TL;DR

• Comedian Mae Martin makes a bold move with Netflix’s new dark thriller Wayward.
• The series digs into the shady “troubled teen industry” with horror-comedy flair.
• Martin stars as a transgender cop facing moral and personal dilemmas in a creepy small town.
• The show explores identity, queer visibility, and mainstream acceptance.
• Martin’s visibility as a nonbinary creator is both empowering and politically charged.

Mae Martin’s Queer Turn Into Darkness

Comedian Mae Martin isn’t here to make you chuckle this fall — they’re here to scare you senseless. With Netflix’s new limited series Wayward, Martin trades their trademark self-deprecating humor for a dive into the eerie world of small-town secrets, cultish leaders, and the sinister underbelly of the “troubled teen industry.”

Best known for their semi-autobiographical dramedy Feel Good, Martin slips into darker waters as Alex Dempsey, a transgender cop who moves with his pregnant wife to the unsettlingly perfect town of Tall Pines. What starts as an idyllic relocation quickly curdles when Alex uncovers the shady goings-on at a local academy for “troubled teens.” Enter Toni Collette as Evelyn Wade, a school leader with skeletons in her closet — and possibly, in the ground.

“This doesn’t feel like a departure for me,” Martin insists. “It’s still about identity, adolescence, and yearning — just with way more blood and dread.”

Horror, Identity, and the ‘Troubled Teen’ Machine

Martin has wanted to tell a story about the shadowy world of troubled teen facilities for years, inspired by a friend’s traumatic experiences in one such program. Sleep deprivation, starvation, psychological manipulation — it was horror enough in real life, and Martin knew it belonged in a thriller.

While Alex’s gender identity isn’t hammered home, Martin threads queerness into the show’s DNA. His struggle isn’t just about crime and cult leaders; it’s about acceptance, family, and the constant push-pull between authenticity and belonging. “A lot of his yearning is connected to how he sees himself and wants to be seen,” Martin explains. That’s something queer audiences will instantly recognize, even if mainstream viewers only catch the creepiness.

The Politics of Being Seen

But Wayward isn’t just another TV show. In today’s climate, where LGBTQ visibility is treated like a political act, Martin knows the stakes. “It’s crazy that your career can be affected by political swings like that,” they admit. With conservatives and former President Donald Trump targeting queer rights, even having a trans lead can feel radical.

For Martin, it’s a double-edged sword. They want to tell universal stories about flawed, funny, complicated people — not just “issues.” But they also know their presence on-screen and behind the camera is a powerful statement. “I’d love a world where being queer on screen is just incidental,” they say. Until then, Martin’s work is both art and activism, whether they like it or not.

Why Wayward Matters for Queer Audiences

The show’s horror may be universal, but its impact is especially sharp for queer viewers. By placing a trans man at the center of a mainstream Netflix thriller, Martin chips away at Hollywood’s tendency to relegate LGBTQ characters to side roles, trauma porn, or quirky best friends. Instead, Alex is messy, heroic, and torn between his desires and his morality — in other words, fully human.

That’s the representation queer audiences deserve: characters who aren’t reduced to their gender or sexuality, but whose identities subtly shape their choices and struggles. And in a media environment increasingly hostile to trans visibility, Wayward feels like both a thrill ride and a middle finger to those who’d prefer queer voices stayed silent.

Martin sums it up best: “I’ll just keep inundating people with scripts and hope to ride it out.” For LGBTQ viewers, that persistence means survival — and, just maybe, a little vindication.