7. Sue Sylvester, Coach Beiste, Santana Lopez, and Unique Adams
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KATHRYN HOBSON 7. SUE SYLVESTER, COACH BEISTE, SANTANA LOPEZ, AND UNIQUE ADAMS Exploring Queer Representations of Femininity on Glee The first episode of Glee first aired May 19, 2009 to an audience of 9,619 viewers (Seidman, 2009). With varying storylines concerning contemporary social issues such as bullying, characters coming out as gay and lesbian, characters dealing with the recession and poverty, and characters experiencing material realities of racial and ethnic differences, Glee has been touted as anti-Christian (Gibbs, 2009) and promoting the “homosexual agenda” (“Victoria Jackson,” 2011) by conservative individuals and political organizations. While the treatment of these controversial topics has been lauded by few, and considered problematic by several (Samtori, 2012), the idea that some representation is better than no representation appeals to many of us who never feel that we are reflected in the media (Samtori, 2012). These few examples of plot lines on Glee challenge the archetypal high school dramedy with the carefully defined jocks, nerds, divas, and rich kids; blurring the lines between these categories of difference. For example, Finn Hudson (Cory Monteith), Noah Puckerman, and Quinn Fabray (Dianna Aragon) are all popular members of the football team or the Cheerios cheerleading squad and also glee club geeks. Glee works to challenge dichotomies of identities, instead relying more on a post-racial (Dubrofsky, 2013), post-feminist take on multicultural issues; opting to satirize, and at times mock the real complexities of oppressed groups. While mostly privileging a white, upper-class, gay male sensibility and aesthetic, most likely due to executive producer, writer, and director Ryan Murphy’s positionality as a white gay man, Glee has offered very little treatment of lesbian characters, relying on Santana Lopez (Naya Rivera) to carry the weight of this complex personal and political identity, opting out of dealing with many of the traditional arguments of lesbianism as a historical act of political resistance to the capitalist, heterosexist, patriarchal social structure (Clark, 2002). Although the topic of lesbian or queer women’s sexuality is rarely touched upon with any nuance or finesse, Glee has its moments of working to challenge the often times hegemonic and problematic notions of what it means to be a woman and be feminine on the show. Juxtaposed with the overly heterosexualized depiction of Rachel (Lea Michele), who desires to marry directly post-high school, Quinn the beautiful blonde head cheerleader espousing purity and chastity despite having had a baby in season B. C. Johnson & D. K. Faill (Eds.), Glee and New Directions for Social Change, 95–107. © 2015 Sense Publishers. All rights reserved. K. Hobson one, and Brittany S. Pierce, the dumb blonde stereotype are four representations of queer femininity: Sue Sylvester, Coach Beiste, Santana Lopez, and Wade/Unique Adams. These characters offer different possibilities for feminine performances on primetime television. I read these characters as challenging traditional feminine aesthetics and relational styles, and in doing so I define a new sense of culture and identity around diverse representations of femininity, where queerness is based on challenging normative assumptions of cis/gender identity and not necessarily sexual norms. Cisgender means that the gender someone was born with is the same gender they identify with as an adult, which gives someone who is cisgender privilege for not being transgender or read as transgender. Johnson (2013) explains “Cisgender privilege is given to persons whose morphology aligns with socially- sanctioned gender categories” (138). Cisgender gender identity is considered to be more authentic and real than transgender identities, leaving those who identify as transgender outside the gender norms for our contemporary U. S. society (Johnson 2013). In the end this broadened definition of queer theory and gender theory, open up spaces for possibilities for new gender identities and expressions that may be outside the norms both in queer academic scholarship and society more broadly. Glee wavers between fantasy and reality; for example, it is highly unlikely that high school students would break out into song to cope with problems, have group hallucinations about Britney Spears and puppets, or where the minimal Glee club budget translates into elaborate props and glamorous costumes. Even more unrealistic is the timing of the show; one minute everyone is in the choir room rehearsing, the next moment they cut to a performance in the auditorium; or the moments when Glee club members walk down the hall singing, yet no one notices what is happening, no one bothers to stop and listen, and instead everyone continues on with their day. Ryan Murphy has been quoted in the media, “There’s so much on the air right now about people with guns, or sci-fi, or lawyers running around…everything’s so dark in the world right now … [Glee is] pure escapism.” (Hoffman, 2013). While fantasy and escape provide the back drop for the show, Glee has also managed to explore a variety of issues currently affecting a wide array of social identities. Yet, Glee, while challenging this fantasy/reality binary, has no doubt impacted the materiality of the cultural landscape of which it is a part; mostly paving the way for differing ideas about identity, especially sexual identity to evolve. This show has both challenged and affirmed archaic stereotypes of gays and lesbians, challenged the pathology of their sexuality as some sort of disease, and allowed for supportive parents of gay children to find representation, while promoting a pro-gay marriage political agenda (Marwick, Gray, & Annany, 2013; Dhaenens, 2012). Much of the current literature has focused on how Glee impacts young adults and their attitudes toward sexuality (Marwick et al., 2013; Meyer & Wood, 2013). No doubt this has had positive impact, and is helping to craft a new, more liberal stance on gay and lesbian rights issues. While this could be lauded, this “normalizing” equality discourse centered around, “we’re just the same as heterosexuals” logic, instead 96.