There aren’t enough plots in the cemetery for all the Queer characters butchered before their time. The #BuryYourGays trope has claimed countless fictional lives and, without fail, the hashtag will be trending after each untimely passing to mark the occasion. The trope itself had its inception at a time when homophobic legislation backed Queer artists into a corner, leaving them to either kill off their representative characters or not include them at all. Now, at least in Hollywood, the trope serves no noble purpose other than to exploit Queer trauma for viewership and shock value. These stories have become so disrespected that they’re being dragged from our screens entirely.
“Bury Your Gays” refers to the trope in which Queer or Queer-coded characters are more likely to meet a gruesome, tragic end than their cishet counterparts. Thus they are treated as more expendable and become punished by their storylines. In the Victorian era, it gave Queer artists the freedom to incorporate Queer stories without being persecuted for “endorsing homosexuality,” which was illegal at the time. The unfair treatment of Queer characters was necessitated by the context of the time to even justify their existence. With works like “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and “Hamlet,” the Queer-coded character deaths served a larger purpose within the story, they even granted those characters the gift of life, but they remained to punish those same characters for their Queerness.
We’ve moved beyond the point of needing this trope to include scraps of representation in so many parts of the world, especially in Hollywood. Now, rather than being used to lovingly provide an ounce of representation for an underserved community, it is used to exploit members of that community. TV and movies boast their inclusivity within their cast of characters to garner Queer viewers until they brutally kill those characters off. Queer characters rarely get a happy ending, and Sapphic characters have such an infinitesimal chance of one that this trope has often been nicknamed “Dead Lesbian Syndrome.” From Tara (Amber Benson, “Chance”) on “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” to Lexa (Alycia Debnam-Carey, “Saint X”) on “The 100,” lesbian characters meet their end just when they finally find unbridled joy. Even one of the most well-loved Sapphic shows of all time, “Killing Eve,” couldn’t resist jumping headfirst into this trope — literally.
In the final five minutes of the series, one of the two Queer leads is shot and left to sink to the bottom of the ocean. Lauded as one of the worst endings of all time, this conclusion completely betrays the heart of the show. “Killing Eve” follows a psychopathic assassin, Villanelle (Jodie Comer, “Free Guy”) and MI5 agent Eve Polastri (Sandra Oh, “Grey’s Anatomy”) in their cat-and-mouse chase. Each of them becomes infatuated with the other and they form a real, romantic connection. In the words of its original showrunner, Phoebe Waller-Bridge (“Fleabag”), “Every moment in this show exists so that these two women can end up alone in a room together.” This was such a refreshing assurance for audiences so used to watching their favorite characters be butchered by executives who don’t understand or value them. The problem arose, as it inevitably does, when the show was passed onto a showrunner who didn’t understand the core value of the series.
Laura Neal (“Sex Education”) made the decision to kill Villanelle off in the same episode that she finally got to have her first kiss with Eve. Never mind that this death made no sense for her character arc — an arc all about atoning for past sins and learning to love those around her — or the fact that this devastating final blow came just after what could’ve been a happy ending. Waller-Bridge understood that this kind of ending would be a “betrayal to the audience,” but Neal’s push for easy shock-value won out in the writer’s room. Essentially, she gave up on their story. That’s not to say all instances of Queer death or pain in media are guilty of abusing “bury your gays.” On the contrary, it would be ridiculous to expect immortality for Queer characters in genres that expect tragedy to befall all its characters. But there’s a difference between asking for immortality and asking for basic respect.
A great example of how to treat these stories with the care they deserve without sacrificing emotional impact is HBO’s “The Last of Us.” Its post-apocalyptic setting requires major character deaths and trauma, but these aspects are not heavily relegated to only the Queer characters. The third episode of season one features the death of two Queer characters, Bill (Nick Offerman, “Parks and Recreation”) and Frank (Murray Bartlett, “The White Lotus”), but it first gives them one of the most beautiful love stories ever played out on screen. When they do meet their end, it’s peacefully after a long happy life together. This is as close to a happy ending as anyone can get in the hopeless world of “The Last of Us,” and it maintains the tragic themes of the series without sacrificing the characters’ dignity. Yes, they die, but the show doesn’t bury its gays. Their story is lovingly put to rest rather than being shoved into an early grave.
Some Queer stories aren’t even afforded a funeral; they’re simply chopped off at the head and left to bleed out on the cutting room floor. The Hollywood machine’s hunger for profit has put so many incredible projects into an early grave — from DC’s completely finished “Batgirl” movie being shelved before release to canceling “The Wilds” after two very popular seasons. However, it seems that shows centering Queer, and specifically Sapphic, characters are treated especially poorly. One after another, these shows are axed despite extremely high ratings and viewership. On top of #BuryYourGays, Queer audiences now have to worry about #CancelYourGays as more of their stories are deemed too unimportant to warrant continuation. “Teenage Bounty Hunters,” “Gentleman Jack,” “First Kill,” “I Am Not Okay With This,” and so many more show just how widespread this is. Well-loved series like “Warrior Nun” and “A League of Their Own” have gained cult followings due to their nuanced, reverent portrayal of Queer relationships. Their fans delivered with viewership, garnering profit for the shows’ respective production companies, only to be told that the stories they love so much are not worth telling anymore. Both of these shows were canceled within two seasons despite considerable fan efforts to get them renewed. #SaveWarriorNun was trending on social media for months; the effort grew to the point of billboards being put up by fans to garner support. All for nothing.
Disney+’s “Willow” series is the latest in this line to meet an untimely end. The sequel series to the 1998 cult film of the same name, it followed the first lesbian Disney princess, Kit Tanthalos (Ruby Cruz, “Mare of Easttown”) and her friends on a fantasy quest to save her brother. A scene at the end of its first season hinted toward a three-season arc, but it was canceled after only one. Fans were devastated to see an inspired, diverse Lucasfilm production end but were dealt another punch when it was announced that the show would be removed from streaming altogether. “Willow” has been explicitly wiped from history. This sends the message that not only do Queer stories not deserve to be continued, but they don’t deserve to be preserved or remembered, either. The film, like the series, did not have a large following upon release, but it grew to have a dedicated cult fan base. The show has already started to do the same, though, now it will be practically impossible to access.
It’s not only infuriating to have Queer stories torched like this; it’s harmful. Psychologists Sarah C. Gomillion and Traci A. Giuliano’s 2011 study “The Influence of media role models on gay, lesbian, and bisexual identity” found that media representation is directly tied to a majority of people’s “process of self-acceptance … as queer people.” These stories change how LGBTQ+ individuals view and find themselves. They mean something to the community, and to watch them be destroyed has devastating impacts. Hollywood has backed the Queer community into a Victorian corner. Audiences can either watch these characters suffer or have them be stripped away. It’s not a fair bet, especially when the same companies chopping up these stories are the first to wave a rainbow flag during Pride Month. They boast of their support for the community only to turn around and exploit Queer audiences’ pain. Now, it’s more important than ever to fight back against this exploitation and cling to stories that treat LGBTQ+ characters with respect. “The Last of Us,” “Portrait of a Lady on Fire,” “But I’m a Cheerleader” and so many more incredible projects are shining examples to turn to. Audiences can start to pose our own ultimatum: Give us stories that treat us with respect, or we’ll watch something else.
Daily Arts Writer Mina Tobya can be reached at [email protected].