"The Ultimatum: Queer Love" Wasn't Queer Enough, but I Still Want More

The undeniably U-Haul-y nature of dating shows is the perfect set up for a cast made up entirely of queer women and nonbinary people. It's why "The Ultimatum: Queer Love" was such a thrilling prospect when the first few episodes aired right before Pride month started.

The show is a spinoff from "The Ultimatum: Marry or Move On," and it's exactly as it sounds. Someone in the relationship has issued an ultimatum: put a ring on it or break up. Over the course of six weeks, each of the five couples spend the first half in a "trial marriage" with a new partner and the second half with the partner they came with. It's literally a show where they all date each other's exes. How much more lesbian can you get?

While it's not the first dating reality TV show to depict queer relationships (hello, "Are You the One?"), it is the first for Netflix, the massive streaming service. And unfortunately, like all firsts, the "Queer Love" cast felt the pressure of representing their entire community on such an enormous platform. Cast member Lexi Goldberg told the New York Times that the sense of responsibility was palpable almost immediately.

"It was kind of this unspoken thing," Goldberg told NYT. "Not that the stakes were higher, but that the importance of being good representatives was something we should consider day in and day out." She continued, "But it doesn't mean we don't get to have relationships and feel and cry and deal with problems the way they arise."

But if anyone was watching to get a better sense of normalcy in queer relationships, I'm not sure if the show does a good job. The heavy heteronormative undertones kept the cast from discussing identity in any meaningful way or breaking out of the mold of traditional couples. It leads one to ask: who was the intended audience? While us queers flocked to Netflix to watch and Twitter to gossip, it was very clear from the start that the show wasn't truly meant for us.

This can be easily seen in the lack of pronouns on screen and selecting a straight host. During the reunion, when everyone is tuned in for juicy details and drama, it was also odd that Goldberg had to stop and explain — on a show titled "Queer Love" — how queer sex is not easily definable, all because the host inappropriately referred to a tense sexual experience between two cast mates as "Fingergate." Besides being a painfully cringe thing to say, it took me out of the moment and forced me to see my community through the lens of a cishet woman. And while that's not necessarily equivalent to the male gaze, per se, it had the same objectifying quality to it.

Audre Lorde writes in her essay "Age, Race, Class, and Sex: Women Redefining Difference" that queer people are expected to educate the heterosexual world. "There is a constant drain of energy which might be better used in redefining ourselves and devising realistic scenarios for altering the present and constructing the future." So my hope for the cast is that those six weeks felt like a space of growth and not just for the amusement of others.

From my point of view, there were certain moments of growth throughout the show. For example, when Aussie Chau had an epiphany of sorts and realized how their relationship with Sam Mark was influenced by their internal toxic masculinity despite their nonbinary identity. The conversation shed a light on how gender dynamics still influence queer relationships. Or when Mal Wright became a crowd favorite after putting her ego aside to give her partner Yoly the support she needed (even if it meant watching her fall in love with someone else).

And of course it can't be forgotten that this is reality TV at the end of the day, which I doubt Audre Lorde had in mind when writing her many manifestos. Maybe it's OK that the whole point of the show wasn't centered on queer liberation — because, in a way, the show was a way of liberating us from the exhausting endless battle of proving we deserve to love and make mistakes like anybody else! The cast was filled with flawed, complicated people like any other reality TV show, but making it queer made it more compelling.

From queer AF backstories (Vanessa Papa and Xander Boger met in high school because their boyfriends at the time were best friends) to gay double proposals, "Queer Love" was delightfully sincere if not unhinged. I mean, you can't forget Tiff Der choosing their dog over their trial wife. (Or as comedian Ely Kreimendahl put it, "Tiff yelling 'I can't be with anyone who doesn't give a shit about my dog!!!!' is lesbian dog culture at its realest.") Or when Aussie practically gave Sam a heart attack when she pulled out a heart-shaped rock instead of the expected engagement ring. Simply put, heteros just can't give us the same quality of television.

Unfortunately, we also witnessed the darker side of reality TV that has been more recognized lately: producers will do anything to capture drama, even if it's to the detriment of the cast member's comfort and mental health. A huge example of this is when Mildred Woody was invited to the reunion despite having been arrested for domestic violence against her partner Der. Not only did it escalate to the point that Der left in tears but it gave the impression that Woody's behavior was anything but abusive. But by orchestrating this event, the producers also unintentionally highlighted a common issue in queer relationships: how femmes are often not held accountable for mistreating their masc partner, which can be credited in part to false perceptions around same-sex intimate partner violence.

If there's one thing the show got right, it's destroying the common trope of straight women wishing they could date women over men. We've all heard the throwaway phrases before: "God I wished I liked women" or "I wish I was lesbian. Dating would be so much easier." If anyone still holds the sentiment that "queer dating is easier," they simply need to watch this show to understand how untrue that is. Women and queer people aren't inherently "good," or morally superior, because they're not inherently anything. No community is a monolith and treating it as such brings its own dangers.

Overall, the show is definitely not without criticism and there is plenty of feedback for them to consider next season. But I honestly hope there is a season 2, because this show breaks us out of the Target-Merchandise-Rainbow-Logos box that we've been put in. We're allowed to be messy too! Being messy humanizes us. And amidst the influx of anti-trans and anti-drag legislation (not to mention the Human Rights Campaign declaring a state of emergency for LGBTQ+ people), we deserve to be seen as three-dimensional people.