“In a hundred years of movies, homosexuality has only rarely been depicted on the screen. When it did appear, it was there as something to laugh at, or something to pity, or even something to fear. Hollywood, that great maker of myths, taught straight people what to think about gay people and gay people what to think about themselves.” – author Vito Russo
Adolescence is hard. It is an essential part of human development that comes with a unique set of triumphant (and traumatic) experiences that shape us into the individuals that we are destined to be, for better or for worse. It is imperative during these formative and impressionable years to seek out healthy, emotional outlets to constructively cope with the nuances of this inevitable life process.
My name is Laron Chapman and having grown up in the 90s as an awkward, closeted gay, African-American youth in Bible belt Oklahoma, I owe a great deal of gratitude for my survival, sanity, and passion for the arts to the powerful medium of “the cinema.” To continue our theme of Film Experiences We’re Thankful For, I’ll be talking about an underexposed movie that was deeply impactful during my youth.
For many, the cinema provides a creative release and escape from the daily woes of life. It allows audiences to project their inner thoughts, anxieties, and desires on to the screen and live vicariously through the characters and narratives portrayed. This cathartic mechanism came a lot easier for my heterosexual peers, provided there was a litany of films they could relate to (e.g. The Sandlot (1993), Clueless (1995), My Girl (1991), American Pie (1999) – to name a few). Be it building adolescent camaraderie, asking a school crush on a date, losing a best friend to tragedy, or the loss of virginity, there was always a film of the “John Hughes” variety to teach a valuable lesson.
While I, admittedly, related to many of these on some level, they lacked something vital to tap into my own unique life experience: LGBT representation. In fact, when reviewing these films it would appear that LGBT characters were virtually non-existent in mainstream cinema. This may seem like a futile critique for some, but when you are starved to see a film that reflects your own life (or even a fraction of it), you feel ostracized and inadequate with no frame of reference to the community you subscribe to. It is for all of these reasons that the provocative, 1999 cult classic But I’m a Cheerleader resonated with me on a near-spiritual level.
I was ten or eleven years old when this film made its way to the “special interest” aisle of my local Blockbuster Video store. For those unfamiliar with this little gem, But I’m a Cheerleader is a brilliant, candy-coated social satire about homophobia, LGBT identity, gender stereotypes, and the ethics of gay conversion therapy. The lead character Megan (the criminally underrated Natasha Lyonne) is a happy-go-lucky high school cheerleader with a seemingly utopian existence (e.g. hot boyfriend, amazing friends, supportive parents, etc.) That is until she unwittingly walks into an “intervention” by her overtly-religious family and peers who are convinced she is a closeted lesbian. Megan, who has an obsession with Melissa Etheridge and a general attraction for her fellow cheer mates, has never identified as “queer.” In fact, she has always believed those feelings were natural and universal.
In an effort to “Un-Gay” herself, Megan is shipped to a remote 5-Step gay conversion camp titled True Directions run by the stern matriarch Mary Brown (the incomparable Cathy Moriarty). While there, she meets love interest Graham (Clea DuVall), ex-gay administrator Mike (the fabulous RuPaul Charles), and a colorful group of troubled youths who are subjected to a series of unorthodox, gendered exercises (e.g. Men play sports, women cook and clean, simulated heterosexual intercourse, anti-gay protests, etc.) to reinstate the masculine and feminine demeanors associated with their sex. After strident attempts to comply to these ineffective group challenges, it becomes apparent that the only people in need of reparative therapy are the ones who have subjected their loved ones to such cruel and usual practices in the first place.
The character Megan possesses a quiet strength and sunny disposition, that puts a veil over her vulnerability. I remember identifying with her inability to articulate how she was feeling inside and her anxiety about coming out and the personal sacrifice it requires. When she was finally able to live in her truth and proclaim the words “I’m gay” out loud, there was a huge emotional weight lifted off her shoulders. For 85 mins, I was encouraged to follow in her bedazzled, hot pink footsteps. For every Jim (American Pie), Cher (Clueless), or Vada (My Girl), there is a Megan longing to be discovered.
For the first time in my short-lived life, I felt validated, acknowledged, and comfortable in my own skin. I was introduced to an eclectic variety of flawed, human characters who made the same subtle observations about sexuality and had a penchant for finding humor in the darkest of places. The film allowed me to reconcile my fears of rejection and alleviate the pressure I had to conform to the rigid standards of society. By presenting gay and gender stereotypes as absurd and over-the-top, audiences were forced to reevaluate their perception of their own heteronormativity and the LGBT community at large.
This is the directorial debut of Jamie Babbit, an openly gay female independent filmmaker. She said that she was drawn to this story because it challenged traditional notions of sexuality while simultaneously exploring its complexity. It took immense courage to tackle subject matter this inflammatory with unwavering frankness, unapologetic wit, and brutal honesty. With biting humor she gave voice and presence to a marginalized community.
The film was predictably divisive among critics. Many compared it to the provocatively grotesque work of John Waters. However, it earned cult classic status in subsequent years and has since been hailed as far ahead of its time. LGBT representation has undergone quite an evolution since the film’s release 18 years ago (e.g. Moonlight (2016), Brokeback Mountain (2005), RuPaul’s Drag Race (2009 – present), etc.). I am forever thankful for the gift of cinema and its uncanny ability to elicit empathy and exposure for the people and cultures around us. In many ways, it has inspired my own career path as an independent filmmaker with an interest in social justice. I am especially grateful for films such as But I’m a Cheerleader for blazing a cinematic trail before it was popular to do so.
