Truly, Madly, Deadly_ The Unofficial True Blood Companion - Becca Wilcott [40]
As to why vampires seem to be such prevalent queer icons, Juergens suggests that the easy answer would be that the undead are “sexy, horny, and operate somewhat beyond the societal restrictions of traditional heterosexuality.” But he also believes that vampires have evolved alongside society’s fears, coming to represent what he thinks are the internalized fears of what many queers fear meeting, if not becoming, “namely, the purely sexual being that destroys what it desires. In a world with aids,” Juergens begins, “the fluids-obsessed sexual predator is extremely taboo, and can therefore be fascinating.” He’s quick to qualify that not all vampires fit this analogy, noting that vampires have been interpreted in so many ways as to be unrecognizable from one film to the next. “For instance,” he says, “I don’t know that the doting, neutered sparkly things from Twilight have much to offer queer viewers.”
Brian Juergens of www.CampBlood.org senses something behind him. Duck, Brian!!! (Photo by Mark Bradley Miller)
Where the lgbt metaphor of True Blood differs greatly from the lgbt community is the prevailing notion that a vampire is not born, it’s made, something that should stick in the craw of any gay rights activist who has spent his or her life arguing the exact opposite: that sexual identity may evolve, but it’s not something that’s forced upon a person, nor can one be changed, one way or the other. Nor, to hearken back to a time where gays wondered if there was a synthetic alternative to the way lgbt people “feed.” Sexual conversion camps have tried to satisfy this purpose, offering God as the tonic. Drink deep enough and you’ll stave off the cravings.
That said, True Blood has created a world in which it’s actually fun to get upset about such things. And it’s by far the safest show on television to house these kind of conflicts. Alan Ball introduces hefty themes of excess and consequence, fanaticism and redemption, cult and community. It’s emotional, boundary-pushing, and surprisingly spiritual, which is where most bloodshed begins.
Bringing vampires out of the coffin is a brilliant narrative device, because it introduces the notion that something can be both timeless and ever-changing, more or less the key to ensuring that humanity survives, and peaceably at that. Wrapped in attractive vamps and busty waitresses, there’s a lot of navel-gazing to be had. On a level of pure escapism, this gives True Blood’s writers the chance to play on the politics of contemporary society while having fun with what Ball describes as “the terrors of intimacy.” In doing so, Sookie and Bill’s story isn’t just girl meets vampire, a modern love story for modern times; there’s plenty in the series to suggest that times have not a-changed. So True Blood observes traditions alongside expanding definitions of normality. (In truth, a Sookie and Bill hook-up is so conservative, it’s downright monogamous. One man, one woman, for all eternity? And, she’s a virgin, no less?)
The idea of vampires living openly in Louisiana may feel progressive, but if history is to repeat itself, any time a group “outs” itself, it’s at the risk of remaining open to criticism and violence. Bill may have been around for close to two centuries, but he’s not impervious to threat. In the real world, most of us can remember in our lifetimes Harvey Milk’s assassination or Matthew Shepard’s torture, after which he was left to die alone. So while it may seem supernatural to some to cast diversity in a range of paranormal creatures (and those who love them), this is where popular culture has the opportunity to promote innovative thought and action, such as in 1968 when Star Trek showed the first interracial kiss on American television between Captain Kirk (Caucasian) and Lt. Uhura