Soapie writers need to stop limiting queer characters

The world of soaps and telenovelas can be a fun trip into a world unknown or a great escape from our life’s problems. The hardships of adulting don’t suck as when you can relax, sit back and laugh at someone else’s problems.

FILE IMAGE: Lunga Mofokeng during Royalty Soapie Awards at Raddison Hotel and Convention Centre in  Johannesburg.
FILE IMAGE: Lunga Mofokeng during Royalty Soapie Awards at Raddison Hotel and Convention Centre in Johannesburg. (Veli Nhlapo)

The world of soaps and telenovelas can be a fun trip into a world unknown or a great escape from our life’s problems. The hardships of adulting don’t suck as when you can relax, sit back and laugh at someone else’s problems.

And there have been many moments – think of Isidingo’s Cheryl destroying a family one lustful affair at a time. Or The River’s Lindiwe showing up at her ex-husband’s wedding doing everything in her power to upstage the bride. The countless possessions of Marlena on Days of Our Lives had all of us clutching our rosaries and there is yet to be a love triangle that could ever match the power of Taylor, Ridge and Brooke Logan-Forrester.

In this fantastical world of people rising from the ashes, mystical islands and witchcraft that has the accuracy of a Pfizer vaccine, the genre is missing one integral element – where are all the gays?

These genres all around the world amass large audiences. Even the chop n skrew special effects of Indian soaps rake in millions a day. So, these are the kind of shows one can deliver messages to people, normalise ideas and leave its distressed audiences with less stress than when they came in.

It would not be a shocker to see a black couple parent a child, have a soft love scene or even struggle with a divorce. Yet each of the soapies and telenovelas we have, still could pull firsts with each letter of the gay alphabet under these milestones and maladies.

A suspicious issue considering these are often only done during the numerous pride months – as if to suggest every gay male, lesbian woman and trans person they’ve featured only have sexuality and gender specific issues whenever it’s time to wave a rainbow flag.

Both genres are built around melodrama and dramatic chaos yet they often carry a very limited cast in terms of the LGBTQIA+ community. Currently they have been limited to offering only gay men as their representation of the queer community, a narrow-minded idea that limits the identity of queer folk to one trope and one gender identity.

Speaking of, many of these men are already limited to two tropes. Either they are docile, often passive young gay characters like Clement on Skeem Saam or Andile on The River, who often play into the background as characters who often gasp or act shocked in scenes that cover the storyline of someone else. These characters are often burdened by their coming out experiences and succumb to the pressure of it by attempting suicide.

On the other hand, they are gay purses that are flamboyant replacements for the sassy black friend and only get a storyline if it involves the controversial coming out of a character assumed to be straight and their own arranged marriages as per GC on Uzalo.

In limiting the experiences of a wider LGBTQIA+ community on these shows, a stereotype is created where we only see their world through the lens of their heterosexual counterparts or from the restricted experiences of the one character.

Another perfect example of this lies in the limited depiction of differently abled people in the genres. Muvhango’s deaf character that was played by Simphiwe Mkhize was involved in much of the corporate affairs of the show’s milling company and got to have a romantic storyline with one of the show’s male leads.

While the character’s storyline got a lot of attention, it was a short-lived romance with little nuance and the character and others like her were never reintroduced. It failed in comparison to what DTV (SABC 3 magazine programme aimed at people who are deaf and hard of hearing) delivered having even done a mini horror series comprising a majority deaf cast.

Although tragic and dour, the world of queer lives is also as relatable and theatrical as that of homosexuals. What would our soapies and telenovelas lose in exploring the whimsy of being queer outside of the gay male experience?

And perhaps, that is where the problem lies. We seldom get a view into the writing rooms and the scarce table reads that occur behind the scenes. Maybe, there are crumpled up pages that hide long forgotten queer characters we never got to see because audiences are still close-minded.

Would the loyal audiences of the genres quit the shows if they all took it upon themselves to feature more gay characters?

Methinks not.


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