Why we need to stop accusing human beings of “queerbaiting”
The term “queerbaiting” arose in prominence around the 2010s.
As computers and the Internet became more accessible to the average American in the 1990s and 2000s, fan communities for different forms of media developed their own online spaces to discuss, debate, and celebrate their favorite creators and content. Queer representation was minimal in popular media, leading LGBTQ audiences to interpret queerness through whatever subtext media producers made available–whether the subtext was intentional or not.
Certain fandoms became largely populated by folks eager to ship same-sex couples. Awareness of online discourse supporting specific relationships or dynamics among characters on TV shows occasionally prompted showrunners to adapt plotlines in order to satisfy or tease their audience. Producers of the ‘90s show Xena: Warrior Princess, for example, were told by network executives that Xena’s female leads couldn’t do anything that would get the series deemed a “lesbian show.” When the series earned a largely queer audience, though, the show’s creators did whatever they could to imply a romantic relationship between the main characters without actually verifying their sexual orientations on screen.
What the creators of Xena did would be classified as “queer coding,” meaning they evaded censorship by quietly indicating their characters’ queerness without blatantly labeling their sexualities. It’d be almost impossible to watch the show in 2022 without assuming the main characters are lesbians or bisexual given the heavy-handedness and near-textual acknowledgment of their romantic partnership, but if a hetero viewer of the ‘90s–barely aware that lesbianism is even a thing–were to watch an episode, there was enough plausible deniability to avoid total destruction of their heteronormative assumptions. Sure the two main female characters are kissing each other on the lips, we can imagine them saying. But they didn’t say they’re lesbians, so they’re just kissing as friends right?
With queer audiences so thirsty for queer content, it didn’t take long for producers of other properties to realize the marketing potential involved in pandering to the fantasies of their online fandoms. LGBTQ fans were often the ones creating the video-edits, fanfics, and gif-sets that acted as free promotion for media of the new millennium. While the producers of Xena used queer coding to acknowledge their audience’s understanding of the show–making the relationship between the female leads central to the story–writers on other TV shows and film franchises used queer coding tactics to string fans along for storylines that ultimately concluded as disappointingly heterosexual.
A particularly egregious example is the show Sherlock, which gained a large cult following that shipped the series’ two male leads. Dialogue regularly implied that other characters saw the two men as a couple, and increasing affection between the pair led many viewers to believe that, at some point, the Internet’s popular ship would finally be actualized on screen. It wasn’t, and certain comments from the series’ showrunners implied that Sherlock’s writers actually found the fandom’s desire to see the men become romantically involved to be beneath the integrity of the show.
There’s much about the writing of Sherlock that indicates the series’ creators were aware of their queer fanbase. Teasing that fanbase with the potential for the main characters to be queer earned them a large LGBTQ following that they never intended to reward. They weren’t just queer coding, they were “queerbaiting,” a word which refers to the practice of implying queerness to attract an LGBTQ audience without actually depicting the queer relationships that that audience hoped to see. Even today, with queer representation being more common in popular media, properties that appeal to mass markets still employ queerbaiting to entice LGBTQ viewers but abstain from making the queer identities of their main characters explicit enough to isolate a socially conservative crowd. As a recent example, the latest season of Netflix’s Stranger Things has been criticized for this.
Queerbaiting isn’t a term that’s only been applied to the production of TV and film, however. Pop music has long been a genre that’s attracted LGBTQ audiences. Throughout the 20th and 21st centuries, the relationships between popstars and the ever-evolving queer community have been mostly symbiotic and supportive. Where would the careers of Madonna, Lady Gaga, Cher, and the like be without the gays?
As the standards have risen for queer representation, though, audiences are becoming increasingly critical of those who pander to LGBTQ audiences without themselves being a part of that community.
The problem with these criticisms is that they often make uneducated assumptions about public figures’ sexual orientations. Madonna has been referred to as “straight,” and yet when discussing her own sexuality has said she believes “everybody has a bisexual nature,” which could only be the thought of someone who has a “bisexual nature” themselves, and denied the claim that she’s never slept with a woman. Lady Gaga, despite writing multiple songs that reference same-sex attraction, has been so frequently dismissed as a member of the LGBTQ community that she’s had to publicly defend herself as an openly bisexual woman.
Many of today’s stars have declined to label their sexual orientation, leading some to accuse them of queerbaiting–profiting off their proximity to queer communities without explicitly claiming to be a part of them. When Ariana Grande released her 2019 song “Monopoly” with lyrics that reference “liking” women and men, fans were eager to receive a confirmation that Ari was bisexual. She later tweeted that she’s “never” labeled herself and doesn’t “feel the need to.” Far from respecting her decision, other Twitter users disparaged her for feigning a queer identity.
In reference to that last tweet, no one’s bisexuality can be disproven simply because they’ve only dated folks of the opposite gender, and if you’re a girl that has a lot of “fun” kissing other girls, you’re probably not a 0 on the Kinsey scale. But girl-on-girl affection has been fetishized within male-dominated media, making an identity as a bisexual or lesbian woman something one needs to constantly prove in order to be validated by other members of the LGBTQ community.
There are examples of women feigning bisexuality for publicity. In 2010, Nicki Minaj told Rolling Stone that she faked being into girls at the beginning of her career for attention. Jessie J similarly claimed to be bisexual when she first entered the music industry, then came out as straight later. Unlike Nicki, she didn’t cop to lying for attention, she stated that, for her, bisexuality was just “a phase” she went through. Unsurprisingly, bisexual people were still annoyed.
Some pop songs, like “I Kissed A Girl” by Katy Perry or “Cool For The Summer” by Demi Lovato, have portrayed female bisexuality as an experimentation or naughty late-night drunken behavior rather than a legitimate sexual orientation. Lyrics within such tracks are often problematic; Katy says kissing someone of the same sex is “not what good girls do” while Demi whispers “don’t tell your mother” about their summer fling with a woman.
Both songs imply there’s something shameful about lesbian attraction, which is obviously not ideal representation for those with sapphic desires. The accusation that Katy and Demi were queerbaiting for their audiences, however, is a less progressive interpretation than it may seem. The two artists may have presented girl-on-girl action as a casual erotic indulgence, but that doesn’t mean the desires they were expressing were totally void of authentically queer yearnings.
Many of those who confidently identify as bi, pan, or gay began their queer journey through behavior they initially would have categorized as “just experimenting.” Katy Perry, in fact, stated years after the release of her track that she “did more” than “just kiss a girl,” implying that her sexuality isn’t merely defined as a straight woman who occasionally smooches other ladies when she’s drunk. Demi Lovato’s public image has also become increasingly queer, telling Glamour magazine in 2021 that they no longer had interest in being romantic with cis men, preferring to be sexually and romantically involved with women, then coming out as nonbinary shortly after.
Male public figures have fallen under scrutiny as well. When Harry Styles donned a dress on the cover of Vogue in December of 2020, he found himself at the center of controversy with criticisms lobbied from multiple directions. Homophobic conservatives like Candace Owens chastised Harry’s perceived lack of masculinity, while some queer activists bemoaned the fact that a white, presumably cis, straight man was being seen as an ambassador for gender-fluid fashion–especially as the first man to ever grace the cover of American Vogue alone. Among those critics was the openly gay actor Billy Porter, who told The Sunday Times a year later, “I created the conversation[about non-binary fashion] and yet Vogue still put Harry Styles, a straight white man, in a dress on their cover for the first time.”
Billy’s frustration isn’t unreasonable. The black queer community has long been at the forefront of political progress for LGBTQ rights. Much of the vernacular commonly associated with today’s gay community had its origins in ball culture, an underground subculture primarily made up of Black and Latino queer folk. That history is often ignored as cultural signifiers of the ballroom scene were appropriated by more privileged members of the queer community (mostly, white cis gay men) until terms like “shade” and “tea” leaked into the mainstream. It’s not wrong for Billy to feel that his and other black queer folks’ accomplishments have been undervalued for the sake of celebrating public figures with less marginalized identities.
It’s also true that clothing choice is a part of many peoples’ gender presentation, and the queer community has often suffered as a result of homophobic and transphobic rhetoric for pushing the boundaries of fashion as gendered expression. Gender fluid folk cleared the path for men like Harry Styles to wear a dress for one of the world’s most respected fashion magazines. It is a shame that some others weren’t recognized more for their influence on gender norms and fashion prior to Harry’s Vogue cover, but there is something flawed in the implication that Harry hadn’t earned the right to don a dress on such a massive platform simply because he’s presumed to be heterosexual. Straight, cis men wearing clothing traditionally perceived as feminine is a natural outcome of breaking down gendered barriers. Harry Styles’ sexual orientation shouldn’t be nearly as relevant to discussing his chosen outfits as it’s become. But is Harry straight to begin with?
Yet again, audiences are demanding answers that the singer has declined to provide with total clarity. Harry Styles has sung lyrics referencing sexual activity with men and women, waved LGBTQ pride flags at his concerts, and stated that gender identity isn’t “that important” to him in a romantic partner. When asked directly, he’s maintained that he doesn’t want to label himself sexually, telling Better Homes & Gardens in April of this year:
“I've been really open with it with my friends, but that's my personal experience; it's mine. The whole point of where we should be heading, which is toward accepting everybody and being more open, is that it doesn't matter, and it's about not having to label everything, not having to clarify what boxes you're checking."
The Internet reacted to his statement much like it did to Ariana Grande’s.
There are two versions of problematic discourse happening here.
On one end, some are convinced that any celebrity who chooses not to “label” themselves is actually a closeted straight person who won’t come out as heterosexual at risk of losing their queer audience. The assumption that “not openly gay” automatically equals “secretly straight” proves to be historically incorrect, with many “unlabeled” celebrities becoming involved in explicitly queer relationships during their careers–like Miley Cyrus, Raven Symone, and Kristen Stewart.
Despite not defining themselves as lesbians outright, the main characters on Xena: Warrior Princess are unmistakably queer. They kiss on the lips, call one another their “soul mate,” and become involved in same-sex entanglements outside of their relationship with each other. At least three women throughout the series try to kill the titular character, Xena, because they’ve fallen in love with her female partner, Gabrielle. That’s pretty gay, but since Xena and Gabrielle don’t ever call themselves lesbians, the series occasionally makes it onto listicles calling the series another example of queerbaiting. Fans of the show often protest this categorization, but the label sticks because we as a society still position heterosexuality as the default sexual orientation. Straight-until-proven-otherwise is a framework that’s dominated popular culture for centuries, implicitly situating queerness as a deviant characteristic.
Those who’ve been oppressed by heteronormative attitudes in the past are sometimes frustrated by folks like Ariana Grande and Harry Styles for not taking on the label that’s both provided them a much-needed community as well as opened them up to unjust discrimination. They may argue that Harry Styles has received the benefits of that community support through his proximity to queerness, yet has evaded the oppression many LGBTQ people must face.
Setting aside the fact that Harry was personally made a public target for the far-right’s bigotry for wearing a dress without even needing to call himself queer, upholding trauma as a defining characteristic of queerness is a reductive viewpoint that disregards the experiences of many LGBTQ people. We can acknowledge that sexuality exists on a spectrum and that the intersectionalities of identity make some LGBTQ individuals more privileged than others, even in relation to their expressions of queerness, without denying them inclusion in the broader LGBTQ community. Bi or pansexual folk in opposite-sex partnerships may be “straight-passing,” but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still queer. The discovery of one’s sexuality is a deeply personal journey and no one’s path is identical to another’s because LGBTQ identities are not earned via an endurance quota for injustice.
Maybe more important than anything, though, is the fact that no one’s sexuality is anyone’s business but their own.
Recently, actor Lukas Gage responded to a Twitter user’s complaint that he had been cast in 4 LGBTQ roles, writing “If Hollywood can stop hiring non LGBTQIA+ actors like [Lukas] to play LGBTQIA+ characters, that would be great.” Lukas responded pointedly, telling the user that they “don’t know [his] alphabet,” to which the user requested that Lukas “enlighten” the world. What followed is now one of my favorite celebrity tweets to date (right after Lady Gaga’s dig at Adam Levine).
Lukas won the argument in that he clearly ratioed the OP, but some others pushed the idea that Lukas owes it to the “community” to label himself.
As important as community has been in the fight for equality of all genders and sexual orientations, it no one’s individual responsibility to reveal private details of their life in order to be “worthy” of an LGBTQ identity–something that is personal above all else. In the interview in which Harry Styles stated he didn’t want to label his sexuality, he also spoke of his life as a public figure whose privacy was frequently invaded. “For a long time, it felt like the only thing that was mine was my sex life,” he said.
The entitlement to know how public figures identify sexually nearly prompted a public outing earlier this month (happy Pride!). When the Australian publication The Sunday Morning Herald received word that actress Rebel Wilson was in a same-sex relationship, the outlet reached out to Rebel and informed her she had two days to respond to their inquiries before they ran a story that would publicize her LGBTQ status.
Rebel thankfully posted a photo of her and her girlfriend on social media before the Australian paper could publish their story, breaking the news herself that she was in a queer relationship. The fact that she had to do this in order to tell her own story is still disappointing, as was The Sunday Morning Herald’s responding article that essentially complained about the actress swiping their scoop. The write-up has since been removed from the publication’s website, but I had the (dis)pleasure of reading it prior to deletion.
Writer Andrew Hornery implies that outing Rebel wouldn’t have been unethical since she’d been open about her own heterosexual relationships in the past and wasn’t likely to be discriminated against for her sexuality today. He writes,
“[I]n an era when same-sex marriage is legal in many parts of the world and – thanks to decades of battling for equality – sexual orientation is no longer something to be hidden, even in Hollywood.
Up to now, Wilson had identified publicly as a heterosexual woman. It is unlikely she would have experienced the sort of discrimination let alone homophobia – subconscious or overt – that sadly still affects so many gay, lesbian and non-hetero people.”
As an openly gay man himself, it seems Hornery wrongfully believed that his experiences within the LGBTQ community gave him the authority to decide who is or isn’t harmed through the exposure of their private relationships.
If Twitter is any indication, he’s clearly not the only one who thinks this way.