“Strawberry Shortcake in Big Apple City” Is a Queer Romcom Don’t @ Me
“From now on, we’re a we.”
“From now on, we’re a we.”
“I am struck that in its second season Queen Sugar has broken open the myth, often accepted as truth, that black women must endure all of their community’s burdens.”
“Just wait, as soon as the cameras start rolling, she’s gonna go all right-wing on her ass.”
Scarlet isn’t interested in acquitting itself to any man. And as the magazine repeatedly rejects the reductive assumption that sex and feminism and fashion and politics can’t coexist, so does the show itself.
Ah, the 1980s, when clothes and hair and music were hella dope but women were given the same courtesy as plants in Hollywood. Then along came women’s wrestling to shake television and gender roles way the fuck up.
Claws is not Breaking Bad. Breaking Bad is not Breaking Bad if Walter White isn’t a white man cloaked in respectability. You share that narrative through the eyes of a struggling black woman, a recent parolee, a recovering addict, a lesbian and a former sex worker, and the story changes completely.
There have been a handful of women antiheroes on TV over the last few years, but what sets this show apart is the way it centers on three different queer experiences.
Co-creator, Shadi Petosky is a trans woman and the cast is absolutely packed with queer and trans voice actors like Stephanie Beatriz, Jasika Nicole, Angelica Ross, Cameron Esposito, Rhea Butcher, Tyler Ford, Jazz Jennings, Laura Zak and Petosky herself.
Hollywood’s reluctance to tell the stories of brown girls has always been rooted in — well, racism; but more precisely— the myth that white stories are neutral and, as such, are more relatable to the broader audience. Brown Girls disproves that myth, creating an imminently relatable coming-of-age story.
Unlike Orange Is the New Black, Queen Sugar’s approach to Black Lives Matter storytelling works because it doesn’t resort to excessive violence or torture porn to make its point.
“It is, and I say this without any hyperbole or doubt, the closest I have EVER come on television to seeing a love that looks mine and looks like how I express it. Ever. Ever. EVER.”
Nickelodeon’s beloved show introduced a pair of gay dads last season, and now one of their main characters is queer!
I marathoned the entirety of Season 5 this weekend and I need to talk to somebody about it, pronto. SPOILERS AHEAD.
The setting is new, the stakes are higher, but the excitement and the humor and the tension are the same.
The character-driven Thanksgiving is set almost entirely in a single location, and unlike most small-screen coming out stories, this one spans 22 years because Denise’s journey is a marathon; not a sprint.
“Anne With An E” isn’t even good television, and it’s absolutely not “Anne of Green Gables.”
I would’ve preferred “13 Reasons Why Hannah Baker Murdered Bryce Walker But Shouldn’t Go To Prison For It.”
Chapter III of “Dear White People” gives us Nia Long as Neika Hobbs in my dream job as an African-American studies professor and a beautiful self-proclaimed lesbian… but her storyline, and really the show in general, didn’t quite land for me.
What makes The Handmaid’s Tale so striking isn’t just this world where all the pretense of female equality has been stripped away, but the ordinariness of such oppression even today.
Girls smooching on each other and widowing their own damn selves from their abusive husbands.