Constant Craving for Accurate Representation

I’m pretty sure we can all agree that when it came screaming and crying into the world, Glee was television’s big gay baby. It was brought here to rid us of our heteronormative sin, and bring the kingdom of the gayngels right to our front door. The only problem is that it’s forgotten why it came to us, and recently, Glee has been shitting on the altar of all that is queer. This whole Santana being outed business, the subsequent hailing of Finn as the Straight White Cisgender Male Hero of the Day, it all makes me want to vomit. And not even vomit rainbows, which is what I do when there’s a big gay overload.

But if nothing else, at least the recent episodes have made me think. In particular, I’ve considered what Glee is really saying about the music it picks. Is there some kind of orientation hierarchy in music? Or, in other words, are certain songs “for” certain people? Obviously it’d be weird for Axl Rose to jump into a rousing rendition of “God Blessed the Broken Road,” but that’s not what I mean. When an entire episode is about a gay teenager processing coming out, does she need to be singing songs by lesbian folk artists? Could the episode have functioned without Melissa Etheridge’s slightly stalkery hand to guide it, or are gay songs for gay people in gay shows? Is the reason it felt weird to hear Puck sing “I’m the Only One” because he was singing to someone it was totes inappropes for him to sing to or because he’s never had the experience of a queer woman?

In the most recent Gleepisode, “I Kissed A Girl” (or, as Autostraddle.com’s recap says, “I Kissed a Girl, Allegedly”), Finn decides, in his infinite privileged wisdom, that Glee Club should use patronizing renditions of lesbian folk songs and other “girl power anthems” (because awkward acoustic versions of 80s pop songs are exactly what Christina was talking about in “What a Girl Wants”) to encourage Santana to come out. Even though “everyone already knows.” And even though it’s not up to him when she comes out. And even though she has literally never publicly identified as anything. So fuck y’all and your assumptions about her personal labels, as well as forcing her to use labels in the first place. The episode just gets worse from here, honestly… so naturally I’m gonna talk it to death. At least I promise to serve really yummy cookies at the wake!

One of the hardest moments in the show is when Santana is approached by some douche and a half from the rugby team who kindly offers to fuck the gay out of her sometime. The ladies of Glee Club come to Santana’s aide in a really awkward after school special of a retort to said douche, and Rachel basically suggests they all like girls anyway… and then they launch into a cover of “I Kissed a Girl.” Here’s the thing about “I Kissed a Girl”… it’s not a lesbian anthem. It’s not a bisexual anthem. It’s the anthem for those drunk straight girls in the back corner of the party who keep screaming every time their favorite song comes on and kiss their friends because their boyfriends will think it’s hot. There’s nothing essentially wrong with this kind of girl (unless you, like me, think it illegitimates true bisexuality by making bisexual acts a spectacle), but she’s not the target audience Lady Music Week was meant for.

Or is it? Consider this. Santana is singing a song with her club mates that has pretty strong homoerotic overtones, but equally salient heteronormative undertones. When she sings it as part of a group of women who are attracted to men (as she’s the only lesbian in the room), she blends in with their sexuality and adopts the persona of the song’s narrative. In a performance that was meant to show the straight girls’ solidarity with queerness, and maybe even meant to have all the girls pass as queer, Santana ends up passing as straight all over again, and reinforcing the notion that she can’t possibly be gay. All the cover ends up achieving is a heteronormative declaration that whenever Santana kisses Brittany, it’s just so that she can tell the boys at school and everyone wins when they imagine it. So what does this scene have? Queer women passing, straight women appropriating queerness for the benefit of the general public, straight men fetishizing girl-on-girl lovin as they huff and puff and blow their boners down, and queer men feeding into that objectification – Blaine and Kurt are seen taking pictures of the performance on their camera phones. Maybe the target audience of Lady Music Week isn’t ladies after all, but the straight white cis men (and Mike Chang, who is most of those things anyway and just as attracted to Tina canoodling with her girlfriends). Besides, the song choice in the first place was a horrible one to show support for Santana. Oh yes, friends, I’d love to join you in a choral number that invalidates my identity and does nothing but relieve you of the guilt you unknowingly add on to by performing this in my name! I’ll call my parents and they can video tape it!

So when she sings with a group, Santana is forced into a box that isn’t hers (let’s be real, we all know who’s box she’d rather be in, amirite?). But what happens when she’s granted a solo? She tells the Glee Club that the song she’s about to sing “gives her strength” when hard times are getting her down… and proceeds to launch into the official song of 1990s lesbianism, kd lang’s “Constant Craving.” So when she’s just one of the girls, when she’s portrayed as normal, she sings a song that erases her sexual identity, but when she stands on her own, she has to sing something that shoves her orientation in everyone’s face like a puppy that wet the doormat? Okay, that’s obviously totally fine. What does it mean that she has to split her allegiance to herself and to her peers in this way?

To me it means the writers of Glee have their heads so far up their asses that they’ve actually come out their own mouths and believe they’re brand new people with real ideas. But that’s just me. Thoughts?

Glee to Be You and Me?

I have a confession to make. I’ve been a long-time Gleek, and for most of that time, I was a proud Gleek. But recently I’ve had to reevaluate my opinion, and you’re all very lucky I chose to voice my thoughts here as opposed to in a super obnoxious letter to Ryan Murphy. To explain myself, first I need to cover some background items. Then we’ll get to the heart of my upset.

What I really want to talk about is this somehow not universally laughed at idea that Glee is glamorizing gayness, making it so cool to be gay that it’s getting dangerous. I think we may need to start by talking about the fact that being gay isn’t some kind of turd that the media is desperate to polish. It may not be 100% comfortable, or popular, or nationally accepted, but there is nothing wrong with it. Glee isn’t doing anything that isn’t true; guys, it’s okay to be gay. As Gaga says, baby, we were born this way. Sexual orientation is just as inherent as eye color. But look, whether you come to understand your sexuality when you’re six, fourteen, twenty, forty-six, or ninety-three, anyone who identifies somewhere in the alphabet soup has a whole lot of amazing compatriots. There’s Bayard Rustin, who I guess didn’t always remember his dreams, but was still incredibly influential. There’s Andy Warhol, and if you want to hate the gays, I suggest you take down all that cool pop-art in your guest room right about…now. Also big influences? That girl in your chemistry class who tutored you all last semester. That guy down the hall who let you borrow his phone when you got locked out of your dorm room. Honestly, if Kurt Hummel is gay, if Santana Lopez is gay, then that’s all fine. They are who they are. For the purposes of Glee, did anyone notice Santana’s vocal quality decrease after she told Brittany she loved her? Answer: no. In fact, her version of “Songbird” is just about one of the greatest things I’ve ever heard.

So it’s perfectly fine to be gay, or lesbian, or bisexual, or any orientation or none. It’s great even, because it means people who are out are able to be their true selves, and nothing is better than living an honest life. But how is Glee glamorizing it? What are they doing that makes being gay so appealing? Some say that by having gay characters front and center, and making them sympathetic, it’s subliminal messaging the crap out of viewers, and making them think it might be cool to give being gay a try. Because The Gay is a disease, and, as with all infectious contagions, you can catch it by watching television. Hey, that’s how I got my last sinus infection. Damn you, House. One of the glamorizers in question, Kurt, for example, has become the champion of the masses, by facing bullying and standing up for himself bravely. He refuses to shake in his Alexander McQueen boots, and that kind of statement sticks. In Santana’s case, she suddenly got way nicer once she realized her true feelings for Brittany, and chilled out on being the crazy bitchwad we all knew and hated to love. Her lesbian identity has rounded her out, and made Santana a more multi-dimensional character, something Glee is not known for. Moreover, though, some critics are upset that the gay kids are so damn talented. Kurt is arguably a more musically talented character than Finn, played by the overtly Canadian Cory Monteith. Is this show trying to say that being gay makes you better at stuff? Like, you’re more good at things? Well that’s just not kosher! Grumble, grumble, toil and trouble. Angry viewer is angry. Oh, please.

Look, all the arguments as to how Glee is making LGBT identities too cool for the average school are so easily debunked that it hurts. But they’re missing some obvious things. Guys, Glee isn’t glamorizing gay at all. They’re doing a pretty awful job with their queer characters, actually. First of all, way to pressure everyone to come out. This isn’t a group meeting in Harvey Milk’s basement in 1974; this is a high school in Ohio that we already know is unsafe. Karofsky, for one, is clearly uncomfortable, and his persistent denial is an indication that he’s questioning. There are few things scarier to someone who’s questioning than the open assertion of everyone else around that you’re just plain gay and need to own it. In the prom episode, the audience is intended to be just as upset as Kurt when Karofsky refuses to dance with him, and to agree with Kurt that this was Karofsky’s chance to make a statement. But it’s not that easy. Coming out is extremely personal, it takes time and confidence, and, something that gets left out a lot, you have to come out to yourself before anyone else. If Karofsky isn’t positive he’s gay in the first place, it’s abominable to force him into an orientation and demand that he declare it so publicly, so vulnerably. Shoving someone out of the closet can be as damaging as pushing him in, and if Glee wants to be as gay-friendly as it apparently clamors to be, it needs to be aware of that reality. The same thing is happening to Santana, though on a smaller scale. In her storyline, Brittany gets to be the manipulative one for once; the audience knows that all Santana really wants is Brittany, and that gives the blonde a ton of power. Using it to get what she wants, Brittany has been inching Santana out of the closet little by little all season, telling her it’s no big deal because Santana never actually has to say the word “lesbian”; she can just accept a prom proposal, or wear a shirt, or sing a song in glee club. But no matter how supportive Brittany may think she is, she’s made Santana’s orientation all about her. If Santana really loved her, she says, she would do these things for Brittany. Bitch, it ain’t like that! One person’s sexuality is not another person’s treasure. Not coming out doesn’t mean that Santana doesn‘t have true feelings, but when the audience sees how hurt Brittany is, we’re supposed to be on her team and yell at Santana, too. What kind of glamour is that? If I were Santana, or a young person watching who identified with Santana, I wouldn’t feel like the special one on the show at all. I would feel like my sexual identity had become a spectator sport, and that just isn’t a good feeling.

The next major problem I have is with the last episode of this past season. Hopefully all y’all have already watched it, because I hate being Spoiler Girl. I gave you a solid week and a half, so no excuses, I guess? It had been forever since any episode had really given us a lengthy look at Brittana, and Klaine had been virtually invisible since Kurt transferred back to McKinley High in what was a deceptively triumphant, short-sighted return. So when we finally get to New York, out of stifling Ohio and into fresh, rather gay air, I think a little bit of all us hoped we would see some resolution, or at least more development, of the storylines handling gay relationships on the show. Did we get our wish? Not even a little. The way Glee threw some slapdash scenes in at the end was downright offensive. “Oh, right,” it seemed to say, “the gay ones.”

Glee has taken such pains to convince its audience that the on-again-off-again romances and dizzying formations of Glee-cest are worth agonizing over and keeping track of. When the couples reach major milestones, the show has treated them like special moments in the personal lives of every viewer. Who could forget (without extensive therapy) Tina’s tear-stained rendition of “My Funny Valentine”, lovingly dedicated to Mike Chang? Rachel went to pains outside most school districts’ budgets to show her love for Finn after he broke up with her in the Christmas episode, remember? The heavy “I love you”s and intense triangles have been legendary for Glee. But only among the straight couples. Though Blaine has been an incredible draw for the show, his relationship with Kurt stopped mattering, it seemed, to the producers the moment it began in earnest. Infuriating enough is the fact that despite weeks of trying to convince audiences that Blaine wasn’t necessarily a love interest, that Kurt might just need a mentor, the producers eventually let the only two out gay characters on the show fall right into each others convenient arms. Worse than that, right after their kiss, it started to look like Glee had washed its hands of its gay quota and moved on to some other implausible straight pairing within the group. The New York episode focused almost exclusively on the Finn, Rachel, and Company love polygon, then quietly slipped in what should have been a beautiful moment when the glee club returned home. Toward the end of the episode, we see Kurt and Blaine at the local coffee shop, nursing some lattes like lovers do, chatting excitedly about the complete fail that Nationals had been. After a sweet explanation of why Kurt seems less than bummed about the team’s loss, Blaine gets all doe-eyed and casually murmurs, “I love you.” Cue three or four seconds of sappy music, then a surprised but sincere parroting on Kurt’s part, then oh, boom, they’re interrupted by the important part of the show, Mercedes and Sam barging in and hoping no one notices they’re on a super secret heterosexual date. The straight couple literally overpowers the gay couple, and dominates them despite the fragility of Mercedes’ and Sam’s blooming romance compared to the milestone Blaine and Kurt had just reached. The show comes so close to allowing equal intensity for Kurt and Blaine’s “I love you”s, but just when it gets to the tipping point, they have to straighten up, literally. We’ve all watched Blaine and Kurt grow together, and come into their own as characters and a couple, but every time Blaine makes a statement that furthers their relationship, it’s predicated on something entirely mundane and fabricated. We never see any substance, just declarations that feel empty compared to the elaborate dates Finn takes Rachel on, or the fights he gets into for her. Blaine fell for Kurt in the span of a Beatles song; he says he loves him after a story about loving his trip to New York. Sure they get air time, but how substantial is it? What kind of depth is Glee allowing a gay relationship to have? Really, none.

The cop-out royale that was the season finale’s handling of Brittana was even worse, and came close to ruining the entire series for not only myself, but some friends I’ve spoken (read: ranted) to since the episode aired. Brittany and Santana have been a whirlwind of sexual tension, awkward admissions, and inappropriate responses all season, so it would make sense for their season to end with some kind of actual decision. Maybe a cliffhanger, maybe something physical (you’ll notice there’s still physical intimacy among straight characters who aren’t dating, but we haven’t seen Brittany and Santana get close in months), maybe a deep conversation about where they stand. What the producers seemed to be going for was that last suggestion, a real discussion of their relationship status. But what we got was just pitiful. It was rude, honestly. Brittany comes up to Santana’s locker, they briefly bitch about Nationals, and then Brittany has an uncharacteristically enlightened moment, postulating on the nature of friendships in glee club. Now, what the hell do friendships have to do with Brittany and Santana, you may ask? I applaud this question. Someone on the writing staff should have asked it. Because even though Santana asks Brittany where they stand, all we get is another empty assertion of love, no promise of any real relationship, and then the single worst thing ever. “You’re my best friend,” says Santana, who is painfully in love with this girl, who has displayed feelings for her that are more human than anything Quinn and Finn ever conjured. Best friend? What kind of bullshit is that, Glee? In four simple words, the show went from demonstrating two teenage girls exploring the fluidity of female sexuality and finding their places in that flow, to basically writing it off as experimentation among friends that didn’t really mean anything but was still normal to have happened. “They’re just best friends,” the show says. “Don’t worry.” When Brittany says “anything is possible,” it may seem like she’s giving Santana hope for the two of them, but it’s a safe bet that she was really giving herself an escape clause, and we won’t see a bit of Brittana next season. If anything is possible, Santana could be straight after all. Once you go Trouty Mouth, you’re not allowed to back.

Maybe Glee is glamorizing some aspects of the uncomfortable realities of high school. It allows the nerds to be popular; it allows awkward overachievers to have three boyfriends in as many months; it makes transferring in and out of schools seem like a cake walk on clouds. But when you pay attention, it doesn’t do much of anything for its queer contingent. There is no glamour whatsoever in the constant threat of being outed. There is nothing alluring about having your milestone moments discredited in favor of a budding romance we all know probably won’t last. No viewer is envious of a character’s sexual identity having been a hoax the entire time, an experimentation that ran its course and can just be simple friendship now. Visibility is a great first step, and I do applaud Glee for having as many LGBT characters as it does. But if it wants to really impress me, it’ll have to treat them as outlandishly as it does its straight characters.