These Thems‘ Vico Ortiz and Gretchen Wylder Talk Industry Obstacles to Making Queer Stories

In an industry where queer representation feels doled out like table scraps, comedy series These Thems was an outlier from the very beginning. With a crowdfunding campaign on IndieGoGo giving creators the fuel to start this fire, a team of queer and marginalized artists filmed the first season in just 11 days using donated locations across New York City. From Outfest LA to Newfest in NYC, screenings of These Thems were building momentum as the first episode premiered on YouTube on February 27, 2020. 

While the premiere started to rack up thousands of views and draw new eyes to a rare comedy that centered queer, trans, and non-binary experiences, YouTube decided that was a problem. Just weeks after it premiered, everything started to go wrong. When I speak to These Thems writer and creator Gretchen Wylder, she recounts the “traumatic experience” of watching her creation disappear just as they tried to find an audience. 

“Shortly after we started releasing the episodes, we were instantly demonetized and flagged as pornography, flagged as graphic content. Then I would have people DMing me all of a sudden being like, ‘Hey, episode six is gone,’ or, ‘Episode three is down.’ Literally, full episodes kept getting taken down by YouTube,” they say. “It’s heartbreaking as a creator. I’ve worked so hard. I can’t even calculate how many hours I’ve put into this, and just having a chunk of your narrative gone, inaccessible while also trying to drive people to watch it was just very difficult. It was only on YouTube for six months, and then it was in the best interest of the project to try and find distribution elsewhere.” 

Despite having zero nudity, YouTube still had an issue with These Thems. The closest thing to nudity in the series is a dildo being shown on screen, but YouTube doesn’t have an issue with New York Magazine’s “Horniest Vibrator Scenes from Film and TV” video or multiple creators doing sex toy tutorials and reviews getting millions of views. Somehow, a comedy centered on queer and non-binary identities was just too controversial for the platform at that time. While These Thems eventually managed to find temporary refuge with OutfestNow (now known as OutMuseum) and Open Television, those small streamers limited the ability to build an audience that could support a future for the series. 

After the writers and actors strikes of last year, These Thems was re-released on YouTube in hopes of once again reaching more people. Meanwhile, the larger television and film industry is feeling the ripple effects of artists daring to demand the compensation and support they deserve. Vico Ortiz, star of These Thems and a fixture of the highly rated but recently canceled queer romcom Our Flag Means Death, also speaks with me about the challenges of getting queer stories made after the strike. 

“So many cancellations have been happening, it’s pretty chaotic. The energy was very different to what it is now, and it hasn’t even been a full year. Right before the strikes happened, there was a pretty energized feeling. People are taking pitches. There’s all these new streaming platforms and they’re looking for more content. There was a lot of energy around queer and marginalized creators,” they say, adding: “You want to get your projects attached to a studio or to a streamer because they’ll give you visibility and give you the funding, which is very exciting, but then on the other hand there’s a high chance they’ll give you notes—notes by predominantly older white cis/het men—that will little by little change the nature of your project to make it more ‘palatable.’ I’m also noticing that a lot of people who ran diversity programs in most of the big studios are getting fired which is incredibly disappointing. These are folks who were championing new and different stories. And now, instead, the big studios are playing it safe with remakes. They think that’s what’s gonna make them more money, instead of investing in the things that people really wanna watch.” 

“It’s no surprise that the strikes happened when there’s been the most diversity and inclusion in writers’ rooms, directors, and actors. When it was just white cishet men, they were making bank. Then the second they started hiring more diverse folks that dramatically changed, so now we were like, ‘Excuse you?’” Ortiz says, and Wylder then chimes in echoing the reality they’re still facing: “Queer stories are either getting greenlit and then dropped or not getting support… Or removed from the platform altogether! So even after working so hard on the project, the folks aren’t even able to see the fruits of their labor.”

Ortiz had a uniquely challenging experience throughout the strikes, as the second season of Our Flag was announced in September and aired entirely in October while actors had to stay silent as strike leaders won them a fair deal. Despite high hopes for a renewal of the flagship Max original, that too came crashing down when Max canceled the series on January 9 of this year. Ortiz doesn’t know how close it may have been to a third season, but a surprising mid-strike promotional push by Max (especially considering the 40% season two budget cut and Max’s misguided marketing of the first season) gave them hope. 

“I had a feeling that the second season was gonna be our last one when we wrapped just because of the climate in which we were in. So when Max really began to push the second season, I was pleasantly surprised,” they say. “There was a part of me that was really hopeful we were gonna get a third one. Just to—three seasons! It’s not asking for a lot. Execs want shows that last a lot of time so they can keep investing and making money, but they’re not really putting in the investment so that these shows can last.”

“Creators are forced to envision shows that just last three seasons, and sometimes even just one. If you can just get one. I’m seeing so many limited series now,” Ortiz says. They elaborate: “And it’s a bummer, because you wanna create stuff that keeps on giving. How do you create cliffhangers? How do you create that desire to keep watching? It’s a bummer that we’ve had to operate in this kind of limited space rather than an abundance of storylines, because there is so much. I mean, the human experience is abundant.” 

While Max’s promotional push may have provided false hope, the real inspiration to Vico Ortiz has been the Our Flag Means Death fandom. Fans organized food deliveries to the picket line mid-strike, raised nearly $20,000 for RainbowYOUTH, crowdfunded a Times Square billboard for the show post-cancellation, and continue to support fundraisers for Gazans in need. 

“The way in which people have been mobilizing has me very, very energized. Incredibly proud, and not just with the campaign to save Our Flag. I’m watching the community. I’m watching how every single one of y’all are not just mobilizing with this but for everything. Y’all have fundraised for so many different types of organizations and causes,” Ortiz says, later adding: “It also makes me hopeful seeing how y’all are mobilizing and are incredibly earnest and passionate about seeing queer content on TV or wherever that may be. It makes me, as a producer, as a writer, as an actor, excited to know that there is a community of folks who are going to support queer content that I make and attach myself to with friends that are also queer creators, and writers, and producers, and actors, because I want to give it to y’all.” 

While queer comedies like These Thems and Our Flag can be undeniably entertaining, their impact goes far beyond that. Ortiz had only just come out as non-binary when These Thems began filming in late 2018, and they channeled the “straight whisperer” vibe of their character Vero to then come out to their parents while navigating the challenges of using non-gendered language in Spanish. Ortiz carried that experience into portraying Jim as authentically as possible, and we talk about the far-reaching effects queer stories can have. 

“These Thems was an invitation for me to really step into my power. As I was in that filming process, I was surrounded by so many beautiful gender expansive, sexuality expansive people on set. People were showing up in so many different ways, and it was just beautiful,” they say. “Being queer has helped me be really curious and tender and compassionate towards myself and people around me. It’s not only important for other queer people to see queer content, it’s important for the world.” 

“For me, queer content is quintessential to the way the world changes. I mean, the word queer comes from curious, different. We’ve been told that you cannot, because they wanna put us in this little box, right? So when you start kind of being curious and honoring your queerness, honoring your differences, honoring the contradictions of our humanity, then you start seeing the world in different ways. Rather than putting assumptions on people, you start honoring them as who they are. It’s good not only for queers, but it’s good for literally the whole world,” they say. 

Wylder adds her thoughts on the power of representation and seeing the way viewers react to it. Ultimately, all of that power comes back to having queer artists at every level of a production.

“Not only is it people seeing themselves and the representation, but the show was written for everyone to relate to. I love it when straight people come up to me and they’re like, ‘Wow, I really related to Asher’s storyline,’ or whoever,” Wylder says. “That to me is the ultimate marker of success, because that really means you were able to see into our world, empathize with us, and you’ll be softer, more gentle, more open and accepting to real people in the real world that you may now relate to.” 

“When assembling the crew, I specifically wanted people with different perspectives, different sexualities, different backgrounds. Our director, Jett Garrison, identifies as trans-masculine,” she says. “For a director’s perspective, it was really important to have that. Jett doesn’t have to ask what it feels like, Jett knows what it feels like. That is so important, and as we’re moving into a space of more networks and things like that, it is so important for these networks to start waking up and actually promoting people and putting people in a position of power to oversee and make sure these stories are being told effectively while supporting that.” 

Gretchen Wylder sat down to begin writing These Thems the day after Trump was elected, but the queer heart of this project was Ellie “The Gaysha” Conant. Before she passed on January 1, 2016, The Gaysha was an iconic queer and lesbian party promoter in New York City organizing events like Choice Cunts, Meow Mix, and Snapshot. When I speak to Wylder, she talks about how Conant’s relentless love and support as “a total hype person” impacted so many and became foundational to These Thems. 

“I used to pursue solely musical theater, other people’s work that I would try and be cast in. Ellie was always trying to hype me up and be like, ‘You need to make your own stuff, you are so involved with the community, why don’t you bridge that with your sketch comedy?’ I was always afraid to do it, but after she passed, I decided to make the show in honor of her. I feel like Ellie, in a spiritual sense, has been watching. I feel like she’s been a part of this whole process. I think she would fucking love it. I think she would have a crush on the entire cast,” Wylder says. “The biggest memory [of The Gaysha] for me is being new to New York City and going to one of her parties and meeting her through a mutual friend. And she’s like, ‘Oh, you’re new? Okay, let’s go. I’m gonna introduce you to people I think you’ll click with.’ She did that for so many people. I feel like her energy is so ingrained in These Thems, because that’s what I want people to feel when they watch it. I want people to feel like, ‘Oh, you? Come here with us. You’re safe here.’” 

While queer and marginalized creators continue fighting to get their stories made, the obstacles just keep appearing. Dozens of shows highlighting underrepresented stories have been cut short. Even the re-release of These Thems is once again being hindered by YouTube, but that battle is far from over. While Wylder continues to combat YouTube censorship, she’s also committed to keeping the principles of the show intact when the next chapter is written. 

“It was demonetized again, and I’m fighting it so hopefully I will hear back soon. It’s just crazy when you see a platform like HBO Max canceling their queer series, but on the other side of things when you go fully independent and you have your queer series and YouTube flags it as graphic content. There’s so many fucking music videos that are more graphic content than These Thems that are making a lot of money on YouTube,” Wylder says. “We’re keeping our options open, but there will be a future for These Thems with a writers’ room that reflects the people you see on screen.”

To stay up to date with the latest news on These Thems, you can check out their website or follow the show on Instagram and TikTok.