This chapter focuses on the various representations of LGBT individuals and struggles in film and television, in quality and quantity. They suggest that the films and shows that represent LGB relationships are one of the positive productions. In some cases, this is true; comparing the hundreds of films and shows featuring or focusing on heterosexual relationships, it is good to have some variety by introducing LGB characters as legitimate lovers. But when the only representations of LGBT characters are focused on their sexualities or portraying them as murderous and unstable (still focused on their sexualities), is that really a full and honest depiction? Sexuality becomes the whole of the characters’ identities, so they end up playing out stereotypes and having little or no meaning beyond their sexuality. It brings to mind Carl Wittman’s claim that “we’ll be gay until everyone has forgotten that it’s an issue. Then we’ll begin to be complete.” Once we can stop acting as if sexuality is the only thing that matters in a person’s identity or life, perhaps we can start building LGBT characters as the equivalent to straight characters (“straight” as conventional and conforming as well as heterosexual) and create a more realistic and sincere version of their lives. The problems faced by LGBT individuals are not always related to their LGBT identities. They are not always unique because of their identities. Until we can portray them all as people like any others, are we really where we want to be?
Of course, homophobia and transphobia/gender discrimination are still a problem, and they should be mentioned, but there are ways of including the issues without making them define a character.Doctor Who and Torchwood’s Jack Harkness is a good example. As an omnisexual 51st-century man living in present-day England, Harkness occasionally encounters homophobia. He has relationships with both men and women, including non-humans. But when characters do bring up his sexuality, he acts like it’s no big deal, like 21st-century humans are overreacting or ridiculously preoccupied with sexuality when it shouldn’t matter. A post by gladkov on Daily Kos explains the character’s presence well: “[Torchwood] is about a character so confident in himself that he demands respect as he saves the world, never caring if his sexuality should be approved by others. In fact, in the universe of Torchwood, sexuality is not much of an issue.” Jack’s sexuality influences his character and the story--he flirts with everyone, we see his old partner with whom he seems to have had a sexual relationship, and he has a long-term relationship with a man (and with an alien, if we count his feelings for the Doctor)--but it never becomes his defining trait. Rather, his character is as complex as the heterosexual characters on Doctor Who and Torchwood, with the shows emphasizing his other traits enough that his sexuality seems far less important than his compassion, intellect, or courage. Later in his post, gladkov notes that “Most importantly, [Captain Jack’s] sexuality is one single aspect of a much more complex, flawed character.” Viewers are encouraged to concern themselves with emotional and moral struggles that could be faced by anyone--regardless of sexuality.
The show even pushes boundaries in a way that gives a slightly queer reading of the character when Jack says, “You people and your quaint little categories.” If the fluidity between desire and bodies isn’t enough from the possibility of alien sexual encounters, Jack suggests that naming desire is restrictive and perhaps prescriptive rather than accurately descriptive of a person’s possibilities. Rather than the “queer” elements that Alexander, Gibson, and Meem discuss in Ch13, film and television should implement more characters and ideas that destabilize, blur, or challenge dominant modes of thinking about sexuality.
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