Queer romances and why representation matters
Red, White and Royal Blue dropped on Amazon this morning, and it is simply an enjoyable slice of queer fun. Nothing heavy, a happy ending, and two very cute leads. The sort of Hallmark film where a prince and first daughter could easily have stood in, but this was hella queer in a fluffy marsh mellow sort of way. While obviously it has been trailed as a gay film that it stuck to romantic comedy tropes was affirming in the sort of shrug of the shoulders sort of way, a snack to enjoy without having to think too much. Often queerness is this heavy thing hanging other films, shows, and games, an urgent thing in need of deep exploration. Yet, in the fluffy representation RWRB shows a light side to queerness that does not kill its gays or make them suffer beyond heteronormative tropes.
I freely admit that I consume a lot of queer media. Most of the games I play have a queer edge to them, and I usually have a queer narrative to the characters I chose. I enjoy a happy ending for my gays, love to see lesbians thrive, and coo over that trans girl who kicks arse. Growing up there was very little positive queer representation, and where it was allowed to peek out it was either fleeting or pain filled. Being queer was a burden, never a joy. This is why the 2020s queer subtexts matter to me, and likely many other LGTBQI+ folk, because they show the broad spectrum of our experiences, not just the crosses we are forced to bear.
Over the last week I have restarted Dragon Age: Inquisition with the full intention of playing a seriously queer female dwarf rogue. I have completed the game three times, each with a different type of queer character, and each time I find new ways to fall in love with the narrative from a different angle. I am not usually someone who enjoys rereading or rewatching media, I like new and fresh, which makes replaying games almost like a comfort blanket. Games like DA:I allow me to be queer without having to imagine the overt context, it is there in the grand narrative.
Apple’s Foundation series has its critics, though in season 2 there is a significant character who is gay and married. His story line has trauma, yet the love between him and his husband is rich and layered. You feel the connection between them, and they are given the space to love and work without others judging their bond. It is a part of their story rather than the story itself. This matters because it shows queerness as part of the tapestry rather than a thread that needs to be cut away.
Representation matters if we are to normalise queer lives. In keeping us in the dark, showing our lives to be pain filled, or simply just killing us off for the sake of it, content creators show that queerness is a lesser thing. Star Trek has made a concerted effort since Discovery launched to layer in queerness across all its shows. While some relationships are axiomatic queer couples, there is representation throughout Discovery, Strange New Worlds, and Lower Decks that is workaday and contextual to the lives the characters lead. Up until 2009 queerness was simply not a thing in Star Trek beyond allusions and allegory due to the producers not wishing to allow queer characters more than brief kisses or pining. Now, queerness is just there woven into the narrative as part of something rich and deep.
It used to be hard to find good queer representation in mainstream media. Yes, indie productions, off Broadway shows, late night science fiction, and Jerry Springer brough a glimpse of highly curated queerness, but not of that was accessible to queer kids. Queer romance was treated as after the watershed, and gay sex was strictly for adult shops. A chaste kiss on Brookside was the best we could hope for. Seeing yourself in games, films, and shows matters because it allows you to feel confident in your identity, allows you to relax into yourself, rather than seeing all that you are as something rejected and toxic.
Back in the day I remember flicking through women’s magazines looking for queer stories, trans women, lesbians, gay romances. It was the closest I came to seeing folk that I knew I would be. My personal trans awakening came due to a magazine article on a trans DJ from Devon who talked candidly about her life. I was eight, and it shaped the rest of my life because I knew that being me could have a happy ending. In the TikTok age you only have to click next for queer content to come up, if you so wish. F1nn5ter and Icky have recently become a couple, and while they are ostensively a straight couple, it is hella queer in the best possible way. For Gen Z and Gen Alpha, it is no longer just games, movies, and shows that show queer realities and romances, it is social media that brings queerness to life in all its beauty.
What we consume influences how we see the world, so to see queer romances normalised in shows like Heart Stoppers and Andor shows how far we have come from the 1990s. Being queer is no longer this burden we carry along into newsagents in some desperate hope that we will be represented on the shelves. Queer folk are no longer at the mercy of censors or editors who twist our lives to fit their idea of what we should be. Yes, all media is curated and edited, but for the queer folk in the 2020s our romances and love lives are painted in technicolour for all to see in their glory. Call me an old softy, but happy endings are lovely to see, though I will never complain about The Last of Us’s handling of its queer content.
