Cameron Tucker and the Complexities of Rural Queerness
The flamboyantly queer character from "Modern Family" encapsulates many of the contradictions and struggles of rural queer identity.
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I’ve recently been rewatching Modern Family from the beginning, and I must say that I have been enjoying the experience. Though I’ve long been a fan of the series, I’ve been more of a casual consumer than a reliable viewer, and it’s only been over the past several months that I’ve actually committed myself to watching the series from the beginning to the end. As I’ve done so, I’ve become slowly but steadily impressed by the emotional depth of this series, which uses the traditional banality of the sitcom form to explore some genuinely resonant emotional material, all while staying true to its central mission of exploring the contours and changes affecting the modern American idea(l) of the family.
Of course, it probably goes without saying that one of my favorite characters has always been Cameron, memorably portrayed by Eric Stonestreet. Part of this no doubt stems from the fact that I see a lot of myself in this flamboyant and messy queen. Like Cam, I can be a bit self-involved even though, also like him, I care deeply about my family and friends and will do anything for them. And, when it comes right down to it, I like making a spectacle of myself. Most distressingly, perhaps, I tend to have a number of nemeses (most of whom I doubt even think about me at all let alone view me in the same light). And, like him, I happen to be partners with someone who is a bit more restrained in his emotions (though my partner is at least a bit more functional than Mitch).
At first glance it might seem that Cam is the stereotypical TV queer character: flamboyant, emotional, prone to theatrics, self-indulgent, and sometimes self-destructive. Now, I have to say at the outset that I am not one of those queer critics who sees anything innately wrong with stereotypes. In fact, as my affiliation with Cam as a character demonstrates, it’s sometimes quite refreshing to see oneself represented, particularly if one happens to embody many of the “unsavory” attributes that are so often attributed to the gay stereotype. (Incidentally, I felt the same way about Jack in Will & Grace, even though for many years I tried to insist to myself that I was really more like Will).
Moreover, as we learn over the course of the series’ eleven seasons, there’s quite a lot more going on with Cam than the stereotype might suggest. He might be effeminate and emotional, but he is also a devout sports fan (something the two of us most definitely do not share, by the way). In fact, he even becomes a football coach for a high school team. Indeed, his love of athletics becomes one of the key means by which he establishes a bond of sorts with his curmudgeonly father-in-law Jay, who has always expressed a fair amount of ambivalence over Cam’s very notable lack of the traditional male stoicism in which Jay is so invested. Cam, like so many other queer people in both the media and real life truly does contain multitudes.
What really stood out to me as I watched this series, however, was how much love and loyalty Cam still has for his home state of Missouri. Despite the fact that he has built a lovely little urban life with Mitchell and their daughter Lily, the truth is that there will always be a part of Cam that yearns for his rural roots. Time and again throughout the series we hear him wax eloquent about the rustic charms of his home, many of which, it must be said, bear more than a striking resemblance to the rural absurdities recounted by one Rose Nylund of The Golden Girls, who was prone to sharing stories of her beloved hamlet of St. Olaf.
Cam’s antics and his humorous anecdotes–some of which, to be sure, strain the bounds of credulity–are undeniably hilarious, and for the most part Cam himself seems to realize this. To me, though, there is also always a note of pain and sadness lurking beneath his generally cheery demeanor. Mitch rarely misses an opportunity to mock his rural upbringing and mannerisms and, while many of these moments are played for laughs–with the audience clearly expected to align itself with Mitch’s point-of-view–one still can’t miss the way that Cam genuinely wants to see Mitch connect with a part of his life that continues to have value for him. Mitch, on the other hand, genuinely struggles to understand why Cam would pine for a place that seemingly has so little to offer to queer folks like them (there’s very little musical theater in rural Missouri, after all).
Yet, as any rural queer could tell Mitch, when you’re a country mouse that ends up converting into a city mouse, you never entirely leave your old self behind. Instead, you learn to compartmentalize it; like Cam you learn how to be happy in your new surroundings, even as you want your loved ones to understand it and value it in the same way that you do. It’s for this reason, I think, that I find Cam’s desire so poignant, particularly since it takes such an obvious toll on him for their daughter Lily to be so ignorant of this part of his life and his heritage.
There’s thus something uniquely bittersweet about the finale, which at last gives Cam the chance that he’s always wanted to build a life in his home state. While he will finally get to feel like a part of himself has been restored, this still entails a fair bit of sacrifice, particularly since Cam, Mitch, and Lily have already built up such a support structure with Mitch’s family. However, one can only hope that this lovely queer family–with its new addition of Rex–manages to find their own little slice of happiness in Missouri (even though the rightward lurch of that state makes such a longing perhaps a bit too optimistically utopian).
Even though there has been a lot of commentary recently about the unique lives that rural queers live. Contrary to what urbanites like to believe, country queers genuinely love the places where they grew up, even as they are also quite frustrated and angry (and sometimes terrified) about the kinds of politics that have increasingly come to dominate such spaces. Modern Family’s Cam gives us a fascinating look at what a rural queer person can look like on-screen, and we can but hope that there will be more to follow in his footsteps.