I have written at length about the importance of inclusion. A diverse cast enriches your world and elevates your story from black and (mostly) white to Technicolor-vivid. But it’s more than just different ethnic groups.
When you write other sexual orientations, other gender identities into your cast, you not only have the opportunity for diverse voices but you also get considerable perspective on a world beyond CIS men and women. The challenge, however, is to avoid stereotypes and cliches. As with different ethnic and cultural groups, respectfully approaching LGBTQ characters is the baseline.
“Doctors can bury their mistakes, lawyers have to live with theirs.” Charles Hamilton Houston, pioneering Civil Rights Attorney
Writers have to live with their mistakes, too. I have read that later in life, Robert B. Parker regretted the depiction of LGBTQ folks in his early novels. He began with gay men as predators or hustlers in God Save the Child, but eventually evolved to writing both Gino Fish (a gay mobster and stand-up guy in Night Passage) as well as Lee Farrell, (an out gay detective in Paper Doll). Both are fully-formed depictions of gay men at oposit ends of the legal spectrum. Neither are stereotypes or played for gags.
Which one is gay?
Parker’s enlightenment is probably due to the fact that both of his sons are gay—but not necessarily—which is why credible depictions are so very important.
Frank Herbert wrote the groundbreaking novel Dune and five other novels in the same universe. He depicted women as fully formed, individuals with agency and agenda, heroisism and menance. Further, he was one of the first science fiction writers to positively depict other ethnic groups, other religions, and other cultures as equal-to-if-not-better-than terms.
His blind spot, indeed his bigot spot, was sexual orientation. For all his far-sighted view on women and non-western, non-white cultures, Frank's work still included violent homophobia. If the predatory-gay Baron isn’t enough, Children of Dune, features a conversation where his Fremen leader, Stilgar, states that gay men contribute nothing to the sietch, (tribe) and would therefore be lynched.
Herbert’s blatant prejudice is (somewhat) softened by the time God Emperor of Dune was published in 1981. While one lead character is outraged after witnessing an intimate moment between two women, another character dismisses it as "permissible" in experimentation. The stinch of stigma remains. Bruce Calvin Herbert, gay-rights activist and Frank's youngest son, died of AIDs related pneumonia in 1993.
How NOT to: tropes to avoid
The gay bestie who only exists to wisecrack with your protag—don’t, just don’t. Purses, hats, little dogs, little dogs with hats: all accessories. Gay men are human beings and if you plan on writing the other, write the other as people with their own agency and asperations. No, George should not be sitting on a shelf waiting for Jules to need him to be fabulous, (My Best Friend’s Wedding).
LGBTQ folks did NOT come out of the closet for you to bury them in your story
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| Jenette Goldstein as Pvt. Vasquez |
I grew up working with butch women. Many were veterans. Most had taken some lumps over their orientation. So when James Cameron’s 1987 film, Aliens, debuted I was THRILLED to see Vasquez who looked like the badasses I had worked with in professional kitchens and in the oil fields.
Her death—like a BOSS—still stung.
The How dare you? in how-NOT-to
Renly Boratheon, Loras Tyrell, Oberyn Martell—all gay/bi men killed, often horrifcally on Game of Thrones. "Yeah, but groundbreaking realistic fantasy drama..."
Cicily is murdered saving her lover in Northern Exposure—a SITUATION COMEDY.
In the 90s, J. Michael Straczynski's Babylon 5 broke massive ground with it's positive depictions of LGBTQ folks...and then Talia Winters is mind-wiped, (basically murdered) after she establishes a relationship with Susan Ivanova—and I was beyond stung. I was angry at the lazy writing.
But wait, there’s more! Or, less...
No one has a monopoly on LGBTQ characters written badly. For every The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, (EXCELLENT representation and FUN) there are six Silence of the Lambs, (not-so excellent representation). Thomas Harris wrote dialogue where FBI Agent Clarince Starling states that there is no link between transgender identity and violence, (quite the opposit actually) for nothing. Silence of the Lambs director, Jonathan Demme took great pains to repeatedly lens Hannibal Lecter declaring that the killer, Buffalo Bill, was not truly transexual—for no practical effect.
The scene of Jame Gumb, (a fractured name for a fractured killer) dancing around with tucked genitals, in semi-drag remains iconic for all the worst reasons and continues to fuel prejudices 30 years later. But Harris and Demme didn’t start this fire. William Friedkin's Cruising and Brian De Palma’s Dressed to Kill both exploited anti-LGBTQ biases a decade earlier.
Who does it well?
Chester Himes wrote respectfully of gay men and the love they shared not only in his literary novels but also in his crime novels. That may be because Himes was bisexual. Still, that did not always translate to screen adaptations of Himes' work.
It took director Bill Duke' 1991 film, A Rage in Harlem, actualized Himes’ prose from the 1957 novel. Instead of a predatory drag queen or a transexual “character” staged for laughs and abuse, Duke gave us Big Kathy, (played by Zakes Mokae) a trans-woman with loyalty and great affection for Goldie (Gregory Hines). Goldie's tears for Big Kathy speak to reciprocity.
Patricia Highsmith's The Price of Salt was a novel that dared to dipict a lesbian relationship that didn't end in death for one or both. Poignant and honest, Todd Haynes' 2015 film Carol is faithful to a novel. Highsmith's novel, published under a nom de plume in 1952, could've just as easily ended her career and resulted in her publisher's ruin.
If your villain is LGBTQ, balance is imperative
John Grisham’s novel The Client begins with a mob lawyer snatching a child, terrorizing the child, and then committing suicide in front of the child. Grisham takes the next 600-ish pages to show us that not all lawyers are bad guys mainly by showing two opposing lawyers tripping over each other to save the kid.
Not all military commanders...
In Tony Scott’s Crimson Tide, (1995) Gene Hackman’s Ramsey (an old-white-military commander) becomes the antagonist to Denzel Washington’s Hunter, (young staff officer on the come-up) a do-right man.
George Dzunda’s Cob, (another old-white-military man) sides with Hunter. He sides with Hunter not because he likes him but because Hunter is right—by the book. It is a clear “not all old-white-military commanders” moment.
See a pattern?
The best contemporary (popular) example I can point to—believe that I looked for others—is Outlander. Author Diana Galbadon wrote her first baddie, Captain Jack Randall as a sadistic gay rapist. She also wrote the Duke of Sandringham as nothing more than a rancid gay stereotype with some expositional properties.
He has books of his own, he should have a show of his own, too.
Thankfully, she also wrote Lord John Grey. Grey is an English Army officer and a reluctant ally to heroes Claire and Jamie. He is also a gay man. The redemptive part, the part that makes Grey’s inclusion invaluable is that he expresses and attraction to Jamie but without threat or violence or any form of coercion. When Jamie rebuffs Grey’s advance, Grey continues to treat Jamie with respect and dignity. They become friends.
Like writing about any other person that you respect and love
It’s just that easy. Instead of pummeling the reader with outdated and bigoted stereotypes or offereing up your gay darlings as sacrifices for CIS characters to live happily-ever-after, write the character with heart and soul. Just like all of your other characters.
The photo at the top, "Outlander Title Card" belongs to Sony Pictures Television, et al. It is used here, for educational/instructional purposes, as covered by the Fair Use Doctrine.
