In interviews about The L Word reboot, Ilene Chaiken often mentions her assumption, at TLW’s conclusion in 2009, that the initiative she’d begun would be taken up by future showrunners and networks — that we’d enter a bold new era of lesbian-centric programming. Gay cable channels Logo and Here! had recently launched and we were full of hope. Chaiken was, as you probably have gathered, incorrect. But – there have been some shows that symbolically picked up the torch to varying degrees and that’s what we’re here to talk about today. The headline references the “Cast Full of Gays” trope, which is a much easier list to make (e.g., Queer as Folk, Looking, Noah’s Arc, Dante’s Cove, etc.) because of the patriarchy.
The criteria for this list were as follows: the program was produced and broadcast by an actual television or streaming network (rather than picked up later by one) and is not a “webseries,” it aims for realism, the lead(s) are queer and its focus is one or more lesbian, bisexual or queer women and her/their romantic, sexual and social lives. This does not include very queer shows that are primarily about supernatural situations (e.g., Lost Girl, Wynonna Earp, Sense8) or prison life (e.g., Orange is the New Black, Bad Girls, Wentworth) or the law (e.g., How to Get Away With Murder, Janet King), but shows that are about people and their relationships first and foremost. This usually means they fall into “prime-time soap” category. However, having a lesbian or bisexual lead and being realistic isn’t enough (e.g., Everything Sucks!, Gypsy, Broad City), the queer element has to be the show’s focus and the show’s essential hook without which the show would have no argument for its own existence. I didn’t include The Fosters because the kids’ stories are given equal importance / screen time to the lesbian Moms as opposed to the more clearly defined side-plot status of the straights on the other shows in this list. Even Ellen wouldn’t count because she was ostensibly straight for the first many seasons. These are shows that put lesbian and bisexual women and their social and romantic relationships with other queer women first.
Ratings System: Percentage based on score out of 30
10 points: 1 point for every 10% of the show that is focused on queer stories
10 points: The presence of lesbian/bisexual friends, with the highest score going to shows that portray queer social groups / social life
10 points: % of lead characters who are lesbian/bisexual
Watch: On Netflix or Amazon
Leads: Jennifer Schecter (lesbian), Shane McCutcheon (lesbian), Tina Kennard (bisexual), Kit Porter (straight), Alice Pieszecki (bisexual), Bette Porter (lesbian)
As Shirley Bassey sings in a remix played during that scene in Season Two when Alice and Dana “debut” as a couple at The Planet, “where do I begin?” The answer is: right here, with The L Word. This is where we begin.
Watch: Season One on DVD, Seasons 2 & 3 are streaming on Amazon Prime
Leads: Spencer Carlin (lesbian) & Ashley Davies (bisexual)
Secondary Leads: Spencer’s brother Glen and her parents (all heterosexual), Ashley and Spencer’s friend Aiden (heterosexual).
For a moment, when both South of Nowhere and The L Word existed at the same time on the same planet, it seemed a tide was turning and our stories had suddenly become viable television products. LOL. But so many owe their lesbian awakenings to this tender teen drama about Spencer, who moves to Los Angeles from the midwest with her family, gets a new best friend Ashley, and gradually discovers that she likes girls (including Ashley, who also likes girls). It was the first series on The N to address the topic with its primary characters, was reviewed favorably, and nominated for a GLAAD Media Award all three seasons. It started out so strong, giving us one of the first-ever femme teen couples on U.S. television, then created a very unpleasant Ashley/Aiden/Spencer love triangle and then spent entirely too much time trying to make us care about the straight characters before getting cancelled. NOBODY CARES ABOUT GLEN. Fans fought hard for a webseries following up the original program though, and got it, and the lead actresses remain regular fixtures at cons and in lesbian webseries.
Watch: On DVD or YouTube
Leads: Kim (lesbian) and Sugar (bisexual).
Secondary Leads: Kim’s parents, Nathan and Stella. (Heterosexual)
“It says something about the state of diversity in UK television that, currently, the best programme about lesbian relationships is a series from 2005,” wrote Radio Times in 2017, celebrating the release of Channel 4’s Pride Collection, further noting the “near-absence of lesbian shows in the Pride Collection” that indicated “a larger deficiency in the UK television industry.”
The series follows 15-year old Kim as she fights her burning crush on her new BFF, super bad girl Sugar, and struggles with her dysfunctional family — Mom’s shagging the carpenter while her Dad’s oblivious and heart-breakingly kind, and her brother literally believes he’s from another planet. But the focus is on Kim’s sexuality, her love for and friendship with Sugar and, later, her actual lesbian girlfriend Saint. It’s based on a YA novel you shouldn’t buy because the author is a terrible person. After two seasons the program was cancelled for mysterious reasons — a channel spokeswoman said the story of the girls had run its course, rumors suggested it was being removed to make room for Big Brother 8, and producers said the cancellation was “a last minute thing” and they were saddened to learn of it.
Watch: Online at Logo through local cable provider
Curl Girls was the first lesbian reality show on a major television channel, was part of Logo’s initial effort to actually provide lesbian representation as well as the same for gay men on their brand new cable channel. Logo described the cast like this: “Vanessa, who’ll go topless for her love of shock value; Melissa and Jessica, the on again-off again, steamy couple; Michele and Erin, the surfing pros of the group; and sexy new-girl Gingi.” They competed for a trip to Hawaii, which “strained their friendship” but apparently was not enough drama to earn the show a second season.
Watch: On Amazon Prime
Leads: Jennifer (lesbian), Sam (lesbian), Kris (lesbian), Chris (lesbian).
This American/Canadian TV series, created by and starring lesbian comedian Michelle Paradise, focused on the dating life of Jennifer, a documentary filmmaker and her friends — Sam (Marnie Alton), the femme Shane of the group, animal-obsessed couple Chris (Megan Cavanagh) and Kris (Angela Featherstone) and musician Crutch (Heather Matarazzo). Based on Paradise’s short film The Ten Rules: A Lesbian Survival Guide, Exes and Ohs had the general vibe of a mediocre ’90s lesbian movie. Still, many found it charming and endearing in its own way. Plus, it’s basically the only sitcom about a group of lesbian friends to ever exist AND as far as I know, the cast was mostly or entirely queer women, too.
Watch: On Logo’s website through your local cable provider
Gimme Sugar was Logo’s other reality offering for women, featuring a group of five lesbian and bisexual friends who put on Truck Stop, a hot party hosted at The Abbey in Los Angeles that I used to like a lot. Logo described it like this: “Five hot young friends on the L.A. lesbian club scene bite off more than they can chew when they try to launch and promote their own club night. If they succeed, they’ll be the youngest female promoters in LA. The girls will fight, fall in love, break apart, and come back together as they struggle to make their dream come true in this hot new reality series.” Season Two split the team between Miami and LA, a move that never really justified itself. We made fun of this show and acted like it was ridiculous until we tried to throw our own party and all of us were petty in emails and then sloppy-drunk fighting with each other at the bar the night of and realized that we lived in a glass house and shouldn’t throw stones.
Watch: On Hulu
Season One Leads: Cat Mackenzie (lesbian), Frankie Alan (lesbian), Tess Roberts (lesbian), Sam Murray (lesbian), Sadie Anderson (lesbian), Jay Adams (heterosexual male), Ed McKenzie (heterosexual male)
Season Two Leads: Tess Roberts (lesbian), Sam Murray (lesbian), Sadie Anderson (lesbian), Lexy Price (lesbian), Ed McKenzie (heterosexual male)
The closest think we ever got to The L Word was Lip Service, a Glasgow-set drama following a group of lesbian friends: neurotic architect Cat; her best friend Frankie, a brooding Shane-esque photographer; frazzled struggling actress Tess; hot cop Sam (this is how we all discovered Heather Peace!) and notorious bad girl Sadie. Season Two introduced Sexy Lexy Price, a doctor who moved in with Tess, Frankie and Sadie. It was fun and hot and compelling, but the show never really set up the sense of a larger queer social web or the city’s scene in the same way The L Word did, mainstream critics hated it and the community’s reaction was, according to Heather Davidson, “mixed.” She also noted that the show aired on BBC Three, its “youth-oriented” channel. I recapped a handful of episodes, watched it faithfully, truly enjoyed it and never felt bored or upset (besides when Cat was killed) — but still none of the involved characters come to mind when I think of my favorites. But 12 episodes isn’t a lot of time to shine, either. “What Lip Service was interested in showing you was sex, and lots of it – sex involving razors, sex involving funeral homes, sex involving condiments,” Heather wrote. “Honestly, it was a trip.”
Watch: On Showtime or Amazon Prime
It is not a secret that I hated every moment of this hellshow but y’all loved my petulant recaps and our parody videos and that was great for traffic! Each season was its own specific beast: Season One was a series of barely-intersecting mini-documentaries following four different stories including, most prominently, a group of young friends heavy into the WeHo party scene and Whitney Mixter. Whitney, along with her on-again-off-again girlfriend Sara and her ex Romi, were the series’ only consistent cast members. Aside from that, we got some fresh young Los Angeles faces who all interacted with each other in Season Two (including a butch/femme couple trying to get pregnant) and for Season Three, the show split itself between New York and Los Angeles, while still making a lot of room for crossover. The show definitely had its value, though. A year after its cancellation, the franchise produced the honestly touching and revelatory mini-documentary The Real L Word Mississippi: Hate The Sin.
Watch: on YouTube
This reality program set in The Candy Bar, a former lesbian hotspot in the Soho neighborhood of London, aimed to “follow the lives and loves of a group of young lesbians who work hard and party even harder,” promising “raunchy drama and unique characters.” A salacious promotional campaign generated controversy before the show even hit the air, but the show itself surprised at least one Guardian reviewer: “The show’s trailers were tongue-in-cheek soft porn, but the wink-wink, nudge-nudge vibe isn’t present in the show itself. Instead, we’re treated to a glimpse into the lives of a diverse group of women, whose only common link is their sexuality.” A marketing campaign that aimed to arouse straight men was maybe part of why the show didn’t last past its first season, but who can say! The program’s oft-highlighted draw was its inclusion of former Big Brother contestant Shabby Katchadourian.
Watch: Amazon Prime
Leads: Amy (lesbian) & Karma (unclear)
Secondary Leads: Shane (gay male), Liam (straight male)
The premise was as horrifying as they come but the result was often downright delightful: Amy and Karma, certifiably uncool best friends, pretend to be a lesbian couple to earn popularity points at their decidedly alternative high school in Austin. Then Amy realizes she might actually be a lesbian! Amy will always be near and dear to my heart, and recapping this program was usually a joy. By the series’ end there had been a PLETHORA of missteps but also some substantial steps towards inclusivity, eventually featuring an intersex woman, trans man and bisexual man in addition to the gay man and queer woman in the lead ensemble from the jump. Much like South of Nowhere, however, it seemed like Faking It was never fully invested to going all-in on its queer audience or its straight audience, and trying to please both rather than doubling down on one might be part of why it never found its groove and earned the ratings necessary to stay on the air. Unfortunately, Season Three had finished shooting before the team got word of its cancellation, so we never really got to close the door on Karmy.
Watch: On Amazon Prime
Leads: Moira Pfefferman (bisexual trans woman), Ali Pfefferman (pansexual genderqueer), Sarah Pfefferman (bisexual), Josh Pfefferman (straight male), Shelly Pfefferman (mostly-straight female)
Transparent follows the very Jewish, very neurotic Los Angeles-based Pfeffermans headed up by Moira, a trans woman coming out and into herself in her sixties and her ex-wife, Shelly. Their daughter Sarah is a bisexual mother-of-two who leaves her husband for her ex-girlfriend before returning to her husband and joining a triad and their child Ali is a sexually fluid millennial who dates their bisexual BFF Syd (Carrie Brownstein) and their lesbian teacher (Cherry Jones) before eventually discovering their genderqueer identity. It’s also one of a handful of shows ever to portray a trans woman dating a cis woman. The show garnered massive critical acclaim and broke ground in so many ways — only to have the ship sunk by Jeffrey Tambour, who controversially was cast as the trans woman lead and eventually booted for sexual harassment. After a year off to pick up the pieces, the show’s final season, in the form of a musical special, will debut this year. Still, it’s the longest-running show on this list and although it lacks a consistent group of lesbian/bisexual friends, it dips in and out of multiple queer social groups and has the unique honor of being a show wherein the most consistent “group” of queer friends are all in the same family.
Watch: On Amazon Prime
Kate (Stephanie Allyne) and Tig (Tig Notaro)
Lead: Tig (lesbian)
Secondary Leads: Remy (straight male), Bill (straight male), Stephanie (queer)
Tig Notaro’s little masterpiece was cancelled in what I can only perceive was a personal attack on me and my happiness. But before that dark day we got two small seasons of candor, wit, insight and biting social commentary, packaged alongside a sweet lesbian love story and an exploration of a family reeling from grief and trauma.
Watch: On Starz via Amazon Prime
Leads: Cameron (lesbian) and River (lesbian)
I didn’t believe Take My Wife was actually a real thing when I first heard about it — what was then perceived as a funny masculine-of-center lesbian couple, with episodes of traditional length, distributed by a legit channel with wide-audience-potential, exuding professional-level production value, filmed on a set that doesn’t look like a display copy of a condo? LOL!!! But wow, Take My Wife existed and was hilarious, full of heart and, especially in Season Two, chock-full of a diverse supporting cast of other queer folks, set in the bustling queer metropolis of Los Angeles. The show lost a Season Two platform after Seeso shuttered, but was mercifully picked up by iTunes and Starz.
Watch: On Facebook Watch
Leads: Isobel (bisexual) and Cam (lesbian)
Heather Hogan boldly declared that Strangers was one of the best queer shows of 2017 when its first season debuted on Facebook’s new streaming network, and Vice declared “the best queer comedy on TV right now is on Facebook.” Heather found its second season to be EVEN BETTER than the first. “The second season premiere of Strangers debuted earlier this week and it’s already as gay as it was before,” Heather wrote. “Maybe gayer! 26 minutes, two queer BFFs, four women making out (in pairs), and a serious discussion about the fact that, look, everyone is gay now.”
Watch: On Starz or Amazon Prime
Leads: Emma (queer) & Lyn (straight)
Secondary Leads: Eddy (lesbian), Mari (straight), Cruz (lesbian), Johnny (straight man)
Vida is the only show on this list with a straight storyline given as much screentime as the queer ones, but I’m including it anyway because it’s one of the gayest shows ever and it gets everything right! Y’all, Vida has it all! A writer’s room dominated by POC and women, a diverse cast, a plethora of queer characters and the incredibly rare feature of showcasing a POC-centric queer social web. We spend a lot of time in a queer bar in Los Angeles’ rapidly gentrifying Boyle Heights neighborhood, surrounded by lesbians and other queer women of all shapes, sizes and gender presentations. Another advantage to staffing your writer’s room with QPOC is that you might end up with a writer who’s also primed to be part of one of the hottest lesbian sex scenes in television history.
Watch: On Hulu
Lead: Leila (bisexual)
Secondary leads: Gabe (straight male), Deniz (lesbian), Sadie (lesbian)
Like Vida, The Bisexual sets itself apart by featuring a diverse group of lesbian friends in addition to focusing on the queer protagonist’s narrative and, like Vida, The Bisexual feels entirely authentic. “Akhavan has done something truly brilliant here,” wrote Heather Hogan in her review. “She’s created a show for an audience that understands the joke “Bette is a Shane trying to be a Dana” and then centers it on a character who’s meant to make everyone who gets that joke a little uncomfortable.” Will we ever get more of this show, which Akhavan struggled mightily to get on the air at all? I hope so, but if history is any indication… probably not. :-(
Last summer I boldly declared that Strangers was one of the best queer shows of 2017, and if you’re one of the people who didn’t believe me because it’s on Facebook Watch, the joke’s on you because: a) Facebook Watch has released two new queer shows since then, including Hayley Kiyoko/Kerry Washington’s Five Points and Riese’s new addiction SKAM Austin, and b) The second season premiere of Strangers debuted earlier this week and it’s already as gay as it was before. Maybe gayer! 26 minutes, two queer BFFs, four women making out (in pairs), and a serious discussion about the fact that, look, everyone is gay now.
Season one of Strangers saw Isobel (Zoë Chao) — a personal assistant to a famous mommy blogger with dreams of writing her own novel — exploring her newly discovered bisexuality with the support of her lesbian best friend, Cam (Meredith Hagner), and her therapist, Leisha Hailey. Actually, Leisha Hailey was only on one episode because that was the season one hook: each week a new guest landed in Isobel’s house as she rented out her spare room on Airbnb to cover the money she lost when her ex-boyfriend moved out. Isobel dated a decent guy and came very close to falling in love with a woman for the first time, but before she could get super serious with her new girlfriend she got kicked out of her house for violating the lease with her Airbnb shenanigans and decided to move across the country to New York City with Cam.
Season two couldn’t start more differently for the gay BFFS. Cam doesn’t experience any culture shock 3,000 miles away from home. She falls in with a commune of trust fund-baby artists who offer her their spare room in their big beautiful apartment: mornings dabbling in watercolors and afternoons dabbling in esoteric art school chatter. She’s as successful Shane-ing around Brooklyn as she was Shane-ing around WeHo. Things aren’t so smooth for Isobel. She’s working for a children’s birthday party company, playing the ukulele for rich, bratty kids to make ends meet, and she still can’t afford an apartment worth living in. The cool aunt she’s staying with gives off Princess Cyd vibes in the best way, but also in the most demoralizing way: she moves through NYC’s literary wanker world with as much ease as Cam moves through the Dumbo art wanker world. Suddenly, Isobel doesn’t fit in with any of the people who love her most. Even the cute girl she meets wants to make out with her but not go home with her because she’s “straight from the waist down.”
I’m very happy to tell you the show actually moved to New York City. Season two doesn’t take place on a Hollywood backlot or even in Toronto, which matters because the best shows about Making It In New York City feature New York City as a character. Also it matters because filming in New York City isn’t cheap and I really was serious when I said the production values of this show are stellar. It isn’t a web series! The acting, the directing, the editing, even the color correction are Netflix-good. (The color this season is a smart shift from the hazy days perpetual summer afternoon Beach House vibes of season one.) In fact, the hook of season two is that Isobel is going to Airbnb in a new NYC neighborhood for every episode.
The main thing that sets Strangers apart, though, is that it has a very clear queer vision and was very clearly written by queer people. Series creator and writer Mia Lidofsky is a lesbian and when Strangers launched last year she told Refinery29 (who she partnered with to make the show), “I think there’s often a stigma about labels, and there are a lot of conversations about wanting to be label-less and beyond definition, and in many ways I admire that way of thinking. But I also think that labels can help create identity and community, and there can be something very powerful and positive in being in something together, in knowing that perhaps you are not alone in your feelings and thoughts and experiences. I don’t want my gayness alone to define me, but it is a huge part of who I am and how I operate in the world.”
That’s the sensibility that she brought to every queer character on the show, and there are a lot of them. Cam is a lesbian, Mia is vocally and unapologetically bisexual, there are super queer pastors with Portland-esque congregations, and supportive queer therapists, and queer dates that suck and queer dates that land and an intimate, messy queer friendship right in the middle of it all. Yes, all the girls kissing is very good, but Cam and Isobel’s relationship was the emotional center of season one; their bond was unshakable and completely without boundaries. It’s the realest queer friendship I’ve ever seen on TV outside of The L Word and it feels like it’s going to be the main turmoil of this new season. Just one episode in and the resentment is brewing.
Also, and best of all, queer folks are in on every joke, and this season that includes queer writer and comedian X Mayo, who is probably best known for her comedy show Who Made The Potato Salad?, which always features a POC-only cast. She’s the standout in episode one as Isobel’s new co-worker/(potential?) best friend. Fingers crossed she’s playing gay on the show too!
You can watch the seven-episode first season of Strangers and the season two premiere at this very moment, or any moment that tickles your fancy. Then you can come back here and tell me how right I am about how good it is.
One of the most exciting things about TV this year was that there were whole entire episodes that explored queer themes and the queer lives of queer characters. It was more than crumbs and Very Special moments. These were entire TV episodes that paid off queer storylines that had been building, or approached lesbian and bisexual and trans stuff in ways we’ve never really seen on-screen, or expanded queer storytelling into genres where it’d been lacking, or utilized new TV platforms in queer ways. Pretty dang exciting stuff! Here are 18 of the best episodes of LGBTQ TV in 2017.
Heather Hogan: Some people — the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences, for example — might even say it was the best TV episode of the entire year, gay or not. (Me too. I also would say that.)
Heather Hogan: We spend a lot of time talking about how we’ve had enough violence against and murder of gay TV characters, but there was something almost essential about the way The Handmaid’s Tale expanded on the queer narrative of the book and forced us to witness the torture against “gender traitors.” This was the story and the show for 2017, in all its unapologetic brutality.
Kayla: “Kat finds genuine empowerment and awakening on her bike. As the instructor calls out platitudes, the words take on more meaning by scoring Jane, Sutton, and Kat confronting their individual obstacles of the episode. The affirmations resonate in particular with Kat, who realizes she wants to overcome her fears and take a leap with Adena. She cries, smiles, laughs, as she comes to terms with her own desires, and Aisha Dee is resplendent in the scene. Of course The Bold Type would take a setting used commonly for mockery and derision and turn it into a place of healing and self-realization. This show wants its characters and viewers to feel good.”
Riese: “I Love Dick” consistently pushes the boundaries of its format, melding elements of live theater, experimental video and performance art into compact televised capsules, consistently catching you off-guard by slicing obsessive interior monologues into public scenes. “A Short History of Weird Girls” is the apex of this style. It removes us from the present narrative to deliver character histories focused entirely on sexual comings-of-age from narrators we rarely hear such stories from — a self-described hypersexual awkward Jewish girl with cystic acne, a Latina butch cowgirl, a Black girl who worshipped Michael J Fox but also was in love with her mother. These are weird women. Devon’s formative interest in Dick is different than Chris’s. She doesn’t desire the man, but rather the effect he has on women, his swagger, his entitlement to female attention — and something else, too, the awkward racial and class dynamics between the landowner and the immigrants who work the land for him. Plus we get flashbacks to an actual baby butch, and tender college makeout scenes, and relateable, pure heartbreak. Like Master of None’s “Thanksgiving,” “A Short History of Weird Girls” slips the generally untold story of a queer masculine-of-center woman of color into a show that’s already kinda niche, but not nearly as niche as those sweet minutes.
Yvonne: “My all time favorite part of the show was the last episode which leads up to Elena’s quinceanera. Throughout the episode, Lydia keeps tailoring Elena’s fancy dress for her big day. Even though Elena says she loves it, Lydia doesn’t believe she’s in love with her dress. Elena admits that she doesn’t feel totally comfortable in it like she does when she wears ties, fedoras and jackets. Apparently, Lydia finally gets the final wardrobe adjustment right because when Elena sees it she’s in tears and even though I didn’t see what she’s gonna wear, I’m in tears too. When Elena walks out for her big reveal, she’s wearing a glitzy, fabulous femme white suit. I busted out crying again, my friends, because her abuela made her a gay little suit. It’s more than just Elena stepping out in this beautiful suit, it symbolizes Elena’s coming out in more ways than one — as a young lady who is comfortable with who she is and with a family who’s by her side no matter what.”
Valerie Anne: “It’s not A-frame kissing with parkas on, it’s not blurry kisses near some candles in the woods. Nope. It’s a bright room and a clear lens, an unbuttoned shirt and a belt undone. At this point Nicole stops Waverly — with effort, like dragging your feet in the sand to stop a swing — and asks if she’s sure. Waverly says yes right away. She smiles and giggles a little nervously. “The best sex is makeup sex, right?” (Making Nicole go full Paige McCullers head dip.) And listen I know this is silly but hearing adults say the word sex when they’re talking about the sex they’re about to sex is very refreshing! And of course, consent is sexy. So they exchange, “I like yous” and Nicole lifts Waverly’s chin right up. And they kiss and they kiss and then the tol redhead picks up her smol girlfriend and places her gently down on the bed in a beautiful sweeping motion that looked like something out of a ballet.”
Carmen Phillips: “It’s a beautiful tribute of recognition. A moment of that I think we’ve all felt at one time or another. We are just going about our days, and then you look up and something has shifted. You see a glimmer of something that reminds you of your most authentic self. It’s rare for queer women, or women of color. Its even more rare for folks who are butch or genderqueer or masculine-of-center. When those moments happen, we are forced to take stock.
We had one of those moments last month, when Madam Secratary introduced Kat Sandoval in her suit and tie, with her own version of a ring of keys, her just perfect pocket chain, in a photo heard throughout the queer world. We were gifted with another one of those moments last night, when Kat Sandoval came alive on screen in all of her dapper butch, nerdy, avocado farming, policy savant glory.
To be seen. Really seen. It’s a simple, but undeniably power thing.”
Rachel: “After being kind of outed by Boyle’s nosiness in the previous episode, Rosa decides to intentionally come out to her coworkers and, later, her parents. It’s established that while Rosa’s coming out to others is new, coming out to herself is not — she tells Amy she’s known she was bi since seventh grade. It’s notable how much this arc is focused on sexual orientation as a character trait rather than a plot point — the focus is never on Rosa’s relationship with this new woman (although I do want to know more about that!) but the fact that bisexuality is an important part of Rosa’s identity and always has been, something that’s refreshing to see. Parts of Rosa’s coming out are probably pretty relatable to all queer people, like Amy asking “when did you know?,” Boyle’s awkward overcompensating allyship, and the implication that Hitchcock was going to say something gross and sexualizing if given the chance. Especially in her interactions with her parents, though, Rosa’s coming out arc feels specifically and uniquely bisexual in a way I’m not sure I’ve seen on television before.”
Heather Davidson: “I’m 23 now, and the Doctor Who universe is more queer than ever. Class‘s Charlie Smith can live with his boyfriend while River Song talks about her wives and Bill Potts flirts with every other girl she sees. It’s not perfect – hell, the very exchange in which Bill first outs herself ends in a horrible fatphobic joke – but with Bill as the Doctor’s companion, the representation of humanity on a show that began when homosexuality was illegal in Britain is now a working class, lesbian woman of colour. Bill Potts is part of an explosion in LGBTQ representation in family and young adult focused media over the last few years; on the BBC alone, queer and trans youth can see themselves reflected in shows from Just a Girl to Clique. However, that representation is rarely diverse and frequently challenged – the broadcaster was forced to defend Just a Girl after accusations that it was “encouraging children to change their gender”. And LQBTQ stories everywhere, particularly for lesbian and bisexual women, are still so often made to end in tragedy. Slowly, though, more and more people are beginning to understand the importance of including good, meaningful queer representation in their work. Things are getting better.”
Heather Hogan: It’s a rare and wonderful thing to get to watch a Very Special Coming Out Episode that’s never been done before. It’s even more rare and wonderful when it makes you laugh and cry with it’s authenticity and good intentions. Nicole joining the Denim Turtles’ softball team, Jessica taking over coaching duties, Nicole’s dad’s flubbed reaction and recovery when he realized she’s gay: It was a perfect 22 minutes of TV.
Natalie: “Nervous about her new kinda-boyfriend, Cameron (Laverne Cox) does what every other woman who’s ever been nervous about dating someone new does: she calls her girlfriends. Those girlfriends are two other trans women played by actual trans women (Angelica Ross and Jen Richards) and, suddenly, a normal conversation between three friends feels monumental. Beyond the tremendous step forward this scene represented for trans women, there was also part of me that wanted to pull up a chair to that table and share high-fives with Jen Richards and Angelica Ross, because the moment felt so familiar. It was the conversation I had with my friends when I considered getting into my first interracial relationship or the first time I thought about dating a woman who had previously identified as straight. It’s a conversation that Aziz Ansari’s character, Dev, has on his first date with Sona (Pallavi Sastry) on Master of None — when does dating one too many of one type of person cross the line into fetishizing? Anyone who’s ever been othered has had some version of that conversation and it’s a reminder of our shared humanity.”
Mey: “My favorite character in the entire show is a young girl named Zadie, played by teen trans activist Jazz Jennings. First of all this kid is an adorable and precocious, recently-out trans girl who gets on stage at Pride (yeah, that’s right, this show has an entire episode that takes place at a Pride day celebration) with a cute haircut and equally cute dress and sings a song about her first day at school as the real her. Plus she’s super smart and explains chosen families to Phillip. This episode, ‘Chosen Family,’ serves as the season finale and is one of the best and most important episodes of any kids show I’ve ever seen. It’s super queer, super sweet and full of love.”
Riese: “A Connection Is Made” is when Haley really steps into her own as a character, despite being present in some iteration since the series’ start. Particularly I think of the lunch scene with Joe, when Haley’s explaining to him what she likes about the then-new internet. It seemed boring at first, but eventually she realized it was also a space to be your authentic self. Joe’s interest is its own kind of rapture, it’s penetrating and flattering all at once, but Haley’s almost unfazed by it, because she’s a teenager and she’s good at her job so of course. When the waitress Haley’s obviously crushing on drops in to geek out over Bratmobile with Haley, Joe — who is bisexual, which posits him consistently as an outsider nobody can clock at first glance — sees exactly what’s happening here. And maybe in some way, grasps in that moment the power of the internet, too. Joe later sticks up for Haley to Gordon when he wants her off Comet until her grades get better, and in his care to avoid outing her ends up rupturing his friendship with her father. Everybody here is looking for their safest space, after all, be it real or virtual or a real space building a virtual space, and Haley is one mere episode away from acquiring an alternative lifestyle haircut.
Valerie Anne: “There’s a little girl out there who watched this, who will continue to see more and more cartoons with storylines like this, who will grow up to be like Wonder Woman in the patriarch’s world. No matter how evolved our culture becomes, there will always be people who try to tell her she’s wrong for liking girls. But her foundation of self was built on Saturday mornings when she was seven years old. Built on characters like Luna, whose entire family helped her get ready for what they thought was a date with a girl. She’ll barely hear the noise. It’ll be bullets pinging off her wrist cuffs. Instead of thinking ‘I can’t have a crush on a girl,’ she’ll say, ‘I’m like Ruby and Sapphire. I’m like Luna Loud.'”
Riese: “Never had I ever seen an episode of television attempt to tell the story of a teenager realizing that they are non-binary. I’ve read and heard and seen a lot of personal narratives, but there’s something special and different about how those stories are crafted in fictional visual storytelling. Apparently, Degrassi writers decided to tell this story after visiting a local high school’s queer-straight alliance to get ideas from their experiences. (This episode also contains within its walls a catastrophic boy/girl/girl threesome that later reveals itself to be part of Esme’s rising mental breakdown, but for a few minutes of “Facts Only,” the whole situation was new enough to still feel like it could be something more and also something very queer for Frankie and Esme, and I was pretty stoked about that ’cause I love a bad girl / good girl high school matchup I’ll tell you what!)
Heather Hogan: Having the two queer women on Legends of Tomorrow and Supergirl fight together and drink together and sleep together during DC’s biggest TV event of the year is something I’m still not over. It’s not just that Alex and Sara hooked up; they had a story that helped Alex grow as a person and a lesbian! Their story was centered during a TV event in an industry that has historically been dominated by white men (and the dead women who fuel their manpain).
Riese: “This season more than any other resonated with me as a Jewish lesbian, poking and prodding at our cultural neuroses and political contradictions. Judith Light killed it this year as her overbearing Jewish mother was forced to take a messy personal inventory she’d hoped to avoid all her life, as familiar as it was painful and traumatic. As a people, we often refuse to leave well enough alone or to let each other be, which often leads to catastrophe at worst and hurt feelings at best, but this season the world turned its vigilant curious eye upon Shelly in a way that enabled actual revelation and beauty. Nowhere does that happen as much as it happens when the family hits up the Dead Sea in “They Is On The Way.” I cried through the whole damn thing.
Heather Hogan: The entire second season of One Mississippi was a marvel, but the episode where Kate finally accepted that she and Tig are more than just a good team of platonic gal pals was a payoff for the record books. It was sweet and funny and sexy and I still swoon just thinking about Kate’s little coming out/I’m in love with you speech.
Heather Hogan: Who really knows where our TV will be coming from in five years. Maybe Facebook? The company unveiled Facebook Watch this year, and already analysts are predicting it will become more popular than YouTube. One of Watch’s original series’, Strangers, was a collaborative project with Refinery29 and it was gay as all get out. In fact, it was gayer in six episodes that most shows with queer characters are in their entire lifetimes. “Getaway” saw the main character, Isobel, and her first girlfriend enjoy all the swelling scores, well-lit sex scenes, and swoony kisses that are so common for straight couples but still so very lacking in the canon of queer representation.
Last Friday night, as ABC’s Once Upon a Time was getting ready to roll out its new LGBT character — who was ushered in with such promises as “they exist in the world” and “we are planning to do it” — I made the bold decision to skip it and try Facebook’s new streaming TV service, specifically the Mia Lidofsky comedy Strangers. And boi, am I glad I did! I devoured all seven episodes in one sitting and enjoyed more legitimate queerness in that short time than most broadcast TV networks manage to eek out across all their shows in a whole year. It’s not just the quantity of queerness, though; it’s the quality. Of the writing, yes: Strangers feels so relatable. But also the quality of the series as a whole. The acting, directing, editing, heck even the color correction. It’s like a hazy days fever dream of a future where it doesn’t take seven seasons to get a vague throwaway line confirming a fictional character’s gayness.
Wanna make some gay brownies, buddy?
Okay, it does start out with a trope. Isobel (Zoë Chao) finds herself newly single and questioning her sexuality after cheating on her boyfriend with a woman. Everything after that, though, is fresh and wonderful. To make up the rent she loses in the breakup, Isobel starts taking in tenants from an Airbnb-esque website. Each episode brings a new guest that forces Isobel to relate to the world in an uncomfortable way. There’s a couple on their honeymoon, a rich white guy working on a screenplay, a therapist, a queer pastor, and Jemima Kirke who plays Jessa on Girls playing basically Jessa from Girls. Helping Isobel navigate her newly single, newly queer, newly rented-out life is her best friend Cam (Meredith Hagner), and they’re going to give you hardcore Alice and Shane vibes (but upgraded).
Which brings me to the neat surprise that Isobel’s therapist tenant is played with bright, loving queerness by Leisha Hailey. Isobel meets a girl and it’s so good. But also complicated. She meets a guy and he’s actually pretty great. But that’s complicated too. And then there’s the strangling anxiety of having a fight with her lifelong friend. Isobel talks through it all with Dr. Pieszecki. It’s actually a pretty wonderful juxtaposition, seeing The L Word‘s resident bisexual character who participated in some of the most bi-loathing conversations in that show’s bizarro bi-hostile history sitting across from a bisexual character who is also lovable but consistently and conscientiously written. From premium cable to streaming on a social media platform. What a weird time to be alive!
Tegan and Sara music video or TV show?
The main love story in Strangers will get you in your guts. It’s sweet and real and sexy and sad and hopeful and man we have all been there. (Or we all will be.) On both sides of it. I still haven’t adapted to this brave new TV world where women crawl all over each other nakedly with the lights on, just casually kissing multiple times every episode right on their mouths. The cavern is getting wider every day between what ABC and CBS and NBC are willing to be needled into showing and what streaming platforms are just doing because it’s life and guess what gay people like smooching too.
Oh lamb of God, I come. I come.
My favorite part of Strangers, though, is that it’s just really, really funny. Take My Wife, One Mississippi, One Day at a Time, and Master of None have rendered the U-Haul joke obsolete by proving there’s a way to let queer people in on the laughs without perpetually using the same stale punchlines. Strangers is part of that new breed of comedy. The queer pastor who stays with Isobel believes in post-gender Christianity and the theology she espouses over dinner with her congregation is one of the best and most hilarious things I have ever witnessed. Lidofsky makes jokes for us, but she also gently pokes fun of us — because she’s one of us.
Lidofsky told Indiewire, “I’m a gay woman, and I wanted to create a story that represented my community and my understanding of sexuality, identity, love and human connection. I wanted to create a show that opened up the dialogue around sexuality in what I hope is an honest and genuine way.”
She absolutely succeeded.