Yet, But I’m a Cheerleader remains relevant because it speaks to the experience of realization . In an era of "queer baiting" and sanitized LGBTQ+ representation on Disney+, this film still feels daring. It features a lesbian character (Graham) who is angry, messy, and unapologetic. It features a protagonist who is femme, girly, and refuses to cut her hair or wear flannel to be "legitimately" gay.
No discussion of the film is complete without the central romance between Megan (Lyonne) and Graham (DuVall). This is where the film earns its emotional weight. Graham is the "bad influence," the butch-leaning cynic who has been at the camp for months and knows the system is a sham. Megan is the naive, bubbly princess. But I-m a Cheerleader
Their first kiss is one of the most beautifully awkward and honest queer kisses in cinema history. It happens in the woods, away from the prying eyes of the counselors. It is clumsy, hesitant, and then—explosive. Megan, who could never enjoy kissing her boyfriend, suddenly understands the hype. Lyonne plays this realization with eyes wide open, literally seeing her future for the first time. Yet, But I’m a Cheerleader remains relevant because
But I'm a Cheerleader is a masterclass in political satire disguised as a teen comedy. It uses the language of the very thing it critiques—hyper-gendered, hyper-romanticized heterosexuality—to dismantle it. It’s a film that makes you laugh, then makes you think, and ultimately leaves you cheering for the cheerleader. For anyone questioning their identity, for any ally, or for anyone who just loves a well-crafted, deeply funny movie, it is essential viewing. It features a protagonist who is femme, girly,
Twenty-five years after its release, But I'm a Cheerleader is no longer just a cult classic; it's a cornerstone of queer cinema. Directed by Jamie Babbit and starring a then-unknown Natasha Lyonne, the film is a vibrant, stylized, and unapologetically camp takedown of conversion therapy, heteronormativity, and the absurdity of trying to "cure" someone of their authentic self.
By making the "therapy" so cartoonishly absurd, the film strips it of any perceived legitimacy. The "techniques"—like hitting a dummy shaped like a same-sex parent, or watching slideshows of "healthy" heterosexual couples—are shown not as science, but as brainwashing. The campiness serves as a shield, allowing the film to tackle a deeply traumatic subject (conversion therapy) without becoming unbearably grim. Instead, it exposes the inherent absurdity of the premise: that love between two women is a "disease" requiring a cure.
Underneath the layers of satire is a genuine, tender romance. At camp, Megan meets Graham (Clea DuVall), a brooding, cynical "incorrigible" lesbian. Graham has been to True Directions before and sees through the whole charade.