Here is a nuclear take: I don’t actually care if queer stories are told by queer people.
I should back up for a second, though, before you all lynch me.
Let’s establish some basic principles: of course I care about queer people getting to tell stories that are meaningful to them. Of course I think that it’s a problem when being openly queer is a bar to getting work as a writer or actor or director or what have you. And I absolutely think the “so brave” posturing of straight people who play queer people in movies and on TV is fucking gross, especially in this day and age.
But if a story is well told, if it feels genuine and heartfelt, if I actually believe in the queer characters I’m reading about or watching onscreen, then I’m not really motivated to dig into the personal lives of everyone involved in the project to determine whether or not they are Sufficiently Queer™️. To the best of my knowledge, Nick Offerman is a heterosexual man. He still turned in a lovely performance as a gay survivalist in The Last of Us. The fact that Offerman has a wife did not prevent me from believing that he could plausibly be in love with Murray Bartlett. Acting!
I have a good reason for this stance, one that extends beyond my belief that the quality of the art, the resonance of the art, matters more than the personal lives of the people who made it (an obvious exception being made for people who are using the power they accrue through the success of their art to abuse other people). I feel like the insistence that queer art must necessarily be made by queer people is an insistence that artists — often actors, though sometimes writers as well — bare their souls to their fan base, that simply turning in a good performance or a good piece is not enough, that the audience is entitled to know everything about their sex lives, too.
I thought about this last night after coming across an exchange between the actor Lukas Gage (aka the guy who gets his ass eaten in S1 of The White Lotus) and some rando on Twitter. The rando on Twitter is lamenting the fact that Gage — who is assumed to be straight here — keeps getting cast in gay roles. Gage (who seems delightful) chides the tweeter, noting that “you don’t know my alphabet.” When the rando responds with a request to be enlightened; Gage refuses.
In case you’re wondering, Lukas Gage has a boyfriend now.
It’s kind of funny to me that anyone would assume that Lukas Gage was necessarily straight; it’s also disturbing to me that someone would expect Gage — whose queer performances were all delightful! — to out himself simply so he could continue to play some recurring characters on TV shows. It’s bizarre (and honestly unqueer) to assume that everyone is straight unless they loudly announce otherwise; it’s also kind of gross to assume that people owe you the details of their personal lives simply because they have a four episode arc on Euphoria.
And it’s worth pointing out that this obsession with queer media only being made by out queers can take people to some pretty dark places. You may be aware of the story of Heartstopper star Kit Connor, a teenager who felt forced to come out as bi after Heartstopper received criticism for casting a “straight” man as its bi lead. Forcing a teenager to come out of the closet! What the fuck! Is this really the queer revolution we’re fighting for?
Which brings me back to this “quality of performance” thing: it’s possible that a person who turns in a really strong queer performance is just a talented straight actor. It’s also possible that they don’t know that they’re queer, and discover it through the performance — this definitely seems to happen a lot with writers, who find themselves writing queer stories again and again until it finally dawns on them that they’re drawn to this material because they themselves are queer. And, as with Gage and Connor, it’s also possible that people know they’re queer but simply don’t feel compelled to publicize that information to the world at large. Personally, I think all these options are totally fine!
And though it probably goes without saying, I also feel compelled to acknowledge that this obsession with “real queers” making queer media necessarily hits bisexuals the hardest. Barring some major statement that burns itself into everyone’s brains, the majority of folks assess a celebrity’s sexuality based on the gender of the partners they’ve been public about: I’ve heard people refer to Harley Quinn stars Lake Bell and Kaley Cuoco as straight because the two of them are married to men. But, like… do we really know they’re straight? Are we sure they aren’t bi? And honestly, is it any of our business? You don’t have to like Harley Quinn, but if you do like it, if you find it moving, what does it matter whether Lake and Kaley have actually eaten the box, you know?
I just get frustrated when “visibility” leads to more people being pushed into silos, more people being forced to declare their allegiances, rather than people just being allowed to be. Sexuality is messy, it doesn’t follow neat lines, and while, yes, again, we should be horrified when being visibly, openly queer leads to a denial of work. But that shouldn’t necessitate queer artists to publicize their private lives, to tabulate their past relationships and the genders of their partners, to let the public into their browser history so we can all assess the queerness score of their porn viewing history. All of that is just grotesque surveillance culture. And surveillance culture? It sure ain’t queer!
PS Apropos of nothing: did you know Drew Barrymore has been out as bi for like 20 years? Sure puts that interview with Aubrey Plaza into context!
I agree as a consumer of art and media, I am not entitled to anyone's private life or sexual history. I think for me at least, I dunno about anyone else, I just want there to be more queer folks getting the writing, acting, what have you jobs, period. That way, there will be more balance when queer stories are told, and it won't feel like straight people are telling our stories.
Note: this is a half-baked idea tbh so shut me down if it doesn't make sense.
I think it's maybe worth considering that insisting on queer media being made only by people whose queer identities match the media, also has the effect of putting up additional barriers to the production of that media. It's got to be easier to get a gay story told in a room full of mostly straight people than in a room full of only gay people just because most rooms making these decisions aren't full of only gay people. It's not perfect representation but it's a necessary step on the way, I think.
Context/analogy: my wife works in children's publishing, which is very white, but the push for diversity in kids' books necessarily started with getting white editors and publishers to publish books with and about other types of people.... because that's who most of the editors and publishers were at the time (and still are, though maybe a little less so).
I guess what I mean is something like this: A gatekeeper who isn't queer but is a queer ally can get a queer story told even if the gatekeepers aren't queer (yet). Does this make sense?