Wronging a Right
How Wednesday’s Love Triangle Undermines Its Queer Appeal
Nancy Patel
Sept 2023
On November 23, 2022, Netflix released Wednesday—a comedy horror television show featuring Charles Addams’s character of Wednesday Addams. Within the first week of its release, Wednesday dominated as the English-language series with the most first-week views on Netflix, bringing in 341.2 million hours of watch time. The show has since earned a renewal for its second season, along with multiple accolades for Best Horror Series (Critic’s Choice Super Awards) and Favorite Family TV Show (Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards). Wednesday’s influence has spread further through social media platforms, like TikTok and Instagram, where users discuss their favorite scenes, post themselves doing the Rave’N dance (a dance routine from episode four), and more. Despite its popularity, Wednesday is not without its criticisms. Most prominently, the show capitalizes on the character’s historical connection to the LGBTQ+ community as an aromantic individual but perpetuates romance-focused messaging. Such messaging devalues the character’s other non-romantic relationships and invalidates the broader aromantic experience.
Wednesday Addams first appeared in a 1944 New Yorker cartoon, alongside the rest of the Addams family, including Morticia Addams (her mother), Gomez Addams (her father), and Pugsley Addams (her brother). Together, the Addams Family share macabre interests, like torture, explosives, and carnivorous plants (Sauer). In pre-Wednesday adaptations, Wednesday Addams is non-traditional in every way: she wears non-feminine gothic attire, adores dark and deadpan humor, and dismays hugs or cheerful media. Even when her personality and interests are questioned by society, Wednesday’s sense of self is undeterred: in the 1993 Addams Family Values, for example, Wednesday is sent to Camp Chippewa, where she is forcibly cast into their Thanksgiving camp play as Pocahontas. In spite of the camp counselors’ wishes, Wednesday uses her spotlight as Pocahontas to describe the struggles of Native Americans who would be colonized by pilgrims in the future while the outcast campers set the pilgrims’ tents ablaze. It is her nonconformance that resonates with many members of the LGBTQ+ community who also face societal pressures to conform to binary gender roles and norms. Because Wednesday’s romantic orientation also remains ambiguous throughout the Addams Family lore, with some adaptations even hinting that the character may be aromantic, Wednesday Addams has become a symbol of resistance and self-expression for the LGBTQ+ community—a connection that Netflix deliberately exploits to garner more viewers.
On November 9, 2022, Netflix hosted “WednesGay”—a party featuring alumni from RuPaul’s Drag Race—in anticipation of Wednesday’s release. When asked why they thought Wednesday Addams was a queer icon, Crystal Method, one of the drag queens at the event, explains that Wednesday “is a queer icon because, at her core, she revels in being an outsider...Instead of being shamed by the differences between her family’s way of life and that of society at large, she embraces what makes her different. She stands up for marginalized groups and faces bullies with an unflinching calm that any queer would be proud to emulate” (Reynolds). Hosting WednesGay magnifies Netflix’s shortcomings twofold. Firstly, WednesGay’s marketing toward an LGBTQ+ audience suggests that the show would also provide queer representation for the community. Secondly, the event’s focus on Wednesday Addams hinted at queer representation via her specific character—a justifiable claim based on previous iterations of the character. Neither of these implications, however, are fulfilled in the show’s first season.
Wednesday maintains the macabre essence of the Addams family, introducing its titular character as an outsider, alienated from her peers. After releasing piranhas into a pool occupied by swimmers who had bullied her brother, Wednesday is expelled from her high school and sent to Nevermore Academy, a boarding school for outcasts. Because of her mother and father’s popularity as past Nevermore students, Wednesday does not want to attend Nevermore and live under their shadow. During episode one, Morticia hopes Wednesday “finds [Nevermore] as life-changing as [she] did,” but Wednesday explicitly says that “I’m not you, Mother. I will never fall in love, or be a housewife, or have a family.” This quote demonstrates Wednesday’s initial disinterest in romance which is repeatedly reinforced in the series (especially in episodes four and seven when she declines to go on dates with her two love interests). Hence, many LGBTQ+ members regard the character as aromantic—someone who experiences “little to no romantic attraction” (Brandley 1).
Despite aromantics being a part of the LGBTQ+ community, communication scholars Ben Brandley and Marco Dehnert point out that “those who are on the…aromantic spectrum are rarely centered in communication…[In] a recent review of journals published by the National Communication Association…none of the articles in their dataset were dedicated to [aromantic] identities or experiences” (Brandley 2). Misconceptions about and cultural stereotyping against aromantics further invalidate their experiences: for example, Brandley and Dehnert highlight how aromanticism is commonly mistaken for asexuality—“a spectrum of sexual orientations involving little to no sexual attraction”—and emphasize that “romantic and sexual attraction are separate phenomena that may or may not overlap” (Brandley 3). To assume that aromantics are identical to asexuals implies that romance and sex are equivalent, which is a mistaken assumption. This flawed assumption undermines the aromantic identity, which is focused solely on romantic, not sexual, orientation. Furthermore, Brandley and Dehnert inspect how the labeling of aromantics as “monsters,” “aliens,” and “robots” otherize them. The label “alien,” for example, depicts aromantics as lacking the understanding of sexuo-romantic culture, while “monster” and “robot” capture perceived heartlessness (the “robot,” however, is “simply not ‘programmed’ for emotion” which refers to past medical research in which aromanticism was conflated with clinical diseases, like hyposexual desire disorder) (Brandley 19). Because aromantics are typecast as inhumane for lacking romantic attraction, these stereotypes perpetuate amatonormativity, which feminist philosopher Elizabeth Brake defines as “the concept that a central, exclusive, amorous relationship is normal for humans, in that it is a universally shared goal, and that such a relationship is normative, in that it should be aimed at in preference to other relationship types…[This] assumption…devalues friendships and other caring relationships” (Brake 89).
Moreover, amatonormativity also manifests as societal discrimination against aromantics. Institutionalized marriage, for example, discounts the aromantic experience by providing only financial benefits to those who pursue romantic relationships. According to a 2020 census for aromantics, over 89.3% of aromantics were not in a romantic partnership; 10.6% of aromantics were in a non-romantic partnership (e.g. cohabitating partnership) (“The Aro Census”). Even for the aromantics who form cohabitating partnerships or friendships, however, society's infatuation with love (particularly through marriage) promotes non-institutionalized discrimination as well: a study conducted by Wendy Morris, professor of psychology at McDaniel College and expert in the stigmatization of singles, examines how rental agents treat pairs of people (with similar profiles) differently based on their relationship status. Over four experiments comparing married couples to single women/men or cohabiting partners/opposite-sex friends, the married couple was selected most frequently (70% against the single women/men, 61-80% against cohabiting couples/opposite-sex friends) for rental property. When asked for their rationale, the most prevalent explanation for choosing the married couple was “simply [that] the married couple was married” (Morris et al. 459-465). Thus, depicting Wednesday Addams—a plausible queer character who maintains her disinterest in romance—in this new series as aromantic had the potential to amplify the representation of an intersectional and regularly erased group.
As the series unfolds, it also establishes Wednesday’s strong sense of self. When visiting her father in episode five, for instance, Wednesday tells him: “You taught me how to be strong and independent, how to navigate myself in a world full of treachery and prejudice. You are the reason that I understand how imperative it is that I never lose sight of myself.” Given this sense of self, Wednesday is capable of understanding her own romantic orientation in spite of her youth. As a result, writing the self-confident young woman who has firmly expressed her aromanticism into a love triangle later in the series invalidates her identity (and the experiences of the broader aromantic audience) and perpetuates amatonormativity. A love triangle, as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary, is “a state of affairs in which one person is romantically or sexually involved with two others.” One purpose of this trope’s use in media is to confuse the protagonist—typically a woman—by placing them in a whiplash between two potential love interests. In a story based on the self-assured, independent, and outspoken Wednesday Addams, however, this technique only serves to demean the character. Instead of delving further into the character’s personal development as she navigates a tumultuous mother-daughter relationship, acclimates into a new environment, and attempts to form friendships for the first time, the show prioritizes an unconvincing love triangle between Wednesday, Tyler Galpin, and Xavier Thorpe.
Wednesday’s first interaction with Tyler Galpin is at a coffee shop in the local town, Jericho, as she tries to escape from Nevermore. She orders a quad over ice but the barista—Tyler—tells her the espresso machine is broken. Intent on her coffee, Wednesday fixes the machine and asks Tyler if there are any taxis or trains leaving the town. In response, Tyler offers to drive Wednesday to the nearest train station after his shift is over, which she reluctantly agrees to since it is her only means of escape. During their conversation, Wednesday expresses no interest in Tyler, except when it suits her escape plan. This trend continues throughout the series, even after she decides to remain at Nevermore and pursue a murder mystery in Jericho. In episode six, for example, Tyler asks Wednesday if she would be interested in a “non-birthday, song-free dinner” and, initially, she declines. Later in the episode, however, she accepts his offer in order to use his car to investigate a lead for the murder mystery. Tyler even acknowledges Wednesday’s disinterest in episode seven, stating that “For the record, Wednesday was trying to keep her distance. I was the one that sat down with her.”
Similarly, Wednesday’s interactions with her second love interest, Xavier Thorpe, are minimal and romantically one-sided. In episode one, for example, Xavier tackles Wednesday out of the way of a falling gargoyle. When she wakes up in the hospital, however, Wednesday is hostile toward Xavier for saving her: “you were guided by latent chivalry, the tool of the patriarchy, to extract my undying gratitude?” Later, at Jericho’s harvest festival, Wednesday expertly wins a stuffed animal panda in a dart-throwing game. Xavier approaches Wednesday after her win and remarks, “Jeez, [if] you get any better at this, you’ll be taking home a whole pack.” Wednesday’s response is that “Pandas don’t travel in packs, they prefer solitude,” tacitly apprising Xavier to leave her alone. Wednesday’s interactions with Xavier are also transactional, like in episode four when she is caught sneaking into Xavier’s private art studio and is “forced to ask [Xavier to Nevermore’s school dance] as an act of self-preservation.” These interactions emphasize that Wednesday has no intention of romantically pursuing the men.
Although Wednesday’s interactions with Tyler and Xavier are primarily transactional, there is a scene in episode seven, where Wednesday initiates a kiss with Tyler, which is commonly cited as evidence of their mutual romantic interest. However, as noted previously, aromanticism provides the space for Wednesday to kiss Tyler out of sexual desire, since a lack of romantic attraction does not imply a lack of sexual attraction. In other words, an aromantic individual’s identity is not negated by sexual acts, like kissing, because of the distinction between romance versus sex. Moreover, Wednesday’s analytical and inquisitive nature shapes this kiss: in the series, Wednesday is portrayed as an accomplished student who is determined to unravel mysteries. In episode five, for instance, she investigates the accusation that her father murdered a man during his time at Nevermore, only to discover that the victim was actually killed by nightshade poison. The show consistently reinforces her inquisitiveness, suggesting that Wednesday’s kiss with Tyler may have been motivated by curiosity rather than infatuation. In other words, she may have been interested in exploring what would happen if she kissed Tyler, rather than experiencing a desire to kiss him out of romantic attraction. This is evidenced in the kiss scene as Wednesday maintains her deadpan facial expression while approaching Tyler, instead of smiling, and is the first to pull away from their kiss. Although sexual curiosity is a logical interpretation of this scene, the scene is framed through the lens of romance. The cinematography, for instance, uses low-key orange lighting to establish a warm, intimate setting and the underscore uses soft and slow piano music to contribute to the romantic mood. While during most scenes Wednesday lacks romantic interest in Tyler, the kiss scene is painted romantically. Interpreting the kiss scene as romantic, however, only underscores illogical storytelling: despite Wednesday’s explicit aromanticism, Netflix shoehorns the character into a romantic arc.
The series’ focus on a romantic arc also diverts attention from where Wednesday truly shines: her friendships. After arriving at Nevermore, Wednesday is warmly greeted by her roommate, Enid, who reaches for a hug (though Wednesday refuses) and takes her on a tour of the school. As the series progresses, Wednesday gradually displays genuine emotions during her interactions with Enid. In episode two, for instance, Wednesday offers to help Enid win the Poe Cup—Nevermore’s annual race—after Enid’s co-pilot falls ill. Their friendship, however, veers in episode six, when Enid surprises Wednesday with a birthday party. At the party, Wednesday has a psychic vision that reveals another clue about the town’s murder mystery. Resolute on solving the mystery, Wednesday deceives Enid and Tyler into investigating the lead, an abandoned mansion, under the guise of a girls’ night out and a date, respectively. There, they confront a monster that attacks Tyler and chases Wednesday and Enid, who narrowly escape. Upset and traumatized, Enid moves out of their shared room, asserting that “You’ll use anyone to get what you want, even if it means putting them in danger. We could’ve died because of your stupid obsession.” Wednesday realizes that “for the first time in [her] life, [being alone] doesn’t feel good,” which showcases her growing appreciation of friendship. When Enid returns to their shared room in episode seven, Wednesday tells her to “skip the tape” that divides their room in half, exhibiting her emotional growth as she no longer wants to separate herself from others. The duo’s friendship strengthens in the final episode when Wednesday is kidnapped by Laurel Gates, a teacher at Nevermore who is responsible for the murders, and Enid searches for her. At the beginning of the series, it is established that Enid is a werewolf who is unable to “wolf out”—in the final episode, however, Enid turns into a werewolf for the first time in order to protect Wednesday from a monster controlled by Laurel. Following Enid’s defeat of the monster, they reunite amidst the crowd of students in the forest. Enid rushes towards Wednesday, and they share a hug—an act that Wednesday had previously been opposed to. The cinematography also concentrates on Wednesday’s eyes, which close during their hug. This also exposes her self-growth and friendship with Enid, as she refrains from blinking during most of the show.
Wednesday’s emotional palette is explored further through her friendship with Eugene Ottinger, another student at Nevermore Academy. In episode two, Wednesday notices three bullies trying to put Eugene in a pillory, but she intervenes and stops them from carrying out the act. This act earns Wednesday Eugene’s gratitude and the two gradually become friends. In episode four, Wednesday and Eugene plan to investigate the town’s murder mystery on the night of the school’s Rave’N dance. Last minute, however, Wednesday is coerced into attending the dance, and Eugene chooses to investigate the mystery by himself. During his investigation, Eugene is attacked by a monster and is hospitalized. In episodes five through seven, Wednesday frequently visits Eugene at the hospital and takes care of his beekeeping apiary: “I harvested hive number three. The bees miss you, Eugene. We all do…He didn’t deserve this.” None of these scenes are framed romantically, yet they are charged with emotion. Although Wednesday, like many aromantics, is labeled as cold or heartless because she does not display romantic emotional reactions, her scenes with Enid and Eugene indicate that she is capable of feeling and expressing genuine emotions toward her friends. Because of her macabre interests, coupled with her aromantic traits, there also exists speculation that Wednesday has a developmental disorder, like autism. Kevin Rebecchi, an expert in psychology and neurodiversity, discusses such speculation in his paper “Is Tim Burton’s Wednesday Addams Autistic?” where he uses common diagnostic criteria to determine if Wednesday falls on the autism spectrum. Analyzing traits that support a diagnosis like “an inadequacy of emotional reactions” but also traits that oppose a diagnosis like “great variability in mood,” Rebecchi concludes that Wednesday does not fall on the autism spectrum, explaining that “a person can have certain personality traits (she is honest, cold, speaks monotonously, authentic, etc.) and be totally ‘normal’ and outside the pathological spectrum” (Rebecchi 14). Once again, such speculation implies that aromanticism is a psychological disorder rather than a legitimate romantic orientation. Labels like autistic, heartless, or cold also simplify the nuanced emotional breadth that Wednesday experiences, particularly through her friendships with Enid and Eugene.
The imbalance between romantic love and friendship in Wednesday is thus ineffective for its first season fourfold. Firstly, Wednesday is historically heralded as a queer icon because of her ambiguous romantic orientation. Placing her into a heterosexual love triangle, thus, alienates much of the show’s targeted LGBTQ+ audience. Secondly, Wednesday establishes its protagonist as introspective and self-assured; her clear and repeated disinterest in romance is therefore not an underdeveloped or thoughtless intention. Hence, a heterosexual love triangle not only invalidates the character’s aromanticism but also the broader aromantic experience, an experience that is often erased in research and media. Thirdly, the show’s love triangle features forced and unconvincing romantic connections with Tyler and Xavier, who both mistake Wednesday’s manipulation for interest and vie for her affection. Wednesday’s plain aromanticism and Xavier and Tyler’s unconvincing romantic relationships embody amatonormative messaging: amorous relationships should be prioritized, even if those relationships are not founded on mutual interest. Fourthly, the most touching moments in Wednesday are the product of friendship, not romantic love. Wednesday behaves uncharacteristically (but believably) when it concerns her friends like Enid. From loathing hugs to hugging Enid in the finale, the show highlights Wednesday’s potential for emotional (distinct from romantic) self-growth but does not explore it thoroughly because of the time devoted to the love triangle.