If You’re Gay, Don’t You Dare Be Happy
I thought I’d share this blog post here because it brings up a lot of issues I have with regard to literary portrayals of gay characters. It also makes me think about certain attitudes some readers have toward genre fiction versus realistic fiction.
Media has, slowly but surely, expanded its tropes from the completely sexless-stereotyped comic relief and the overly sexed predator – we can now have sex AND fall in love. YES, gay men can LOVE, we really can! We have partners, we can kiss, we can show tenderness to each other, we can do long lingering, loving stares (albeit all in a fashion that is far far far more sanitised than any straight depictions) – but it comes with a price. Death. And Lesbians, don’t you be getting comfortable – unless you’re regularly getting it on for the titillation of male audiences you’re also due for a short trip to the nearest cemetery.
Yes, death. That old old old cliche that being gay will result in an early (and often horrible) death. It’s the wages of sin, the result of the naughty gayness, divine punishment, however else they want to portray it – in the end a happy gay man or lesbian has to pay the price in tragic suffering, grief and an early death. If you’re lucky, you and your partner MAY survive if you have sufficient source of grief and pain in your life – then you can both be Tortured & Angsty and enjoy a slightly longer lifespan. Read more
I’ve read and reviewed a number of gay books that were written in the 19th century all the way to the 1960s. In those instances, when the author was obviously writing from experience or was trying to hold up a mirror to social attitudes that were prevalent in his time, I can certainly expect downer endings, with gay characters dying in one way or another — or, at best, living alone, broken inside. Though there were some homosexuals who managed to fly under everyone’s radar and successfully enjoy happy lives with people they loved, death, isolation, or a deeper spot in the closet were the norm decades and centuries ago.
Nowadays, we’ve got a slow eroding of prejudices toward the GLBT community (hope definitely lies in each new generation of socially liberal voters), and we see more young people coming out to supportive families and social circles, regardless of religious beliefs. And I think that literature as well as the media should reflect that shift in attitude, however gradually.
Yeah, I know, I’m beating a dead horse with this post, but I feel passionately about this because when it comes to YA fiction, not only are we authors responsible for shaping young readers’ views about the world, but we’re also given the responsibility of helping them shape their perceptions of themselves. And there’s absolutely no reason why we shouldn’t allow kids to enjoy escapist, affirmative fiction that also puts them at the helm of the story.
A reader of this article at the LLF’s website makes the erroneous assumption that because the scope of GLBT YA is expanding beyond problem novels, that real life issues will become a thing of the past. Not at all, and judging from the YA books recently released that have been receiving accolades left and right, problem novels will always have a place in GLBT YA fiction. If anything, mainstream publishers tend to prefer problem novels to genre fiction for GLBT teens in their acquisitions.
The danger, as Spark in Darkness notes, is the too-heavy reliance on stories that end tragically. Yes, it’s tough being gay, especially when you’re young. Yes, there are still tragic incidents of kids committing suicide because of homophobia or fear or rejection, and there are still families who fail to grasp the basic principles of humanity and kick their children out after their kids come out to them. It’s important for literature to address those issues, but they shouldn’t be the only subjects worth writing about. Kids can learn much from these stories, but there’s also the risk of teaching them that nothing but heartbreak and tragedy await them because of their sexual orientation.
Kids should be shown and be reassured that they’re just as deserving of happiness as their straight peers, and one way of reaching them is through literature. There’s nothing wrong with what some readers call “fluff,” especially if more and more kids not only come out at an earlier age, but more and more come out to supportive families and friends.
And it’s not just gay kids, either. If anything, straight people, regardless of age, should be exposed to more books that portray gay characters as multi-dimensional with experiences that run the gamut, not just hapless victims of prejudice. What the GLBT community — especially its youngest members — need from them isn’t pity, but, rather, affirmation and understanding.
