Over the past 21 years, Shondaland has put countless LGBTQ+ characters and storylines front and center on TV — from Callie’s coming-out journey on Grey’s Anatomy to Benedict’s bisexual romances on Bridgerton. For queer viewers around the world, these stories have helped them figure out their identities, celebrate their community, and feel seen for who they really are. This Pride Month, we’re exploring the impact that these stories have had on queer fans.
When it was announced this past March that Bridgerton’s upcoming fifth season would center on the love story between Lady Francesca Stirling (Hannah Dodd) and Michaela Stirling (Masali Baduza), countless queer fans erupted with joy. Not only will it be the first season of the Shondaland hit to revolve around a LGBTQ+ romance, but it will also make Bridgerton one of the few major TV series overall to give sapphic women the spotlight.
And while we don’t know many details yet about how the show will portray the couple already dubbed #Franchaela by fans, the stars have teased plenty of yearning, romance, “introspection,” and in classic Bridgerton fashion, a happily ever after. For viewers like J.M., a 35-year-old lesbian in Singapore working in AI, the women’s future possibilities — as well their fleeting romantic moments so far — are “deeply affecting,” she tells Shondaland. Below, she explains how the Franchaela storyline provides representation and hope for queer fans in dire need of both.
I had an idea that I was gay from as early as 9 years old, when I had a crush on an older girl. But in the environment I grew up in, the provinces of the Philippines, people like me tended to just deny that part of ourselves. LGBTQ+ people were not seen as equals. People often say the Philippines is accepting because there are gay characters on television and because there are entertainers and comedians who are queer. But even now, so much of it revolves around mockery and spectacle. Gay people in entertainment are tolerated because they make people laugh, but when it comes to legal rights, we don’t have any national anti-discrimination laws or same-sex marriages.
I don’t think many people fully understand what it means to grow up queer in a place where your existence is tolerated more easily than your love is. You learn very early that you are allowed to exist as entertainment, maybe even as the “funny friend,” but not as someone deserving of a sweeping, respected love story.
And for most of my life, that was reflected in the media too. I couldn’t find people just like me to help give a name to what I was feeling, to pattern my journey and identity after. So, I grew up surviving on scraps. An eight-second scene between two women in the background of a show felt monumental. A side character casually mentioning she liked women felt revolutionary. I celebrated subtexts because sometimes subtexts were all I had. I remember holding on to looks, dialogue, parallels, tiny moments — constantly trying to make a home out of implications because openly queer love stories still felt impossible to ask for. Eventually, I internalized that. I stopped expecting to be chosen as the main story.
It wasn’t until I went to university in Manila when I found a community of people just like me and started the journey of accepting myself. It was a long, difficult time. I came out to my friends, but I couldn’t come out yet to my family. On Twitter, though, I joined many WLW (women loving women) fandoms for shows like Once Upon a Time and Grey’s Anatomy. Shipping queer female romances on those shows carried me through one of the lowest points of my life and into adulthood.
I wasn’t originally part of the Bridgerton fandom, but earlier this year, some of the people I follow online started going crazy over the announcement that the upcoming new season would be centered around Francesca and Michaela. The moment I heard that one of the central love stories would belong to two women, I felt an immediate need to support it. I started watching Bridgerton from season one.
At first, it was hard not to have doubts and some disbelief that the show would handle a queer romance right. But when I got to season four and started seeing how Bridgerton handled Francesca’s storyline, I felt a kind of hope. And when she met Michaela, it was very exciting for me. For so long, queer women like me had to search for ourselves at the edges of stories, but suddenly we were being placed in the center of the frame. It’s been deeply affecting.
For me, Franchaela’s love story isn’t just about representation; it’s also about finally seeing queer women treated as worthy of softness, of yearning, of being the great romance instead of the side plot. There’s been something healing about seeing two women framed with orchestral music and lingering glances and tenderness instead of shame or ridicule — about watching queer love treated as beautiful and inevitable instead of controversial.
What makes it even more emotional for me is that I relate deeply to Michaela. She knows the pain of hiding who she is, what she calls the “wicked” part of herself. My parents know I’m gay now, but we don’t really talk about it. When my mom found out, she told me it was okay to be who I am but that I could never be in a relationship because it would be a sin. That conversation has stayed with me for years.
When you’re the eldest child in an Asian family and a foreign worker, you’re supposed to be a role model and support your family by sending money home. I do that, but my family doesn’t know the “me” outside of that responsibility. They don’t know my interests. They don’t know the woman I love. It’s very lonely. My younger sister is married and has a child, and my whole family celebrates her life with joy and pride. Meanwhile, I’m planning a future that I have to hide. I’ve been in a committed long-term relationship for eight years, and we’re engaged, but my parents know nothing about it.
Still, when I think about the concept of Francesca’s family potentially being involved in her love match with Michaela and even a wedding, I’m hopeful that can happen to me as well. There’s a lot we don’t know about the Franchaela story going into season five, but my hope is that Bridgerton won’t be afraid to tell it fully. Queer women like me want to see a big love story with all the conflicts and huge moments that other couples got in past seasons. Because our stories are worth the same scale, beauty, longing, and care that straight audiences have always received without question.v