Blue is the Warmest Commodity
-Aoife Gately
The 2000s. How sublime to live in an age where media reflects the wonderful subversiveness and nuances of queer culture. Girls kissing on TV? How modern! How radical! How punk! Okay, so they’re mostly young, white, skinny, cis, hyper-sexualised, feminine presenting, heterosexual women whose boyfriends linger just off screen…
But have you SEEN their t*ts?
It's no secret that mainstream media shrinks the subversive to make a more ‘palatable’ scene. And while representation is comforting, I worry that the bland reimagining of a technicolour world has created a facade of progress. From the early 2000s phenomenon of the Russian pop duo t.A.T.u to Katy Perry’s chart-topping “I Kissed a Girl” and the acclaimed yet controversial film Blue Is the Warmest Colour, media depictions of lesbianism prioritise sex over substance, determined to remain relevant to a heterosexual and patriarchal audience. Growing up, I saw these pieces of media as the new frontier. Looking back, I seem to have confused gyrating girls with gay liberation.
When Katy Perry released I Kissed a Girl in 2008, it was marketed as playful, rebellious, and edgy—yet it conformed entirely to a heterosexual framework. Lines like “Just wanna try you on” and “You’re my experimental game” frame same-sex attraction as a fleeting novelty, reinforcing the idea that lesbianism is a phase rather than a legitimate identity. While it could have been used to explore bisexuality or fluidity, the insistence on the lack of depth within the experience– “don’t mean I’m in love tonight”, and reaffirmation of the narrator's relation to a man– “hope my boyfriend don’t mind it”, reinforce patriarchal dominance.
Sue Jackson, analysing similar portrayals in Sex and the City, describes this phenomenon as “fashionable, chic lesbianism,” a performance that allows female characters (or, in this case, pop stars) to engage in same-sex attraction without ever threatening their “real” heterosexual identity.
(Look, I still love the song. But it's something to think about.)
And now for t.A.T.u. Best known for their 2002 hit All the Things She Said, the group was marketed as a rebellious lesbian love story. Yet this illusion was carefully manufactured by their producer, Ivan Shapovalov, who later admitted to designing the duo as an “underage sex project” aimed at exploiting demand for hypersexualised “schoolgirl” fantasies. Yuck.
To maintain their marketability, the singers themselves repeatedly denied any connection to queer identity. In interviews, they dismissed their onstage relationship as a publicity stunt, with one member proclaiming, “It’s a trick, we have boyfriends, we’re normal girls.” Their portrayal exemplifies a recurring media trope: the “heterosexual lesbian”—a woman who performs queerness for spectacle but remains available to men. This version of lesbianism is appealing to mainstream audiences precisely because it offers the illusion of queerness without challenging heterosexual norms.
(Again, I still love the song. Again, think about it.)
While Blue Is the Warmest Colour (2013) attempted a more serious portrayal of lesbian love, it was not without fault. Adapted from a graphic novel by a queer author, the film faced backlash for its explicit, extended sex scenes, which many critics deemed a voyeuristic male fantasy rather than an authentic depiction of lesbian intimacy. The novel’s author, Jul March, claims the scenes were a “brutal and surgical display ”, functioning as an emotionless male interpretation of the ‘idea’ of lesbian sex.
Director Abdellatif Kechiche defended the film’s seven-minute sex scene, insisting that it was necessary for portraying the “reality” of a lesbian relationship. Yet the scene’s cold, clinical approach reduces the protagonists’ identities to their sexual encounters. This framing prioritises external observation over internal emotional depth. If the ‘reality’ of ‘lesbianism’ must be portrayed through sterile, anatomy-driven depictions, it loses its radical potential, instead defining lesbians through their physical sexual interactions.
For some readers, the temptation to roll your eyes may be irresistible. Exploring the patriarchal features of a Katy Perry song may seem ridiculous, and I understand the inclination to sneer. Technically, none of what I have explored is “that deep”, but I aim to show that “inclusive” portrayals can serve as a smokescreen, repackaging norms and using their facade of queerness as a marketing strategy.
The mainstream continues to sideline the rich, radical stories existing beyond its narrow lens. But those stories are out there. Films like The Watermelon Woman and Paris is Burning (not strictly about lesbians, but too brilliant to ignore) offer bold, nuanced, and deeply necessary portrayals of queer identity. The problem isn’t that these films don’t exist—it’s that they are too often overlooked in favor of more sanitised narratives. So, if nothing else, consider this a plea: seek them out, celebrate them, and give them the attention they deserve. While I’ll still sing along to the anthems of my youth and rewatch the films that shaped me, I do so with a critical eye– and a deep desire for media that dares to differ.
**If you’re looking for something more recent, A League of Their Own (2022) includes some butch and masc rep, as does Feel Good (2020). They're less subversive or exploratory, but still worth watching.