By: Cameron Palmer, SFU Student
Content warning: conversion therapy and queerphobia.
The first time I watched But I’m a Cheerleader (BIAC), I was a passionate “ally” of my high school gay-straight alliance club. Celebrating queer identities and making straight people the butt of the joke was controversial in the ‘90s, but even in 2014, watching it for our club’s first movie screening was the first time I saw a romcom that centered queer experiences. While Mean Girls and Clueless went down as household names, BIAC is a hidden gem in mainstream culture. As a hilarious, self-aware satire that tackles growing up queer in homophobic environments, it’s a comforting classic in queer communities.
The film follows Megan (Natasha Lyonne), a cheerleader and goody two-shoes straight-A student whose family, friend, and even boyfriend, suspect she’s a lesbian before she discovers it herself. After an intervention, they send her to True Directions, a gay conversion camp where boys and girls are separated, follow a five-step program, and are trained to perform normative gender roles to “fix” their sexuality; things like cooking and cleaning, for the girls, and fixing cars for the boys. It’s there where Megan meets Graham (Clea DuVall), who’s unapologetically lesbian, and confusingly endearing. Her defiance clashes with Megan’s naïvety and obedience.
With campy costumes that feel like a Dr. Seuss pastiche, a Barbie house style set, and hot pinks and baby blue contrasts which comically depict the rigidity of gender norms, the film’s over-the-top-ness accurately reflects the absurdity of conversion therapy and gender norms. The deadpan delivery of the campers professing their sexuality’s roots in group therapy, like being born in France and being vegetarian, is extra hilarious because it highlights how irrational these stereotypes are when they’re being regurgitated by teens.
The film touches on taboo topics like masturbation, and I’ll admit, a few jokes went over my head when I watched it as a teen, as I was very sheltered growing up. For instance, Megan learns she can shock herself with a small taser everytime she thinks about girls, and discovers why fellow camper, Sinead, says she likes pain and shocks herself under the covers throughout the night.
Megan’s character is cartoonish (when she realizes she’s lesbian, her jaw drops for so long, she drools), but you root for her because she’s simply gullible, and a product of a harmful environment. This is something I can relate to when I think of my younger self.
Watching this as an adult for the first time since high school, I could understand some of the themes better. Compulsive heterosexuality (comphet), coined by Adrienne Rich, means we often don’t have the same opportunities or motivations to explore non-heterosexual attraction, and therefore don’t question our sexuality until later in life. I considered myself an “ally,” and didn’t grasp I was bisexual until adulthood, because the possibility hadn’t even crossed my mind. Or, maybe it had, but I pushed those thoughts away due to the shame surrounding queerness that was conditioned by my religious upbringing.
Megan’s response to the accusations of her lesbianism, “But, I’m a cheerleader!” exemplifies how gender stereotypes reinforce comphet — she assumed that being feminine and popular made her straight. On the flip side, Jan is a masc-presenting character who “likes balls,” and is sent to True Directions even though she insists she’s attracted to men. However, no one believes her because she looks stereotypically lesbian.
While the characters are one-dimensional and the plot follows typical formulas in the genre, like enemies-to-lovers, it’s self aware, playing into these expectations to subvert them. Plus, sometimes you just want to watch something familiar and easy, especially for processing difficult or traumatic experiences.
