The actors in Heated Rivalry don’t leave much to the imagination. While many viewers tuned in for the steamier shower, penthouse, or cabin scenes, some are starting to ask for more personal details. Surprisingly, they’re not asking about the characters Ilya Rozanov or Shane Hollander, but the actors that portray them, Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams. People want to know whether the actors are bisexual and gay (respectively), just like their characters. To date, neither Storrie nor Williams have disclosed their sexual orientation, though Willaims has since announced his long-term relationship with a woman. When Jacob Tierney, the show’s creator, was pressed about it, he said that there wasn’t “any reason to get into that stuff,” adding that “you can’t ask questions like that when you’re casting, right? It’s actually against the law.” We applaud Tierney’s response. Even if it were legal, we don’t think fans or reporters should ask actors about their sexual orientation.
This isn’t the first time that fans of a popular show with queer characters or relationships have asked, and then demanded, to know the actor’s sexual orientation. This desire to know partly stems from an important concern about increasing queer self-representation and avoiding inauthentic or harmful (mis)representation of the queer community. This goal is laudable, and we share it, but we don’t think that questions about an actor’s sexual orientation will help achieve it.
Whatever Storrie’s and William’s sexual orientations are, it hasn’t affected queer fans’ ability to identify with the show. Closeted professional athletes in hockey and other sports have anonymously reached out to Williams (or Rachel Reid, the author of the books on which the show is based) to express how much the show means to them. Clearly the characters are authentic enough for fans to identify with, and achieving this authenticity is no easy feat. Zach Sullivan, a professional hockey player who came out as bisexual in 2020, felt conflicted by that realism. Recognizing the characters acting out parts in his life was inspiring because it showed Sullivan what professional hockey could be like, but it was also traumatic because it reminded him of that ever-present fear of being found out.
Pressuring performers to out themselves forces closeted performers to choose between three bad options (see here for the full argument). The first option is that a closeted performer outs themselves before they are ready to, which often is traumatic. In addition to having something deeply personal about themselves forcibly made public, performers who come out with the “wrong” sexual orientation risk backlash, most obviously from bigots on social media, but also from friends and family. Although the stigma around coming out in the entertainment industry has gotten better, performers who come out risk career setbacks: Risk-adverse directors or producers may opt for a similarly talented performer who would not raise potential controversy.
The second option is for the closeted performer to take the role without coming out. But, as we’ve seen before, when curiosity turns into insistence, the performer often faces pressure to step down from the role or come out before they are ready (option one). Now, while stepping down from the role hurts someone’s future career prospects, perhaps this doesn’t seem bad if the performer was straight and is replaced by a queer actor. We think, however, that there are worrisome downstream effects that outweigh this gain. By only “allowing” queer performers to portray queer characters, this reaction effectively outs any performer who takes on a queer role. So, closeted performers who are not ready to come out would have to pass on these roles, which limits queer self-representation. But there is also a risk that if queer performers only play queer characters, this increases the chances that they will be seen as lacking the range to play straight characters.
So long as they’re not forced to step down, performers could also keep their sexual orientation a secret and simply weather the storm. Kit Connor felt pressured into coming out before he was ready to justify his role in Heartstopper. But, again, neither Connor Storrie nor Hudson Williams have disclosed their sexual orientation, despite pressure to do so. This may be the best option for performers in a wide range of cases, but it still imposes an often significant cost on the performers. Being forced out of a job or forced to come out is obviously harmful, but so is being pressured into either of these bad outcomes, even when one is strong enough to resist that pressure.
The third option is that closeted performers will simply forego the role. Not taking the role avoids the first two harmful options, but it discourages aspiring closeted individuals from pursuing a career in the entertainment industry. Seeing the demand for performers to come out and prove their “authenticity” will deter aspiring performers who wish to pursue acting while remaining closeted.
Some people might still hesitate and say that the costs from the three options are bad, but they are just the price of doing the right thing. We want to give two reasons to reconsider. One reason people find “performer authenticity” (where the performer’s identity matches the character’s identity) valuable is because they think that it best ensures “character authenticity” (where the character accurately portrays the experiences of their real-life counterparts). This view is understandable, but think about how the main characters in Heated Rivalry challenge it. Scott Hunter (character) is gay, but Francios Arnaud (actor) is bisexual. Arnaud came out as bisexual to challenge how bisexuality gets erased in both the straight and gay community as “just a phase” or “being confused.” So, even though Arnaud is not gay, nothing is lacking in his portrayal of Hunter, who is gay. Further, Ilya is bisexual, and to date, Storries has not disclosed his sexual orientation. But no one has yet pointed to any “flaws” or “tells” in Storries’ portrayal of Ilya, and nobody has raised the objection that Arnaud was miscast as Hunter. The reason is that all of the performers do a terrific job portraying the characters they play, whether or not their sexual orientation matches their character’s.
A second reason to be skeptical about this strategy is that good performers can incorporate what they have learned about from learning about the relevant lived experiences. Straight performers who take the time to talk with queer people or read about them can put those experiences into the character. This kind of research shouldn’t be limited to performers either. One possible shortcoming of the show (which Sullivan mentions) is that there are few examples of bigotry in it. There are no teammates or coaches making hyper-masculine demands to conform, no slurs coercing compliance, nor do Ilya, Shane, and Scott find themselves forced to act in these ways to keep their closet believable. Writers interviewing queer athletes at the professional, collegiate, or high school level will be in a better position to incorporate these nuances into future work. Addressing these limitations may help make future seasons and other shows better, but notice they don’t identify anything inauthentic in either lead’s performance. Doing this kind of research is actually a way to enhance queer representation by getting more queer voices in the creative process.
What ultimately matters is that these stories get told well. Whether they are depends on whether the relevant parties put in the work to produce good writing, directing, acting, editing, and everything else that goes into a production. It doesn’t, however, depend on whether a performer’s sexual orientation matches their character’s.
Kurt Blankschaen
Kurt Blankschaen is an associate professor of philosophy at Daemen University. He specializes in medical ethics, applied ethics, and LGBTQ philosophy.
Travis Timmerman
Travis Timmerman is Chair and Associate Professor of Philosophy at Seton Hall University. He specializes in ethics (normative and applied) and the philosophy of death.
