Queerial: what on earth is making everyone queer? "You might be doing it right now"

09 Mar 2025. by Drew Rowsome -Photos courtesy of The Sonar Network

Trevor Campbell's You Made Me Queer! universe is expanding with Queerial, a podcast investigation into just "what on earth is making everyone queer?" Consumed with curiosity, I had to do some further investigation of my own, and got some clues from Campbell himself.

Drew Rowsome: The first episode, which is hilarious, is frontloaded with effortless exposition but, for the benefit of luring in listeners, without spoilers, when and how did you first uncover the conspiracy?

Trevor Campbell: Queerial's mystery kicks off with a brick thrown through the window of my rented office. The matriarch of a special interest group called One Bajillions Moms has reached out to me to look into a mysterious incident at the public library. After I've calibrated my assistant — a royalty-free AI-powered speaker on wheels — I start chasing my first lead.

What, aside from the stylish fedora, drew you to the noir format?

Trevor Campbell: Noir is a heavily moralizing genre. The flawed protagonist, doomed romances, subjective interpretations of justice, and deep rooted corruption. All of these orbit the idea of unforgivable sin, which sits at the heart of queer moral panic. Noir is often riffed on in comedy because the references are so distinct: dark wit and wordplay, slow burns with sudden sparks of action, and a whole slew of mysterious figures slinking into frame. How could I pass that up? Plus, a mystery provided a great framework for a limited series: however absurd things get, the audience expects a satisfying resolution. But honestly, yes, the stylish fedora played a big part. Shoutout to my brother who bought it for me at a flea market in New Brunswick.

Noir and true crime often have queer subtexts. How do you feel you balanced the demands of the genre while maintaining a queer ur-text?

Trevor Campbell: The hard-boiled detective is a lonely outcast — an archetype that a lot of queer people can relate to — and their world is full of fabulous misfits with wild fashion and wacky names. I thought that using the genre as a vehicle for satire would keep the series feeling camp, no matter how "straight" some of the interviews are. I could lean into or away from the genre to course correct and keep things feeling tonally aligned.

After 11 episodes, do you think you have a handle on “what on earth is making everyone queer?” And how can we help in that righteous endeavour?

Trevor Campbell: Without giving anything away, I can tell you that I conclusively uncover the root cause of queerness before the series fades to black. And it's something anyone is capable of. In fact, you might be doing it right now.

What advice do you have for creating a conspiracy theory?

Trevor Campbell: Start with a hunch. Don't research it. Just go with your gut. Share it with a few people until it circles back to you in a way that reinforces your original, unresearched idea. Drag in all your biases: recency bias, confirmation bias — try a little bit of everything. Cherry-pick anecdotes that support your theory and ignore all of the other ones. Let this idea guide all of your major life choices: job, friends, partner, politics, etc. Then, when it's ultimately proven wrong, drag in an infallible higher power as your star witness and then go to the grave refusing to back down from an arbitrary decision that made life hell for an already-marginalized group of innocent people who were just trying to mind their own business and live their lives. And if you're looking for a central text, grab one of the pseudo-science books at the airport.

What is the most outrageous conspiracy theory you encountered? 

Trevor Campbell: I spoke with a woman who is absolutely convinced that there are aliens living in Denver.

How did you choose the interviewees, the "suspicious?"

Trevor Campbell: My original plan was to record one interview at a time. Based on what that interviewee told me, I'd decide who to interview next. From a production standpoint, I quickly realized this would be impossible as it would take way too much time to schedule my interviewees. I realized I needed to schedule them as quickly as I could if I wanted to get the show to the finish line in a reasonable amount of time. As themes started to materialize, I reached out to all kinds of "experts" who fit the bill, which ultimately proved to be much more interesting. Once I had enough to fit the series — the magic number ended up being 41 — I shuffled them all and wrote a plot that connected them all with a satisfying narrative build. I just followed the lead of the pearl-clutching queer conspiracy theorists: the more I had to shoehorn the facts to fit my agenda, the better.

Which one did you find the most surprising?

Trevor Campbell: Honestly, every single interviewee surprised me. From a sheer trivia perspective, I couldn't believe some of the stuff I uncovered. And no matter how many questions I'd prepared in advance, my secret weapon was: "Anything else?" It's amazing how often the thing people slip in at the very end of a conversation can completely flip the table. I spoke to two Australians who fed me completely contradictory information about their country. I still don't know which one I trust.

Is your rapid-fire narrating style derived from noir or podcasts or stand-up or your own metabolism? How did you keep up the pace over 11 episodes?

Trevor Campbell: I think it started from a place of panic. One of the conventions of noir is "protagonist as narrator." Queerial is shared with the listener through a series of cassette tapes, in which I'm both the overdubbed narrator and the show's lead detective. Which is all to say: I talk a lot. I used the fast-talking style of noir to pull the listener into the story and create a sense of contrast between the scripted scenes and the interviews where the action slows down. 

What do you most enjoy about working in the podcast format?

Trevor Campbell: If I wrote Queerial for film or theatre, everything I imagined would have a price tag. Props, sets, costumes — everything is so expensive. With podcasting, I can create a sense of theatre without having to budget my imagination. Plus, I hate selling tickets and podcasting has no seats.

Will you, as you did with You Made Me Queer!, be adapting to other mediums? Merchandise?

Trevor Campbell: I think Queerial's script makes for a pretty good read all on its own. I have plans to publish it later in the year. I'm also working on a way to adapt the idea to the stage. As I said, I hate selling tickets but fortunately I'm a masochist.

What ambience do you suggest for optimally consuming Queerial?

Trevor Campbell: Look through the horizontal blinds of your filthy office. Take a sip of lukewarm coffee. As soon as you hear a knock on the door, press play.

What, as a full-time queer, part-time detective, is your next case?

Trevor Campbell: I think Queerial has a very satisfying finale, but I've left the door open for two new stories. One is a prequel: the disaster in Peach Springs that nearly ended my career. The other is a sequel: a mysterious case of some missing people... who aren't people. Not quite.

At this point I'm kicking myself that I didn't ask, "Anything else?" No matter, Campbell will still get in the last word and one last thought.

Trevor Campbell: Thanks, Drew! And be careful out there, things are getting queer.