Abbey Griffin ‘28

I fear that for every “Heartstopper,” there will be a “Love, Simon.”

Queer representation in the media is undeniably a good thing. That said, it is possible to do more harm than good when said queer representation is written for a straight audience.

“Love, Simon,” a movie infamous for its reliance on queer stereotypes and caricatures, is one of the best examples of queer representation gone wrong. Although the movie had a gay director –

— Greg Berlanti — and was based on a book by a bisexual author — Becky Albertini — the straight actor, Nick Robinson, inevitably ends up portraying their character only through their perspective on queerness. This disappointment taints the entire film and ruins its initial, incredibly noble purpose – to reach queer youth and let them know that they are not alone.

Something similar happens in “Modern Family” with Mitch and Cam, a gay couple. While the other couples on the show are allowed to express affection openly, Mitch and Cam are relegated to constant arguments and quarrels for the sake of the bit — as if seeing queer joy would disrupt the joke.

Queer identities are not jokes. By forcing LGBTQ+ people into this box, producers, directors, and writers limit young queer people to mockery and debasement. Even in sitcoms like “Modern Family,” it is important to allow room for the characters to grow and develop as fully-formed people.

This dependence on a punchline in queer media is not a coincidence. When straight people can laugh at queer representation, queerness is no longer as intimidating. Being queer becomes easily palatable, just another strange thing to giggle about on TV.

The harm in counting on stereotypes and jokes to ease straight people into queer representation becomes astronomical when a queer kid turns on the TV and realizes that, while their identity is in the media, they aren’t truly being represented at all.

On the other hand, I believe bad representation can serve a necessary purpose. The popular TV show “Ted Lasso” attempted to integrate a gay storyline into its most recent season, which was received warmly by its majority straight audience. The gay character, Colin Hughes, and the titular Ted Lasso end up spending most of their time educating the straight characters on the proper way to react to Colin’s coming out.

This infomercial approach quickly becomes old for most queer people, but I would argue is necessary for straight audiences. How are straight people expected to intimately understand queer experiences if they are not explained?

I do not believe every piece of queer media should be used purely to educate straight people. However, if straight directors — like Destiny Ekaragha from “Ted Lasso” — want to use their power to reach their straight audience with queer stories, it would be detrimental to discourage them. Especially in an environment with more straight directors and writers than queer ones.

Moreover, if we as a society are going to work up to including queer representation in everything we do, we will have to accept that not all of it will be to our liking. For every “Brokeback Mountain,” there will be a Marvel film where the queerness is an undertone at best. For each “But I’m a Cheerleader,” there will be a token bisexual character who never expresses interest in the same sex.

We can acknowledge the harm caused by queer representation for straight people while also realizing that it is in fact necessary to get to the next step: a world full of beautiful, rounded queer characters, growing and learning alongside us.

“Love, Simon” Hurt My Soul: Queer Representation for Straight People