In November, the long-running TV show Supernatural came to an end. The finale left not only queer fans but also fans who are struggling with depression and trauma recovery feeling deeply hurt and unheard by one of their favorite shows. Although our focus here at YA Pride is not on TV, we are all too familiar with the pain of being let down by media. It hurts in a way that few other things do. While most fans have recuperated a bit from the ending of the show, some of the pain still remains. And although Supernatural is the most recent show to hurt fans in this way, it is not the first, and sadly, it will most likely not be the last. In that spirit, we wanted to round-up some wisdom from adult creators on how to deal with this kind of bitter disappointment. (This post is Part 2 of this mini series. Find Part 1 here.)
By Kosoko Jackson
Dear You,
A few days ago, someone posted on Twitter one of those interactive Quote-RT reply posts with the question, “what was the last movie that made you cry?” I feel for a lot of you, though Supernatural isn’t a movie, you’d answer “The last episode of Supernatural.”
And I get it. We’re all dealing with a lot right now. Especially with COVID-19, being stuck inside, and being forced to be alone. For a lot of you, home might not be a safe place or a place you can be yourself and Supernatural, your show, was your escape from that hell you’re living, and imagining a life where happiness should be possible. And you were let down. You were hurt. And in many ways, you were betrayed. I think I know what you’re feeling right now because I too experienced a gut punch in cinema when I was around your age.
The year was November 20, 2006 (oof, I sound old.) Almost 14 years to the date. The show was Heroes. The season? 1. The episode, 9. Not to spend forever talking about the greatest show of all time, but in the episode, one of the characters, Zach, is called a “Freak” for being gay, and his friend Claire stands up for him. This moment, for a young recently-turned-15-year-old gay Black kid, meant the world to me; because it showed me gay kids in small towns who feel alone, can have friends, have people in their corners and can be what I thought I wasn’t…loved.
And then, Fox nixed the character.
I’m not going to spend the second half of this essay telling you it’s going to get better. Because what you’re feeling has been the experience of so many queer artists for generations. But if you’re a fan of Supernatural, I’m willing to bet money you might also be a fan of other SFF tv shows, movies, books and comics.
Which means you know of something called The Origin Story.
I started writing books because of Zach in Heroes. Because I wanted to write his character and he gave me joy, but also because I wanted to create worlds where happiness existed and queers can be badass. I forced myself to believe ‘we deserve better & I’m going to create better.’
Let Supernatural’s follies be your Origin Story. Be it through a screenplay, a short story, a comic or any other artistic medium, I’m sure you have a story, fantastical or modern, that only you can tell. And I’m sure there is a queer kid, sitting on their bed, pushing the world into the background, who needs it as much as you needed Supernatural to be there for you.
Do not let them win. Don’t let them determine who deserves a happy ending. Because, spoiler alert, everyone does. Even you. Especially you. And you can write that ending better than anyone else. Each and everyone one of you.
It’s time we go hunting for that happy ever after, and we’re not coming home until we find it. I’ll bring the snacks and let’s remind every person who says we don’t deserve one, that we 100% do.
I’ll be in the car waiting.
Best,
Kosoko
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Kosoko Jackson is an author and MFA student who spends too much time online for his own good. His debut science fiction romance, YESTERDAY IS HISTORY, debuts February 2nd, 2021, and is being published by SourcebooksFire. Follow him on Twitter and/or Instragram @KosokoJackson.
by Anonymous
Maybe you’re alone right now, and perhaps it feels hopeless, but please don’t give up! I and many others care about you; if you don’t have anyone in your life who understands, please know that this won’t always be the case. People are more accepting each year, and new series and novels are being released with the representation you’ve always wanted to see. It won’t always be like this. No matter how hard a situation is, it is possible to carry on and get through it. I believe in you, you can do it! <3 And for any aspiring-LGBTQ+ writers, know that your voice is important, you have a unique view on the world, that is a wonderful gift—if you want to write a story, don’t hesitate, just go for it and add in the representation you want to see in your stories! Believe in yourself, you have the power to change the literary world!
Thank you for existing, you make the world a better place! <3
by Elayna Darcy
Content note: major spoilers for Supernatural series finale, major character death, depression, homophobia, bury your gays trope
Dear Queer Teens,
Let me begin by saying that I am sorry.
I am sorry that we have not come far enough. I am sorry that every day, you have to scroll through your social media feeds, go to school, and exist in a world that has so many people telling you that there is something wrong with you. That you are merely confused or that you do not deserve validation for who you are. Because none of those things are true. You are honestly a miracle.
When I was in high school, I had no one around to tell me this. I had a GSA (Gay Straight Alliance) that started at my school during my sophomore year, and had to watch as fellow students defaced our posters with slurs or just ripped them down altogether. I had to put up with family members who questioned why I bothered to be involved with “those people.” I did all of this, without coming out. I didn’t find the strength to do that until I was 22, a senior in college. But I always knew, deep in my bones, that there was something about me that was different, for reasons I could not explain then, and that difference drew me into solidarity with the LGBTQ+ community.
I saw in them a strength and resilience to love how they loved without giving a damn what the rest of the world had to say about it. There was power and fortitude in the friends I had who shirked gender norms. In those few queer people I knew, I saw something that resonated with me deeply. But the rare glimpses at queer stories I saw (films like MILK or RENT or THE MATTHEW SHEPARD STORY) all seemed to enforce that there was more trauma and pain to being queer than there was joy. And I am sorry that so much of that hasn’t changed.
Before watching the series finale of Supernatural, in the two weeks after one of the main characters confessed his love for the man he literally saved from hell, I was full of a queer euphoria that I haven’t known in quite some time. I was back on tumblr like I used to be in my early days after coming out, scrolling through night-blogged hope-posts about what it was going to be like to watch a 15 year old show end with some sort of confirmation of queerness from it’s main character, a character who I loved and identified with even before I came out, and whose journey helped me so much in figuring out my own identity.
You see, I always felt a lot like Dean. I did not believe I was worthy of much of anything. I did not love myself—in fact truth be told, most days I hated myself. I was full of a reckless self loathing that I was convinced for so, so many years, that I never thought I would be able to heal from it. And so here I was, watching in the penultimate episode as this character I’ve loved and grown with, punched God in the face and told him, “I am not the monster you think I am. I am in charge of my own destiny. I choose love instead.”
Dear reader, it was so powerful. For that glorious fortnight leading up to the finale, I was convinced this would be it. Vindication would come. The finale would somehow involve Dean charging with guns blazing into the superhell that stole the person he loved, and that he would save Cas right back, the way Cas once saved him so many years ago. As a writer myself, I knew there was a myriad of ways that the finale could have gone that would have caused a watershed moment in television, and showed a fandom that has devoted over a decade of their lives to this series, that our queerness was valid and deserved to be recognized on screen by the characters we loved and looked up to the most.
And then I had to watch as the showrunners decided to throw that 15 years of character development and fandom love right down the drain, as they impaled my beloved character on a spike. I had to watch him die frightened, reduced back to believing this—a tragic, painful death, unable to save or be with the ones he loved—was what he deserved. And for those of you who had to watch and experience that with me, I am so. so. sorry.
Hollywood and the publishing industry have too often shown us that they would sooner kill us to further someone else’s pain than let us get the happy endings given to our heterosexual conterparts. We are fridged, left to bleed out in bathtubs, snapped out of existence, taken to super-turbo-hell because we experienced happiness, and run through with rebar. But we do not deserve this. We deserve so much better. You deserve so much better.
Because the truth is that you are, as I said, a miracle. Every single one of your worst days, you still survived. All those moments where your mental health or your very life were at risk, you overcame them. You have fought so hard to be here, and by existing in your truth, even if you can’t safely say it out loud yet, you are a warrior. Many of you love and embrace your identity more freely than the generations before you were ever able to at your age, and that is powerful. You fight injustices with your every breath, simply by showing up and saying, I am here. I am queer. I deserve joy. You inspire us elder queers every day with your strength and hope, and I am so sorry for every time that these cisheteronormative systems have failed you or made you feel like you were anything less than the pure magic that you are.
I want you to know we are fighting for you. That there are people, right now as you read this, writing books and making television and directing films that show our lived experiences in all the glorious light they deserve to be bathed in. That trans authors are hitting the NYT Bestseller list. That franchises as big as Star Trek are including relationships between non-binary teens. That folks like those who run the amazingness of YA Pride and We Need Diverse Books are advocating for you at every step of the way, and doing everything in our power to burn down oppressive systems so you don’t have to go through things like what that Supernatural finale put us all through. We love you, and we will never give up on you.
And most importantly, I urge you to remember, that your voice matters too. Don’t let anyone tell you that because you are young, that you can’t write yourself into the narrative. If there is a story you want to see, write it, and know that you don’t have to limit yourself. Write that sapphic high fantasy novel. Make a trans boy the plucky hero of a space opera. Tell the tale of a non-binary kid who loves going to fan conventions with their friends and falls in love with a cute cosplayer. Know that we are rooting for you every step of the way, and that we’re waiting eagerly for your stories. Know that you, and your words, matter more than anything in the universe.
With Love,
Elayna
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Elayna Mae Darcy (she/they) is a queer poet, YA author, and filmmaker. They actively serve as a Municipal Liaison for NaNoWriMo and have been a participant in the annual event for the last sixteen years. A former podcast producer and social media specialist at MuggleNet.com, one of Elayna’s favorite things in life is engaging with fandom communities and speaking on panels at conventions across the country. They are the author of the sci-fi short story CONTINUUM (2017), and the poetry collections UNRAVELING LIGHT (2018) and DARKNESS UNDONE (2020).
