In My Top 10 Television Characters, various members of Autostraddle’s TV Team will be telling you about the TV characters nearest and dearest to our hearts, EVEN the ones that aren’t lesbian/bisexual/queer. Today, TV Team’s Valerie Anne reluctantly picks between her favorite children even though it was emotional torment for her.
I’m starting to think I’ve done something wrong to be punished with being forced to choose “Top 10” anything. And yet time and time again here I am, forced to narrow my life’s passion down to a mere TEN choices. It’s impossible! Impossible. I put it off as long as humanly possible but here I am with a list. I’m positive I missed very important characters, since I’ve watched and loved hundreds of TV shows in my life, but these are ten that I wish to speak about upon this day.
YES I’M CHEATING RIGHT OUT OF THE GATE DON’T @ ME. But here’s the thing! Over the course of her career, despite her IMDb list not being particularly long, she has played such a wide range of characters — and specifically, my favorite kind of characters — that I couldn’t possibly fit just one. In fact, I think you’ll come to see a theme in this post of two archetypes specifically (“hard shell/gooey center” and “like me”), and she has performed both of them perfectly on many occasions. And so, so many of them queer. My top three K’tay McGrawww characters are Lucy Westenra from Dracula and her soft longing and dedication to/unrequited love for her best friend; Saskia from Secret Bridesmaids Business with her brash tongue and hard outer shell with a soft gooey center and her dedication to/unrequited love for her best friend; and Lena Luthor on Supergirl with her boss bitch attitude, genius brain, fierce outfits, and dedication to/unrequited love for her best friend.
Over the course of her eight years in the Arrowverse, Sara Lance has made one of the most impressive journeys of any character, let alone one who started as a presumed dead socialite on a vigilante show about a grumpy man. She was a closed-off assassin, a vigilante, a dark soul with a dark outlook. Then she was a vigilante learning how to be a better friend and sister. Then she was a smart-mouthed time traveler who shot from the hip and played the field. All the fields. And now she’s a compassionate leader, a Paragon of Destiny, a loyal friend, and a loving girlfriend. She stayed hard in the places that help her be strong for the people who rely on her (and also her arms), but is no longer afraid to show her soft side either, because she knows there’s strength in that too. Plus she’s died like a hundred times and it never sticks, because Sara Lance is a bisexual badass who will defy anything she has to, whether it’s literally the Death Totem or figuratively the Bury Your Gays trope.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Elena Alvarez is the teenager I never got to be. She’s the teenager inside of me now. Our lives look pretty different on paper, but we have some fundamental things in common. We both love learning and get very passionate about the topics we care about. We’re both huge nerds who love sci-fi and video games. We both put too much pressure on ourselves to be Good — good at things, and good people. We both have little brothers who annoy us to no end but who we’d do a murder for. We’re both gay! Though that’s not a thing I was ready to confront about myself in high school, so I ended up keeping a lot of those other things about me tamped down, too. Not open the Pandora’s Box of my personality. So Elena is equal parts healing my teenage self retroactively, and also bringing me so much joy for the teenagers who will be able to point to Elena being adorable and gay on their TVs and say, “Me gay, too.”
Emily Fields came to me on the heels of my own coming out journey and she felt like a gift. “Oh you came out to your parents? Here’s an adorable lesbian for you to bond with people on the internet about. Emily herself was that kind-but-tougher-than-she looks type I’m drawn to — and also had that dedication to/unrequited love for her best friend I love so much. Pretty Little Liars changed my life in ways you wouldn’t think a chaotic teen drama that blurred the lines of reality could. But even ten years later, I still remember feeling that flutter of my heart when Emily and Maya got into the photo booth together. And I still make the jokes we all made in our #BooRadleyVanCullen days.
It almost feels silly to have a favorite clone, since they’re all so brilliantly portrayed by Tatiana Maslany, but Cosima was it for me. She technically falls into the “like me” category of my favorite types of characters, though we’re not exactly the same. She’s sarcastic and very go-with-the-flow most of the time, but like a dog with a bone once she’s fixated on something. Prone to kindness but defensive about the people and things that she loves. She’s quicker to forgive than to forget, and her mind is wide open. All very relatable. But she’s also confident and flirty and unafraid in ways I aspire to.
I wrote a whole essay about Theo Crain because while on the surface it makes sense she’s on this list because she fits that tough on the outside, gooey on the inside archetype, it goes deeper than that. I’ve never seen being an empath portrayed so accurately, even though it was heightened to a metaphor. She puts up walls, not to keep people out so much as to protect herself, and gives more of herself than she’d ever let on.
Hi there I’m cheating again HOW’MEVER hear me out: Kara and Alex Danvers both have characteristics that are fundamental to who I am, and also characteristics that are so different from me I find them compelling to watch. Alex has that big sister energy and is loyal almost to a fault. She’s smart and gay and hard on herself. Those are all things I relate to. But she’s also a natural and skilled leader, occasionally quick-tempered, and can take things too seriously sometimes. Those things I find fascinating in someone who has so many qualities I relate to, since I don’t relate to those. Kara Danvers also has traits I see in myself: a relentless optimism and penchant for hope that can be exhausting to maintain, something I’ve never seen on TV before quite like this. She goes all in when she loves something or someone, and she will always put others before herself, occasionally resulting in her taking too much on alone. But she also has things I can’t fathom, like her confidence in herself and her abilities. Together they make a duo I love watching, especially because they embody one of my favorite principles: Blood doesn’t make a family, love makes a family.
Santana Lopez was such a unique character. She falls squarely in the role of “hard shell, gooey center” but she took it to a new level. She was “mean” but she wasn’t a villain, not really. Coming out didn’t make her less snarky, didn’t magically “fix” her quick wit and take-no-shit attitude. It was a little “I was mean because I was closeted” — maybe she lashed out at times she wouldn’t have otherwise. But once she came out she could still tear someone down with her vicious, vicious words when she needed to, then go sing a soft ballad to her girlfriend in the choir room. Naya Rivera played Santana with such a confident energy, head held high and saying every word without hesitation or a second thought. Even though I am so, so different from Santana, and sometimes can’t even make a sassy joke to a close friend without immediately apologizing, I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And you know how she was so kind to Sweet Marley Rose, especially when she found out Kitty was bullying her? I think that’s at the root of what I want here. I want to be the Sweet Marley Rose to someone’s Santana. I love to be the one person the tough-as-nails girl is soft around. Plus, Naya’s singing skills were next-level. And I hope someday I can listen to those songs again without my heart breaking.
I’m not really doing the math here but I feel like I’m leaning more toward the “hard shell, goey center” type and it all started with Faith. Maybe there aren’t as many “more like me” characters out there, but even on Buffy alone, there was Willow. So at a formative age, I was presented both paths, and when I got to this second slot and knew I had to choose between them, it didn’t take long to decide. Maybe it’s because there’s more baggage when it comes to watching characters that are more like me, maybe it’s because I’m extremely gay and all I want is to be a Slytherin’s Hufflepuff. But I’ve loved Faith since the moment she appeared before my 11-year-old eyes. In fact, when I came out to my dad, he was like, “Yeah I know” and when I asked how he knew, he used Faith as evidence. There have been many Faith-like characters I’ve been drawn to over the years — Jessica Jones, Ashley from South of Nowhere, Sarah Manning from Orphan Black, Dutch from Killjoys — and it all comes back to the Slayer the Council Forgot. Also I will probably always hold a little grain of resentment for the Scooby Gang for how they treated her; all it would have taken was a little bit of sympathy and a lot less judgement and Faith could have been redeemed a lot sooner.
Picking a #1 is hard because a) I hate absolutes b) how can I choose between a character I’ve loved for 22 years and a character whose journey is still unfolding, but when it came down to it, it had to be Waverly. Granted, Wynonna herself has a lot of the Faith aspects I love and is definitely up there in one of my favorite characters of all time, but I already chose the Danvers’ sisters as a duo and don’t want to get fired for my inability to follow simple listicle rules. But Waverly is perfectly imperfect and I love her. She was a good, smart kid who felt left out, left behind, like she didn’t belong. She did everything she could to prove herself, until finally she found a thing she was good at and a group who appreciated her for it. She’s constantly trying to figure out who she is and where she fits, all while being kind and dedicated and passionate. If you ever want to know what it’s like to be a relentless optimist with a lifetime of underlying depression, watch the episode of Wynonna Earp called “Jolene.”
Honorable mentions: Peyton Sawyer (One Tree Hill), Eleanor Guthrie (Black Sails), Fiona Gallagher (Shameless), Fleabag (Fleabag), Jenna Faith Hope (Impulse), Gail Peck (Rookie Blue), Nia Nal (Supergirl), Arizona Robbins (Grey’s Anatomy), Sweet Marley Rose (Glee), Adora and Catra (She-Ra), all of the girls on Elite, every woman in the TVD universe
Where to stream gay TV:
89 Queer TV Shows to Stream on Netflix
32 Lesbian, Queer & Bisexual (LGBTQ+) TV Shows Streaming Free on Amazon Prime
62 TV Shows On Hulu with LGBTQ+ Characters
In My Top 10 Television Characters, various members of Autostraddle’s TV Team will be telling you about the TV characters nearest and dearest to our hearts, EVEN the ones that aren’t lesbian/ bisexual / or queer. Today, TV Team’s Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya shares hers.
I always like to start these lists with a disclaimer that basically on any given day it could look a little different. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, THAT IS ESPECIALLY TRUE FOR THIS LIST. I’m a person, and characters are “people,” and the annoying thing about people is that they contain contradictions, layers, etc. I get different things from different characters at different points of my life. Some of the characters who have been nearest and dearest to my heart for the longest didn’t even make this list! Because to force myself to stick to just 10, I really had to pick some sort of thematic throughline. I could have gone with the characters who I most identify with, in which case there would be a lot of horny weirdos like Elena Alvarez from One Day At A Time or Maya Ishii-Peters from Pen15 or Paris Geller from Gilmore Girls on this list. Instead, I went with a different theme which is, roughly, Mean Moms/Women Who Could Beat Me Up. So with that in mind, let’s delve into the inner workings of my mommy issues-riddled psyche!
Like Natalie, I appreciate a complex and satisfying character arc, and Cordelia Chase has one of my favorites, especially by the time Angel comes around. We see Cordelia go from the popular mean girl (hot!) on Buffy to a big-hearted hero on Angel. And when you look at the full breadth of her arc, all the pieces click into place perfectly. Cordelia doesn’t change overnight; rather, she evolves. And that evolution is extremely compelling. Also, she could absolutely shoot me with a crossbow.
Okay, I could pick pretty much any of the women on Mad Men for this list, and a few of my colleagues already picked Peggy Olson who is indeed a brilliant character. But like I said, this list is an homage to mean moms and women who can kick my ass and Betty is pretty much the platonic ideal of the former. Although to merely call her a mean mom strips the character of her inherent complexity and subversiveness. She’s the prototypical 1960s white housewife, and she’s also a Fuck You to it. She doesn’t really like her kids. She is frustratingly aroused by her husband and also resentful of him. Her wants are paradoxical. And that is RELATABLE. As an aside: Have you read this essay? You should read this essay.
I co-sign everything Drew wrote about Bette and The L Word in her Top 10 character list. I’ve included a lot of endlessly frustrating characters on this list. Many who make the same mistakes over and over and over. Many who are seen as villains by some. Many who have spurts of self-betterment but also spurts of regression. All of whom have made me feel such a wide range of emotions that it would be impossible to shove them into any one box. Bette Porter angers and delights me in equal measure. I will say that I’m not totally on board with the way she’s characterized in Generation Q, but in the new series, some of her old habits resurface in a way I find believable.
I love doppelganger/evil twin/etc. characters from television, and it took me a while to decide which flavor of twinned identities I’d choose for this slot. I could have gone with one of the Orphan Black clones (Alison is my favorite, for the record, although you probably could have guessed that from the title of this list) or with Katherine Petrova from The Vampire Diaries. (Yes, I keep cheating by giving shoutouts to other characters on this list!) But ultimately, I’ve decided to go with Philippa Georgiou, who in the prime universe of Star Trek: Discovery is a great leader and mentor figure to protagonist Michael Burnham and who in the mirror universe is a despotic, violent emperor and adoptive mother to the mirror universe version of Burnham. Let’s just say this one ticks a few boxes for me: doppelganger drama, mommy issues, and Michelle Yeoh throwing punches.
Only locals are still doing the “show villain vs. actual villain” meme on Twitter anymore, but anyone who calls Skyler White a villain of any kind is a COP in my book. The specific dudebro brand of Breaking Bad fans who hated Skyler White actually reiterate part of why I like this character: She represents something men fear. Walt strips her of her autonomy and makes decisions that put her directly in harm’s way, and she dares to push back, to reclaim her agency in a way that makes Walt feel controlled and belittled. Skyler is no doubt another one of those frustrating characters on this list. Her behaviors are often hypocritical. She’s selfish. She’s judgemental. But those are the kinds of flaws I’m drawn to in storytelling. There are indeed cogent critiques of the character that exist outside the scope of fans’ misogyny, but conversations about a character’s likability usually bore me frankly. I’m drawn to characters who I’m not even rooting for all the time.
Okay, okay, we are indeed getting into villain territory now. Yes, I resist labels like that, but there’s no denying the overwhelming ugliness of this ruthless manipulator. In addition to doppelgangers, another very specific TV dynamic I love dearly is a fucked-up relationship between a mentor and mentee (the mommy issues CANNOT BE CONTAINED). Think: Rachel and Quinn on Unreal and Octavia and Indra on The 100. And Patty Hewes and Ellen Parsons on Damages are the extreme version of this particular dynamic. It’s never fully clear if they want to destroy or fuck or become one another. They are perfect adversaries and conspirators, bringing out the utmost worst in one another but also shaping each other. They transcend relationship categories.
If I’m being honest, Victoria is the least dimensional character on this list, but I love a good soapy character. She manipulates, she murders, she mothers without a hint of warmth. And Victoria is far from flat. Her backstory and complicated relationships with various people in her life all contribute to her intimacy issues and ruthlessness. She’s another ideal “villain”—one who’s smart and diabolical but still human.
Honestly, half a dozen characters from Jane The Virgin are some of my favorite TV characters of all time which is why, again, I really had to limit myself to at least a nebulous theme without risking a complete meltdown. My top three of this list are all queer as fuck, and that feels right. I watched Jane The Virgin zealously until its end, and Luisa immediately stood out to me as an example of a messy queer character (see also: Leila on The Bisexual) who invokes a whole mess of feelings in me. The show doesn’t always handle Luisa’s relationships and mental health well, but the telenovela conceit of her ongoing toxic relationship with Rose and also some of the more grounded parts of her arc like her struggle with sobriety were captivating parts of this very sprawling series for me. Luisa doesn’t technically fall under the Mean Moms/Women Who Could Beat Me Up umbrella (although I do think she could hire Rose to kill me), but I really do love a character who can harness both drama and comedy at the same time, and my top three here perfectly fit that billing, too.
Santana Lopez meant so much to me before I even had the words to articulate how much she meant to me. “Coming out” storylines are far from one-size-fits-all, and they only skim the surface of queer lived experience, but Santana’s was one that shot me through me like lightning. Sorry for this sentence I’m about to write: I identified as a Gleek way before I identified as a lesbian. And my understanding of myself is intricately tied up in this show and many of the others I watched before my twenties when I first started putting together some of the pieces of the puzzle that is my Self. While Santana Lopez isn’t necessarily the starting point of that, my memories of watching her navigate sexuality, desire, and creative expression on that show are absolutely formative for me.
Archie Panjabi as Kalinda Sharma on the CBS drama THE GOOD WIFE on the CBS Television Network. Photo: Justin Stephens/CBS �¨�© 2011 CBS Broadcasting Inc, All Rights Reserved.
I have been writing about Kalinda Sharma for over six years, and I doubt I’ll ever stop. She was the first queer South Asian character on television who I was ever exposed to, and she holds a very special place in my heart to say the least. It’s not even that I necessarily identify with the character: She’s way more confident and aggressive than I’ve ever been. But there are limits to framing representation within the context of relatability. Not all people of the same identities are truly the same—to state the obvious. The differences between myself and Kalinda draw me to her. There’s a wish fulfillment/fantasy element to my obsession with her. I like to imagine myself that bold, that in-control. Actually now that I think about it, all the women on this list have something that I want.
Honorable mommis mentions: Eve Polastri (Killing Eve), Cheryl Blossom (Riverdale), Theo Crain (The Haunting Of Hill House), Dana Scully (The X-Files), Annalise Keating (How To Get Away With Murder), Mellie Grant (Scandal), Celia Hodes (Weeds), Gabrielle Solis (Desperate Housewives), Laura Roslin (Battlestar Galactica), Petra Solano (Jane The Virgin), Adora Crellin (Sharp Objects), Callie Torres (Grey’s Anatomy), Piper Halliwell (Charmed), Sydney Bristow (Alias)
Where to stream gay TV:
89 Queer TV Shows to Stream on Netflix
32 Lesbian, Queer & Bisexual (LGBTQ+) TV Shows Streaming Free on Amazon Prime
62 TV Shows On Hulu with LGBTQ+ Characters
In My Top 10 Television Characters, various members of Autostraddle’s TV Team will be telling you about the TV characters nearest and dearest to our hearts, EVEN the ones that aren’t lesbian/ bisexual / or queer. Today, Autostraddle’s Deputy Editor Carmen, shares her Top 10.
Much like when I ranked my Top 10 Television Shows for you, I once again struggled because I couldn’t decide on a fair metric. A lot of my favorite shows and favorite characters overlap (that’s probably not surprising), but still I wanted each list to be able to stand on its own. I toyed with the idea of making a list of my Top 10 Favorite Bossy Femmes, because once you look at my love for Bette Porter, Santana Lopez, Lafayette Reynolds from True Blood… well, it’s not hard to see the archetype trend in play.
What felt most true is that the best way I could measure how much I loved a character was to pick the ones that I kept on loving, even long after their shows stopped doing the same. The characters I felt a need to “show up for” and commit. The ones who kept going, who made a home week-after-week, with little care or recognition, even when they deserved so much more. And that leads us to this list. A vague and cobbled together matrix of: how much I loved these women; how badly they were sidelined by their show; and despite all that, the ways their story touched or impacted my own, carrying them with me in my pocket as I figure out my own way through life.
Is it a coincidence that this list of “women who deserved better” is comprised of women of color — and almost exclusively queer women of color? Given the intertwined histories of sexism, racism, and homophobia in this country, I think not.
Ok so Anissa and Grace have just barely scraped their way onto this list based fully on their potential.They’ve had more obstacles thrown at them, self-sabatoged by their own writers’ room, than most — inconsistent screen time for Grace, and innumerable, illogical off-screen relationship developments for them both. Every time the actors seem to finally get their way off the ground, the writers’ saddle them even more baggage that no one asked for. Still, despite all of that, Chantal Thuy and Nafessa Williams have found such chemistry and joy together that Thunder Grace remains my favorite supercharged possibility.
There are these unexpected moments, maybe about once or twice a season, where Grace knows Anissa’s french fry order, or Anissa spits some corny lovesick lines in bed, when it is just… right. Somehow Chantal Thuy and Nafessa Williams have found a way to make their relationship feel as lived in and loved as any of Black Lightning’s heterosexual couples, despite getting less than a quarter of the screen time (and that’s being generous). They have IT. Whatever “it” is. Last weekend, a friend and I were texting our superhero movie rankings, as one does, and she said: “My actual blockbuster dream is for superhero teenage girlfriends who talk to each other about their emotions.” They aren’t teenagers, but I think that’s why I haven’t been able to shake Anissa and Grace from my mind lately. They really could be the dream.
I’m not going to waste my precious little time explaining once again why Kat Edison deserves so much more from The Bold Type. Natalie has already done so, impeccably, multiple times this summer. Instead I want to talk about what I’ve loved.
In between the down swings, Kat Edison has been effervescent. She’s filled with boundless energy and a willingness for self-exploration and improvement. She doesn’t shy away from tough conversations. She’s brave, always leading with her heart first, even when its at her detriment. She loves her community and more importantly, she fights for them. She’s a loyal friend. Kat reminds me to be my best. To never stop growing. What’s more, she’s provided the same lessons to the actress portraying her. Earlier this summer, Aisha Dee risked her career when she publicly spoke up against frankly the anti-Black treatment she has received behind-the-scenes of The Bold Type. She simply said, it was Kat would do. May we all do the same.
In its first season, Queen Sugar set itself away from the pack when they wrote Rutina Wesley as a pansexual, Black, marijuana growing, social justice oriented, activist and writer. In doing so, they created one of the most intimately familiar portrayals of a queer Black woman that I’ve seen.
Nova Bordelon is the first time on television where I have seen a queer black women character that feels like the queer black women that I know and love in my life. She’s committed to community, not only through her activism — but in her spiritual work and everyday life. She performs healing sessions for her family and neighbors. When a hurricane hits the area, Nova won’t join her family in safety until she and her girlfriend Chantal make sure all the elderly in their neighborhood have food and boarded windows. She sells the marijuana she grows to the young men around her — and includes flyers for the next Black Lives Matter protest with each purchase, reminding them, “You would want someone to march for you”… She’s brave, she’s infinitely proud of her blackness, and she loves from her soul.
I know Nova, from her locks to her back tattoo and flowing dresses, to her hand crafted, larger than life earrings. Unlike some others on this list — with the notable exceptions of Annalise Keating and Olivia Pope, both ranked higher — Nova never hurt for screen time. She’s struggled with writers who never understood what made her so special to begin with, and then not letting her fly.
I fell in love with Tasha first.
When I was, for the first real time, grappling with my queerness. When I was trying to figure out… well… what turned me on. Spiraling out late at night, watching The L Word clips on YouTube with my headphones clasped tight around my ears and my laptop tipped at a 45 degree angle so no one else could see (a lot of you were there, you know what I mean). It was Tasha. Her gravely voice, her husky laugh, those high cheekbones. The way she smiled from beneath her lashes and the strength of her back, always at attention. Her motorcycle and that low bun and the neat severity of her hair part.That time when she blushed and told Alice that she was attracted to “girly girls.” I was a goner.
If you can stretch your mind back, past where we are now, past a time where there are so many Black queer women on television in a single year that we need a spreadsheet to keep track of them, past when Lena Waithe’s Twenties just gave us our first Black butch lead of a series in history, past the repeal of DOMA and Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, keep going back further — that’s where you will still find her, alone in a landscape that was pretty much on her own. Just Tasha and, to some extent, Kima from The Wire. Ok. Now imagine being 20, and Black, and first understanding you were gay, and looking for something anything that would tell you what that would mean. Then, and only then, you can begin to understand Tasha Williams.
Still, The L Word squandered her. There’s another version of Tasha where we learn about her internal conflicts over the Iraq War. Where she makes a decisions to leave the service, not in some cheap take on An Officer and a Gentleman where she gathers Alice up in her arms and kisses her breathless on a military base — but because she has a moral reckoning that makes her look at herself cold and hard in the mirror and ask the tough questions. There’s another version of Tasha where we get to meet her Black friends from Long Beach for more than the occasional bike ride and poker night. Where she goes home for Sunday dinners with Big Mama. A story where she is, finally, her own person.
Sadly, we never got to see it.
In the end, Pretty Little Liars became a show that we often try to forget. In its last years, it doubled down on transphobic storytelling decisions and storylines that excused the sexual grooming of teenagers by their grown ass men teachers. They buried quite a few gays, and in particular Black queer women at that. A plot that began as fantastical and full of heart-throbbing twists eventually became dizzying and nauseating, like riding a roller coaster one too many times. (Which, to be fair, it probably was.)
At the same time, when you pick through what’s been left in the wake of its wreckage, some things still shine like gems (or more adequately, shine like the glass in Emily Fields’ hair). Mona Vanderwaal was a teenage girl like few we’ve seen. A bullied nerd who turned the things that made her weakest into her strengths. A diva who masked insecurities with an impenetrable steel trap brain and hyperadrenalized reality — if you know, then you know — that bended the world to her very will. She sneered, she scoffed, she didn’t suffer fools gladly. But really, why should she? If she thought she was better than everyone else, that was only because she was so very clearly better than everyone else. And she would have been more than willing to save them, if only the other Liars would have ever listened to her.
Annalise Keating is the stuff of legends. When describing talented actors, “unrivaled” is a word we probably use too often — but when the only name people even think to compare to yours is Meryl Streep, you know you’re a bad bitch. And Viola Davis is baaaad bitch (said respectfully, of course).
Annalise Keating is the first — and thus far, the only — queer Black woman character to lead her own network drama. In the role, Viola Davis made history, becoming the first — and thus far, the only — Black woman to win an Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama. She was complicated and introspective and sometimes, destructive, but in the most delicious ways that you thought about and re-twisted in your mind long after the show closed for the night. Like I said, a legend.
At times How to Get Away with Murder fell victim to its own convoluted plots, hampering Davis’ performance (and likely, any future Emmys for the role).Annalise was also saddled with a cohort of students who never appreciated her, who often resorted to gaslighting her that she was the source of all of their problems. Even though all she ever did was put her career on the line to solve them.
While watching Annalise Keating grapple with, and eventual overcome, her internalized homophobia was a storyline taken with exquisite care that I delighted in — I would have loved to see Annalise find her way to peace a little bit sooner. If only so we could have reveled in it along with her.
Much like Annalise Keating, Olivia Pope was the star of her own show. And like Viola Davis, in this role, Kerry Washington at last shattered a glass celling for Black actresses in Hollywood — this time, by becoming the first Black woman to lead a network drama in over three decades. What made that feat magic was that after Kerry did it, she was far from the only one. She brought so many with her to the table: Taraji P. Henson as Cookie Lyon, Nicole Beharie as Abbie Mills and of course, Viola Davis as Annalise Keating.
Olivia wasn’t just a lead, she was A Boss. She made click-clacking in designer heels and fast-talking an aspirational way of life. So what does it say that this generation-defining character became so closely tied to cleaning up white mess after white mess. Not even to mention that overgrown, over-privileged, whiny baby of a President that she couldn’t seem to quit loving.
Please don’t get me wrong, Olivia Pope was the hero of her own story. I would never disrespect Shonda Rhimes’ or Kerry Washington’s work by saying different. But I — the young Black woman sitting at home watching this powerful lightning rod of a woman become broken by mediocre white men over and over again, having nothing but heartbreak, fabulous knit sweaters, and bottles of wine to call the comfort of her own — I deserved better.
From me, the week that we lost Naya:
Santana was too bright, too once-in-a-lifetime, and Naya Rivera worked too hard at her career for far too long, taking bit commercials and one-off guest stars since she was a child, for this not to be her moment. It’s not behind the scenes drama to simply state that there are less opportunities for Black Latina girls in Hollywood. Those are the facts of structural racism. As Santana Lopez, Naya Rivera beat odds, and she changed any previously conceived scripts about whom people would care about in a mainstream teen show — they could care just as much about the Latina lesbian as they would about the white heterosexual leads…. She’s the star.
There really was nothing like Glee. And at its worst, very little was as actively harmful. But as Santana Lopez, Naya Rivera shined a light on the best of us. On set, she out-worked everyone around her. And that’s not me, that’s her own cast mates saying that!
Damn. She deserved the world.
Clocking in at a full decade of time spent with us, Callie Torres is the longest running queer woman character in television history, played by an iconic actor who publicly came out as bisexual a mere months after Callie left our screens, only further solidifying the role as an foundational part of our culture and history. She was one of the first characters to actually say the words “bisexual” on television. When she married her ex-wife Arizona Robbins, over 10 million viewers tuned in. Given these bonafides (Calliope Iphegenia Torres, put some respect on her name!), it might surprise you to see her on this list.
Callie Torres deserved better than her ending from the mainstay series. She deserved better than a bitter, insensitive custody agreement that was so wholly out of her character. She deserved a proper goodbye and not a rushed, tear-filled hug with Arizona at her front door. And more than anything, my God, she deserved more than that “Perfect” effing Penny.
Look at that smile. Look at that face.
It has been over four years. I’ll never shake my rage.
Poussey Washington Deserved Better Than To Be Their Martyr.
Honorable Mentions: Bette Porter (The L Word/Generation Q), Emma Hernandez (Vida), Eddie Martinez (Vida), Penelope and Elena Alvarez (One Day at a Time), Tyra Collette (Friday Night Lights), Khadijah James (Living Single), Regina Mills (Once Upon a Time), Blanca Evangelista (Pose), CJ Cregg (The West Wing), Tegan Price (How to Get Away with Murder), Moesha Mitchell (Moesha), and Joan Carol Clayton (Girlfriends)
Where to stream gay TV:
89 Queer TV Shows to Stream on Netflix
32 Lesbian, Queer & Bisexual (LGBTQ+) TV Shows Streaming Free on Amazon Prime
62 TV Shows On Hulu with LGBTQ+ Characters
In My Top 10 Television Characters, various members of Autostraddle’s TV Team will be telling you about the TV characters nearest and dearest to our hearts, EVEN the ones that aren’t lesbian / bisexual / or queer. Today, Autostraddle Intern Riese shares her favorite characters.
Image description: Six images in a collage. Michael Scott from The Office, Andy Dwyer from Parks and Recreation, Jason Stackhouse from True Blood, Kevin from Shameless, Jason from The Good Place and also Elmo, a red puppet with his mouth open.
As I was thinking through my picks for this project, I realized that a lot of the characters that came to mind — the kinds of characters I would enjoy seeing clips of in a YouTube compilation, for example — are… idiotic men? You know: men who’d probably fall into a manhole or die of scurvy without the smart and patient women in their lives. Underneath their confused exterior lies a heart of gold! For example: Andy Dwyer (Parks and Recreation), Kevin Ball (Shameless), Jason Stackhouse (True Blood), Gary (Veep), pretty much all of The Muppets. Also I sometimes… relate to Michael Scott? I want everyone to like me, I’m not very good at getting people to like me, and also… I am down to clown.
Image Description: Shane, a hot lesbian in a muscle tee with a very 2007 haircut, is looking intently at somebody, probably a girl let’s be real. The L Word.
How can I not give a minute to the legendary scrawny smoky-eyed shaggy-haired stylist and lover to the stars who jumpstarted my internal journey towards lesbianism and this very website? Shane gets a bad rap, but while re-watching for To L and Back, I am resolute in my position that she doesn’t deserve it. She can be avoidant or a pushover, but generally speaking she’s upfront about who she is and what she wants. She’s been through a lot of trauma. She’s an incredibly loyal friend. She respects boundaries. I love all these things but most of all, believe it or not, I thought to myself often WOW this woman is hot! I’m impartial to Generation Q Shane, but the original will always have a special place in my heart and low-rise pants.
Image Description: Buffy Summers, a slayer of vampires, holds a stake. She’s inside a house that has weird Christmas lights and lamps and signs and stuff.
Faith: “I’m looking at you, and everything you have, and I don’t know, I’m jealous. Then there I am. Everybody’s looking to me, trusting me to lead them and I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life.”
Buffy: “Yeah?”
Faith: “And that’s you, every day. Isn’t it?”
Image Description: Omar Little sits on a red bench in front of a red brick building, wearing all black. He looks pensive.
Constructing this list was difficult — do I include characters who meant a lot to me for specific personal reasons, or characters who I feel were objectively some of the best constructed in television history? I ended up going mostly with the former, but Omar stood out amongst my candidates for the latter. (The runner-up for my quality character slot: Ruth Fisher from Six Feet Under.) At the time, the idea of a hyper-masculine character involved in the universe of drug dealers in inner-city Baltimore being unapologetically and openly gay was virtually unheard of, and he emerged quickly as one of the show’s most specific and complicated characters. In a story often defined by impulsive, shocking or uncharacteristic choices, Omar disrupted the game and the narrative with a specific ethical code and a philosophical approach to his work. I mean…. “I got the gun, you got the briefcase” — that whole scene was PERFECT. (Also um, everything Natalie said)
Image Description: Tami Taylor in a teal v-neck at what looks like a team celebration at a bar
I didn’t expect a show about football in small-town Texas to portray maybe the first fully drawn, authentic marriage I’d ever seen on television. Most relationships between men and women are painted with only the broadest of strokes, but Friday Night Lights colored everything in. Is Tammi Taylor a very hot Mommi? Yes. That cannot be denied. But she’s also so ambitious and funny and smart and so diplomatic. She stands her ground while making the right amount of room for yours. She balances a healthy skepticism of football’s centrality to her local culture with support of her husband and the boys he coached. Also, her eldest daughter is insufferable and yet she rises. Feminism!
Image Description: Santana on stage in a black dress belting Rumor Has It. The Troubletones (Brittany, Mercedes, random extras) are behind her, wearing black dresses.
I have kept the “5” spot open for hours know as I slowly slip from consciousness into being basically half-asleep. I kept Villanelle here for a while, Emmet Honeycutt spent some time in this area, Poussey, etc. I’m gonna go with our girl. You can read all about it here.
(Photo by Richard Cartwright/ABC via Getty Images) (Image Description: Olivia Pope is wearing a hot white trenchcoat situation and walking past a guarded gate. Everybody else is going through the metal detector BUT NOT OLIVIA. She’s walking quickly with some kind of pass around her neck. She looks very hot and busy.)
Sometimes before business meetings we were nervous about, Alex and I would have a mid-afternoon cocktail while repeating a mantra to ourselves regarding the importance of channeling Olivia Pope. I’m chronically indecisive but Olivia Pope always knew exactly what to do, or knew at least how to give the impression she knew exactly what to do. Olivia Pope had a kind of confidence and power rarely granted to female protagonists but distributed gratuitously amongst the men of television. As Natalie writes so eloquently in her Top Ten, “power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely… and Olivia Pope is no exception.”
Image: Tech entrepreneur Joe MacMillion sits at a desk in front of a large computer, in the 90s. He’s wearing a leather jacket and glasses. The walls are exposed brick, it’s the big loft office space.
Two weeks ago I had Cameron Howe on this list. One week ago it was Donna. And after I finished a recreational re-watch of the entire series, I surprised myself by landing on Joe. He’s charismatic, he’s nimble, he’s brilliant, he’s overbearing, he’s impulsive. Of all the central characters in this universe, he’s got the furthest to climb into what his peers would call “integrity,” but he sure does get there. But I’m also not sure that it was ever lacking, for me. Ultimately despite the slick exterior, he’s relentlessly loyal to the vision above all else. Certainly above himself. It’s not really about the money, although that’s part of it. He wants to live on the cutting edge, he wants to be in the room where it happens and he is uniquely capable of identifying and fostering talent and pushing it in that direction. I think he and Cameron keep coming back to each other because they both love to think really hard forever and they’re both so bright. Everything he does is in service of “the thing that gets you to the thing.” In some ways I think his bisexuality — which he generally had to obscure to succeed at that time — is often what keeps him a little more humble than the typical handsome white cis male smooth talker. Any queer person can relate to that, how it puts you just far enough outside of things to see what people on the inside can’t touch. His scenes with Haley in the final season make me wish I didn’t hate the word “tender.”
Image Description: Ilana is wearing a hoodie that’s actually a dog hoodie, and also she has little pigtails. She’s at work and is mouthing off to her boss.
I think a theme of this list is that I’m drawn to confidence — overconfidence, even, especially when it veers into the absurd. llana is so fucking hungry and horny and hilarious. She has appetites and believes strongly in her right to satiate them. She’s loud and in love with her best friend and starving for adventure above anything resembling pragmatism. She wears crop-tops and flannels and boy’s underpants and dog hoodies, maintains a full bush, smokes copious amounts of weed, falls hard for every executive-class woman in a power suit, yells at strangers about the patriarchy, is pretty sure everyone else is queer too and has the closest thing to a bisexual bob a curly-haired Ashkenazi Jew could ever hope for.
Image Description: Angela Chase, a teenager with red hair in the mid-90s, stares at the camera in a classroom. It’s blurry behind her but you can still recognize ricky and brian’s backs.
I can’t talk about myself about my life about being 13 without talking about when Angela Chase was 15 and it was 1994 and all of our parents had protested actual wars or sometimes even fought in them and we were just kinda-pretty white girls with baby-doll dresses and flannels that swallowed our bones and pretty decent lives and epic endless wells of longing. Just one long longing. I mean I dyed my hair like her. Everything else I needed to be Angela Chase I already had. The crush on a mysterious idiot, the parents fraying at the seams, the relentless over-analysis, the intoxicated/intoxicating best friend. “It’s such a lie that you should do what’s in your heart. If we all did what was in our hearts, the world would grind to a halt.” MY QUEEN
Strongly Considered: Devon (I Love Dick), Villanelle (Killing Eve), Sam Fox (Better Things), Emmett Honeycutt (Queer as Folk), Freckle (The Gay and Wondrous Life of Caleb Gallo), Ruth Fisher (Six Feet Under), Shelli Pfefferman (Transparent), CJ Cregg (The West Wing), Brian Kinney (Queer as Folk), Poussey Washington (Orange is the New Black), Cindy (Orange is the New Black), Tig (One Mississippi), Kermit the Frog (The Muppet Show), Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds), James (The L Word), Leila (The Bisexual), Eric (True Blood)
In My Top 10 Television Characters, various members of Autostraddle’s TV Team will be telling you about the TV characters nearest and dearest to our hearts, EVEN the ones that aren’t lesbian/ bisexual / or queer. Today, the TV Team’s resident bisexual, Natalie, shares her Top 10.
I didn’t realize until after I submitted my television Top 10 last month that they were all united by one common thread — all the shows had ended their runs — and that is a thread that continues here. I suppose I’m drawn to seeing a fully formed story: of being able to judge a show by how it started and finished.
I’m not sure what it says about me — or, more precisely perhaps, what it says about television — that this list isn’t full of characters that feel like representations of me or the people that I’m drawn to in real life. But what’s truest about me is that the thing I love most is incisive writing. I love complicated, well-drawn characters, particularly those that end up in a space that, perhaps, you never could’ve imagined at the outset but that feels wholly authentic to the person we’ve gotten to know.
There’s a great scene in the third season of Mad Men — one of my favorite moments of the entire series, actually — when Peggy Olson stumbles out of a weed smoke filled room and heads back to her office. She’s brimming with confidence but her secretary, Olive, is worried. Olive’s older… she’s from a generation that didn’t dare dream of the life that Peggy’s achieved — a woman writing copy for Sterling-Cooper, with her own office and secretary — and she’s so invested in seeing Peggy go further.
“Oh, my God. You’re scared,” Peggy tells her, after realizing the source of her secretary’s scorn. She crouches down beside Olive and reassures her, “Don’t worry about me. I am going to get to do everything you want for me.”
The moment underscores the transformation that Peggy’s undergone and the transformation that still awaits… and, of everything that happens on Mad Men, Peggy’s character development is, by far, the most interesting part.
There’s something beautifully subversive about Survivor’s Remorse. The show took the stereotypes we traditionally ascribe to basketball players — loud, braggadocious, promiscuous — and gave them to the basketball player’s lesbian sister, Mary Charles (M-Chuck). She’s brash and unapologetic in a way that television rarely allows lesbians to be and I love M-Chuck for it. The brainchild of Mike O’Malley — better known, perhaps, as Burt Hummel — M-Chuck feels like a kindred spirit to Santana Lopez: one a lesbian from Dorcester, the other a lesbian from Lima Heights Adajacent… neither of them willing to take anyone’s shit.
Nothing makes me laugh quite as hard as M-Chuck’s hijinks on Survivor’s Remorse — her trip to church still makes me break out in riotous laughter, no matter how many times I’ve seen it — but, in season three, the show goes beyond the hilarity and deepens M-Chuck’s character in a really profound way. I’ll always wish that this show had gone on for a few more seasons, at least, to see the person M-Chuck grew into… but even still, M-Chuck’s character arc was surprising and gratifying.
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 had 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.
Everyone knows that aphorism, “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” but the rest of the quote, which is often forgotten, is “great men are almost always bad men.” We’ve seen that great men be bad on television more often than I can count, Scandal proved to us that the same could be true of great women too.
Olivia Pope is a bad person but she doesn’t start out that way. When Olivia’s right-hand man, Harrison, extends a job offer to Quinn in the show’s first episode, he makes that clear: “We all get paid crap salaries because we’re the good guys…[This is] the best job you’ll ever have. You’ll change lives, slay dragons, love the hunt more than you ever dreamed because Olivia Pope is as amazing as they say.” The Olivia Pope we meet in the first season is good but she — because she is a woman, because she is a black woman — has to be great.
But the closer Olivia Pope draws to greatness, the more her view of what defines it changes. Can you truly be great if your work is subject to the whims and messes of the world’s most powerful people? Olivia’s descent is fueled by the belief that it is not. True greatness can only be achieved with power and Olivia clamors for that until it’s hers. But power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely… and Olivia Pope is no exception… and that descent into absolute corruption makes Scandal worth watching.
Vida‘s series finale is filled with moments that you couldn’t have imagined when Lyn and Emma Hernandez first return to their Boyle Heights neighborhood to say goodbye to their mother. I remain in awe of how much character development Tanya Saracho packed into so few episodes and am remiss that she wasn’t afforded more.
For me, the moment that strikes the deepest happens when Emma walks into her father’s church to confront him over his claim against the building. The fact that Emma’s there at all — in her father’s church, in East LA, at all — seems improbable but when called to defend what’s hers, Emma blows past her boundaries and fights for the bar she finally recognizes as her legacy. Her father defends his actions as a reaction against the hedonism he’d witness there…”the perverted spirit of homosexuality that [Emma’s] mother left,” he says.
“Oh, not just my mother, Victor…Your daughter, la hija del pastor, is a queer,” Emma announces to the entire church. “Que soy marimacha. Que soy marimacha.”
It’s such a profound moment but one that almost gets lost in the chaos that follows. Emma came back to Boyle Heights certain of who she was, though still intensely private about it — even Eddy doesn’t know until the show’s final season — but she still carries the shame her mother heaped on her. It feels like every step we’ve taken with Emma… from when she sees Cruz again to the confrontation by Cruz’s friends at the Vaquero wedding to hook-up with Baco to her relationship with Nico… has led us to this moment where Emma can proclaim her queerness (and, by extension, defend the queerness on display at the bar) unapologetically. Finally, she understands that the shame is not hers, it is theirs.
“You are your mother’s daughter,” Victor spits, after Emma threatens to expose his abusive history.
“Yes, I am,” Emma answers…almost proudly.
Sometime before The Good Wife‘s story begins, Leela Tahiri puts on her armor — leather jackets and knee-high boots, most often — and becomes Kalinda Sharma. With that, the truth becomes more malleable, relationships become transactional and the only allegiance Kalinda has is to herself. The mistakes of her tumultuous marriage — whatever they were, I never quite understood what went on there — won’t be repeated so Kalinda Sharma tries to make herself impenetrable.
It doesn’t work.
It doesn’t work in the moments when Kalinda bends over backwards to secure Alicia’s spot at Lockhart-Gardner or when she commits a felony to get Cary out of prison or when she breaks down after identifying her best friend’s lifeless body. She’s never as impenetrable as she wants to be. She cares, despite herself.
I hate the way Kalinda’s arc on The Good Wife ended — I’m not sure that I’ll ever forgive Robert and Michelle King for squandering Archie Panjabi’s talents — but, nonetheless, it gave the show the highest of its highs. Watching Kalinda become the person she never wanted to be is the best part of The Good Wife.
Jesse Pinkman wasn’t supposed to live past the first season of Breaking Bad. He was the drop-out and small-time drug cook/dealer who was going to introduce Walter White to the drug trade and then, in the season finale, he’d be a casualty to Walt’s increasing sociopathy. But the writers’ strike curtailed the production of the show’s first season and, in the interim, the show’s creator reconsidered. Jesse would live onto be Breaking Bad‘s most compelling character and the antithesis to the monster Walter White becomes.
There is always good in Jesse — deep down, inside, he’s still that kid who wants so desperately for his parents to love him — and that’s what separates him from Walt, in my book. Walt feigns indifference until it becomes actual indifference but Jesse carries the weight of all the horror Heisenberg wrought. Twice, Jesse’s called on to kill someone else: the first time, he flinches, nearly getting himself killed, and the second time, the tears in his eyes threaten to spill onto his cheeks. The bad swirls around him but the good in Jesse is always right there… in his effort to save an abuse child from his meth head parents, in his love for Jane, in his persistent fight for Andrea and Brock… and you never feel like he’s irredeemable.
Gus Fring is, perhaps, the exception to my “good character arc” rule: he maintains his impenetrable facade throughout his run on Breaking Bad. Still, though, he’s utterly compelling, particularly with how he slips from pure sophistication in one moment, to absolute villainy in another, in the blink of an eye… like in “Box Cutter” where he changes from mild mannered businessman to unrepentant murderer and back, without saying a word.
Breaking Bad hints that there’s more to Gustavo Fring — that he wasn’t always this impenetrable force — but the only time you get to see that is in his pursuit of revenge for the death of his one-time partner, Victor. His thirst for vengeance and, particularly, his need to torture Hector Salamanca, contradict Gus’ usual risk-adverse nature. Those deviations are what ultimately leads to his downfall.
In her final closing argument, Annalise Keating takes off the mask that she’s been wearing from the moment we met her. Over the years, the mask has slipped, revealing in short bursts how Anna Mae Harkness became Annalise Keating, but it’s not until the finale that she makes it plain for everyone. She admits to the awful things she’s done and the path that brought her there: the racial taunts she faced as a child, the sexual abuse she survived at 11, the internalized homophobia that kept her from committing to her first love, the loss of her son, the murder of her husband, the alcoholism, the depression, the grief.
“Who I am is a 53-year-old woman from Memphis, Tennessee, named Anna Mae Harkness,” she admits. “I’m ambitious, black, bisexual, angry, sad, strong, sensitive, scared, fierce, talented, exhausted.”
It’s hard imaging the Annalise we meet in Season One revealing these truths about herself; death might have been preferable. But in between all the OMFG moments that made HTGAWM the rollercoaster ride that it was, Annalise Keating grew… and became a better version of herself… and with Viola Davis steering the portrayal, it was enthralling to watch.
Midway through The Wire‘s second season, Omar Little is called the stand as the prosecution’s star witness in the murder trial of Marquis “Bird” Hilton. It’s one of the best scenes in the entire series…. one that, if you’d been ambivalent about Omar until then, cements you as a lifelong fan. It showcases the thing I love most about Omar: the rich duality of his character.
Omar strolls into the courtroom looking clean: fresh braid, crisp, new black and red outfit with a matching Hawaiian Warriors varsity jacket and — per the prosecutor’s instructions — a haphazardly worn tie. He taunts his rivals as he makes his way to the stand, unafraid to let them know that he’s behind their downfall. He gets on the stand and, for the most part, tells the absolute truth. He’s candid and charming, in a way that completely disarms the jury. He’s an unrepentant gangster who accepts his role in the game — in stark contrast to the defense attorney who justifies his complicity — but he’s restrained by a moral code.
The only thing? Omar’s entire reason for being in court that day is a lie. He’s testifying to a murder her never saw, not for a sweetheart deal from the prosecutor but to avenge the death of his boyfriend, Brandon, who died viciously at Bird’s hands. But none of it matters, really, because by the time he steps off the stand, everyone in the courtroom believes the most honest guy in the room is a gangster who spends his days robbing ‘hoods.
Honorable Mentions: Amy Gardner, The West Wing; Arabella Essiedu, I May Destroy You; Blanca Evangelista, Pose; CJ Cregg, The West Wing; Jessica Pearson, Suits; Penelope Alvarez, One Day at a Time and Tegan Price, HTGAWM.
Where to stream gay TV:
89 Queer TV Shows to Stream on Netflix
32 Lesbian, Queer & Bisexual (LGBTQ+) TV Shows Streaming Free on Amazon Prime
In My Top 10 Television Characters, various members of Autostraddle’s TV Team will be telling you about the TV characters nearest and dearest to our hearts, EVEN the ones that aren’t lesbian / bisexual / or queer. Today, writer Drew Gregory reveals that she is in fact a Capricorn.
I’m officially against the whole born in the wrong body trans narrative. But when I was in 9th grade I really did feel like Lindsay Weir trapped in Sam Weir’s body. Growing up I was what adults would call a “good kid.” I studied hard, I followed the rules, I tried to be kind to others. But as I entered adolescence I found myself doubting the “good” I was told and felt drawn to those with more radical politics or just ways of existing — people I now know to be queer. I saw so much of myself in Lindsay’s struggle to defy expectations but still be true to her values, the desire to hang with the cool people while wondering if they’re even cool at all. I may have looked like Sam, but my big sister wasn’t Lindsay. I was my own Lindsay. I protected myself. I even bought a similar jacket.
I don’t have a lot in common in with Nomi Marks. But we are both trans and we are both gay and she feels like an actual human person and I do too. I could talk about how she’s a cool hacker spiritually connected to people around the world. I could talk about how she’s tender and caring towards everyone she meets. I could talk about how she fights back against the oppression she faces. But all of those reasons would be lies. Nomi Marks is on this list because she is a trans lesbian. No, because she is the trans lesbian. And I saw her on screen the year before I came out. And then I saw her on screen the month after I came out. And that was everything. It is everything. Sometimes it’s that simple.
The cis obsession with trans death is an obsession with survival. Mainstream audiences love a suicide, a murder, a self-mutilation. They love to watch us cry. There is only an interest in our pain. And their message is clear: if we survive, then we are lucky. We can ask for nothing more, because we’ve already asked for so much. Fuck that. Angel Evangelista is a Black trans sex worker who is a well of endless want. She has dreams for the balls, dreams for her career, dreams for love. But the brilliance of Pose — and Indya Moore’s performance — is the fulfillment of these dreams isn’t presented in fantasy. Or, rather, there is a balance between fantasy and reality.
Angel doubts herself. She has moments where she internalizes the message not to ask for too much. She struggles. But with the support of her mother Blanca (more on her later) she thrives. Pose is on different level of trans representation than anything else on TV. It’s a reminder on screen and in its existence that trans people should never put a cap on our dreams. And I hope Indya Moore fulfills all of their own. They deserve everything.
Everyone wants to talk about Villanelle! And, yes, I am charmed by the hot murderer in impeccably fitted clothes as much as the next queer. But what I love most about Killing Eve is seeing Villanelle through Eve’s eyes. I love Eve’s complicated love. I love falling into Eve’s point of view and riding that roller coaster of lust and admiration and utter horror. It’s why season three’s choice to decenter Eve led to such a middling set of episodes. First of all, why would you ever decenter Sandra Oh?? Second, the shift in point of view removes the thrill of the series. It’s like bisexual Breaking Bad. It’s fun to watch a moral spiral. But while some people are sick and want to support their family, other people are just a sucker for a woman in a blazer. You can decide if I’m joking. Wait did I mention Sandra Oh’s hair?? Sandra Oh’s hair.
As a trans woman and a lifelong cinephile, I’ve spent most of my life scurrying into the corners of my brain that confuse real life with fiction. If I’m just a character in a story then life hits just a little bit easier. I think one could call this dissociating? Rebecca Bunch finds her own escape in narrativizing, specifically in the form of elaborate genre-spanning musical numbers. It’s how she convinces herself that it’s okay to do wrong and it’s how she corrects herself when the reality of that wrong-doing crashes through.
I’m not sure if I’d like Rebecca if I knew her in real life. I’m not sure I could forgive all the things she’s done. But what a treat to spend time in her interiority and to watch her grow and be better and then be worse and then better again and then worse again and then better. I don’t approve of everything Rebecca does, but I understand mental illness manifesting as an obsession with love. I’ve felt that simmering want to be cared for the way everyone deserves. I’ve experienced the struggle of trying to heal under the relentlessness of patriarchy. And I’ll forever be grateful to Rachel Bloom and Rebecca Bunch for providing a soundtrack of theatre kid enthusiasm for some of my most challenging years.
There’s a moment in the second season of Sex Education when Maeve Wiley is chastising her mother. After abandoning Maeve in the midst of struggles with addiction, her mother has returned claiming to be better — a baby half-sister for Maeve in tow. Trust is already tenuous and now she’s neglected to share that she’s out of work. She apologizes to Maeve, she pleads for forgiveness, she insists she’s still sober. “I believe you,” Maeve says. She stands up and adds, “Lie to me one more time and you’re out.” She softens these words with a gentle kiss on her mother’s cheek. What Maeve is doing is parenting. It’s tender and it’s painful and it shouldn’t be Maeve’s job.
Bad girl with a heart of gold is something of a trope, but it’s also something of a reality. Being a bitch, being cynical, being an outsider are all fairly tempting defense mechanisms against the harshness of the world — especially for an adolescent. But they have nothing to do with intelligence or kindness. Maeve has so much to offer and she deserves so much more than she’s received. I love watching her learn that both of these things are true. I love watching how quickly she softens when she’s given the love she should have always been given. The gay trans experience is growing up an Otis who wants to date a Maeve before realizing you’re actually a Maeve who wants to date an Ola. Take that as an unofficial pitch for season three.
Fiction likes to frame those who reach beyond expectations as brave. To be the first, to defy oppression, to succeed with improbable success takes courage. But these words — bravery, courage — have always struck me as dehumanizing. If a man wants something it’s because he wants it. If a woman wants the same thing it’s because she has guts. Did Peggy Olson have guts? I suppose. But across seven seasons Peggy’s evolution from meek secretary to confident writer felt less like a choice and more like an inevitability. She’s not trying to be the only woman writer at Sterling Cooper. She’s just trying to be a writer.
It’s impossible for me to think about Mad Men outside of the context of show creator Matthew Weiner’s abuse. It’s impossible to watch Peggy stand up to the men around her and not wonder how many of those lines were written by the women on staff as veiled responses to Weiner himself. It’s impossible not to wonder who Peggy might’ve been outside of patriarchy and it’s impossible not to wonder what television shows we could’ve watched from Emmy-winner Kater Gordon if she hadn’t been fired after season three and left the industry altogether. There’s no separating the art from the artist, the character from society both past and present. Peggy Olson exists as a Frankenstein’s monster of feminism and patriarchy, possibility and despair, fantasy and the harshest reality. She is a product of her times.
Some people think Bette Porter is a hot and powerful dream dyke who can melt your heart proselytizing about art or yelling about politics. Other people think Bette Porter is a hot and manipulative nightmare dyke who’s controlling and selfish and has never met a woman she wouldn’t cheat on. I say, why choose?
My relationship with The L Word is complicated. I question its influence as the community’s reigning holy text while continuing to rewatch, discuss, and recommend it to any baby queer I meet. There remains a power to this shared cultural experience in a world where shared cultural experiences still remain largely straight and male. It was kept from me for years and certainly was never made with someone like me in mind and yet I can’t resist its charm — and that includes Bette Porter. She is, for better or worse, everything I find attractive. Yes, the confidence. Yes, the suits. Yes, Jennifer Beals. But IF I’M BEING HONEST the moments that really get me are when she experiences Stendhal syndrome in Peggy Peabody’s hotel room. And when she testifies to Senate committee. All I want is a power lesbian who gets overly emotional about art and can verbally destroy a senator. Is that so much to ask?
I loved Frank Capra movies as a kid. I even quoted Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in my college essay about fighting for queer acceptance at my high school. Lost causes are the only causes worth fighting for. In the second episode of Pose, Blanca Evangelista is at a gay bar. The mostly white, all cis, all male gays don’t want her there. Blanca asks to speak to the manager. “Why do you always have to pick fights you can’t win,” her sometimes friend, former house sister Lulu asks. “Because these are the ones worth fighting,” Blanca replies. She will spend the rest of the episode returning to the bar, getting harassed, and ultimately getting arrested. Blanca is naïve. She believes that she can create change through sheer will power. She believes that she can create a better world for herself and her children.
As the years passed, I became too politically aware for the Frank Capra movies I used to love. Too wise to see Jimmy Stewart’s everyman as anything other than a liberal fantasy. But Blanca is a reminder that there’s nothing wise about cynicism. She’s a reminder that wanting better for yourself and your community and your world is not naïve but necessary. Mj Rodriguez has created a character unlike any other. She gives her a vulnerability and a tenderness that makes her fierce power all the stronger. Her voice is breathtaking, her words even moreso. Blanca is the mother everybody deserves. She is the Mother of the Year. Of every year. She gives me the strength to keep fighting for lost causes. And Angel might make fun of her “clockable” style, but with her sporty crop tops and light wash jeans I think she’s a fashion icon.
I don’t know what to say except that I understand Emma Hernandez. I understand her need for autonomy. I understand her desire to do right by her family. I understand her attempts at control. I understand her walls. I understand her trauma. I understand her vulnerability. I understand her mistakes. I understand how she loves. I understand how she wants. I understand how she disappoints and how she’s disappointed. I understand her as a sister. And a daughter. I understand her trying.
If you’ve read this far I think it’s pretty clear that I love a highly competent femme with a lot of personal problems. Maybe I’m projecting. No, I’m definitely projecting. I’m a Capricorn. I like to be in control. I’ve convinced myself that to be successful is to be loved, that every emotion can be solved like a puzzle, every conflict resolved with skill. It’s an exhausting way to live. But I’m working on it. And I find comfort in characters who are also working on it — especially when that work is incomplete. And when I think of every single character in the history of television (!) the one I find the most comfort in is Emma. Tanya Saracho created a special character in a special show and Mishel Prada realized her with an endless well of complexity. She’s not the kind of character we usually think of as a character. She’s much too grounded for that. But throughout Vida‘s three seasons, Emma was fierce and guarded and funny and mean and hot and devastating and heartbreaking and terrible and wonderful and hateful and loving and hateful and loving. She changed so much while changing not at all. That’s how people grow. That’s how I’m trying to grow.
Honorable mentions: Tasha Jefferson (Orange is the New Black), Nicky Nichols (Orange is the New Black), Santana Lopez (Glee), Shea (Transparent), Villanelle (Killing Eve), Candy Ferocity (Pose), Elektra Abundance (Pose), Fleabag (Fleabag), Alice Pieszecki (The L Word), Donna Pinciotti (That 70s Show), Charley Bordelon (Queen Sugar), Nova Bordelon (Queen Sugar), Claire Fisher (Six Feet Under), Elena Alvarez (One Day at a Time), Topanga Lawrence (Boy Meets World)
Favorite character in the history of web series: Freckle (The Gay and Wondrous Life of Caleb Gallo)
Men? Oh men! Yeah I like a few of them: Eric Effiong (Sex Education), Ralph Angel Bordelon (Queen Sugar), Micah West (Queen Sugar), David Fisher (Six Feet Under), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), The Guy (High Maintenance), Rogelio De La Vega (Jane the Virgin), Pray Tell (Pose), every main character on Looking except Kevin and especially Richie
Where to stream gay TV:
89 Queer TV Shows to Stream on Netflix
32 Lesbian, Queer & Bisexual (LGBTQ+) TV Shows Streaming Free on Amazon Prime
In My Top 10 Television Characters, various members of Autostraddle’s TV Team will be telling you about the TV characters nearest and dearest to our hearts, EVEN the ones that aren’t lesbian / bisexual / or queer. Today, TV Team Editor Heather Hogan shares her feelings about women with a tough exterior and a gooey marshmallow center.
People are always surprised when I say that Mad Men is one of my favorite TV shows, but it’s because there’s a part of me that wishes every single TV series was this really slow character study with occasional bonkers plot twists, like the time Peggy stabbed her fiancé Abe with a makeshift spear. Peggy, actually, is the thing that makes Mad Men one of my favorites. Her growth over the course of seven seasons is astronomical, more than we get to see from most TV characters ever, and especially from women TV characters. I especially love that Peggy isn’t really a good guy. Sometimes she’s even kind of a jackass. But also she’s driven and brilliant and unapologetic and absolutely ridiculous. She produces some of the funniest and most iconic moments on the show — the octopus porn, sunglasses inside, and swagger in the photo above, just for one example — and in the end, she really does have it all.
In so many ways, The Golden Girls raised me and my sister, which is wild because when I rewatch it now — which I do every time I’m scrolling through channels and it’s on — I can’t believe my grandparents and parents didn’t intervene and turn it off! My sister has the sharpest wit of anyone I’ve ever met, and I think she learned it from Dorothy, who, to this day, has some of the best one-liners ever committed to film. In the ’80s in rural Georgia where I was learning that women should be meek and subservient, Dorthy Zbornak was independent and acerbic and not sorry for being the smartest person in the room. She was also the first TV character I ever saw with a lesbian friend, and she accepted and loved her, even though she didn’t reciprocate her feelings.
Okay, I know Nadiya Hussain isn’t exactly a TV character, but her arc on series six of Great British Bake Off could not have been plotted better if it was a film about a hero pastry chef. And anyway, I feel pretty confident Kayla’s going to put a Bravo reality star on her list and I won’t be alone. Nadiya came into the GBBO tent with big dreams, warm banter, serious skills, and a smile as bright as the sun. She slowly built her confidence after a slow start on technical challenges, kept impressing the pants off the judges and making Mel and Sue burst into fits of giggles, and was in some kind of baking zone in the finale. She cried when she won and said she’d never doubt herself again, and Mary Berry cried too.
That her season of triumph happened against the backdrop of the racist, xenophobic Brexit campaign in the UK and Donald Trump’s racist, xenophobic presidential campaign in the US made it even sweeter and more poignant. Since winning GBBO, Nadiya has taken the culinary world by storm and become a fierce advocate for mental health in the process. She’s changed my life as much as my favorite fictional TV characters.
I have such a complicated relationship with Pretty Little Liars. I’ve easily written more about this show than everything else in my career combined, which is probably why I also feel more let down by it than most teevee I’ve covered. Pretty Little Liars dropped the ball hard, and with its eyes wide open in the end, but for the first several seasons it was an unhinged, hilarious, brilliant, community-building, patriarchy-busting, heckin’ fascinating ride that I never wanted to end. Tippi the Bird was the best of the series. Named after classic Hitchcock, a truly BANANAPANTS plot point/twist, and when the writers realized how much fans — especially our gay #BooRadleyVanCullen crew — loved this damn parrot, they kept bringing back the jokes and dialogue about it. Tippi whistles a phone number as a clue. She keeps saying, “Hey, board shorts!” in her dead owner’s voice. To this day, I drop “Well, it ain’t Tippi the Bird” into conversation. It’s one of my fondest memories of a series that brought some of my best friends who became my chosen family into my life.
Garnet was one of my favorite TV characters before Steven Universe revealed that she’s a lesbian gem fusion of Ruby and Sapphire, but that sealed the deal and cemented her place atop my list forever. Garnet is fierce and quick-witted (are you sensing a pattern) and no-nonsense and also completely tender and literally made of love. Garnet actually describes herself best on her wedding day, fighting her arch-nemesis: “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.” No matter how overwhelmed I get, Garnet has the ability to infuse me with hope and strength. Just another thing me and Steven have in common.
Lois Lane made me gay. Okay that’s not exactly true. I was very gay the day I was born onto the earth. But Lois Lane appeared on my TV — and then later in ABC’s promo materials, wrapped up like this in Superman’s cape — when I was a young teenager with hormones that were going berserk with lesbianism in a way I didn’t understand. When I played pretend growing up, which was all the time, I was either a superhero, a professional athlete from a movie, or Marty McFly.
Part of it was that there weren’t women on TV doing what I loved to do, which was fight imaginary bad guys and save the day, win imaginary World Series, and time travel. The other part of it was when I imagined myself as any of those guys, my built-in imaginary companion was a woman. I actually related a lot to Lois and Clark’s Clark Kent (not Dean Cain). I was a well-meaning, hard-working goof with a good heart and a secret identity. I was also in love with Lois Lane. But! This Lois Lane made me face down the greatest gay conundrum for the first time: I also wanted to be her. She was just so much. Aggressive, determined, resourceful, successful, unafraid, and perpetually not sorry no matter how much trouble her mouth or her curiosity got her into. I’d never seen that on TV before.
Also, this photo is still the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon.
When our TV Team talks about One Day at a Time, which we do a lot, one thing we consistently marvel at is how safe and relaxed we feel when we watch the show. None of us are ever afraid of it punching down on us, a rare feeling for any series and especially a comedy with a leading lesbian character. But! Elena is both in on and the subject of so many of the shows best jokes. The way the other characters clown on her, though, is full of so much genuine love and affection that it feels like being goofed at by your best friends.
I love how proud she is to be gay, and Latinx, and an activist, and a nerd. I love that she stands up for what she thinks is right always and that her idealism hasn’t yet been bruised. I love how outraged she gets. I love how silly she is, especially with her sydnificant other. I love that she represents the generation that will survive this presidential administration and bring their brilliance and tenacity and anger to bear on the future they’ll build into a shape we’ve never even seen before. There’s a part of me that wishes Elena had been around when I was a teenager, but a bigger part of me that knows she’s meant for this moment, right now.
For most of my life I was scared of the word I think best describes me — dyke. I love it now. I love the way it sounds when I say it out loud and the way most people shrink back from it. I love that the people who don’t shrink back from it, who proclaim it the way I do, are my dearest companions. Gentleman Jack‘s Anne Lister is a dyke. It’s the way she dresses and walks and wields that walking stick, the way she makes other women feel, at dinner and in the drawing room and in bed. It’s her antagonism toward all men. It’s her posture. It’s her gait. It’s the way she gesticulates. Anne Lister was a complicated woman. A revolutionary in so many ways, but backwards-thinking in many others, especially in terms of class and capitalism. I’m so relieved Gentleman Jack didn’t brush over that and make her some kind of one-note hero. I’m also relieved I can stop projecting myself onto Fitzwilliam Darcy, or at least that I can split my time projecting onto him and Anne.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it as long as I live: No TV character besides Ellen DeGeneres had as big an impact on our culture and our politics as Santana Lopez. She arrived on-screen at a time when the gay rights movement needed one huge push to gain marriage equality and reverse Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and to achieve those goals we needed a majority of Americans to support gay people. Santana, on primetime on Fox, was an enormous part of manifesting that reality.
But it’s essential to understand that Santana also changed things on a micro level. When Naya Rivera passed away, the outpouring of love and grief for her from the LGBTQ+ community contained a zillion similar messages: “I once was this sad, scared, lonely, confused person. And then Santana Lopez happened. And now I am this proud, resilient, open, authentic, brave person you see today.” She changed our literal lives. That would be enough. That would be more than enough. But she also endlessly entertained us. She made us laugh and dance and cry and swoon and sing and sing some more. I don’t know who I would be without her. I really don’t.
As always, when I talk about Annalise Keating, I want to tell you first and foremost to read Natalie.
And then secondly I want to tell you that I still cannot believe Viola Davis — Viola Davis! — played a bisexual character on primetime network TV. It feels like a fever dream, even after the show has ended. There’s never been a moment when Viola Davis has been on-screen that I’ve been able to look away (except for when it was pre-planned, like when she’s in a movie like Widows where she’s squashing heads). She delights me, she devastates me, she enchants me.
I don’t think I have ever longed for a character’s freedom and happiness the way I did for Annalise Keating’s, and not just because it warms my actual bones when Viola Davis smiles. A Black queer woman from the Bible belt who had to hold the entire world together, and could and did, despite her own trauma and the incompetence and selfishness of people around her, and who empowered and protected those she loved the most, and hurt them too, and was forgiven and who learned to forgive herself. A woman who didn’t believe she deserved happiness or contentment or love, but who found it anyway. (Because she did deserve those things.) A woman who feared her gayness, despite her general lack of fear about anything, and learned to embrace it.
There has truly never, ever been a character like Annalise Keating on TV, and we’ve scarcely seen an actor of Viola Davis’ caliber playing someone queer. I know how lucky I am to have witnessed it and I will treasure it forever.
Honorable mentions: Scorpia, Catra, and Adora (She-Ra), Janet (The Good Place), M-Chuck (Survivor’s Remorse), The Dog Who Ate Dan’s Heart (One Tree Hill), Shaw (Person of Interest), Helen Stewart (Bad Girls), Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn Nine-Nine), Alex Danvers (Supergirl).
Where to stream gay TV:
89 Queer TV Shows to Stream on Netflix
32 Lesbian, Queer & Bisexual (LGBTQ+) TV Shows Streaming Free on Amazon Prime