Why Are Cartoons So Queer?
She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
From Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune riding off into the sunset in 1994, to Korra and Asami holding hands in the spirit world in 2014, to Luz and Amity sharing a kiss before fighting the big bad in 2022, it’s safe to say that a lot of popular cartoons are queer.
Western cartoons and anime alike have never been strangers to queerness. The anime and manga genres of “Boys Love” and “Girls Love” (though sometimes controversial and stigmatized) have existed for decades, and shows like Looney Tunes have portrayed classic characters like Bugs Bunny in drag since the 1940s. But what exactly is it about these comedic, romanticized fantasy worlds that invites queer characters to thrive? The answer is clear: the very medium of animation itself.
In a world where characters with magical abilities band together to take down an oppressive regime run by an intergalactic alien, it doesn’t seem so shockingly out of the question to have two women — Catra and Adora from She-ra and the Princesses of Power, namely — share a kiss at the end of their journey. Where live-action filmmaking has limits in creating a world of heightened reality or absurdity, animation requires suspension of disbelief from the get-go. They make and break their own rules of logic, often subverting those of our reality. By watching magical battles, talking animals, and split seconds of differing art styles for dramatization — cartoon audiences are always prepared to accept the suspension of rules and norms, and not question them.
The flexible nature of animation gives stories the added potential to introduce fluid concepts of gender and sexuality with ease. Because illustrations will never perfectly emulate our real world, there is an opportunity for animators to create worlds where the concept of homophobia simply does not exist. Call it utopic or unrealistic, but being able to enjoy those concepts is the point of animation — an enjoyment of the rare, of the one-day possible utopia, is also a key objective of queer theory.
Avatar: The Last Airbender
Even if you were to disregard the actual gay and lesbian pairings in animated shows, cartoons are still queer by nature. Using the word “queer” as any behavior that resists normative patterns, animated worlds become the perfect foreground to explore stories of transformation and acceptance. Emotional transformations are often illustrated in grandeur sequences where characters spin in the air and land back down stronger, truer to themselves. The emphasis on these scenes are elaborate, celebrating queerness through the suspension of the norm. In the case of most characters with unique abilities, “magic” is often something they don’t want when they discover they possess it. In some cases, they even call it a “curse.” But in each resolution, protagonists find that they have grown into their magical ability — their queerness — and not out of it, ultimately for the better.
The acceptance of any kind of queerness is what drives the best stories forward in cartoons. Being made with mostly younger audiences in mind, the “power of friendship,” or love is often what saves the day. Though simple and sometimes cheesy, this trope also has queerness at its heart. An animated project all in the same art style requires distinct, elaborate designs for each character to distinguish them from one another. This often gives way to the signature “unlikely group of friends'' from differing backgrounds that all bring different elements to the table. For this to happen, there is also usually a reason for them being separated from their biological families. Be it Zuko’s heartbreaking exile from a monarchy, or Amity Blight’s rebellion against her controlling mother, intergenerational conflict is also a prevalent theme that appears in animation, but never without purpose. There’s “The Gaang” in Avatar the Last Airbender, “The Best Friend’s Squad” in She-ra, and “The CATS” in The Owl House — all groups composed of characters who are not biologically related, but found each other under extenuating circumstances and became family. Strong queer communities are nothing if not found families bound together by survivance, and there is no shortage of those exact stories in the world of animation.
So, what exactly makes cartoons so queer? It’s the dedication to upholding a medium of art that invites flexibility, absurdism and suspension of the norm. Cartoons are enjoyable escapism, they are formative in children’s development, and when watched through the right lens, they can be vital in inner child healing. Many animated projects seem to pose the question: With limitless creative freedom in world-building, why not build a queer one? When this concept is sufficiently explored, a new reality is created, and holds utopic aspects that queer audiences are constantly reaching for. ♦