The limits of queer representation in mainstream media

Why Heated Rivalry works, and why queer representation in the media still has a long way to go

OpinionsJaiden Gales — Published February 10, 2026 0 minutes

It’s long overdue. Queer media with a happy ending is rare. I think we’re seeing such a beautiful thing with Heated Rivalry in that queer love, joy and freedom are portrayed without the usual ending of death or tragedy.

The reality right now is that queer identity is tokenized in the media (and even in real life). You see it all the time in TV and film: a queer character is present, but they don’t shape the story and don’t receive any real depth or character development. 

We have to ask: Is the majority of queer media really made for queer people?

Queer characters are often portrayed as sidekicks of sorts. Instead of putting intention and love into queer representation on screen, we get watered-down comedic foils. It feels like producers are just checking items off a DEI list: funny, gay, sarcastic lesbian. That's it, right?

While stereotypes can sometimes be hilarious inside jokes to people within our community, they cease to be funny and can veer on damaging when the humour only serves to reinforce negative biases. I can count on one hand the amount of media I’ve consumed where the queer character felt tangible.

Queer representation is often limited to a narrow, palatable version of queerness. Bisexual people are erased, trans people are left out of conversations and queer people of colour are tone-policed or pushed to the margins.

But queer love, queer history and queer stories are intersectional.

As a queer person myself, I believe that it’s better to be unseen than poorly represented by outdated, harmful stereotypes. When characters actually receive compelling inner lives and relatable struggles, queer existence can be destigmatized.

A destigmatization of queer love does not just mean airing steamy, queer sex to the masses. Heated Rivalry provides an uncomfortable societal context to the steamy scenes, and that’s what mainstream media is missing.

Popular opinions and values have shifted in recent decades, but visible queerness can still be uncomfortable for some people (ahem, homophobes) to see. So, to be profitable, a commodification of queer identity is required to be the most “digestible” to all audiences. Sex, especially through a queer lens, is uncomplicated. 

It’s “safer” for media companies to only show queerness that has been filtered through a lens of external sexual desire. This is not to mention that LGBTQIA2S+ NSFW content has been thriving on Pornhub, with queer categories being the most searched in 2025.

For too long, being queer has been framed as a hidden, secretive thing that won’t affect anyone, unless someone can turn a profit from the “specialness” of queer sexual acts. 

Screw that. Queerness gets packaged up in this neat, sexy bow on our TV screens, but in real life, living as a queer person is a different reality.

It’s not just a fight for authentic representation, but for safety within that visibility. I’ve struggled with feeling authentic in my queerness when alone in my apartment. It’s hot to go out and make out with another girl at the bar, but feeling safe to hold her hand in broad daylight the next morning is a whole different story. 

Inviting the public eye into a queer bedroom feels fun and maybe a bit scandalous, but the real truth of queer identity and joy lies in the mundanity of day-to-day life, a life lived the same as everyone else. 

In allowing truthful and authentic queer stories pride of place alongside straight stories in the media, the fear rhetoric and negative narratives around queer love and identity can begin to shift.

In the meantime, I’ll be anxiously waiting for Season 2.