Good LGBTQ characters on TV shows can be hard to find. They’re even harder to hold on to.
When “The 100” killed off Lexa, an openly gay woman in a relationship, fans were devastated. Many fans, including young LGBTQ people, lost hope. Suicide hotline numbers and other self-help sites circulated on Tumblr and Twitter as people mourned the loss of a character who had finally represented them on TV. Someone who was strong and had a girlfriend and was happy for a moment, before it was taken away.
People were angry, too. This wasn’t the first time an LGBTQ character was killed off. This trope, known as “Bury Your Gays,” has been around for a long time. In fact, the website Autostraddle counted 157 regular or recurring lesbian and bisexual characters that had died on television [since 1973.](http://www.autostraddle.com/all-65-dead-lesbian-and-bisexual-characters-on-tv-and-how-they-died-312315/)
Some of these deaths seemingly had a purpose like Wendy Ross-Hogarth in “Jessica Jones,” who was killed while being mind-controlled by the villain. Others were meaningless like Lexa, who was shot in the stomach by a stray bullet.
For many LGBTQ people who watch these shows and see these characters die, the meaning behind the death doesn’t matter. What sticks in their heads is the fact that they don’t get to see someone like them get the happy ending they deserve.
Television can act as a means of escape for people. A moment to breathe during a stressful week; a much needed break in a sea of chaos.
We all have our shows, the ones that provide a sense of comfort even on the third or fourth rewatch. We have characters that we see so much of ourselves in, ones that say it’s OK to be them. They tell us it’s OK to walk like, talk like, live like them. Those characters are important.
When TV writers view their shows through a microscope and only think about the story, they lose the bigger picture. They ignore a long history of lost LGBTQ characters to do what they think is best for the current character. And in doing so, they alienate groups of people who already feel like outsiders.
While many shows have failed when it comes to LGBTQ representation, a few have gotten it right. Shows like “Sense8,” “Orange is the New Black” and “Carmilla” all have great multi-faceted LGBTQ characters leading their stories, each with different experiences that help show the scope of the LGBTQ experience.
Support for TV shows that have representation and treat their characters with the dignity and respect they deserve is so important. Writers and networks need to be told when they’re doing something right, as much as they need to be told when they’re doing something wrong.
LGBTQ representation and happy endings on television may seem trivial to some people. But when LGBTQ-identified people can lose their lives for being who they are in the real world, don’t you think they deserve to have peace, hope and characters who show them that there are happy endings for them too?
Update: Netflix released its fourth season of “Orange is the New Black” on June 17. **Spoiler** The show’s writers killed off fan favorite Poussey Washington, a black lesbian who had a loving relationship with her girlfriend. She died at the hands of police brutality. This adds another name to the long list of lost LGBTQ characters and characters of color.
The timing of this death could not be more awful. Fans of the show have been vocal online about the similarities between Poussey’s death and real-life instances of police brutality like the deaths of Sandra Bland and Eric Garner. They have also criticized this attempt to make a statement because it comes from a writers’ room with no black contributors.
After a racially charged attack on a gay bar in Orlando, the loss of Poussey seems even more insensitive. It makes me wonder if the writers ever considered pushing back the release date or even changing the storyline. The loss of a prominent black LGBTQ character in an obviously race-based attack has angered people, and rightfully so.
Television is an art form that doesn’t live in a glass box. It takes on its own life outside the writers. It belongs to the people once it’s released. Writers cannot keep thinking that their show is going to be the exception, that another death of a beloved LGBTQ character is justified because this is a “good” story. The change needs to start in the writers’ room and it needs to start now.
We’ve already witnessed too many losses. How many cries from the LGBTQ community is Hollywood going to ignore before it finally listens?
Here’s why it’s a bad thing: There’s an unlimited white, straight male characters on television; there’s a limited number of everyone else, more specifically, in OITNB’s case, women of color in the LGBTQ community on television. When there is a good character who brings that representation to the table, real-life women of color who belong to the LGBTQ community love that character and identify with that character because they so rarely get to see themselves portrayed well on television.
Poussey’s death was not for these people that I just mentioned. It was written for people who do not fall under the category of person of color or LGBTQ to make them understand just how senseless these deaths can be. But the people of color and LGBTQ community? They already know. They turn on the TV and they get to watch this senselessness occur every day. They can’t ignore it. They witness Orlando and Eric Garner’s death and think to themselves “That could have been me.” Everyone else can ignore it. So the writers thought they were clever by using a popular character, a black lesbian, to make a point, to show everyone else that doesn’t belong to those communities how horrific it can be. They have forgotten yet again people of color and the LGBTQ community. They don’t need that point. They need a character who doesn’t die, who gives them hope, who tells them they will get through this. And those characters keep getting taken away.
If there were a surplus of black lesbians on television, maybe I would agree that it’s similarity to real-life isn’t inherently a bad thing. But that’s not the world we live in.
