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How exciting it is to see a character that you relate to! Whether you relate to a character on the basis of their hobbies, personality, or lifestyle, seeing a bit of yourself in someone on a big screen is of great importance. As the media has become increasingly inclusive, there has been a consistent growth of LGBTQ+ identifying characters. Regardless of whether a viewer identifies as part of the Queer community, is in the process of deciding that for themselves, or is just a mere watcher, the portrayal of LGBTQ+ characters matters. The way that a group of people is shown to a large audience has vast effects. Most importantly, the use of stereotypes and unrealistic or simply unfair tropes significantly impacts how the world sees these people.
To go into the specifics of the portrayal of Lesbians would require an understanding of their origins. The origins of the “Lesbian side-character” trope reach back to early Hollywood’s earliest portrayals of queer women. During the mid-20th century, strict censorship laws like the Hays Code prohibited overt demonstrations of homosexuality. This forced filmmakers to rely on subtext and stereotypes. Lesbian characters often appeared through hints or “queer coding” rather than through an open identity. But as mainstream media slowly grew more accepting in the late 1990s and early 2000s, visibility improved, but representation did not.
Lesbian characters were often relegated to side roles– token gay best friends, angsty and man-hating, or one-season love interests to “prove” progressiveness. This safety net of inclusion is obvious and damaging. Most commonly, these characters were treated as peripheral rather than emphasizing the depth that characters had the potential to show. This historical pattern evidently lingers in today’s media, which shapes how both audiences and creators view queer women.
These trends have carried through countless portrayals of lesbian characters in film and television, forming a clear pattern of limited, often stereotypical representation.
Glee showcases the relationship between Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce, high school “cheerios” who experience enormous growth and turmoil throughout the seasons. Santana herself depicts a common demonstration of internalized homophobia, which the media usually cowers from. But despite extensive development, the couple was left as side-characters.
Pretty Little Liars features Emily Fields, a brave yet shy character in the show’s “main friend group.” Through her raw story of self-discovery, she goes through numerous queer relationships. All of these either ended in tragic death, moving away, or divorce.
Euphoria highlights Jules Vaughn, caring and unique, but carries vast trauma and struggles. For a large portion of the series, Jules was in a queer relationship with another main character, Rue Bennett. Although this relationship ultimately ended for several reasons, it sparked because Jules cheated on Rue with a man.
Insatiable shows Nonnie Thompson, loyal and clever best friend to the show’s main character, Patty Bladell, with whom Nonnie was, of course, in love with. After she worked through her feelings for her straight best friend, she found herself in a supportive and all-around good relationship. Which she managed to keep afloat while still supporting Patty in all of her many male-relationship crises. But Nonnie’s relationship ended abruptly when Nonnie’s girlfriend vanished.
Killing Eve features an agonizingly long, highly anticipated queer relationship between its main characters, Eve Polastri and Villanelle. Slowly but surely, the show demonstrated their bond growing and deepening. This prolonged development culminated in the two’s first romantic moment together, which was shortly followed by Villanelle’s death.
It’s very easy to see the recurring themes among lesbian characters. These themes range from characters being confined to side plots or best friends, tragic endings, and even the reversal of lesbianism. For viewers who are themselves lesbian, or not, seeing these themes so frequently displayed is plain harmful. Is a lesbian woman, even in today’s society, only destined to be the “best friend”? To have their partner die? Or even revert to heterosexual relationships instead? This is exactly how the media portrays queer women.
Viewers may already struggle to see themselves in central or fulfilling roles, and these negative portrayals can reinforce feelings of invisibility or inferiority, which suggests that their stories are secondary and/or undeserving of a happy ending. It sends the message that their love or identity will always come second to someone else’s story.
And for straight audiences, these limited depictions can distort understanding of queer experiences, reducing complex identities to stereotypes or token gestures of diversity. Over time, this pattern doesn’t just harm representation but also contributes to real-world stigma, which teaches viewers, even unconsciously, that lesbian characters are meant to support others rather than be supported themselves.
Not all media follow these outdated patterns– some have made notable strides in representing lesbian characters with respect and realism.
Bottoms presents the relationship between Josie Marks and Isabel Lee, sweet and vulnerable, which slowly blossoms as the two find themselves throughout the film. Working through the conflict rooted in a lie, they find honesty and resolution. Although the film portrays the pair as messy and flawed, it normalizes queer joy without resorting to tragedy.
Crush presents Paige Evans, an awkward, artistic high schooler who finds herself on her school’s track team, despite a complete lack of athleticism. The film guides viewers through the protagonist’s mission to identify the vandal at her school, but in the process, she finds herself in a completely unexpected romance. This sincere and unapologetic film demonstrated that a queer film does not need pain or struggle to be powerful.
These films took the stigma around how a queer relationship should be depicted and made it something relatable and humorous. This shift signals real progress and proves that audiences are indeed ready for stories that reflect reality, rather than stereotypes.
Ultimately, the fight for authentic lesbian representation is about more than visibility; it’s about claiming the right to be at the center of the story. To be seen is powerful, but to be centered is transformative, and that’s what representation must strive for. It’s time for the media to really include us.