‘Crazy Ex-Girlfriend’ Gets Bisexual Representation Right

The musical sitcom shows the gradual development of a male bisexual character, who willfully rejects bi stereotypes to the point of addressing them in song and dance. And for anyone who cares about bisexual representation on-screen, it is magnificent. … The image of a bi character both confident in his identity and committed to addressing biphobic stereotypes — not to mention the incredible catchiness of the tune — is deeply satisfying.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

This guest post written by Alex Kittle appears as part of our theme week on Bisexual Representation.


Rachel Bloom’s risky, groundbreaking, Emmy-winning musical sitcom Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is often (and rightfully) praised for its focus on a protagonist with mental illness, depicting the ins and outs of anxiety and depression with frankness, compassion, and humor (despite the series’ ableist title). What might be equally significant for some viewers is the gradual development of a male bisexual character, who willfully rejects bi stereotypes to the point of addressing them in song and dance. And for anyone who cares about bisexual representation on-screen, it is magnificent.

In the pilot, Darryl Whitefeather (played by Pete Gardner) is introduced as a fairly flat supporting character: our protagonist’s new boss and something of a walking punchline. Rebecca (Rachel Bloom), a well-educated but emotionally precarious lawyer, takes a job at Whitefeather & Associates as an excuse to move to West Covina, CA, where her first love Josh Chan (Vincent Rodriguez III) just happens to live. Though his name is on the letterhead, Darryl doesn’t seem to have much authority or confidence, and he is ecstatic that a well-respected New York lawyer like Rebecca would deign to join his firm. He immediately overshares about his pending divorce as well as his Native American heritage (1/8 Chippewa), while managing to embarrass himself in front of his new Jewish employee with an anti-Semitic remark. It feels like the show is setting him up as a kind of Michael Scott-esque character, a floundering, ineffectual, ignorant boss who talks too much and is overly self-involved.

As the season progresses he becomes more fleshed out, more sympathetic, and more likable. We see that the most important thing in his life is his young daughter, of whom he is considered the “primary parent,” as he argues for custody during his divorce. His first song is a country-western parody about his love for her, which jokingly reveals how easy it is for for declarations of fatherly affection to sound, well, icky. Darryl is shown as unabashedly emotional and loving, setting him apart early on from the other men in the show who exhibit more traditionally “masculine” traits.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

But Darryl’s sexuality is never a question until he meets Josh “White Josh” Wilson (David Hull), a handsome, good-natured trainer and one of Josh Chan’s best friends. They meet on a party bus rented by Rebecca for a Josh Chan-related scheme, and immediately separate themselves from the drama, bonding over fitness talk. Some time later, feeling lonely and out of sorts while his daughter is away, Darryl throws a party for Josh and some of his friends. After staying to help him clean up, Josh kisses Darryl goodbye, igniting a chain reaction of self-discovery. He finds out Josh is gay and that Josh had assumed he was gay (he picked up “the gay vibe”), but Darryl reacts defensively, asserting that he is attracted to women, was married to a woman, and had a child with a woman. Josh assumes he’s in denial but doesn’t push it.

Still clearly unsure about whatever feelings Josh seems to have stirred within him, Darryl has a sudden realization during dance class, as he appreciatively eyes the backsides of both a man and woman in front of him: he is attracted to both! Thrilled that it all makes sense, he rushes to come out to Josh, but is nervous about embarking publicly in a same-sex relationship. Josh — who has been out since he was a tween — has no desire to hide any of his relationships from others. After wrestling with it, Darryl realizes he was wrong in trying to keep it secret, and that he is ready to be an out bisexual as he re-enters the dating pool. Over the rest of the season, they gradually become the most stable, uncomplicated relationship on the show, spending the finale together at the climactic wedding, proudly wearing matching tuxedos and seeming comfortable both with each other and with anyone else who might see them.

In the episode “Josh is Going to Hawaii!,” Darryl comes out to his staff through a Huey Lewis-inspired musical number, in what is to me one of the most important and enjoyable segments of the entire first season of this series. With candy-colored lighting, multiple popped collars, and a heaping dose of saxophone, he sings his way through the simple facts of bisexuality, the unfair stereotyping associated with it, and the excitement of coming out. With the through-line “I’m g-g-g-g-gettin’ bi,” lyrics include: “Now some may say / Are you just gay? / Why don’t you just go gay all the way? / But that’s not it / ‘Cause bi’s legit!”; “I tell you what / Being bi does not imply / That you’re a ‘player’ or a ‘slut’”; “It’s not a phase / I’m not confused / Not indecisive / I don’t have the gotta-choose blues”; and of course, the soon-to-be-classic, “It doesn’t take an intellectual / To get that I’m bisexual.”

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Darryl dances and bounds around the meeting room as well as an imaginary stage, relieved upon having this realization about himself and gleeful about sharing it with others. The image of a bi character both confident in his identity and committed to addressing biphobic stereotypes — not to mention the incredible catchiness of the tune — is deeply satisfying. And revealing the mixture of support and disinterest from his friends and coworkers imagines a possible future where people are accepting of different sexual orientations, while not being fixated on them. As one of his staff points out, the weirdest thing about their boss coming out is that he called a meeting just to tell everyone in the office that.

Bi characters are already less common in film and television, and when they do show up, they are often predatory, overly sexualized, or “going through a phase.” In many cases, the term “bisexual” (or pansexual or any of the concept’s variants) may never even be used, erasing the identity altogether by refusing to name it. One common experience I’ve observed among many bisexual people is that the lack of media representation led to some confusion while growing up, questioning the validity of the identity, and struggling to come to terms with what it means and how it fits into the larger queer community. Can I say I’m bisexual if I’m not fully sure of my preference? If I haven’t dated anyone? If I’ve only dated one gender? If I’m in a serious male/female relationship? Could this be a phase? Do I have to pick a side?

Today, more and more visible celebrities are coming out as bi, and that’s fantastic, but it is still crucial for popular media to positively depict bi characters and give them their own stories. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend not only names it, but celebrates and nurtures it, developing Darryl’s subplot across several episodes as he moves from being in a monogamous “straight” relationship in which he was unhappy for years, to recognizing his own preferences and finding acceptance from both self and others. By the season one finale, he is even given the possibility of a happy (and adorable) ending, and I can’t wait to see where things go from here.


Alex Kittle is an artist, writer, retail buyer, and curator who lives and works in the Boston area. She is passionate about many things, including horror movies, 80s new wave, feminist art history, crossword puzzles, and science-fiction. You can find her at almost any given time of day hanging out on Twitter @alexxkittle.

Why ‘Desperately Seeking Susan’ Is One of My Favorite Films

The character was created to be an icon, a model for Roberta and other women like her, an image to hold in our heads of what life could be like if we just unleashed our inner pop star. But she’s also real enough that it feels like you might spot her in a hip nightclub, dancing uninhibited and having more fun than anyone else there just because she’s being herself.

Desperately Seeking Susan

This guest post written by Alex Kittle appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors.


It isn’t referenced much in any well-informed, critical film discussions. It isn’t typically put forth as a shining example of 80s cinema, or women-directed cinema, or Madonna-starring cinema. It probably isn’t used in many film classes. It isn’t especially well-remembered today, except as a kind of style footnote within the singer’s long and storied career. And yet, I would easily count Susan Seidelman’s Desperately Seeking Susan among my favorite films.

I remember the very first time I ever saw this movie. I was about 16, and I was home sick with a bad cold. I was in a fog all day but couldn’t sleep, so I hazily watched movies on cable TV all afternoon. Desperately Seeking Susan came on one of our movie channels and I immediately fell for its hip 80s New York world. I grew up in a boring suburb across the river from New York City, and easily imagined myself crossing the tunnel and joining a rock band and living a super-cool city life and having wild but sexy fashion sense when I got older. I especially romanticized the punk/new wave scene of the 70s and 80s, when there was graffiti everywhere and cool musicians hanging out on every corner, and young people could live in crumbling bohemian apartments and no one ever seemed to need a day job. I wanted to be an independent young woman who exuded confidence and had street smarts and wore red lipstick and could somehow eat a puffy cheeto without getting cheese dust all over her body. Instead, I was stuck in my small town with my awkward teen body and a personal style that took many more years to cultivate into anything I could be comfortable with.

Basically, I was a Roberta. And I wanted to be a Susan.

Desperately Seeking Susan 2

Combining wacky caper with romantic comedy and class satire, Desperately Seeking Susan is about a bored, lonely housewife named Roberta living in Fort Lee, NJ, who longs for something to spice up her cookie-cutter existence. She knows she’s desperate, but she’s not sure for what, she just has a vague feeling of dissatisfaction, of disconnection from her bland husband and yuppie friends. It takes a total movie-comedy moment (in the form of an amnesia-inducing bump on the head) to free her from the lifestyle she had fallen into; a large portion of the film is dedicated to her coming into herself and finding her personality. Being mistaken for Susan means she can model herself after Susan, or at least everyone’s image of Susan. Without her memories and without any connection to her real life, Roberta is suddenly able to do anything, and to be anybody, a thought which obviously excites her. She starts (and immediately quits) smoking, makes out with a near-stranger, learns to perform magic, dresses to kill, and foils a murderous criminal plot.

Madonna’s character Susan, on the other hand, is introduced as a sexy new wave nomad, breezing her way through relationships and hotel rooms across the country, presumably charming everyone she meets and never having to pay for anything herself. She wears mesh tops and chunky jewelry, her bold lipstick is never smudged, and she dates a cute boy in a rock band. She is effortlessly cool and fully self-assured, full of ideas and never ever boring. She struts around New York City without a care in the world, believing that everyone can come to her, and everything will work out the way she wants it to. She embodies the New York downtown scene of the early 80s, a movement Madonna herself was involved in before she catapulted to fame around the time of the film’s release, which gives her an authenticity that couldn’t be captured with an outsider actress. The character was created to be an icon, a model for Roberta and other women like her, an image to hold in our heads of what life could be like if we just unleashed our inner pop star. But she’s also real enough that it feels like you might spot her in a hip nightclub, dancing uninhibited and having more fun than anyone else there just because she’s being herself.

Desperately Seeking Susan 5

While not all of Roberta’s exploratory adventures actually suit her, she seems able to find a happy medium between her former good-natured housewife self and the wild-girl persona that was thrust upon her. And yes, part of that happens through finding love, real love that isn’t the watered-down marriage she’d been stuck in for four years. But the story isn’t about finding yourself through a man, or any relationship, it’s about finding yourself outside of those things. One of my favorite exchanges of the movie is towards the end when Roberta confronts her dopey (and hilariously terrible) husband, Gary, after he finally tracks her down to the club where she’s working as a magician’s assistant. “Look at me,” she says. His response is, “I looked at you, you look ridiculous.” “I mean, look at ME, Gary!” she implores. Her face and her inflection speak volumes, and it’s clear this is the most weight she has ever given to the word “me,” that this is the first time she really understands what the word means. And finally she asserts, “I’m not coming home with you.” It’s a really good moment.

I’m not saying Desperately Seeking Susan should be held up as some great, under-appreciated feminist text. I’m not saying Susan should be considered a role model, or that she served as mine specifically (for one thing, she smokes, so that’s a dealbreaker). What I am hoping for is a little respect. This film is primarily remembered for Madonna’s fashion and a string of musical cameos (John Lurie, Annie Golden, Richard Edson, Anne Magnuson, etc.), but it would be great if it was more often cited as what it is to me: A significant entry into the never-big-enough genre of empowering women’s stories. Because, as a former sick teen sitting at home on the couch, forever uncool and unsure, it was nice to watch Roberta becoming her own person for the first time, and to witness Susan just being Susan. It still is.


Alex Kittle is an artist, writer, retail buyer, and curator who lives and works in the Boston area. She is passionate about many things, including horror movies, 80s new wave, feminist art history, crossword puzzles, and science-fiction. You can find her at almost any given time of day hanging out on Twitter at @alexxkittle.