LGBT Portrayals: Blink-and-You-Miss-It

LGBTQ inclusion on television is improving - the rate is almost glacial, and it’s improving only when you consider that the previous standard was “non-existant”,”evil monster predator” or “tragic tragedy of tragicness who dies tragically. Probably of AIDS” (three genres that are still depressingly robust and enduring) - but things are improving.

While over half the shows we’ve reviewed still don’t have any LGBT representation at all, and a large chunk of the rest only have a character for maybe one or two episodes; we are seeing creeping LGBT inclusion among the extras, side characters and brief comic reliefs. Again, glacial progress but… progress… sort of.

What is still very sadly rare are actual meaningful, involved LGBT characters. Major, important LGBT characters with their own storylines, driving the main plot and generally being integral to the actual show. Major LGBT characters and, most rare and precious of all, actual LGBT protagonist in a show which isn’t all about the tragic-tragedy-tragicness AIDS-suicide-stray-bullet oh woe.

But, slowly, we have been seeing one exception - we have been seeing a very few but growing number of shows introduce bisexual protagonists or co-protagonists or major characters. Major, involved characters who are definitely central to their shows and their plot lines.

And this is definitely something to celebrate. To see protagonists be actually LGBT in a main role is sorely, desperately needed and a huge part of us celebrates every single time we see it. I just wish we could see it a little… longer.

The problem with many of these depictions is that these bisexual characters are only ever briefly referred to as bisexual. It’s not that they’re in opposite sex relationships - a bisexual person is a bisexual person regardless of who they’re involved with (or whether they’re involved with no-one at all) - nor is it any less of an LGBT depiction if we’re depicting bisexual people in relationships with the opposite sex.

The problem is, as we’ve said repeatedly before, portrayal of minorities. The portrayal of marginalised people is important and powerful because, well, it’s portrayed. Because marginalised people can see themselves and their lives on screen, because they are acknowledged as existing

But for many of these examples, the main character’s bisexuality has absolutely not effect on their lives, their experiences, their histories or anything about their portrayal. It’s a simple, usually very brief reference, often in very long running series.

The problem isn’t these characters’ bisexuality, nor these characters’ relationships. The problem is that if your TIVO frazzles or your lose power or your favourite show skips an episode because of some sporting event then you may never actually know that a character is bisexual. Some of these shows have gone on for 3+ seasons and there’s only one short reference in one episode to actually convey this character’s sexuality. You forget to pause it when you go put the kettle on? That’s it - you will never know this character is not straight.

Sanctuary ran for four season and during that time we learned about Helen’s daughter from a heterosexual relationship. We watched as she occasionally flirted with Tesla. Her heterosexuality seemed written in stone and more certainly cannon.  Imagine my surprise when in one of the last episodes of the series, Helen kissed a woman.  Where did this come from all of a sudden? Did the writers figure that since they were done with the show they might as well throw the audience a bone and make a character bisexual. Was it an attempt to collect a cookie and thereby evade the fact that for FOUR YEARS, Sanctuary had absolutely no LGBT portrayal. If one just so happened to miss this particularly episode, you would never know that Helen was bisexual and this has been the trend in a lot of the shows we watch.  When there isn’t a sort wink wink maybe they’re bisexual, there’s absolutely zero inclusion.

Review of Black Magic Woman by Justin Gustianis Book 1 of the Quincy Morris Series

 

Because I seem to love reading things out of order, I have already done a review of Justin's second book in this series, Evil Ways.   In this book, we are introduced to Quincy Morris a sort of psychic investigator/problem solver, Libby Chastain his white witch friend and partner, as well as Dale Fenton an FBI agent, in the Behavioral Science unit. Each one of these characters has a very unique part to play in the story.

Someone is killing children by removing their organs while they are still alive.  Dale is desperate to find out who is responsible and so he manages to secure the help of a South African cop from the Occult Crime Unit named Van Dreenan.  At first their relationship is simply based on the respect that someone gives a fellow professional, but over time and experience, a level of trust is developed between the men.  Dale realizes that he must learn to give credence to the possibility of  the supernatural and he learns from Van Dreenan not only how real magic is, but that it can have deadly consequences.

My main issue with this story is that a significant section of the plot involved a White South African cop hunting down a Black African woman, who was a violent muti murderer. In an extreme display of White male privilege on page 80 Van Dreenan says, "Apartheid was what it was.  Neither of us can change history.  And now it is gone.  And neither of us need mourn it's passing". Speaking about apartheid so cavalierly and then quickly dismissing it's ongoing effects, is a sign of White privilege.  Though there is a burgeoning Black middle class, much of the division of wealth in South Africa still means that Blacks are largely impoverished, despite being in the majority.  An evil as great as apartheid should never be so easily dismissed, and while Van Dreenan may not mourn its passing, at no time did he acknowledge his personal gains because of it, much like many White Americans continue to fail to realize that though slavery ended some time ago, that they still benefit from unpaid labour of African-American slaves. You see, without infusion of African labour, the U.S. would not be the powerhouse that it is today, nor would these White South Afrikaners be able to live in such relative comfort, juxtaposed to the Black native population.  Saying "it was what it was," allowed Whites to simply confess their crimes in the Truth and Reconciliation commission, while Blacks received no justice. How can it be a thing of the past, when justice has yet to be served?  Fenton, the Black American cop does not even bother to call him out on his privileged language. When need not make a statement of agreement; silence is enough to imply acceptance.

Cecelia Mbwato is an umthakhati, "Zulu for witch or sorcerer. In Sotho, the name is baloyi." Gustianis makes a point of saying that not all who practice voodoo are bad people; however, the negative treatment of Mbwato makes him yet another author who is willing to construct it as negative, even violent belief system.  Van Dreenan chose to come to the aid of the FBI in part because of a personal vendetta.  I won't tell you what this is, but I do feel that it is absolutely necessary to point out that examination of the history of violence in South Africa, will show that Blacks have more often been the victims of violence and not the perpetrator, and this is especially true when it comes to policing -- yet this is not the road that Gustianis chose to embark upon. In this case, the White South African is the victim -- how absolutely unoriginal.

The White/Black binary was further displayed in relationship between Cecelia and White supremacist Snake Perkins.  Throughout the novel, Snake refers to Cecelia as nigger.  I know that this is common language for a White supremacist, but it was jarring to read.  At one point, I felt like screaming at the book, "yeah, I get it he's a racist, enough with the slurs already," because the use of the word nigger was ubiquitous.