Should We Still Be Asking Actors if They’re Queer?

Generally speaking, I tend to stay away from white gay shit. I don’t listen to Gaga. I don’t watch any Housewives franchise that isn’t Potomac or Atlanta, and I’ve never seen Queer as Folk. This isn’t a rule, of course. I watched and enjoyed Netflix’s Special quite a lot. I got through all 3 seasons of Heartstopper in one sitting, and Showtime’s Fellow Travellers was a favorite for me the year it came out. I should note that while not in the foreground of the plot, all of those shows had strong POC supporting characters I found I could latch onto and who helped me see myself in the respective worlds those shows took place in.

I say all this to say; I had not intended to give Crave’s new show, now streaming on HBO Max, Heated Rivalry, a watch. The trailer did very little for me and also featured a suspicious lack of melanin for any show, of any genre, coming out in 2025. Hell, even Yellowstone has a more diverse cast than this!

Who knew they had Black AND Asian people on that show!

However, like many faggots with internet access, my feed was absolutely massacred by reviews and commentary on it upon its premiere. So, always eager to be “in” with what the kids are watching, I gave the show a shot and I have to say, I’m not sure the word “show” is really applicable so far.

Granted, as of writing, I’m only three episodes in but so far Heated Rivalry is little more than a series of gossamer thin allusions to hockey sandwiched between extended montages of overly aerobicized bodies engaging in gay sex. Which, to be clear, is fine by me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the gays having their appointment viewing erotica.

But I fear this is one of those pop culture artifacts where the discourse around the thing is more fun to engage with than the thing itself. And outside of clips featuring washboard abs, and perfectly muscled ass in shadow, the main discourse around this show seems to be a resurrection of an internet debate that gained mainstream traction back in 2022 which involved the actor, Kit Connor, star of the aforementioned Heartstopper.

See, back when the Netflix hit initially broke out, its very young cast was thrust into international fame, amassing millions of ardent fans, many of whom self-identified as queer. Fans who, as they usually are, were curious about the personal lives of the new stars and whether or not they were queer in real life as well.

Speculation about the personal lives of the teens, Connor especially, hit a fever pitch when photos of the actor and a girl began making the rounds online. Prompting fans to start accusing the actor of “queerbaiting.”

I can imagine that to an 18 year old, whose brain isn’t even fully developed, such speculation about one’s personal identity might feel overwhelming, and it was seemingly while in the throes of such feelings that Connor took to Twitter to post this:

“i’m bi. congrats for forcing an 18 year old to out himself. i think some of you missed the point of the show.”

At the time, most online came to the teenager’s defense and, without much nuance, shamed fans for launching such “attacks.” Fast forward to 2025 and, ahead of its premiere, Heated Rivalry’s show runner, Jacob Tierney, an openly gay man, seemed to think he’d get ahead of any such speculation surrounding the personal lives of his actors.

During an interview with Xtra, in response to what I feel was a decently worded question inquiring whether the stars of the show felt pressure to talk about their own personal lives in relation to the project given an overarching theme being explored in the show is the reality of being closeted, Tierney jumped in and said this:

“I’ll answer this for them. I don’t think there’s any reason to get into that stuff,” he told the reporter. “I’ll tell you something about the casting of both of these roles. You can’t ask questions like that when you’re casting, right? It’s actually against the law. So what you have to gauge is somebody’s enthusiasm and willingness to do the work.”

There’s not much in this statement to take issue with. Tierney is the show runner, and effectively, the boss on set. And I think the point he makes is one that is often overlooked when we’re having these discussions about supporting queer art from queer artists. Legal protections like Title VII, for now, still protect queer people from discriminatory hiring practices, making asking someone if they’re queer before giving them a job illegal.

But I think we all know there are ways around this. Most actors are fairly open on social media and regularly give interviews about their background, family and love lives. Figuring out if an actor coming in for a part is gay or not wouldn’t exactly require Benoit Blanc.

Following his remarks, Tierney garnered widespread acclaim online for “defending” Williams and Storrie, the series’ leads, and the social media conversation, once again, nearly without exception, appeared to reject inquiring whether performers playing queer roles are themselves queer… despite that not being precisely what transpired in this instance.

But in all the fawning, nuance, as it usually is, gets lost, and considerations surrounding something as simple as why someone would ask a question in the first place slip away.

Hollywood, despite its glittering aesthetic, is still home to people with prejudices. Even though the studios have produced more queer narratives over time, the rate at which queer actors benefit from this uptick remains debatable, especially when you consider that straight actors still hold the advantage even for those queer parts.

Can straight actors portray queer roles with depth and nuance? I'd argue yes. But I'd also argue that if that's the question you're asking, you're asking the wrong question. That question cannot exist in a vacuum. Straight actors hold the advantage and unless you're arguing they should keep it, the question is moot.

When I say: Studios should prioritize actors from marginalized backgrounds to play characters from marginalized backgrounds, I don’t think that’s a very controversial statement.

As I’ve mentioned in other pieces, the arguments of “let actors act” or “just give the best actor for the role the job” only benefit those already in positions of power who are currently getting those roles. Such arguments effectively defend the status quo, suggesting that no one needs to reassess who gets what opportunity in Hollywood. An insanely problematic point of view to hold when you consider the uneven opportunities available to anyone who isn’t a cishet, white man to begin with.

And I believe most people engaging in the current discourse would seem to at least sympathize with this stance. However, when the time comes to actually interrogate a piece of art we’re consuming as a queer collective, and whether or not it lives up to this value, apprehension always seems to surface whenever the identities of those portraying queer characters come into question. And let’s be clear, that’s all me or anyone else should actually interrogate. I don’t care who you’re fucking, if you’re a top, bottom, or vers. All anyone should care about is: are you in community with queerness?

“I don’t care who you’re fucking, if you’re a top, bottom, or vers. All anyone should care about is: are you in community with queerness?”

Because as a queer person who actively engages with and supports queer shit, I have grown very weary of platforming supposedly queer-facing, or at the very least, queer sympathetic content from creators and performers who can revoke their allyship to our community as shifting political winds make that support optional. Especially since these allies sometimes later turn out to be literal fucking super villains. (Editor’s note: J.K. Rowling recently personally attacked Qwear writer Yasmin Benoit.)

“Are you in community with queer people?” should not be a taboo or hard question to ask. In fact, I’d argue that for those of us looking to sponsor and support queer art, for us viewers, followers and consumers of queer art, it is a necessary question to ask.

Also, I tend to find it bizarre that people direct their vitriol towards fans online or journalists asking the question rather than towards the industry that would actively discriminate against a queer actor for coming out in the first place.

One of my faves, writer, Tre’vell Anderson, made a phenomenal point in their profile of trans actress, Jen Richards:

“It is simply not enough to include trans characters in a story; one must do the necessary work to be able to speak most appropriately on their issues. You can’t cherry pick the level of responsibility you want to take when the images you create and the ways you talk about them speak for an underrepresented community.”

We live in an age when multiple angles of attack target our community. Hate crimes are on the rise. In some parts of the country being trans is now illegal and discrimination isn’t. 

And in the case of Heated Rivalry specifically, hiring actors who cannot speak on the subject of closeted gay men while they literally portray closeted gay men makes close to zero sense. Imagine Adrien Brody walking around during the press tour for The Brutalist with zero insight into the holocaust to the point where his director had to step in and suggest his views on the topic don't matter. Now imagine he wasn't even Jewish to begin with.

“Imagine Adrien Brody walking around during the press tour for The Brutalist with zero insight into the holocaust to the point where his director had to step in and suggest his views on the topic don’t matter. Now imagine he wasn’t even Jewish to begin with.”

Despite this show's quality, the press tour could have at least given us a moment of conversation and reflection on the issues surrounding the closet, which still very much exists in Hollywood. Instead, with two leads unable or unwilling to field such questions, we're left with little more than endless internet chatter about men's butts. Revolutionary.

I'm not naive enough to believe that all questioning of an actor's identity stems from good intentions or will be done responsibly. I'm also not suggesting anyone "out" anyone, but rather that we should, as a community, prioritize uplifting those voices who refuse to be ashamed of standing proudly in community with us. 

This industry, probably the most visible one on the planet, makes it tricky to keep your private life private. And while incidents like what happened with Kit Conner are regrettable, I would hate to see our community wait around for Hollywood to give us authentic queer representation because fans have let shame prevent them from demanding more. Because if history teaches us anything, it's that we'll be waiting for much longer than we think.