So, I spent the day making notes for this blog post, part of a “No Chill Week” for my new favorite show, Wynonna Earp (because this fandom, myself included, has no chill). And, in true Monica fashion, I can’t find them. In an unusual twist, neither can my wife.
So, as you’re reading this, just remember how good it could have been, I guess.
Guys, Wynonna Earp has representation of all of the people — for days — and it’s a big freaking deal.
First of all, though this is far less personal for me, let me say how awesome it is that a person of color is shown as a viable romantic lead. I’m not saying it never happens, but outside of a Shonda Rhimes show, it’s unusual. And it’s awesome and sexy and hot and believable and amazing.
So, I’m a gay. As I have said many, many times before (just look at my previous three posts), it’s unusual to see myself onscreen. And it means something when I do. And if you’re used to seeing yourself everywhere, well, it’s not a feeling I can describe. Sometimes, especially in my younger days — you know, before I owned my awesomeness — it felt like I was the only person in this world like me. Gay. Nerdy. Et cetera.
And Wynonna Earp gently picks up this “normalcy” of other shows — gay characters few and far between, disposable women only there to advance a hereronormative storyline — gently packs it up in its U-haul, and moves it to Canada, where it evolves into something else.
I literally could go scene by WayHaught scene and talk about why each and every word, touch, look, and heart eyes means something to me.
But I will try and be succinct.
Instead, I will talk about two scenes which really stuck out to me because of representation. They both take place in the penultimate episode of the season, “House of Memories.”
First, the good. Waverly descends the staircase, eyes only for Nicole, as they see each other for the first time at Bobo’s party.
I know, I know. This is from that episode but not that scene. But the look is the same. Stay with me. I lost like an hour of writing time looking for those notes. (Photo copyright SyFy)
How many times have one of us wanted to see a woman look at us like that? I’m willing to bet a lot, and I’m willing to bet it has happened to quite a few of us.
But it’s so much rarer to see it on TV. That look — that one of love where your heart is ready to burst out of your chest because that other person is so perfect — it’s never me. Is never us. And this time it was.
Thank you for that, SyFy. Emily. Kat and Dom. Beau. Everyone. Thank you. I love you.
And thank you for the next scene, too — the one that is so much harder to write about. The one that I know so many of us have lived in one way or another but seldom see validated onscreen. That’s just as important even though it’s a thousand times more painful.
I saw all that, you know.
Not now, Champ.
So you two are like together now, eh? That’s disgusting. Disgusting.
I heard some version of this every day — Every day — for a very long time. From a lot of people. Sometimes from myself. And just because I can get married now doesn’t mean I don’t still hear it. It’s not always as blatant, you know. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes they don’t even know they’re doing it. But it’s there.
And so, once again, Wynonna Earp shows me myself.
Because representation isn’t always about the good. It’s important to show people the bad is still out there, because it is.
Thank you for that, SyFy. Emily. Kat and Dom and Dylan. Beau. Everyone. Thank you. I love you.
Representation is important. Even now — at 39, married, established, confident, happy — it means so much to me. If 15-year-old Monica — depressed, anxious, sad, lonely, alone, desperate to fit in, thinking she never would — watched this show, I can unequivocally say it would change her life. Give her a confidence in the knowledge that, hey, I’m not alone.
“There I am.”