From the Archives: ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’ is My Root
5, 6, 7, 8…Oh my god, I’m not straight!
In honor of SPRING CLEANING, our upcoming IRL event with Sapph-Lit, we’re resharing our review of ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’! We’ll be screening this film at SPRING CLEANING (and also doing much more)!
The Yearning Rating: ✰✰✰✰½
Romance ✰✰✰✰
Sex ✰✰✰
Storytelling ✰✰✰✰✰
Performance ✰✰✰✰
Yearning ✰✰✰✰✰
Written by Ali Romig
I often pinch myself over the fact that But I’m a Cheerleader is a real movie that exists in our cold, hard world. Growing up, I loved teen rom coms1 (something that has clearly stuck with me, as I now edit young adult books for a living) and quickly learned how to read myself into a genre of film that didn’t appear made for me. Kat Stratford was gay; Janice Ian was gay; Tai was gay; Isis and Missy were obviously gay…you get the idea. It didn’t help that for a long time, the only sapphic rom com I was aware of was a low budget movie-musical that I’d stumbled upon on YouTube called Girltrash: All Night Long. And even though I maintain that the song “Fantasy Crush” is a bop, this didn’t exactly leave me with the sense that queer cinema was artful, edgy, or singular, as I know it to be now. Instead, I was left feeling like if I wanted to see myself represented fully, I’d have to sacrifice quality, and if I wanted quality, I’d have to accept straight narratives and try to queer them in whatever ways I could. It was while struggling with this dilemma that I discovered Jamie Babbit’s But I’m a Cheerleader. I am not exaggerating when I say this is exactly the kind of film I’d have magicked out of the ether if ever given the opportunity.
After a number of very concerning factors (being a Melissa Etheridge fan, vegetarianism, etc.) convince cheerleader Megan’s family and friends2 that she’s secretly a lesbian, she is sent off to True Directions, a gay conversion camp. There, the camp’s director, Mary Brown (Cathy Moriarty) adorns her in pink, teaches her how to perform classically female tasks, and forces her to first admit to and then “overcome” her homosexual desires. If you were to simply read the synopsis for But I’m a Cheerleader, you may think it all sounds a bit forlorn and bleak. It may even conjure up images for you of Nicole Kidman dressed in white lace and pearls, praying over Lucas Hedges. But don’t be fooled.
The film offers many things; social criticism, teen angst, and sweet romance—as wide-eyed Megan (Natasha Lyonne) meets and falls for Graham (Clea DuVall, in her 90s heartthrob era) at the camp. But most prominently, But I’m a Cheerleader offers a masterclass in satire. From the opening shot it is clear that none of the campers will ever be “converted” to heterosexuality; rather, they are portrayed as the wiser, more clear-eyed and clever counterpoints to the inept, barely repressed staff. As goateed “ex-gay” Mike, RuPaul looks just as dragged up as if he were in a spangly dress and big blond wig. It is at True Directions that Megan—who has been, up to this point, denying her sexuality—comes to terms with her true feelings, a fact that underlines the absolutely illogical foundation on which these types of conversion camps are built.
Part of the True Directions program is to find and acknowledge “the root” of each camper’s homosexuality. Graham’s is that her mom got married in pants; Hillary’s (MELANIE LYNSKY!) is that she went to an all-girls boarding school; Sinead’s (Katharine Towne) is that she was born in France. In case you’re wondering, my root would be finding this very movie in a Blockbuster as a kid, but I digress. Throughout the film, Megan struggles to figure out what her root is (spoiler: roots don’t exist) which complicates her journey to self-discovery. And here’s what I really love about this movie: it’s not only satirizing the idea of gay conversion camps, but also the very concept of the gender binary.
Megan is the titular cheerleader—she’s girly, she wears pink, she loves making people happy through the power of basic rhyme. Because these things are all genuine parts of her identity, she has trouble clearly seeing this other, seemingly incongruous side of herself. I like to think that we know better than to say that someone who’s femme is somehow “less gay”—but in reality, that isn’t always the case. But I’m a Cheerleader takes this warped and pervasive notion head on and asserts Megan’s validity through no uncertain terms. Her journey may be a more internal one, rather than a visual one, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less substantial. As a gay woman who grew up giving my mother makeovers and giddily stomping around in high-heels, and who never really outgrew wanting to play “dress up,” I love that by the end of the movie Megan is able to fully embrace both her femininity and her lesbianism—two things that are too often portrayed as at odds with one another. It’s not about her changing, it’s about her growing more completely into herself.
We see the other side of this, too, through Jan (Katrina Phillips). Jan is masc presenting, and so many just assume she is gay (that’s how she ended up at True Directions). But during one of their “therapy” sessions, Jan exclaims that, despite her baggy clothes and love of baseball, she’s a heterosexual. “I like guys,” she cries. “I can’t help it!” And despite the fact that they are all there to be “turned” into heterosexuals, when Jan claims to be one, they dismiss her. “Who the hell is she trying to fool?” Mike asks. There is something else the movie is trying to say here—about setting aside surface level impressions and expectations and actually taking the time to understand who people are. For a 90s movie, this idea of separating sexuality from gender expression feels incredibly contemporary—but of course, it’s always been there.
Since coming out in 1999, But I’m a Cheerleader has cemented itself as queer lore. The starring actors (Natasha Lyonne3, Clea DuVall, and Melanie Lynsky) have all rightfully earned their spots as some of the most wildly lesbian-worshiped women; similarly, the film’s likeness was recently revived for MUNA’s much-replayed “Silk Chiffon” music video. But this movie wasn’t always the cultural touchstone it is now. When But I’m a Cheerleader first premiered, it was almost universally panned. This may not come as a shock—it was the 90s, after all—and homophobes came after the movie from every angle they could. They objected to the content, obviously, but also to the heavy stylization. The movie features highly saturated blues and pinks—an aesthetic I’d describe as “Lynchian meets Barbie Dream House.” More surprising to director Jamie Babbit were the criticisms coming from within the queer community, some of whom felt that it was inappropriate to make a comedy out of such serious subject matter. In an interview with Variety for the movie’s 20th anniversary, Babbit defended her choice by saying, “I also was part of the community and felt like there was room to laugh at things.”
I don’t personally have any issues with the film creating something joyful—dare I say, a bit stupid—out of a tragic premise. Maybe this is partly because I know that the creators are members of the community, so their insights, observations, and disclosures feel authentic. When they make us laugh at one of the campers, I understand that this isn’t to kick them while they're down, but rather to build out their humanity. We should be able to recognize and laugh at the ridiculousness in ourselves, and this shouldn’t negate our worth. Allowing these things to exist together does not degrade, it enhances. So many movies about lesbians—some very good!—are so self-serious. They are gray and sad, full of yearning4 and lacking a realized connection, and just generally miserable. Just because someone’s been forced into a tragic situation, doesn’t mean that’s all they are. So I welcome this vibrant, hilarious, romantic—and yes, at times dark—gem with open arms!
I think my love for But I’m a Cheerleader has intensified over the years because it unfortunately still feels so singular. It’s not just about its actors, or its aesthetic, or its humor—it's that this movie manages to deliver on all of those fronts and be about a very specifically gay experience. Queerness is as essential to this film as cheerleading. More recently, there has been a movement to create more joyful gay stories—something I think we can all get behind. But oftentimes this idea gets filtered down and distilled, with the end result being a product that isn’t necessarily a joyful gay story, but a joyful story that just happens to be about gay people. What’s the difference? It allows queer storytelling on screen to ignore the lived reality of the queer experience, in order to create a more palatable, ‘easy’ (read: less complicated) movie.
I recently watched a queer Christmas rom com (no, not that one) that followed a sapphic couple, and they never acknowledged the characters' queerness outside of their attraction to each other. I recognize the need for movies like this5, and understand that there are good intentions here—ones aimed at normalizing queerness onscreen—but I’d also hate to see this kind of over-simplification be where the genre ultimately lands. I don’t want to see queer characters copy/pasted into straight scenarios or situations (which ultimately implies that for queer people, the goal is to “fit in” to a cisheterosexist society). I’d like to watch someone find the humor in our queer reality, rather than ignore it altogether. This is why But I’m a Cheerleader is such a breath of fresh gay air! The whole movie feels like one big, queer in-joke. It can be dark, but the darkness comes from somewhere real. Without this specificity, there is no authenticity—give me a movie that winks at me knowingly over one that offers me empty platitudes any day.
If I’m being honest, I was intimidated at the thought of reviewing But I’m a Cheerleader—it’s meant so much to me for so long, and I wondered how and if I’d be able to successfully capture all that makes it special. I still think about the final scene often—the acoustic guitar strumming over Megan’s love cheer, Graham’s soft smile as she realizes that finally someone cares enough to fight for her, Mary’s increasingly incomprehensible religious babble falling away as they make out in their getaway car. I don’t know if I can express how formative it was for me to see a happy ending like this—one that feels almost breathtaking in its predictability. This is the classic teen rom com finale, and yet it’s one I never thought I’d see in a queer movie. Instead of trying to wax poetic, I’ll leave you with these words:
1,2,3,4 - I won't take no anymore.
5,6,7,8 - I want you to be my mate.
1,2,3,4 - you're the one that I adore.
5,6,7,8 - don't run from me 'cause this is fate.
You can watch But I’m a Cheerleader with us IRL at SPRING CLEANING! Come for the film, stay for the photo booth, fun brunch bites, and free queer book swap.
Details and tickets here!
Game, set, match? Next week on The Yearning, Meg ends our spring break with a review of Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers.
I recently saw something that was like, “Wow, candy was really huge in the 90s,” and I thought, “Was it? Or were we just children who loved candy in the 90s?” That’s how I feel when people say 90s teen comedies were inherently better. Were they? Or were we just the target audience back then? I truly don’t know. A debate for another time…
Most notably Michelle Williams sporting her “bad girl Jen” haircut from Dawson’s Creek season 2.
Was anyone else SHOCKED when they inevitably learned that Natasha Lyonne is in fact straight?!
See what I did there?
Okay, maybe I don’t, but if that’s your cup of tea, NO judgment!