Disclaimer: I do not speak for all queer people. I have talked to other queer people to get a sense of their thoughts on this issue, but I cannot speak for them.
With the recent release of the latest Marvel Cinematic Universe film, Thor: Love and Thunder (Waititi, 2022), I’ve seen a drastic increase in online debates surrounding what makes queer representation “good.” Seeing as I wrote an article last year that focuses on the opposite (5 Queer “Representations” I’m Tired of Seeing), I figured it would be interesting for me to try and write about the “good.” The issue here is that I don’t think it’s as easy to pin down or attach an agreed-upon criterion to the “good.”. I actually find it much easier to declare what not to do, as there are not a limited number of ways to be queer. For example, queerbaiting, the “kill your gays” trope, the villainization of queerness, many stereotypes, and so on, are all “bad.” But even then, as I mentioned in my previous article, there are always ways to portray otherwise “stereotypical” queerness with heart and truth.
Because there is no “right” way to be queer, queerness on the screen shouldn’t be limited to certain types of “representation.” That is why the title of my previous article did not label such representations as generally “bad,” but rather tiring.
The issue was not always with the concept of the representation in general, but with execution and frequency. Having a gay best friend character isn’t automatically damaging or “bad representation.” However, when this character is used as an accessory for the main character, it becomes annoying. Furthermore, when this becomes one of the most common portrayals of gay men in media, it similarly becomes a problem, relegating gay men to a specific subservient role.
Another important factor to consider in looking at less-than-perfect queer representation is simply the lack of representation in general. Queerness has obviously had very little visibility – and continues to. We are doing better now, but we are nowhere near where we need to be. This results in two things. Firstly, it makes the frequency of very specific “roles” for queer characters more harmful as it means queerness is often only seen as a very specific “thing.” It teaches people that queer people are a certain type of way. Secondly, it results in queer people’s intense need for many types of queer stories. Every queer person is out there looking and begging for their own perfect story because so few exist. Sadly, what is often forgotten in all of this rightful outcry is that all types of queer stories are needed and are equally as important. By “types” of queer stories, I mean varying queer roles, varying storylines for queer characters, and varying film genres and categories.
For example, when discussing genres and categories, many queer people actively search out happy queer stories, as such stories are not as common as the more depressing and/or bitter-sweet, queer stories. However, within this call for more happy queer stories, there is often a distaste for the sad stories, with many claiming they are inherently queerphobic. This is not true. Yes, some tragic queer stories are queerphobic. But it’s usually not the tragicness itself that makes them that way, but rather how they are tragic. For example, the “kill your gays” trope (very common in television especially) is queerphobic. But sadness and tragedy are a part of the queer experience. In fact, given how society treats queer people (in all parts of the world), tragedy and sadness are extremely common parts of the queer experience. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Sciamma, 2019) wouldn’t have been a better film if the leads were granted their “happily ever after.” The sadness of that film is not “problematic,” but rather poignant and real. The real issue is simply that these sadder queer films have an easier time getting made, with joyful queerness existing in the periphery.
This is what I mean when I say all queer stories are necessary. I wouldn’t trade Portrait of a Lady on Fire for the world – but the same goes for But I’m a Cheerleader (Babbit, 1999). Both of these films/representations are equally as important and necessary. Do we perhaps need more But I’m a Cheerleader-s to equal out the playing field? Yes. But the existence of sad stories is not the issue, it’s the lack of happy stories.
This same concept applies to “indie” vs mainstream, romance vs non-romance, side characters vs main characters, and so on. For example, the Thor: Love and Thunder debate is focused on how queerness exists for side characters with very little romance. I personally find those points to be fairly unproblematic. The queer characters in the films may not be the main character, but they are vital parts of the narrative, the scenes that name their queerness to add to the film’s themes of love and “feeling shitty,” and their queerness in turn informs them as characters (Gorr’s conversation with Valkyrie would impart a different feeling/understanding without the audience’s knowledge of her queerness).
It is true that Valkyrie and Korg are not the main characters, but we don’t only need queer main characters. We need queerness to exist for every type of character/role. Similarly, it is true that Korg’s romance is brief and Valkyrie does not get a romance. But queer people are not defined by their queerness and attraction. It should not be removed/separated from their identity, but it is not the only thing about us. Cis heterosexual characters do often experience romance/romantic subplots, but also often experience non-romantic narratives – while still being labeled as “straight.” For example, Steve Rogers’ narrative in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (Russo and Russo, 2014), another MCU film, does not focus on romance. There is mention of his previous romance, but no actual romance in that film (just like with Valkyrie in Thor: Love and Thunder). The character is still considered heterosexual despite the lack of a romantic plot – same for Valkyrie. Similarly, while Korg’s romance is small, I think it is the exact same length it would be if it were a heterosexual romance.
Does this mean Thor: Love and Thunder is the pinnacle of queer representation? Absolutely not. Nothing is. Does this mean we don’t need queer main characters or queer romance? Absolutely not. We most certainly need those things. But they are not the only things we need. We also need these side characters (who are not accessories like many “gay best friends”).
Furthermore, returning to the “types” of queer media, the last “type” I have yet to discuss is “indie” vs mainstream. Many queer people are rightfully hesitant when it comes to queer characters in media from large corporations, especially ones that donate to anti-queer causes (ex. Disney).
Instead, many queer people find much greater comfort in lower-budget/independent films that are much more removed from the corporate/capitalist world that actively hates us. However, because we do still live in a corporate/capitalist world, mainstream queerness is still important. Radical independent queer films are vital, but many people – especially younger queer people – do not even know that they exist. Eight-year-olds will not be watching Querelle (Fassbinder, 1982), but they will be watching the latest superhero or Pixar film. Therefore, queerness existing in these spaces feels equally as crucial. While it is complicated, as a lot of “queerness” in mainstream media either exists in the background (easily cut for different releases), is offensive, is queerbaiting, or so on – and, as previously mentioned, these films are made by corporations who happily donate to anti-queer causes – they are still important forms of representation given the society we live in and the accessibility of media.
All this does not mean that our job is somehow done once we encounter queer representation. As mentioned, one specific type or instance of representation is far from enough. We are very much allowed to both celebrate the representation we get and call for more. Because “good” queer representation is queerness in all its forms, in every role, in every type of film, and so on. “Good” queer representation is not one easily definable thing. It is side characters and main characters, love stories and platonic stories, fun stories and dramatic stories, happy stories and sad stories, “indie” stories and mainstream stories, and so on. We need it all.
