Loki: A Bisexual Journey

By Ian Lawrence-Tourinho

July 19, 2021

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Photo credit: Disney/Marvel

I’ll admit it. I got bored of Marvel’s endless stream of superhero movies a while ago. But still, when Disney+ decided to devote a whole series to the character Loki, my interest was piqued. And when word got out that Disney’s version of Loki would be bisexual, I knew I had to watch.

Loki is surprisingly refreshing. Within the first minutes of the first episode, we’re introduced to the TVA, an agency with a befittingly anachronistic, CIA-like bureaucracy that maintains the “Sacred Timeline” by “pruning” out “variants” — that is anyone who does things that could take that official timeline off the pre-planned script. Spoilers spoilers spoilers (and there will be more spoilers ahead), we’re told the TVA was founded to maintain the peace after a multiverse war between countless timelines caused untold suffering.

An agent at the TVA recruits Loki to help hunt down a particularly dangerous variant who has been killing TVA operatives, stealing their technology, and somehow eluding all the agency’s normal tracking measures. Long story short, we soon learn that the variant is none other than Loki himself — one from a different timeline. Things get even more interesting when we discover the variant is apparently a very different Loki than what we’re used to: she’s a blond, female avatar named Sylvie.

The two are hostile at first but soon develop an affection for each other that is narcissistic and yet also a healthy form of self-love. That love is so transformative, in fact, that it seems to heal “our” Loki from some of the trauma and psychological issues that otherwise drive him to repeatedly bring so much mischief, chaos, and suffering into the world. Their bond is so transformative that it begins to sprout an entirely new timeline in a place where that should be impossible.

promotional image of Sylvie and Loki in glowing golden light.
Disney/Marvel

But was there any overt bisexuality? We get one brief exchange in the middle of the 3rd episode where Sylvie and Loki compare notes from their somewhat parallel lives, and we find out that each has had “a bit of both” princesses and princes as love interests over the years. It’s the kind of safe LGBTI representation that, harmless as it is, can easily be edited out or translated to change its meaning for markets where the mere mention of same-sex attraction could ruin the commercial prospects for the entire franchise. At first, I thought that was the extent of bisexuality that Disney was willing to give us, but then I started to notice something deeper.

I’m part of a listserv called Sexnet that (other than a couple of other guests and me) is a forum for the world’s top research scientists studying sex and sexuality. A few years ago, I found myself in an online discussion there that really opened my eyes to a few things. Among these sexologists, messages went back and forth around the question, “what would you do if you woke up tomorrow and suddenly found that your body had completely changed to the opposite sex?” Most people took a humorous approach, some were quite earnest, but for me, the most interesting part of the scenario was watching how intensely sex (i.e., male and female) affected these people’s ideas about their own lives and sexuality.

I realized that, for me, if I were to wake up tomorrow in a female body, it really wouldn’t change my life that much. My (bi)sexuality isn’t limited by sex or gender, so my own sex or gender wouldn’t matter to my sexual orientation. And as for my own gender identity, I’m not attached to the concept of being male — for me, being a man is merely the societal role that is the default for the body I have. My true essence or soul (if there is such a thing) isn’t limited by sex or gender either. It isn’t about my own body or my identities.

And that’s exactly what we learn about Loki too. In episode 5, we are introduced to The Void. It’s a purgatory-like planet at the end of time where everyone whom the TVA purges winds up. And since Loki is the most often-purged being in the universe, he has many, many avatars running around The Void — all plucked from different timelines and realities. Loki also comes in child form and old man form, as well as different races, shapes, and sizes. He even has an alligator form that has become an internet sensation in its own right, AKA Croki. 

In discovering that his true nature doesn’t change — quite literally — whatever his circumstances, form, or appearances, “our” Loki gets a taste of enlightenment at the end of the season finale. No matter his shape, size, gender, age, race, or species, Loki remains Loki. His bisexuality, like mine, isn't defined by external circumstances. Loki remains bisexual in every one of his incarnations. Not enough people understand this yet, but bisexuality is an especially beautiful thing, and a big part of why is because it's all about transcendence. Seldom does a story set things up to be able to convey that transcendence so literally.

What season 2 will look like is deliberately up in the air, but I imagine it will be a rollercoaster ride with lots of twists and turns. I'm hoping that Disney and Marvel find a way to take us on a journey that isn't just action and suspense, that they find room to explore the theme of transcendence some more. They will be up against the pitfalls that the Matrix franchise fell into — which drew upon fascinating themes from the work of Jean Baudrillard and Buddhist philosophy but managed to give us little more than generic action movies in the end. But with the kind of budget and talented team of writers available to Disney and Marvel, I am hopeful they can pull it off — if they understand the beauty of their own creation.

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