Beyond tokenism: Fleshed-out queer characters in film and TV 

For eternity, media has been doused in cis heteronormativity, forcing a vast minority into the shadows. If queerness was never spoken about, then it didn’t exist, right? 

If there was a barrier between the two worlds, then no one would ever need to know the other had any life within it.  

From Glee to Heartstopper, society has begun to notice. We are seeing a pattern of representation that is slowly transcending from the devastating tragedies, and into what can be called the ‘norm’. 

No longer are we the ‘quirky gay best friend’, but rather the fleshed out main character with an actual distinguished personality.  

Nevertheless, it is becoming more and more evident that, despite having the representation on screen, there is such a lack within some of the most crucial elements of creating media: the writers room. 

Where the story even begins to take form, we find a group of, quite usually, cisgender heterosexual individuals trying their best to understand what the world is like for any queer person. 

Given, it is (sometimes) in good faith, just wanting to provide a space where people unlike them can finally have a voice, but where is that voice coming from? Because it is not coming from the marginalised communities themselves.  

Throw your mind back to 2016. If you were in any way active in online spaces such as Tumblr or Twitter, you may recognise the word Skam, or even Evak, even without knowing an ounce of Norwegian. 

A geoblocked show from a Scandinavian country that popularised through an unlikely medium: Google Drive. Unique in its format - one of a kind, even - following each character through social media, timed scenes, and text messages, Skam grew in popularity due to the third season. Main character, Isak Valtersen (Tarjei Sandvik Moe), goes through a journey of self-discovery upon meeting a new student, Even Bech Næsheim (Henrik Holm).

Skam, however, is not the main focus here. It is the baseline. Upon its popularity, several countries attempted to replicate and create their own versions of the show. From France to the Netherlands, Skam became an international success.  

Our focus is on the German remake, Druck. The crucial factor in speaking about having minority groups within the writers room. Season three of each Skam focused on a queer storyline, as well as a mental health storyline. 

Boy meets boy. Boy suffers tragically throughout the season with his own struggles, and those of his newfound love. Boys learn to love, in spite of all of this.  

Druck created its own world. We follow Matteo Florenzi (Michelangelo Fortuzzi)  as he falls in love with David Schreibner (Lila’s von Horbatschewsky). To fall in love, first and foremost, with a person is a main theme of this season. 

Matteo fell in love with David. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Later on, after a span of isolation and panic, David comes out as transgender, and Matteo learns to either love David as he is, or move on with his life.  The importance of David’s storyline is that it is the first within the Skam universe. 

No other remake has managed to expand outside of the baseline of the original series, following its pathway almost identically. 

Druck, on the other hand, took the themes, plots, and ideas, and flipped them - used them in different ways, tactics, and so forth.  

Storylines with such sensitivity like this one can not be handled just by another group of cisgender heterosexual people. In no way is it possible to truly grasp the extent of any struggle that any trans person goes through, without even speaking to a trans person. 

Lukas, in fact, wrote several episodes, and was consulted throughout to make sure of his character, and his life was done justice. 

From the intense conversation with Matteo about David’s experiences at his last school, to David’s medical transition, the care that was put into this character, not only because he was played by a trans man, but because that actor was in the room when the scripts were being created, it brings to light an incredibly important issue.  

Representation is nothing if there is no representation in all aspects of film and TV. On screen, it is crucial for people to see themselves, but can they hear themselves? Are their voices being thrown into the wind, hoping someone will catch on and understand, or are they simply being forgotten about?

Care needs to be taken with queer media. We need the media to represent us, not a caricature of what people think we are. 

The idea of “seen, not heard” is damaging, to say the least.  

We can be a pretty face on a screen, but what about those of us who do not want to be on the screen, but behind it? 

What about those of us who want to be part of raising the voices of those of us who never go to do so?  

Druck may not be the first, nor the last, to have queer - specifically trans - people in the writers room, but it is vital to learn from it. To understand that even small, geoblocked shows that are primarily watched through a very unlikely medium can have a big impact. 

Queer people deserve to be heard. Even if it’s in the most unexpected of places.