MsMojo Can Fix It: Rewriting Che Diaz's Story on And Just Like That
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VOICE OVER: Rebecca Brayton
WRITTEN BY: Tyler Allen
And just like that, Che Diaz became everyone's least favorite character. Welcome to MsMojo, we're here to fix some of TV and film's most disappointing characters and storylines that could have been great. Our video includes Che, Miranda, Carrie, and more!
MsMojo Can Fix It Rewriting Che Diaz Story on And Just Like That
Welcome to MsMojo, we’re here to fix some of TV and film’s most disappointing characters and storylines that could have been great. Today, we tear into the oh-so-irritating Che Diaz!
When “Sex and The City” revival “And Just Like That” debuted Che Diaz, fans were delighted by the inclusion of a non-binary character who would be integral to the plot. But like Carrie’s beloved Manolo Blahniks, Che’s character came at a big cost. The series was quickly derided for falling flat and paling in comparison to the original, with Che serving as a big reason for the downward spiral. By the time the curtains closed on Season 1, countless thought pieces about the character had come out, with some even calling Che a “creep” and “absolute chaos.” So how did they earn the title of “TV’s most hated character?” And with the news about Che’s character in Season 3, is there any hope for redemption at all? We’re here to break down what went wrong with Che, how the show attempted to reclaim them, and what it would truly take to fix their faulty story in our own headcanon!
We’re introduced to Che as Carrie’s plucky boss and podcast co-host. The confidently queer stand-up comedian seems like a perfect addition to the cast—someone with a unique point of view who can indulge the audience in today’s revolutionized perspectives on gender and sex. After all, “Sex and The City” was historically lauded for its radical depiction of sexuality through a female, gendered lens. But Che’s character takes an almost immediate nosedive, being set up as a cartoonishly obnoxious personality that even the practically universally disagreeable Carrie Bradshaw is tripped up by. Che carries themself with an air of arrogance, ripping into Carrie’s performance on the podcast and insisting she isn’t raunchy enough. And this seems to be Che’s brand of humor throughout the show: unabashed raunchiness.
Even though characters constantly proclaim: “Che is funny!” we see very little good evidence of this, which actually hurts their characterization even more. At Che’s comedy show, there’s more emphasis on wall-breaking and less on the actual comedy. They tell both the audience watching their special and audiences at home that: “Some people have no idea how to understand gender individuality because every time we’re represented in media we have to be from some other galaxy.” An ironic statement given how unrealistic Che’s portrayal of a non-binary person can be (more on that soon)! They go on to break down how non–binary characters are so often depicted as secondary tokens in other people's stories, which they (and by extension, the show’s writers) aim to change. Yet in a nearly instant confirmation of the cliches being highlighted, it becomes obvious that Che’s deeply personal coming out bit isn’t designed to teach us about their backstory, but to impact teary-eyed main character Charlotte, who’s dealing with her own child’s queer emergence. And then the camera pushes in on queer-coded Miranda, as she resonates with Che’s words: “Better to be confused than to be sure”. It’s a swift reminder that Che is ultimately just a supporting character there to influence the growth of our starring ladies. And although the monologue seems to be really just the writers speaking through Che about how they intend to correct stereotypical queer portrayals on screen, what we get instead is an over-correction— resulting in a wholly unrealistic caricature of what a hyper-woke queer person might look like according to a garbled Chat GPT output.
This ultimately unfunny character loses major relatability points and sort of comes off like that “being from another galaxy” they pushed against. It’s safe to say that Che’s message is lost in translation when it’s asserted in such an unnatural manner that comes across as soapboxing. This immediately sets the tone that Che is less a real character in the show’s world and more a tool for the series’ writers to atone for the problematic sins of “Sex and the City”. While it was progressive and innovative in so many ways, the original series did commit a lot of the offenses Che drones about, particularly when it came to its minority and queer characters. So if “And Just Like That” is meant to be a modern take on out-of-touch upper class Caucasian women navigating a changing world, then Che is the designated pundit for said change. But in Season 1, that’s all Che is, which comes at the cost of making Che incredibly grating. Che’s inhuman way of speaking even rubs off on other characters as they try to fit themselves into this hyper-diligent, self-editing box. In these moments, the only real comedy is coming from how laughably absurdist this can come off as.
Unfortunately, the dialogue is only the beginning of Che’s problems—Che may be considered quite an immoral person, which is made even worse by the fact that they’re initially presented as morally righteous. So many of their actions seem to work against this constructed image of Che as a warrior for social justice. Even if they’re performatively fighting for a community of people while on-stage, they seem to have no issue hurting or manipulating people on an individual level. Whether it be offering Miranda’s underage son an illicit substance or seducing and kissing a married Miranda before ghosting her… just to then profess their love for her and suddenly move away to California, Che isn’t exactly likable.
The end result is a fairly muddied and inconsistent character who appears to be motivated by a haughty sense of selfless virtue, while simultaneously self-indulging to unhealthy degrees. In a scene where Che and Miranda discuss the weight of their relationship, Che seemingly refuses to take any responsibility for their role in Miranda’s affair, stating they believed she was in an open marriage, despite neither of them ever asking for confirmation of this. And while Miranda professes the profoundly upsetting concerns she has about their fling, Che goes into self-preservation mode, villainizing Miranda as the guilty one even though they came on to Miranda. All of this is in pretty stark contrast to Che’s uplifting rally speech just moments before. So when Che tells Miranda “I’m a lot of things but I’m not a home wrecker,” perhaps those other things include: selfish, duplicitous, and/or phony.
What’s most upsetting about Che’s Season 1 arc is that the writers essentially betrayed what they claimed to be their principles by creating a stock non-binary character who’s both a walking stereotype and a negative force in the story. Che is effectively introduced as a loud-mouth radio host with unmediated access to an annoying soundboard and essentially becomes that annoying soundboard for the writers, serving as nothing more than the mouthpiece for the show’s newfound “promise” to better represent queer characters. Unfortunately, this just isn’t a promise the show makes good on.
As Season 1 wraps up, Miranda severs ties with her husband and proclaims her love for Che, having fully bought into their self-aggrandizing image and basically becoming a devout Che Diaz groupie. This is a pretty disappointing turn in Miranda’s story for many fans. Once known as the spunky and wise one of the group, Miranda now has a Che-shaped cloud hanging over her. So while this story of her sexual awakening and coming out could have been great, it’s weakened by the fact that the one she’s pining over is… quite unlikeable, even hateable.
So, how can we fix Che’s characterization? First, it’s important to acknowledge precisely why Che’s character desperately needs fixing beyond the script. In reality, many people don’t know a single non-binary person and base their idea of them on what they see in media - as Che explained at their stand-up special. This is why representation is massively important, and that’s not to say this representation has to be in the form of a squeaky-clean, lovable individual. Queer characters can and should be messy or even unlikable at times because this is true of human nature: the key word being human. Where Che falls flat is that they aren’t presented as a real human at all… thus, the crux of what needs sprucing up!
It would be unfair to say that all of Che’s Season 1 arc was a total flop. In one scene, Che and Miranda dig into the power dynamics of their relationship during a healthy and frankly enlightening discourse. In another tender moment, Che introduces Miranda to the concept of “found family,” exploring a true tenet of queer culture. These are the aspects of Che (and Miranda) that the writers needed to home in on and flesh out. These moments worked because they touched on something real, and reflected back the experiences of viewers at home.
After the negative backlash to Che in Season 1, their character did get some fixing up in Season 2. When we’re reintroduced to Che, they’re trying on costumes for their new show and are sarcastically leaning into the parody of a non-binary person they’d been depicted as thus far. It’s as if the writers are immediately telling us, “Okay, we heard your cries. You were right.” But in this scene, we do also get a glimpse into the realities of how conforming your presentation can be harmful as Che is forced to push back against the Hollywood stylist's wardrobe choices that don’t align with their identity. This moment puts aside the psychobabble jargon we’re used to hearing with Che and puts them in a very truthful scenario. And this alone almost subconsciously teaches us more about the lived experiences of non-binary people than all of Che’s quips we’ve heard before. It’s the classic cinematic case of show, don’t tell. As audiences, we’re far more impacted by a character's story onscreen when we are shown something they go through and endure it with them, as opposed to them just telling us about it on their podcast or at their stand-up routine. And this is precisely the human element Che’s character has been lacking.
From there, there’s almost a full reversal in Che’s dynamic with Miranda. While Che served as a means of influencing Miranda’s change in Season 1, the roles are flipped in Season 2. We interrogate Che’s interiority more as they become increasingly frustrated with their inability to manage the pressure from their Hollywood team. Meanwhile, Miranda has just become the annoyingly clingy girlfriend who’s now influencing Che’s growth. The Hollywood exec’s pressure to present a certain way at a certain weight is getting to Che and we’re finally getting to see their facade crack. In another key scene, Tony Danza cherrypicks the parts of Che’s identity that the network feels Che should be highlighting, once again showing how hurtful it is for a non-binary person to be labeled and disregarded. In a staged coming-out scene, Che is brushed aside by their “father” in a bit played for laughs. The showrunners' satisfaction with the bit highlights how Che’s entire humanity is being summed up and presented for them, again reinforcing the realities of gender-queer people.
From here, Miranda and Che’s relationship crumbles under the immense pressure they’re both under, leading to a rather awkward swan song for Che. So, how can the series take Che’s character to new heights in Season 3? Well, they won’t… because actor Sara Ramirez who portrays Che on the show has officially exited, with sources claiming Che’s story came to a “natural conclusion” as their relationship with Miranda ended. But this seems like it might be a cop-out because one character’s story shouldn’t just completely end because their relationship with another character ended. It almost sounds as if we’re no longer interested in Miranda’s relationship with Che, we’re no longer interested in Che… period. It goes back to the main issue with Che in Season 1: the writing gave them no room to breathe or to be an authentic individual. And the revisions to Che’s story in Season 2 should have really existed from the start.
In our headcanon, Che can present their perspective to us through interactions with the people in their life, rather than just with the main ladies. Perhaps we meet Che’s parents, an ex or someone who can offer a deeper understanding of where Che is coming from. Perhaps Che can actually be funny and articulate their grievances with the world in a digestible manner. Che can still be a flirt and sleep around, but will ultimately own the more opportunistic aspects of their personality instead of seeming to refuse any accountability. By making Che complex instead of entirely unlikable, we can root for them at times and get annoyed by them in others. But ultimately, by letting Che be human, we can respect their character and actually look forward to the scenes where they’re on screen. The initial reaction to Che’s inclusion was excitement, and the character was certainly never intended to be hated. So for the writing to actually celebrate Che, they should have had more time to explore the intricacies of being non-binary from the start of the series. Che even admits that journey is never really over, so introducing us to a totally self-assured Che didn’t service anyone. They deserved opportunities to stumble and fall, but to get back up and prove themself to be a decent human being. And when Che’s relationship with Miranda ends mid-way through Season 2, Che should continue to develop as an individual instead of then just becoming a friendly voice for Carrie to bounce jokes off of. Ultimately, Che’s most satisfying Season 2 conclusion would have involved a set-up for where Che’s career can go from here. During the two-part finale, characters sit around straight-faced while enduring another uncomfortably raunchy and humorless stand-up routine. So to stick the landing in our version of “And Just Like That”, Che is not only at last free from their taxing and limiting Hollywood show, but also finally embracing the initial tenets of their moral values: living out loud and telling their authentic story. Even if it makes them messy at times, at least it makes them human.
Sound off in the comments below to let us know how YOU felt about Che’s character and story arc. Are you elated or disappointed that they won’t be back in Season 3?
