; 202, “Rose Colored Glasses”; 203, “The Scarlet Letter”
Adena has always been one of the most compelling characters on The Bold Type, even when the show sometimes struggles to figure out where to place her in an episode. She’s confident, talented, and not afraid to push back on others, even challenging her girlfriend’s parents a bit when they try to minimize the power of labels. She has always been proud of being a Muslim lesbian, and she’ll never stop telling people who she is. Her conversation with Kat at the beginning of season two is groundbreaking in its depiction of the complicated, intimate, sometimes uncomfortable conversations that two sexual partners should have in order to have more fulfilling sex lives and relationships. The fact that it happens between two femmes of color makes it all the more special.
Written by Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya
Where to watch: The CW, Netflix
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 412, “Chapter 76”; 414, “Chapter 78”; 415, “Chapter 79”; 416, “Chapter 80”
We all felt it. That small shift in the universe when Jane Ramos a.k.a. JR showed up in Petra Solano’s life. The chemistry was undeniable, Rosario Dawson oozing with a sensuality that somehow seemed explicitly queer right off the bat. JR may have made some mistakes—namely, succumbing to blackmail and losing her license to practice law in the process—but the way her attraction and feelings for Petra develop is so pure and tingly, full of the kind of bright but believable romance that this show does so dang well.
Written by Natalie
Where to watch: The CW, Netflix
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 102, “LaWanda: The Book of Hope“; 105, “And Then the Devil Brought the Plague: The Book of Green Light”
So this feels a little literal, no? I mean, from the moment she grabs the rim of the porcelain sink in her bathroom, only to have it break off in her hands, Anissa Pierce is, quite literally, crushing it. She repeats this feat throughout the season, donning the Thunder suit, crushing the enemies of truth and justice, with enviable swagger. In a world that insists on reminding us of how vulnerable we are, here comes Thunder, a bulletproof black lesbian, to remind us the bounds of black girl magic may well be limitless.
That said, I wouldn’t mind if Black Lightning found more time in season two to let Anissa Pierce crush it outside her Thunder suit.
Written by Carmen
Where to watch: STARZ, STARZ Add-on on Hulu or Amazon Prime
Episode(s) where they crushed it: All of Them! But also, 103, “Episode 3”; 104, “Episode 4“
Emma Hernandez, Vida’s central protagonist had quite the arc in just six episodes. She was forced to move home to help deal with her mother’s death. Her mother, who ostracized Emma as a teenager because of her homosexuality, turned out to be gay herself and secretly married to a woman that Emma now must share her inheritance with. That’s… ummm… a lot of baggage. She also has to save her family from financial ruin, figure out how keep their business out of the hands of greedy developers, and – SURPRISE! – keep herself together when her old ex-girlfriend somehow becomes her very new love interest all over again. Somehow, Emma finds a way to balance all of those complexities with grit and power you can’t turn your eyes away from.
Also, she starred in the best, most raw queer women’s sex scene ever filmed for television. Ever. EVER. Yeah, I’d call that crushing it.
Written by Natalie
Where to watch: TNT, Amazon Prime, iTunes
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 204, “Scream”
The Dalai Lama once said, “don’t ever mistake my silence for ignorance, my calmness for acceptance or my kindness for weakness. Compassion and tolerance are not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength.” Few characters embody that as well as Quiet Ann Zayas. Slowly but surely, Claws continues to peel back the layers of Ann to reveal Ann, the young mother, forced to give up her child at 17, and Ann, the college-educated polyglot who was once married to a male professor, and Ann, the unapologetic dyke who gave up the love of her life to protect the family she’d chosen. Ann might not be saying much, but there’s strength in her silence and we’d all do well to pay attention.
Written by Natalie
Where to watch: FX, Amazon Prime, iTunes
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 103, “Giving and Receiving”; 106, “Love Is the Message”
Soon after Pose first premiered, Ryan Murphy sent out a since-deleted tweet bemoaning that, as Angel climbed into the car with a john, the audience seemed frightened for her. He wouldn’t do that to one of his characters, he assured us, seemingly ignoring that for years, depictions of sex featuring trans women on television — especially trans women who are sex workers — have been tied to danger. Pose, and especially Angel Evangelista, are rewriting everything we’ve been programmed to believe about trans women and sexuality, and it is glorious.
There is no greater example of Angel absolutely crushing it than in Pose‘s most recent episode, where she stands unapologetically in her truth, as she’s confronted by her ex-boyfriend’s wife. She is unbothered and unbossed and encourages us to be the same.
Written by Kayla
Where to watch: Netflix
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 208, “The Good Twin”; 210, “Every Potato Has A Receipt”
Arthie and new girl on the GLOW squad Yolanda Rivas become roommates during season two and, well, crushing-on-a-roommate is a queer tale as old as time. Arthie is still in the very early stages of her coming out journey, but even their idiot director Sam can see the hearts in her eyes for Yolanda. They share a dreamy dance in one episode (and we all know how I feel about the concept of two women ballroom dancing together), and Arthie even shows up at the strip club to support her gal pal and appears to be having the time of her little baby queer life there. It’s still incredible rare to see South Asian queer women on television, and I’m beyond excited by the prospect of Arthie’s sexuality journey (Spoiler alert: They kiss in the season finale!) being explored more next season.
Written by Carmen
Where to watch: Freeform, Amazon Prime, iTunes
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 201, “Feminist Army”; 205, “Stride of Pride”; 206, “The Domino Effect”
Do you know who has been really growing as a person lately? The Bold Type’s Kat Edison. She’s just been sprouting all over the place, like the new buds on a spring tree. She went down on a woman for the first time. She’s confronted her own internalized bias and blind spots about race. She’s introduced her girlfriend to her parents. She’s held her friends accountable about their privilege, even when that meant having the tough convos. I just feel so proud of her, you know? And sure, growth is not always pretty. It’s often downright messy, I think Kat is learning that the hard way right now. But hey, even at her messiest she’s making out with hot girls on the dance floor. There are worst places to be.
(I love #Kadena, ok! And I believe they will make it through this rough patch! Please don’t fight me!)
Written by Carmen
Where to watch: FOX, Hulu
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 522, “Jake & Amy”
The legend of Rosa Diaz will be spoken of in hushed, reverent tones throughout queer women’s television folklore for years to come. First, Stephanie Beatriz came out as bisexual. Then, just 18 months later, so did the character she plays on TV. And if that wasn’t enough, somehow in 2018 Stephanie Beatriz threaded the needle just right so GINA FREAKING RODRIGUEZ could play her potential new love interest!! How did she work such bruja magic? Honestly, I don’t know and I don’t care. In the Brooklyn 99 season finale, Rodriguez’s character hopped out of that Lyft she was driving and into our hearts.
Anyone who can pull such a hottie deserves to be on this list. Four for you Rosa Diaz, you go Rosa Diaz.
Written by Natalie
Where to watch: Hulu, iTunes
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 108, “Karma’s a Bitch”; 109, “Trapped”
In her TV retrospective last year, Riese pointed out that only 16 of the 204 lesbian, bisexual and queer female characters, were masculine-of-center so adding a dapper butch like Hen Wilson to a diminishing MOC roster is a welcome treat (especially when she looks like Aisha Hinds).
On 9-1-1, Hen is allowed to do what straight women on primetime television have been allowed to do for years: crush it in their professional lives — Hen literally saves a homeless man from being crushed by a trash compactor in one episode — while being all kinds of messy in their personal lives. Thankfully, by the end of the season, Hen’s come to her senses and made her wife and son her priority.
Written by Carmen
Where to watch: CBS, Amazon Prime, iTunes
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 414, “Refuge”
Kat! Kat, Kat, Kat. She’s brilliant, passionate, and her swag can be seen from outer-fucking-space! I could write a thousand love letters to Sara Ramirez’s most recent television turn as policy advisor Kat Sandoval (and thankfully because of my job at Autostraddle, I have), but perhaps no moment on network television has thus far better exemplified a queer woman of color “crushing it” in 2018 than Kat coming out as bi and queer to her work colleague Jay:
“I [used to have] long hair. I wore dresses and heels. And, sometimes it felt like me? And sometimes it felt like a costume that I had to wear in order to survive – to gain access. Now I don’t have to fit in to play the game. Now I make my own rules. And number one is being my authentic self.”
CRUSHED IT.
Written by Kayla
Where to watch: Netflix
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 202, “Candy Of The Year”; 208, “The Good Twin,” 210, “Every Potato Has A Receipt”
The most glaring issue with GLOW’s first season is its lack of lesbians. Season two adds out wrestler Yolanda, who, when Alison Brie’s Ruth asks her if she likes girls, matter-of-factly replies “I LOVE girls.” She’s super out and super confident, quickly becoming a part of the tight-knit GLOW sisterhood.
Written by Natalie
Where to watch: Netflix
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 113, “Quinces”; 208, “What Happened”
Television likes to tell certain stories about queer teens — either everything is awful or everything is great — but the truth of that lived experience often falls somewhere in between. Few characters have reflected that reality better than Elena Alvarez. Her first crush has a boyfriend but she awkwardly falls into a loving relationship, nonetheless. Elena knows who she is and even who she wants to be with but she doesn’t have everything figured out. She stumbles trying to make her relationship work.
“I’m moving on with my life. I’m gonna be fine,” Elena tells her unsupportive father during ODAAT‘s second season. “I’m just really bummed out for you. You’re gonna miss stuff and that sucks, ’cause I’m pretty great.”
We know, Elena, we know.
Written by Kayla
Where to watch: The CW, Netflix, Amazon Prime
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 214, “The Hills Have Eyes”; 215, “There Will Be Blood”; 217, “The Noose Tightens,” 222, “Brave New World”
Toni’s relationship with Cheryl Blossom was one of the most exciting developments of Riverdale’s last season, but I think it’s important to note that Toni also very much stands on her own as a character. Her loyalty to the serpents and her convictions in her beliefs are strongly felt in all of her actions. She calls out the whitewashing of the town’s history and takes a stand. She’s also fun and flirty and a supportive force for Cheryl, who doesn’t have many people in her life she can trust. She also literally executes a conversion therapy camp rescue mission like a goddamn Bisexual Batman. I’m thrilled that Vanessa Morgan has been upped to regular status for season three.
Written by Kayla
Where to watch: STARZ, STARZ Add-on on Hulu or Amazon Prime
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 102, “Episode 2“; 104, “Episode 4“; 106, “Episode 6”
Cruz might not be the biggest player on Vida, but her presence is electric from the start. She bursts back into Emma’s life like a flash flood when she appears in the pilot, and even though very little is said, it’s clear right away that these two women mean something to each other. The sexual tension persists, finally boiling over when Emma ends up partying with Cruz and her crew of hot qpoc at a bar one night. Cruz challenges Emma, but she also sees her. Hopefully we’ll be seeing more of her in season two.
Written by Carmen
Where to watch: Freeform, Netflix
Episode(s) where they crushed it: 513, “Line in the Sand”; 518, “Just Say Yes” ; 522, “Where the Heart Is”
2018 has thus far been banging for queer women of color on television. I would go so far as to call it a landmark. A breakthrough, even! But, there was a time when our waters were much more choppy. There was a biracial black lesbian on TV who had to hold it down almost entirely by herself. That lesbian was Lena Adams-Foster.
This year The Fosters gave her a happy ending fit for a social justice queen – gorgeous as ever, Lena’s out there making her mark in the world, skinny dipping with her hot wife in the Caribbean and running for California State Assembly.
So, this one’s for you, Lena! Thank you for your effortless boho style, your giving heart, your generous spirit. You crushed it for five long years. We will never forget you.
This post was written by Riese and Heather
Caution: Many spoilers below for Season Two of GLOW!
Last week Netflix dropped season two of its much loved ladies’ wrestling dramedy, GLOW, and we were very excited about it this time because we knew going in they’d finally added a legitimate queer character to the mix! Her name is Yolanda, aka Yo-Yo, a Mexican American dancer/stripper who replaced Cherry, an actress who took a shot at starring in a TV show at the end of last season. Another queer woman of color on TV? Yes! What we didn’t expect was for GLOW to add a second queer character; another queer woman of color, in fact. Over the course of Season Two, Mad Bomber Arthie Premkumar, the Indian-American med student who joined the circuit last season because she was strapped for cash, realized that hey, she’s gay too — and she’s got some feelings for Yolonda.
I wouldn’t call them “main characters,” really; their queer storylines don’t take up a whole lot of time over the course of the season’s ten episodes, but the moments they do share are sweet and fun and they feel real in your guts.
Below Riese and I chat about this glorious couple, our hopes and dreams for their future, and whether or not GLOW should tackle the tougher gay topics of the ’80s.
Heather: I think you and I felt the same way about Season One of GLOW, which is that we’re always annoyed at TV shows that don’t have lesbian or bisexual characters, but when it’s an entire ensemble of basically only women and it’s on Netflix of all places, what in the world, man? Come on!
Riese: Yeah it was BANANAS. Plus it’s a Jenji Kohan production. That’s what made Erin’s post I LOVE THAT HETEROSEXUAL SHOW GLOW! so perfect, is that this is the kind of show that twenty years ago would be entirely subtext but guess what ladies it’s 2017, you cannot have that many women in shiny leotards grabbing each other’s inner thighs without anybody being gay. That’s homophobic. My resentment of their failure to deliver me a lesbian clouded my ability to truly enjoy Season One. I’ve already watched Season Two twice.
Heather: Let’s just jump right in with Yolanda because the show jumped right in with Yolanda. I love a good coming out story as much as any other lesbian of a certain age who never saw coming out stories when she was a child, but I appreciated that they just got Yolanda’s sexuality out of the way right away. She’s confident about it, honestly to the point of brashness, which I particularly liked because it makes sense in the context of this show in the ’80s in the sports world — which, outside of the WNBA and MLS, is still frankly homophobic as hell — for someone who’s out to overcompensate by being OUT.
Riese: I don’t know that I’d categorize this show as being part of the sports world, I think of it more as live theater? They do have storylines, and modern-day pro wrestling has some gay stuff although apparently it’s not done very well, necessarily. But otherwise I agree! I appreciated this too. It also made room for Arthie to have that arc instead — subtly, but authentically. I loved Yolanda’s unapologetic pride. It wasn’t what I expected and it was refreshing.
Heather: When a supporting character reveals their sexuality on the show, I’m always looking at the main character to see how they react because that’s how most audience members take their cue on how to react. Ruth acted weird about it, which bummed me out, but then she turned it around by learning the lesson that lesbians are fun and not trying to have sex with every single woman they see, which was… fine. I’m glad everyone else was chill about it.
Riese: See, I didn’t feel like Ruth was weird about it at all! Unless I missed something? I thought Ruth was just experiencing weird but primarily positive feelings because she’d assumed that Yolanda had got there through Sam’s bed, and was obviously wrong, and was dealing with that.
Heather: Oh, you know, that’s a good point. Maybe I was over-reading. I’ve actually read some critics saying they wish everyone — especially the management — had pushed back more against Yolanda to make it more realistic. One of the real life ladies of GLOW, Tiffany Melon, for example said she left the pro wrestling circuit because she was harassed for being a suspected lesbian. I’ve also read some critics saying they’d like the show to go into more detail about the AIDS crisis in the ’80s. I, frankly, do not want either of those things, especially the AIDS angle because I don’t trust GLOW to do it well or right. Their tiptoeing around it this season was enough for me.
Riese: I agree, I do not want either of those things. As for the AIDS crisis specifically — I don’t think any of these characters, especially Bash, are equipped to carry a story on this topic in a way that’d feel authentic or dialed in to reality. I think the attention paid to it was an adequate amount of attention for the situation (the death of Bashs’ butler) and I did not want more. It did feel they were planting seeds for a future exploration, however, which would make sense — the first diagnosed AIDS case was in 1981, so we’re relatively early into the crisis at this point, in 1985 —although 1985 was a huge year. 1985 is when amfAR was founded, when the first HIV antibody test was made available, when Reagan said the word “AIDS” for the first time and when Rock Hudson died of AIDS, considered a big turning point w/r/t “elevating the urgency of the epidemic.” Still it seems too early for any of these characters to be able to say anything intelligent about it, and I think it’d be hard for a layman viewer to know enough about attitudes surrounding the spread of HIV at that specific moment in time for them to evaluate whether any given characters’ feelings about HIV/AIDS were appropriate for the time and place, or whether they reflect moral or ethical shortcomings. So I don’t think it would add to character development at all.
Heather: Yes, I agree, and this is huge for me. One of the thing that drives me the most bonkers about period TV is when the attitudes of the current time period shoehorn themselves into the story, through characters or dialogue or even just the camera winking at us. It’s one of the things that made Netflix’s Anne of Green Gables rebeoot unwatchable! That kind of moral superiority from this side of the TV decades in the future destroys fictional worlds. But anyway: Yolanda!
Riese: I’d assumed they were going to do a Tiffany Mellon storyline with Yolanda, like that was part of why she was there. But I liked Yolanda so much and was like, please don’t do the Tiffany Mellon storyline with this precious angel!!! So I’m glad they didn’t — but also, Tiffany Mellon was not a lesbian! I don’t even know if she was bisexual or otherwise interested in women at all? She did girl-on-girl porn eventually, and worked in lesbian strip clubs, but only dated men as far as I know. I think she may have been straight and annoyed that they were so suspicious that she was a lesbian.
Anyhow, I feel like there’s a perception today that prior to ten years ago, literally everyone was homophobic, which’s partially ‘cause yeah sure! But also because the homophobia stories are the only ones that seem to get told. It’s true that lesbians faced (and still face) rejection and violence, and much moreso back then than they do now. But here and there, accepting environments and people did exist, and a lot of those enclaves were in LA! There were people who were out in their personal lives, if not publicly. It’s funny to read books by lesbians written post-1970s about lesbian life because every one of them is like WOW THINGS ARE SO MUCH BETTER NOW THAN THEY WERE!!! WE NEVER DREAMED WE’D BE AS ACCEPTED AS WE ARE TODAY! WE CAN TEACH IN SCHOOLS! G-D GAVE US XENA!!! And it’s like JUST YOU WAIT, LADIES, JUST YOU WAIT. Which is just to say that some people in the right place a the right time did feel like things were wildly better than they’d ever dreamed they could be. Parts of LA were like that, even if you couldn’t be out professionally yet at all. West Hollywood became its own city in 1984, boasting the first openly lesbian mayor and the first-ever city council with a gay majority. This show is set in 1985. This is a group mostly of self-declared outcasts. So I’m glad that they went ahead with people being okay and accepting, it wasn’t inaccurate and I also don’t need to see another rejection story.
So I think it’s realistic that many of her peers would actually be cool with it. However I’m not clear on who knows specifically. Sam and the girls know, but the network guy doesn’t, right? I guess the strip club owner knows, but we’ll have to wait ’til next year to see if there’s pushback on that once they get to Vegas. I imagine there will be.
The kiss with Arthie, however — was that not filmed? Like, what?!!? That was not a thing you could do on television!
Heather: Right, like, even if the culture of professional wrestling — inside professional wrestling was the most forward-thinking, accepting place on earth — the audience for professional wrestling is the same as the NASCAR audience, for the most part, by which I mean: rural Republicans. If that kiss showed up on TV, there would have been riots in the streets!
Oh, but Arthie. Arthie! I am such a fan of stories where the person who’s deeply uncomfortable with the openly gay character is: a) actually gay, and b) falling in love with the person they’re being mean to. Paige McCullers, just for one obsession/example. So I loved this little storyline. It feels so real to me, like that viral tweet by that girl who said she didn’t know how to handle her gay feelings for her friend in middle school so she put a note in her locker that said “Get out of my school!”
Riese: That’s adorable! Internalized homophobia is a bitch, you know?
Heather: I liked when they kissed, but I loved when they danced. I love seeing women dance together. Neither of them had enough screen-time, but that part made me swoon.
Riese: I loved it too, because it showed that Yolanda looks hot in unitards, and also in tuxedos. Also POC/POC relationships are so rare in television so as many screengrabs as we can get of these two, the better.
Heather: What do you wish season two had done better w/r/t Yolanda and Arthie?
Riese: GLOW is … too short. I wish they’d had more time. With an ensemble this big and diverse, the episodes really need to be twice as long, ‘cause there wasn’t much room for anybody to have a meaningful storyline aside from Ruth, Debbie and Sam. However, the one episode that took a genuine break from those three for another character, Mother of All Matches, was the season’s best by far, and I’d like to see more of that. I want GLOW to do more storylines that aren’t centered on Ruth, Debbie and Sam. For example: Yolanda and Arthie!
Heather: Mmm hmm, same. I actually don’t mind the shorter episodes, but I wish there were twice as many. That’d still be less eps than a standard network comedy. It’s doable! And then the writers and the camera could spread the love around. What do you hope happens for them in Season Three?
Riese: I imagine there’ll be some conflict around them being an actual gay couple, once they get to Vegas. So I hope that when this happens, it doesn’t employ any of the tropes I hate. Like, please don’t have Arthie’s inevitably homophobic parents come try to extract her from GLOW because she caught the gay, or have Arthie get scared of being gay and dump Yolanda for a boyfriend she can barely tolerate. That’s where I’m at now: you don’t even need to do something I like, just don’t do anything I hate, okay? What do you want for them?
Heather: I would honestly really just love to see them in love and navigating this wild wrestling world, and the city of Las Vegas, as a queer couple in 1985. I’ve been watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and I was sort of aware of it when I was watching in real time, but I didn’t fully get it until I was marathoning it that the show did an exemplary job putting Jake and Amy together and keeping them together. Their will they/won’t they arcs were fun, but also they’ve gotten more fun as characters as a couple, and their coupledom itself is its own character. Their togetherness opened up so many more storytelling opportunities. So it can be done! In a comedy! It can be done to have a happy couple in a comedy who have trials and tribulations and grow by themselves and with each other and also are exciting to watch!
Season two of of GLOW features an honest-to-goodness lesbian character, which Riese and Heather will be writing about this week. In the meantime, please enjoy a little bit of that and the rest of the show’s heterosexuality. Feel free to refresh with some season one heterosexual highlights!
Probably spoilers ahead!
Welcome to your weekly Pop Culture Fix, a collection of stories that are not, unfortunately, about my dog Carol, but rather about lesbian, bisexual and queer related popular culture. This post was supposed to go up five hours ago but then our server crashed!
… Samira Wiley was on Ellen for the first time and told Ellen that she’s the “Lord of the Lesbians” and it was really cute! They also played HOT HANDS.
… DISOBEDIENCE is one of No Film School’s Most Anticipated Films of Tribeca 2018, and oh good news — they’ve released a new clip! We gave away a bunch of tickets to their Los Angeles premiere last week, jsyk.
… Evan Rachel Wood Says Dolores Will Explore Sexuality in Westworld: “Dolores isn’t really either a man or a woman, so she’s probably not defined by anything. All I can say is yes, there’s going to be something. I wasn’t disappointed. I was like, ‘Yay,’ but that’s all I can say.”
… G.L.O.W.’s second season will premiere June 29th, and look out for their new lesbian character, Yolanda, played by Shakira Barrera. You can see her in the teaser standing up in one of the bathroom stalls and again at the end.
… The first official trailer for The Misandrists, which I’ve been excited about for a significant amount of time:
… Lesbian Jesus Hayley Kiyoko talks to W Magazine before her performance on Sunday afternoon about attending the festival as a teenager: “I also remember all the girls being so beautiful. I remember being insecure and overwhelmed, because I would want to talk to them or maybe find a girlfriend at Coachella, and all the girls were hot, but I just never had the courage to talk to anyone.”
… Janet Mock talks to The Guardian about POSE:
Our show is centring on trans women of colour in a way they’ve not been centred on ever. What’s so radical to me is that, unlike Transparent, where there is one main character who is trans and played by a man, we have five main characters who are trans played by trans women. That five black and brown trans women will be the centre of a show on a network drama in primetime is huge. And they’re going to be on billboards. It’s amazing this is going to exist in the world.”
… Bachelor in Paradise teased a lesbian kiss between a bisexual contestant and a mystery woman in their previews… and the woman turned out to be A MAN WITH LONG HAIR. This must win some kind of Queerbaiting Trophy?
… Hayley Kiyoko Rants and Raves About Coachella, ‘The Bachelor,’ Equal Pay & More
… Did Supernatural Just Undo Its Most Infamous Fridging?
… Cheers to American Idol’s Most LGBT-Inclusive Season Yet — But Will It Last?
… It’s true, I confess I have enjoyed them both: Two of this year’s most enjoyable TV shows are about gay serial killers
… “Grove Girls” Documentary Chronicles Fire Island’s Lesbian Community
… Starz has acquired our favorite show ‘Take My Wife’ and “The Pistol Shrimps,” a documentary about a women’s recreational basketball league in L.A. that features bisexual Aubrey Plaza and a bunch of other lesbian and bisexual women because duh it’s women’s basketball in L.A. I should remind you that VIDA premieres on Starz on May 6th and this network is really putting in the work, y’all!.
… Mey saw Blockers and loved it, which was a big surprise to us all — turns out it’s hella feminist, queer and sex-positive. So, here’s Slate’s Outward on why Blockers’ unadvertised gay storyline could have a big impact.
… Coronation Street star feared ‘backlash’ to lesbian love affair
… Ellie Desautels: Meet the Non-Binary Actor on NBC’s Rise
… Former Miss America Marries Girlfriend, Pageant Sends Best Wishes
Spoilers below for the first season of GLOW.
Ah, the 1980s, when clothes and hair and music were hella dope but women were given the same courtesy as plants in Hollywood. Then along came women’s wrestling to shake television and gender roles way the fuck up.
I had really high hopes for GLOW. And I did love it. The women are physically and mentally strong as hell and come in all shapes and sizes. The men cry. The opening theme song is Patty Smyth’s “The Warrior,” a delicious love power-anthem that is somehow way too appropriate for a neon animated wrestling montage. That said, when you consider that GLOW was created and helmed by none other than Jenji Kohan of Weeds and OITNB fame, you’d think that the introduction of a complex and openly queer character is a no-brainer, but no such luck here.
The show first centers around fresh-faced, doe-eyed, unlikely terrible person Ruth Wilder (Alison Brie playing a role that had to have been offered to Rachel Bloom too). Ruth is a starving actor and hardcore theater nerd. The show later evolves into an ensemble that manages to paint the one ambiguously lesbian character in broad strokes of the weak link, at best; and the background player, at worst.
Ruth is broke and has a hard time getting booked for anything because she’s not new and fresh enough. Oh and also because she purposely reads the wrong sides in auditions in hopes that the casting director will see that she can perform the shit out of meaty roles just as well as any man. And she can, but they’re just not having it.
Ruth falls into wrestling by way of an audition pitched to her as an “experimental” project in (gasp) THE VALLEY. If you don’t live in LA, The Valley is gross and hot and they shoot a whole lot of porn there. She’s glad to keep most of her clothes on for this gig and toils to prove herself.
Ruth treats wrestling like a “real” acting job even though she isn’t initially convinced that GLOW (Gorgeous Ladies Of Wrestling) involves any real acting. She even goes as far as researching her character Zoya The Destroya by tagging along to a Russian-Jewish bris with the manager of their dorm/motel, The Dusty Spur. He has a girlfriend no one’s ever seen and looks at the punkhunky pizza guy like this:
Standup comedian Marc Maron is perfect as the abrasive, coked up, philandering director of the show. He fancies himself an auteur and when he isn’t denigrating Ruth he’s ignoring her. But she eventually grows on him and he reveals an empathetic and dependable side during a traumatic life event for Ruth.
Ruth’s BFF Debbie (Betty Gilpin) lives in Pasadena and is a tall, blonde soap actress who was written off her show after getting pregnant. Debbie also joins the team accidentally. When she finds out Ruth has been having a short-lived affair with her husband, Mark, she shows up at the gym and kick’s Ruth’s ass with flair and panache, leading Sam to track her down and beg her to join with the alluring promise of artistic freedom.
The rest of the assembled team:
Arthie (Mad Bomber Of Beiruit) is an Indian-American pre-med student who is very protective of the team and quick to offer a diagnosis or advice. In one scene she tries to give everyone pads to save them from Toxic Shock Syndrome, and the ensuing period talk is frank and funny instead of shameful/gross/embarrassing, which is very refreshing.
Cherry (Junk Chain) is an ex-stuntwoman and the no-nonsense pack leader who is consistently killing it with the rompers. She’s also about her business and keeping old fling Sam in line while managing a very healthy and communicative relationship with her stuntman husband Keith. Cherry gets offered a role in a new buddy cop show and has to quickly decide whether it’s worth abandoning the team she helped build.
Carmen (Machu Picchu) is a lovable gentle giant. She’s also wrestling royalty and has massive stage fright that she only overcomes after gaining her father’s acceptance of and respect for women wrestlers.
Dawn and Stacy (The Beatdown Biddies) are a pair of hairdressers from The Beverly Center whose characters are two cranky old Jewish women. They’re queens of slapstick and love to get high and crank call the other women.
Jenny (Fortune Cookie) is a wry Cambodian-American social butterfly who plays a very generic Chinese martial artist and Communist in the ring. She’s also in charge of costumes for the crew and spearheads a birthday party for the reluctant Sheila to help her feel included and accepted.
Justine (Scab) is a shy, 19-year-old punk and film geek who seems to have a crush on Sam but is actually his daughter from a one night stand. She falls for a pizza guy/poor man’s Billy Idol named Billy Offal. By the way, Offal is the intestines and other weird cuts of an animal like the tail and liver that you can get from a butcher shop.
Melanie Rosen (Melrose) is a Jewish-American Princess with a short fuse and a wallet full of daddy’s cash. Her special skill is that she’s not boring, “I can wake up in the morning with nothing to do, and just BE in a Van Halen video by the end of the day.”
Reggie Walsh (Vicky The Viking) is a literal Olympic athlete who rarely appears onscreen and her first line is “I throw things.” Her name is fucking Reggie. Not Regina. Not Gina. She’s the strong silent type with a crushing handshake and is it too much to ask to make her a lesbian instead of an ambiguously gay lady with the personality of a dry mop? Season two maybe? The women of GLOW seem like a really close knit family, but Reggie is mostly silent and on the outskirts.
Rhonda (Brittanica) is hot, homeless and English without a self conscious bone in her body (aside from Sam’s…I’m sorry it was a joke I couldn’t pass up). She falls for Sam but their relationship is a bust because he’s too jaded to realize that she wants him for more than just professional gain. Rhonda’s nerd props all come from Sam’s dresser drawers. She also makes up a very corny theme song for the group. When an amused Sam asks if she’s rapping, she replies with, “I’m speak singing like Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady”.
Sebastian “Bash” is 25, the group’s financier and considers himself a patron of the arts. He’s a surprisingly likable rich douchebag who refuses to grow up until his mom freezes his trust fund. His vision of the team as colorful stereotypes wins over Sam’s dystopian future theme (also featuring lesbian mutants): “When I said I wanted something different I mean how like Ms. Pac Man is different from Pac Man.”
Sheila (The She-Wolf) is unintentionally in character 24/7 and has the best headshot on earth. She knows that people think she’s crazy but she doesn’t actually believe that she’s a wolf; she just feels most comfortable expressing herself as one.
Tammé (Welfare Queen) has concerns about her character because of how patently offensive it is. Her son goes to Stanford and she doesn’t want to embarrass him with her first real acting role. We never meet Tammé’s son, but the second season would be a great opportunity to explore the dynamics of their relationship in the face of this performance. The players all know that this is meant to be social satire, but will viewers and audience members who want to believe those stereotypes see it that way?
Debbie doesn’t take wrestling seriously until Carmen convinces her to check out a live match. In that moment she has an epiphany and realizes that wrestling is very literally just a soap opera on steroids. This leads to her eventually agreeing to be the face to Ruth’s annoying but earnest heel as they train under the tutelage of Carmen’s brothers and are forced to trust each other professionally, if not personally.
When the coffers run dry and their venue for the big match falls through at the last minute, Bash has them crash his mother’s fundraiser as speakers from Wrestlers Against Drugs (a totally made up organization). At the fundraiser, Justine comes clean with Sam and Debbie confesses that she loves wrestling more than marriage because it’s the only place where she feels true bodily autonomy.
When it comes to the grand finale, everyone shines, including Reggie (for the first time all season). The producers’ erstwhile careless handling of harmful stereotypes also wrecks havoc when racist (“economically anxious”) audience members hurl insults and full beer cans at an already apprehensive Arthie when she emerges in character as The Mad Bomber.
Of course this same crowd eats up Debbie’s All-American “Jesus and Apple Pie and Make America Great Again” persona. All-American means white American, as evidenced by the crowd’s vitriolic response to Welfare Queen snatching Liberty Belle’s crown with a nod to the disenfranchised in a sleight-of-hand twist orchestrated by Sam. It’s worth asking yourself who you root for in this final scene that posits blackness as the villain to America’s hero.
All things considered, the show is fun and engaging enough to make me want to give pro wrestling a chance, which I’ve never wanted to do in my entire life. It’s also fantastic about featuring a variation of ages and body types and cultural/ethnic backgrounds with zero shame attached. GLOW does so many things right, but if the show is aiming for true diversity and female empowerment, rendering queer women as either mythical mutants, ambiguous, or invisible is definitely not that way to accomplish that goal.