Izzy Hands Fans React to the Our Flag Means Death Finale

Last week, the season two finale of Our Flag Means Death aired on Max. The eight-episode season was marked by incredible acting, a mix of goofy swashbuckling and brutal nose-peeling mutilation, and an encompassing acceptance of queerness that made the first season lightning in a bottle.

For some fans, however, that bottle broke at the end of the eighth episode, when Con O’Neill’s Izzy Hands—first mate, jilted lover, and sometime serenader—was shot and killed. His death, the first major character to die in the series, sent ripples across Our Flag Means Death’s diehard fans. io9 spoke to some of those fans to try and understand why this show, this fandom, and this character elicited such a massive online reaction.

What happened to Izzy Hands?

In the season two finale, Izzy gets shot by the villainous Prince Ricky Banes (Errol Shand) and dies in the arms of Edward Teach, a.k.a Blackbeard (Taika Waititi). David Jenkins, Our Flag Means Death’s writer and showrunner, described the moment in an interview with io9 as “a lucky shot.” It’s the sort of randomly cruel brutality that often stalks pirate stories… but doesn’t usually appear in workplace sitcoms or rom-coms, and doesn’t usually happen to main characters.

Izzy dies apologizing to Blackbeard, who had assaulted him and encouraged him to commit suicide at the beginning of season two. None of the other members of the crew of the Revenge, who had become very close to Izzy over the season, say anything during his painful death. The episode ends a few minutes later with a shot of a cross made from Izzy’s prosthetic leg, and his ubiquitous ring-and-kerchief tied around the brace. Then, Ed retreats into a cabin with his lover, Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby), and a seagull lands on the beam of the cross.

Many fans—especially fans of Izzy Hands—on social media were deeply upset by this sudden death and the way that Izzy was buried, with some viewing it as as disrespectful to both Izzy’s profession and his disability. Others viewed it as a disappointing end for a character who had received such a fantastic arc on the show that focused on his happiness and growth. Another aspect that forms context for the reaction is more about the fandom itself: Our Flag Means Death has developed a surprisingly parasocial community around it—so this death felt like personal betrayal for many fans.

Why is the fandom upset?

Alyx Clifford, a licensed clinical counselor and a fan of Our Flag Means Death, had this to say about the emotions that fans are experiencing right now: “As a therapist, I work a lot with people who are experiencing grief. People assume that grief means someone they know and love has died, but people grieve all sorts of things. This absolutely includes fictional characters. Since a lot of Izzy fans identified with him for various reasons—his queerness, his disability, his struggles with mental health—when he was killed, it felt like a part of them died, too. This isn’t an exaggeration.”

Eden, an artist, told io9 that “I am very bitter about Izzy being the only character who did not get a happy ending… (Izzy) was, to me, the most important aspect of the show.” To Eden, and to many fans, Izzy represented “accepting your queerness, accepting yourself, and accepting that love comes in many forms, shapes, and sizes… accepting that we may be fucked up, but we’re worthy of love.”

Clifford explains this as well: “A study conducted at Ohio State by researcher Timothy Broom found that people use the same neural mechanics when viewing characters’ experiences as they do when they access information about themselves. So projection onto characters is a very natural thing, and when something happens to a character, our minds are wired to process that information in a very personal way.”

What did Izzy Hands mean to his fans?

In order to understand the scope of grief for this character, io9 turned to the fans. With an inbox overwhelmed with feedback, we’ve distilled these reactions to try and find a plural perspective from Our Flag Means Death’s varied fans—and there’s a lot to unpack.

Izzy Hands held a special place in many fans’ hearts as a world-weary elder gay man, watching all the younger queers do whatever they wanted without a lot of threat of consequence. Many fans io9 spoke to talked about how it was hard to find elder gay representation because of the AIDS epidemic and the lost generation of gay men. Izzy Hands represented survival in the show (even Blackbeard calls him an “indestructible little fucker” in episode two), and his death could be seen as a statement on who gets to survive in these kinds of stories. “He could have gotten the queer joy we all deserve, even those of us who look too broken, not sunny enough for kindness and joy,” said Alex, a trans man who, much like Izzy Hands in season two, also suffers from chronic pain and trauma related to abuse.

Izzy Hands was also frequently read as a trans allegory to fans. “His aesthetic, world weariness, dry humor, and the way others took him for granted captured such a specific, recognizable trans vibe that he was almost totally rendered as a gay trans man in fanworks,” said Jacob, a trans man who met his partner through the Our Flag Means Death fandom.

“I’ve never been in a fandom before where the fans and actor themselves are so welcoming of a trans headcanon. It made me feel seen and loved,” added Callum, a trans masc person. Although the series never explicitly confirmed Hands’ gender identity, the loss of a character that represented such a potential reading, one of an extremely marginalized and underrepresented gender identity not often seen on screen, was clearly a blow to a lot of fans.

The struggle to portray disability on screen

A fan named Orchid said that she wanted Izzy to live after having his leg amputated early into season 2, because “in Izzy, I see a lot of my dad’s determination to adjust, and survive, and to just go on and live.” Orchid’s father lost his leg during cancer treatment. He passed away six months ago, in his early 60s, and was just five years older than O’Neill. “I wanted to see that an amputation like that—deeply life-changing, with lots of pain and grief and frustration involved—didn’t mean that someone was marked for death.”

“I loved Izzy in season one, but in season two he felt personally connected to me in important ways,” explained V, a fan who has a degenerative genetic condition which has resulted in scarring and chronic pain in her left leg (the same leg that Izzy Hands had amputated, she noted). “He was down but not out, and his grit felt right to me, and affirming. But time and time again, disabled characters exist to advance the narrative of the abled ones. And, devastatingly, Our Flag Means Death is no exception.”

While a couple other characters are shown to have physical disabilities on the show—Lucius’ lost finger, Spanish Jackie’s prosthetic hand—none of those characters were portrayed as struggling with their disability like Izzy, or had their disability be the focus of a major character arc. At one point Izzy is forced to crawl on the ground in a scene that many fans described as painful. With his death, “it feels like what’s being said is that someone that physically damaged is expendable,” said Alex. “When the only person who is clearly fairly seriously physically disabled dies—and apparently wants to die—what does that say about people who live with disabilities and chronic pain conditions?”

Many fans also said that the ending was brutal in part because Izzy wasn’t buried with his prosthetic, which is deeply offensive to many folks who use adaptive aids. By removing his leg, which was a gift, they took away his agency. “That’s his leg, a part of his body. He should have been buried with that, not have had it ripped off his corpse and shoved in the dirt,” said Domino, a fan who was deeply disturbed by the ableism portrayed on screen.

“You know what it feels like?” V asked. “Found family, but not for cripples.”

Suicide and survivorship

Fans also pointed out that Izzy survived a suicide attempt, but was not, ultimately, allowed to survive the show. Jules, a nurse who describes herself as a “professional fangirl,” said that “the show was so careful to really use Con’s full range as an actor and give Izzy a full redemption (arc), only to make his last moments be about the development of another character. Yet again, a character with mental health issues and trauma ‘could only find peace in death,’ which is not only a dangerous trope, but also insulting to fans who relate to him on that level.”

Bones is one such fan. “As somebody who’s still actively recovering from suicidal ideation myself, who’s just started to build a community of people who support me and like being around me, I don’t think I can handle seeing a character who is a disabled, traumatized, older queer man die before he can do the same.”

“I think for me, the finale and Izzy’s death was hard to watch because I’ve struggled with mental illness, and as a trans and queer person of color I’ve always been hyperaware of the statistics of violence against LGBTQ+ (people), but also suicide,” said Cloud, who found the breakneck speed of the finale episode overwhelming. “His death felt wrong and devastating because his second life was only just beginning.”

Izzy’s arc is reflective of the arc of the entire series

Izzy was given a lot of screen time in season two, as part of what some fans saw as a redemptive arc. While during the first season Izzy was more of a secondary antagonist, season two found him starting at the very lowest he’d ever been, struggling to put himself back together. And he does, not with the help of Ed Teach–who, at one point, literally hands him a gun to kill himself with–but with the help of the crew of the Revenge. The people he had treated poorly came together, as a crew, to show Izzy the love and acceptance he had been denied.

In an interview with io9, Jenkins said that Izzy changes, fundamentally, from a person who aspires to dominate others to someone who recognizes that piracy—and this specific pirate crew—need to work together to survive. This is demonstrated over and over throughout the series as Izzy protects the crew, coaches Stede on how to be a better pirate, and shares his views with antagonist Prince Ricky about how piracy will outlast the empire.

Some fans feel as if this development is wasted when at the end of the season, Izzy doesn’t get to enjoy redemption, but is instead killed. He achieves love, acceptance, and respect—but the minute he allows himself to fully embody that, he’s murdered. For many fans, it wasn’t entertaining to watch a character who struggled so much finally get close to happiness, only for him to be killed before he can truly experience it.

This death, however, was not entirely unexpected. “(Jenkins) follows very common story lines and tropes, including season one. Izzy has always been in a bit of a different genre from the rest of the show, very much in a drama that happens to have comedic bits,” said Ashleigh, a fan who recently cosplayed as Stede Bonnet during New York Comic Con.

“I knew they were killing him when he had his speech with Ricky,” explained another fan, Reechie. “It felt final, like it always feels when they kill off queer characters in fiction—you can always tell, in a way.”

Some fans feel like Izzy’s death held a lot of meaning—but also think the fandom reaction is taking away from their enjoyment of the series. “While it was ultimately a heartbreaking moment… sometimes your favorite character just dies and we need to learn to deal with that,” said a fan named Katy, who said they “sobbed” when Izzy died.

“This season, Izzy became a highlight for me. I loved seeing him realize what he actually wanted, and then to see him actually get it was cathartic,” said another fan, Maddie.

“I ultimately understand the writing decisions made for Izzy’s death,” Eden told io9. “But in a show about love, piracy, and the community that comes along with being outcast, it’s sad to have the show kill off a character that represents so much of real life and learning to grow after toxic love, especially when that queer love was between two very flawed people.”

Kira explained that this sadness isn’t just about Izzy dying. “Part of what I am mourning here is not just a beloved character but the realization that perhaps this isn’t the show I thought it was—the one we were shown in (the episode) ‘Calypso’s Birthday,’ the one that’s about a genuinely broad and expansive vision of queer flourishing and love and community, in which no one is denied the possibility of second chances in love and third acts in life.”

It’s worth noting that certain pockets of online fandom are still very insular spaces—especially on a platform like X, formerly known as Twitter. The loudest Our Flag Means Death contingent on the social media site can become an echo chamber for the fans who gather there. As an example, a post about Izzy’s death on X made by an account with less than 2,000 followers has over one million views at the time of writing this article. So while the reaction to Izzy’s death was certainly passionate, it might be unfair to say it speaks to a majority of Our Flag Means Death viewers. On the Our Flag Means Death Reddit page, for example, there isn’t quite the outpouring of grief seen elsewhere. And while the season two finale might signal a breaking point for certain fans, for many more, this was an enjoyable episode, despite the tragic twist.

Our Flag Means Death is a parasocial fandom

Complicating this perceived narrative dissonance is the fact that Izzy Hands was an extremely divisive character within the fandom, and over the past year or so, some fans were harassed for simply expressing their fondness for the character on social media. Those fans, who call themselves the “Izzy Canyon,” finding community through coded sentiment was a way to avoid hatred and harassment. “I believe that a very large part of the mourning is community-centric, in that the Izzy Canyon has had to continuously fight to be even allowed to exist within the fandom,” said Leo, a fan active on X.

At least one fan, who asked to be called Kelsey, as her full name has been used to harass her previously, was doxxed, and eventually fired from her job at a movie theater due to anonymous complaints alleging online harassment, because other fans disapproved of fan fic she shared online featuring Hands. io9 reviewed publicly available screenshots that corroborate this story, and one of the X accounts responsible has since been deactivated for violating Twitter’s Media Account Policy.

As its showrunner, Jenkins has not only been involved in the Our Flag Means Death fandom, but has done numerous interviews that many people have spread as gospel within the fandom. Speaking to Verge last year about queerbaiting, Jenkins, who identifies as straight, said “I didn’t realize—because I see myself represented on camera, and I see myself falling in love in stories—I didn’t realize how deep the queer baiting thing goes. Being made to feel stupid by stories, I guess.”

He continued, “Looking at how people were kind of afraid to let themselves believe that we were doing (a gay romance) was a surprise to me, and it’s heartbreaking. I understand it much better now, and it’s like, oh, you were made to feel stupid by a bunch of shows—unintentionally, by and large, I think—but made to feel like ‘maybe I’m going to be up there. Maybe that’ll be me in this story.’ And then at the end of it feeling like, ‘Aw. No, it’s not me. I’m not in this one.’ That fucks with you at any age.”

This kind of commentary has only lead some fans to feel all the more aggrieved by Hands’ death. “I’d say the betrayal felt by the fandom who personally put their heart into Jenkins’ hands far outweighs the devastation of Izzy dying,” said Fraxinus, a trans man in the fandom. “Normally queer fans go into shows with little to no expectations. This is I think the first example of queer people going into a show with full trust only to have it ripped away.”

“I loved Our Flag Means Death because I believed it was kind at its core. To me, the ethos of the show was that it’s never too late for a second chance at life,” Callum added. “Having that framed through a queer love story made it even more poignant. How often do we get to see that? So to see Izzy blossom like that then have him killed off pointlessly and poorly was cruel. For many of us, seeing an older queer man not only survive but thrive mattered.”

Jenkins, and the other myriad writers on the show, many of whom are queer themselves, wrote what they thought was the best story possible. Our Flag Means Death is their show, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with an artist presenting their art in a certain way. But fandom is in itself about watching, experiencing, and iterating on what might become a totally different show, because that’s how fandom works.

It’s worth remembering at times like this that all fandoms outlive their source material. Izzy Hands died at the end of season two, but, as Jenkins said on X the day it premiered, “there’s no version of this show that doesn’t include Izzy Hands.” Our Flag Means Death had two seasons of Izzy Hands, and that’s not going away. The death doesn’t erase the canon of the show, and while fandom might divide itself over this finale, the fact that the Our Flag Means Death fandom is so passionate about this show is an incredible, noteworthy thing.

Not too long ago, fandom wasn’t considered culture by the larger forces in media; it was a niche sub-subgroup of consumerism. Now, fandom is everything and everywhere. Communities built around gemeinschaft media relationships are the most marketable part of a product. A decade ago stories about community beyond the spectacle of its mere existence wouldn’t be seen on a traditionally published news site like io9; it would have been relegated to citizen journalists and archivists on LiveJournal, fandomwank, or even as a piece of meta posted on the Archive of Our Own. But fandom has become so much a part of our culture that it’s important to talk to viewers about their passion and report on its relationship to the media we consume seriously and meticulously.

Fandom, in all its plurality of perspectives and in all the complexities it holds, is the indestructible little fucker that will never, ever die. This is a cultural creature, a thing made up of more than its parts, hurt and put together, and beloved. And while Izzy Hands might have met an end that some find unsatisfying, the fact that we’re here, talking about it at all, is something that I don’t think we can discount so easily.

There are no wrong perspectives here; a plurality of perspectives is what make up a community. But Hands’ death is a cultural flashpoint for the Our Flag Means Death fandom—one born out of a show that has become an unlikely critical success. It’s moments like this that make or break fandoms. Death, even fictional death, even metaphorical death, can undo the fabric of any community. As cultural critics and as fans ourselves, it’s important to know what parts of that community we are willing to mend, and what parts we are willing to patch onto a new flag.

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