8 Films and TV Shows That Capture Queer Latinx Experiences

From One Day at a Time to Vida, make time for these must-sees.
Two people laying on the grass pointing and looking up at the stars.
Pragda

These days, stores are stocking Takis to be one with la cultura. But there’s more to solidarity than listening to Bad Bunny and eating deliciously fiery snacks. We want to see real action when it comes to Latinx representation, particularly queer Latinx representation. There are 2.3 million LGBTQ+ Latinx adults living in the U.S., and yet we’re still often pushed to the sidelines of art, entertainment, and culture.

Films and TV shows have long embraced damaging stereotypes about Latinx people. White creators have often solely focused on queer Latinx trauma, too afraid to explore life in all its facets. And while genuine queer Latinx representation is on the rise, there is so much work left to be done: Black and Brown love still isn’t shown with the same care as white love. The hardships that accompany being Black and Brown and queer receive an inordinate amount of attention; there’s rarely any room for joy. Hollywood also tends to have a narrow view of Latinx love, preferring to show white Latines, refusing to break the mold and truly embrace diversity.

This is why I put together this list of seven films and TV series surrounding queer Latinx love made by Latines, featuring Latines, and celebrating Latines in all the ways that make them remarkable. As we push for more — and more meaningful — representation, these movies and shows can serve as models for creators looking to do justice to our vast and varied community.

Love, Victor (2020-22) — Disney+, Hulu

This original Hulu series follows Victor (Michael Cimino), a Puerto Rican and Colombian American teenager, and his family. It’s a spin-off of the feature-length film Love, Simon which was in turn an adaptation of Becky Albertalli’s best-selling young adult novel Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda. Love, Simon was well-received for its uplifting tone, showing a teenage boy who came out and was immediately embraced by his loved ones. Love, Victor takes a different approach. Its protagonist doesn’t move through a white space. Instead, Victor is new to the town and the school, having to navigate the trials of being a teenager in a new environment while also coming to terms with who he is and who he wants to love. The show deals with sexuality in the face of not only machismo but religion as well. Love, Victor is able to handle these topics with care, never outright looking for an opportunity to traumatize the viewer. Instead, it shows a parent slowly coming to terms with having a gay son, gradually moving toward acceptance.

One Day at a Time (2017-20) — Netflix

One Day at a Time is one of the first positive depictions of queerness representation within the context of Latinidad that I ever saw. This Netflix reboot of the classic family sitcom meant a lot to the Latinx community, and the outcry to have it saved after its cancellation was proof. Executive producer Gloria Calderón Kellet, along with the entire cast and crew, created something truly special: it was honest, sweet, and funny — the perfect balm for a difficult time.

Elena’s (Isabella Gómez) journey toward the realization that she is a lesbian had a delightful buildup. In typical sitcom fashion, the show has its lighter moments, but it isn’t afraid to be serious, nor to deliver delightfully intimate encounters between Elena and Penelope (Justina Machado). Religion is very present in this show as well, given abuela Lydia’s (Rita Moreno) undying devotion to God, but the cleverness of the writing cuts through that tension.

One of the most iconic moments in the show comes when Lydia is able to accept Elena being a lesbian before Elena’s mother, Penelope (Justina Machado), citing the Pope’s softening stance on gay Catholics. Lydia’s onto something, and people should take note! Also, let’s not forget Elena’s relationship with Syd! The nonbinary heart for Valentine’s Day? This is the ship I will go down for.

Mucho Mucho Amor: The Legend of Walter Mercado (2020) — Netflix

Ahead of his time, the late Puerto Rican astrologer Walter Mercado filled many of our living rooms with a message of hope and love. Directed by Kareem Tabsch and Cristina Costantini, this documentary premiered at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival and was released on Netflix later the same year, but I’m still disappointed it wasn’t appreciated enough to make it to the Oscars.

Not only did Mucho Mucho Amor celebrate Walter Mercado’s mythical place in Latinx culture, with all of his incomparable flamboyance and flair, it also humanized him. The film celebrated his Puerto Rican upbringing, showing how his culture was synonymous with who he was as a person. No matter how many people turned their backs on him as he went through his television career, allegedly due to the negative influence of his manager, Mercado never stopped spreading kindness to the community. His comments about sexuality, specifically about how he embraced sex in a less physical sense also spoke to me because we so rarely see open asexual representation in media, especially concerning Latines.

Vida (2018-20) — Starz

Vida broke me in the best way. Creator Tanya Saracho understands people at their core, allowing her to create characters who encompass everything we’re looking for in others and everything we want to learn to love about ourselves. This Starz series, inspired by the short story “Pour Vida” by Richard Villegas Jr., is unapologetically queer, presenting an almost mythically self-contained world despite taking place in real-life Boyle Heights, Los Angeles. It primarily follows Emma (Mishel Prada) and Lyn (Melissa Barrera) as they return home after their mother passes away, forcing them to confront who they have become since leaving Boyle Heights. As that journey unfolds, Saracho embraces magical realism to truly otherwordly effect. Although it only ran for two seasons, the talented queer cast has gone on to speak wonders about their experience filming the show, saying that Saracho ensured everyone felt comfortable, even while filming hard-to-swallow moments. Ultimately, Vida is a show about shedding layers and finding out who we truly are, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Gentefied (2020-21) — Netflix

The Netflix original series Gentefied was a single-cam dramedy created by Marvin Lemus and Linda Yvette Chávez, about three Mexican-American cousins trying to save Abuelo's taco shop. The series tackles gentrification from a refreshing angle, not as another story delving into the trauma of displacement, but rather by adopting the perspective of those affected. There is no white savior in the show; instead, it dives into the internal conflict of trying to stand up for your home while also not wanting to lose everything you’re fighting for in the first place.

Is it possible to play the gentrifier’s game while also trying to fight it? That question constitutes the main conflict between Ana Morales (​​Karrie Martin Lachney) and her girlfriend Yessika Castillo (Julissa Calderón). Ana is an artist trying to help Abuelo’s taco shop stay afloat while Yessika is a local activist trying to stand up for the community. The captivating tension between the characters only adds to the delight of seeing two Latina women, one Afro-Latina, being together romantically, especially given how often Latinx characters are usually paired with white love interests.

Extra Terrestres (2016) — Tubi

Extra Terrestres, a sci-fi dramedy by Puerto Rican director and screenwriter Carla Cavina, took years to get made but eventually became one of the first theatrical releases in Puerto Rico to feature a same-sex couple. Protagonist Teresa (Marisé Álvarez) is visiting her family in Puerto Rico for the first time in years after having left the island. The reason? She is getting married to her partner Daniela (Prakriti Maduro), who wants Teresa’s family to come to the wedding. The only problem is Teresa’s family doesn’t know she’s a lesbian. The film skillfully navigates the discomfort of a family in which keeping secrets is second nature. Everyone in Teresa’s family has something to hide and soon enough, it all comes to light, showing that sometimes the real extraterrestrials aren’t out there in the universe, but rather us as humans, trying to connect with each other across difference.

What We Do in the Shadows (2019-) — Hulu

Back in August, this FX television comedy series about a vampire enclave on Staten Island won Best Cable Comedy Series at the 2nd annual Hollywood Critics Association TV awards. Harvey Guillén, who plays Guillermo de la Cruz on the show, was able to accept the award alongside the cast and crew – while looking utterly fabulous, might I add. Guillermo, a familiar for the vampire Nandor (Kayvan Novak), has an emotional arc on the show’s fourth season pertaining to his Latinx identity as well as his sexual orientation.

Guillén’s speech about growing up poor and dreaming of being an actor left me emotional, especially because he dedicated the award to every kid who has wanted to be on television no matter their skin color, sexuality, or body size. As many viewers might not realize, Guillén has had a huge impact on the shape of Guillermo’s character, constantly fighting for proper queer Latinx representation in the series. The result is one of the most satisfying visualizations of a Latinx character in the history of the medium. Harvey Guillén as Guillermo de la Cruz proves that Latines have a space wherever they dream of belonging, and they have every right to take up that space.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (2023)

Aristotle and Dante tells the story of two Latino boys falling in love in 1987 El Paso, Texas. It’s a beautiful coming-of-age tale that explores masculinity and sexuality within Latinidad. The camera mostly allows us to float alongside Aristotle (Max Pelayo) and Dante (Reese Gonzales) as they discover the vast universe that looms between them and the secrets it contains. In director Aitch Alberto’s hands, the film is tender, sweet, and profound, diving into a wide array of emotions that accompany self-discovery while also, when necessary, acknowledging the ingrained, internalized homophobia to which many Latine communities succumb. That bigotry isn’t included shock the viewer but rather to help show what it was like to be Latinx and queer in 1980s Texas.

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