The Consequences of Queerbaiting
At 2015 Sherlock Holmes convention 221B Con, a group of BBC Sherlock fans publicly outed the sexual history of convention panelist and Tumblr user “Irene the Cosplayer” in front of dozens of people, illegally recording and later posting her reaction online.
The motivation behind these fans’ heinous act? They disagreed with Irene’s opinions on whether Sherlock was gay.
To un-Tumblrfied eyes, such behavior may seem outrageous, even inexplicable. Real-life bullying, threats, and harassment over … fictional romantic pairings in a TV drama? Surely, it can’t be that serious. However, to those of us who fought in the trenches of 2010s Tumblr, the intensity of such fandom shipping drama is nothing new. From “Destiel” (Dean and Castiel of Supernatural) to “Klance” (Keith and Lance of Voltron: Legendary Defender) to “Macdennis” (Mac and Dennis of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia) to “Stucky” (Steve and Bucky of the Marvel cinematic universe), shipping controversy has been escalating and mutating for years upon years, growing especially volatile when queer shipping enters the mix.
Still, there has been very little serious inquiry into what exactly is responsible for the toxicity of queer shipping groups. What determines which fandoms are wholesome, unproblematic spaces for fans to congregate and express themselves, and which are destined to devolve into toxic shitshows? While the determining factors of what constitutes fandom behavior are myriad and complex, one common thread linking many of history’s most volatile fandoms is the phenomenon of “queerbaiting”.
Queerbaiting, like most elements of queer television, has its roots in the Hays Code, a set of industry-imposed guidelines for all motion pictures released between 1938 and 1968 which prohibited any depiction of “sex perversion”, including homosexuality. Before it was legal to show explicit queer romance on screen, writers had to hint at alternative sexualities through subtext and subtlety: a lingering stolen glance, a confession hidden in euphemism, or a homosexual symbol placed deliberately in frame could all be used to indicate that a character had more to their sexuality than met the eye. As such, for decades, queer audiences were primed to closely analyze and scrutinize the media they consumed in hopes of finding representation where there otherwise was none.
In modern times, there have been major strides towards more queer representation on screen, but things are still far from ideal. Tropes like “bury your gays”, the “gay best friend” archetype, and modes of sapphic fetishization still constitute a large portion of queer presences on screen. And, indeed, in response to the emergence of increasingly dedicated queer audiences and fanspaces online over the past two decades, the particularly troubling practice of “queerbaiting” has emerged.
The term “queerbaiting” refers to when showrunners and networks tease and hint at the possibility of an on-screen queer relationship to generate engagement and interest from LGBTQ+ audiences, without ever actually canonizing said queer representation on screen. It is a deliberate act of exploiting queer audiences’ desperation for quality representation for monetary gain.
A textbook example of queerbaiting occurred in the 2018 series Voltron: Legendary Defenders when showrunners confirmed the presence of a queer relationship in the show’s upcoming season, urging queer audiences to help with promotion by heavily featuring character Shiro with his supposed ex-lover Adam in marketing materials. However, the actual relationship itself ended up receiving a whopping two scenes of screentime before Adam was unceremoniously killed off.
A far more complex, though no less egregious, instance of queerbaiting occurred in the previously mentioned BBC Sherlock fandom. From its premiere in 2010 to its finale in 2017, “Johnlock”, the pairing of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, dominated all corners of Tumblr, and it’s not exactly hard to see why. Almost every episode of Sherlock was littered with gay jokes and innuendos, creator Steve Moffat explicitly referred to the arc between Sherlock and Watson as a “love story”, and “Johnlock” was alluded to in many promotional materials by the BBC.
However, as the series wore on and “Johnlock” seemed no closer to becoming canon, fans grew increasingly weary and frustrated with the series’ showrunners. Toxic subcultures and fandom infighting emerged: some subscribed to “The Johnlock Conspiracy”, or TJLC, asserting that Johnlock was undoubtedly going to become canon, while others or “anti-TJLCers” had their doubts about the destiny of the ship.
While harmless at first, it didn’t take long for these schisms in the fandom to become toxic. TJLCers swore that non-TJLCers condoned queerbait and wanted to tear down canonical gay representation onscreen, and, as such, took to threatening, doxxing, and harassing TJLC-antis on message boards, blogs, and even in-person at conventions, as occurred at 221B Con. Many non-TJLCs cut ties with the fandom entirely, citing its negative effect on their mental health and even sense of safety.
Obviously, such behavior is unacceptable. Shipping discourse in the Sherlock fandom caused real, tangible harm to creators like Irene the Cosplayer, still traumatized by the violation of her boundaries and privacy to this day. But still, the question remains of who to hold responsible. Does the onus fall purely on the fanatical fans committing these acts of violence? Or, do the showrunners and studios who perpetuate such behavior also share some of the blame?
By no means did TJLC and its harmful practices spawn in a vacuum. BBC Sherlock’s showrunners actively encouraged fans to engage in fanatical, obsessive, and delusional analytical behaviors in order to maintain interest in the show during hiatus and increase viewership. The gay jokes, homoerotic subtext, references by showrunners, and promotion in marketing materials present in BBC Sherlock were absolutely central to TJLC’s core arguments. In fact, queerbait was so foundational to TJLC that, if such bait were not included in the show, it’s extremely likely that TJLC would never have escalated so rapidly if it even existed at all in the first place.
Obviously, no one at BBC wanted Sherlock fans to harass and doxx creators who disagreed with them on shipping discourse. However, it’s undeniable that by queerbaiting their audience, they created an environment extremely conducive to such behaviors: as Dreamworks did with Voltron, and the CW did with Supernatural, two other extremely volatile fandoms that suffered violent and toxic implosions.
Perhaps, in examining the messy and multifaceted monolith of the fandom, it’s time for us to turn our collective attention away from the individual “bad apples” that supposedly sour the bunch and more towards the corporations that have an explicit incentive to profit off of primarily young queer communities’ desperation to see themselves finally represented in a positive way on screen.