A few days ago, the documentary Disclosure popped up on my Netflix recommended list. I gave it a watch (although I’m usually not a documentary type of gal), and I was floored by how clearly the interviewees articulated how transgender people have been portrayed in the media and what an impact those depictions had on viewers.

I started to mull over how what we see on screen shapes the world around us. The phrase “representation matters” is repeated so often it almost starts to lose meaning. I decided to take the discussion to my LGBTQ+ community — I wanted to hear personal stories of how their identity was shaped by the queer characters they saw in movies and television. I asked the question: “When was the first time you saw yourself in the media?”

Meredithe Ettrich is a 21-year-old bisexual writer and filmmaker

When I was 16, I snuck away from my family home and drove an hour to D.C. to attend my first pride. I walked into the crowd at Dupont Circle and found groups of queer people lounging on the lush grass, painted limbs tangled together. I looked up expecting the sun and instead found people perched in the trees and traffic lights waving rainbow flags at the parade passing by. I had to repeat the words “everyone here is gay” to myself over and over. I had never been around so many gay people before.

This was the same feeling I had when I discovered the T.V. show The L Word. For a person from a Virginia suburb where the prevalent attitude is “I don’t hate gay people but I personally don’t support the lifestyle,” even seeing lesbian relationships on screen was shocking. But I loved every minute of it, even when I was crying about Dana’s death. To me, it was a show of women being messy, falling in love with other women and making art about it — a path I have followed. I benefitted greatly from seeing a variety of lesbian relationships, it showed me a future I could have.

Because it was so significant to me, I find it necessary to critique it. When I reflect back on the show, I realize the mistreatment of the character Max Sweeney as a pretty clear allegory of transphobia in the LGBTQ+ community. The other characters repeatedly invalidated his identity, and his character arch was more of an unfair downward spiral. Having one of the only transgender characters on tv be there only to be subjected to transphobia just seems cruel. As a gay woman, The L Word was imperative to normalizing Sapphic relationships. But as a writer, it's a lesson in not leaving behind the most marginalized and underrepresented people in our community.

Jocelyn Diemer is an 18-year-old lesbian and a Camp Thirlby counselor

I didn’t really know that gay people existed until I was in middle school. It is thus unsurprising that it took me another six years to figure out that I am, in fact, a lesbian. Although I don’t have a clear memory of the first time I read a book or watched a movie with a specifically gay character (it was probably either Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series or Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments — both of which, feature gay men, not wlw), I do remember having a very strong attachment to the female friendships that I saw represented in literature. From Anne and Diana in Anne of Green Gables to the two princesses in Barbie and the Diamond Castle, I loved reading and watching stories about girls loving each other — and was often disappointed by the inclusion of token male love interests.

The trope that they were “very good friends” is something that plagues the Sapphic community, and I don’t want to undermine that. However, I think that it is important to recognize that homosocial relationships are, in fact, very valuable when it comes to giving young closeted kids something to relate to. Obviously, it would be wonderful to have more overt LGBT representation in children’s media, but for kids like myself who wouldn’t be allowed to consume media with explicitly gay characters, representation of passionate platonic love is vital. Although now that I think of it, my fixation on Anne and Diana may also have something to do with me falling in love with my best friend.

Al is queer and uses she/they pronouns

I was talking to my non-binary friend the other day and we came to the conclusion that we haven’t seen ourselves reflected in media. There are aspects of myself here and there, but never someone I can fully relate to. When there is queer representation it is usually a gay man in a side kick role or a sidelined stereotypical lesbian. As media gets more progressive and includes open asexuals, they forget a key aspect of being queer — questioning. They ignore that a part of the queer experience is questioning society and your role in it. Does the binary of gender fit you? What qualifies as fitting? Am I a bad person for identifying as something but still not be sure? Do I have the energy to come out almost every day? Is my mom right, and I just haven’t found the right person I’d want to have sex with, or do I actually only experience romantic attraction? These moments don’t need to be explicitly verbalized to be understood by a viewer, but they still are absent from the media.

Sam Rosenberg is a 23-year-old bisexual and a Camp Thirlby counselor

I didn't grow up seeing a lot of bisexual men on TV or in film, thanks to the historical and cultural erasure of bi people in the media and, well, just about everywhere else. But in 2015, when I was a freshman in college, I noticed myself identifying with Darryl Whitefeather from the CW musical-comedy Crazy Ex Girlfriend. The show made his character not only explicitly bisexual, but dedicated an entire song around his newfound sexuality: a rollicking, Beach Boys-inspired number called "Gettin' Bi." Yes, it is as corny and goofy as its title suggests, but watching a guy on a mainstream TV series proudly declare that he unequivocally likes men and women — through a rapturous, stereotype-defying jingle no less — was so refreshing and validating.

Darryl Whitefeather from Crazy Ex Girlfriend

It felt like perfect timing, too: I was only starting to get comfortable labeling myself as bisexual and had come out to a smattering of friends. Knowing that I wasn't alone in wrestling with these feelings, I found comfort in Daryl and appreciated how the Crazy Ex writers actually made his bisexuality a vital aspect of his character arc. Now that tons of bi characters exist on TV, one can hope there are more opportunities for young queer individuals to see themselves portrayed on-screen and locate the subtle nuances of their identities in those portrayals.

Sammy Gibbons is a 22-year-old lesbian and a Camp Thirlby counselor

Like most former teens, I came of age watching Degrassi in middle and early high school. I remember feeling something stir in my mind when I was about 15 and the character Fiona Coyne came out as a lesbian. She dated a cute, quirky female character who I remember thinking was beautiful, exactly my type. But I would always second guess those thoughts because I wasn't gay, I couldn't be. I wasn't "supposed to be" queer, much like preppy Fiona wasn't. She exclusively wore dresses or skirts, had long, gorgeous hair. My teenage mind clung to stereotypical characteristics of lesbians as a way to squash any inkling that I might not be straight. But seeing Fiona fall in love with women shattered that false idea.

I began to realize my feelings for a queer friend weren't just platonic, and I don't know that I would have realized that without seeing that same storyline play out on Degrassi and between two cheerleaders in Glee. Fiona embodied the "this isn't normal" fear I think many LGBTQ+ folks experience when they first realize there's something deeper going on, and watching someone my age navigate that on such a popular T.V. show provided me with a sort of road map. It took me another couple years after Fiona graduated fictional high school and I outgrew the series to accept that I'm a lesbian, and another year after that to come out to my family. I'm thrilled to see more and more media portraying young people discovering their sexualities in a variety of ways — not only do those stories need to be normalized and mainstreamed, but they can be crucial escapes and forms of guidance for LGBTQ+ young people who don't necessarily have elsewhere to turn.

Natalie Geisel is a 22-year-old lesbian, dancer and Camp Thirlby’s Lead Camp Counselor

As an avid fan of queer media (I like to think that I’ve seen every lesbian fim and series, twice), it’s hard to pinpoint exactly one character or plotline where I truly felt seen. I’d like to say that my life is just like Portrait of a Lady on Fire, but tragically, a hot French woman has never had the privilege of secretly painting me. Instead, I have to go back to when I was 18, freshly graduated from my conservative high school, ready to take on college and my repressed desire to date women. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was a raging lesbian, and watching the classic But I’m A Cheerleader began to clarify that (although I didn’t start using the term “lesbian” to describe myself until eight months, give or take, later). After years of obsessing over Buffy and being a bit too into Willow and Tara’s relationship and Faith’s looks (but refusing to see it as reflective of my own queerness), I decided to watch Jamie Babbit’s film during a late summer evening — one where I was yearning after my first girl crush who had already left for college.

But I’m A Cheerleader (2000) — *But I’m A Cheerleader* (2000)

No, I’m not a cheerleader, and no, I have never been sent to the conversion therapy camp featured in the movie, but I felt strangely at home with the on-the-nose visuals (like the boob-filled opening scene) and campy jokes. I began to feel Megan’s refusal to believe in her own queerness, but I was certain of one thing — that I would do anything for Graham, the hottie played by Clea Duvall. Seeing Megan get those first time butterflies for Graham and actually get the girl at the end gave me all sorts of lesbian hope. I finally realized that I could be in a fulfilling relationship with a woman, and although my continuous path to queerness took a bit more queer content and Sapphic characters, Natasha Lyonne and Clea Duvall’s wholesome lesbian romance amidst the turmoil of homophobic institutions and family members was my first glimpse into realizing I was really, really gay.

Cal Veatch is gay and he is a Virginia-based musician

I’m still kind of waiting [to see myself in the media]. I’m more than happy to see all these openly gay men on TV and in the media, but I’ve never identified with them. I usually only see them portrayed as flamboyant and stereotypical. Which just isn’t my experience. It still makes me happy to know that we’ve come far enough that they’re on TV at all.

Thea Fuentes is a 27-year-old bisexual thought leader

In my last week of high school, I got into a relationship with a girl. It had to be a secret. At the time, I had just become a Christian and I wanted to be good. After two weeks, I told someone in my church what was going on and they told me to immediately cut it off and cut her off. So I did.

Two years later I’m in college, well into my faith and going to school for full time ministry. That same girl started texting me again and told me to watch the show Pretty Little Liars because it reminded her of us. I started watching it and all of those suppressed feelings came rushing back. I ended up stopping watching it, even though it was one of my favorite shows.

Holly is a 22-year-old lesbian

So I think for me, the first time I felt seen in the media was when I secretly watched Water Lillies on YouTube in 2013 (the lesser known, debut film by Céline Sciamma, the director of Portrait of a Lady on Fire). I had no idea I was gay at the time, but there was something about the movie that 14 year old me loved so much. Looking back now, it was because they were lesbians lovers around my age.

Water Lilies (2007) — *Water Lilies* (2007)

Officially, the first time I felt seen was probably the episode “San Junipero” from season three of Black Mirror. When I saw the two women falling in love, I realized it was something that I had wanted and related to for a long time. This episode didn’t immediately make me realize I was gay, but the pure and not overly sexualized depiction of lesbians really made me see myself in popular media.

About the Author

Meredithe Ettrich (she/her) is a filmmaker and writer. After beginning her career as a freelance photographer she found her place in the world of storytelling and hasn’t looked back since. When she doesn’t have a camera around her neck she is baking or reading books about art history. You can follow her on Instagram or Twitter to see her work.

Jul 6 Reflecting Queerness: How LGBTQ+ People See Themselves in the Media

Meredithe Ettrich is a 21-year-old bisexual writer and filmmaker