Streaming Queer Content: LGBTQ Media on BVOD and SVOD Services in Australia

Abstract

This article analyzes the strategies through which Broadcast Video on Demand (BVOD) and Subscription Video on Demand (SVOD) services make queer titles available and discoverable to users. While streaming video services operate globally and the issue of LGBTQ inclusion is not solely a national one, Australia’s complex history of LGBTQ representation in film and television offers a unique context to explore these issues. This article asks: How is queer content categorized and promoted on BVOD and SVOD services in Australia? How easily discovered is this content? And how does this impact the visibility and inclusion of LGBTQ identities within the Australian screen media landscape? Drawing on critical librarianship and catalog analysis, this article reveals discrepancies between curated categories and search results, the failure of search tools to recognize language associated with LGBTQ identities, and the obscuring of queer content within streaming video libraries.

Introduction

Broadcast Video on Demand (BVOD) and Subscription Video on Demand (SVOD) have dramatically altered the screen landscape and the experiences of viewers. It is now easier than ever to access a wide range of diverse media. However, it can be difficult to find specific content within the vast libraries of streaming video platforms. This is particularly true for queer ¹ content, which is not always easily categorized and can be at risk of invisibility within BVOD and SVOD catalogs. This can reinforce existing inequalities and amplify the exclusionary politics of screen media industries, contributing to the invisibility of LGBTQ identities and communities in the media landscape. To date, research into streaming video catalogs has examined issues of local versus imported content, new-release versus back-catalog content, original versus licensed content (Afilipoaie et al. 2021; Aguiar and Waldfogel 2018; Albornoz and García Leiva 2022; Cunningham and Scarlata 2020). However, screen and media studies have yet to establish appropriate critical frameworks to explore the inclusion of queer content.

This article examines queer film and television content on BVOD and SVOD services in Australia. While streaming video services operate globally and the issue of LGBTQ inclusion is not solely a national one, Australia’s complex history with LGBTQ representation offers a unique context to explore these issues (Beirne 2009; Cover 2022a; Jennings and Lomine 2004; McIntyre 2017; Monaghan 2020). Australian television has produced a number of significant LGBTQ storylines and characters with popular programs such as Number 96 (1972–1977) and The Box (1974–1977), and Prisoner (1979–1986) often regarded key touchpoints in queer televisual histories (Monaghan 2020). The Australian screen industry has also produced a range of internationally acclaimed queer films such as The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (Stephan Elliott, 1994), Holding the Man (Neil Armfield, 2015), and 52 Tuesdays (Sophie Hyde, 2013). However, in recent years, LGBTQ identities and experiences have been underrepresented within the Australian screen landscape (Screen Australia 2016, 2023). Although there “are persistent public and discursive claims of a widespread ‘invisibility’ of gender- and sexually-diverse characters, themes and stories” on Australian screens (Cover 2022a, 5), scholarship has yet to investigate how inclusion of LGBTQ characters in Australia’s streaming media landscape.

Assessing the strategies through which BVOD and SVOD services in Australia make queer titles available and discoverable to users, this article asks: How is queer content categorized and promoted on BVOD and SVOD services in Australia? How easily discovered is this content? And how does this impact the visibility and inclusion of LGBTQ identities within the Australian screen media landscape? To answer these questions, this article mobilizes a method of catalog research to assess the inclusion of queer titles on Australian BVOD services (ABC iView, SBS On Demand, 7plus, 9Now, 10Play), local SVOD services (Stan, Binge) and international SVOD services (Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, Disney+). This involves extensive review of identity-based search terms (gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender) and umbrella/community-based search terms (LGBT, LGBTQ, LGBTIQ, LGBTIQA+, queer), examination of queer-themed content categories, and manual inspection of catalogs to locate relevant films and television series and identify the mechanisms through which they become discoverable.

Examining the inclusion and discoverability of LGBTQ content is a complex challenge. Discoverability, or the “likelihood of discovery” (Mazzoli and Tambini 2020, 12) within a digital interface, has been widely written about as an issue in the distribution affordance of non-linear systems (Hesmondhalgh and Lotz 2020; Johnson 2020; Lobato and Scarlata 2022; McKelvey and Hunt 2019). Discoverability can be thought of as a form of media power that shapes and constrains the agency of media users (McKelvey and Hunt 2019). Hesmondhalgh and Lotz argue that the discoverability features of BVOD and SVOD services can be considered akin to earlier configurations of media circulation power such as printed program guides, which shape the audience experience by “direct[ing] audiences to certain kinds of experiences and content, and therefore away from others” (Hesmondhalgh and Lotz 2020, 388). This power of direction is of particular interest to queer media studies as it relates to the prominence of queer media in mainstream environments. As I have previously noted, the omission of LGBTQ characters and storylines in printed television guides had significant impact on the broader visibility of queer content in the Australian media landscape throughout the 1980s and 1990s (Monaghan 2020). In extending these insights to the discoverability mechanisms of the streaming landscape, I must acknowledge that this issue is not exclusively a queer one. However, it is felt acutely by queer audiences and communities that rarely see their stories in traditional media contexts and continue to face exclusion through digital platforms, even though these services promise more diverse fare than traditional media. As Khoo (2023, 282) notes “subscription-based services such as Netflix are thriving by offering diversity, or at least the semblance of diversity, to its audiences.” In examining the powerful mechanisms of discovery that are impacting the visibility of queer media in this digital environment, this article interrogates this positioning of streaming video as a bastion of diversity. In drawing attention to the unique challenges of discovering queer content, I argue discoverability mechanisms make queer content more and less visible within particular platforms, the streaming video ecosystem, and the broader screen media landscape.

Discoverability mechanisms are highly dependent upon the varying industrial practices and motivations of BVOD and SVOD services. They are also influenced by curation and classification systems, audience experience and behavior, platform affordances and algorithms, and even the decision making of network executives and in-house content strategists, including tagging and classification teams. To address this complexity, this article puts screen and media studies into conversation with critical librarianship, which emphasizes the significance of categorization and classification practices as key factors in user access to queer titles within library catalogs. I argue critical librarianship offers a theoretical framework to understand the power of BVOD and SVOD services—their catalogs, their processes of tagging and categorization, and the functionality of their search systems—in shaping how LGBTQ content accessed and understood. The specific issues highlighted here include discrepancies between curated categories and search results, the failure of search tools to recognize language associated with LGBTQ identities, and the obscuring of queer content within streaming video libraries. In drawing attention to these issues, this article identifies the problematic categorization and classification practices employed for LGBTQ content on BVOD and SVOD services in Australia and, more broadly, demonstrates how catalog practices and discoverability mechanisms can impact the visibility of marginalized groups within the screen media landscape.

Queer Representations on Screen: Industry and Scholarly Approaches

Industry-oriented scholarship on queer media is largely motivated by an advocacy principle, quantifying the inclusion of LGBTQ communities on screen as a means of mapping progress toward fair and equal representation. For instance, US-based media organization GLAAD conducts annual reviews of LGBTQ representation in film and television, including scripted series on Amazon, Hulu and Netflix. Similar quantitative research is completed by the USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, which reports regularly on gender, race/ethnicity, LGBT status and disability in popular US cinema. In 2021, they examined streaming video through a report solely focused on Netflix original content, which identified 2.3 percent of leads and 5.3 percent of main cast as LGBTQ characters across Netflix US original fictional films and scripted series from 2018 to 2019 (Smith et al. 2021).

In Australia, Screen Australia’s Seeing Ourselves reports (2016; 2023) have illuminated a lack of diversity in the Australian television landscape over the past decade, identifying 4.5 percent of characters as LGBTQ over the period 2011 to 2015, which increased 7.4 percent across 2016 to 2021. A major critique of Screen Australia’s research is that it only focuses on scripted series. Not reflected in this data are reality programs including Big Brother Australia and Australian Idol that have embraced certain queer subjectivities in an “extension of Australian culture’s enduring warmth toward certain celebrated Australian drag and transgender identities” (McIntyre 2017, 91). Recent reality programs including The Bachelorette Australia, Masterchef Australia, and Married at First Sight have become a significant space of visibility for LGBTQ communities on screen.

In contrast to quantitative advocacy-led approaches, scholarly attention has been directed toward qualitative studies of LGBTQ representation. Many of these critically analyze the visibility of queer identities and communities on screen. A key trend in scholarship has been to focus on shifts from “negative” stereotype to “positive” representation of the LGBTQ community on screen. Attention has also been paid to unpacking these binaries (Bronski 2000; Davis and Needham 2008; Keegan 2022). Keegan (2022), for instance, calls for critical attention to be paid so-called “good” representation and to recognize how “goodness has been constructed to serve capitalist, white-supremacist, settler colonial, and patriarchal ends” (p. 28). Within this broader field of queer media studies has emerged a sub-field focused on Australian queer media, attending to both textual analysis and cultural histories (Cover 2022a, 2022b; Monaghan 2020; McIntyre 2017; McKinnon 2016). In a recent meta-analysis of queer media scholarship, Cover and Dau (2021) advocate for a shift toward new frameworks that account for “cultural contexts in which screen production occur and the practices by which audiences make meanings.” Buoyed by this challenge to the discipline but remaining attentive to the politics of visibility, this article critically examines the inclusion of queer content on BVOD and SVOD catalogs as a means of grappling with the contexts in which these texts are encountered by users.

For Australian audiences, watching queer film and television means engaging with a wide range of content through broadcast television and streaming video services. Given the dearth of LGBTQ representation in traditional media in Australia, streaming video services can offer greater access to queer content through their curation and classification of LGBTQ titles. Additionally, queer content is now tagged, curated, and searchable, which is not the case in traditional media where queer themes or characters may not always be identified. BVOD and SVOD services, then, play a significant role in providing audiences with access to LGBTQ content which is often unavailable in traditional media contexts. However, they must not be praised uncritically. As audiences switch from traditional media to streaming video, their encounters and engagements with screen media are increasingly shaped by the categorization and classification practices of streaming video providers, the searchability of content, and discoverability features such as promoted titles and algorithmic recommendations. To understand inclusion in the streaming video era, we must attend to these aspects of the screen experience.

Video on Demand in Australia

As Lotz (2022) identifies, the contemporary streaming video ecosystem is incredibly diverse, made up of players with varying technological capabilities, business models and industrial practices, content distribution practices, and approaches to programing, content curation, and catalog development and maintenance. In Australia, the streaming era emerged when television broadcasters entered the “on demand” market in the period 2008 to 2011, developing a range of online “catch-up” BVOD services. These included: ABC’s iView (originally known as ABC Playback), first launched in 2008; 7plus (originally known as Plus7), launched in 2010; 9Now, originally FIXplay in 2010; SBS On Demand, launched in 2011; 10Play, launched in 2013. The introduction of Netflix and Stan in 2015, along with now-defunct Presto (launched in 2014) saw the streaming market shift considerably toward a paid subscription model (SVOD). In the current landscape, audiences have access to major international SVOD services, local SVOD services, smaller niche SVODs, and BVOD services. Over 80 percent of Australian households have access to at least one streaming video service (14% view content on five or more online platforms), and uptake of SVOD and BVOD services continues to accelerate (Australian Communications and Media Authority 2023).

It is important to recognize that the business models and industrial practices of BVOD and SVOD services differ. They operate in different markets (advertiser vs. subscriber) which influences their content acquisition strategies and catalog practices and, in turn, the discoverability of their titles. In Australia, BVODs traditionally function as a “catch up” services, enabling users flexibility in their consumption of linear television programing. Australia’s dual public-service and commercial broadcasting model is reflected in the BVOD landscape. Significantly, Australia’s public-service broadcasters as are guided by policy imperatives “to inform, educate and entertain all Australians” (SBS Charter) and broadcast “programs that contribute to a sense of national identity and inform and entertain, and reflect the cultural diversity of, the Australian community” (ABC Charter). This extends to their BVOD services, which have unique exclusive digital content such as web series. Broadly, though, Australia’s BVOD services contain content that is originally distributed elsewhere, and they employ strategies for discoverability that align with broadcast programing—that is, to maximize the audience. Although some BVOD services provide exclusive streaming content, their focus is generally on highlighting programing from the linear schedule. In contrast, as Lotz (2022) highlights, SVODs adopt different industrial practices as their value proposition is based on offering users access to a library of on-demand content. SVOD libraries typically contain licensed content and/or owned intellectual property, which can include bespoke content produced for the service and titles initially produced for other distribution contexts (Lotz 2022). SVODs differ from BVODs in that they aim to cultivate niche audiences, building and retain subscribers through personalized discoverability strategies (Khoo 2023) or expertly curating categories (Balanzategui and Lynch 2023).

This article takes a broad approach to understand the inclusion of queer content in the streaming landscape in Australia, examining both BVOD and SVOD services. This is not to conflate the two models (and the finer variations within them) but to recognize that while BVOD and SVOD do differ, they collectively make up the experience of streaming video in Australia today. Moreover, in research on inclusion of diverse characters, they are often considered together (Screen Australia 2023). Though their processes are motivated by different means and shaped by different industrial forces, Australia’s BVOD and SVOD services are similar in their employment of basic discoverability features. To this end, this article focuses on the mechanisms through which LGBTQ content is categorized, curated, and searchable (or not) on BVOD services from public service broadcasters ABC iView and SBS On Demand as well as commercial networks, 9Now, 7plus, and 10Play, local SVOD services Stan and Binge, and international SVOD services, Netflix, Disney+ and Amazon Prime Video.

Queering the Streaming Catalog

While the industrial practices of BVOD and SVOD services differ, all deploy discoverability mechanisms to make their catalogs available and appealing to viewers. These include drop-down menus, categorizations, and recommendation algorithms that personalize the experience by curating titles and artwork for users based on previous data (viewing history, watch time, etc.) and/or trends on the service (popular titles for users in a region or with similar tastes) (Hesmondhalgh and Lotz 2020; Khoo 2023; Lobato and Scarlata 2022; Pajkovic 2022). To investigate the issue of inclusion of queer content on these services, this article advances a method of catalog research developed by Lobato and Scarlata (2019). This involves manual inspection of catalogs and third-party applications such as JustWatch and Unofficial Netflix Online Global Search (uNoGS) using key terms to identify relevant categories and content. Within this study, identity labels (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) and umbrella/community-based terms (LGBT, LGBTQ, LGBTIQ, LGBTIQA+, queer) were used as primary search terms to locate both categories and content. This method was selected to reflect the “identity-related information practices” of LGBTQ individuals (Floegel and Costello 2019, 32), generate insight into the easily discoverable queer content on each service, and provide opportunity to reflect on the power of discoverability mechanisms such as classification, tagging, categorization, curation, and search engines. However, it should be noted this research was undertaken in February and March 2022, a period corresponding with two of the largest queer pride festivals in Australia: Midsumma Festival in Melbourne and Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. This is a period of unique visibility for Australia’s LGBTQ communities. The findings outlined here are likely skewed high as a result of this choice, representing a “best case scenario” for LGBTQ visibility on streaming services in Australia.

It is important to recognize that catalog research is not without challenges. It cannot provide insight on the use or experience of BVOD and SVOD services beyond the author’s own experiences; it can only provide a static snapshot of the streaming landscape; queer content may be present in the catalogs of each service but not tagged as such; and the definition of “queer” is famously open and flexible (Jagose 1996) as is the definition of queer film and television (Schoonover and Galt 2016). However, by focusing on the catalog and the ways queer content is categorized and made available to BVOD and SVOD users, it is possible to build greater understanding of LGBTQ inclusion in the streaming era and highlight the important role of BVOD and SVOD services in providing access to information, media, and representations.

This method enables greater understanding of streaming video catalogs as complex ideological sites. In the context of physical libraries and their catalogs, scholars have noted that access to queer content is often made difficult by “outdated, inadequate, and irregular placement within classification and organization systems” (Edge 2019, 81). LGBTQ identities face erasure within catalogs when titles are obscured or misplaced within broader library collections—for instance, records making no reference to lesbian, gay or transgender elements of a text (Hogan 2010) or else use of subject headings that do not account for the complexity of queer identities and experience, grouping almost everything under “gay” or “lesbian” (Lember et al. 2013). Critical librarianship emphasizes that catalogs and their systems of classification are not neutral or objective, but always ideological (Drabinski 2013; Edge 2019). Since the 1970s, critiques of hegemonic classification structures have sought to offer a corrective to the bias of these systems, identifying how “libraries are sites constructed by the disciplinary power of language” (Drabinski 2013, 94). Drawing on insights of queer theory, Drabinski (2013) explores this in detail, arguing that “When an item is placed in a particular category or given a particular name, those decisions always reflect a particular ideology or approach to understanding the material itself” (p. 108). Applying these insights to BVOD/SVOD services reveals how both categorization and “the language of classification and organization systems matter” (Edge 2019, 81) when it comes to LGBTQ inclusion in the streaming era. BVOD/SVOD services have a significant role in making queer content available to users and, in turn, actively shaping how LGBTQ identities and communities are understood. As sites where screen canons and cultures are negotiated, BVOD/SVOD services also play a significant role in constructing queer media as a cultural category and shaping understandings of queer taste (Bradbury-Rance 2023).

Highlighting Queer Content: LGBTQ Categories and Curated Pride

The BVOD and SVOD services examined in this article all use categorization as a key discoverability mechanism. On these services, categories or genres are available through drop-down menus or as promoted on the home page. During the writing of this article, some services promoted queer titles through a themed category. However, there was no LGBTQ category on commercial BVOD services 9Now, 7plus, and 10Play, local SVOD Stan, or international SVODs Disney+ or Amazon Prime Video. In the case of Amazon Prime Video, detail on individual film and series revealed that the service used “LGBTQ” as a genre tag. However, this was obscured from the main menu, meaning that access to the service’s queer content relied on manual search or browsing related titles.

Of the services that offered an LGBTQ category (Netflix, Binge, ABC iView and SBS On Demand), two main strategies were apparent for making queer content discoverable. In the first instance, LGBTQ content was grouped into broad categories and smaller generic groupings. This was the model adopted by Netflix, which organized its queer media into two broad content categories: “LGBTQ Movies” and “LGBTQ TV Shows.” These were available through recommended rows on the homepage and in drop-down menus, which enabled users to easily browse and locate relevant content. One of Netflix’s unique discoverability features is the emphasis of related micro-genres and “thematic containers,” shaped by its recommendation system, user behavior, and the in-house tagging of content (Khoo 2023). For instance, searching for “LGBT” may prompt the user to “explore titles related to” a range of other genres and thematic connections within the service. Browsing through these broad genres may reveal several smaller micro-categories that group content based on similar themes, format, or release date. Within the broader LGBTQ Movies and LGBTQ TV Shows genres, some of the available micro-genres are Romantic LGBTQ Movies, Emotional LGBTQ Movies, Soapy LGBTQ TV Shows, and Binge-worthy LGBTQ TV Shows. These curated micro-categories cater to a range of tastes and highlight the thematic consistencies between texts. Reflecting Lotz’s (2017) assessment of Netflix as a service that addresses users simultaneously and separately, Netflix’s use of broad “LGBTQ” categories along with smaller curated micro-genres ensures that queer titles are discoverable to a wider range of viewers while remaining personalized for each user (Bradbury-Rance 2023).

The second model of categorization is curation of titles according to the broad generic term “pride.” Both of Australia’s public-service BVODs contained curated pride categories. On SBS On Demand, LGBTQ titles were available within the “Rainbow Pride” category, which contained a range of films, but no television content. Similarly, at the time of writing, ABC was promoting their coverage of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras parade, and the ABC iView home page contained a category called “LGBTIQA+ Pride” in one of its recommendation rows. This contained films, television series, and relevant episodes from factual programing. On local SVOD Binge, queer content was primarily accessible through the “Pride Binge Centre.” The collection included films and television series, but prioritized content associated with US premium cable services including HBO and FX such as Euphoria, Pose, and Looking.

It is significant that the services emphasized “pride” as a frame for their most discoverable LGBTQ media. “Pride” is associated with many festivals and events that celebrate LGBTQ identities and communities. These stem from the Gay Liberation movement of the 1970s, which encouraged individuals to be “out and proud” as a radical political act. The modern pride movement retains some of this resistant edge but is often associated with commercialization and commodification of LGBTQ cultures (McCann and Monaghan 2019; Johnston 2007). In their research into playlists on Spotify, Dhaenens and Burgess (2019, 1203) argue that pride categories “are uniquely situated at the nexus of political commitment and commodification.” To cluster queer media under the “pride” umbrella is to associate it with the ethos of this movement, celebrating the diversity of the LGBTQ community while also appealing to mainstream audiences through a normative politics of affirmation (Halperin and Traub 2009).

BVOD and SVOD services do not typically include all queer content within their curated “pride” categories. As discoverability mechanisms, they are designed to direct users to specific content. “Pride” categories on BVOD and SVOD services in Australia are commonly associated with a politics of empowerment and, in the case of Binge, the unique taste cultures and esthetic sensibilities of HBO. We must consider what kinds of queer content are made less visible because of these curational choices. What lies beyond the exclusionary boundary of curated “pride”? And, how discoverable is this within BVOD and SVOD catalogs?

Searching for LGBTQ Identities

Another key discoverability feature employed by BVOD and SVOD services is the search engine (Lamkhede and Das 2019), which enables users to explore content related to key terms, metadata tags, titles, and descriptions of content. Hesmondhalgh and Lotz (2020) argue that “search is an increasingly important way in which viewers find content, and in-built search tools. . .can be used [by services] to recommend” titles (p. 394). Search functionality varies across services, which impacts the ability to discover relevant queer content on each platform. For instance, on public-service BVOD SBS On Demand, the search function largely returned results with key terms in the title rather than tagged content. Searching for “gay” highlighted a range of recent news stories on “GAYFL” and “gay hate murders” but none of the titles from the curated pride category. Searching for LGBTQ identity or community-based terms on commercial BVOD services 9Now and 7plus and international SVOD Disney+ revealed no results. However, 9Now and 7plus had limited genre/category tagging and poor search functionality. To locate titles on these services, the user must search for the name of the film or television series. This reflects the status of commercial BVODs not as spaces of discovery, but rather, as tools that complement linear television by enabling flexible scheduling of titles. However, the difficulty locating queer content through search was not limited to BVODs. International SVOD Disney+ also did not use metadata tags for queer content, which meant that queer content was largely only discoverable through title search.

On all other BVOD and SVOD services, queer content was tagged and searchable. Most streaming video services used broad terminology such as “LGBT” to tag relevant content. However, reference to specific identities within tags, titles or episode summaries meant that some materials were accessible through the search function of each service. On all services where queer content was searchable, searching for “queer” or “LGBTQ” returned different results to “lesbian,” “bisexual,” or “transgender.” Examining the results of these searches also revealed tagged queer content that was not promoted to audiences through curated categories. For instance, on local SVOD Binge, a search for “LGBT” and associated terms “LGBTQ,” “LGBTIQA+” returned a few additions such as Modern Family and Will and Grace. These titles are associated with commercial broadcast television or basic cable, which contrast to the quality television focus of the curated “pride” category. However, a more significant departure from this was the categorization of transgender content. While the “Pride Binge Centre” contained acclaimed trans-led media such as Transhood, Pose and Legendary, a search for “transgender” on Binge revealed World’s Most Evil Killers, Botched, MTV True Life Crime, Secrets of the Morgue, and Law and Order: SVU. One would not expect a search for “gay” to reveal every gay character in a film or television series on the service, yet the search for “transgender” illuminated any reference to transgender identities in these true crime and reality series, likely due to the presence of identity terms in episode summaries. This grouping significantly departed from the “Pride Binge Centre” and its emphasis on inclusion and empowerment, instead shaping transgender as deviant category associated with self-obsession, crime, violence, and death.

Local SVOD Stan’s catalog revealed somewhat of an expansive understanding of queer identities and queer media as cultural category. A search for “LGBT” prompted a suggestion to “explore titles related to LGBTQI, LGBTQI+, LGBTQI+ Cinema” indicating that these terms function as genre or category tags within the service. Notably, while Stan had a unique tag for “LGBTQI+ Cinema,” the service had no corresponding category or tag for television. Television series were grouped with film within the broader categories of “LGBTQI” or “LGBTQI+,” which also included some short films and documentaries. Stan’s approach to tagging queer content reveals a construction of queer media as a cultural category shaped not only by the stories and characters of films and television series, but of the creative personnel and audience readings. The film Bound, directed by transgender filmmakers Lana and Lily Wachowski was a notable inclusion in search results for “transgender” content despite having no transgender characters, as was the film Hairspray in a search for “queer” content. These results suggest a tagging and categorization system that is open to defining queer content beyond representation of LGBTQ characters. However, the more open elements of Stan’s tagging and categorization system also resulted in some irregular placement of titles, which as Edge (2019, 81) notes is one of the major challenges associated with access to queer content in library catalogs. For instance, a search for “lesbian” returned mostly expected results from the catalog, such as Younger, The L Word, and Jenny’s Wedding. However, also suggested as a lesbian title was Phar Lap, a film about Australia’s famous champion racehorse.

Where Stan highlights the power of SVODs to use language to open queer as a category, Amazon Prime Video demonstrates language as a force that shapes boundaries of interpretation. This is revealed in the different approaches to tagging the series Tampa Baes (a reality program about a group of queer women) and Transparent (a series about a family that included storylines about transgender, nonbinary, and diverse sexualities). Tampa Baes is discoverable through search term “lesbian” but not “queer” or “LGBT/LGBTQ.” Conversely, Transparent is discoverable through search terms “queer” or “LGBT/LGBTQ” but not “transgender.” As Drabinski (2013) argues, “when an item is placed in a particular category or given a particular name, those decisions always reflect a particular ideology” (p. 108). The use of specific identity labels targets media to specific audiences, but it also has a cultural and political impact. In the context of Tampa Baes, framing the series as “lesbian,” emphasizes that it is about lesbian culture and created for a lesbian audience. Seen through the lens of identity politics, it is also means of providing visibility to a specific culture and community as opposed to broader LGBTQ or “queer” grouping. In the context of Transparent, the logic works in the reverse. Associating the series with “queer” opens it to a broader viewership and primes audiences to understand it as a series about multiple aspects of queer identity and culture. However, failure to associate the series with “transgender” may de-emphasize the trans elements of the series, making it less discoverable to users searching this term. This may contribute to a broader invisibility of transgender identities and communities within both the Amazon Prime Video catalog and the broader screen media landscape. This is articularrly significant in the Australian context, where trans and gender diverse characters are routinely excluded, making up only 0.6 percent of main characters in television (Screen Australia 2023) and infrequently represented in cinematic storytelling.

Being able to search and find relevant content associated with LGBTQ identities is incredibly valuable. As Edge (2019, 81) notes, “individuals should be represented in systems by terms that they are familiar with and use to describe themselves.” However, there are significant tensions at play here. The frequent use of broad umbrella terms connects to and potentially amplifies longer-standing issues around the relative invisibility of marginalized communities—terms such as queer or LGBTQ often stand in for gay and (less frequently) lesbian, (and even less frequently) bisexual, transgender, non-binary, intersex, and asexual. At the same time, queer identities are not always easy to classify, and some may refuse to be fixed. As Bradbury-Rance (2023) argues, queer “fantasies of desire don’t always align with identity positions, least of all in relation to representation.” This poses a significant challenge for the teams that tag and classify queer content as they must balance the need to make queer content searchable and discoverable without necessarily fixing queer identities to restrictive labels.

LGBTQ Search Terms as Misspellings

As search tools function as a form of “media circulation power” (Hesmondhalgh and Lotz 2020) directing viewers to (or away from) particular content, one of the more troubling observations in this study was the failure of BVOD and SVOD services to see language associated with LGBTQ identities and communities as relevant search terms. For instance, local SVOD Stan’s search function saw these terms as misspellings and retrieved content associated with similar terms. A search for “gay” returned Gaby Baby, Gay for Play, and Will and Grace, but also many films and television series featuring similar terms such as “day” (Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Daddy Day Care) and “guy” (The New Guy, The Other Guy). Similarly, a search for “queer” returned Queer as Folk, The L Word and RuPaul, as well as a range of films with the term “queen” in the title (The White Queen, Elizabeth II: The Making of a Queen). This was also the case for Disney+, which compounded the lack of searchable LGBTQ terms by only retrieving titles featuring similar words. A search for “gay” retrieved Free Guy, Garfield, Day and Night. This practice of substitution is a mechanism designed to prevent users from hitting “dead-end[s] in their efforts to find something worthy of streaming” (Lamkhede and Das 2019, 1373). Though for some only a minor annoyance, this practice may have significant impact. The retrieval of relevant material in a catalog search plays an important role providing or limiting access to information and representation. This is particularly important for marginalized groups such as LGBTQ communities (McInroy and Craig 2017). Further, as Drabinski (2013) identifies, the decision to associate items with particular names (or in this case without) always reflects the ideological processes underpinning knowledge organization. Unsearchable terms are deemed unimportant within the systems that organize them, and they are inaccessible and unknowable to many users. In this case, treating “gay” and “queer” as misspellings rather than viable search terms serves to invalidate and contributes to a symbolic erasure of LGBTQ identities and communities within the broader media landscape.

Obscuring Queer Content

All BVOD and SVOD catalogs analyzed for this study contained films and television series that featured LGBTQ characters and stories but were not tagged or categorized as queer content. Browsing through the catalogs of the commercial BVOD services 9Now, 7plus, and 10Play revealed a number of titles that featured queer storylines or had a notable queer presence such as Five Bedrooms, or Prisoner. While availability of LGBTQ media content varies across these BVOD services, the lack of queer themed categories and poor searchability meant that discoverability of this content relied on prior knowledge and interest—knowing exactly what to search or perhaps hoping for the best through exploration of the catalog. On public-service BVODs ABC iView and SBS On Demand, which had curated “pride” categories and some level of searchability for LGBTQ terms, other seemingly obscured LGBTQ content included Janet King, The Newsreader, Iggy and Ace and The Family Law. It is notable that these were all televisual titles. Similarly, on local SVOD Binge, the catalog contained several television series that featured significant ongoing queer storylines. These included the Australian series Wentworth and several US series such as The Wire, And Just Like That, and Somebody Somewhere. The failure to categorize these television series as LGBTQ reflects the difficulty faced by the teams that tag and classify content, particularly when it comes to televisual materials which may be lengthier, more unwieldy, and perhaps difficult to define as “queer”—though television scholars would argue that the ongoing serial structures of television are strongly aligned with queer esthetics and narratives (Monaghan 2016; Davis and Needham 2008).

These issues are amplified in the case of Disney+, which during the writing of this article, had many critically acclaimed queer films and television series within its catalog but limited means to find them. ² Browsing Disney+ in February 2022 revealed canonical queer works (Boys Don’t Cry), critically acclaimed films (The Favourite), popular queer romantic comedies (Love, Simon and its spin off series Love, Victor), and ground-breaking televisual representation of LGBTQ identities. These included My So-Called Life, featuring the first queer teen character on US television and the episode of Ellen featuring Ellen DeGeneres coming out. Also notable on the service were two LGBTQ history miniseries: When We Rise and Pride. In many of these examples, terms such as “gay,” “queer,” and “LGBTQ” were evident within the synopsis or episode summaries, yet these were not searchable terms within the service. To locate these films and series on Disney+, the user needed to search for the title or locate it within a broader genre or category (such as comedy or drama). This means that queer content was both accessible and not. It was available to those who pursue it and who know exactly what to search, but otherwise it was largely hidden from view.

Queerness is not an afterthought to any of the LGBTQ titles identified here. They have ongoing queer storylines, large queer fan cultures and, in some cases, have been acclaimed for their representations of LGBTQ identities. Despite this, they are somewhat obscured by the heteronormative logics of these catalogs and the decision making of the teams that categorize, curate, and ascribe tags to titles. Through these processes, LGBTQ titles may become less visible to audiences seeking to discover new queer content. As I have noted, this issue is not exclusive to streaming video, but it is something that contemporary queer audiences must frequently grapple with. This reflects what theorist José Muñoz describes as a certain contingent quality of queerness: available to those within its epistemological sphere “while evaporating at the touch for those who would eliminate queer possibility” (Muñoz 1996, 6). While Bradbury-Rance (2023) suggests this is one of the queer pleasures of the streaming video landscape, the omission of these titles in LGBTQ categories or keyword search results makes their queerness less discoverable within the catalog. In the Australian context, this amplifies existing issues around the exclusion of LGBTQ identities and experiences on screen.

Conclusion

Along with other forms of screen media, BVOD and SVOD services provide viewers with access to representations of diverse identities, communities, and cultures. Focusing on the ways that content is categorized, curated, and made available to users of these services, it is possible to build greater understanding of streaming video catalogs as complex ideological sites. Although BVOD and SVOD services in Australia provide access to LGBTQ content that is unavailable in traditional media contexts, problematic categorization, classification, and curation practices are directing users toward some content and away from others, powerfully shaping knowledge about LGBTQ identities, communities, and cultures.

The arguments advanced here are not geographically bounded and could be applied to other contexts, both national and global. However, as I have identified, Australia provides a unique context through which to study these issues, given its long and complex history of queer inclusion on screen and current scrutiny around issues of diversity (Cover 2022a; Screen Australia 2023). There are many further questions that to be addressed by future research in this area, including assessment of discoverability mechanisms in other parts of the world; analysis of the films and television series that are categorized as “queer”; studies of the audience that ask how viewers discover and engage with queer content; analysis of emerging SVOD services that cater to the specific needs and interest of queer/LGBTQ communities.

The major conclusions to be drawn here are that streaming video catalogs have significant power in rendering LGBTQ identities as visible and legitimate or obscuring and erasing queer potentialities, and that the availability of LGBTQ titles within a given catalog means little without a means of discovery. As critical librarianship identifies, classification, categorization, and tagging are powerful tools of discovery that direct users toward some kinds of content and away from others. These practices are tied up in systems of power that can both produce and resist hegemonic ways of knowing and being, rendering BVOD and SVOD catalogs as complex ideological sites. Bringing screen and media studies into conversation with critical librarianship offers one means of thinking through the complexities of streaming video catalogs, but the evolving nature of the media landscape means that further research into this area is essential.