The media has been pretty trash about documenting queer stories with disabled people in them. In fact, the 2021 GLAAD Studio Responsibility Index reported zero disabled LGBTQ+ characters across all major film releases for the entire year. That’s… not great. Yet while disabled queer folks don’t pop up all that often on our screens, we certainly exist. According to the Movement Advancement Project, there are an estimated three to five million LGBTQ+ adults with disabilities in the United States alone. But the queer community often forgets that we are a large part of the crew, ignorant to the fact that we all end up joining it if we’re lucky enough to grow old.
Being disabled isn’t the end of being an amazing person, and most of the time, it has little to do with people’s regular lives. We’re not tragic or inspiring; we hook up, get married, and break hearts just like everyone else. The problem is, under traditional storytelling tropes, any time you see a queer person who happens to be disabled, nine times outta 10, their life absolutely sucks. I’m not about that. So I’ve assembled a list of films and TV shows that give queer disabled people the spotlight to live their lives as the messy, amazing, sexy, ridiculous people we are.
Looking at the definition of disability across the board (where we’re giving 10’s) we’re talking wheelchairs, autism, auto-immune, Deafness, and more. Whether honoring the fierce fiery death drops of HIV-positive Black queens on FX’s Pose, the unfiltered audacity of Zendaya’s powerhouse performance of OCD and anxiety on Euphoria, or the queer mad love of a supervillain bestie-turned-lover on Harley Quinn, here are 7 queer disabled films and TV shows to celebrate Disability Pride Month any time you want.
A critical hit on the 2014 film festival circuit, Margarita With a Straw is the amazing coming-of-age story of Laila Kapoor, a disabled songwriter with cerebral palsy who discovers, after a series of heartbreaks, that she needs more out of life. Tired of being seen as lesser and unlovable, she relocates to America and starts a complicated romantic entanglement with both a cute blonde caretaker and a blind young woman, trying to figure out where they fit into her life, if at all. I had the honor of watching this film debut in the States at the New York Indian Film Festival and was moved beyond words when director Shonali Bose shared that it is based off of the life her cousin, who had simply wanted to have sex for her 40th birthday and was shamed into silence by her traditionally repressive Indian family. Margarita with a Straw reigns supreme as the best film about disability that I’ve ever seen to date, not just because it boldly gives space to lives rarely seen on camera, but also because of the authenticity that it portrays. This is a film committed to showing the difficulties and triumphs of what it is to be both queer and disabled in a culture that seems to erase both facets of identity.
Ryan Murphy and Steven Canals’ trailblazing series about the Black queer ballroom scene had everyone voguing and the tissue boxes on deck. Transitioning from an underdog tale about a young queer up-and-coming dancer, the series found its true footing when it centered on Michaela Jaé Rodriguez’s Blanca, who formed her own family after being disowned by her house mother. The series was revolutionary in its unflinching depiction of violence, and the trauma of Black queer trans women, but Billy Porter’s role as the fast-talking gives-no-fucks emcee Prey Tell also drew plenty of attention. Porter became the first gay Black man in history to win a Best Actor Emmy, and he did it by portraying someone living with HIV. The love story his character has with the much younger Ricky (Dyllon Burnside), who also has HIV, is a unique new horizon for disabled Black storytelling. Pose shows the couple fighting and coming together again, showcasing the true power of love, strength, and tragedy in the face of a devastating disability crisis in 1980s and 90s New York City.
This is not your grandmother’s Queer as Folk. Peacock’s turn at the helm for the third adaptation of this series proves that you can in fact, teach an old dog new tricks. The traditional story of Brian, Mikey, and the gays is here replaced with Brodie, Daddius, and queer disabled heartthrob, Marvin, played by Locke and Key’s Eric Graise. For a show that was originally lambasted for being entirely too white, too pretty, too sterile, too [insert about 16 other adjectives here], this iteration of Queer as Folk goes entirely in the other direction, showcasing a diverse and vibrant queer community. Based in New Orleans after a shooting at the Babylon nightclub, the show delivers all types of sexy shenanigans featuring Marvin, his rentboy-turned-lover, and the rest of the crew. What this reboot lacks in polish, it makes up for with sheer tenacity. Plus, it has what I can honestly say is the first ever real disabled sex scene with actual disabled people that I’ve ever seen — and it was hot AF. That alone is worth the price of admission, but with Marvin giving you True Blood LaFayette (R.I.P. Nelsan Ellis) realness from his wheelchair, the result is everything, and it is glorious.
The quiet genius of Netflix’s animated fantasy horror comedy Dead End: Paranormal Park (based off the graphic novels DeadEndia by series creator Hamish Steele and on Cartoon Hangover’s Too Cool! Cartoons) might catch you off guard if you’re not paying attention. Created by, starring, and chock full of queer characters, the show centers on 17-year-old Barney Guttman, a gay teenage trans boy who works as a security guard in a haunted amusement park. Barney has to deal with demons, monsters, and his drag queen boss. With a cast including Alan Cumming, Angelica Ross, Michaela Jaé Rodriguez, Patrick Stump, Sam Jay, and more, the show has more than enough heavy hitters to make it worth an enjoyable afternoon binge. But it is the show’s not-so subtle recognition of Norma, Barney’s autistic know-it-all friend and partner in crime, that makes it even better. Dealing with themes of fear and crippling anxiety, the show tackles its sometimes weighty subject matter with bright colors and plenty of hilarious tomfoolery. There’s even a talking dog who is possessed with the Lord of Hell (my favorite character), so I can guarantee you’ll crack up while maybe even shedding a tear or two.
Added to the list mostly because I love their relationship, Kaley Cuoco’s Harley Quinn and Lake Bell’s Poison Ivy are true couple goals. Sure, they burn down buildings and kill a lot of people, but queer romance is all about the abnormality, right? In this hilariously filthy adaptation of Batman’s iconic rogues gallery, the clown queen of crime takes the front seat after the Joker has dumped her one too many times. As Harley looks to make her own way without anyone to tell her what to do, the series focuses on her self-actualization. As she learns more about who she wants to be, she also deepens her relationship with girlfriend/roommate/murderer Poison Ivy. Serving as a bisexual icon and providing some much-needed representation for different kinds of mental health issues, Ivy supports Harley, encouraging her to be different and unique, which is a drum the disability studies world has been beating for a long time. Their relationship is one of mutual respect and dysfunction, showcasing both the highs and lows of becoming involved with someone who has mental health challenges. I, for one, find the representation refreshing in its divergence from endlessly stifling tropes of hardship and pain. True, the show goes wildly off the rails in its manifestation of what love and friendship can look like, but animation allows us to dream beyond reality, and the results are still the same: a touching story of true love.
All hail the queen, and I don’t mean Beyoncé. As the youngest Best Actress Emmy winner in history, Zendaya sets the screen on fire and burns it down as the titular character in HBO’s Euphoria, which was adapted from an Israeli show of the same name. The singular word for this show is messy. As a young Black woman named Rue with multiple disabilities who finds no other way to deal with her illnesses than through the combination of various drugs, Euphoria is part spectacle, and part anti-drug (or is it pro-drug?) queer anthem. The show follows Rue and her girlfriend Jules (played by the amazing trans actress Hunter Schaefer) through the darkest parts of their lives, hurtling headlong down the rollercoaster of drug addiction. Addressing themes of sexual abuse, bullying, and a whole theme park’s worth of teen drama – not to mention the best high school play this side of an ’80’s rom-com – Euphoria combines the darkness of disability despair with the highs of chosen family.
Coming off of the hugely successful Avatar: The Last Airbender, co-executive producers Aaron Ehasz and Justin Richmond decided to create a show with actual queer people (no shade/all the shade, Korra), one-upping their own game with Netflix’s The Dragon Prince. The fantasy series is set after the splitting of a continent, divided as punishment for human’s use of dark magic. The story follows Ezran, his half brother Callum, and an elven assassin named Rayla as they attempt to end the war between the dragons and the humans by recovering a dragon egg that was believed to be destroyed. Through gorgeous animation and seriously impressive character design, the show earns a spot on this list because of the adventurers’ aunt, Amaya, who is Deaf, badass, and leads a human outpost. As she serves the king and tries to protect her nephews, Amaya’s story becomes something entirely different when she inadvertently falls for a Sunfire elf warrior named Janai who captures her in combat. Through mutual warrior respect, Janai comes to love Amaya. Together, their story is the queer romance we never got but deserved in Avatar, made even better through an breathtaking technical display of hand-drawn ASL and amazing fight sequences.
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