Carla and Lisa’s story proves representation isn’t just about visibility, it’s about rewriting the rules of love and family on television.
Editors note: I wrote quotes down during the panel, in between taking photos.
When Vicky Myers appeared on the panel at FanFusion’s Pursuit of Justice convention last weekend, she spoke about how it feels to play Lisa Swain, an LGBTQ+ character, and her words struck a chord: “It’s phenomenal and a real privilege… also to get the family unit represented on British television is brilliant, and about time.” As I’m sure you can imagine, this earned a huge round of applause from the room.
For fans, the impact wasn’t only that Lisa and Carla’s romance appeared on screen, it was that it unfolded in such a refreshingly different way. Unlike so many queer storylines before it, theirs, and Carla’s especially, wasn’t built around a sexuality “journey.” It was built around love.
In soaps and prime time dramas, same-sex relationships often come with a predictable structure. A character starts questioning their sexuality, goes through turmoil, eventually comes out, and then their new identity becomes the focus of their arc. These stories have of course been vital for visibility and for audiences who have lived through those struggles themselves. But Lisa and Carla’s story made a different, equally important statement: not every queer love story needs to revolve around labelling, self-discovery, or explanation. Sometimes, all that matters is that two people meet, connect, and fall in love.
As Myers explained, “It isn’t so much about sexuality, it’s about two women falling in love with each other, as soulmates.” That distinction may seem subtle, but it’s groundbreaking. Carla doesn’t need to label herself as bisexual, lesbian, or queer. She doesn’t need to have a long speech about attraction to men or women. What matters is that she has fallen for Lisa, and Lisa has fallen for her. The fact that gender isn’t the headline of the storyline is what makes it powerful.
Love stories are a large part of the heartbeat of the soap opera genre – sweeping romances, devastating betrayals, second chances. By presenting Lisa and Carla’s relationship as just another great soap love story, the writers levelled the playing field. There was no asterisk, no framing of it as “different.” It was love, pure and simple (ahem, not so subtle Hear’Say reference… here’s hoping Michelle comes back for the wedding!).
That normalcy is precisely what makes it extraordinary. For decades, queer characters on British TV were often written through the lens of identity politics. Their primary story was about being gay or bisexual, rather than about being a doctor, a parent, a friend, or a lover. By sidestepping a sexuality storyline, Lisa and Carla’s arc gave them space to be everything at once: partners, parents, career focused, and women in love.
This approach also broadens representation more than many people realise. Coming-out narratives are still vital, of course, but they don’t cover the full spectrum of queer experiences. Many people don’t feel the need to label themselves, or they discover love in ways that defy categories. Lisa and Carla’s story reflects that reality. Myers also addressed the conversations sparked by this storyline, emphasising that the characters’ previous sexual history is irrelevant, and highlighting “the conversations that it can start, educating people, because people want to pigeonhole by a label, and that’s not what this is.” By not giving audiences a box to put Carla in, the show challenges them to accept love without needing to define it.
For British television, this is a leap forward. Representation has often been about fighting for a place on screen. Now, it’s about deepening that representation, and showing queer love as ordinary, as universal, as worthy of soap’s big storylines. And it matters. As Myers put it: “If there is a family that can watch the television and feel seen and feel heard … that’s brilliant.”
Lisa and Carla’s story shows that sometimes the most radical thing a soap can do is to resist the urge to explain. To let love exist without labels. To say that it doesn’t matter what Carla calls herself, only that she has found someone she can’t live without.
And maybe that’s the point. In a medium famous for love stories, Lisa and Carla’s proves that queer romance doesn’t need special treatment to be special. It just needs to be real.
As Myers reminded the audience, “This is two people, two women, falling in love.” And on British television, that’s more powerful than any label could ever be.
Sarah xo
Photos: Sarah Louise Photography / Swarla HQ