1. One annoying thing I hadn't anticipated about growing older is reading 'criticism' and reviews by writers who assume that readers are the same age as they are. "According to me," they will write (in so many words), "here are some things that were very popular in the 1980s and 1990s; let me explain why these things were so awesome and have influenced this important piece of work I want to draw your attention to." It doesn't seem to occur to them that roughly fifty percent of the population was alive during this period of time and perhaps is not in need of an 'explainer.'
2. This kind of review is very common for television set in the 1980s, such as 'Stranger Things' and 'Glow' and 'Halt and Catch Fire' and other nostalgia-laden shows that look back and say, 'wow, the 1980s were kind of awesome, amirite or what?' and, because nostalgia is the junk food of emotions, lots of people are happy to agree. These shows have brown plaid interiors, mullets, references to E.T. and Ghostbusters, huge computer monitors, and similar fare. More to the point of this post, there are no serious representations of non-straight people, although there might be a nod at their/our existence, either through an otherwise straight character who 'experiments' or is perhaps deeply closeted and 'hasn't figured it out yet,' which allows the writers an escape hatch in which they can seem 'pretty woke' but don't have to 'make a big deal about it.' At times 'The Americans' -- a very straight show -- veered into this territory of nostalgia but mostly managed to avoid it because the show was ultimately about a family being torn apart by political forces beyond their control, which is a relevant theme In These Times.
3. 'Pose' is set in the 1980s -- it explores 'house ball culture' in Harlem -- and while the show is adorned with fashion and architectural references to the time period, it doesn't feel nostalgic because it's about people (non-white, non-straight, transgender) who have long existed on the margins of society and -- beyond the margins -- popular television. It's been interesting to see critics struggle to find a vocabulary to describe 'Pose.' They often feel compelled to ease into an endorsement. 'I don't usually like shows like this,' is something I recently read, 'but Pose is very good!' The writer did not specify what was meant by 'shows like this.'
4. These critics, like the shows they write about, do not seem to have malicious intentions so much as they seem oblivious, incapable of understanding that, in terms of meaningful representation, 'evolution' and 'nods to someone's existence' are not enough if you happen to identify with the character whose existence is at question, particularly when such a nod is rooted in outdated stereotypes and misconceptions (see, for example, Bash from GLOW, who the writers seem to think doesn't know he's gay, but want viewers to know he's gay because he has a lot of pictures of male wrestlers on the wall; he also cries for a few seconds when his 'friend' dies of AIDS offscreen). In the same way these writers can't envision someone of a different age, they can't envision someone of a different gender or sexual orientation, and what it might be like for such a person not only to watch the show but also to read the review.
5. I've read maybe 50,000 fawning reviews of GLOW and not a single one has said "despite being alive in the year 2018, the writers of this show seem very uncomfortable with homosexuality, which is odd because they take such pains to depict other contemporary 'hot-button' issues related to gender and racial stereotypes and inequality."
6. This lack of critical awareness (and empathy), when I fixate on it -- like the underlying homophobia that inhibits discussion of these truths -- makes me angry, but I've trained myself over forty-plus years of watching television (and living) to compartmentalize this anger, to set it aside while I enjoy other facets of the show (or life) that don't make me feel small, ashamed, or inferior. Except sometimes the anger seeps out, and when it does -- and when I recognize it (which is not always) -- I realize how tired I am of it. The anger is not unjustified, but it reinforces the feelings of inferiority and shame I want/need to escape.
7. This dynamic of anger and fatigue is the reason I felt validated watching Hannah Gadsby's new standup special 'Nanette,' in which she comes out as 'tired' and explains why comedy -- particularly the kind that makes lesbians the punch line (maybe all of it?) -- is something she no longer wants to endure. In about an hour, she takes on the 20th century (which for these purposes hasn't ended) and shows how personally destructive, violent, and -- yes -- toxic our culture has been to those who for whatever reason are perceived as 'different' in the contexts of sexual identity or gender.
8. When the show ended, I wanted to see her to do a series in which she tackled other areas such as publishing and government and the modern workplace and twenty others where stereotypes demean those who are perceived as different, and where internalized hatred obliterates any chance of solidarity. I want straight people to ask how they can bear to live with themselves, which is the explicit and implicit question I've had to confront pretty much constantly my entire life. Unfortunately, Hannah Gadsby is only one person, and she's already tired.
9. But what she's done is heroic. The next time I see or hear something shallow or mean spirited or unfunny or offensive (i.e., every single time I turn on the television or go online or leave the house), I'll think of Hannah Gadsby and know that I'm not wrong to be angry.
10. And that I'm also not wrong, when I'm tired of this anger and its limitations, to search out my favorite plants and animals, who like me will never understand why people act the way we do.
