The Rioting, the Reveling, and the Rejoicifying - Some Ramblings Over Recent Queer Representation in the Media: An Inspired Reflection by Chris McLaughlin, MSW, LCSW

“The best way to bring folks together is to give them a real good enemy” – The Wizard (Jeff Goldblum in “Wicked Part 1”)

If you’ve felt the intensity of conversations about LGBTQIA+ representation in the media lately, you’re not imagining it. It’s been bubbling for some time now, but the energy kicked up another notch just a week ago when, on New Year’s Eve, a brief celebratory kiss between male partners Ricky Locci and DJ Petrosino in Times Square was caught on camera during ESPN’s live broadcast. The kiss was quick and entirely unremarkable by heterosexual standards. And yet, the incident visibly flustered Scott Van Pelt, ESPN’s host for the evening. Predictably, a wave of online outrage and trolling followed, revealing just how fragile queer visibility still is in mainstream spaces. To be fair, I’d honestly give Scott Van Pelt a solid B- for his management of the situation. Yes, he fumbled the ball (see what I did there?) for a second. And, to give credit where credit is due, he also didn’t let this dominate the narrative for the rest of ESPN’s NYE broadcast. However, let me be perfectly clear here. This wasn’t really about a kiss. It was about discomfort with queer affection appearing unsanitized, unsignaled, and unapologetically ordinary. And, how dare this happen on ESPN, am I right?! Straight couples kiss on live television and on jumbotrons and “kiss cams” around the country constantly without it becoming a cultural incident (well, maybe not so true for kiss cams…. #iykyk); queer couples are still treated as if their existence requires explanation, consent, or containment. Once again, a fleeting moment was forced to carry outsized symbolic weight, not because it was provocative, but because representation remains scarce enough that any moment of Queer Joy still feels disruptive and offensive for many. And when Joy feels disruptive, it’s a sign that we still don’t have enough of it. A simple, normal, affectionate moment between two men shouldn’t be “news.” But when that kiss gets broadcast to millions and the clip subsequently becomes a viral sensation, for better or for worse it becomes visibility. The question then becomes, does queer visibility in the media still matter in 2026?

If I had a nickel for the number of times I’ve been asked over the last month if I have seen HBO’s latest television phenomenon, “Heated Rivalry”, well…let’s just say I’d be on some beach someplace warm and tropical instead of grinding away at the keyboard. And, how about that last season of Netflix’s “Stranger Things”. Y’all seen THAT episode yet (to be clear, I’m referencing episode 7 of the 5^th and final season of the hit show that has been captivating a very broad audience base since 2016)? The enthusiastic buzz surrounding Heated Rivalry and the sharp viewer disappointment tied to the most recent season of Stranger Things may look like two very different reactions, but they are, at their core, responses to the same long-standing issue.

When representation of marginalized identities in the media is scarce, every story is asked to carry far more weight than it was ever meant to hold. Queer audiences do not come to media as neutral observers. We come carrying history. In the not-too-distant past (and arguably, even now), when queer representation wasn’t erased or ignored and actually did appear in the media, it was often singular: one character, one arc, one chance to be seen. Those patterns taught generations of LGBTQIA+ viewers to pay close attention, to analyze any subtext, and to scan for either harm or hope. This was certainly the case for yours truly, a seriously closeted child of the 80’s who grew up through the frequent representation blunders and horrible tropes of the limp wristed, lispy voiced gay man who was portrayed as aloof, self-centered, and/or shallow. These guys always appeared just a bit more feminine than anyone else on the show (or for those watching it) were comfortable with. Never did I see a gay male character in TV or movies portrayed as strong or as the hero you wanted to root for. Instead, these characters were depicted as tragic (Murder Victim #3), predatory, or narcissistic or for the purposes of serving as either comic relief or as a cautionary tale. The 90’s got better with shows like “My So-Called Life” and “Dawson’s Creek”. But, for every “Philadelphia” there was an “Ace Ventura: Pet Detective”. For every “Ellen”, you also had a “The Silence of the Lambs”. The 2000’s brought more hope, yet over the last two plus decades, this conversation about LGBTQIA+ representation in the media persists with folks on both sides sometimes reveling and sometimes rioting over the portrayal of queer identities in movies and television.  

“So Chris, what’s with all the recent excitement around shows like ‘Heated Rivalry’ and ‘Stranger Things’”? Well, thanks for asking…

In her Game Changers book series, author Rachel Reid (a pen name for writer Rachelle Goguen), introduces us to the inner worlds of several hunky, masculine, and closeted gay hockey players whose story lines intersect and intertwine (literally, it seems) over several years of regular season and playoff games and even Olympic tournaments. Reid lives with her husband and two kids in Canada and has written five books in the Game Changers series with “Heated Rivalry” (2019) being the second of the series. While there’s much to be said about the interesting depictions of what, from the perspective of a cisgender, heterosexual woman, intimacy between men looks like (hairless, aggressive, and sweaty to say the least), the fact remains that “Heated Rivalry” has become one of HBO’s most successful scripted series in years. A second season has already been ordered, and the spin-off rumors have started flying. The connection and chemistry (both on screen and off whenever these two actors make the publicity circuit rounds) between Boston-based Russian team captain Ilya Rosanov (actor Connor Storrie) and Montreal standout Shane Hollander (actor Hudson Williams) has captivated millions who are already clearly chanting for “MORE”. To me, it seems as though viewers aren’t only responding to a storyline here, though. Maybe they are also responding to the rarity of seeing queer desire, intimacy, and complexity treated as THE story rather than incidental narrative side quests. After decades of limited, coded, and stereotyped portrayals of queer male relationships in the media, that legacy has now been disrupted by centering gay male desire, tenderness, emotional growth, and mutual devotion without apology. Placing this love story inside a traditionally hypermasculine space like professional sports is just the cherry on top. Actor Hudson Williams recently shared in that he’s had several closeted professional athletes reach out to him in appreciation for his on-screen portrayal of Hollander’s love affair with Rosanov and his (SPOILER ALERT) subsequent coming out story and pending “happily ever after” moments with Rosanov. Yes, my friends, this kind of representation of queer identities in mainstream media can also be lifesaving. Research done by organizations like GLAAD and The Trevor Project show us that when queer folx see themselves represented in healthy and validating ways in the media (a trend that continues to grow each year), it has a positive impact on their mental health and wellness.

At the same time, disappointment around Season 5 of Stranger Things reflects something equally important. When mainstream, widely beloved shows gesture toward queer identity, audiences also pay attention, but perhaps for the wrong reasons.  Without giving too much away here, episode 7 of Season 5 finally gives Will Byers (actor Noah Schnapp) his coming out moment to his family and friends. While this had been teased for the last few seasons, there was something about THIS moment of closure that has caused a firestorm of online criticism, hate, and discontent. Despite the screaming and crying accusations that this moment felt forced, unnecessary, or downright “woke”, like many of my fellow LGBTQIA+ siblings, I believe that this moment was not just central to Will’s character arc but also to the dominant storyline of the villain’s (Vecna) power and hold over Will since Season 1. In fact, it is this coming out moment in episode 7 that paves the way for Will, now a fully “out” main character, to become the Hero of “Stranger Things”. We finally get to see the gay kid go from being a victim of the most extreme forms of bullying by Vecna to the superhero who conquers his fears, discovers his real “powers” (his authenticity and vulnerability), and quite literally saves the day. Had the show’s creators, brothers Matt and Ross Duffer chosen, perhaps to some, the safer pathway and left Will’s sexuality more tentative, sidelined, or even completely unresolved, the full story of “Stranger Things” would have felt incomplete. And, for those of us viewers who saw some of this coming from a mile (and several seasons) away, we would have noticed.  This would have been just one more missed opportunity to tell a fuller and more transformative story of the power of owning our truth and reclaiming our worth and wellbeing. The Duffer Brothers honestly deserve high praise and appreciation for their conclusion to Will’s, and the rest of this D&D loving gang from Hawkins, Indiana, story.

“For Good”

Let’s explore one final example that successfully demonstrates the importance of queer representation in popular culture. The story of “Wicked” has long resonated with queer audiences because it centers on the experience of being marked as “different” in a world that rewards conformity. Originally written by Gregory Maguire in 1995 (a novel I absolutely gobbled up in my early college days), “Wicked” tells the story BEFORE the story of Dorothy’s adventures in Oz. In many of his novels, Maguire brilliantly imagines and reimagines origin stories of popular (“you’re gonna be POPULAR”….sorry, all!) literary villains with complex overlays of politics, religion, and psychology.  In “Wicked”, Maguire gives us the back stories of both the “Wicked Witch of the West” (Elphaba) and “The Good Witch of the North” (Glinda the Good). Gay himself, Maguire infuses themes of good versus evil within his retelling of Elphaba and Glinda’s friendship and feuds in a way that has captivated the hearts and brains of fans across Broadway shows and in theaters around the world. He also allows his own experiences as a gay Catholic man to come through in his work. In particular, Elphaba’s journey mirrors the queer experience of being “othered” and misunderstood, misrepresented, feared, and ultimately villainized not because of any wrongdoing but because of her visibility. The mere fact that Elphaba exists is enough to strike terror in the hearts of “Wicked’s” real villains, Madame Morrible and the Wizard of Oz himself. Elphaba’s refusal to contort herself to gain acceptance, even when doing so would offer safety and approval, reflects a deeply queer act of self-trust. Meanwhile, Glinda’s arc highlights the tension between belonging and authenticity in public life, illustrating how proximity to power can come at the cost of silence or complicity. We also must not downplay the plight of the animals in Oz. This storyline hauntingly echoes current headlines of systemic, government oppression and the strong anti-immigration policies of Washington DC’s current “Man behind the curtain”. Sadly, though, it’s just becoming harder and harder to pay no attention to him. But, I digress….

At its core, “Wicked” asks questions familiar to many queer people: What happens when truth threatens comfort? Who gets to decide who is “good” and who is “wicked”? In that way, the film isn’t just a fantasy. Rather, it’s a meditation on identity, resistance, resilience, and the courage it takes to live openly in a world that would rather you stay small. Solidifying “Wicked’s” place in the Halls of wonderful LGBTQIA+ representation in popular culture is the queer representation within the casting of “Wicked” Parts 1 and 2. This further sends a strong message to viewers. Among other LGBTQIA+ actors staring in the films, we see Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba, Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero, and the scene stealing Bowen Yang as Glinda’s sidekick, Pfannee, all prominently featured throughout both films. Each of these amazing actors infuse their portrayal of these characters with abundant queer energy and Joy.  

What “Wicked” helps us understand is why a single story can never be enough. Elphaba resonates so powerfully for queer audiences precisely because she carries so much symbolic weight with her difference, defiance, misrepresentation, and survival. And yet, when one character becomes the metaphor, the stakes become impossibly high. “Wicked” soars both with and because of its wonderfully queer storylines and characters. Yet, if we had even more stories like we see in “Wicked”, “Stranger Things”, and “Heated Rivalry”, characters like Elphaba, Will Beyers, and Shane Hollander would not have to hold every version of queerness. More narratives create space for contradiction, for Joy alongside grief, for characters who can be flawed without being condemned. Abundance, not perfection, is what loosens the grip of symbolism and allows representation to breathe, expand, and continue to evolve.

The Impossible Standard Placed on Queer Stories

Here’s the tension we don’t always name: Queer representation is often expected to be flawless because we don’t yet have enough of it.

Straight characters are allowed to be messy, contradictory, unlikable, boring, or forgettable. They get to grow slowly, fail publicly, and exist without symbolism, because quite frankly, there are thousands of them. Queer characters rarely get that same freedom. Instead, each one is often asked to:

• Represent an entire community,
• Avoid reinforcing stereotypes,
• Advance cultural misunderstanding,
• Heal historical harm,
• And still be compelling and interesting television

That’s not a fair ask of any single character or show. And yet, it’s a predictable outcome when representation exists in limited supply.

“We Just Need More”

It’s important that I say this clearly: critique is not the enemy of representation.

Thoughtful critique is part of care. But when reactions feel especially intense, it’s often because the LGBTQIA+ community is responding not just to this storyline but to years of longing, exclusion, and invisibility. Scarcity heightens the stakes. It turns creative choices into symbols, and symbols into flashpoints. Haters are always going to hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. Honestly, that’s OK as long as queer representation continues to grow to the point where it becomes less of a singular character or show dominating headlines and instead a sea of queer-inclusive characters, story lines, and identities of all shapes and sizes represented. As Cynthia Erivo’s Elphaba sings, “No good deed goes unpunished”.

This is why two shows can generate such different responses and still be part of the same conversation. Both are being asked, implicitly or explicitly, to help fill a gap that no single piece of media can fill on its own. What connects the conversation around the buzz of “Heated Rivalry”, the disapproval some viewers expressed with “Stranger Things”, and the enduring resonance of “Wicked” is not the quality of any single story but the scarcity surrounding them. When a single character or a single show becomes one of the few mirrors available, it is forced to carry more symbolic weight than it should. That same dynamic is at play here. “Heated Rivalry” is celebrated not just for what it is, but for how rare it still feels to see queer intimacy centered without apology. And like the flash of a same-sex kiss on a live NYE broadcast, “Stranger Things” is scrutinized and cancelled because mainstream platforms remain limited spaces where queer stories are allowed to fully unfold.

In these conversations, I often return to a moment from the 2020 Netflix documentary “Disclosure”, which remains one of the most important examinations of trans representation in film and television. Actor and writer Jen Richards names the issue with clarity and compassion and offers language that helps make sense of the tension. In “Disclosure”, she reminds us that the solution isn’t perfection. It’s abundance. “There is a one-word solution to almost all the problems in trans media. We just need more and that way, the occasional clumsy representation wouldn’t matter as much because it wouldn’t be all that there is.”

More stories mean no single character must stand in for everyone. More representation allows for all the missteps, mistakes, and contradictions without turning each creative choice into a referendum on an entire community. When representation is plentiful, it becomes less fragile, and when it’s less fragile, it becomes more human. More is not a dismissal of accountability, though. It’s a pathway to sustainability. More stories mean:

• No single character must be perfect
• No single show must speak for everyone
• No single misstep must define the landscape

Abundance creates resilience. It allows room for nuance, disagreement, evolution, and growth. Therefore, the goal isn’t about “getting it right” once. The objective here is to build a media ecosystem where queer stories are plentiful rather than precious.  In this brave new world of robust queer media representation, these characters are allowed to be joyful, flawed, tender, and complex. They can be cruel, kind, arrogant, and altruistic across a cornucopia of narratives. The invitation here is not to demand perfection from creators or from characters but to notice how scarcity shapes our reactions. Where do we feel protective? Where do we feel disappointed? Where does Joy feel disruptive instead of celebratory? Until we reach that place, these conversations will continue to surface not because audiences are merely ignorant or unreasonable but because visibility still feels novel and therefore fragile.

And when something feels fragile, we protect it fiercely.

In community until next time,

Chris McLaughlin, MSW, LCSW
Owner & Lead Consultant
Inspired Consulting Group, LLC