Not every character in the world needs to be LGBT. (That’d be nice, though.) The issue isn’t just that there are no queer characters on so many beloved and critically acclaimed shows — the issue is that most characters aren’t given the opportunity to be anything other than straight or straight-passing. Even female characters on TV who are actually allowed to be full-out, openly queer are overwhelmingly feminine: Emily and her various love interests on Pretty Little Liars; Clarke and her various love interests on The 100; basically everyone on The L Word (Shane’s the one sort-of exception, and she wears a ton of makeup). Lea DeLaria as Boo on Orange Is The New Black is one of the only true butches on television today. If a female character is going to be into women, she at least has to “look straight” so her queerness isn’t too much of an aberration. When characters we’re supposed to root for step outside the bounds of heteronormativity, so often they’re forcefully shoved back into place.



But Eleven is a kid. We don’t know her sexual orientation and we don’t need to. Yet the Duffer brothers felt compelled to give her a makeover and stick her with a boy. (She might have grown up to be with both boys and girls, of course, or no one at all, but in our culture girls are presumed straight unless proven otherwise; even then, they’re belittled and disbelieved.) No matter her orientation, Eleven simply doesn't deserve to be reduced to a romantic plotline with anyone. Even though Winona Ryder made a triumphant comeback as Will’s mom, even though Natalia Dyer’s Nancy can (wow!) shoot a gun pretty well, and even though #WeAreAllBarb, Stranger Things exists squarely in a boy’s universe. And according to the laws of pop culture, boys still get to complete their heroic quest and win the girl.

Another huge hit of the summer, Paul Feig’s Ghostbusters, has been widely celebrated precisely because the female characters aren’t winnable. They exist in their own right, as fucking badasses who save the world, instead of prizes for male protagonists’ consumption. It’s an exciting thing primarily because women deserve to be the heroes of their own stories. But keeping all the female characters unattached also means that Ghostbusters doesn’t blanket enforce heteronormativity. Kristen Wiig’s Erin gets awkwardly flirty with Chris Hemsworth’s Kevin, but Melissa McCarthy as Abby is far more concerned about her friendship with Erin (and catching ghosts) than expressing romantic interest in anyone. Meanwhile, Kate McKinnon’s Holtzmann seduces everything that moves (notably, in a way that doesn’t simply perform for the male gaze). Ask any lesbian and she’ll tell you that McKinnon’s character is so obviously queer that they left the Ghostbusters theater even gayer than when they walked in. Both Feig and McKinnon won’t confirm Holtzmann’s sexuality, likely due to studio pressure, which is maddening in its own way. But at the very least, Holtzmann — who is far from the most feminine person in the world, in her neckties and whimsical overalls — isn’t punished for her masculinity, or saddled up with a random dude.

Holtzmann’s rise comes one year after another female character was afforded similarly refreshing, and rare, freedoms: Charlize Theron’s Furiosa in Mad Max: Fury Road. After Millie Bobby Brown, the actor who plays Eleven, shaved her head for the role, she was worried she’d made a big mistake — until the Duffer brothers showed her a picture of Furiosa rocking the same cut. “The resemblance was amazing!” she told IndieWire. “It was the best decision I've ever, ever made.”

The more we see women and girls embracing nontraditional gender presentations, the less vilified those presentations will become. Characters like Furiosa and Holtzmann represent the possibility that a woman could be masculine, or queer, or unattached, or some combination of the three without being forcibly feminized, given a boyfriend, or branded a monster. Stranger Things could have easily allowed Eleven to forge meaningful friendships and kick monster ass without preoccupying her with fears about prettiness. Some tropes of the '80 really aren't worth reviving — the Classic Makeover Montage is one of them.