‘Lost Girl’: Breaking the Mold For Bisexual Representation on TV

Series creator and season one’s co-showrunner, Michelle Lovretta structured the idea of a bisexual female superhero around being a succubus: “a mythological being who uses sex to feed, heal, and kill” — a traditionally vilified female role that used sex as a weapon. … Awareness of the unique challenges of bisexual representation allowed Bo to be a genuinely complex heroine, instead of just a problematic stereotype. She was carefully crafted to be sex positive, while being defined by her relationships, instead of her sexuality.

Lost Girl

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


The Canadian fantasy television series, Lost Girl, had a complex and intimate relationship with bisexual representation. Like most shows, years of development had to occur before it appeared on television. During this time, there was a deliberate attempt to counter negative perceptions of bisexual characters in its writing. It also had a rather fraught path to the small screen, one that producer Jay Firestone laid squarely at the feet of its “bisexual element.” He described how he first thought of the idea, in a 2012 Comic-Con interview:

“A couple of my friends and I were talking about what sort of Buffy would be like today versus when Buffy was out. And I made a joke at one point and said Buffy would be bisexual, and everyone said what a cool idea! So we started developing it from there.”

But the production team had a hard time finding a workable script. Series creator and season one’s co-showrunner, Michelle Lovretta, eventually landed it for them, structuring the idea of a bisexual female superhero around being a succubus: “a mythological being who uses sex to feed, heal, and kill” — a traditionally vilified female role that used sex as a weapon. Both Lovretta and Firestone expressed the difficulties they had in managing a television series around Bo (Anna Silk), such a sexually powerful, bisexual lead character:

“I went and sold it, tried to sell it, to everybody… and they were all scared of it a bit… They were nervous about the bisexual element,” Firestone said. “That’s what scared everybody.”

Lovretta relates her own anxiety about the show in this Watercooler Journal interview:

“But after that initial excitement came trepidation – it is so, so incredibly easy with a template like that to create something mind-numbingly insulting, anti-female, and exploitative. I wouldn’t want my name on that. And, as someone who respects both the straight and queer communities, I was afraid of alienating either of them in the process… or, of just making neutered, boring TV by overthinking it and being too PC. Gah!! The challenge was to create a fun, sex-positive world that celebrates provocative cheesecake for everyone, without falling into base stereotypes or misogynistic (or misandristic) exploitation along the way.”

Lost Girl

She set up a series of rules in her writers’ room to address the problems:

  1. “Sexual orientation is not discussed, and never an issue;
  2. “No slut shaming – Bo is allowed to have sex outside of relationships
  3. “Bo’s male and female partners are equally viable;
  4. “Bo is capable of monogamy, when desired;
  5. “Both genders are to be (adoringly!) objectified — equal opportunity eye candy FTW.”

Lovretta admitted they could not always adhere to all of the rules in the “thick of production,” but they always “tried.” She was not fond of anything “too prurient;” and although she said she wrote with no specific themes in mind, she had a desire to “defend the bisexual community” against what she perceived as negative stereotypes. For this reason, the character of Kenzi (Ksenia Solo) was allowed to state she was straight in the first episode. This was to “represent female friendships that [were] not sexualized,” as well as to counter the “gay panic cliché that bisexual people sexualize everyone.”

This was rare and sympathetic handling for such a character. Awareness of the unique challenges of bisexual representation allowed Bo to be a genuinely complex heroine, instead of just a problematic stereotype. She was carefully crafted to be sex positive, while being defined by her relationships, instead of her sexuality. She was specifically designed to be a good person; such positive representation for bisexual people is important. Research has shown that biphobia, monosexism, and erasure and marginalization are major stressors for bisexual people. They “have higher rates of anxiety, depression, and other mood disorders, compared to heterosexuals, lesbians and gays.”

Lost Girl

But while the lead character was undoubtedly important, Lost Girl did not rely on Bo alone for its bisexual representation. By its final season, the show had a majority queer cast, many of whom were bisexual. Possibly the best example was the flip of an iconic season one villain, Vex, into a bisexual male ally. It not only snagged actor Paul Amos a Canadian Screen Award nomination for his portrayal, but it also gave the show its first main bisexual male character. Female characters tend to have much greater bisexual representation than male characters. Lost Girl was no exception to this stereotype, so the bisexual reveal of Vex was a great improvement. Even better was that the show allowed Vex a happy ending with his love interest during the series finale.

But the show possessed other weaknesses in bisexual representation. There was a failure to cast many actors of color, as well as to avoid the death trope. Lead actor Anna Silk has Turkish-Cyprian-British heritage. But the show had a poor record maintaining its characters of color. While the series killed its straight characters at about twice the rate of its queer characters (which is especially interesting given the preponderance of LGBTQ characters killed on television), it did not spare one of its main bisexual characters from a particularly egregious ending.

With all its strengths and weaknesses, Lost Girl was a defining property for bisexual representation on television. It provided a huge boost in both the quantity and quality of bisexual characters on-screen. It expanded significantly on the ground broken by its two predecessors, Sanctuary and Torchwood, and helped pave the way for the now many more leading bisexual characters found on television series such as Black Sails, Orange Is the New Black, The 100, and more. It remains on the short list of shows that provide happy endings to its queer couples; a short list of shows that even have queer couples in its main cast. It was the first television show I knew of with a heroic lead character in a same-sex relationship, and the first show with a majority queer and majority female main cast on mainstream television. May there be many more to follow.


See also at Bitch Flicks:

Friendship, Fandom, and Female Agency in Lost Girl
How Love Triangles Perpetuate Misogyny

The Problem with LGBT Representation in True Blood and Lost Girl


Laura LaVertu is a writer, caretaker, and TV trope analyzer in the southeastern United States, advocating for diversity in film and on television.

Friendship, Fandom, and Female Agency in ‘Lost Girl’

Supernatural shows and crime shows are a dime a dozen, but something amazing can happen through the fusion of the two. Putting a no-nonsense Action Girl at the center is just icing on the cake for Lost Girl, which has consistently managed to capture lightning in a bottle for four seasons.

Lost Girl logo.
Lost Girl logo.

Written by Erin Tatum.

Supernatural shows and crime shows are a dime a dozen, but something amazing can happen through the fusion of the two. Putting a no-nonsense Action Girl at the center is just icing on the cake for Lost Girl, which has consistently managed to capture lightning in a bottle for four seasons. The show follows Bo (Anna Silk), a succubus, and her human companion, Kenzi (Ksenia Solo), as they unravel the mysteries of the Fae, a secret supernatural society hidden in plain sight. At the beginning, episodes tended to fit the mold of a campy CSI parody. Expect rapidfire snarky one-liners. One of Lost Girl‘s most endearing qualities is its embrace of all things cheesy. Plus, you’ll be treated to countless cameos of every Canadian actor that you’ve seen in anything ever.

Bo doesn't mess around.
Bo doesn’t mess around.

Over time, Bo’s overarching journey to find her identity takes increasing president in the narrative. Torn between the factions of dark and light Fae, she perpetually struggles to retain her independence in a world defined by labels. Drawing obvious parallels to society’s stringent policing of women’s roles, pretty much everyone Bo encounters tries to force her to pick a side or fill her with self-doubt by insisting they know her true nature – evil and manipulative. Her rebellious nature also applies to her sexuality. As a succubus, Bo feeds off sexual chi to survive, meaning that superficial constructions of orientation don’t hold much weight since intimacy is essential. While the idea that a woman literally needs sex to live could inspire a flurry of unfortunate stereotypes with respect to slut shaming and biphobia, no one bats an eye at Bo’s sexual appetites and she has serious romances with both men and women. If anything, her queerness seems to have set off a domino effect of subtle pansexuality in the rest of the cast. Trust me, you won’t find another show with more ambiguous same-sex sexual tension.

Lauren and Dyson hug it out.
Lauren and Dyson hug it out.

Now, it may make you groan to see yet another female protagonist saddled with a love triangle. Lauren (Zoie Palmer), a human doctor, and Dyson (Kris Holden-Reid), a werewolf, vie for Bo’s affections. Their rivalry did feel a little high school-esque for awhile, with many Lauren/Bo fans viewing Dyson as nothing more than a one-dimensional heterosexual love interest for the sake of it (which he kind of is, but to be fair, you can only do so much with the macho personality type). Far more intriguing than Dyson and Lauren’s initial sparring is the budding friendship between the two. Imagine, love interests that don’t have to be defined by antagonism or possessing someone! The fact that Dyson and Lauren discover that they can form a relationship outside of their respective entanglements with Bo is a testament to the writers’ commitment to the characters individually and willingness to explore all types of chemistry, not just romantic.

"Kenzi" flirts with "Bo" (as Dyson).
“Kenzi” flirts with “Bo” (as Dyson).

In keeping with that theme, Lost Girl always finds new terrain to explore, frequently through “alternate universe” episodes where anything goes. There doesn’t appear to be any fandom fantasy that the writers aren’t willing to at least momentarily indulge, particularly with romantic pairings. Sometimes the AUs reach Inception levels of intricacy as a way of nodding to multiple fan bases at once. A recent episode featured Bo traveling through Dyson’s memories via Dyson’s point of view with the caveat that her subconscious would insert people that she knew. As a result, Kenzi flirts with Bo (as Dyson) and Bo has sex with Lauren…as Dyson. Yes, four pairings in one fell swoop. That’s why it’s just plain fun to be a fan of Lost Girl. Fandoms are often maligned by showrunners as rabid, obsessive, and demanding, threatening to destroy coherent narratives by relentlessly pressuring the creative team to cater to their every whim. I’ve been a long-time fan of several shows that I wound up bitterly regretting because the writers develop so much resentment for fan feedback. Lost Girl managed to find a brilliant way to make fans feel heard without derailing story arcs.

Bo and Kenzi.
Bo and Kenzi.

The pièce de résistance of the series is Bo and Kenzi’s friendship, which provides a rare shining example of an unbreakable bond between women. Given that Bo’s love life is constantly in flux, she needs someone to be her rock. Kenzi vocally confirms her heterosexuality in the pilot. At first, I was annoyed that it was such an unnecessary #NOHOMO announcement. In hindsight, immediately designating their relationship as arguably the only dynamic without sexual undertones enables Bo and Kenzi to represent an entirely different sort of love. Each of them will drop everything for the other, including partners. Women are always encouraged to see other women as competition and liabilities, so it’s refreshing to see a friendship with such mutual respect. No matter who they end up paired off with respectively, you get the feeling that they’ll always be in each other’s lives. I think we all need a little reassurance that ultimately, true friends never really leave us.

With any TV show, you’re going to have people complain about declining quality. Lost Girl is no exception. However, I have to give the writers credit for not being afraid to try new things. Each season has fallen into the pattern of having a nebulous mega-villain. That admittedly gets a little stale, but I ultimately stay because the interpersonal relationships are so damn charming. My favorite recurring theme of Lost Girl lies in the simple reminder that relationships are complicated and there’s usually a lot more to them than meets the eye. By refusing to pigeonhole anyone’s characterization, the writers allow the cast to form a group connection that feels organic precisely because they’re so mismatched and fallible. If all else fails, it’s always delightful to watch a fiery succubus kick some ass with good old-fashioned girl power.