Celebrate Pride with titles that explore a vast spectrum of queer experiences and emotions throughout history, genres, movements, and beyond.
It’s that time of year again: pride month. Two words, a whole lot of history and meaning. From hidden narratives we may never know, to the life-changing Stonewall Riots, the queer community has come a long way—yet their mission to be seen, heard, and treated with respect is one that continues today.
Members of the community understand that immersing themselves in queer stories is a way of celebrating identity and connecting with familiar voices. Or as writer James Baldwin once wrote: “You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.” For allies, interacting with queer media can help cultivate a broader, more nuanced understanding of members of the LGBT+ community.
We’ll help you get started; while in no way comprehensive, we present our line-up of eclectic and hopefully enjoyable Pride picks, arranged into categories to suit your mood and preferences (perfect for weekend or after-work marathons).
READ ALSO: In Delia D., All The Glitter Is Not Gold (But The Spectacle Sure Is Fun)
Feel Good Vibes For Everyone!
For the longest time, “happy endings” weren’t often associated with the LGBT+ community—let alone in public, mainstream media. But times have (thankfully) changed: queer people can feel love and joy without being defined by great tragedies.
Saving Face (2004)
As early as 2004, Chinese-American filmmaker Alice Wu created what’s probably one of the best sapphic romantic comedies in cinema history. Jazzy rom-com score? Check. Two Asian leading women? Check. A refreshingly happy ending? Check. A story about the complexities of a mother-daughter relationship, paired with taboo-breaking twists that were way ahead of their time? Check and check.
Dr. Wilhelmina “Wil” Pang (Michelle Krusiec) is a successful surgeon, but also a closeted lesbian who falls for ballet dancer Vivian (Lynn Chen). Romance ensues, though she doesn’t tell her widowed mom Hwei-Lan (Joan Chen) anything about it. That’s fine, because mom has a secret of her own—shenanigans (and a touch of lighthearted drama) abound as Wil, Hwei-Lan, and Vivian come to terms with what it means to live authentically and happily without succumbing to the pressures of society.
Kiss Her Once for Me by Alison Cochrun
Romance novel Kiss Her Once for Me has everything you could possibly want for those indulgent, “guilty-pleasure” Hallmark movies: a meet-cute, fake dating, and a sweet holiday setup that ties everything together—but sprinkle in queer love interests.
Down on her luck financially and emotionally, coffee shop worker Ellie Oliver makes a shocking, drunken agreement with the shop’s landlord Andrew: marry him so he can finally receive his inheritance, and she’ll never have to worry about money again. The only catch? When he takes her to meet his family, it turns out his sister is the woman she fell head over heels for on one Christmas Eve—and now she needs to face what she really wants as her past and future clash.
Fire Island (2022)
Andrew Ahn’s Fire Island is loosely based on Jane Austen’s timeless Pride and Prejudice, so what’s not to love? A Bennett-esque found family of five gay men and their lesbian friend gather to spend one more summer in Fire Island Pines—their annual destination for all things fun.
It’s here where Noah (Joel Kim Booster) meets the rich, kinda snooty and hard-to-read lawyer Will (Conrad Ricamora) and his equally-wealthy pals (sound familiar?). The chemistry is palpable between the two leads, while the set-up features just the right amount of relatable and contemporary camp that culminates in an overall good time.
Anything’s Possible (2022)
If you count the number of coming-of-age romantic comedies starring a transgender main character (who also happens to be a person of color) well…you’d probably only need one hand. But that’s why Billy Porter’s Anything’s Possible fills a very specific, valuable niche. Kelsa (Eva Reign) is a regular high school student who, after one fateful art class, develops a crush on her classmate Khal—and the feeling is mutual.
But since it’s high school, things aren’t as easy as they seem, especially when her best friend Em also has a crush on the same guy. Will Kelsa get her fairytale ending? You’ll have to watch to find out, but the journey there is—save for a bit of drama—a sweet boy-meets-girl ride that offers some much-needed romance and levity in today’s current climate.
Rookie (2023)
Sports: rife with athletic feats, camaraderie…and romance? Filipino filmmaker Samantha Lee returns with another amazing queer film, Rookie. It centers on Ace (Pat Tingjuy), a timid transferee student at an all-girl’s Catholic school who’s invited to join its volleyball team.
While Ace often feels like a fish out of water, her time spent with the team’s captain Jana (played by Aya Fernandez) opens her up to new possibilities as the two fall in love. What Lee never fails to do is somehow capture the energy, vibrancy, and complexities of budding queer love in the Philippines, and her recent film is no exception to this.
Gaya Sa Pelikula (web series, 2020)
Gaya sa Pelikula transcends the typical BL narrative, offering a poignant and authentic exploration of queer identity through a Filipino bildungsroman. 19-year-old architecture student Karl (Paolo Pangilinan), lives in his own condominium unit and is trying to make ends meet by writing for clients; meanwhile, his annoying neighbor Vlad (Ian Pangilinan) needs a place to escape his family troubles, and asks to share the condominium with Karl and split the bills—they, of course, come to get to know each other better and fall in love in the process.
The series masterfully weaves classic rom-com tropes with timely social commentary, subtly challenging microaggressions and advocating for genuine representation, making it a vital and impactful cultural statement, not just a cute love story.
The Underrated Period Pieces
Here are some hidden gems that give viewers everything they love about romantic period dramas: stolen touches and glances, eloquent expressions of love, well-earned passion, and of course, that thick air of tension you can cut with a knife.
Gentleman Jack (TV series, 2019-2022)
Based on the true story of queer 19th-century landowner, businesswoman, and diarist Anne Lister, Gentleman Jack is a sapphic period drama dream, rendered perfectly through the performance of leading lady (or shall we say “gentleman”) Suranne Jones. Lister is bold, intelligent, charismatic, and always in her signature suited attire, doing whatever she can to save her family’s crumbling ancestral estate—and part of that is marrying well, though she doesn’t intend to marry a man.
It’s fascinating to see her take the lead in these entrepreneurial and diplomatic endeavors, even more so when paired with the unabashed, sensual depictions of her dalliances with women. A tender love story between Lister and her would-be wife Ann Walker, however, serves as the grounding centerpiece of this trailblazing story.
Colette (2018)
Another period drama based on an actual person, Colette is a dramatized retelling of the life of French writer and actress Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette. The role stars none other than the queen of period dramas herself, Keira Knightley, who kills it as always. Born in the countryside, she meets the wealthy (and far older) man of libertine sensibilities, Henry Gauthier-Villars (Dominic West), simply known as “Willy.”
An editor and writer, he becomes smitten with Colette, taking her to the city as his bride: things are happy, for a while, until he discovers her talent for writing (and she witnesses his many infidelities). Their marriage quickly grows into an abusive one as he exploits her stories without credit. There’s a beautiful romance between Colette and the queer, crossdressing aristocrat Mathilde “Missy” de Morny (Denise Gough)—whom she finds comfort in amid her crumbling domestic relationship—but the writer’s story is ultimately one about bravely fighting for creative and personal freedom.
Maurice (1987)
Writer E.M. Forster made history with his 1971 novel Maurice. The book is one of the few early works of English literature that candidly explored queerness and gave its gay protagonist a happy ending—something incredibly controversial in an England where homosexuality was criminalized. While the novel was written much earlier, it wasn’t safe to publish until after homosexuality was legalized in 1967. In the same vein, its gorgeous 1987 fit, adaptation was a risky move amid the fear and stigma of the AIDs crisis, but it’s one viewers are incredibly thankful for.
The story centers on the school days and early adulthood of its titular character Maurice Hall (James Wilby), as he falls for his fellow student, the dashing and outspoken Clive Durham (Hugh Grant). A brief albeit passionate relationship blossoms, but the repressive systems of Edwardian England get in the way. Maurice later finds love in an unexpected place, and must decide on how he’ll live his life— “correctly” but unhappy, or defiantly and in the arms of the man he loves. With stunning cinematography, a memorable screenplay, and stellar performances, it won’t disappoint.
Dark, Twisted, Spooky Fun
For the thriller and horror junkies out there who can’t resist a supernatural tale, we’ve got you.
The Handmaiden (2016)
Many know director Park Chan-wook for his 2003 cult classic Oldboy, but his 2016 film The Handmaiden is also worth a watch if you’re searching for a sapphic story that, despite its biting and twisted darkness, manages to end on a hopeful note. The entire movie plays like an eerie, uncanny fever dream through the chilling actions of its antagonists and the gothic perverseness of the large estate that serves as its backdrop.
Set during the Japanese occupation of Korea, the film follows two women: maid and former pickpocket Sook-hee (Kim Tae-ri), and Japanese heiress Lady Hideko (Kim Min-hee). They find themselves at the center of a plot to steal Hideko’s inheritance, orchestrated by a conman disguising himself as a count (Ha Jung-woo) and made worse by the abusive acts of her Uncle Kouzuki (Cho Jin-woong). Filled with lush imagery and macabre twists, the film is a visual feast, and also a tale of two women who find personal autonomy through their love for each other.
Interview with the Vampire (series, 2022)
The newest iteration of Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire (part of her Vampire Chronicles series) manages to take all the homoeroticism of the 1994 version with Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, and somehow make it even gayer. We’re talking very overtly, no-room-for-subtext queer, but we’re not complaining. This adaptation follows the spirit of its source material, with some twists here and there: a vampire agrees to be interviewed by a journalist and recounts his life before and after being transformed, including the experiences he shared with the vampire who made him what he is.
Actors Sam Reid and Jacob Anderson are fully committed to their roles, and clearly seem to be having as much fun as we are watching them transform into this generation’s Lestat du Lioncourt and Louis de Pointe du Lac, respectively. Expect all the toxic co-dependence and jealousy you witnessed in its predecessor, times ten. Sounds fun? It’s definitely something to sink your teeth into.
Carmilla by Sheridan le Fanu
More vampire mayhem, this time sapphic with Joseph Sheridan le Fanu’s Carmilla. Fun fact: it pre-dates Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula, having been published in 1872 (scholars say it even served as an inspiration for the Irish writer). Though it’s over a century old, something about the story still feels contemporary, le Fanu’s writing poetic yet accessible.
It helps that Carmilla is more like a novella, short enough to binge in a day as it narrates the story of a young woman’s growing attraction and relationship with the magnetic aristocrat Carmilla—who, surprise surprise, is not exactly who she claims to be. For a product of its time, it’s surprisingly comfortable in its sensuality; an exemplary work of gothic horror that tackles desire and taboo with aplomb.
The Haunting of Bly Manor (series, 2020)
Mike Flanagan is arguably one of the most innovative and brilliant voices in the horror genre today. More than jumpscares and effects (which he manages to pull off exceptionally) his stories focus on the real fears and complicated dynamics that fill our everyday lives, the conflicts of his characters enhancing the supernatural elements of his stories.
A creative mixture loosely based on several short stories of the writer Henry James, The Haunting of Bly Manor is modern gothic in its finest form. A young woman, Danielle “Dani” Clayton (Victoria Pedretti), is hired as an au pair for two orphaned children by their distant uncle. She comes to live with them in the deteriorating Bly estate, which has more than its fair share of ghosts, each with their own story, and none as haunting as the mysterious Lady of the Lake. The beating heart of the series is Dani’s relationship with gruff gardener Jamie Taylor (Amelia Eve): a bittersweet love story that seamlessly connects to the series’s horror plotline, and one that’ll stay with you long after the final episode’s last, memorable scene plays out.
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Dorian Grey has a cursed (or blessed, depending on how you look at it) portrait of himself that appears to grow older as he continues to remain young—a creepy, tantalizing premise made even richer through the man’s homoerotic relationships with artist Basil Hallward and Lord Henry Wotton. There’s nothing too overt in Oscar Wilde’s classic novel (remember, it was 1890s UK), but all the subtext is there (so much so that parts of the original manuscript were initially censored in publication).
Darkly entertaining, it’s a fairly easy and rewarding classic to read thanks to how Wilde deftly grapples with themes like the politics of beauty and desire, society’s obsession with youth, and the corrupting power of vanity.
Maybe I *Want* To Cry!
Okay we hear you, sometimes you’re in the mood for queer media that’ll make you bawl your eyes out, and that’s fine—cathartic, even.
All of Us Strangers (2023)
All of Us Strangers is a movie that grabs your heart, squeezes it, and refuses to let go until the very end—maybe even beyond that.
Adam, a lonely scriptwriter (Andrew Scott), spends most of his days cooped up in his apartment, attempting to write a new family drama set in the 1980s. His equally lonely neighbor Harry (Paul Mescal), approaches him one night: drunk and asking for a good time. The two hit it off, forming a relationship that unravels the walls Adam set up, revealing his vulnerabilities and disrupting the regularity of his life. Yet his growing love for Harry is interspersed with the fantastical: frequent visits to his childhood home, where somehow, he manages to have conversations with his parents who tragically died just before he turned twelve.
The film explores how the stories we tell ourselves can be both a source of harm and liberation. Those who have felt loneliness, or experienced the loss of a parent—really anyone they wished they had more time with—will find themselves crying in more than a few scenes. With its illusory, haunting urban atmosphere, and spectacular performances (particularly from Scott), All of Us Strangers will have you thinking about its story for a long time.
The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller
The Song of Achilles is classicist and writer Madeline Miller’s hit re-telling of Homer’s Greek epic, The Iliad. It breathes new life into the events of the Trojan War, with an intimate focus on its hero Achilles and his lover Patroclus—and that’s exactly why it works so well, and how it managed to elicit tears from a new generation of readers since it was first published in 2011.
Told with Miller’s lyrical prose, The Song of Achilles feels fresh and accessible while staying true to the spirit of its source material, adding an extra layer of depth by rendering Achilles and Patroclus’s friendship, then eventual romance, in startling and vibrant detail. Just beware: the story doesn’t end on a happy note, but Miller does infuse it with a gorgeous take of her own.
Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
In 1770 France, somewhere on an isolated island, reluctant bride-to-be Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) is having her wedding portrait done by another woman, an artist by the name Marianne (Noémie Merlant). Shy and unable to bring herself to pose properly, Héloïse leaves Marianne no choice but to observe her in increments: through glances and fragments of time spent together, which soon evolve into a soaring love story.
But like the great star-crossed romance that it is, Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire keeps our protagonists at a distance, even when they ache to be together—and even when they are physically together. Desire and yearning distilled into a two-hour picture, its poetic shots; allusions to the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice; tense, captivating score; and well-executed script with an unforgettable conclusion will leave you either breathless, crying, or both.
Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin
James Baldwin was a singular literary talent who, evident in his writing, understood the human condition like no other and was capable of crystallizing it into incisive, musical sentences that never missed a beat. His book Giovanni’s Room might not make you cry, but it’ll likely burn a gaping hole into your heart and render you glassy-eyed.
Taking place in France, the story follows American expatriate David as he begins a romance with Giovanni, an Italian bartender. While David’s fiance Hella roams Spain, he grapples with his sexuality, battling the internalized homophobia he’s carried with him for much of his life. Most of the events take place in Giovanni’s room, and even when they don’t, they return to it: a claustrophobic space that changes as the two men’s relationship shifts, filled with sorrow, passion, and joy. It’s not a traditional love story, reading more like a cautionary tale about the happiness and peace you stand to lose when you refuse to accept who you are.
Your Name Engraved Herein (2020)
Your Name Engraved Herein is a Taiwanese romantic drama set in 1987, during the lifting of martial law within the country. It depicts the forbidden love between two male students, A-Han (Edward Chen) and Birdy (Tseng Jing-hua), at a Catholic boarding school.
Their intense connection is tested by the homophobia that runs rampant in their society—as well as their personal choices—resulting in a heartbreaking yet necessary exploration of first love and the struggles of the queer community in Taiwan’s journey towards greater rights.
Celebrating Lived Experiences
Outside of fiction and dramatizations are the real stories that inspire and inform them, preserved so present and future generations never forget how far the community has come, even if there’s still work to be done.
Paris is Burning (1990)
Jennie Livingston’s Paris is Burning remains a touchstone documentary on New York City’s ball culture: a collective of queer, societal outcasts who band together to create art through their performances.
Besides exploring subcultures of the scene’s African-American and Latino communities, the documentary also perfectly captures the 1980s bygone Golden Age of drag in full color and detail. Testament to this was the film’s addition to the US National Film Registry in 2016, having been deemed by the Library of Congress as “culturally, historically or aesthetically” important.
The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson (2017)
The name “Marsha P. Johnson” remains a fixture in queer history, referring to the drag queen and activist who played a crucial role in the beginning of the Stonewall Riots: protests of the queer community against the violence and discrimination they experienced under the hands of authorities, a call to action for equality and better rights that sparked the modern, global LGBT+ movement.
Sadly, despite all the good she did, Johnson was found dead in the Hudson River in July 1992—police immediately ruled it as a suicide, but loved ones and members of the community who knew her suspected foul play. More than paying tribute to her legacy, the documentary searches for the truth behind her cold case, linking it to the hundreds of violent acts and murders committed against the transgender community throughout the years, and the long road to justice—not just for Johnson, but for every other person like her who constantly needs to prove they’re deserving of dignity and respect.
Before Stonewall (1984)
How did members of the queer community live before the Stonewall Riots? This is the question posed and explored by 1984’s Before Stonewall: through interviews and archival footage, it pieces together the quiet histories of LGBT+ individuals who lived in hiding for most of their existence or found other ways to live freely given the political climate of their times. It’s a fascinating, anthropological examination of a community’s progress and evolution, and one that leaves you feeling thankful about how far society has come, despite everything.
Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg
Stone Butch Blues is a book that avoids simple, neat classification: it’s an autobiography, novel, gender studies piece, and many other things rolled into one. Not the lightest read (with its unflinching depictions of gender-based violence), but if you’re up for it, it’s an enlightening, intersectional work.
Chronicling the homophobia, transphobia, classism, and anti-semitism that its author Leslie Feinberg experienced throughout her life, the book is told through the perspective of fictional character Jess Goldberg, the titular stone butch lesbian. Like Paris is Burning, it captures the spirit of a particular zeitgeist, in this case 20th century New York starting from the 1940s and stretching past the Stonewall Riots. Though its protagonist goes through her fair share of hardships and relationships, the story is one that ends on a hopeful, reflective note. Its narrative of queer lives and histories makes it an essential read both within and outside of the LGBT+ community.
