Stacy Snyder Becomes First Of Hopefully Many ‘Love is Blind’ Ladies To Come Out as Queer, Debut Hot Girlfriend

On the fifth season of Netflix’s Love is Blind, Stacy Snyder made it all the way to the altar with Izzy Zapata before saying no, although it was pretty clear in the lead-up that these two were not gonna make it. Stacy desired a specific lifestyle and Izzy had credit card debt and maybe also only used paper plates? I think she came from money and he didn’t? It’s difficult for me to remember specifically, but I do remember my girlfriend liked Stacy’s character and I didn’t, but then by the end I changed my mind and decided I liked Stacy, too. And now she’s come out as queer, so I like her even more!

On August 28, she posted a video of her and her girlfriend (who I believe is this girl Pame) with the caption, “Surprise!” and a rainbow emoji, accompanied by the gay song “Guess” by Charli XCX featuring Billie Eilish. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this makes her the first Love is Blind female participant to make it to the altar who has since come out as queer. (Previously, the only queer Love is Blind participant we’re aware of was Carlton Molton, a bisexual man who had a brief engagement to Diamond.)

On the post, our beloved hottie Zanab of Season Three fame commented “Girlllllll we need a catchup! Happy to see you happy,” although Stacy seems to have since turned off the comment section on the post, likely due to the excessive amount of hate and harassment she’s received online since her appearance on Love is Blind.

She’s since posted a few photos of the girlfriend, including today’s stories showing the twosome hitting up a restaurant and tennis event and a shot from a recent sexy cowgirl photo sesh in which her girlfriend appears to be admiring her from the bedside or else is checking her account on Rocket Money.  On August 2nd, you can spy them canoodling in a swimming pool. Everybody has blonde hair and is very tan and wealthy.

One can only hope this is the beginning of a new era for the franchise, which previously has been unfortunately very straight despite being very gay.

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Riese

Riese is the 41-year-old Co-Founder of Autostraddle.com as well as an award-winning writer, video-maker, LGBTQ+ Marketing consultant and aspiring cyber-performance artist who grew up in Michigan, lost her mind in New York and now lives in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared in nine books, magazines including Marie Claire and Curve, and all over the web including Nylon, Queerty, Nerve, Bitch, Emily Books and Jezebel. She had a very popular personal blog once upon a time, and then she recapped The L Word, and then she had the idea to make this place, and now here we all are! In 2016, she was nominated for a GLAAD Award for Outstanding Digital Journalism. She's Jewish and has a cute dog named Carol. Follow her on twitter and instagram.

Riese has written 3239 articles for us.

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The Filmmakers Behind ‘Seeking Mavis Beacon’ Are at the Intersection of Cheryl Dunye and Nathan Fielder

When I began watching Jazmin Jones’ new documentary Seeking Mavis Beacon, I expected a film where Jones and their collaborator Olivia McKayla Ross would set out to connect with the woman who taught us all how to type. Quickly it’s revealed that wouldn’t be possible, because Mavis Beacon isn’t real.

But Renée L’Espérance, the model who three white men created the character based on, is real. And as Jazmin and Olivia try to find her, the film gets more and more complicated in its look at representation, privacy, and the stories told through technology.

It’s a fascinating film — both personal and expansive — and it was a pleasure talking to Jazmin and Olivia about the many ideas behind the project and how it evolved over the years of filming.


Jazmin: Thank you for making the time to talk with us. Our poster goes live at 1 and our website is down. Mercury in retrograde! So Olivia is going to be here for the first five minutes and then she unfortunately has to step out and get our website live. So if you have any Olivia-specific questions start there.

Drew: Sounds good! Olivia, how did the two of you meet?

Olivia: I met Jaz and their collective BUFU (By Us, For Us) in 2019 at this Arts and Technology conference in Minneapolis. I was volunteering there, and I was essentially trying to find all the weirdos. That was when their collective was presenting on their organizing work and documentary work in terms of Pan-Black/Pan-Asian solidarity organizing through creative practice. I was really inspired by that. and they were talking about this decentralized school that was happening that summer.

Everyone was feeling pretty disillusioned about academia so there was this really amazing project of the WYFY school (With You, For You) where folks taught all kinds of classes on dumpster diving and how to take selfies and Indigenous histories of New York and walking tours and foraging and yeah everything under the sun. I signed up to teach a class on cyber feminism and it was through that class that I got to practice a lot of the theories I had been thinking about and writing about and share them with a group. Particularly ideas around data trauma and the compounded effects of these facts about you being operationalized and turned into data points. How does that impact how you see the world and how you move around the world and how different systems act on you?

This concept of a cyber doula was prototyped in that class. My family runs a birthhouse and my eldest sister is a midwife, so it’s this idea of midwives and care work that was my first idea of what it meant to take care of another person. For so long in our nation’s history midwifery was kind of this in between career. sometimes it was okay, sometimes it was illegal And this idea of care by any means necessary and the idea that yeah we’re going to take care of our people. Even now when abortion access is under threat, seeing the midwives in my community be these renegade healers and clandestine careworkers. Careworkers are still my original role model for punk pirate care. I try to bring that energy to the digital space.

Drew: How have your ideas around that evolved since you taught the class?

Olivia: I feel like it’s become more present than ever. The thing I’ve noticed most since that class and since developing these ideas in public is that now there are more and more of us. There’s a chorus. I’m thinking of digital activists like YK Hong and Cyber Collective who we’re partnering with. They’re encouraging people to reframe their relationship to surveillance and surveillance capitalism and to reconsider the amount of shit we give companies for free. It’s a recontextualizing of that entire relationship.

I feel really pleased to see how people are more and more aware, especially as stuff like AI continues to encroach on people’s creativity and cause people to lose their jobs. It’s been starting to get more and more real. A lot of things you could write off as conspiracy theories in 2019 don’t feel that way at all anymore.

But now I’m also in this weird sensation where like you know how people are always calling Octavia Butler a fortune teller? A couple of weeks ago, it was the date when the events of Parable of the Sower begin. Everyone was reflecting on the book and saying Octavia Butler predicted everything and that she saw the future. It’s been weird to see that narrative play out and the Magical Negro-ification of Octavia Butler when no she was just noticing patterns. Capitalism is a pattern and y’all are mad predictable and it’s not actually that hard to extrapolate from the data that’s around us.  What are the compromises that we make every single day? The consequences of those behaviors seen on a multiyear scale cause us to end up in the situations we’re in now.

I’ve been feeling that way about this area we’re in and this idea of like oh this was so prophetic. No, the chickens are just coming home to roost, actually. But in terms of the multiple years passing and watching the film grow and the ideas percolating in people’s minds in different ways, it feels like this film has accidentally become quite timely.

Jazmin: Yeah, it’s interesting when I first started making this film six years ago — I was sadly on my own in grant writing in dark rooms for a while before Olivia came on — it felt like there was no place for a film that consists fully of Black people speaking critically about surveillance and technology. Then as we’ve been trying to wrap this project up and put it out into the world it’s like wait actually there’s a place for this and it needs to come out immediately. We watched the Gabby Petito case and the actors strike over AI — there were all of these things happening around us surveilling other people and us being surveilled. I’m so grateful that we finished the film and that it’s coming out now. (laughs)

Drew: Yeah by the time things get talked about in the mainstream, they’re never new.

Olivia: Right. Really quickly before I leave, Jazmin, what’s your password?

[Censored back and forth about whether or not Jazmin’s password is secure enough]

Jazmin: If you want to hack our website, you have a few clues on how to do that.

Drew: I’m not very tech savvy, so I don’t think I’d have the capability even with that information.

Jazmin: Wait that’s— I say that so much and I’m like that’s just a narrative imposed upon us, babes, we are tech savvy. We’re on zoom!

Drew: Yeah!

Jazmin: We’re talking through the internet.

Drew: You know what, that’s a really good point. And like I’m also a filmmaker so I’m tech savvy when it comes to filmmaking. So I guess I just don’t know how to hack.

Jazmin: There’s some statistic about how straight white men apply for jobs where they’re under qualified whereas marginalized folks have to be over qualified. So by that metric you and I are extremely tech savvy.

Drew: I still won’t hack your website, but thank you for the confidence boost that I could.

Jazmin: (laughs)

Drew: Earlier this summer I read Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments and I was thinking about it watching the movie and then it’s referenced directly. Can you talk about the power of combining storytelling and imagined truth with more traditional archival work?

Jazmin: I was always like let’s play with the reality, but critical fabulation is a term I became familiar with through Olivia. I was like Saidiya Hartman is the truth we need to interview her and then I was like wait a second there’s a name for this sensation?

Wayward Lives was a book I was reading while we were putting this film together and I thought it was so necessary. Another book I encountered is Lote and you see the author Shola von Reinhold show up online in the film. It’s a great follow up text and a great summer read. Please read it. It’s all about the perspective of this young queer archivist who encounters this photo of a Black woman wearing angel wings in the 1930s and steals it from the archives to find out more about this woman. Each chapter of Lote has these archival interludes where the author is presenting materials to you and you never really know if they’re real or fake. There’s one story about a woman who is being mistaken for Josephine Baker and is traveling on trains and using that to circumvent things. So for me there’s value both from a place of make believe and I just need to be told other stories around Blackness, Black femininity, us, not only living but thriving. Sometimes in absence of these stories and in absence of no one recording these histories, it’s helpful to project the reality we need to see.

Actually critical fabulation was a much bigger part of this project initially. When I was pitching it as a hybrid, we were in a much different time for technology. I was making my own deepfakes and I thought it was really fun and clever, this trick of the hand to put words in Obama’s mouth and Oprah’s mouth. There were a lot of clips where we were putting words in people’s mouths to create this history of Mavis Beacon. Olivia and I were like we’re going to create a more nuanced background for Mavis Beacon because there are all these unsung women in tech whose stories were never told. It was kind of following Cheryl Dunye’s philosophy in The Watermelon Woman of making your own history.

But then I started realizing like whatever I applied to Mavis Beacon — like if it was up to me she’d be queer and a sex worker and all these things I think are interesting from my vantage point — but this character of Mavis is not existing in a vacuum. She is in direct relationship to Renée L’Espérance and, unless Renée can weigh in on what we’re doing with this character, it is not my place to project more onto her.

Also AI changed and suddenly a computer could make a very seductive deepfake that people can’t even tell is fake anymore. it went from being fun and clever to being actually terrifying to me. So that’s another reason I’m glad this film took six years to make because had it come out three years ago it would have a different politic and we might be guilty of some of the same things we’re pointing at the developers for in terms of playing with this person’s image.

Drew: I did love the moment where you’re like I’m just watching The Watermelon Woman over and over again.

Jazmin: It was such a helpful text! And while making the film I also became familiar with two other movies where I was like wait this is the queer cinema I was always referencing and didn’t know existed: Chocolate Babies and Drylongso. When I saw Drylongso specifically. I was like hold on you’ve got two Black people in Oakland driving around in a convertible pulling tarot cards and looking into questions no one wants to — like yes The Watermelon Woman but also Drylongso. And then in Chocolate Babies you have a group of friends who are having conversations around intersectionality in the way me and my peers are talking about it today. I was simultaneously elated, I felt seen, my heart grew ten times, and then also my heart broke because how come I hadn’t seen these films? Why was I only watching The Watermelon Woman on repeat when there are these other queer references waiting to be excavated?

Drew: Chocolate Babies is incredible. I’ve never seen Drylongso! I’m very excited to watch it now.

Jazmin: We’re hoping to put together a film series where you can see movies that inspired us, so maybe you’ll get an opportunity to see Drylongso if you’re in New York.

Drew: Amazing.

Can you talk about the way queerness plays into the film?

[Olivia comes back]

Jazmin: I have an agenda with this movie. In addition to looking for Mavis Beacon because I clearly care a lot about Mavis Beacon — maybe too much — it’s my first movie so I had so many dreams and ideas and theories and songs and colors and outfits and things that I had to fit in. It’s my first movie and it all had to be there. And queerness is very much that too. Like yeah reading the synopsis you might be like why does an investigative documentary about a Black woman in tech have a ballroom scene? Why is this gay? And I’m like I don’t know it just had to be. It’s just a fact of our existence. A lot of people ask about our decision to integrate spirituality or these queer community spaces into the film and it’s like that’s just what Olivia and my world looks like.

Olivia: We kept the camera rolling.

Jazmin: We kept the camera rolling. And yeah I’ve read a few Letterboxd reviews from some white guys saying it was weird choice to turn the camera on ourselves and I’m like why was that a weird choice? If you got to make a feature film, wouldn’t you want to show all your cute queer friends? That’s never a question that comes up in queer audience, in Black femme audiences, they understand referencing the Combahee River Collective, the personal is political, it’s a given. Also I think we’re trolling certain audiences that wanted to get a true crime documentary. It’s like psych we’re gay! (laughs)

Drew: And also that’s part of the history of documentary filmmaking! Documentary filmmakers being on camera and a part of their work is an approach that’s been done and been celebrated for decades.

Jazmin: Also while people can obviously see the commonalities and draw the connection between us and The Watermelon Woman, I’m also a bro in my nonbinariness. I’m a hype beast. This is directly in conversation with the John Wilsons and the Nathan Fielders too. We very frequently watch a white man spiral out and we enjoy it. So to me it’s like sure this is a queer film because you see people do death drops but also I’m doing the same thing John Wilson and Nathan Fielder would do. I’m opening a door and going through it to the furthest possible conclusion. I think it’s easy to label those things as femme or queer, but it’s just because we’re femme and queer. If those are dog whistles to our community to let them know this is for us that’s cool but also this is part of a long lineage of personal documentary.

I took a class with Caveh Zahedi who is a problematic fave and if you google him he’s—

Olivia: He’s messy.

Jazmin: Messy. My last semester in college, I had to make a personal documentary every week and the more vulnerable the film was the higher your grade. And then if you got an A you got to screen your movie at Union Docs. So yeah I was in a gauntlet of bare your soul in cinema and that is where the heart of it is. If it seems hard to talk about, you probably should talk about it. And then thank God for queers who actually do carework and actually think of the ethical ramifications, because otherwise I would be fully Nathan Fielder.

Olivia: Nowadays people are more used to media as something for you to escape inside. The question of relatability is very important to some people. Like if I can’t step perfectly into your shoes then this film is bad. But relatability shouldn’t be a barometer for how good media is or how relevant media is. The idea of walking a mile in someone’s shoes is they’re not going to fit you. That’s the point! The point in walking a mile in someone’s shoes is it’s going to be very difficult. You’re not supposed to be able to wear other people’s shoes.

Jazmin: (laughs)

Olivia: It’s not going to fit perfectly and feel like you’re wearing your own shoes. That’s not what that metaphor means. And I think we live in an age where your Netflix recommendations are super tailored to you and it’s easy to feel like if media doesn’t speak to your specific experience it’s wrong or that you should never have seen it.

Jazmin: Whereas people at the margins have always had to project ourselves onto other people’s stories.

Olivia: Yeah I’m really good at wearing a white girl’s shoes. (laughs)

Jazmin: (laughs) You’ve walked a few miles

Olivia: I’ve walked a couple miles in a little white girl’s shoes. I watched The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.

Jazmin: (laughs)

Olivia: While it wasn’t an active decision to talk about queer communities and it was just a factor of us living our lives, I do think Black trans women are kind of like the vanguard of interrogating these ideas of hypervisibility, of privacy, of maroonage, of what it means to have your image everywhere without your consent and what it means to go ghost and what it means to have to think about these ideas constantly. The idea that hypervisibility even could be a trap is something that is very deeply understood by queer and trans communities. So there is a thread of lived experience that mirrors the theory and we invite people to talk about. But it’s also quite encrypted if you don’t already have that relationship to these communities because you aren’t able to have that kind of insight so it may look like oh they just went to a ball. They may not know why whereas for anyone who is part of that community the decision to go from recorded videos of dancers going viral and people watching clips in the Uber to Legacy Russell talking about glitches and redaction work makes perfect fucking sense.

Drew: I really appreciate how the movie holds these conflicting ideas around representation. You have these moments, Jazmin, where you talk about the positive impact of Mavis Beacon while also exploring the limits of that. I think ideas of representation have evolved a lot over the last five years and hopefully we’re moving away from this easy belief in representation. But I’m wondering where you both still see the value of it — or maybe don’t.

Jazmin: We regurgitate a lot of the same information in these interviews, but there’s an original thought I’m trying to put together here. In this movie you see us hit the limitations of what representation can do. Right? I am asking the character of Mavis Beacon to hold all of these things and hopes and dreams and there’s a point in the film where we can no longer project anything else onto this character. There’s nothing more. So I think the lesson of this process is all of these emblems and icons are useful but there’s a point where they stop being useful and you have to fill in the blanks for yourself. You have to be the person you needed when you were younger.

You’re watching us confront the limitations of representation in this movie. And I’m really grappling with that. I think Olivia comes to that conclusion much sooner. She’s a little wiser in accepting the limitations of what we can put onto Renée and Mavis Beacon. But for me that’s a really painful process. I’m like no no no you were the icon I needed and we were gonna talk and we were gonna interview you! You see me struggling with this idea I was raised on that representation matters and everyone needs to tell their own story. But not everyone wants to tell their story. That is not always the solution. So yeah there’s a point in which we’ve put everything we can onto Mavis Beacon and it just breaks and we have to answer the questions for ourselves and fill in. In many ways as we’re trying to protect Renee’s privacy and have a conversation around parasocial relationships, it has forced Olivia and I to offer ourselves up in exchange.

Drew: Woah.

Jazmin: Like okay our interview subject isn’t going to talk to us so I guess we’re going to have to reveal what’s happening with our internal monologue. So as we’re discovering this awareness of just how important privacy is—

Olivia: We’re giving it up.

Jazmin: We abandon our own privacy to tie this thing up. So it’s a weird meta process.

Olivia: Speaking of queer thinkers, Susan Sontag in On Photography talks about how we live in an economy that is really comfortable giving hungry people pictures of food instead of food.

Drew: Damn.

Olivia: And I feel like for a long time whether it’s people of color, Black people, queer people — and this consent was manufactured for us — but this idea of submitting to a system that would rather give us photographs and visuals and movies about queer people living vibrant safe healthy lives rather than giving actual queer people vibrant safe healthy lives. Giving up representation in exchange for self actualization was probably one of the biggest lessons of Mavis Beacon. Like what if we did all this shit for real? How about instead of dreaming up futures we just lived?

Neema Githere, who we cite in the film, talks about afropresentism as a kind of child of the dreams the people who came before us had of afrofuturism. We are currently living in 2024. This is futuristic. Sun Ra was thinking about 2024. Octavia Butler was thinking about 2024. We are in the present the futurists were thinking of. Now we have to stop living in the future. We actually have to do it now. And I think that was something Renée has also been teaching us.


Seeking Mavis Beacon is now in theatres.

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Drew Burnett Gregory

Drew is a Brooklyn-based writer, filmmaker, and theatremaker. She is a Senior Editor at Autostraddle with a focus in film and television, sex and dating, and politics. Her writing can also be found at Bright Wall/Dark Room, Cosmopolitan UK, Refinery29, Into, them, and Knock LA. She was a 2022 Outfest Screenwriting Lab Notable Writer and a 2023 Lambda Literary Screenwriting Fellow. She is currently working on a million film and TV projects mostly about queer trans women. Find her on Twitter and Instagram.

Drew Burnett has written 578 articles for us.

AF+ Full-Size (!!) Crossword Has Arrived

We'll be running full-size (15x15) puzzles on the last Saturday of each month!...

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Can I Lie To My Mom About My Girlfriend’s Age?

I just feel like she’s going to be really judgmental!

Q:

Would it be weird to lie to my Mom about my girlfriend’s age until she gets to know her better?

I’m 25 and my girlfriend is 38. We’re super happy, no weirdness or anything, I pursued her haha. My Mom is 50 and pretty traditional. My father died when I was a teenager, before I came out, and my Mom didn’t react well to me coming out, asked if I had been molested or how I got this way. Now she accepts it, and was gracious towards my ex but not warm and excited (asking about marriage, kids, etc) how she is with my siblings’ partners.

I just feel like she’s going to be really judgmental of my girlfriend being (just a little bit!!!!!) closer to her age than my age, especially...

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A Tennis Lesbian Power Ranks Tennis Movies and Shows

A Tennis Lesbian Power Ranks Tennis Movies and Shows

There are four distinct reasons I decided to rank pretty much all the tennis television series and movies I could find this week:

  1. It’s the US Open!
  2. My ongoing descent into complete and total tennis obsession since returning to the sport competitively four months ago continues to accelerate at an alarming pace
  3. In my life, Challengers hype never died
  4. I am trying to urge people to watch Fifteen-Love on AMC+!!!!!!! Please, I need more people to talk about it with!!!

So, here we are, with my power rankings of tennis movies/shows, some of which are queer and some of which are not, because I wanted to be as exhaustive as possible. Some of these entries are very much so about tennis first and foremost, making them what I would call Tennis Movies or Tennis Shows. Others relegate tennis to a background detail or simply contain one really great tennis scene, but I thought those would be fun to include, too.

You won’t find documentaries, docuseries, or reality on this list; we’re sticking to fiction and fictionalized narratives. There are obviously a lot of good tennis documentaries out there, and if we were including reality television, I’d not only shoutout the popular Netflix series Break Point but also the early seasons of Real Housewives of New York City, which were, in essence, about tennis if you really think about it.

In the spirit of sports, I came up with a loose point system that is both objective and subjective. The films/series get points for 1. How significant tennis is to the story 2. How well the tennis scenes are done (which is split into two metrics: accuracy and innovation of cinematography) and 3. The overall quality of the film/show beyond the tennis. But you lose points for faults as determined by me, the chair umpire. For example, if you’re directed by Woody Allen, that’s a major penalty. If I missed any films or series you think should definitely be here, let me know!

Also, in the making of this project, I learned I’m simply obsessed with taking screenshots of characters’ serves. I’m obsessive about serving in general in tennis, so this tracks, but below you’ll find a lot of shots of characters mid-serve. I was particularly interested in how the camera captured these serving moments.


24. Match Point (2005)

a ball hovers over the tennis net

Due to its director, we won’t linger here long. But unfortunately I do think about the opening of this film often when I hit a shot straight into the tape of the net. Annie Hall also has a tennis scene, but I’m not including more than one Allen film here. Match Point is just undeniably part of the tennis canon, but you won’t catch me celebrating it.

23. The L Word (2004-2009)

Dana Fairbanks playing tennis

You know what, in honor of Dana Fairbanks, I’m counting it. Tennis storylines on The L Word were always a little fleeting and inconsequential outside of Dana’s initial struggle with the decision to come out because she thought it would hurt her career. We didn’t really get to see a lot of tennis playing — just a few tennis outfits and Dana’s tennis arms.

22. Apples Never Fall (2024)

a man serving in tennis in Apples Never Fall

I wanted tennis to be a bigger part of this narrative…it’s certainly there. On the surface, you might be tempted to call it a Tennis Show. It’s about a tennis family, including a mother and father who run a prestigious tennis academy in South Florida. None of his kids went pro, seemingly a point of contention for the often verbally and emotionally abusive father. But I feel like the series leaves a lot to be desired in terms of actually weaving the stakes and drama of the game of tennis and competitive sport into its narrative about a fractured family and marriage. On top of that, the thrills in this thriller are kind of cheap and rote. There’s a lesbian daughter, but I wish it had been more queer, too!

21. A Room With a View (1985)

a tennis serve in A Room With a View

It’s just one scene in the Edwardian romance, but points for the very old-school style of tennis which almost looks more like badminton, and points for juicy narrative tension playing out on the tennis lawn. Cecil has no idea that George and Lucy are in sync with more than just their net play.

20. The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)

Richie Tenenbaum

There’s just the one tennis scene, but what a scene! I do feel like Richie’s background as a tennis prodigy informs the character significantly, even if it’s not always discussed outright. Often, we’ll see movies and shows about tennis prodigies whose careers are upended by injury, and it’s oddly refreshing to see a career instead upended by a menty b. Plus, it’s a truly funny scene.

19. The Witches of Eastwick (1987)

Jack Nicholson and Susan Sarandon in Witches of Eastwick

Sure, it’s not really a film about tennis, but it is one of the most absurd tennis scenes from a movie, so I had to include the time the Devil played by Jack Nicholson played a magical game of tennis with Michelle Pfeiffer, Susan Sarandon, and Cher.

18. Clueless (1995)

the gym coach in Clueless

“Would you look at that girl? She is so adorably clueless.” Yes, while not a Tennis Movie, the initial titular line of Clueless is uttered on the tennis court during a gym class tennis lesson, and that’s enough to convince me it belongs on this list. Plus, this is the scene where we also get the line “My plastic surgeon doesn’t want me doing any activity where balls fly at my nose.” Do I even need to tell you the tennis moms I often play with quote or riff on that line all the time? Meanwhile, the number of times I’ve wanted to say “EARTH TO CHER, COME IN CHER” when one of the women on my team isn’t paying attention on the court…well, it’s certainly not zero.

17. Do Revenge (2022)

girls on the tennis court in Do Revenge

I wouldn’t go so far as to call Do Revenge an actual Tennis Movie, but Eleanor first targets Drea for her evil masterplan at summer tennis camp, and I laugh at the “I was a Billie Jean King in a seas of Maria Sharapovas” line every time, and Sophie Turner gives an iconic brief performance as the girl having a meltdown at tennis camp when Drea gets her kicked out. I can verify that summer tennis camps are full of mean girls.

16. Blow-Up (1966)

a mime serving a tennis ball

There are about a dozen different topics I’d like to write about in response to my first viewing of Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow-Up, and none of them are tennis, but the mimed tennis scene at the film’s end is so captivating and strange that I had to include it. It’s not “real” tennis being played, but most of the tennis played in all of these films is a facsimile of sorts, and so perhaps mimes playing imagined tennis is just as real as any of the rest of the scenes here, and hey this is a film all about the thin line between reality and unreality after all. Also, does it bother me that this mime is blatantly foot faulting on her serve even though that is so beyond the point of the scene? Yes, yes it does.

15. The Squid and the Whale (2005)

Jeff Daniels serving in tennis in Squid and the Whale

I’m a latecomer to this beloved Baumbach film and didn’t previously know tennis played a role in it, and while it may seem subtle on the surface, I actually think tennis is a pretty big part of the narrative here. Being a “tennis family” is such a specific thing, and straight away in the opening we get to see all the family dynamics play out in the tight space of a doubles match. This film is holding it down for the amateur/casual tennis players.

14. Strangers on a Train (1951)

Guy serving in tennis in Strangers on a Train

Of all the films on this list that aren’t exactly Tennis Movies per se, Strangers on a Train has my favorite tennis sequences. Tennis is talked about more than it’s played in the iconic thriller, but we get a couple tennis scenes with truly memorable shots, starting with the first time we step onto the court in the film, a little under halfway through. So many of the Tennis Movies on this list feature shots of the spectators’ heads following the ball back and forth, but Strangers on a Train has the most memorable one of all time, all because of Bruno’s head remaining still while the others move around him. When we see Guy play tennis later in the film, there’s a similar sense of discontent and tension established through subtle movement. Shots alternate between suffocating and pulled back. Tennis as device to build suspense!

13. Break Point (2014)

Jeremy Sisto serving in tennis in Break Point

Not to be confused with the Netflix docuseries of the same name, this 2014 dramedy about two estranged brothers reuniting to keep one brother’s dwindling tennis career going is actually kind of sweet? Jeremy Sisto plays the asshole brother Jimmy whose doubles partners keep dropping him for being a piece of work, and David Walton plays Darren, a substitute teacher still reeling from a breakup and suddenly finding himself in a father-like role to a young boy. I think the film sometimes struggles to balance its goofy humor with its more earnest tones, but when it hits the sweetspot, it’s pretty good! The jokes definitely don’t always land and some are mishits entirely, but I was surprised by this one. And Jimmy’s angry serving sesh is deeply relatable.

12. 7 Days in Hell (2015)

Andy Samberg serving in 7 Days in Hell

This is a film for fans of tennis and Documentary Now!, which means it was a film for me. It’s structured like a sports mockumentary parodying the Isner–Mahut Wimbledon match in 2010 which was played over three days and lasted a total of 11 hours, the final set running for a full eight hours and 11 minutes. This spoof features a lot of actual tennis stars, including Serena Williams, who has good comedic timing! There are tennis jokes, but it also plays generally with sports documentary tropes and devices in very funny ways. Ironically, I wish it had been like ten minutes shorter.

11. The Prince of Tennis (2001-2005) and The Prince of Tennis ~ Match! Tennis Juniors (2019)

The Prince of Tennis

I only had a chance to catch the first few episodes of this anime based on a manga series about a young boy on a competitive club tennis team at an elite academy, but it was cute, and the tennis animations were over-the-top in an amusing way. I can easily see myself diving into this more deeply on a weekend when my tennis plans are rained out. I also watched some of the live-action Netflix spin-off drama set in the same universe, about a boy trying to get out of the shadow of his tennis star father. The exaggerated movements and sound effects of the tennis scenes were fun.

10. All American: Homecoming (2022-2024)

One of the central storylines driving sports drama (and All American spinoff) All American: Homecoming is protagonist Simone’s pursuit of tennis stardom as she transfers to an HBCU to play at the college level in hopes of going pro. The show is steeped in stories about the hardships and highs of being a student athlete. The tennis scenes are solid, though I wish there were more. But I know with television, there’s often less room for long sportsplay scenes when there’s drama to tend to. Coco Gauff even guest starred as herself!

9. Wimbledon (2004)

Kirsten Dunst in Wimbledon

Is this my FAVORITE Tennis Movie? No! But it is my favorite opening to a Tennis Movie. The feeling I get from the sound of a racquet meeting a tennis ball is the closest I’ve ever come to understanding the appeal of ASMR. And the illustrated sequence that opens Wimbledon set to the beat of a steady tennis rally makes for a bouncy introduction to this light and breezy tennis romance. I love movies about the pressures to choose between one’s career and love, but this movie is too focused on the man when Kirsten Dunst’s Lizzie is clearly the more interesting character (when the script actually allows her to take up space).

8. Borg vs. McEnroe (2017)

Borg vs McEnroe

Danish filmmaker Janus Metz Pedersen brings the perfect touch to this fictionalized rendering of one of tennis’ great rivalries and tackles a lot of compelling themes in the process. There’s a ton of matchplay in the film, and it’s all good. This film and Final Set both have stylish visual methods of displaying scores throughout match scenes that I really liked. But beyond the actual tennis scenes, I’m so interested in the narratives here about masculinity and professional sports. Through flashbacks, we begin to understand Borg and McEnroe as two men who had explosive tempers as young boys. Borg’s father drilled it out of him, disciplining him into squashing that and becoming extremely and obsessively controlled — but ultimately repressed —when it comes to his emotions, while McEnroe’s temper was allowed to run amok and came to define him as a player. Neither men are demonized for nor absolved of these ultimately unhealthy relationships to their emotions. I liked that the focus was way more on Borg than McEnroe, as Borg in real life was rather inscrutable in a lot of ways, but the film’s version of Borg is fascinating. Stellan Skarsgård gives a standout performance as Borg’s father. It’s definitely one of the best sports rivalry films I’ve seen, particularly because it engages with the idea that rivalries are narratives forced on players more so than them choosing it.

7. Battle of the Sexes (2017)

Emma Stone in Battle of the Sexes

Based on the tennis career of Billie Jean King, Battle of the Sexes is very much a Tennis Movie, but as I’ve written about before, it’s a little too soft around the edges in its portrayal of both the game and the fight for women’s equality in the sport. I think it’s, at times, a very lovely film! And the performances are solid. And for a traditional sports movie, it’s extremely significant that it’s so queer, thankfully not erasing Billie Jean King’s sexuality. But I wish there were stronger actual tennis scenes in it! And I wish it was a little more true-to-life about Billie and Marilyn’s relationship, even if that’s a harder story to tell than the sweet lesbian romance we get. Tennis really was at the forefront of the fight for equal pay in sports, and this movie captures an important moment of history in that regard quite well.

6. Pat and Mike (1952)

katherine hepburn in Pat and Mike

George Cukor’s sporty rom-com starring Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy deals with similar themes as the next film on this list. It’s pretty easy to read queerness into the film’s subtext, as Hepburn plays a woman who feels at odds with the world around her and who quite literally falls apart under the gaze of a man. She’s adept at sports, mainly golf and tennis, and Cukor spends so much time on the actual playing of both sports and shoots them in interesting ways that combine realism with a bit of flair to immersive effect. At one point, Hepburn’s Pat experiences anxiety mid-tennis match, which manifests as a series of heightened hallucinations: The net gets impossibly taller, her racket smaller, her opponent’s larger. It’s a nightmare sequence that feels very real!

5. Hard, Fast and Beautiful (1951)

Hard, Fast and Beautiful

Ida Lupino’s Tennis Movie made me sad! And I really liked it! I do think I have a longer essay in me about the shared conversation between Pat and Mike and this film, societal anxiety about women in professional sports, and the links between tennis and feminism, but that’s for another time! Hard, Fast and Beautiful is an underrated, hard-to-find gem of a Tennis Movie that presents its protagonist with the choice between tennis and love. But here, both choices are limiting, which speaks to the strictly enforced expectations of women at the time. Our protagonist not only is unsure of how to get what she wants but unsure of what she wants in the first place, heavily influenced by her tennis momager of a mother (a fascinating character who I’d love to consider in conversation with the fictionalized rendering of Richard Williams in King Richard) and the man she falls in love with. There are really cool low-angle shots of her while playing, and the tennis scenes in general are interesting to watch.

4. King Richard (2021)

Venus Williams serving in King Richard

I’m a girl born in the 90s who was put in tennis lessons alongside her sister when we were young, and we have a dad who is obsessed with us who used to be a pretty damn good tennis player himself. Yeah, King Richard is pretty much a film engineered to make me cry. And cry I did! I’ve known who the Williams sisters are since the first time I held my first tennis racket as a little girl, and even though it focuses on their father, the film does such a solid job of capturing the thrills of the beginning of their careers and how they changed the game on multiple levels. It’s a good if by-the-numbers sports film with great performances. AND it’s highly accurate in its portrayal of the game and the world around it, which makes sense given Serena and Venus were both producers. Justice for open stance forehands!

3. Final Set (2020)

Thomas Edison serving in Final Set

This French film by far has the most realistic matchplay of any Tennis Movie I’ve seen. In its final act, it’s almost easy to forget you aren’t watching a French broadcast of the French Open. We follow fictional professional tennis player Thomas Edison (why that name though…), who after crashing and burning at the French Open semi-finals at the age of 17 is now in his mid-thirties and slogging through tour. It’s about the physical toll tennis takes on the body, especially as one ages, but it’s also about ageism as well as the tumultuous and often brief nature of a professional tennis career. I like that it eschews the feel-good underdog story for something realer and more complex. Leave it to the French to make a Tennis Movie this beautiful and brutal. The colors are stunning. The tennis looks so real. But there’s also unexpected lite body horror, Thomas literally putting his blood into the sport as he fights his way through qualifiers at Roland Garros. His wife, a former tennis prodigy in her own right, took time off to have their child, and I wish we’d stayed on the gender inequity of it all a bit longer or that her character had been fleshed out a bit more. But I like the relationship storytelling we do get, particularly when his wife admits she’s jealous. That moment could easily feel overly simplistic or trite, but Final Set earns it. Pursuing tennis professionally requires some selfishness, and the film shows this well. Thomas isn’t your typical sports movie underdog and, at times, is quite unlikeable. But he doesn’t want to be liked; he wants to win.

2. Fifteen-Love (2024)

Justine serving in Fifteen-Love

Ultimately the real reason I wrote this list in the first place, Fifteen-Love is my latest obsession — and not just because of the tennis but because it’s a really fucking good television show. Fifteen-Love is a disturbingly evocative series about an abusive coach/athlete relationship and a look at the fucked-up power dynamics and harm in elite tennis training programs. The leading actress Ella Lily Hyland gives one of the best debut performances I’ve seen in a long time and brings the complex character of Justine Pearce to life. The tennis scenes are very good! Hyland has an athletic background, and it shows. The first three episodes are available to stream on AMC+, and this is not an ad! This is a genuine endorsement of what I think is a very underrated thriller series right now.

1. Challengers (2024)

Tashi Duncan serving in Challengers

“You don’t know what tennis is — it’s a relationship.” I imagine it will be a long time before Challengers is unseated as the number one tennis film in my heart. I mean how many other films are going to place you in the point of view of the tennis ball? The film inspired me to train harder on my backhand. The tennis in it doesn’t look 100% true to life, but I do think it adeptly captures the spirit, energy, and yes, erotics of the game. The incredible score fits snugly with the pop of a racquet making contact with a ball and the squeak of tennis shoes sliding across hard court. And I love that it’s a film about two men in love with the same woman, but the only real love in her life is tennis, a love taken from her too soon. It’s sort of a complete rejection of the more common trope we see in these Tennis Movies where a woman has to choose between her personal life and professional tennis. Tashi Duncan finds a way to make her personal life and tennis toxically enmeshed.

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Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya

Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya is the managing editor of Autostraddle and a lesbian writer of essays, short stories, and pop culture criticism living in Orlando. She is the assistant managing editor of TriQuarterly, and her short stories appear or are forthcoming in McSweeney's Quarterly Concern, Joyland, Catapult, The Offing, and more. Some of her pop culture writing can be found at The A.V. Club, Vulture, The Cut, and others. You can follow her on Twitter or Instagram and learn more about her work on her website.

Kayla has written 886 articles for us.

Invisible Histories Won’t Let You Leave the Queer South Behind

all archival images courtesy of Invisible Histories

Although it has become a lot easier to access the stories of our LGBTQ ancestors over the last 20 years, there is still so much missing from how we narrate our queer past in the U.S. Many of our community traditions, like our annual Pride celebrations, harken back to sanitized and widely-circulated moments in our history that happened in what people assume are the most “progressive” parts of this country (namely, New York City and Los Angeles). Naturally, pointing this fact out to people is always a daunting task, especially when it comes to discussing the queer history of the South. Many will incorrectly assert that, by nature, these more “elite” geographical locations have been and are much more radical spaces of possibility than the South. Or they will, even more egregiously, write the whole region off as conservative, backwards, unfriendly to difference, and utterly unsalvageable. The framing of the North as forward-thinking and the South as a land of systemic horrors did not emerge without some basis in historical truth, of course. But it also fails to paint an accurate picture of both regions and their impact on both queer history and the history of all marginalized people in the U.S.

The South and its people — whether you want to hear it or not — have been at least as equally important to the struggle against systemic oppression, if not more than, the North and the West. Collectively, the states that make up the South are home to more Black people, more people of color, and more LGBTQ people than any other region of this country. It’s true that the region is also still plagued by the leadership of white supremacists who have been able to keep themselves in power through the mechanisms of racial capitalism and exploitation. But how is that any different from the rest of this country?

By metrics alone, without even mentioning the specific evidence that backs this up, the radical possibilities and achievements imagined in and born in the South have been pushing the other regions of this country forward for, at minimum, the last 180 years. Our issue has never been a lack of organizing and putting that organizing into action, but rather, a combination of more explicitly fascist governance, exploitative resource extraction, abandonment by the Federal government, and a nation of people willing and ready to act paternalistically about the South. Or write us off entirely. As a result, the many accomplishments of marginalized people of the South are used as cautionary tales to ramp up sympathies about the people who do live here. Or those accomplishments go completely unnoticed. When we’re trying to piece together a more thorough understanding of LGBTQ life in the U.S., this happens excessively. Queer and trans people in the South are rarely seen or discussed as courageous, powerful, or even historically relevant. Instead, we’re assigned the status of long-suffering, agency-less fools who should move away from these places in search of a better life.

As Josh Burford, co-founder and co-Executive Director of Invisible Histories Project, puts it, the South “is the story that people tell to themselves as a way of talking about how ‘good’ they are. We exist as the counterpoint to remind them of how ‘well’ they’re doing.”

“The American South is the most queer place, but we’re also the most racially diverse,” Burford continues. “And so it’s just straight up old school white supremacy to dismiss the South. So, the wholesale dismissal of the American South…it’s lazy, it’s racist, it’s classist, and people only want to live in the South because it’s apparently cheaper to live here than to live in New York.”.

Invisible Histories was created as a direct response to this unwillingness of others to see the full breadth of experiences lived by people in the South, combined with a desire to show LGBTQ people in the South they are part of a long lineage of queer and trans organizing in the South.

Image from at 1974 issue of The Barb, Atlanta's first LGBTQ newspaper ever.

1974 issue of The Barb, Atlanta’s first LGBTQ newspaper ever.

Invisible Histories is dedicated to archiving, preserving, and telling the stories of LGBTQ people in the Deep South. They practice regionally-specific archiving that collects, stores, and creates access to materials related to LGBTQ life and resistance in the South that is dependent on not only existing archival collections in academic and library spaces but also on the people and their organizations who actually lived that history.

On their website, they write that they believe “archiving is resistance to oppression and history leads to liberation.” Their mission — beyond collecting these materials — is to make them highly accessible to all LGBTQ people in the South. Their website explains further, “We strive to break barriers between organizations and their local communities to ensure that preservation and research exist in a co-productive and relationship centered way. […] We focus on providing education around the Queer South to those within and outside the region through speaking, exhibiting, online materials, and publications.”

Burford, who was born and raised in Alabama, tells me the seed was planted for Invisible Histories when he started teaching at the University of Alabama in 2004. He received a graduate degree in American Studies and began teaching Queer History at UA soon after his degree was conferred. Like many historians teaching queer history at the time, the materials for his classes weren’t focused on the queer history of Alabama or any of the other parts of the South, much to the dismay of many of his students.

“I got the same feedback at the end of every year, which was that my students were enjoying the class, but they wanted to know more about local history,” he says. “And I hadn’t a clue. At the time I was in graduate school, there were maybe 10 books about the queer South, and a lot of them were oral histories, which are fine, but missing that evidence-based stuff.” This feedback from his students prompted Burford to enroll in another graduate program in Library and Information Sciences so that he could begin doing archival work.

During his time in the program, Burford built two LGBTQ archives at UA, then took a position at the University of North Carolina–Charlotte and continued his archival work with the city of Charlotte and with UNC. It was shortly after he began working in Charlotte that his friend Maigen Sullivan, co-founder of Invisible Histories, called him back to Alabama. “She was working at the University of Alabama Birmingham and brought me down to do a talk on the queer South,” Burford says. “And we were just chatting, and she said, ‘Do you think that we could do what you do in Charlotte, but for the state of Alabama?’ And I said, ‘Well, we could, but we’re going to have to come up with a way to do it.”

In 2016, Burford and Sullivan started doing this queer archival work for the state of Alabama in earnest, and in 2017, Invisible Histories was officially granted non-profit status so they could continue doing their work. By 2018, Burford and Sullivan were able to pick up their first collection from Alabama and, as of this year, they’re up to over 150 collections, most of which have been entered into the databases on their website and some of which are currently digitized for people to access easily.

Burford says that if everything goes according to plan, they’ll have 200 collections in their database by the end of 2024, which is a huge feat for a project that’s less than a decade old. “I knew that no one had been collecting queer history really in Alabama in any methodical way,” Burford says. “And so, I knew there were collections. I just had no idea how many there were.”

Image from June 1992 issue of WimminSpace News out of Jackson, Mississippi

June 1992 issue of WimminSpace News out of Jackson, Mississippi

In 2019, Invisible Histories got a grant from the Mellon Foundation that required they begin collecting in more places. They added Mississippi and Georgia and recently expanded into the Florida panhandle. “It’s just been a wild ride to be able to not just find this many collections, but also the scope of these collections and the dates,” Burford says. “Our oldest thing is from 1920.”

As Invisible Histories has grown, their mission and their focus on community-responsive archival work has grown with it. “I’ll say this as a person who’s been archiving a long time, but archives are designed, I think, traditionally, for materials, not for people,” Burford says. So, Burford and Sullivan made it part of their mission early into beginning Invisible Histories to make sure the work they do is directly connected to the communities they work in.

Many people tend to think of archives as being connected to universities, academic libraries, or big governmental institutions, and they usually don’t realize there are archives in public libraries or in community-based historical societies. As Burford explains it, people sometimes have a “psychological barrier” to accessing spaces like archives, which seem imposing and inaccessible. And in addition to that, they usually don’t know where to start when they’re interested in a specific topic or issue.

“The way we have organized archives, again, are organized for archivists, not necessarily for community people, which is why when you’re doing queer and trans history, it’s so hard to find stuff because you just don’t know who processed that collection,” Burford explains.

In response to that, Burford, Sullivan, and the rest of the people they work with have dubbed Invisible Histories a “people’s collection.” “It’s so important for us as Invisible Histories to constantly remind people that this is a people’s collection,” Burford says. “We might be housing them at a university, but we’re doing that with the knowledge that our responsibility is to figure out how to get you in there, get you through the door, demystify the process, and then at the same time, try to push archives to do things differently.”

He explains further that a lot of the historical society archives and other institutional archives are built around white supremacy. They’re an attempt to “protect” that history from being “overrun” by other people’s stories, which means they’re not built for someone without specific archival knowledge and education to use. However, that’s never been the way that queer people practice archiving.

Burford explains, “One of [Sullivan’s] favorite things that we find is a folder that just says, ‘history’ or ‘articles’ on it where people were just clipping out everything they could find with the word ‘gay,’ ‘lesbian,’ ‘bi,’ or “trans” and then putting it aside. I think that so many older people were collecting to give themselves a sense of community and to save it for someone else. So there is an archiving tradition built into the experience of Southern queerness, which you don’t see in a lot of places that have turned over their archival collection exclusively to institutions.”

“We’re doing the damn work down here. It matters. I don’t know why people can’t see this.”

This model has helped inform all of the work Invisible Histories has done and is currently doing. Since they’re mostly working in rural areas that have very little funding for their own archives, they aim to help the people in these places create them through partnerships with public archives and universities. “We want to work with existing archives, train them about how to work with community people, train the community how to work with them, and then build in that safety through our partnerships so that the material is always available to the public. It’s a different way of doing archiving, but not different for queer people,” Burford says.

Much of how queer people have  organized, performed actions, began organizations and social clubs, and gotten together has been by passing information to one another through secret channels. Similarly, as Burford points out, much of how we’ve gotten the stories of queer action, resistance, and life is through oral storytelling and people casually keeping these stories to pass onto others who might find them useful. Our process for sustaining our lives throughout history as queer and trans people has been through these actions. We know something or don’t know something, and we find people to talk to about it. This is how Invisible Histories has been able to build their collections outside of connecting with institutional archives. Burford tells me that he and the rest of the Invisible Histories team are often able to build collections simply by connecting with people in the communities where they work.

“There’s no such thing as one collection,” Burford says. “Every collection generates new collections each time. Conversations go out into the wild without us. People might be having brunch or be at a party or at a softball game, and they say, ‘Hey, have you talked to Invisible Histories? Because you should really do a blog on X, Y, Z.’ And then, things start coming in. I’ve also been surprised at how clear the line is between contact and collection that comes through social media. We’ve had several instances where we have just put on social media, ‘Hey, came across this reference. Does anyone know what this is? Where could we find it?’”

Through these connections, Burford and the team have been able to uncover a myriad of formerly hidden parts of queer and trans history. He’s received an entire collection of historical materials from Atlanta through a trans man in his eighties who actually lived through the stories the materials tell. They’ve uncovered materials from a queer Mardi Gras crew out of Pensacola, Florida named the Krewe of Zeus just through putting word out that they found a reference to the krewe’s existence at an archive in the Florida panhandle. From looking through a LGBTQ fundraiser book from the 1970s Out of the Closets, Burford learned of a gay publication called Gay Seed out of Huntsville, Alabama, and he was able to collect some of the first issues through another person who found them in a local thrift store. That connection also brought him the opportunity to speak with the original publisher of the magazine. Similarly, he explains, all of the material on the Emma Jones Society of Pensacola that is currently housed at the University of West Florida was found in a box labeled “Emma Jones” at a thrift store in Panama City, Florida.

Image from September 1976 issue of Lesbian Front out of Water Valley and Jackson, Mississippi

September 1976 issue of Lesbian Front out of Water Valley and Jackson, Mississippi

Burford tells me that after he appeared on a podcast, a person from Montgomery, Alabama sent Invisible Histories the photos and diary of his gay veteran uncle who was stationed in France during World War II. “That’s that Southern grassroots feeling of ‘Who do you know that I should know?’ and ‘How do we connect those people?’ And we use that to help create our collections,” Burford says.

While it might seem from the outside that doing this kind of archival work can’t and won’t do much in helping marginalized people achieve liberation, that couldn’t be further from the truth. We’ve seen throughout history — and we’re seeing it now — how fascist and authoritarian forces attempt to eradicate communities through the destruction of those communities’ educational, research, and archival centers. The destruction of historical documents isn’t just an attempt to punish communities. Rather, it is an attempt to make sure those communities are pushed further to the margins and that people who might benefit or learn from those materials have no access to them. Not only are the experiences of these communities erased, but as a result, people cannot learn from the successes, failures, joys, sadnesses, and praxis of the people who came before them. “It’s too difficult to dig out from under your own oppression if you feel alone and disconnected and have no models for how you might liberate yourself,” Burford explains.

The majority of queer history up until the 1990s was actually quite radical. Queer and trans people weren’t just fighting for “acceptance” and equal rights under the law. Resistance to the racist, heteropatriarchal culture of the U.S. as a whole was a large part of our story. Queer and trans activists were, of course, fighting for their rights, but they were also protesting the American war in Vietnam, organizing on the frontlines of the Civil Rights Movement, the workers’ rights movement, and the immigrant’s rights movement. They were well aware that their oppression was directly linked to the oppression of all marginalized people in the U.S. and abroad. They didn’t see their struggles as unique in the course of human history. They saw their systemic oppression as part of the fabric of all marginalized people’s oppression. As time went on and the most powerful people in our community became more infatuated with the notion of queer assimilation into these systems, these stories became whitewashed or got thrown to the wayside. And more distinctly, the history of the queer South became nothing more than a ghost story.

“For us, archiving is resistance because we are resisting the notion that people don’t think we’re here in the South,” Burford says. “We’re resisting the notion that we don’t exist. We’re also resisting the notion that we were never a part of a larger community and this idea that queer Southerners were/are behind. That is a calculated fascist decision to isolate us in this place. Also, quite frankly, looking at our history should, when it’s done correctly, show you the connectivity, that connective tissue between struggles. And when you’re learning your history, you can also start to understand shared oppression. So, if it’s this bad for me and I’m a white able-bodied person, what must it be like for a queer person of color or a trans person? And so there’s that learning that happens that creates more community. It creates more bonding opportunities and more opportunities to learn and to dismantle.”

And that’s what Invisible Histories is here for. The larger LGBTQ community still has so much to learn about our history and, more specifically, the radical potential granted to us through the actions of our elders and ancestors. “We’re doing this because we have this beautiful, rich history of resistance, political organizing, and community development,” Burford says. “Just thinking, alone, about the work that must have gone into creating grassroots organizations for HIV outreach in the 1980s with no funding. Nobody gave a shit, and we were dying. That’s the kind of stuff that can inspire us now. When we are literally living in a fascist state, and not just Southern states, but a fascist country that wants to destroy us. This history can provide those lessons. It can provide us with opportunities to learn, to emulate, or to do the exact opposite that somebody did. We’re not advocating for a political person or a political group. What we’re advocating for is the liberation of our community.”

UpFront Magazine out of Pensacola, Florida, December 1972 issue

December 1972 issue of UpFront Magazine out of Pensacola, Florida

With this in mind, Burford and the rest of the Invisible Histories team is keeping in line with the traditions of our elders and ancestors and building their space to be one that is easy for queer and trans people to access, completely free of the financial or psychological barriers that might prevent them from accessing these materials in other places. They want Invisible Histories to be a “landing page for LGBTQ people who have questions at any level.”

As Invisible Histories grows and changes, Burford is adamant that more people not only use the resources they’ve uncovered, but also tell Invisible Histories about what’s missing and, if they can, how to get it. “We want to create as broad of an amount of resources as we can so that people can come and find what they want,” Burford says. “And if they can’t find it, we want to be a place where they can ask us. We want a community. We want a library where you go in and you learn and you exchange ideas, and we grow, and we fill in the gaps. We want the community’s input and their help.”

Like the LGBTQ people and communities who came before us, Invisible Histories is doing work that will also help ensure our survival — in the archives and outside of them. And although we’ve achieved what some may argue as some of the most pivotal wins of LGBTQ life, we obviously still have a lot to fight for. Both queer Southerners and queer people all across the U.S. can benefit from using the resources provided by Invisible Histories to imagine, create, and fight for new possibilities for queer and trans people everywhere. After all, as with much of the civil rights history of this country, many of the major political wins for LGBTQ people came from people organizing in the South. And people can’t keep dismissing that fact when organizations like Invisible Histories exist.

When asked what people outside of the South can do to support the work of Invisible Histories, Burford puts it very bluntly:

“You know what we need? We need your money. If you want to support queers in the American South, write a check, send a Venmo. You’re sitting on a giant pile of money living in a $5 million apartment that has one room in it in New York? Good for you, girl. Walk down to your bodega and then walk to a Wells fucking Fargo and send us a check. Don’t sit around all day hemming and hawing and making sad faces at us. We’re doing the damn work down here. It matters. I don’t know why people can’t see this.”


UNDER COVER with underwear

This piece is part of UNDER COVER, an Autostraddle editorial series releasing in conjunction with For Them’s underwear drop.

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Stef Rubino

Stef Rubino is a writer, community organizer, and student of abolition from Ft. Lauderdale, FL. They teach Literature and writing to high schoolers and to people who are currently incarcerated, and they’re the fat half of the arts and culture podcast Fat Guy, Jacked Guy. You can find them on Twitter (unfortunately).

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I Watched New Reality Show ‘I Kissed a Girl’ and I Liked It

This piece about I Kissed a Girl was originally written when the show aired on the BBC. It’s being republished now that the show is streaming on Hulu.


Last year, when the BBC launched I Kissed a Boy, a show claiming to be the UK’s first dating show featuring all queer men, I did a bit of a double take. Kissed a boy? Had they really misheard the second-most queerbaiting song in pop history* so badly they’d gender flipped it?

Fortunately, the follow-up series is putting things right, and for the first time on British TV we are getting a reality dating show providing 100% guaranteed lesbian drama, because its cast is 100% queer women!

As the title suggests, I Kissed A Girl follows a very snog-centric format: Ten women are matched into couples, with the central gimmick being that the first time they meet, they must greet each other tongue-first! As a viewer, we get a whole thirty seconds or so of the couple walking through the sun-drenched Italian countryside while they reveal the deep, critical details they find attractive in a partner, such as “edgy” or “cheeky.” Finally, they meet poolside at The Masseria**, for an artful smooch to a soundtrack of Sam Smith, Tegan and Sara, etc. before moving onto fripperies such as discovering each others’ name and picking a date for their wedding.

This format left me with a few questions. TV shoots are not exactly quick — did they really snog just the once? Or were there a lot of retakes while the producers found the right shot? Although I was weirded out for the first couple of kisses (I usually like a bit more build-up, you know?), by snog #4 I was totally desensitised and up for more!

Before I delve into the details of our couples, I should point out that because I Kissed a Girl is made for the BBC, there are a few things to take into account. Chiefly, because this queer snogfest is essentially funded by the British taxpayer, there’s a baseline expectation that we’ll be getting not completely terrible representation, and there’s zero prize money or anything like that on offer. Literally, the only thing anyone on this show is looking to win is a girlfriend. Generally, that means we will have more people that seem like real humans, and fewer people that appear to have been dredged from the bowels of hell for the sole purpose of riling up everyone they come into contact with. I view this as a superior approach to reality TV, and there is definitely far less shrieking on I Kissed a Girl than I had come to expect from these kinds of shows.

So, who are the fearless sapphics so desperate for love that they are happy for their friends and family to see them lock lips with strangers on national TV? Repeatedly? Like, literally dozens of times per episode?

Priya & Naee

Priya is a South Asian South Welsh femme who likes mascs. Naee is a masc Londoner from a Jamaican family, who likes femmes. You can immediately see the incredible lengths the producers have gone to in order to match these enigmatic sapphics! There appears to be a spark between these two initially, but fallout from other couples presents Naee with another opportunity, causing a bit of drama, and a lot of consternation for Priya over the first few episodes.

Priya a South Asian South Welsh femme and Naee a masc Londoner from a Jamaican family snog

Amy & Meg

Amy lives in Surrey, has a complex about being posh, and is femme for femme. Meg, from a small town in Yorkshire, is a fire-breathing femme (yes, really), up for anyone that can match her high energy. Of all the cast, Amy is the one it takes me longest to warm to, because of the amount of insecurities she radiates. However! Stick with her and her madcap personality really starts to shine through. Meg isn’t so fussed on the sticking with her part though, and it’s pretty clear that one of the other girls has caught her eye, which leads us to…

Amy a posh femme and Meg, a fire-breathing femme, kiss

Fiorenza & Demi

Fiorenza is reality TV gold — a soft butch Scottish charmer claiming in her intro that she’s a “big softie” and not at all a player, before instantly approaching several girls to tell them she’s a drummer — in a band — with an irresistible twinkle in her eye. The most difficult challenge in each episode is not working out who Fiorenza is going to go after this time, but reining in your awe while she does so. Her initial match, Demi, is completely lovely and seeking her first ever girlfriend, but she is left with quite a bit of work to make that happen!

Fiorenza, a soft butch Scottish charmer, and Demi, a lovely femme, snog.

Lisha & Abby

Easy-going tomboy Lisha and fun-loving femme Abby seem like a great match, and spend the first few episodes in such close contact that you wonder if it’s like in ice dancing where they will get penalised for not touching each other. However, their clinginess may come back to haunt them when the couples are forced to confront their red flags!

I Kissed a Girl: Easy-going tomboy Lisha and fun-loving femme Abby kiss

Cara & Georgia

Cara is a tattoo-laden Northern Irish femme who likes a sporty girl. Georgia has all the swagger you’d expect for a football player, and likes a femme with an edge. Within two seconds of their kiss, this couple have glommed onto each other so hard, you suspect the producers will have to break out forceps to remove them from each others’ grasp.

Cara, a tattoo-laden Northern Irish femme, and Georgia, a football player with swagger, kiss.


Overall, I was fairly happy with the representation on I Kissed a Girl, especially the ratio of masc-leaning to femme-presenting women on the show. Most contestants come from smaller towns, across the whole of the UK, and it’s great that the show-makers have not taken the easy option to just dip into the typical queer hotspots like London and Brighton. That said, body diversity is what you’d expect for a dating show: basically non-existent. And while there’s a decent mix of those who identify as queer, bi, gay and “big fat lesbian,” I was surprised that the show chose only cis women to take part, although at this halfway point perhaps it’s too early to cement judgement.

As reality shows go, I Kissed a Girl is pretty light on structure, with the bulk of each episode focused on the girls sitting around The Masseria, gossiping about who fancies each other and the state of everyone’s relationship. This is all great, actually. If you’re the kind of person that enjoys spending the morning after a big night dissecting everything that happened, more than you enjoyed the night itself, you will get a lot out of this show.

Whether it’s because it’s all queer women, or as I mentioned earlier, the cast skews towards regular people, everyone on I Kissed a Girl just seems so good natured about it all. They joke about wife swapping! They fess up quickly to their current partner when they like someone else! They celebrate each others’ sluttiness! There’s also a decent amount of people opening up and getting vulnerable about all kinds of aspects of their queerness and intersectionality, which is excellent to see on TV. As one of the girls so articulately puts it: “Being here is quite good for that being gay thing.”

Of course, the producers can’t just let them all be so evolved, and frequently introduce elements of chaos to shake up proceedings. Chief among them is The Kiss Off. This is not the competitive smooch marathon that you may expect from the name, but rather the main method by which contestants get eliminated. At the end of every other day, everyone decides whether they want to keep kissing their current match, or say they’re after someone else — in the hope they want them back. Anyone left unkissed at the end is sent home from The Masseria. Sadly, any kind of triad or polycule does not seem to be an option, or at least no-one’s tried their luck so far!

With ten girls, you might think it would be easy enough for any rejected girls to get together. But things get very interesting when we start getting new girls introduced! Just as the initial pairings were very intentionally matched, so are the newbies clearly hand-picked to set a cat among the sapphic pigeons. I love the fact that not only do they bring in another professional footballer to test out Cara’s fledgeling feelings for Georgia, they find someone that plays Georgia’s exact same position. Do they have a reserve cast of lesbians for every single football position? It seems entirely plausible!

With episodes dropping more frequently than Fiorenza’s jaw at a passing femme, we’re already at the halfway mark of the show, and it’s fair to say I am thoroughly addicted. Let me know in the comments if you’ve been watching, what you think so far, and how long it took you to Google wtf is a masseria!


*The most queerbaiting song in pop history is definitely Tatu’s “All The Things She Said”

**A masseria is a kind of 16th century fortified farmhouse specific to the Puglia region of Italy. The word is mentioned about a hundred times per episode like we should all know what it means!!

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Sally

Sally lives in the UK. Her work has been featured in a Korean magazine about queer people and their pets, and a book about haunted prisons. She never intended for any of this to happen.

Sally has written 81 articles for us.

11 Comments

  1. I love when I see my taxes going somewhere good and gay! This actually looks like the sort of reality tv I’d enjoy, too

  2. Surprised myself with how much I’m enjoying this show! And you’re right, it’s much more wholesome and good-spirited than most reality TV I’ve watched (at least so far…)

  3. (it’s funded by the British government, I wouldn’t expect any kind of reasonable trans representation…)

    • The BBC is funded by licence fee payers (basically everyone in the country who watches TV) rather than the government. Also not surprised there’s no trans representation, but that’s because they would be served total hell on social media and in the press. And I suspect the producers are mindful of making sure this (first of a kind) series lands as well as it can for those involved. Plus, I can’t imagine any British trans queer woman having any interest in exposing themselves to the inevitable tirade of hate they would, sadly, absolutely receive here…

  4. I can’t remember when I last watched a reality show of any kind, but this one had me intrigued, and I actually kinda liked it. As already mentioned, it’s probably becuase of the relative “everyday-ness” of the contestants, even when they stir things up there’s no malice behind it, really.
    It would be interesting to know the actual timespan of the show.. it seems like they haven’t even been there a week yet (ep4)? I’m just amazed at how fast they get attached to one another. [Insert u-haul joke here].

    Also, there’s no way that the production can find a spanner disruptive enough to split up Cara and Georgia. One of the other girls (don’t remember who) called it from the second they entered the Masseria [insert minor eyeroll at the voiceover overuse of that word here] and I wholeheartedly agree. If they blow up it’s gonna be because of something between them, not production antics.

  5. I’m loving this show so much! I agree with you that it feels much lighter in drama and misunderstandings than most reality TV, and that’s preferable to me – most of the show is just watching them all hang out and be good-natured and try to resolve conflicts, even if they don’t always succeed.

    I would like to see more butch/butch and femme/femme pairings though.

    Also – crushing hard on Georgia and Lisha 🥵

  6. My gf and I have watched the series (we got it in New Zealand pretty early, wahoo!) and we loved it. You are right, the women are so relatable and real. I never watch reality tv and I avoided

    • Yikes, submitted too soon. Avoided The Ultimatum because of previous relationship trauma making it too close to home, but IKAG was a healing balm.

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Anarchist Author Margaret Killjoy Crafts Trans Worlds in the Woods

all photos by Nico Hall

Dressed in all black down to her ankles, dark hair in two braids, Margaret Killjoy let me into her house in the forested mountains, where she lives a hermit-like life with her companion, her dog Rintrah. A transfeminine musician, podcaster, and author of multiple fantasy books, Killjoy lives in the mountains of Appalachia in a home filled with instruments, books, art, and medieval weaponry. For an author who wrote an upcoming novel described as “an own-voices story of trans witchcraft,” her home met my expectations and then some.

Killjoy’s first young adult crossover fantasy book, The Sapling Cage, comes out on September 24 and is described as a novel that hearkens back to gender-bending fantasy and speculative fiction works by women like Ursula K. Le Guin and Tamora Pierce.

I snuck in the interview just before the east coast book tour for The Sapling Cage. Killjoy tells me there has never been so much pre-publication buzz for one of her books before. But given the evil deeds in the book center around resource extraction and power hoarding, and the trans girl protagonist who is not only exploring her identity but training to be a witch, and the collective Millennial and Gen X longing for something like the fantasy stories of our youth, it’s easy to see why the moment is right for this book’s release.

***

We can look to Tamora Pierce as an expert world-builder and fantasy writer, but we also must acknowledge the shortcomings of her multiple series, especially when it comes to gender. Her book The Song of the Lioness Quartet was innovative for its protagonist, Alanna, a girl who disguised herself as a boy in order to train as a knight in a system and world where girls were not allowed to do so. In a subsequent series in the same world, Kel follows in Alanna’s footsteps. This time, she’s legally able to train as a knight openly as a girl, but she faces unrelenting sexism while doing so. The series exchanges the stresses of secrecy for the barbs of resentment Kel faces and overcomes. While Kel is notably burly, tall, and level-headed, much quieter and less romantically inclined girl protagonist in contrast to the petite, red-headed and violet-eyed, love-triangle-having protagonist of the first series, these two series of Pierce’s works still keep to gendered expectations in a lot of ways, rarely venturing into discussions of queerness or anyone who isn’t cis. In recent years, it can seem like we’ve seen fewer stereotypical and cliche ideas around femininity permeating the young adult fantasy and speculative fiction genres, but a lot of tropes still persist, and despite a genre that contains infinite room for expansive thinking and reimagining of cultures, roles, and genders, we often still see cishet normativity win out in young adult books. Still, I know that Pierce’s works, which many queer adults read as kids, left us wanting when it came to representation that felt more direct, where we wouldn’t have to stretch to see reflections of who we were growing up to be in the text.

In The Sapling Cage, Killjoy presents us with a 16-year-old protagonist, Lorel, who is smart but still learning, pretty but not ridiculously so, strong but not the strongest, good at fighting but not the best. She is frequently conflicted, but often keeps these complexities to herself. She can be brave, but she can also be afraid or unable to stomach violence. Lorel struggles throughout the book to connect with her emotions. She’s spent so much time suppressing parts of her identity, that she cannot always easily define what she wants. Sometimes she has a sense of exactly what she feels is the right course of action, but often, she’s taking the thoughts, feelings, and advice of others into account, too. She exists on the demisexual spectrum, and her romantic feelings bloom sweetly and slowly.

Importantly, to both the plot, and as Killjoy hopes, the reader, Lorel is also trans. And so, in this new addition to the genre, Lorel swaps places with her cis girl best friend who was promised to the witches from birth, but who wants to be a knight. While boys and girls in this world can join various brotherhoods of knights, only girls can join the witches, so Lorel puts on a dress, and begins her journey from thinking of herself as being in disguise, afraid of discovery, to owning her identity as a girl who will grow up to be a woman — and a witch.

When I read the early scene where Lorel and her childhood best friend agree to switch places, it harkened back so beautifully to the first time I’d read Tamora Pierce’s Song of the Lioness. And it harmonized, too, because this was different. This time, we were going to follow the people learning magic, not knighthood. We weren’t going to a castle, but into the woods, and as someone who has often felt locked out of certain circles of girlhood or cis womanhood, the idea of following a character’s journey into a sacred women’s space, and, I hoped, into acceptance in said space, held some serious appeal.

Still, Killjoy had to wait some years to find a publisher for the book after she completed the manuscript in 2017. The book played with emotionality in ways that were atypical of the genre. “I was a fairly emotionally withdrawn teenager,” says Killjoy, “and so I wrote a book about myself as a teenager in terms of a lot of the emotional landscape that Lorel is facing.” However, as Killjoy puts it, that’s “not the way you’re supposed to write YA. You’re supposed to write these almost hyperbolically emotional characters.”

Killjoy takes great care with her handling of the “kids versus adults” dynamics pervasive in YA, resulting in a more complex book with crossover appeal. “I actually wanted her to have a realistic relationship with the power structures that she’s part of, as compared to in traditional YA,” Killjoy says. “I understand why it’s so important to give protagonists agency in the story, and I don’t think Lorel lacks agency in the story, but I think that it’s important for her to coordinate with the adults in her life as she’s attempting to save the world, you know? And I think that’s a more realistic way to solve a problem.”

In a recent post on her Substack offering writing advice, Killjoy notes in the section “Writing the Other” that “constant bombardment with negative portrayals of trans women kept me from coming out even to myself for decades.” When I ask about writing a trans girl in a YA novel, of course Tamora Pierce comes up.

Killjoy tells me about discovering the Song of the Lioness books around 5th grade. “I used to say it set me up to be a cross-dressing knight because, for a very long time, I was just a boy named Margaret who dressed like this, and then eventually came out as trans,” she says. “Then, I was like, no, I’m going to be a girl who pretends to be a boy, and then learns to be a knight.”

The Sapling Cage, she says, is in some ways a conscious inversion of the premise. “I was like okay, well I want a boy who wants to be a witch,” she says. “The most important gender part that I’m trying to convey is this idea that Lorel doesn’t know she is a girl trapped in a boy’s body. That’s not the only way to conceive of transness.”

“I think that we have this problem, although we got to it from an understandable point of view, in how we talk about transness right now,” Killjoy adds. In her childhood, she vacillated between wanting to do girly things, then wanting to change her name, then backing off a name change for a time. She describes a back-and-forth gender journey that is not necessarily neat and tidy. “I don’t want to convey to young kids who are questioning their gender that you have to be sure.”

***

Margaret Killjoy is a master world-builder. She has built a large part of her writing career on speculative fiction and is the world-builder for the recently released tabletop role-playing game Penumbra City.

“I really like the idea of exploring gender in contexts that are not and don’t need to look like the modern world,” she says. And indeed, she does not and says she never will use the words “cis” or “trans” in the Daughters of the Empty Throne series (of which The Sapling Cage is book one). “Not because those are bad words,” she explains, “but because they’re not appropriate to the gender of this high fantasy Medieval setting, you know?”

Killjoy wrote 50,000 words of world-building for Penumbra City, a game where the players use reputation as currency instead of gold, wealthy God-Kings play with the world like it’s a chess game — and yet people find ways to carve out an existence even amongst trash piles and zombies, all while resistance and revolution brews amongst different factions. When it comes to her approach, though, while she does outline her novels, Killjoy thinks that having all the answers at the start is a bore. She prefers to begin by planting seeds, uncovering and discovering throughout her writing process, surprising herself and her readers with the way the world emerges as the story unfolds.

Her first encounter with fantasy world-building came through Dungeons and Dragons. She started playing with some friends, but when they moved away, Killjoy just kept reading the books. “It was what I spent my allowance on,” she says.

World-building is also political. “It bores the hell out of me with world-building when people basically recreate our world,” says says, “and they’re like ‘oh I mapped out everything about every single town,’ but they haven’t bothered to imagine that a town could use a different economic system.”

“I do see my writing craft as sort of a magical process,” says Killjoy, “and that is an attempt to influence culture and thought.” We discussed the influence of Anarchist writer Ursula K. Le Guin, who frequently explored gender in her work in ways that are meaningfully alien to the conceptions of gender we typically hold in the real world, which asks us to interrogate just why we believe what we do, and what, if anything, is a hard and fast rule that must be followed. In speaking to the importance of imagining new worlds, Le Guin said in her speech acceptance of the National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, “We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable — but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art. Very often in our art, the art of words.”

In The Sapling Cage, for example, witches don’t eat meat from domesticated animals because to do so impedes their access to magic. Killjoy, who’s vegan, says, “I don’t believe that in a literal sense…But I can have characters in the magical world have that experience, and then I think that that’s more likely to make people think about what’s involved energetically in an animal raised in captivity versus a hunted animal versus eating plants.”

Collective and radical politics can be seen throughout the world-building of The Sapling Cage: the witches practice making decisions by consensus; there are varying levels of acceptance and understanding when it comes to gender identity and asexual and nonbinary characters; and while there are serious hierarchies, there are also sometimes collectivized farms. There are different magical systems, even, and no one, right way of doing anything, no single correct way to perceive of or even see magic — the witches in the book, The Order of the Vine, represent only one view and make that much clear.

For her work on her history podcast — Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff, a look at people who were legitimately awesome, good, or otherwise on the right side of history — Killjoy researches and writes a 5,000-10,000 word script every week. This, too, reflects her thinking around world-building, history, and perception. “Learning of this history has really, really informed my writing,” she says, “because the thing I love about history is learning about different ways that people have fought and felt and lived in essentially different realities and needs of the world in different ways, because humans haven’t changed, but our conceptions of everything have changed.” She talks to me about a recent search for mini-periods in time of increased LGBTQ acceptance and tolerance because history is not a linear march toward progress, but a twisting, turning thing full of backs and forths.

***

One thing I noticed when reading The Sapling Cage was that the characters sure did wander, walk, and generally find themselves traveling. I ask Killjoy if her personal past had any influence on that part of the story. “I just wanted a weird, interesting life,” she says.

She grew up with a family who surrounded her with books, then went to art school, and then dropped out in 2002 after attending an anti-globalization protest. “There was a culture of traveling anarchists at that time, where we would go to different demonstrations, and then in between the big demonstrations, we would open squats and cook with Food, Not Bombs, and ride bikes around and you know, guerilla gardens everywhere,” she says.“It was the first thing in my life that gave my life a sense of adventure and meaning.”

She explored, traveled to new places, exposed herself to new people, and wrote her first short story in a squat in the South Bronx. “The window was broken, and it was winter, and I had this roll top desk that had just been in that room for probably the 60 years since anyone lived there before, and it was almost an aesthetic choice. I didn’t have a computer or anything. I just hand-wrote a story.”

From there, Killjoy wrote zines that fictionalized her life but presented them as authentic perzines while writing under various names, causing some confusion later when she began to publish the work of others, readers still assuming everyone was still Killjoy. This led to her consolidating under one name, Margaret Killjoy, and no longer publishing under pseudonyms. She continued to write and submit short stories, and started Steampunk magazine, which she describes as “a critique of Victoriana.” In 2009, Mythmakers and Lawbreakers: Anarchist Writers on Fiction, the first book Killjoy edited, was published.

In 2014, Killjoy published fantasy novel A Country of Ghosts and sold her first short story. She used the money from the story’s sale to attend the intensive speculative writing workshop at Clarion West in 2015. Following the workshop, Killjoy continued to write and sell short stories.

She recalls one of her instructors telling her he thought she’d be the most likely to make it because she lived in a van. She laughs, “I was waiting for him to be like ‘because you’re the best.'”

We talk about the realities of writing and publishing and money, about keeping expenses down and about writers who live in tents, on boats, or, well, in vans. Killjoy credits zine culture for breaking her into writing. She continued to publish books before she found an agent, including The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion, the first in her ongoing Danielle Cain series, which follows anarcho-punk demon fighters and begins when a man-eating demon deer appears in a squatter town.

Traveling constantly, losing friends to violence, and seeing other people in the movement she was in go to prison culminated in increasing panic attacks. Killjoy knew she needed to seek some more stability — and also, her van wasn’t long for this world. She built a black A-Frame cabin on an anarchist land project, where she lived without electricity through the start of the pandemic before moving into the house where she lives now with her rescue dog.

Her house is filled with instruments, mostly a variety of harps she put together from kits that require some woodworking. She gleefully takes an instrument off a high shelf and tells me it’s a “goblin harp.” Killjoy strums it, and each string plays the same note. It’s a goblin-esque troll of an instrument. She pulls out a dulcimer and skillfully plucks away at the strings while it rests on her lap.

Sound, too, is an important part of Killjoy’s life and work. She’s a musician and founder of the feminist black metal band Feminazgûl. She’s involved in additional musical projects ranging from neofolk to electronica, and of course, also just plays for fun.

She also is part of publishing collective Strangers in a Tangled Wilderness. Penumbra City is published through Strangers, and I ask Killjoy, if, as a publisher, there was anything she wished writers knew or understood better. “I wish people knew that rejection is not the end of the world by any stretch, and that a rejection of a book doesn’t mean it’s a bad book, it just means it’s not what that the press can publish right now,” she says.

“I wish people knew it was a peer relationship,” she adds. She emphasizes that just as it takes a great deal of work from a writer to complete a book, it also takes the publisher an enormous amount of effort to get the book out into the world and to set the work up for success.

Killjoy takes me through her weekly writing routine, which is equal parts inspiring and intimidating. She writes 5,000-10,000 word scripts each week for Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff, as well as a 2,000-4,000 word Substack post, and also, about 1,000 words each day on one of her fiction projects. The last one is looser, since Killjoy notes that actually completing 1,000 words of fiction each day would mean completing four books per year instead of the “two books a year or so I seem to be on right now.”

She holds a somewhat anti-precious stance when it comes to her work that keeps her producing. Even though she’s technically living in just one place now, Killjoy is constantly moving — and that’s how she likes it. “I love that my job is learning, and I’m not an academic,” she says. “Yeah, like that makes me so happy. You know, every now and then I’m like, oh, something’s hard in my life and then I’m like this is the sunset I get everyday, and it is paid for by me reading history books. And talking into a microphone. And I am one of the luckiest people who’s ever been born, and I worked really fucking hard to get here, yeah, you know, but like I am very aware of and grateful that I like my life.”

“So, it’s funny, cause then I realize that most people I know don’t actually want to live like I do at the end of the day, most people don’t actually want to basically be a hermit,” she adds. “My dad made fun of me when I told him I was a hermit, and he was like, you have the internet.” This is true, she concedes. But in an average week, she probably only has one in-person conversation with a cashier, or with her dog Rintrah. “But he doesn’t talk back,” Killjoy says.

In a typical day, she’ll spend time walking with her dog, and then most of her day is dedicated to reading and writing. She talks to friends, and of course, podcasts, and stays connected to the world via the internet.

“I don’t know if this is true,” Killjoy starts, “but a million years ago, I heard Enya just sort of got rich, bought a castle, and lives alone with cats in the castle and makes music.”

“And bothers no one,” I add.

“She’s not on Twitter saying turkey shit.”

Living in a place that allows her this life of solitude informs her work.. “Because it’s the mountains where no one goes, it has an attitude of ‘we let people be weird.’ We mostly just wanna let people leave people alone,” she says.It’s the kind of writing life some people dream about, and the kind that is definitely best with a silly dog who will keep trying to lick your face or bark at planes.

Despite wearing all black living in the woods, Margaret does not describe herself as a witch. “I don’t fuck with [magic] much cause I do believe in it.” Magic, real or not, is a metaphor in Killjoy’s writing. The villains in the book are resource extractors, people seeking to accrue and consolidate power. The Sapling Cage begins with a concerning, magical blight that leaves trees drained of all life. Margaret and I walk out of her house so she can show me around her land. Some of the oak trees are dying of some kind of blight here, too.

She talks about how, even here, at her hermetic outpost, she can see the effects of climate change, the ways in which the power hungry are sacrificing the commons of nature for their own personal gain. Still, the sun is setting over the rolling mountains, I am taking some very witchy photos of Killjoy, and her book fills me with a ton of hope. I’m rooting for The Sapling Cage to find its audience and its way into the hands of the kids, and especially trans kids, who will love it.

When it comes to what’s next, Margaret is, as you might predict from her writing routine, chugging ahead on future books. She tells me she’s just completed the next book in the Danielle Cain series, and then, of course, she’ll be moving onto the next book in the Daughter of the Empty Throne trilogy.

No need to wonder if she’s writing. She is definitely writing.


The Sapling Cage by Margaret Killyjoy is available for preorder.

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

Join AF+!

Nico

Nico Hall is a Team Writer for Autostraddle (formerly Autostraddle's A+ and Fundraising Director and For Them's Membership and Editorial Ops person.) They write nonfiction both creative — and the more straightforward variety, too, as well as fiction. They are currently at work on a secret longform project. Nico is also haunted. You can find them on Twitter and Instagram. Here's their website, too.

Nico has written 232 articles for us.

The Gayest Thing I Ever Did Was Become a Florist

all photos courtesy of the author

As an ultra-feminine-presenting, ex-conservative Christian, I yearned to be accepted into queer community when I came out. I never thought floral design — an industry I assumed to be awfully straight — would be where I found it. Three years later, and I couldn’t have been more wrong. The art of floral design is beautifully queer-coded, and floristry is an art run and cultivated by the gays.

Flowers have a language of their own, expressing sentiments of love, despair, gratitude, you name it. And throughout history, flowers have held ‘hidden meanings’ to communicate elements of queerness, rooted in translating the need for queer liberation in plain sight.

In the 1890s, Oscar Wilde famously wore a green carnation and encouraged his friends to do so as a symbol of “unnatural” love. Donning an unnaturally dyed bright green carnation became a trend among gay men in England as a result. Oscar Wilde was so brat. I wish I had Wilde’s zest and ability to use creativity to embrace the beauty of my queer existence earlier in life.

a bouquet of roses

“When did you first know you were gay,” my mother curiously (and randomly) asked when I was 31 years old, four years after I had come out.

It was, at least, a refined version of the question she had previously asked out of animosity disguised as Christian “love”: “Are you gay? Because you know that’s unacceptable in this household and in the eyes of God.”

This new question was one I wasn’t prepared for. It reflected a calm curiosity I never imagined would escape my mother’s lips after years of scrutiny and suspicion surrounding my sexuality. Years of avoiding what we both knew. The same question I would revisit for over a decade of my life, knowing damn well I could pinpoint the exact moments, the outstanding feeling in my chest, and the overwhelming sense that I wasn’t like other girls. I was tainted, but surely everyone felt the same way in some sense, right?

My friends probably didn’t count down the minutes until everyone was asleep to quietly “stumble upon” The Real L Word for the fifth night in a row, even after getting caught and confronted about it.

Deep down, I knew the answer to my mother’s question, a memory itching to be told.

floral arrangements

I’ll never forget the smell of the warm European air circling the tiny room I shared on an ambassador trip. The odd anticipation my 14-year-old mind didn’t want to dissect. As ambassadors, we traveled from city to city, swapping roommates in each new hotel. I waited for the moment to room with the girl that no one could resist; and here was that opportunity. My heart fluttered as she hopped in my bed and carefully placed her head on my stomach while caressing my arms.

Don’t move, I told myself.

I would hate for her to think I was enjoying her warm body against mine or that I was different. Because if anyone found out, what would I say? My gay panic ticked louder than the Grey’s Anatomy episode playing in the background. Maybe she had these intimate moments with other girls on the trip. A flicker of jealousy quickly covered me. I liked her, liked liked her.

a bouquet of roses

Zinnias are an interesting flower. While their petals appear as delicate as papier mâché, their roots are deeply grounded, and yet, they still need something to lean on. This was my relationship with my mother. Everything in me hated that I yearned for her acceptance. I wanted to lean on her and know I’d be fully supported. I felt this urgent sense that if I didn’t nurture our relationship, I would never be able to fully bloom. Navigating this uncomfortable conversation with her about my queerness felt like growing my zinnia garden for the first time. It took patience, proper planning, and a willingness to adjust based on the flower’s needs.

How will I cultivate the strongest stems?

Total transparency with my mother felt like bearing my soul, something I wasn’t ready to do. When did you first know you were gay invaded my body. I couldn’t tell her about the time with the girl on the ambassador trip. Instead, something else came out without much thinking. The words “I always knew” traveled through my Subaru Outback like tiny pollen particles floating in the air.

It was the truth; I always knew being gay was a part of my identity, an identity that would lead me to find my eternal love: flowers.

hands clipping flowers

The gay rights movement is strategically decorated with floral references. Historically, flowers have represented the growing need for civil discourse, as well as gay people’s ability to flourish in undesirable conditions. The pansy is widely known as a term used for gay men and later reclaimed during the ‘Pansy Craze,’ starting the rise of gay nightlife and drag performances in the 1930s. Even flowers as symbolic as the rose have ties to gay culture. In 1971, Japan’s first well known gay publication was released and called “Barazoku,” or “rose tribe.” And nothing is more iconic than Martha P. Johnson’s many flower crowns. Images of her adorning flowers highlight a small glimpse of how beautifully fierce she was during her fight for queer liberation.

Lavender is one of the most notable symbols for gay political activism; both the color and the flower speak for and to us. The Lavender Scare was a witch-hunt that started in 1950 and lasted over a decade, targeting LGBTQIA+ individuals working in government positions. Americans holding government positions were harassed, fired, or forced to resign solely based on their perceived sexual orientation.

Lavender has long been associated with nonconformity and resistance to gender norms. The term “Lavender Menace” was originally used by National Organization for Women (NOW) founder Betty Friedan to dismiss lesbian feminists within the movement. In response, activists like Rita Mae Brown and others reclaimed the term, asserting the importance of lesbian issues within feminism. This period marked a significant turning point, highlighting the intersectionality of gender and sexuality within feminist discourse and activism.

The lavender flower itself is known for its calming and healing properties. For a community that is constantly under attack, this representation translates to this day. We are endlessly in the process of healing from past traumas and on an ongoing journey toward self-acceptance and equality.

multiple floral bouquets

Depictions of sapphic love and flowers can be traced as far back as ancient Greece. Sappho of Lesbos frequently referenced flowers, including violets, in her poetry, using them as metaphors for beauty, femininity, and the love she expressed for women. Sappho’s work inspired other poets to connect violets to same-sex romance, including British poet, Renée Vivien. Vivien’s The Muse Of Violets used the flower as both a literary homage to Sappho and a subtle innuendo to her own relationships with women. The reference to the violet appears again in the 1972 play “The Captive” by Édouard Bourdet, a depiction of lesbianism that officially coined the flower as the “lesbian flower.”

In an industry notoriously saturated with straight, white women at the forefront, highlighting queer floral artists of color is more crucial now than ever.  It would be criminal not to mention Maurice Harris when touching on gay florists forging a path for us all. When I started writing about the influence of flowers in my life and within the gay community, I knew I’d have to include a love letter to him. His electric energy as a judge on the floral competition series Full Bloom spoke to me like no one had before. Harris absolutely gave rich guncle energy, or better yet, fairy god papa, because I knew nothing about floral design at the time, and here he was, providing the keys.

From designing for some of the greats to co-owning a beautifully curated coffee shop called Bloom & Plume Coffee in Los Angeles, Harris didn’t wait for someone to give him his flowers — he grew his own. And don’t even get me started on the inspirational gems he drops on Instagram. I mean, Harris’ segment “Capitalism Doesn’t Care About Your Creativity” speaks to all people just trying to make art while striving to survive in this system. Black, gay, incredibly talented, a creative unlike the rest, Harris’ existence brings the past and present fight for queer voices in floristry to the forefront. This sense of limitless creativity and unapologetically being openly gay is something I’ve only recently embraced in my floral career.

For a long time, feelings of hopelessness felt like my norm. Meet a “nice” guy, get married, have children, fight against doing all the wifely duties, get divorced — all while daydreaming about the touch of a woman. This was my destiny, the only life I could see for myself. That is, until I met my wife. She brought an indescribable light to my life. She allowed me to flourish more than I could’ve ever imagined, and she is the reason I’m a florist today. Her gift of weekly flowers led me to start playing around with floral design, something I never tried or even considered trying (honestly, I was terrible at first). Yet, at the same time I was finally accepting my truth: my career as a flight attendant was suffocating me, and I was ready for a change. So, with the advice of my therapist, I started delving into my new floral hobby. She suggested I watch a show called Full Bloom on HBO, altering the trajectory of my life and career forever.

The sixteen-year-old version of myself who was “saved” at a Flyleaf concert, who prayed every night to be cured from this “sickness,” the girl who excessively dated men so no one would question her sexuality, now makes floral content for a queer-owned company. Becoming a florist truly was the gayest thing I ever did, and it coincided with me beginning to live my life in a way that embraced my queerness. I am now the Black, feminine, queer representation I needed growing up.

a bouquet of roses

None of this would’ve been possible without the influence of flowers. As I reflect on which flower would best represent my journey and the fight against bigotry in this country today, anthurium instantly comes to mind. In Hawaiian culture, anthurium is believed to represent love and protection from harm. Its heart-shaped exterior and ability to instantly transform any arrangement make it stand out. No matter the attacks queer people face, our existence commands attention hunny — and we are here to stay!

Flowers grow and die, a fact that deters some from enjoying them. But much like flowers, we grow, we blossom, and then we die, hopefully discovering who we are in the process. While I’m still navigating living in my truth regardless of anyone’s opinion, I will always rely on flowers to lead the way.

And, yes, I still rewatch episodes of The Real L Word, but now I don’t have to hide it.

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

Join AF+!

Korrin Wheeler

Korrin Wheeler is a lesbian floral artist and owner of Bad and Blooming, a floral design company based in Dallas, Texas. She is also a writer, media strategist, and cat mom to three crazy girls. Since graduating from Texas Tech University with a B.A. in Media Strategies, she has worked in several fields within the creative realm. Most recently, her work was featured on Buzzfeed.com and OUT.com. Her existence as a Black, Queer woman is a constant reminder that what she does, whether she's writing or constructing floral installations, truly matters.

Korrin has written 1 article for us.

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Apple TV+’s Best TV Shows With Queer Characters

Apple TV+ is a streaming service still building its identity and they’re still best-known for Ted Lasso and The Morning Show. They only release a few new programs every month, and nearly everything they produce has a high production value and a strong visual imprint. There’s a lot of high-concept sci-fi, sprawling international casts and big-name actors. You won’t find any teen soaps or mainstream drama, but they love to send people into space or underground.

As the smallest player in the streaming space; Apple TV+’s offerings are not quite robust yet when it comes to lesbian, bisexual and trans women and nonbinary people, but there is still a lot there for LGBTQ+ TV shows on Apple TV —some of the best the network has to offer is on Land of Women, Acapulco, Dickinson, Mythic Quest, Bad Sisters, For All Mankind, Sunny and The Afterparty. 

Due to the relatively small number of shows on the platform, pretty much every show with a queer woman in it is on this list, because there are so few! So… one of the shows included on this list received an absolute pan from our reviewer, that there are at least three queer characters accounted for by the below list whose storylines could be easily described through the lens of “queer character tropes we hate.” But one thing is for sure: someone spent a lot of money on these shows!!!!! Good luck out there!


Acapulco

Year: 2021- present
Length: 3 Seasons, 30 Episodes

two teenage girls in the 80s

Our winning narrator Maximo (Enrique Arrizon) is coming-of-age as the newest employee of Los Colinas in the 1980s, a bustling resort in the titular Mexican beach town that has an uneasy relationship with its locals. Charming and visually delightful, Acapulco wins you over with its big beating heart, easily shifting between English and Spanish throughout. Maximo’s rebellious sister, Sara (Regina Reynoso), falls in love with her (thankfully also queer) best friend and the two are challenged by their homophobic families in their quest to be happy together.


The Afterparty

Year: 2022 – 2023
Length: 2 Seasons, 18 Episodes

Anna Konkle in a beige leather jumpsuit and orange beret holds a pair of binoculars up to her face.

A stylized and clever whodunit stacked with comedic talent, Season Two of The Afterparty is where things get really queer. Weirdo tech titan groom Edgar is murdered the night of his wedding, and the guests all point fingers at each other — amongst them is Hannah (Anna Konkle), Edgar’s adopted sister, who had an affair with his bride Grace (played by queer actor Poppy Liu). Each character gets an episode produced in a specific cinematic style, and Hannah’s is especially excellent. As Kayla writes,  “The Wes Andersonification of her sprawling queer romance is apt for who she is, and it makes for a comedic episode, yes, but also a very immersive and occasionally strikingly earnest one.”

Read Kayla’s piece about The Afterparty’s Season Two finale and its serving up of a Sapphic Wes Anderson Spoof.


Bad Sisters

Year: 2022 – present
Length: One season, 10 Episodes

Bad Sisters all sitting at the table staring at the camera

Wry and warm and funny and rich; this Irish series co-starring and co-created by Sharon Hogan finds four sisters trying desperately to off John Paul the insufferable, abusive gutter-scum husband of the fifth. Sarah Greene is Bibi Garvey, the second-youngest sister and a married lesbian who lost her right eye in a car crash in a tale as dark as it is warm. Although we sadly didn’t write a standalone review of its first season, that was not for a lack of love: Bad Sisters easily made our list of the Best TV Shows of 2022, where it was described as a “MASTERPIECE in television.”


The Big Door Prize

Year: 2022 – 2024
Length: Two seasons, 20 Episodes

The Big Door Prize

This project from the EP of Schitt’s Creek is based on a book in which a small town grocery is suddenly gifted with a machine, Morpho, that is seemingly able to predict the “Life Potential” of its users. Dusty (Chris O’Dowd) and Cass (Gabrielle Dennis) and their daughter are the central family in this tale, but Heather writes that “The Big Door Prize succeeds because it opens up the entire town for viewers, with each new episode focusing on a different character and the card they received from the MORPHO.” Amongst them is Izzy, Cass’s lesbian mother.

Read Heather’s “The Big Door Prize” Features a Middle Age Lesbian Mommi and Existential Promise.


The Buccaneers

Year: 2023- present
Length: One Season, 8 Episodes

Mia Threapleton and Josie Totah in "The Buccaneers," now streaming on Apple TV+.

Queer trans actress Josie Totah is Mabel Elmsworth, a lesbian in a group of noveau riche daughters of prominent American families in the1870s who travel to London to find husbands. After an immediate culture clash there are also balls and kissing in the rain and telegrams. Based on an unfinished Edith Wharton novella, Drew lamented that it ultimately “fails to capture Wharton’s voice and, more disastrously, fails to find a voice of its own.”

Read Drew’s pan of The Buccaneers: Apple TV+’s “The Buccaneers” Ruins Edith Wharton and Fails History.


Dickinson

Year: 2019-2021
Length: 3 Seasons, 30 Episodes

Screenshot from Dickinson: Emily and Sue press their foreheads together

“Let’s take everything we thought we knew about Emily Dickinson, tear it up, wave the lens of a teen comedy over it and see what crazy hijinks we get up to,” writes Sally of this delightfully queer, inventive, three-season series that’s amongst the best Apple TV has to offer our people.

Read Apple TV’s “Dickinson” Is an Angsty, Gay, Absurd Delight and “Dickinson” Season 2 Is an Ode to Emily and Sue.


For All Mankind

Year: 2019 – present
Length: 4 Seasons, 35 Episodes

Female astronaut walking through a spacey type place

This re-imagining of American history in which “the global space race had never ended” opens in 1969 with the Soviet Union beating the U.S. to the moon, devastating NASA and the national mood. When the Soviets one-up themselves by sending a woman into space, NASA does its own diversity push, making room for astronauts like Jodi Balfour’s Ellen Waverly, a closeted lesbian. Every season of this vivid alternate world opens with a time jump, first to the 1980s, then the 1990s (Balfour’s last) before Season 4 makes it to the 2000s.

Read Valerie’s review: For All Mankind’s Lesbian Love Story Is Literally Flung Out of Space.


Invasion

Year: 2021 – present
Length: 2 Seasons, 20 Episodes

a space worker on her headset while a space launch is happening

Somehow one of two TV shows to send an astronaut into space who is having a secret lesbian affair with someone on the ground team for her mission, Invasion follows five people on different sides of the world gradually coming to grips with an experiencing the impact of a mysterious convergence of events causing death and destruction everywhere. (It’s Because Aliens, but it takes an entire season for them to officially reveal to the viewer what the show description already spoiled for all of us.) Queer scientist Mitsuki (Shiori Kutsuna) is a captivating and complex character that makes the whole thing worth watching.


Land of Women

Year: 2024 – present
Length: One Season, 6 Episodes

three women in land of women walking through town confused

Land of Women follows Gala (Eva Longoria) a Mexican American woman whose life as the new owner of a wine shop is disrupted when her husband disappears and a pair of gangsters show up telling her he owes their boss fifteen million dollars. She straps some cash to her own body, picks up her trans lesbian daughter Kate (Victoria Bazua) from art school and her mom Julia (Carmen Maura) from a nursing home, and whisks them off to a place she thinks they’ll be safe — the small Spanish town where her mother was raised and abruptly left. “This series has everything I could ever want from fun TV,” Drew writes. “A gay trans girl and Carmen Maura as a slutty grandma? Is Eva Longoria personally thanking me for secretly choosing her as my favorite desperate housewife back in 2004?”

Read Drew’s review: ‘Land of Women’ Is Must-Watch Fun TV — Especially for Gay Trans Girls


The Last Thing He Told Me

Year: 2023
Length: One Season, 7 Episodes

Aisha Tyler and Jennifer Garner as Jules and Hannah in The Last Thing He Told Me

Based on a thriller one might enjoy reading on a long flight, The Last Thing He Told Me stars Jennifer Garner as Hannah, a woman desperately seeking her just-disappeared husband and uncovering lots of little secrets in the process (as well as a surprisingly intimate relationship with her stepdaughter, Bailey). Aisha Tyler is Jules Nichols, Hannah’s lesbian journalist best friend who helps Hannah in her search for the truth!

Read Valerie’s review: Aisha Tyler Plays Gay Again in “The Last Thing He Told Me”.


Little Voice

Year: 2020
Length: One Season, 9 Episodes

two women hug each other in a basement bar

Sara Bareills wrote original music for this incredibly earnest and lighthearted series about Bess, young woman looking for love and writing songs in a very sanitized New York City. Her roommate, Prisha (Shalini Bathina) has a heartwarming little gay storyline.


Loot

Year: 2022 – present
Length: 2 Season, 20 episodes

Hot people in fancy clothes

Maya Rudolph stars as Molly, a woman who becomes the third-wealthiest woman in the United Sates after earning an $87 million dollar divorce settlement from her cheating tech billionaire husband. She elects to re-engage with the world and the charitable foundation she’d long neglected with the help of her team — including trans actress Michaela Jaé Rodriguez as Sofia Salinas and beloved gay comic/actor Joel Kim Booster as Nicholas.


Monarch: Legacy of Monsters

Year: 2023 – present
Length: 1 Season, 10 episodes

Three young people standing in a garden shocked

In this Monsterverse TV series, Anna Sawai is Cate Randa, a middle school science teacher in San Francisco and a lesbian who, while looking for her missing father Hiroshi, finds her half-brother and learns of her father’s involvement in Monarch, a covert organization tracking Godzilla. They travel with her brother’s ex, May, a hacker played by queer actor Kiersey Clemons — who eventually in my opinion develops some sexual tension with Cate! The show hops between two timelines; the past timeline tells the story of Cate’s grandparents, scientists involved with Monarch’s earliest development. Lee Shaw (Kurt Russel) appears in both timelines as a close ally to the Randa family.


The Morning Show

Year: 2019 – present
Length: 3 seasons, 30 episodes

Laura and Bradley sit on the couch having an intense conversation

Oh, The Morning Show — a big headliner for Apple TV overstuffed with marquee names like Jennifer Aniston and Reese Witherspoon, anchored by talent like Greta Lee, Holland Taylor and Karen Pittman. The Morning Show takes viewers behind the scenes of a major TV network’s signature early AM news program and its anchors and its scandals. In Season Two, noted terrible person Julianna Margulies joins the cast as a lesbian love interest for Reese Witherspoon’s bisexual feminist whippersnapper anchor, Bradley Jackson.


Mythic Quest

Year: 2020 – present
Length: 3 Seasons, 30 Episodes

Mythic Quest: Dana and Rachel take a cute selfie

Valerie described this show set in the quirky office of a video game development company producing a popular fantasy MMO as “funny and heartfelt and goofy, and really just exactly the kind of binge I needed in these stressful times.” In addition to having some great queer female characters and a satisfying romantic storyline, “it uses humor to shine a light on things like the lack of women in game development roles and the struggles female gamers face from toxic fandoms, all without MAKING light of them.”

Read Valerie’s review of Mythic Quest’s Queer Season 2 Storyline, which got her “gamer girl high score.”


Pinecone & Pony

Year: 2022 – present
Length: 2 Seasons, 16 Episodes

Gladys and Wren sit on the bed with some soup and cookies.

Pinecone and her pony face trolls, giants, dragons and a dangerous rope bridge in this animated series that Heather Hogan called “the most wholesome queer TV show I have ever seen!” Heather specifically loved the relationship between Gladys and Wren (Wren’s a nonbinary character played by nonbinary actor Ser Anzoategui), “one of the few queer couples I can think of, in all TV history, where both characters are POC, both are older, and both are fat.”

Read Heather’s Apple TV+’s “Pinecone & Pony” Season 2 Is Wholesome Queer Content.


Severance

Year: 2022 – present
Length: One Season, 9 Episodes

four office workers gripping each other

This show does not have any queer female characters BUT, it has one of the most charming gay male storylines I’ve ever had the pleasure to witness, and it’s one of the best television shows I’ve ever seen. Adam Scott is Mark S., an employee of Lumon Industries who has agreed to a “severance” program in which his non-work memories don’t exist within his working mind. Amongst his fellow employees is Irving Baliff (John Turtoro), who loves rules and develops a connection with Optics and Design head Burt (Christopher Walken). Queer actor Jen Tullock is Devon, Mark’s pregnant sister.


Sunny

Year: 2024 – present
Length: One Season, 8 Episodes

Mizzy, Suzie, and Sunny in Apple TV's Sunny

Suze (Rashida Jones) is an American living in Kyoto who’s husband and son myseteriously disappear, and her husband’s employer leaves her with a personal robot, Sunny, to fill the hole in her heart. But it gradually becomes clear that her husband, in addition to claiming to work in refrigerators when in fact he actually makes robots, was wrapped up in organized crime and a tech black market underworld. Along with her new best friend, lesbian mixologist, Mixxy (Annie the Clumsy), Suze sets out to figure it all out.

Read Kayla’s review: Apple’s AI Thriller Sunny Puts a Lesbian Mixologist and a Robot in the Most Bizarre Platonic Love Triangle on TV


Ted Lasso

Year: 2020 – 2023
Length: 3 Seasons, 34 Episodes

Keely and Jack on a mini-golfing outing

The comedy that put Apple TV on the map, Ted Lasso’s first season was a nearly perfect production about an American football coach going through a tough time with a positive attitude hired to take over an English soccer team. Keely (Juno Temple), who enters the season as the girlfriend of hot-headed legend Roy Kent (Brett Goldstein) and eventually becomes its marketing manager, is bisexual, and in the third season she gets a little (and ultimately lacking) storyline with venture capitalist Jack Danvers (Jodi Balfour).

Read Heather’s first post about Ted Lasso confirming Keely’s bisexuality, and its Jane Austen Catastrophe and Riese’s review of its overall lesbian storyline.


Truth Be Told

Year: 2021 – 2023
Length: 3 Seasons, 28 Episodes

Two women and a young girl stand outside their car, looking concerned

A pretty formulaic thriller helmed by Ocatvia Spencer, who plays an Oakland journalist who restarts a true crime podcast that made her famous to investigate a1999 murder case of a local professor. It’s Season Three when things finally get gay — Poppy works with a lesbian high school principal, played by Gabrielle Union, to investigate the disappearances of several young black girls. It doesn’t end well, but also, Gabrielle Union is playing a lesbian.

Read weekly recaps of “Truth Be Told” on our Boobs on Your Tube column.


Visible: Out on Television

Year: 2020
Length: 5-part miniseries

This docuseries is clearly incredibly relevant to our interests here, but it’s also very good! Combining archival footage with interviews of LGBTQ+ TV actors, writers and directors, Visible: Out on Television is narrated by Janet Mock, Margaret Cho, Asia Kate Dillon, Neil Patrick Harris and Lena Waithe.

Read Heather’s review: “Visible: Out on Television” Is a Must-See Docuseries on the History of LGBTQ Representation on TV

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

Join AF+!

Riese

Riese is the 41-year-old Co-Founder of Autostraddle.com as well as an award-winning writer, video-maker, LGBTQ+ Marketing consultant and aspiring cyber-performance artist who grew up in Michigan, lost her mind in New York and now lives in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared in nine books, magazines including Marie Claire and Curve, and all over the web including Nylon, Queerty, Nerve, Bitch, Emily Books and Jezebel. She had a very popular personal blog once upon a time, and then she recapped The L Word, and then she had the idea to make this place, and now here we all are! In 2016, she was nominated for a GLAAD Award for Outstanding Digital Journalism. She's Jewish and has a cute dog named Carol. Follow her on twitter and instagram.

Riese has written 3239 articles for us.

3 Comments

  1. This is really helpful! I liked how it just covers them all, and alphabetically! And reminded me of some things I’ve been meaning to watch but forgot (like Mythic Quest!)

  2. You are missing “See” from this list. It ended this year but it aired for 3 seasons and had a major lesbian couple on it.

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No Filter: Hayley Kiyoko Is Writing Another Book!

feature image photo by JC Olivera/Getty Images

Hello and welcome back to No Filter! This is the place where I gather fun Instagram posts from some of our favorite famous queer celebrities! Let’s go!


The Betts anniversary seems to have gone swimmingly!!


Wow — stun me why don’t you!


You gotta scroll to the second slide and watch the clip, this is is my professional decree!


Janelle is having a lot of fun with this spy series! Glass Onion must have left a mark!!


Eminent Virgo Keke Palmer had a stunning birthday party, tell you what!!


Well really what else IS there to say?


Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeesh. (Complimentary)


Lesbian Jesus is blessing us with another book! I love this!


I am conflicted on a pickle chip, I love the idea in theory, but I haven’t found one I like, LOVE? These intrigue me…


This actually made me, like, proud of Chrishell?


One thing Cynthia and I have in common? Love of seals!

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

Join AF+!

Christina Tucker

Christina Tucker is writer and podcaster living in Philadelphia. Find her on Twitter or Instagram!

Christina has written 298 articles for us.

28 LGBTQ+ Women and Trans People Competing in the 2024 Paralympics

It’s been almost three weeks since the end of the Olympic Games. Everyone’s had the opportunity to recalibrate their sleep schedules. We’ve shed that weird sense of nationalism that comes with cheering for your home country, lest it turn into something more insidious. We’ve had time to follow all the athletes that tantalized us — women’s rugby! women’s basketball! gymnastics! — and prepared ourselves to follow them to whatever comes next. Surely, I’m not the only person to buy tickets to Gold Over America, right?

But now that we’ve had a chance to recover, we have an opportunity to do it all again. The Paralympic Games kick off today from Paris and, for the next 12 days, we’ll get to watch some of the world’s greatest athletes compete, across 22 Paralympic sports. I just hope they’ve cleaned the water in the Seine in time for the swimming competition.

As is our wont, we scoured the Paralympic rosters looking for all the queer, trans, and non-binary athletes competing in this year’s games…and we made you a list. We’re added a short write-up about each athlete we found, in hopes of countering what we found was a dearth of information about these incredible Paralympians.

If you’re looking to fawn over these gorgeous athletes support these athletes in their competitions, simply click their names to access their Paralympic.com profile. It should have the most up-to-date scheduling information. Additionally, if you’re interested in learning exactly how a certain Paralympic sport might be different from its Olympic counterpart, check out the applicable sport link.


Josie Aslakson (United States)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

Back in 2021, fresh off a bronze medal finish in Tokyo, the National Wheelchair Basketball Association announced that the U.S. women’s wheelchair basketball team would retain its head coach, Lawrence “Trooper” Johnson. The decision was met with an immediate outcry from past and present members of the team, including Josie Aslakson. Their coach had been emotionally and verbally abusive to his players; their complaint wasn’t the first but it was, undoubtedly, the loudest. Aslakson wrote, “my teammates and I were quieted, demeaned, and manipulated into playing under fear-based leadership.” Three days later, Johnson resigned.

Now, Aslakson is at the forefront of building a new culture in wheelchair basketball, both as a player on the U.S. team and as the coach of Arizona’s women’s wheelchair basketball team.


Nikki Ayers (Australia)

Sport: Para Rowing (PR3 Mixed Double Sculls)

Growing up, rowing was just a hobby for Nikki Ayers. She’d done some surfboat rowing but her big passion was playing rugby. But when an errant tackle shortchanged her rugby career, she turned that hobby into her main focus. Ayers said, “I never thought about not doing anything. I was in the gym with my sister when I was still on crutches. The biggest challenge was overcoming my injury and being able to believe in my potential.”

Ayers will be competing in her second Paralympics game this year and, after finishing fourth in 2020, is eyeing a place on the podium in 2024. It’s hard to imagine she and crewmate Jed Altschwager won’t do better this time after a stellar showing in 2023. They won the World Championship. They broke the world record, twice! They were named Para Crew of the Year and Ayers racked up a host of individual accolades. Can 2024 measure up?


Hailey Danz (United States)

Sport: Para Triathlon (PTS2)

When Hayley Danz arrived at Northwestern University, she was still grappling with her relatively new identity as a someone with a disability. That was hard enough, she surmised, so she focused on that and pushed the questions about her sexuality to the backburner. Danz found triathlon and threw herself into the training, taking part in her first triathlon in July 2011. She found success almost immediately, winning her first World Championship in 2012…and she hasn’t stopped winning since, including two silver medal finishes in the Paralympic Games.

But eventually, Danz realized that hiding her sexuality was weighing her down and it was impacting every facet of her life. She came out in a Instagram post in 2020 and now she’s living her best life with her girlfriend, Hayley Bevan, and with a chance to finally capture that elusive Paralympic gold.


Katie-George Dunlevy (Ireland)

Sport: Para Cycling Road (B Individual Time Trial and and B Road Race) and Para Cycling Track (B Road Race and B 1000m Time Trial)

Back in May, Katie-George Dunlevy and her tandem partner, Eve McCrystal, climbed on their bike at the UCI Paracycling World Cup in Italy, the last of the Paralympic qualification events. Ireland needed points to secure their qualification and, through much of the race, Dunlevy and McCrystal looked ready to secure it. But then, with two laps remaining, the pair went down. Dunlevy screamed out, in excruciating pain. Then she climbed back on the bike and finished the race. The tandem finished in fourth place — two slots behind where they were when the crash happened — and secured Ireland’s Paralympic qualification. Post-race tests revealed that Dunlevy had broken her collarbone.

Dunlevy’s competed in every Paralympic Games since 2014 and every year she’s made steady progress towards the podium. In 2020, she finally capture silver and looks to improve upon that finish this year. With the tenacity she displayed at the World Cup, you’d be foolish to doubt her.


Kaitlyn Eaton (United States)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

Along with her teammates on Team USA, Kaitlyn Eaton is one of the stars of a new docuseries from Outsports and Q.Digital called “Ballin’ Out.” The series focuses on team’s journey — from camp to competition — to the World Championships in Dubai. Surprisingly, though, Eaton doesn’t make the final roster, despite having been a part of the 2020 Paralympic team that won bronze. She admits, “sometimes life really does just get in the way of your dreams and your goals.”

That was the second time Eaton had been cut from the National Team roster. In 2017, she’d been cut but was offered a slot when another player went down with an injury. For a moment, she pondered leaving the sport but, instead recommitted to putting in 100% effort. Clearly, she did the same following that second cut…and now she’s back on Team USA and hoping to get on the podium in Paris.


Anu Francis (Australia)

Sport: Para Triathlon (PTS2)

Shortly before the 2023 World Triathlon Para Series — one of the races for Paralympic qualifying — Anu Francis injured her back. She pressed on and finished in second place. It’s par for the course for Francis, whose relentlessness has always driven her athletic ambitions. Back in 2020, she fell just short of qualifying for the Paralympics in rowing but, determined to become a Paralympian, she transferred into triathlon. Did it matter that she hadn’t ridden a bike since she was a kid? No. Did it matter that she couldn’t swim at all? Nope. Anu Francis was determined to make it to Paris and nothing was going to stand in her way.


Edênia Nogueira Garcia (Brazil)

Sport: Para Swimming (100m Freestyle, 50m Backstroke – S3)

Edênia Garcia had always been a swimmer: she started swimming when she was seven for fun and later as part of her rehabilitation. But in 2000, her father — a bus driver in Natal, Brazil — picked up a young man wearing a Brazilian national team shirt. As it turns out, that young man was Francisco Avelino, a champion swimmer who was in town training for the Paralympic Games. Once she understood what was possible for her, Garcia immediately began training and qualified for her first World Championship in 2002. She’d join that young man from her father’s bus on the Brazilian Paralympic team in 2004. In Paris, Garcia will compete in her sixth Paralympics Games and hope to reclaim a spot on the podium, just as she did 20 years ago.


Bo Kramer (Netherlands)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

As a child, Bo Kramer had dreams of becoming a professional footballer. She didn’t just enjoy the thrill of the games, she loved the preparation. She was invested in doing the work to get better each and every day. Even when cancer cut her footballing dreams short, that drive persisted and, eventually, pushed Kramer to become one of the best wheelchair basketball players in the world. She has won at all levels: the Dutch team are the reigning European, World, and Paralympic champions. Can the Netherlands repeat as gold medalists? With Kramer’s drive pushing them, you’d be foolish to doubt them.


Tara Llanes (Canada)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

The last time Tara Llanes tried to retire — back then, as an accomplished mountain biker and BMX racer — she crashed in her penultimate race. As she recovered, Llanes’ friends pushed her towards Hand Cycling and she excelled at it, winning a national championship. But even though the sport allowed Llanes’ athleticism to shine, her heart wasn’t in it. Perhaps it was too close to what she’d lost. After that, she just stopped — stopped competing, stop doing anything — for five years.

It was Llanes’ then-wife who got her into wheelchair tennis. Then, in an effort to get better at tennis, Llanes started playing wheelchair basketball. Once she started playing, Llanes was hooked and immediately set a goal for herself: “I wanna go to the Paralympics. I wanna play at the height of this sport.”

In Paris, she’ll play at the height of the sport for a second time and afterwards, hopefully with a medal around her neck, she’ll retire properly.


Robyn Love (Great Britain)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

Robyn Love learned a lot from watching Kate and Helen Richardson-Walsh. The British field hockey players were a couple who married in 2013 and won Olympic gold together in 2016. The couple modelled what going public with an intrasquad romance could look like and how to maintain that relationship without disturbing the chemistry of the team. It convinced her to go public with her relationship with her teammate, Laurie Williams. They’ve leveraged social media not only to show what teammates, partners, and now mothers go through…but also disabuse the public of misconceptions they have about disabled people.

Love returns to the Paralympic games after having considered retirement (and, possibly, shifting her focus to her first sporting love, tennis). Thankfully, she reconsidered and helped Great Britain qualify for the Paralympics. Now, she’ll be able to go for gold with her daughter, Alba, watching.


Alana Martins Maldonado (Brazil)

Sport: Para Judo – Women’s -70kg (J2)

Since her debut in 2014, Alana Maldonado has been a dominant force in Para Judo. The four time Para Judoka of the Year is the reigning champion of her weight class, having won the gold in Tokyo. With the win, she became the first Brazilian woman to take home a Paralympic gold. But, in 2023, an ACL tear forced Maldonado to the sidelines for seven months and she’s slipped to #3 in the world rankings. Can she reassert her dominance at the Paralympics? One thing’s for sure: however she does, Maldonado will have her wife — and fellow judoka — Wedja Maldonado cheering her on.


Monique Matthews (United States)

Sport: Sitting Volleyball

Growing up, Monique Matthews had always been athletic, competing in basketball, softball, and track. But following her accident, she didn’t know which way to turn and fell into a malaise. She admits, she “basically laid at home for two years, doing nothing.” But one day, while being fitted for a prosthetic, she saw a brochure for Team USA’s sitting volleyball program…and the rest, as they say, is history. Over her 14 year career, Matthews is building a dynasty as part of USA Volleyball. She has arguably been the best player on the best team during that run, racking up MVP awards and winning Female Sitting Team Player of the Year three times.

The Paris Paralympics will give Matthews a chance at her third gold medal. She’ll be supported by her trans husband, Landon Matthews.


Débora Menezes (Brazil)

Sport: Para Taekwondo (K44 +65kg)

Débora Menezes has always wanted to be a Paralympian. But when Para athletics qualification event was cancelled, dashing her hopes of competing in the 2016 Games, Menezes nearly gave up. She stopped training and was close to ending her sporting career. But her dreams survived that 2016 disappointment and Menezes rededicated herself to chasing Paralympic glory. She turned to taekwondo — a sport that, until then, had just been a hobby for her — and, by 2017, was competing in the World Championships. Menezes comes to Paris this year, hoping to improve on her silver medal finish at the 2020 Paralympic Games in Tokyo.


Mareike Miller (Germany)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

We hear about athletes — and, in particular, female athletes — and ACL (anterior cruciate ligament) tears all the time. They happen, the athlete is forced to take about a year off to have surgery and rehabilitate and then they come back and we hardly remember what happened. But for Mareike Miller, the story goes a little differently: she tore her ACL at 14 years old, had surgery, rehabbed, came back…and then injured her knee again…and again…and again. Eventually, she was forced to give up on her hoop dreams. Or, at least, reimagine them.

A coach introduced her to wheelchair basketball and it fed Miller’s competitive spirit. She made her debut with the German team in 2010 and then went on to win gold at the 2012 Paralympic Games. When she suits up in Paris this year, she’ll be looking to recapture that glory, after second and fourth place finishes in the 2016 and 2020 games, respectively.


Kate O’Brien (Canada)

Sport: Para Cycling Road (C4 Individual Time Trial) and Para Cycling Track (C4-5 500m Time Trial and C4 3000m Individual Pursuit)

Kate O’Brien’s story is one that’s ripe for a movie adaptation. She was a stellar athlete, competing in bobsled, hoping to earn a slot in the Winter Olympics. While learning to pilot the bobsled, she was recruited to Cycling Canada and began to compete on the international circuit in bobsled and track cycling. She excelled at both and, eventually, was named to Canada’s 2016 Olympic team for cycling. A year after competing for Olympic gold, tragedy struck: her back tire blew out during a race and she hit the back of the pacing motorbike in front of her. She nearly died.

Lucky to be alive, doctors told O’Brien all the stuff she’d likely never do again…but she refused to take no for an answer. She persevered. Things aren’t back to “normal;” instead, O’Brien is redefining normal. Now her normal is setting world records in Para Cycling and winning world championships. Now her normal is vying for Paralympic gold with her wife, Meghan, and newborn son, Robin, looking on.


Brenda Osnaya Alvarez (Mexico)

Sport: Para Triathlon (PTWC)

There are athletes who become great, through rigorous training, and those rare athletes who are just gifted with innate athleticism. Brenda Osnaya Alvarez might fall into that latter group. How else do you explain that she has competed in five different paralympic sports — roller skating, swimming, powerlifting, athletics, and now triathlon — and excelled in all of them? Some folks are just built different. This year, Osnaya Alvarez will look to improve on her fifth place finish at the 2020 Paralympic Games.


Cindy Ouellet (Canada)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

In 2020, Cindy Ouellet told part of her story in the pages of her own comic book. “The Adventures of Cindy” recounted her high school years: the cancer treatments and the depression and bullying that followed. With the support of her friends and family, she reclaimed her life and forged a new path in para sports. She began with track and swimming but eventually discovered — and fell in love with — wheelchair basketball. A few years after that discovery, Ouellet was playing the game at the highest levels: competing with Team Canada at the 2008 Paralympics Games. She was just 17.

This year, Ouellet will compete at her fifth Paralympic Games and look to medal for the very first time.


Marie Patouillet (France)

Sport: Para Cycling Road (C5 Individual Time Trial and and C4-5 Road Race) and Para Cycling Track (C5 3000m Individual Pursuit, C4-5 500m Time Trial, and C1-5 750m Team Sprint)

Prior of the start of the Olympic Games, Marie Patouillet took part int he Olympic torch relay in her home country. The opportunity to carry the flame raised her profile and, in turn, gave her a broader platform to share her activism. It’s something she’s done repeatedly in her career: being selective about the companies she works with and the opportunities she takes on, to bolster her cause. Patouillet has long been an outspoken advocate for LGBT rights and anti-discrimination. She wants to spark a conversation about LGBT issues.

“I hope that the (2024) Games in Paris will give rise, or at least be an opportunity for certain athletes, to speak out on these subjects and that, after that, there will be changes on this,” she told Reuters last year.

But none of her activism obscures her success in cycling, though. She won world championships on the road and track and comes to Paris looking to improve on her bronze medal finish in 2020.


Valentina Petrillo (Italy)

Sport: Para Athletics (200m, 400m – T12)

Valentina Petrillo always wanted to compete at the highest levels. At eight years old, she watched fellow Italian, Pietro Mennea, win the gold medal at the Olympics (1980), and decided that that was the future she wanted for herself. But a few years later, she lost her ability to see and her dream seemed dashed. She didn’t start running again for another 27 years, competing and winning multiple sprinting national titles.

But if she was going to compete at the highest levels in the sport, Petrillo wanted to do it as her authentic self. She came out as trans in 2017 and began transitioning two years later. She’ll compete in her first Paralympic Games this year because the World Para Athletics (WPA) allows transgender athletes to compete, if they declare their gender identity and submit a year’s worth of evidence of their testosterone levels.

According to the International Paralympic Committee, contrary to reports, Petrillo is not the first transgender athlete to compete in the Games. This is just the first time so many have chosen to feign outrage about it.


Jaleen Roberts (United States)

Sport: Para Athletics (100m, 200m, Long Jump – T37)

Jaleen Roberts didn’t grow up knowing the Paralympics were a thing. She didn’t know that there were female athletes with disabilities for her to admire. In high school, her track coach introduced her to the Paralympics and educated her about the opportunities that could be available to her. At first, Roberts was reluctant; after all, she’d been competing in able-body sports — basketball, gymnastics, track, and wrestling — for so long. But eventually, she was persuaded. Roberts realized that she could be the female athlete with a disability for the next generation to know and admire.

The road to Paralympic glory hasn’t been easy. Roberts has been candid about her struggles with mental health, in hopes of eliminating the stigma associated with asking for help. Prioritizing all facets of her health helped Roberts earn two silvers in Tokyo and she’ll be looking to improve on that in Paris.


Lucy Robinson (Great Britain)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

Lucy Robinson grew up playing football and had big dreams of achieving stardom on the pitch. But following her injury, she had change her discipline but the dream remained very much the same. She’d attend an open wheelchair basketball event, sponsored by her hometown club, the Leicester Cobras, and found her new calling. Wheelchair basketball gave her the opportunity to feed her competitive spirit and enjoy the same team camaraderie that she’d experienced playing football. She excelled at the sport, winning the World Championships with the Under-24 team in 2018 and capturing a bronze medal with the Under-25 team.

In 2020, Robinson would make her National Team debut at the Tokyo Olympics. She was the youngest member of GB’s team. Now, she returns to the team this year, a wily veteran, looking to improve upon the team’s seventh place finish.


Lauren Rowles MBE (Great Britain)

Sport: Para Rowing (PR2 Mixed Double Sculls)

In 2008, Lauren Rowles’ dream was born. She was transfixed by the Summer Olympics and watched the Athletics events with a keen interest. The British would win eight medals in those track and field events, including Christine Ohuruogu’s comeback win to grab gold in the 400m. Rowles had always loved running…she loved being the fastest at school…so on that day, she scribbled a new dream in her diary: she wanted to be professional runner at the Olympics.

After being diagnosed with a rare neurological condition in 2012, Rowles worried that her dreams might be thwarted but her mother showed her they were still possible. She took Rowles to the 2012 London Paralympics. Seeing others with disabilities convinced Rowles that her dreams were still possible. She’d switch disciplines, taking up rowing in 2015, but quickly excelled at the sport. She’ll be back in Paris this year, looking to claim her third Paralympic gold medal.


Courtney Ryan (United States)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

Growing up, a big part of Courtney Ryan’s identity was being an athlete. Her talents earned her a soccer scholarship and, in her sophomore season, she was named an All-American. When an errant slide tackle left her paralyzed, she thought she’d lost that part of her identity but her family pushed her to consider adaptive athletics. With wheelchair basketball, Ryan reclaimed her identity, thriving at all levels: college, club, and country. The story is etched on her left bicep in a tattoo that also pays tribute to her heritage.

Ryan will compete in her second Paralympic Games this year and hope to add another medal to go along with her 2020 bronze. Her wife and former Arizona State teammate, Molly Bloom, will be cheering her on.


Moran Samuel (Israel)

Sport: Para Rowing (PR1 Women’s Single Sculls)

Moran Samuel was born to compete at the highest levels. Initially, her athletic prowess led to a promising basketball career, so much so that she was called to join the Israel women’s national basketball team. After becoming disabled, Samuel made what seemed like a natural transition to wheelchair basketball…and while she was successful at it, she knew that she’d never get the opportunity to compete at the highest levels. She made the move to Para Rowing, partially because of her wife’s encouragement, but also because she wanted to compete in the Paralympic Games.

Her move has paid dividends. Samuel has been a force in Para Rowing. She returns to the Paralympics for the fourth time this year. Having previously won the silver (2020) and bronze (2016) medals, perhaps this year she can breakthrough and take home the gold.


Lucy Shuker (Great Britain)

Sport: Wheelchair Tennis (Singles and Doubles)

Lucy Shuker didn’t dream of being a Paralympian. She never dreamed of playing in Grand Slam tournaments. All she wanted, following the accident that left her disabled, was a reason to smile again. She wanted to know that the joy in her life hadn’t been lost. She took up wheelchair tennis — at the urging of Paralympic gold medalist, Peter Norfolk — to find that joy again. She said, “[playing tennis] meant I could go and play with my friends and family and it was something that helped me find a way to accept both my accident and my disability.”

But while being a Paralympian and playing in a Grand Slam might not have been the goal, Shuker has done both in her career — multiple times — with great success. This year, Shuker will compete in her fifth Paralympic Games and look to build on her silver medal finish from Tokyo.


Maria “Maz” Strong (Australia)

Sport: Para Athletics (Shot Put – F33)

Maz with the Bronze Medal at AVSL. Photo by Ryk Neethling

Maz Strong’s story is the stuff of fairy tales. They’d been an Athletics official for three years, working local, state, and national competitions. They noticed the camaraderie between the athletes and wanted to experience for themselves. And so, on a whim, they “decided to have a go [themself].” And just like that, Strong wrote a new chapter in their life: this time as an Athletics athlete at the age of 48!

Strong, who identifies as non-binary, earned a slot on Australian’s 2020 Olympic team and won a bronze medal in shot put. In doing so, they broke Australian/Oceanian and Paralympic records. But like a fine wine, Strong keeps getting better with age: last year, they exceeded their Olympic throw and placed second in the World Championships. Can Strong, at 53 years young, continue to outrun Father Time and bring Paralympic gold back to Australia?


Emma Wiggs (Great Britain)

Sport: Para Canoe (Kayak Single 200m and Va’a Single 200m – VL2)

Emma Wiggs’ first Paralympics Games experience wasn’t in Canoe. In 2012, she participated in the Games as part of Great Britain’s Sitting Volleyball Team. It was a disappointing showing for the team — they lost each of their matches in group play — but it ignited a drive in Wiggs to achieve Paralympic success. She switched her focus to Para Canoe soon thereafter and, within a year, she was crowned a World Champion. Since then, she has been one of the most dominant athletes in the sport. She returns to the Paralympics Games looking to defend her 2020 gold medal but without the expectation that she’ll win. She said, “I have never lined up expecting to win and I think that drives me to do everything, every day to make the boat faster. I also just love testing myself to see what we can achieve.”


Laurie Williams (Great Britain)

Sport: Wheelchair Basketball

When Laurie Williams first started competing as a paralympic athlete, she was drawn to wheelchair racing. While competing at the Greater Manchester Youth Games, the wheelchair basketball coach caught her performance and invited her to consider trying a new sport. It was Williams’ first time competing with other disabled kids. The speed she honed as a wheelchair racer paid dividends on the court — they called her “Whippet” — and she quickly found her niche.

Williams also found love on the British Wheelchair Racing team: she met her wife, Robyn, in 2014 when they played together on the national team. She’ll return to Paris, the site of their engagement, looking to finally get Great Britain to the podium.

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Natalie

A black biracial, bisexual girl raised in the South, working hard to restore North Carolina's good name. Lover of sports, politics, good TV and Sonia Sotomayor. You can follow her latest rants on Twitter.

Natalie has written 416 articles for us.

2 Comments

  1. It was Williams’ first time competing with other disabled kids. The speed she honed as a wheelchair racer paid dividends on the court — they called her “Whippet” — and she quickly found her niche.

  2. Marie Patouillet got a silver medal Day 1 and on her interview 5 minutes later said « I’m dedicating this one to my wife » and I knew the Olympics were going to be good.

Comments are closed.

I’ve Always Loved Deception

Nancy Drew computer games were my secret obsession from ages 10 to 18. Similar to the book series, these games led you through spooky PG-13 scenarios following the eponymous neighborhood detective. What I loved about the games, though, was the first-person POV as Nancy. I was suddenly Nancy herself, the girl showing up to creepy mansions in disguise as a tourist, talking to local stakeholders with a sly poker face. It was thrilling to discover and analyze clues, but even more, I got to use these analyses to shift my identities, beliefs, and alliances in the world of the game. In most of these games, winning meant some sort of justice was brought to innocent townspeople or loved ones. The price of relief was deception. Quite literally, deception was the key to winning the game.

I’ve always liked deception reality games because they mimic real life in a heightened way. When The Circle first aired, I quickly became obsessed. Friends and family of mine — most of them straight — condemned me for watching “trash” TV. I got accustomed to making my case for the brilliance of this show. Using a structure that parallels our social media, players must navigate real-world social scenarios to gain trust and popularity. Even the players with the most integrity are put in positions where they must betray allies for the greater good. Alternatively, people playing as “catfish” can be the most honest of the bunch. A “catfish” is anyone playing not as themselves. For example, one player came on the show pretending to be his girlfriend. This could be a strategic move because the warm, bubbly, relatable woman he’s playing could gather in more female friends and attract flirtatious men, two advantages he may not have as a straight cis guy. Other players come in trying to prove a point: I can get more social clout as a skinny, conventionally attractive girl than as myself. The face they give their playing persona could significantly impact how their strategy is perceived.

In my post-Circle lull, friends suggested similar shows. The Mole is an adventure-deception game where players complete James Bond-level missions to earn money. Simultaneously, one undercover “mole” is trying to sabotage missions to lower the prize pot for the other contestants. Playing the mole requires 24/7 acting, strategy, and deception disguised as genuine relationship building. As a regular player, it’s in your best interest to act like the mole to lead others off the trail of who you actually believe is the mole. If people think you’re the mole, they’ll vote for you and get eliminated for being wrong. Even the most honest players have to deceive in order to win.

The Traitors is a campy reality show with a similar structure to The Mole, hosted by the fabulously extravagant Alan Cumming. Set in a mysterious Scottish castle, players are designated as either faithfuls or a traitor. Faithfuls try to uncover who the traitor is to banish them from the castle. Traitors must disguise themselves as faithfuls, all while “murdering” a faithful every night. The traitors are hand-selected by Cumming during the show and must learn how to deceive their peers throughout the course of the game. Traitors try to preserve themselves through genuine connection and game talk. Faithfuls must band together to figure out who could be of harm to the community they’re building in real time.

Countless other reality game shows like The Trust, Survivor, Big Brother, Claim to Fame, Squid Game: The Challenge, and Snake in the Grass operate on the psychology of deception. In real life, deception can sometimes be crucial to survival. I’ve come to realize Nancy Drew sought the same reprieve from deception: life and justice, if not for herself, then for her community. Something in my 13-year-old queer brain resonated with this narrative. As an adult, reality TV shows have similarly reflected back to me the connections between deception and survival in real life.

As queer folks, we must deceive to survive.

Often, we have to come out in harsh political climates or unsafe environments. For those of us who decide to come out, it’s often a decision that living publicly as our authentic selves is more important than the potential danger that comes with it. Before this decision, we have to hide. We have to interact with others, make decisions, and question our core beliefs as undercover agents in our own lives. My younger self deceived family and friends by denying any queerness and remaining silent in the face of homophobic chatter in fear of being discovered. Even now, conversations with new friends can require expert-level psychoanalysis to gauge exactly where they stand on queer people. While I’d like to say I’m out and proud everywhere I go at all times, that is hardly ever the case.

As I begin my career as a therapist, I have to hide parts of myself. Most of my socials are private now. I have to be slightly more careful about what I write for Autostraddle. I work in the outskirts of Central Florida, so I don’t always disclose my identities for my own protection and the well-being of the therapeutic relationship. When I pick up shifts at my various other weekend jobs, I avoid telling people I’m a therapist. Actually, I avoid telling most people I’m a therapist because, unless I’m their therapist or good friend, I don’t have the capacity to offer the free guidance they often want. When looking for school-based counseling jobs, I’ve conveniently left out information on my resume, such as writing for Autostraddle, because I know it could lose me the job. While my philosophy is generally to give myself to places that also want me, working as a QPOC therapist in Florida requires meeting these opportunities with a little deception. Deception for a job could very well mean saving a trans child’s life, which is a strategic move I’ll continue to make as long as I live here.

Sometimes concealing my identity is an act of social justice; sometimes, it’s an act of avoiding judgment. Despite living where I live and doing what I do, I enjoy exposing my identities. In fact, I wish they were more present sometimes. In full transparency, I often conceal who I’m dating in fear of being seen as straight. I strategically swerve questions about significant others or preferences. Biphobia is still pervasive, and I don’t want potential friends and community to exclude me because of a pronoun I mention. I’ve even purposely concealed who I’m dating here in my writing at Autostraddle. I want to keep writing here as a queer person because I am a queer person, but I am still afraid of biphobic pushback from potential bad-faith readers. It’s a move of deception to protect and preserve myself.

We hide parts of ourselves to get what we want. Protecting our own vulnerabilities is an instinctual key to survival. The queer community has expert survival skills because so many of us have experienced being isolated, forced to conform to the context around us. And then, finding queer community is the antidote to deception. When we find each other, we find parts of ourselves. We no longer have to be a secret agent in our own lives. We no longer need to play by the rules of a culture we aren’t part of. Our alliances aren’t only survival-based but maintained by mutual empathy. In an ideal world where queerness isn’t marginalized, maybe we wouldn’t have to deceive to get the job or the money or the social experience. But under capitalism, the patriarchy, and white supremacy, deception — ultimately different from assimilation — will always be a survival tool.

I became who I needed to be for the money or the social currency I knew it would take to get me on a level playing field. Working as a therapist for queer youth in Florida, I often have to play as the mole to get my clients the resources I need. In efforts to form my own queer community here, I consistently play a game of The Circle, casting myself as a queer, edgy top who definitely doesn’t have a boyfriend. In family dynamics and work relationships, I attempt to be a faithful for as long as I can until a piece of information more important than my own identity or allegiances means turning over to the traitors’ side.

Deception reality TV gives us a (mostly) harmless guidebook to manipulating your way to the finish line, whether that finish line is a job, a raise, access, or unlocking a more authentic version of you by leading you to the people who actually see you under the disguise. Just like in real life, many winners of these reality shows win through human connection and empathy. Deception is far more complicated than just “lying.” Reality TV reflects the balance of cunning and comfort often necessary to achieve queer excellence and survival.


UNDER COVER with underwear

This piece is part of UNDER COVER, an Autostraddle editorial series releasing in conjunction with For Them’s underwear drop.

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

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Em Win

Originally from Toledo, Ohio, Em now lives in Los Angeles where she does many odd jobs in addition to writing. When she's not sending 7-minute voice messages to friends and family, she enjoys swimming, yoga, candle-making, tarot, drag, and talking about the Enneagram.

Em has written 75 articles for us.

4 Comments

  1. Fascinating, relevant read. I am also in grad school to become a therapist, transitioning from a career where I was very public.

    I work psychoanalytically, and the concept of disclosure is much debated in the field.

    One question I have pondered quite a bit is how much of me is in the details of my life, and how much is in my personality/how I exist in the world. Obviously, they co-exist, but if a patient/client doesn’t know details about my personal life, does that mean they don’t know me? Am I deceiving them, or am I centering them?

    You have an excellent Freudian slip-typo in your essay, which I’m going to read too much into because it very poetically answers the question:

    “Working as a therapist for queer youth in Florida, I often have to play as the mole to get my clients the resources I need.”

    Are they your needs or your client’s needs? As you know, the therapist’s use of disclosure, awareness of our countertransference, etc. is for the client’s benefit, not for ours.

    My thoughts about limiting disclosure online is that it exists outside the therapeutic relationship. Because a client/patient is learning about the therapist on their own, and we may not know. It’s playing with the frame of the therapy, removing the therapy room and the therapeutic relationship from the therapy.

    Maintaining a more private presence, especially online, doesn’t feel like deception to me. It feels like privacy. I can absolutely see how it feels like being in the closet, but I think the point of the deception in shows like The Mole or Traitors is to mislead others, so the mole/traitor can take advantage of them and personally benefit from it.

    • I liked this and related to the commentary biphobia both within and outside the queer community. I have also avoided mentioning who I was dating, particularly if they were men, in order to avoid bi erasure and help find queer community.

      I work in a conservative and male dominated field (math academia) and certainly find maintaining some privacy/deception is protective.

  2. Maintaining a more private presence, especially online, doesn’t feel like deception to me. It feels like privacy. I can absolutely see how it feels like being in the closet, but I think the point of the deception in shows like The Mole or Traitors is to mislead others, so the mole/traitor can take advantage of them and personally benefit from it.

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Kate Hawkins

Kate Hawkins is a city-loving Californian currently residing in New Hampshire with her wife and toddler, where she's currently enjoying sports that require unwieldy pieces of equipment (kayaking! biking! cross country skiing!) and grilling lots of corn. She's stoked to be writing puzzles for Autostraddle and hopes you enjoy solving these gay puzzles!

Kate has written 59 articles for us.

Julia Fox Will Play a Pregnant Woman in an Age Gap Sapphic Romance in Upcoming Film Appropriately Titled ‘Perfect’

feature image photo by Rachpoot/Bauer-Griffin / Contributor via Getty Images

Julia Fox recently came out publicly as a lesbian, and now she’s set to be queer on-screen. Variety reports Fox will play a wealthy pregnant woman who falls in love with a younger woman, played by Ashley Moore. To me? This casting news sounds perfect. And indeed, the film will be titled Perfect.

Perfect takes place in a “scenic-but-rundown lakeside resort in the California mountains,” according to Variety, and this is all starting to sound kind of familiar! Ah, yes, Chrishell Stause also was cast in a film not too long after coming out in which she also played a pregnant queer woman and which also took place largely in a remote mountain town. That was a Lifetime film though, and no shade to Chrishell or Lifetime, but Perfect sounds a bit more layered and interesting. It will contend with climate change, as the mountain town it’s set in has a contaminated water supply as a result of environmental crisis. The relationship between the two women sounds like it won’t be all rainbows and sunshine, as their values are misaligned about the state of the world and its future. In any case, given this weird overlap in Fox and Stause’s arcs, I now declare that any time a famous woman comes out as queer, she should immediately play a queer pregnant woman in a film set in a mountain town. This should be its own film canon.

Fox as evil wealthy mommi? Yes, please! I’m editorializing a bit with the “evil” classification, but I’m simply reading between the lines of the scant details reported in Variety. The film marks the feature debut for director Millicent Hailes, who has directed music videos for queer artists like Billie Eilish, Fletcher (including THE “Becky’s So Hot” video), and Tinashe. Lío Mehiel of Mutt is also reportedly in talks of joining the cast!

Fox of course won audiences over with her standout performance in Uncut Gems, a movie title I’m incapable of pronouncing in any way other than her signature pronunciation (COMPLIMENTARY!!!!!!). I’ve been eager to see Fox in a film again, especially since she came out and therefore became immediately more fascinating to me. Perfect begins production next month, but I’m already seated. Meanwhile, we’ll next see Fox in Steven Soderbergh’s psychological horror film Presence, in which she co-stars alongside Lucy Liu (also already seated for this one) and Jordan Peele’s psychological horror/football film Him. Is Fox going from It Girl to Scream Queen? Would love!

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Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya

Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya is the managing editor of Autostraddle and a lesbian writer of essays, short stories, and pop culture criticism living in Orlando. She is the assistant managing editor of TriQuarterly, and her short stories appear or are forthcoming in McSweeney's Quarterly Concern, Joyland, Catapult, The Offing, and more. Some of her pop culture writing can be found at The A.V. Club, Vulture, The Cut, and others. You can follow her on Twitter or Instagram and learn more about her work on her website.

Kayla has written 886 articles for us.

1 Comment

  1. Sapphic Julia fox? Finally! Sucks I won’t be able to get turned on if she’s preg go in the movie but it’ll be interesting to see another lesbian age gap relationship gay guys get to have all the fun

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Vote Now in the 7th Annual Autostraddle TV Awards!

On September 15, the second Emmys of 2024 will take place. That’s because the ceremony that occurred in January was delayed from last summer due to the strikes. Our Autostraddle TV Awards were created as a response to — and an expanse beyond  — these official awards so we’ve followed suit. We, too, are back on schedule and ready to celebrate the queer TV of 2023/2024.

The boom of queer TV that began in the 2010s has subsided. Fewer gay shows are being produced and the ones that do slip through are often canceled. But that makes it all the more important to celebrate the work that does get made. There is still so much incredible work airing each year and we hope these awards will remind you of the best series you’ve seen and the best series you still need to check out.

Trust us: Once you have to vote in some of these categories, you’ll realize there’s still a lot to choose between.

How it Works: For the past few weeks, the knowledgeable and passionate queer critics who make up our TV Team have collaborated on a lengthy process to determine the year’s nominees in each of our Autostraddle TV Awards categories. We have 22 whole categories, and while there is some overlap with the Emmys, we also feature our own original categories that celebrate LGBTQ+ achievements — including awards specifically for out performers — as well as awards for other parts of the television landscape that don’t often get love from mainstream awards systems, like genre television. We took a massive list of potential nominees and voted to narrow that down to just six nominees per category — except in cases where there were ties and there are seven nominees… or, occassionally, eight.

Now, it’s your turn to help us pick the winners. Individual Autostraddle readers can vote once in each category. Your votes will be combined with the TV Team’s final votes to choose the winners.

There are also three fan-favorite categories that YOU get to decide completely yourselves! Those categories are Fan Favorite Couples, Fan Favorite Character, and Fan Favorite Out Queer Actor.

We follow the same rules as the Emmys as far as timeline, which means the shows must have aired between June 1, 2023 and May 31, 2024 in order to be eligible. While the show’s full season does not need to have aired during that range, most of its episodes must have aired. We also follow Emmy submissions in determining what counts as a drama vs. a comedy.

Here is your official ballot!

Voting is now open and will close on Wednesday, September 4 at 5p.m. EST. The winners will be announced on September 12.


AND THE NOMINEES FOR THE 7TH ANNUAL AUTOSTRADDLE TV AWARDS ARE…

Outstanding Drama Series photos of the nominees

Expats (Prime Video)
Mary & George (Starz)
Riverdale, season 7 (The CW)
A Murder at the End of the World (Hulu)
The Other Black Girl (Hulu)
Under the Bridge (Hulu/FX)

Outstanding Comedy Series photos of the nominees

Deadloch, season 1 (Prime Video)
Hacks, season 3 (Max)
Minx, season 2 (Max)
Reservation Dogs, season 3 (FX)
Sex Education, season 4 (Netflix)
Sort Of, season 3 (HBO Max)
Such Brave Girls, season 1 (Hulu)
We Are Lady Parts, season 2 (Peacock)

Outstanding Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Horror Series photos of the nominees

The Fall of the House of Usher (Netflix)
Gen V, season 1 (Prime Video)
The Horror of Dolores Roach, season 1 (Prime Video)
Monarch: Legacy of Monsters (Apple)
Our Flag Means Death, season 2 (Max)
Quantum Leap, season 2 (NBC)

Outstanding Animated Series photos of the nominees

Harley Quinn, season 4 (Max)
Hazbin Hotel, season 1 (Prime Video)
Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur, season 2 (Disney+)
Scott Pilgrim Takes Off (Netflix)
The Second Best Hospital in the Galaxy (Prime Video)
Star Trek: Lower Decks, season 4 (Paramount+)

Outstanding Lead Actor Playing an LGBTQ+ Character in a Drama Series Photos of the nominees

Sophie Wilde as Mia, Everything Now
Ji-young Yoo as Mercy, Expats
Yasmin Finney as Elle Argent, Heartstopper
Julianne Moore as Mary, Mary & George
Emma Corrin as Darby, A Murder at the End of the World
Lili Reinhart as Betty, Riverdale
Lily Gladstone as Cam Bentland, Under the Bridge

Outstanding Supporting or Guest Actor Playing an LGBTQ+ Character in a Drama Series Photos of the nominees

Lauren Patton as Anna, Death and Other Details
Madelaine Petsch as Cheryl, Riverdale
Vanessa Morgan as Toni Topaz, Riverdale
Laysla De Oliveira as Cruz Manuelos, Special Ops: Lioness
Danielle Savre as Maya Bishop, Station 19
Maia Reficco as Noa, Pretty Little Liars: Summer School
Isabella LaBlanc as Leah Danvers, True Detective: Night Country

Outstanding Lead Actor Playing an LGBTQ+ Character in a Comedy Series photos of the nominees

Kate Box as Dulcie Collins, Deadloch
Paula Pell as Gloria, Girls 5 Eva
Hannah Einbinder as Ava, Hacks
Bilal Baig as Sabi Mehboob, Sort Of
Kat Sadler as Josie, Such Brave Girls
Juliette Motamed as Ayesha, We Are Lady Parts

Outstanding Supporting or Guest Actor Playing an LGBTQ+ Character in a Comedy Series photos of the nominees

Poppy Liu as Grace, The Afterparty
Nava Mau as Terri, Baby Reindeer
Helen Hunt as Winnie Landell, Hacks
Jessica Lowe as Bambi, Minx
Lennon Parham as Shelly, Minx
Jonica Blu Booth as Duke, Rap Sh!t
Dua Saleh as Cal Bowman, Sex Education

Outstanding Performance by an Out LGBTQ+ Actor in a Drama photos of the nominees

Midori Francis Iwama in Grey’s Anatomy
Emma Corrin in A Murder at the End of the World
Lili Reinhart in Riverdale
Jodie Foster in True Detective: Night Country
Aiyana Goodfellow in Under the Bridge
Lily Gladstone in Under the Bridge

Outstanding Performance by an Out LGBTQ+ Actor in a Comedy photos of the nominees

Jessica Gunning in Baby Reindeer
Nava Mau in Baby Reindeer
Ayo Edebiri in The Bear
Paula Pell in Girls5Eva
Jonica Blu Booth in Rap Sh!t
Devery Jacobs in Reservation Dogs
Bilal Baig in Sort Of

Outstanding Lead Actor Playing an LGBTQ+ Character in a Sci-Fi/Fantasy Series

Lena Heady as Aster Calyx, Beacon 23
Carla Gugino as Verna, The Fall of the House of Usher
Jaz Sinclair as Marie, Gen V
Justina Machado as Dolores Roach, The Horror of Dolores Roach
Anna Sawai as Cate Randa, Monarch: Legacy of Monsters
Rosamund Pike as Moiraine Damodred, The Wheel of Time

Outstanding Supporting or Guest Actor Playing an LGBTQ+ Character in a Sci-Fi/Fantasy Series

T’nia Miller as Victorine LaFourcade, The Fall of the House of Usher
Kate Siegel as Camille L’Espanaye, The Fall of the House of Usher
Derek Luh and London Thor as Jordan, Gen V
Shioli Kutsuna as Mitsuki Yamato, Invasion
Kiersey Clemons as May, Monarch: Legacy of Monsters
Vico Ortiz as Jim Jimenez, Our Flag Means Death

Outstanding LGBTQ+ Actor in a Sci-Fi/Fantasy Show

Kate Mara in Black Mirror
Devery Jacobs in Echo
Kate Siegel in The Fall of the House of Usher
Kiersey Clemons in Monarch: Legacy of Monsters
Celia Rose Gooding in Star Trek: Strange New Worlds
Stephanie Beatriz in Twisted Metal

Outstanding LGBTQ+ Director / Writer / Showrunner

Brittani Nichols for Abbott Elementary
Devery Jacobs for Reservation Dogs
Erica Tremblay for Reservation Dogs
Bilal Baig for Sort Of
Kat Sadler for Such Brave Girls
Quinn Shephard for Under the Bridge

Outstanding Reality TV Series

The Ultimatum: Queer Love (Netflix)
Real Housewives of New York (Bravo)
The Traitors, season 2 (Peacock)
Couple to Throuple, season 1 (Peacock)
RuPaul’s Drag Race, season 16 (Paramount+)
Tournament of Champions (Food Network)
Top Chef: Wisconsin (Bravo)

Santana Lopez Legacy Award For Outstanding Queer Teen Character

Mia, Everything Now
Quinn, Heartbreak High
Jukebox, Power Book III: Raising Kanan
Noa, Pretty Little Liars: Summer School
Cheryl Blossom, Riverdale
Cal, Sex Education

Best Episode with LGBTQ+ Themes

Expats 105: “Central”
Hacks 308: “Bulletproof”
Minx 207: “God closes a door, opens a glory hole”
Rap Sh!t 208: “Under Construction”
Riverdale 720: “Chapter 137” (finale)
Under the Bridge 103: “Blood Oath”

Most Groundbreaking Representation

Everything Now
Heartbreak High
Reservation Dogs
Sex Education
Sort Of
We Are Lady Parts

Outstanding Performance by a Straight Actress in a Straight Role

Janelle James as Ava Coleman, Abbott Elementary
Sheryl Lee Ralph as Barbara Howard, Abbott Elementary
Liza Colon-Zayas as Tina, The Bear
Michelle Yeoh as Mama Sun, The Brothers Sun
Sarayu Blue as Hilary Starr, Expats
Anjana Vasan as Amina, We Are Lady Parts

Outstanding Cis Male Character

Tyler James Williams as Gregory in Abbot Elementary
Lionel Boyce as Marcus Brooks in The Bear
Ebon Moss-Bachrach as Richie in The Bear
Paul W. Downs as Jimmy Lusaque, Jr. in Hacks
Billy Crudup as Cory Ellison in The Morning Show
Harris Dickinson as Bill in A Murder at the End of the World

Outstanding Hairstyling for an LGBTQ+ Character

Karoline as Eleanor Chun styled by Nina Adado and Jessica Rain, Death and Other Details
Jaz Sinclair as Marie Moreau styled by Charleen Shillingford, Gen V
Natasha Behnam as Lola Rahaii styled by Kat Drazen, The Girls on the Bus
Sofía Vergara as Griselda styled by Ketty Gonzalez and Dennis Parker, Griselda
Emma Corrin as Darby styled by Monique Gaffney and Joshua Gericke, A Murder at the End of the World
Anthony Lexa as Abbi Montgomery styled by Emily Bilverstone and Laura McDowell, Sex Education

Outstanding Costume Design for a Show With LGBTQ+ Characters

Giovanni Lipari, Sheena Napier, and Kate Carrin, The Buccaneers
Terry Anderson, The Fall of the House of Usher
Annie Symons, Mary & George
Marie Schley, Minx
Daniella Pearman, Sex Education
Marie Schley, Survival of the Thickest


To vote in the above categories as well as the THREE SPECIAL FAN FAVORITE CATEGORIES*, go forth and:

VOTE IN THE AUTOSTRADDLE TV AWARDS!!!

*When voting in the fan favorite categories, please keep the eligibility guidelines in mind and only nominate couples/characters/actors who appeared in shows that aired between June 1, 2023 and May 31, 2024. Otherwise your vote will be wasted!

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

Join AF+!

The TV Team

The Autostraddle TV Team is made up of Riese Bernard, Carmen Phillips, Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya, Valerie Anne, Natalie, Drew Burnett Gregory, and Nic. Follow them on Twitter!

The TV has written 233 articles for us.

‘I Haven’t Felt a Spark With Anyone Since My Ex’

Q:

At what point should you feel the *spark* with someone? I’ve been in a lot of situations where I’ve gotten to date three, four, or five with someone, and we’re vibing, and I enjoy spending time with them. In some of these situations, we’ve hooked up, too, and it’s usually good! But there’s also something…missing? And it prevents me from taking the next step with them or continuing to go on dates, but then I get frustrated because like what if they actually were great for me and the spark was coming but just hadn’t quite yet? Is the SPARK even a thing? I go back and forth on this myself, but I think a big part of why I keep coming back to it is because I had that spark with my ex. She was the first girl I was ever with, and she has set an impossibly high bar for others, because whatever that spark is, we had it, and we had it right away. And I haven’t felt it with anyone else, not even close. Our breakup sucked, but it wasn’t like a BAD breakup. She just had to move to a different state for a job, and I didn’t want to move or do long distance. We don’t really talk anymore because it was too hard. I miss her, but I also have done a lot of work on myself to move forward. I’m ready to date!

I want a relationship. I’m a very romantic person, maybe too romantic sometimes. I think I’m pretty good at dates. I just I guess don’t know what I’m looking for, exactly. Because I guess you can’t look for…some abstract feeling you get when you’re with another person that’s hard to describe. Should I give up on this idea of a spark entirely? Should I settle for dating someone even if it doesn’t feel the same way it did before with my ex? I think sometimes I struggle to differentiate between friendship chemistry and romantic chemistry, though I want both. And is it leading someone on to keep repeatedly seeing them and going on dates if I’m unsure about them?

A:

I feel like this is a breakup question disguised as a dating a question — or, at least, it’s both. I think it’s great that you’ve done work on yourself following the breakup with your first girlfriend. I can tell even just from your letter that you’re dealing with this quite maturely and well and it sounds like there isn’t resentment or negative feelings there. Also, kudos to you for making the tough but ultimately healthy decision to break up when you knew long distance or a move wasn’t going to work for you. A lot of people would have sacrificed their own wants just to continue a relationship that ultimately would be a bit doomed if that big of a sacrifice were being made. Great work!

Now, you might be over your ex, but you’re not over the way she made you feel. You felt a spark! I can sit here and pretend there’s no such thing as a spark, but I know what you mean. There’s a different vibration I feel with certain people — sometimes even in a friendship context! I can meet a new friend and immediately know oh this is someone I’m going to be very good friends with for a very long time.

Let’s actually follow that example of my friendships. Nine times out of ten, I’m usually right about that gut instinct. Every once in a while, I feel that energy with a new friend but it turns out we’re not well matched after all. But even more common than that situation, sometimes there are new people who enter my life who I don’t feel that gut feeling with and who then become my very, very good friends over time. Not all relationships should burn quick and bright; some take time, effort, and just growth and nurturing. I think the same thing applies to romantic relationships.

You’re going to set yourself up for dating failure if you’re constantly comparing the feelings you have with these new people to the feelings you had with your ex. That was your FIRST girlfriend. I hate to break it to you, but it’s possible nothing will ever feel quite like that again! First love is a one time thing, and it’s potent! Queerness makes that even more intense sometimes. I don’t know your coming out story or background, but a lot of times first queer love can feel especially magical because it’s also the first time we’re really coming into ourselves and desires.

You’re not leading anyone on by going on a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, etc. date even if you’re unsure about your chemistry with them. If they ask you a question directly, like, ‘do you see this going further’ or ‘would you like to be exclusive,’ be honest about your feelings, even if those feelings are uncertain — say that! It’s then on the other person to decide if they want to continue seeing someone who is unsure about them. So long as you’re being honest, you’re not doing anything wrong. It can take time to cultivate chemistry; I think it’s a fallacy to believe it’s always there right from the start. And chemistry down-the-line can be just as powerful and long-lasting as chemistry felt right away — sometimes more so! Because it comes with a lot of investment and dedication.

As for not being able to differentiate between friendship chemistry and romantic chemistry, that’s pretty common! It’s also why there are plenty of real-life occurrences of friends-to-lovers or even lovers-to-friends. Different forms of intimacy can overlap. I think my advice would be to not get too in your head about trying to make those distinctions when you’re actively seeing someone and instead focus on just getting to know them better and being yourself. I know it’s hard to get out of your head when it comes to dating, but if it helps to externalize your thoughts/anxieties in order to let them go, try journaling or chatting with friends prior to dates about what your expectations and feelings are.

Every relationship is different. Every time we fall for someone, it feels a little different. That isn’t a bad thing, and it doesn’t diminish some connections in relation to others. It’s going to be difficult to find the romance you’re looking for if you’re constantly comparing your present emotions to past ones. Take the final step toward getting over your ex by refusing to compare new romantic prospects to her or to the way you feel.


You can chime in with your advice in the comments and submit your own questions any time.

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

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Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya

Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya is the managing editor of Autostraddle and a lesbian writer of essays, short stories, and pop culture criticism living in Orlando. She is the assistant managing editor of TriQuarterly, and her short stories appear or are forthcoming in McSweeney's Quarterly Concern, Joyland, Catapult, The Offing, and more. Some of her pop culture writing can be found at The A.V. Club, Vulture, The Cut, and others. You can follow her on Twitter or Instagram and learn more about her work on her website.

Kayla has written 886 articles for us.

1 Comment

  1. I related to this a lot and want to say in my experience: the spark is real, and it is okay to want it, and it will almost definitely happen again at some point, and then you will look back on all the okay dates like OH that’s what that was missing.

    The line that stuck out to me in your question was “I think I’m pretty good at dates”. I relate! I am also pretty good at dating, I make people feel comfortable, I talk to most people easily, I have fun a lot of the time, I can generate sexual energy and have good sex. This leads me to think with a lot of people: this is good, why does it also feel like work? For me, the answer is that I am thinking about the person I can be for the other person, rather than being in touch with my own desires, because somewhere along the way I was taught that it’s too much to ask for what I really want. Which is that intangible chemistry, that “oh my god, I need them to write me back now”, the butterflies, the perennially horny daze of a new relationship that makes you FEEL EVERYTHING.

    It’s hard when you want a relationship, but I will also say: it’s okay to want the spark! It’s also fine to have hookups and dates in the meantime, knowing they are not that, so long as you are honest about where you’re at. But you are not weird or too much for wanting more and believing that thing exists.

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Chappell Roan Isn’t Alone in Wanting More Boundaries With Fans

Chappell Roan and Hayley Williams Are Rightfully Fed Up with Parasocial Relationships with Fans

Chappell Roan and Hayley Williams

Photos from Chappell Roan’s tiktok and Hayley Williams’ instagram, feature image photo by Stephen J. Cohen/Getty Images

Paramore’s Hayley Williams says she’s glad Chappell Roan is speaking up and setting boundaries about “superfan” behavior, often brushed off as acceptable. Williams also rightly points out that this happens a lot, specifically with women.

A few days ago, Chappell Roan made two separate TikTok videos saying that she’s allowed to set boundaries with fans, especially when she’s “off the clock” and not at a fan event. Just because someone has seen her videos online or bought her album or been to her concert doesn’t entitle them to her time, space, or anything else. She said that just because it’s been “normalized” doesn’t mean it’s right. She says people will say it’s the price of fame, but she posits that it shouldn’t be.

To some extent, this kind of thing has always been a problem — Jodie Foster had a terrifying stalker incident in the 80s, for example, and I’m positive it wasn’t the first instance — but it has become increasingly problematic with the prevalence of the internet and social media. People develop parasocial relationships with celebrities and don’t know how to act around them. Reneé Rapp has had to repeatedly request people chill out with the sexually explicit signs they bring to her concert. Chappell Roan has even gone so far to explain why she has a specific drag persona for when she performs, but people are still finding out where her sister works and harassing her family. I’m not sure what they think it will accomplish, but it has to stop. It’s especially embarrassing that this keeps happening within the queer community; we of all people, who have been asked invasive questions by straight and/or cis people about our sex lives and bodies upon first meeting, should know how to respect these lines. We’re a community who often touts the importance of physical and emotional boundaries and consent of all kinds, so why do some people seem to forget to apply that to celebrities? Why are people saying outlandish things to them, or launching into a hug without asking first? It’s baffling.

In her follow-up Instagram post, Chappell Roan rightfully pointed out that this is dangerously close to the kind of victim-blaming we see happening when people, especially women and LGBTQ+ people of all genders, are assaulted in any way. Most musicians and actors aren’t doing their craft to get famous; of course, fame helps them get sales and jobs and awards, but it’s not typically the reason they’re doing it. They’re usually doing it for the love of the art.

Chappell Roan wasn’t saying don’t go to meet and greets. She wasn’t even saying you can’t politely ask for a photo if you happen to walk by her on the street. She’s asking you to a) not touch her without consent, b) be polite and respectful if she turns you down, c) leave her friends and family alone, and d) respect her boundaries. Musicians and actors do not owe you their time, their bodies, or anything else. If you buy tickets to a concert or a play, they owe you a performance. That’s it. End of list.

I hope this is a turning point in the way we treat celebrities. I hope people will stop interrupting family dinners at restaurants and trying to gain access to people’s lives in a way that must be absolutely terrifying. I hope people learn how to just enjoy the art and the artist and remember that they are real people who you don’t actually know. Appreciate the parts of themselves they are sharing with you, and be respectful of the parts they are not.


Information about Celebrities They Consented to Us Knowing

+ Blake Lively’s next movie is going to be a sapphic horror movie, though after the PR cycle for It Ends with Us, I’m not sure this is good news

+ Drag Race’s Detox has come out as trans, and uses she/they pronouns

+ Lady Gaga seems to have new music up her sleeve, and is fantasizing about releasing it all at once

+ Emilia Perez, starring trans actor Karla Sofía Gascón alongside Zoe Saldaña and Selena Gomez, is being described as a “queer crime musical” – which is all the information I need to ensure I’ll be seated for it https://

+ Season 3 will be the last for Bridget Everett’s Somebody Somewhere

+ Rotten Tomatoes is taking steps to help avoid review-bombing, which we all know is often targeted at LGBTQ+ films, and other movies that feature or highlight marginalized communities

+ I didn’t know who this TikTok lesbian was until she was being canceled, but apparently a petition is calling for Sedona Prince to be cut from her college basketball team

+ Someone rudely trademarked Jools Lebron’s “Very demure, very mindful” phrase before she could

+ Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore’s new movie The Room Next Door drops a trailer devoid of dialogue, excepting a bit of screaming

Megan Thee Stallion will be hosting the MTV Music Video Awards https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/megan-thee-stallion-2024-mtv-video-music-awards-host-1235085545/

+ Ted Lasso might be coming back for another season?? To be honest, I didn’t know this was an option, I thought the best we’d get was a spin-off, but I’m a cautiously optimistic even though Season 3 wasn’t my favorite of the show’s history

+ Drew Barrymore is going to try to not do interviews from her guests’ laps anymore

+ Reneé Rapp’s performance at the Reading Festival was interrupted by bad weather, which she was none too pleased about

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Valerie Anne

Just a TV-loving, Twitter-addicted nerd who loves reading, watching, and writing about stories. One part Kara Danvers, two parts Waverly Earp, a dash of Cosima and an extra helping of my own brand of weirdo.

Valerie has written 582 articles for us.

1 Comment

  1. “Chappell Roan wasn’t saying don’t go to meet and greets. She wasn’t even saying you can’t politely ask for a photo if you happen to walk by her on the street.” Just so you’re aware I think this is contradictory to Chappell’s written statement. She wants to be left alone when not in work mode. She gives herself to fans during album creation, on stage, work events and in interviews. Any other time, including when you see Chappell on the street, she shouldn’t be asked for photos, autographs or for her time. Just don’t want to spread the misinformation. We should accept her understable boundaries.

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You Have Texas Queers To Thank for Roller Derby

On a Saturday in July, my girlfriend and I decided to try something other than ordering Taco Bell and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, by buying tickets to Austin’s local roller derby league. I had known about TXRD (Texas Roller Derby, if you can imagine) since I’d first moved to Texas, but did what I always do with cool events, which is talk about how much I want to go to an event without ever going to one. So I decided, in my last couple months in Texas, to finally give it a go. It only took 15 seconds into the game before I turned to my girlfriend and said, “I think I’m in love with this sport.”

According to its website, TXRD “has been wowing crowds since breathing new life into the sport of roller derby in 2001.” Comprised currently of five teams — the Holy Rollers (yes, the very same Holy Rollers as Whip It’s villains), the Putas del Fuego, the Hellcats, the Rhinestones, and the as-yet undefeated Cherry Bombs — the league draws in wildly enthralled crowds with the same frenetic energy as any major league sport. “To give a little perspective,” says Anya Marx (she/her), TXRD’s public relations manager and a team member of the Cherry Bombs, “I played in a league in Orlando, and we were lucky if we had 30 people come, and most of them were our parents. That is not the case here – we have 1000 people come to our games, so we feel a responsibility to put on a good show.”

The energy Anya describes is not exaggeration: at the July game I attended, held at the Palmer Events Center just across the river from downtown Austin, I was overwhelmed by the crowd’s size and fervor. We saw fans not just in merch but dressed in goofy, glittering costumes. (Queens in nun drag or people wearing rosaries for the Holy Rollers, devil horns and flame-emblazoned booty shorts for Putas del Fuego.) The MC of the game was dressed in a fairytale Renaissance Faire getup complete with lavender-painted skin and large plastic horns. The only other athletic event this felt comparable to was a queer pro-wrestling league match I saw months earlier in downtown Austin. At both the marriage of true athleticism with absurd theatrics was on display — and clearly welcomed by the hundreds of fans in the DIY stands. Little girls ran around, throwing their bodies at one another in a childlike facsimile of what they saw on the track. They, alongside the adults, were just as invested in the outcome, shouting the names of skaters as they sped past, cheering for them and giggling when the skaters waved their way. It was evident for most in attendance, this was not a one-off try at something new; this was a lifestyle, an identity, a community.

A group of queer smile as they bump into each other on a roller derby rink.

Photo by Matt Charnitski

Roller derby may not have been invented in Austin, but it’s clear its contemporary culture was. Innovated in the 1930s by Leo Seltzer and Damon Runyon as a co-ed sport, contemporary interpretations of derby have TXRD to thank. While there’s no concrete historical record to point to, several sources credit the Austin-based league with reviving the sport in the early 2000s. While Austin nowadays is not quite the weird oasis it once was (now bars are crowded with Tesla tech bros playing at being cowboys), the spirit of the city as a purveyor of punk rings perhaps no truer than derby’s origins.

According to Milla Juke-a-Bitch (she/her), TXRD’s league historian, performance director, and also a member of the Cherry Bombs, the origin story of derby in Texas plays well into the city’s “Keep Austin Weird” roots. A man known by no name other than “Devil Dan” sought to develop the league, finding interested players in 6th Street regulars and splitting their teams along the bars they frequented. When it became clear this instant moneymaker was anything but, the mysterious organizer vanished from Austin. However, the eagerness of the players remained. When asked how the formation of the league has evolved into what it is today, 23 years later, Milla bluntly says: “It’s been this constant building of ‘What the hell are we doing, and how do we do it right?’”

Since 2001, the league has explored many iterations of itself, through constant reinvention, and a fierce dedication to a love of the game. “All the skaters that are a part of the league are the ones running it,” Milla continues. As is customary for most roller derby leagues, TXRD is entirely skater-owned and operated, and has been from the get-go. “The track you see, we built that: we set it up, we tear it down, we take it back to our warehouse [at the end of games],” says Anya. “The skaters in some instances who are skating that day are building that track, so often we have 12-plus hours of building up that track and taking it down after and driving it to Buda. So everything you see is orchestrated by someone in the league, and likely someone skating that night.” (For reference, Buda is about 30 minutes south of Austin.)

It’s clear that for all the fun of the league, it is not fun that comes lightly. When a skater is admitted into the league, they pay a $10 buy-in to own part of the business that is TXRD. It is welcomed and expected for skaters to be involved beyond skating — the league is reliant on the physical and mental dedication of its participants to keep it running. Milla remarks that without this work, the league would not be sustainable, and so therefore “you do the work so you can…continue doing what you like to do.” For many members of the league, being a part of TXRD is both the first time they are skating and the first time they are taking on the roles of business owners. Members who had never put on skates and struggled with math may within a short amount of time be an expert on the track and on QuickBooks. The league’s translatability into “real-life skills” cannot be understated.

“Definitely a hobby that is like a part-time job,” says Scrapegoat (they/he), a member of both the local Rhinestones and All Scar Army, TXRD’s travel team. They also serve on the D&I and Production Committees.

Jose Queervo (they/them), TXRD’s facilities coordinator, Roller Rookies manager, and also a Rhinestone, agrees: “I’ve developed skills that I would have never imagined, and honestly probably wouldn’t have developed otherwise, from leadership and conflict resolution to written communication and community organizing. I’ve learned everything from marketing strategy to how to drive a box truck, from how to catch a loose bird in a building to how to assemble and disassemble our track. I could do it with my eyes closed!”

While it is typical for most roller derby leagues to be skater-owned, what is not typical about TXRD is, well, quite a lot else. Firstly, while the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA) boasts over 400 leagues across the world, the Roller Derby Coalition of Leagues (RDCL) – which supports much rarer banked tracks – claims only eight. While not part of RDCL, TXRD is a banked league, but that’s not where the differences stop. The campiness I witnessed, and loved, at the TXRD game I attended is apparently not typical of most derby leagues. “When this league was created it was skating and athleticism but it was also entertainment,” Milla says.

Two queers in skates play tug of war with a rope

Photo by Ralph Arvesen

A quick crash (haha) course in the sport: a typical game is divided into two 30-minute sessions, made up of “jams.” For each jam, each team has five players on the track — four “blockers” and one “jammer” — designated by a star on their helmet. The goal of the game is for the jammer to push through the blockers, make a loop on the track, and every player on the opposing team that they pass counts as one point. The role of the blockers is to block the jammer — oftentimes by forming a red-rover style blockade of bodies that the jammer seeks to jam through. Needless to say, the sport is physically brutal and engaging to witness. While TXRD does follow these derby basics, the Penalty Wheel’s existence adds an extra flavor to players breaking the rules. Rather than a simple punishment, the Penalty Wheel is spun, its results commanding the offending players or team to perform stunts like a relay race, a jumping contest, or (my favorite) a pillow fight. These penalties therefore do not spark a vicious tone, but rather infuse every aspect of non-game time with the same energy and entertainment as the rest.

“The penalty wheel is unique to us,” says Anya, “I think camp is a good word for it, we prioritize performance in addition to the competition. We have practices around penalties, and how to be better at fake-fighting and make it more entertaining for the crowd. I can’t say this with 100% certainty, but I can say it with 99% certainty, that there are no other leagues playing how we do.”

“Our TXRD ruleset is proprietary and almost exclusively ours,” says The Star, a Hired Gun (a skater who stands in for absent skaters from any of the league’s five teams, before being drafted to one) and, according to their email signature, TXRD’s “Secretary of Skate.” TXRD’s charm lies in its singular vision for the sport: that it is as much a place of performance and entertainment as it is one of competition and athleticism. It’s no surprise a sport like roller derby – especially the way TXRD plays – would feel like an oasis for female and/or queer skaters.

“I think it’s one of the only sports where cis women are not constantly being compared to cis men, and where they are seen as the top athletes,” says Scrapegoat. “In most sports, women’s divisions are constantly being compared to the men’s.” He describes derby as a reclamation of the body, “from shame, or disconnection, or trauma,” and that the autonomy gained from participating in such a sport is unlike any other sport out there. While derby leagues are not always super queer, the sport’s emphasis on self-empowerment against patriarchal odds can be very attractive to queer people, or anyone seeking to be themselves in a welcoming space.

A group of skaters look serious as they bump into each other on the rink.

Photo by Brent LaVelle

It seems no surprise why queer people, especially lesbians, would flock to derby: a sport with no true male equivalent, where the women’s leagues are the leagues; a sport where femininity and power are not seen as at odds, but rather existing in symbiosis; a sport where community, arguably, comes before anything else. Whip It knew what it was doing adding itself to a long legion of lesbian-but-not sports movies (looking at you, Bend It Like Beckham and Stick It). Though of course, even queer and feminist spaces are not without critique, or without the need for change.

Anya and Milla both emphasize the league’s Gender Policy is very important, and that including trans, nonbinary, and intersex skaters in the league is extremely intentional. Roller derby in many leagues remains a “safe haven” for trans athletes, but of course, like anything, there is not a homogenized acceptance toward trans inclusion.

Scrapegoat, who runs the Instagram @the.trans.agenda (described as “a roller derby team of trans and non-binary skaters, advocating for roller derby that affirms, supports, and prioritizes our community”), makes a salient point that a league welcoming trans skaters is not always doing the extra work it takes to truly ingratiate trans people into the community and call out transphobic behavior. “We have a lot more trans skaters and I think folks are generally having a better experience,” they say, “But I want to emphasize that trans people did — and continue to do — a lot of work to make TXRD trans-inclusive and affirming.” He describes that, while TXRD and most other derby leagues are more trans-inclusive than other sports, much of the same microaggressions persist, such as transmasc and transfemme skaters alike being scrutinized for “hitting too hard” or playing more aggressively than cis skaters. However, both Scrapegoat and other skaters agree that TXRD has been more or less forthcoming in changing what needs to be changed.

“Something that I love about TXRD is that its ears remain open,” says the Star. “It’s always developing and evolving to make the space progressively safer and more hospitable for queer and gender-expansive folks. It definitely doesn’t have all the answers as an entity, but redeemably, TXRD uplifts marginalized voices to instill our sentiments into their values. I have never felt more accepted in a sport in my life.”

Jose Queervo agrees that TXRD and derby as a whole provide an “eccentric, counter-culture vibe” that allows queer and trans folks alike to feel seen and supported, even if much of that support has had to be hard-won from the inside out. “As my relationship with my gender changed, I realized how crucial it was to be in a space that could evolve with me, and especially a space that I could have an active role in shaping.”

Most skaters I had the pleasure to speak credit TXRD, for all its human bumps and brambles, with providing them a community and a sense of self that they dare not take for granted. “I am a better version of myself because of TXRD and roller derby,” says Zara Problem (she/her), TXRD’s accounting manager, a member of its D&I Committee, and another Cherry Bomb.

“What I think as a queer trans woman playing this sport is that I get to use it as a place not to just be athletic but also to explore the presentation of my identity on that track as an athlete and individual,” says Ghost in the Chelle (she/her), a member of the Holy Rollers who won MVP the night I got to see her win alongside her team in July. As a college swimmer in a “really heteronormative space,” she says derby has been “different in so many great ways” for her as a woman and a queer person. “I can feel tough, cool, and amazing in my skirt, dress, fishnets, whatever. But it’s my choice in how I show myself to the world.” Milla comments that being in derby gave her the confidence to stick up for herself in her 9-5 job to demand better pay, while Zara Problem attests that those she’s met through derby “have made life long impacts,” and Jose Queervo lets me know they met both their best friend and their wife through the sport.

“The adrenaline rush from the sport is addictive in nature, but it’s the community that keeps you coming back,” Jose Queervo attests. “It’s a space where you can find purpose and camaraderie, where you’re encouraged to be strong, bold, and resilient. In a world that often tries to stifle those qualities in marginalized people, roller derby gives you the platform to amplify them.”

It’s clear from even just one game that the community of roller derby is special. TXRD has dedicated itself not just as a space for good sportsmanship, but for belonging to something greater: a composite of queer, trans, and/or female strength, resilience, and camaraderie. A reminder that an organized, dedicated queer community is not a pipe dream, but a powerful, brutal, beautiful, weird reality.

If you’re interested in learning more about Texas Roller Derby League, find them here at their website.

Before you go! Autostraddle runs on the reader support of our AF+ Members. If this article meant something to you today — if it informed you or made you smile or feel seen, will you consider joining AF and supporting the people who make this queer media site possible?

Join AF+!
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Gabrielle Grace Hogan

Gabrielle Grace Hogan (she/her) received her MFA from the University of Texas at Austin. Her poetry has been published by TriQuarterly, CutBank, Salt Hill, and others, and has been supported by the James A. Michener Fellowship and the Ragdale Foundation. In the past, she has served as Poetry Editor of Bat City Review, and as Co-Founder/Co-Editor of You Flower / You Feast, an anthology of work inspired by Harry Styles. She lives in Austin, Texas. You can find her on Instagram @gabriellegracehogan, her website www.gabriellegracehogan.com, or wandering a gay bar looking lost.

Gabrielle has written 16 articles for us.

5 Comments

  1. I really love that derby is getting some recognition at Autostraddle!!!

    However, I wish that this article could have been written but someone from within the derby community, not just observing and reporting from one night’s experience. I know for a fact that some of the best derby players in the world are AS readers.

    I also wish that this article had better explained the difference between banked track and flat track derby at the top. I have no idea if this article did banked track derby justice (as the article explains, there are only 8 banked track leagues in the world, and all of them are in the US). But as a flat track skater for the past 12 years, I can tell you that while we share a history, the two types of derby are very very different, with very different communities. Flat track, for instance, has over 400 leagues, on every continent save Antarctica, with not just interleague play, but international championships and a World Cup. Wherever you live, there is a flat track roller derby team near you!

    If anyone is interested in flat track roller derby, I’d encourage you to check out wftda.com. I also highly recommend the book Eight-Wheeled Freedom, by derby’s own D.D. Miller (aka The Derby Nerd) for a short history of flat track roller derby.

    • Agreed 100%. It would be nice for someone who skates to describe their experiences. An outsiders perspective is nice, but there’s plenty of queers that could tell you exactly what it’s like.

      I can’t tell you how dope it is to be on a team where the straight cis people could be counted on one hand. It’s not like anything else.

    • Maybe if flat track derby was more interesting, they would have written about that. But they didn’t, because it’s not 🤷‍♀️

  2. Yay! I love that this article touched on the uniqueness of banked track roller derby & TXRD in particular, since flat track is the dominant form of the sport (although not nearly as exciting — sorry not sorry).

    But what I love even more is that this article highlights how TXRD is doing something that most flat track/WFTDA leagues are definitely NOT doing, which is intentionally making roller derby a trans-inclusive space.

  3. Ah, more things that make me think, gosh, should I go do roller derby too? I don’t have any close friends in it but I have a few in my broader circles, and they’ve apparently found spaces that are similarly trans positive. I’d love local physical community, but my plate is already over-full, and I fear it may be a little too physical for me 😅

    It’s a shame that not all leagues are so intentional about trans inclusion, that must suck for folks joining hoping for an experience like this (or many other write-ups about the diy ethos, queer vibe, and trans inclusion of the sport) and getting something more exclusive and less accepting.

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