Television now looks very different than it has in the past. The screen has gotten wider, and the image on it clearer. The people and places in those images have changed in a number of ways as well. Our notions of what a television family is defined as has especially evolved over time. Where gay parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc., were once trailblazers, they are now reasonably commonplace, either as lead or supporting characters. The Jeffersons and Cosby's are no longer the only black families we recognize on the screen when we also have The Johnson's. Television has become more reflective of the other side of the screen. Reflection does not equate to perfection, but it does give hope and show promise. This didn't happen by accident. It happened because the people behind the scenes changed too. No one got subtracted; instead, they multiplied and diversified.
When Pose arrived on our television screens in 2018, it was truly nothing like anything we had ever seen before. The largest transgender cast ever brought together in television history to tell a story untold heretofore across serialized entertainment. The Ballroom Scene was home for millions who sought refuge and support after having been casted out of their homes for being who they are: Gay, trans, too black, not enough white, etc. For whatever reasons, society felt fit to push them aside, but they refused to be forgotten or silenced. It was through these competitions, these performances, through the creation of an entirely new dance that they proclaimed their existence for any and all who would listen, even if that just meant themselves most of the time. They battled a plague with help from some, but nowhere near enough, including the so-called government sworn to protect them. The oath they shared with each other was far more powerful than a pledge of allegiance to a flag that refused to accept them, to honor their right of pursuit of happiness. The Ballroom Scene was a home, and like any home, it contained a family.
What Pose understood best, beyond its ability to tell important underrepresented stories in an honest and true way, was that the family they were depicting wasn't that different from many others seen before on the television landscape. Sure, maybe on the glittery surface level of things, but beneath the trophies and wardrobe, beneath the ballroom floor lied something, dare we say it, conservative in nature—the nuclear family. Pose envisioned the American Dream but within the context of the black, brown, and queer bodies that continue not to be allowed equitable access to it up to this very day.
Matriarchs have played a pivotal role in television since its very inception. From Carol Brady to Peg Bundy, from Lousie Jefferson to Gloria Delgado-Pritchett. They protect and defend their children's to the ends of the earth but aren't afraid to discipline them when warranted. They are doting wives but also autonomous in many ways, thanks to their female intuition. Blanca Evangelista displays all this and more. Mj Rodriguez brings her to life not by relying on sentiment but on earnest sensibilities instead. Her ability to connect with her children lies primarily in the fact that she lived their lives before, but unlike other television mothers, she didn't live it decades prior, but just a few short years ago. Blanca's belief in her children didn't always extend to herself, but she refused even to allow that to stop her from pursuing her dreams of raising a family towards greatness far beyond what she had initially conceived. It is her graceful patience that also allowed her to find a man worthy of her love and devotion. She gave affection to the abandoned, the rejected, and the repulsed. Though not as religious as some other television mothers of the past, she is, arguably, one of the most saint-like. Yet perfection was never in the cards for her. There will never be another television character just like her, although we can only hope and pray we are proven wrong. Everyone deserves to have a Blanca on their side.
Blanca's parenting style directly contrasted with that of her own House Mother, Elektra, whose spare the rod spoil and beat the child (no, not literally) approach to raising her children was often perceived as heartless, but as the series progressed, we came to understand that Elektra's actions were anything but. She was preparing her children for the cruelty of the world outside the confines of the shelter she provided for them. Unbeknownst to either her or Blanca, she was giving her the life tools to become a woman and a parent from the day they first set eyes on each other at that fateful ball. Many women don't come to appreciate the sacrifices their mothers made for them until they become mothers themselves. This maternal animosity is very commonly utilized as a plot-trope throughout television history, and Pose utilized it just the same. Elektra did not get "nicer". We all just grew up and got a little wiser. We may not always agree with Grandma, but we know that her love for us is tried and true. Dominique Jackson never let a moment of screen time go to waste in her portrayal of Elektra Abundance-Wintour, be it through humorous wit or tear-inducing dramatics. She understood that this woman wasn't made to be liked but respected.
Damon's aspirations, alongside his novice perception of the world around him, makes him the quintessential baby of the family. He dreams big but often wakes up to harsh realities. Ryan Jamaal Swain invokes both fortitude and fragility in bringing Damon to life, not just in his acting performance but his dancing as well. Every move of the arm, every sway of the leg oozes with purpose, a burgeoning butterfly from its cocoon. He very easily could've stayed in his horrid life of self-repression and homophobia but instead had the courage to escape it and land in a better home than the one he left could've ever given him, even with a mother who had less money and resources at her disposal than his so-called biological one. It is no wonder he clings to Mother Blanca like the youngest typically does to their mother bird. His mistakes made him real, and his triumphs made him our lovable hero. Swain is sorely missed in the majority of the final season due to a personal tragedy that befell him, but we can only hope he was able to access some of that strength and resourcefulness he brought to this diamond of a character to help get through his own personal ordeal. Damon's arc, despite being partially unfinished will stand as a testament to gay little boys of every color that dared to dream and work towards a better life.
Angel is the embodiment of everything one hopes to find in a daughter. Doting, yet defiant. She is protective of what she has and hungry for what she desires most, a chance not just to exist but to prosper in her existence. She sheds plenty of tears along her path towards success, and despite Indya Moore's unabashed delivery, we still wish we could wipe each from her remarkable face. Her relationship with Papi might feel incestuous to some, but keep in mind that Alicia Silverstone literally falls in love with her step-brother in Clueless (1995). If you can accept that plotline, certainly you can make room for the blossoming love of these two lost souls. Angel, who thought one day she'd be the mother of a Ballroom House, instead becomes a mother to an actual child, one that she will no doubt imbue with all of her wonderful qualities. Not everyone is made to be a mother, but no one should be denied the chance of becoming one. Angel goes from the nurtured to the nurturer, as many daughters do when they grow up to become mothers themselves.
Being the middle child is never easy, not that I would know, but by God does Lil Papi make the absolute most of it. He often steps to the sidelines to give his siblings the spotlights that he realizes they crave but never stops working to provide for his family and make his mother proud. This doesn't mean he always succeeds, but his faults endear him to his House Family and us as he uses them to grow from a thieving boy to an entrepreneurial man. Angel Bismark Curiel brings to life a character that so easily could've fallen into the obscurity of the background but instead shines as brightly as the individual family members he dotes on. He is sensitive without boastful pride, an antithesis to the toxic machismo archetype that too many men with his skin tone are subjugated. He loves a girl that others would harm for simply breathing. Papi was always someone in the middle, trying to find his place without taking up too much space, and he managed to make us smile and laugh while doing it. Men should aspire to him, and women should find solace in the hope that there are more others out there like him. He doesn't just make his mother proud, but us as well.
Sometimes parents are given gifts they never would've otherwise dreamt of. These gifts are often called "the unplanned child." When Blanca started her family, she was a mother of three, and though open to having more children, never could she have expected to have one quite like Ricky. Though they had their rough times together and Ricky has made his more than fair share of questionable decisions, he proved to be a valuable asset to the House of Evangelista. The final season gave actor Dyllón Burnside a mountain of good material to allow the character to be expanded upon even further. Children can surprise you, and Ricky's maturity was no doubt a surprise to both Blanca and ourselves, but it proves that no one should be counted out in a family that exclusively breeds stars.
Not everyone is as fortunate as to have an uncle that is as enlightened and wise as Pray Tell. He will yell at you when your wrong, and even sometimes when your right. He has been through more life in a month than you've lived in your entire existence. He's been in your shoes, felt them cut into his heels and strut down the ballroom floor despite the pain. Billy Porter doesn't "play" this character, he defines him, and the millions of souls both lost and thriving that he represents. He is unapologetically femme and yet exudes authoritative masculinity that cannot be wavered or denied. He is light and dark, soft and hard. He is queerness in preeminence and stands by his Trans Sisters with everything he has and then some. Few other shows have displayed the importance of the extended family members as Pose has. Pray Tell is not just an extension but an essential component to Blanca and her children's lives. Without him, they'd be lost and as often is the case in the family, the same is true vice-versa. There are family members whose influence far surpasses the mortal clock they've been given, often with less time than they deserved. Pray Tell will forever be an important and unsilenced echo in his family and the ones lucky and smart enough to allow his words to enter their hearts and homes.
Lula and Candy are the sarcastic aunts. They will be your closest allies or greatest enemies, depending on the paths you are choosing to take in your life, but you will always have a home inside their arms, even if they don't always hold them open for you. Candy's loss was an, unfortunately, necessary-suffering, not just because it brings a harsh light onto the dangers that impede the safety of black trans women's bodies, but also because if not for this loss, how could we fully appreciate the power of this family? How could we fully appreciate the power of our own? A family's greatest test is their survival following the loss of one of their kin. We see the Houses come together to honor her memory and set their differences aside while also reflecting on their own mortality. This is the gift Candy gave them in death, and it is one we as viewers should always cherish as much as those we have in our own lives that we'd never want to lose. Lula always had a comment to spare and, when in a good enough mood, a shoulder of support to cry on. Her journey through grief and addiction was rarely the center of the show's narrative, but it still managed to resonate with so many on a fundamental level. These are women we know in our lives, but what we don't always realize is beneath their brash exteriors lies bruised and battered souls, fighting every single day to make it in this world.
Cubby and Lamar are the cousins. They are there to have fun with but also will rally around you in your times of need, mostly. They are far from perfect, but they are your family, and you share a bond with them that exceeds DNA.
Television families will continue to evolve over time as they should. Our definition of what a family comprised of a few years ago might not be identical to what we identify as a family today. However, there are still essential components that stand the test of time and Pose proved time and again that it offered us unique but recognizable spins on these essentials throughout its three-season run. That is why at its core, Pose should not be just remembered as a "Trans Show" or a "Queer Show" or even the revered title of a "revolutionary show." To truly encapsulate and appreciate the significance of the narrative and its characters, Pose must be remembered as what it is: a show about a family, one not forged by blood but of necessity and transcendent commonality in their otherness.
As one final note on such a groundbreaking television series as this, while my words may carry some weight and purpose, it's important to recognize that Pose wasn't written for me. That doesn't mean I, nor others like me, can't enjoy it. We most certainly can and should. However, for some, Pose acts as an all too real reflection of the traumas, triumphs and aspirations they've faced in a world mostly built against them. For people like myself, it is an educational experience as much, if not even more, than an opportunity to be entertained. While I and others have a right to have a seat at the table, we should be cognizant of when it is our turn to speak. For the past three seasons, it was Pose's turn, and the show spoke loud, proud and authentically. We should all do what we can to ensure that these voices continue to be heard and that their silencing is abolished, not their right to exist.
