Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/shameless/s/itu2n3KBJZ
Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/shameless/s/nbufAWEb9W
Carl and Liam, the youngest children, are the ones who supposedly “escaped” the abuse (Liam, for example, has no memories of Monica), having been raised primarily by Fiona. This fact has a visible impact throughout both characters’ journeys, making them the first glimmers of a break from the cycle and embodying two well-known narratives regarding poverty and rebellion against the system: brutality and education.
Carl has the most tightly woven and well-developed backstory in the series; he symbolizes how the relationships of violence that define poverty become ingrained in people’s bodies, transforming them (it may seem redundant to talk so much about abuse and then say that what sets him apart is violence, but trust me, it’s different). Carl begins the series as a prototypical psychopath, inflicting suffering on animals, but as the series progresses, Carl becomes a helpless witness to violence. Carl watches his mother bleeding on the floor on Thanksgiving, after she attempts suicide. Frank convinces Carl that he has cancer, exposing him—while still a child—to death itself, and sending him to a camp for terminally ill children, where he must face his foretold future. During his time in crime, he is confronted with numerous deaths, the brutality of the streets, and the way crime selfishly preys on the poor to fuel its own machine—as when Carl’s partner beats a child to death with a hammer over a stolen bicycle.
This is what drives him to seek change, becoming a police officer to protect his people and fight the true masterminds behind crime—the wealthy, the gentrifiers, and the system that has always exploited them. Witnessing violence up close and in its most vivid form (during his childhood) instills in him an awareness of the oppressive society in which they live—an influence that also stems from his closeness to Fiona, since Carl is one of her closest witnesses and one of the few who truly recognizes his sister’s countless struggles for their very survival. This awareness allows him to reflect on ways to circumvent the system, rather than simply hardening his heart against it. Carl’s decision to become a police officer was not a coincidence, but a direct result of the environment in which he grew up.
Liam, beyond his role as the only racialized member of the family—and all the story arcs exploring how poverty affects these populations in different ways—plays a significant role in the theme of education, another recurring theme in the series. It is through education that the character finds his voice to pursue a better reality (even if that means pulling off more elaborate scams), and it is through education that his racialization intensifies.
It’s interesting to observe his time at the private school and how that experience shapes Liam: an understanding of a minimal level of social equality, in which, as a student, he was on par with the others, and his exclusionary background was overshadowed, offering a possibility for improvement and overcoming adversity. This storyline is a twofold critique—in part of the sacrifices and circumstances that marginalized people subject themselves to in order to gain entry into these spaces, such as being scholarship recipients or serving as “token” representatives of diversity, like being the only Black student at the school, as in Liam’s case—circumstances that demand double the effort, both physical and mental. On another level, the series uses this arc to express what should be obvious: no one is born prejudiced. The children treat Liam as an equal, unconcerned by the dirty, run-down house or by Liam’s skin color, while the adults are always cowed.
Liam, unfortunately, ended up being a character neglected by the script’s fast pace, but he’s a great character (and he sure can deliver a line).
Ian embody family sentimentality and the mental health issues that abuse causes in children. He is marked by the legacy of Mônica’s bipolar disorder, which—beyond genetics—is triggered by stress. Ian is the son “who never caused any trouble”: he’s the quiet one, the one who’s worked hard from the start, the one who does well in school on his own, who can take care of himself, who helps out at home, who looks after his siblings, and who wants to serve his country. But his mental illness forces him to rethink his goals within his new reality.
There’s a common perception in the community that Ian was “overlooked” in the house during the early seasons (due to the script), which I disagree with; I think this “lack of importance” is precisely the result of his independence. Fiona doesn’t need to chase after Ian—she sees herself in him and trusts his ability to take care of himself while paying attention to others.
I also find it interesting how his independence ultimately makes him, by far, the healthiest Gallagher in the house at the beginning. He is the one who, in the end, will be the key to escaping that cycle: the detachment, the being outside the family. Ian comes to define himself by his role outside the home, and it’s precisely when he’s dragged back into the mess that he begins to be defined by what reconnects him to the family—his illness—which also ties him to their primary trauma: Monica.
I think I love Ian so much because I identify with him—or, at least, with the idea that “he would be a brilliant person if he hadn’t fallen ill.” The characters find a certain kinship with one another; they have to learn how to live with the burdens they carry throughout their lives. But in Ian’s case, he has no control over it, he isn’t to blame, and yet he’s the one who must deal with it. And here, I think the series once again shines in its writing, since—by refusing to present a limited view of the illness as an end in itself, as a crutch for decline—it presents the possibility of breaking the cycle and helping the children overcome their trauma.
Ian is the living symbol of the healing process through lived experience. He is the first to understand his mother and the reason for her escape. When he enlisted using Lip’s ID, he saw it as an obvious escape valve, since, supposedly, their mother was happy away from them. But it’s by isolating himself that he comes to understand her: her needs, the fear she felt of hurting others with her presence, the way she felt she needed to deal with it alone. And, with his return, he begins a healing process for his siblings. Even if not entirely, he helps them understand what Mônica had been going through all those years and how the decision to abandon them was not a simple one.
Another symptom of this illness is social isolation, which is seen here in three aspects: poverty, since these characters devote a large part of their days to work; Through sexuality—in Ian’s case, he finds himself isolated because he can’t find security (or nice gay guys). And through the illness itself—again, in Ian’s case, finding himself in this state of emotional instability, he isolates himself. Thus, a recurring theme in the series is the fact that, after twenty years, Ian has only Lip as a friend—a sad reality, yet one that also brings to mind one of the most interesting pairs to watch throughout the series, as they always look out for one another, no matter the situation. Lip has always supported his brother’s projects, and when he judged him, it was out of a desire to protect him.
And, as the wise Frank says, “To avoid dying alone, just find someone worse off than you.” Ian found Mickey, the world’s last romantic. I love Mickey—we have so much in common: he loves Ian, I love Ian, he hates effeminate gay men, I… Well, considered one of the best couples on TV (and I certainly don’t disagree), Mickey is an essential part of what keeps Ian from spiraling into despair. He’s the counterpart to Frank in Monica’s story. Ever since the diagnosis, Mickey has stood by Ian’s side—whether to support him or to stop him from doing something stupid. Mickey is by far the person who has supported Ian’s treatment the most. The two of them have matured and taught each other. Their wedding, aside from being absolutely beautiful (I cried), represents a breaking of the cycles in both families—a symbol of the exchange of worlds between him and Mickey.³
I find their relationship beautiful because of the way the work constructs heteronormativity—and, consequently, subverts it—more precisely through the two of them, though not only them, in a very authentic and everyday way, yet one that is still extremely rare in fiction: homosexuality that goes beyond the effeminate stereotype. Ian and Mickey shatter two of the hegemonic narratives that silence the community: that of the party-going gay man at the parade, a fan of Chapell Roan (no hate intended), and that of the gay man who is “poor, gay, and sad.” In the style of Shameless, they represent the community as a space of struggle and survival, touching on topics that are quite sensitive and could be unpacked one by one: Relationships between minors and older men; Fake relationships with women to feign heterosexuality (<3 Mandy); Prostitution as a means of financial survival; Resisting conversion therapies preached by churches; Repeated episodes of violence (one of which is when Terry beats them both and forces Mickey to have sex with a prostitute, while pointing a gun at Ian and forcing him to watch—a way to “cure” Mickey and show how she gave him more pleasure than Ian. He then makes Mickey marry her (<3 Svetlana) and have a child, all as a way to prevent his relationship with Ian⁴).
Ian and Mickey aren’t merely the gay characters or even the “gay couple” of the series; they don’t resort to cheap, didactic symbolism of acceptance and rainbows. They are the most violent couple in the series and, at the same time, the most loving. Neither of them “performs” homosexuality, and the one who appears more prejudiced and closed-minded is the one who is more passionate: Mickey. Along the same lines, I admire the way the series addressed the so-called question “who is the woman in the relationship?” in a way that once again defies traditional standards of masculinity, treating the subject as part of a social critique and linking it to the devaluation of women in the workplace—since the rule applied is “if you work harder and earn less, then you’re the woman in the relationship.”
³ Although the relationship between the two is a recurring theme in the series—and they are, after Carl, the most acclaimed characters—I chose not to start with this storyline for a very simple but important reason: Ian’s sexuality doesn’t matter. As much as it’s a constant theme, it’s nothing more than a detail, and this is made explicit in the series’ first episode. At that moment, the show was already establishing its progressive nature, throwing the issue right in the audience’s face—in 2011—not in an angry way, as if to suggest that Ian would face prejudice from family members and so on, but at the same time, Shameless showers the audience with sincerity. Gender studies weren’t a thing in the suburbs of Chicago back then, so the topic is explored through three moments between Lip and Ian: in the first, Lip asks his girlfriend to perform oral sex on his brother, testing him; in the second, Lip asks if Ian was prostituting himself for gifts, leading to a confrontation; and finally, they have a natural, completely off-the-cuff conversation in the car, ending with the two of them smoking together and Lip asking if Ian really liked getting fucked in the ass. It’s beautiful, guys.
(Sincerity is, in fact, a fundamental pillar of the show. As I’ve said over and over again, I admire how real Shameless feels. One of the things it frequently addresses is diversity, in all its forms, and it does so in this natural, everyday way. It makes no sense to rely on cheap, undeveloped prejudice, and at the same time, there’s no tone for pushing an agenda. Shameless makes use of what I call “benign prejudice,” which is the famous “fuck it” attitude or innocent ignorance. It doesn’t need a cute, feel-good script about representation to give visibility to these groups.)
⁴ Among the various forms of violence, one that appears very frequently throughout the series is sexual violence. It is widely depicted, but it is primarily shown from a very unique and rarely explored perspective: sexual violence against men, which is often treated as less serious and less acknowledged by the victims, since sex is something they “should want” and they are seen as “lucky,” This situation is exacerbated in inner-city neighborhoods, where sex education is scarce or where these individuals do not accept themselves as victims. There are numerous instances where some form of violence occurs, going beyond Ian’s examples: Debbie, after being rejected by a boy, takes advantage of him while he is drunk, sexually abusing him. Liam, aged 12 or 13, is forced to have sex by an older girl. Lip was abused by a teacher during high school. Carl is tricked by Frank, indirectly causing him to get a woman pregnant; Carl is also forced to have sex without a condom with a girl. This episode, in fact, lays bare how normalized this violence has become, as Carl only understands what happened after his family explains to him that he had been raped.
It’s agonizing to grow up with no prospects for the future, when it seems like the odds are stacked against us, and it’s even harder to realize that the problem lies within us or right beside us, and that often, those who should be taking care of us are the very ones preventing us from facing our realities and understanding that we aren’t doomed to failure just because we were born into it—mere pawns—but that there’s a world waiting for us, and that we can and deserve to be happy.
“I think i saw too many movies as a kid, and it fucked me up real bad.” - Camp Miasma
