Nick is walking down the street. The camera shot is a close-up of his face. He’s beaming. Filled with joy. His smile encompasses his mouth, his eyes, his hair. He is happy. It’s obvious.
I find myself anxious. I expect the camera to pull back and reveal impending doom.
(Spoiler alert: this is the final scene of season two, episode one of the endearingly sweet Netflix series, Heartstopper, created and written by Alice Oseman, based on her graphic novel.)
The more I thought about the anxiety I was experiencing, the more I realized I’ve been conditioned to expect shame, tragedy, and sadness. At least where gay stories are concerned. I expected there to be a bully. I felt my body tense as I prepared for a verbal attack of faggot or queer. My heartbeat sped up as I feared a fist would invade the frame of the shot and punch the smile off Nick’s face.
But nothing happened to Nick. His smile remained. His joy was uninterrupted.
I, however, had to take a pause.
Upon sharing my experience with two of my gay coworkers, who also watch the series, they too admitted a feeling of anxiety in that same moment. We have not been conditioned to sit back and watch an LGBTQ story play out in film or television that is set in a world of pure gay joy. We’ve been conditioned to expect adversity.
How thrilling it would be to live in a world without this homophobic bully-induced anxiety. As a queer fem human, who is still questioning where he fits on the gender spectrum, I think I would thrive.
Before I step outside my apartment building, I typically feel fabulous, proud, and joyous in my flourishes of nail polish or a cocktail-style ring or high heels or eye makeup. But the minute I step out into the world, I am on guard. Preparing. No matter how many times nothing negative happens to me, I am always on guard. I have been conditioned to be so. Having an awareness of one’s surroundings isn’t a bad thing. But expecting strife is.
It’s disquieting that I can more easily recall the pain and shame I felt when a group of men called me a faggot (for no other reason than they could) as I passed them to enter the building where I work than, say, the positive reinforcement from people who go out of their way to complement my nails or eyes or whatever it is. That’s because the negative moments are more traumatic. They carve out a place in my memories and live there in a darkened corner waiting to remind me why joy is more fleeting than heartache. I wish I knew how to store all the positive experiences the same way. Why do I give more credence to being called a faggot than to being complemented on my choice of nail color…by a straight man no less?
For the record, Heartstopper has proven itself to be nothing but gay joy. That isn’t to say that there aren’t negative experiences within its episodes. But overall, there was no reason for me to anticipate that expected adversity. That’s not the world Nick lives in. I wish I could live in his world.
Gay joy is something I strive to hold on to. And even though I haven’t found that easy, I am grateful for the pure joy of Heartstopper as reference.
In my world, I think it’s time to recondition my condition.
