A Millennial's Guide to the Queer Romcom Realisation
I used to really dislike the word ‘queer’; I was totally on the ‘oh no that’s really rude sweety’ fence. But actually, seeing what is coming out of the brilliant new generation I’m really starting to dance inside the box, and what a box?!
What I love most about the freshness of what is to be queer, is the inclusivity of it, the normalisation of it, especially on the big and small screen. It’s so wonderful to watch something that isn’t just about ‘coming out’. Currently I’m writing a book all about a female identifying farmer in the late 1940’s and yes it’s all about the leading moments of ‘coming out’, but hell am I going to make it about the drama of the hideousness of society, no I’m going to make it exciting, and sexy and a beautiful necessity to the bleakness of the post war era!
Other books I have written were always trying to brush the need to ‘come out’ as a statement under the rug, but readers in my writers’ group who were of a similar age or older, and dare I say heterosexual, would always say ‘I think there needs to be a coming out moment, as it’s a big deal’. I’d always question that statement, ‘Is it really a big deal? Why is it such a big deal’ this was always met with hearty shrugs of, ‘it just is’. It became a bit tiresome, waiting for the nonchalant of my personal desires to be -in no shape or form ‘a big deal’.
But it is hard I am sure for those that still believe sexuality to be larger than it needs to be, and I can hardly blame them when they were also brought up with television and film that formalised sexuality into clusters of giant despair and treated it like it was a filthy secret to be whispered about. There was an internal hatred that seem to be patting all the LGBTQ people on the back and then just went back to the adults table where it was told that heteronormative sold more copies and had more viewers.
Don’t get me wrong, I witnessed greatness in the cinema, and was a regular visitor to the small Odeon on the corner of the centre of Weston - super- mare. It’s still there, just, hit hard with the corrosion of time and the competition of the brand new larger than life 3D screens nearby. When I was younger, they would often advertise showtime for a pound to get people in. It was the first place I saw Jurassic Park, with my whole family sat by my side in the darkness and safety of the small room and uncomfortable folding seats.
If I close my eyes, I can still smell the fresh popcorn, the pick n mix sweets huddled in the corner waiting to overcharge us. I can still find my way around the small building, with its classic velour magenta curtains pulling back to reveal the screen that would be taking us on epic journey.
I’m not going to devalue or demonise the importance of the Shakespearean nods of my time like Clueless and Ten Things I Hate About You because I could watch both of these films over and over and never be bored despite not relating to anyone in them truly. I’m not going to punch the past with frustration but my god isn’t it wonderful to watch a Romcom now that doesn’t seem to care about gender and sexuality. Oh, wow we are in for a treat people, that little secret party we used to dance in silence is now a big festival and everyone is invited! What seems to work with the romcoms of this gen, is the sheer embrace and celebration of queer, ‘queer’ being normal and uncool to bully the ‘queer’ kid.
I am fully aware that at least I was allowed to be queer, I am by no means comparing my childhood to the painful lives of Pre-Stonewall where being queer meant living in absolute fear. I am however talking about my own personal experience of feeling odd in my own time. I talked to some of my younger friends, who identify as “queer” themselves and are ten years younger. They are an identifying male/female couple. Before meeting them, I would have suggested that they were heterosexual and potentially “cashing in” on a cause to be interesting. How wrong I was! Spending time with them I very quickly saw them as allies, I saw complexities and yet ultimately some very simplistic things too; They can be whatever they want to be, I can be whatever I want to be, you can be whatever you want to be.
Throughout my 20’s I demolished and consumed the lesbian movies that were handed to me, seeking forms of representation to my own life. I needed something to resonate my own feelings and explore my own journeys of feeling alone. From ‘Saving Face’ a beautiful and funny Romcom carved with restrictions from Chinese tradition to the hyper sexual and maybe not so romantic or comedic ‘Blue is the Warmest Colour’ which exploration of female sexuality is imperative but somehow offers free titillation for the sneaky passer-by. If for us ladies only then yippee but it seemed to fall into the hands of a slightly masochistic director who seemed to enjoy watching the actors make out and slurp spaghetti.
Being a millennial, I got to witness the growth of LGBTQ characters as producers and writers dipped their toes into much needed representation. Television did it well, with Russell T Davies being bold and brash with the likes of Queer as Folk, a hugely important show that put masculine sexuality on the map. Whilst we saw shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer stepping up with lesbian characters cleverly contorted with allegorical context. Then my friends and I squealed with delight when the announcement of The L word was coming to our tv screens.
Finally, a funny, dramatic show heavily focussed on people like me. But then that was kind of it, and the movies, well they seemed to be made with £9.99 budgets and normally involved one of the stereotypical lesbians dying of something incredibly sad or going back to their crab lookalike ex boyfriends. It was a desperate time, with missed opportunities for brave writers, actors, directors and producers.... but no one stepped up.
In the 90’s I felt like anyone else, ambivalently wondering what was wrong with me. Why did I not want to go on that date? Why did I tell my mum to lie to boys and tell them I was out when they called? Why did I hide in the corner of my room and just write scenarios that I knew would never been seen on tv, on big screen or even in a book? It was a lonely time. I won’t pretend that being queer in the 90’s in a hamlet in Somerset, where the most popular girl in the school walked home with me, wasn’t almost ironic. I really didn’t feel like I had many allies.
It was through time and possibly the birth of many self-loathing moments, where I questioned if I was quite enough, and I know when I talk to my friends of the same age, they often had the same thoughts. For me, the words “you have broken my heart” did come out of mum’s mouth when I was 17, which perhaps have made the difference to me fully loving myself and slightly feeling like I was undeserving of that love. And believe me when my mum said those words; my own heart split, shattered and cascaded in to colourless worlds I have never been able to find the pieces to rebuild.
This then perhaps lead me into relationships where I felt that I needed to submit myself to a life of looking after someone that needed me more. Self-sabotage, self-sacrifice, being a subject of unequivocal strength for other to rely. I know, though my childhood was glorious if I were to compare it to those that had not even managed to maintain a relationship with their parents, so in many ways the loneliness was mild.
Growing up, there was nothing really that I could lean on for company, to feel normal, to feel relevant and safe. Watching Baywatch on a Saturday afternoon and wondering why I also loved those slow-motion running moments so much was confusing when I had no one to share it with. Not having one thing on the ‘thing’ I loved so much, the tv screen, to relate to was isolating.
This brave new world of streaming shows like “Sex Education” on Netflix has transported me from a place of overwhelming sadness and solitude to safety and normality. The power of entertainment feels like an ally arsenal has repaired my heart a piece at a time and superglued it back into a semblance of a working organ again.
Take Love, Simon, a beautiful introduction to gay young men, slowly bumbling their way through a high school world with a romantic gesture that doesn’t extrapolate lack of consent... like so many romantic comedies have. Standing outside someone’s room with a boom box when they have said ‘no’, may have seemed wonderfully romantic at the time but let’s face it, all it says it ‘I don’t take no for an answer’. The messages in love Simon are encouraging to anyone of that age,
The teens who have those feelings of confusion yet also absolute love for themselves despite the world that might not welcome it in the burden or heteronormative cultures surrounding them.
Booksmart also did this so well, where the celebrations of queer were heard from the tallest building.
A straight friend who pushes her gay friend along with unconditional support was a sight I had to wipe my eyes for. It’s also funny, refreshing and its contemporary structure plays on the nineties style we have loved but is gorgeously washed over with inclusive framing so that anyone watching feels safe and sound.
Dating Amber, brings us back to 90’s Ireland, and there we have real fear that we remember in ourselves. Self-hatred, that has been bought and sold for so many generations that we cannot unburden ourselves unless we lie completely. The film is funny and brilliantly real, taking us to a place where we remember how bloody difficult it was to be the gay kid in a place where being the gay kid was a sin. The film is beautifully executed, with an abundance or believable well-structured dialogue and a reality that brims with pain and recognition. Its possibly the one I felt closest to, as it’s set in my time, not my country - and without the pressure of a religion, but still a time when I recognised as feeling strange among my peers.
I am envious of the now, of the youth that live in a world that is welcoming and nonchalant about queer things, but all in all, I am so proud to have been one of those people who kissed someone publicly when the lights dimmed, walked hand in hand gently whilst releasing them from the clutch when we saw a passer-by in the shadows, I said the appropriate pronouns, whispered my love under the table. I’m excited now about being queer, because I know the next generation has my back. The words “it gets better” are no longer just vacant glimmers of hope, I can now really feel the truth and power of them, queer is no longer “peculiar, strange, odd” it can mean whatever you want it too, that word is ours to manifest, it’s our word to recreate and redistribute. Let the next generation celebrate their beautiful inclusivity and let us all be part of it. We don’t have to be lonely anymore and coming out really is not a big deal.
Written by Abigail Mansfield
I am a queer writer and poet based in Bristol and North Somerset. I have published three books and like to write poetry to keep my brain moving when I am doing my grownup job, this is normally reactional poetry that I have created from the bleakness of something I have seen or the gorgeousness of something I have heard. I write songs and sing and cannot wait to be brave when open mic nights might welcome me inside again. I have a very low opinion of everything I do and question every single thing I write and send out, but I still want to keep doing it because it matters to me. I also really love cats.