In recent years, queer-centered narratives and storylines have flourished greatly within mainstream media. One such instance of LGBTQ+ stories being placed in the spotlight is the Netflix program Heartstopper, based on the book series by Alice Oseman. Heartstopper highlights young LGBTQ+ relationships in a lighthearted, approachable manner, acting as both a form of education and entertainment for audiences of all ages – a kind of media that I would have truly appreciated growing up as a gay child. Despite the “sunshine and rainbows” lens that Heartstopper places on queer relationships, the series tackles situations that aren’t as light as well. This is where problems begin to arise…
The show’s most recent season, which aired this October, follows 16-year-old protagonist Charlie Spring’s battle with a newly developed eating disorder. While this plotline had the potential to leave a meaningful impact on the show’s audience, I feel that the program’s approach to this sensitive topic stopped my heart in an unintended way. I found that the hyper-positive, warm depictions of queer teen romance that flood Heartstopper diminished and romanticized the role of what could – and should – have been a pertinent addition to this mainstream presentation of LGBTQ+ youth.
Throughout the third season of Heartstopper, the connection of illness and art becomes a funnel through which Charlie’s ED becomes romanticized. A common visual theme used throughout the series is the incorporation of cartoon drawings that emerge and surround a character on screen when they are undergoing a moment of revelation or self-reflection, typically one holding a positive connotation. The style used in these images is quite soft, resembling the linework of a crayon on a sketchbook. Such artistic portrayals of emotion are often tied to Charlie while he partakes in artistic activities, such as journaling or playing the drums. In season 3 of the show, these cartoon images begin to be used to reflect more negative feelings that Charlie possesses while performing these artistic tasks – feelings that we come to learn are tied to his ED.
The choice to incorporate this soft editing style into the portrayal of a serious journey in Charlie’s adolescence highlights a notion emphasized by scholar Maya Phillips (2022) in her work, Nerd: Adventures in Fandom: the romanticization of the “anxious, depressed artist” (p. 190). By plastering animated cartoon imagery across the screen during moments of self-discovery and fragility, Heartstopper inherently turns what could have been an impactful moment in regard to LGBTQ+ relationships with mental health into a brief quip of unrest that is quickly panned away from. Such scenes diminish Charlie’s struggles to a mere side-effect of his artistic nature.
Another instance where Heartstopper romanticizes Charlie’s ED comes to play when we are introduced to the teen’s boyfriend, Nick Nelson. Throughout season 3, we see Nick grapple over how to be there for his boyfriend as they both discover what it means to live with an eating disorder. In doing so, the show begins to give the impression that we are watching Nick’s story, focusing heavily on his perspective and the challenges he faces as Charlie’s boyfriend. Heartstopper propels this narrative by having Charlie confide solely in Nick for a majority of the season, masking the reality of his situation behind a healthy, happy appearing relationship. When such scenes occur, the show demonstrates Phillips’ connection of illness to another form of “art” – that which blossoms from intimacy and sex.
Although Nick eventually convinces Charlie to seek medical care, the situation continues to revolve around their relationship rather than Charlie’s personal health. Throughout the season, Charlie emphasizes that one of his main qualms with his ED and body image is his lack of confidence when it comes to being vulnerable with Nick. The season culminates with Charlie wrapping up his journey with his ED by telling Nick that he is ready to have sex with him, in effect portraying Charlie’s mental health journey as a “boon[s]… one could even say power[s]” (Phillips, p. 193). By following Charlie’s battle with his ED through the lens of a relationship, Heartstopper romanticizes his illness, placing it on a pedestal in regard to intimacy and artistry.
Given the injurious circumstances described above, I am forced to say that Heartstopper – and future queer-centered media, for that matter – is in need of producorial harm reduction. Harm reduction, as referred to by Moya Bailey (2021) in Misogynoir Transformed, refers to “digital resistance, through the creation of new content and digital practices” which “disrupts the onslaught of the problematic images that society perpetuates” (p. 11). While Bailey initially crafted this definition in regard to the unique challenges black women face in the media, the notion of harm reduction is undoubtedly applicable to other subordinate groups, including the LGBTQ+ community.
When considering the ease of accessibility to queer-centered mainstream media today, it is imperative that we speak up and ensure that the images being portrayed to LGBTQ+ adolescents are not harmful ones. According to current metrics, approximately 87% of LGBTQ+ youths struggle with body image-related issues, and are at greater risk of eating disorders than their heterosexual counterparts (Schlapp-Gilgoff, M. 2023). These results display the disheartening truth surrounding the issue of EDs within the LGBTQ+ community, particularly teens/young adults. This severity has unfortunately become normalized, and is present in contemporary media beyond Heartstopper – from social media to Hollywood films. Given the power that we have to craft images which challenge modern regimes of representation, we must put forth the effort to create more positive, beneficial narratives.
As I mentioned at the beginning of this piece, I truly believe that the message behind Heartstopper is an invaluable one for LGBTQ+ individuals to encounter in their early years. However, such a message of love and acceptance must be handled with care, so as to not fall into the ever-present world of romanticization. It’s time for contemporary queer media to make a change – for the sake of kids like me.
References
Bailey, M. (2021). Misogynoir transformed. New York, NY: NYU Press. Pp 1-34.
Phillips, M. (2022). Nerd: Adventures in fandom. New York, NY: Atria. Excerpt: Ch. 6 - Espers and anxiety, mutants, magic and mind games.
Schlapp-Gilgoff, M. (2023). Eating disorders in LGBTQIA+ populations. National Eating Disorders Association. https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/eating-disorders-in-lgbtqia-populations/
I really appreciated everything you said about a topic that is crucial to not mishandle in the entertainment industry, and I think that one of the troubles with fanfiction is that heavy topics — like eating disorders and other sensitive subjects — can be romanticized to an extent that their impact on the characters and the audience is minimized. However, there are pros to the fandom tackling these issues as well: Jenkins discusses this in his piece on the fan experience, writing that "fandom is a vehicle for marginalized subcultural groups...to pry open space for their cultural concerns." Heartstopper is an example of a show that pries open this space: both in its portrayal of LGBTQ+ love stories and its portrayal of more sensitive topics like eating disorders, it allows audiences and the television industry as a whole to hold space for topics that should not be overlooked. The idea of textual poaching also comes into play here, as viewers taking the stories of shows like Heartstopper to make them their own allows them to further explore the world they come to see themselves in. As a whole, I believe that fanfiction with a show like Heartstopper can almost be a double-edged sword: although it abides by Jenkins's thoughts and makes space for these subcultural groups to portray their concerns and how they live to a wider audience, there is an inherent risk of causing harm to groups affected by the topics in the show. It is important to balance the entertainment factor with portraying sensitive issues cognizantly and carefully.
ReplyDeleteEmily Scolnick ^^
DeleteI’ve watched Heartstopper, and I really enjoyed how it shows young LGBTQ+ relationships in such a positive, heartwarming way - it’s one of those shows that feel important for queer representation. But I absolutely agree that how the show handles Charlie’s eating disorder (ED) might be romanticizing it instead of treating it as the serious issue that it is. I've noticed in past seasons how Heartstopper uses the cartoon visuals you mentioned to emphasize happy or meaningful moments but I thought it was interesting that in this season, they are utilized to show Charlie’s struggles. I agreed that this choice makes his ED seem more like part of his artistic or emotional journey than a real, difficult problem. It made me revisit Moya Bailey's point about the representation of the "tortured poet," where struggles like mental health issues are often linked to creativity or artistry in media. This connection, while sometimes meant to add depth to a character, can instead glamorize their pain, making it seem like suffering is a necessary part of being talented or special. Moya Bailey also talks about the idea of “harm reduction,” which means creating media that doesn’t repeat harmful stereotypes. With so many LGBTQ+ teens dealing with body image problems and eating disorders, I definitely agree that it’s so important for shows like Heartstopper to get it right, which made me think about how Heartstopper could balance its positive message with a more realistic take on mental health. The show has done so much for representation, but it also has a chance to go deeper and help young people feel truly seen and supported.
ReplyDelete- Miraya Gesheva