Victimisation in Queer media

In the media, queer pain appears imminent for visibility.

Queer stories are being told now more than ever before; each time I visit Waterstones I feel envy that there wasn’t the volume of queer YA books around when I was growing up. Now, entire tables advertise stories of LBGTQ+ teenagers. I look back wishing my fifteen-year-old self could have so easily picked up a buy-one-get-one-half-price duo detailing something other than a heterosexual relationship- instead, I tried to picture girls in the place of male love interests. 

We have great queer classics; from Brokeback Mountain’s (2005) iconic ‘I wish I knew how to quit you’ to But I’m a Cheerleader (1999). But there remains a gap in the media; so many queer stories are based on the strife of being queer in an unaccepting world. This has been described as the ‘Bury Your Gays’ trope, the unrelenting punishment of LGBTQ+ characters on screen. While these stories are important for visibility, queer people deserve stories in which they do not endure horrific suffering due to their sexuality. I crave light-hearted romantic comedies, films and TV series in which a protagonist’s queerness is simply a fact, not the plotline. In order to be visible in pop culture, why must queer characters be victims?

There are forms of media that have successfully achieved this. Crush (2022) is a young adult romcom on Disney Plus, telling the story of Paige and AJ’s unlikely development from friends to more. There are various conflicts throughout this story- university applications and the struggles of unrequited love- but these are normal high school experiences. The characters are not defined by being queer and neither are forced to affront homophobia as their leading dispute, the plotline is far bigger than that. The Umbrella Academy (2019-2024) portrays a transgender character, whose family immediately accepts him. Viktor Hargreaves just happens to be trans; the character has a bigger purpose than his queerness. 

This isn’t commonplace in film and TV though; it seems an anomaly. The recent release of the highly anticipated second season of The Last of Us (2023-current) possesses prominent differences from the video game concerning the series’ queer characters. Ellie, the protagonist, and Dina’s relationship has changed in its adaptation to the screen, now incorporating a confused sexuality trope. In the video game, their love is not questioned, their queerness is a fact accepted by both girls- neither exhibits shame. In season two of TLOU, Dina is torn between Ellie and her ex-boyfriend, declaring herself straight in the latest episode. Viewers have expressed discontentment at the sudden inclusion of more queer suffering to a relationship that was previously portrayed as unashamedly and confidently queer. This comes from a TV show that depicted multi-dimensional queer relationships in the previous season. Whether this is a continuation of historic queer treatment in the media or a sign of rising Conservatism seems ambiguous. 

Queer people experience life just like everyone else does. Conflicts and romances, successes and defeats, without their queerness always playing a central role. There is more to a person than their sexuality, and sexuality is not always met with ridicule- mainstream media needs to reflect this. Queer media needs one thing: hope.

Published 7 May 2025