In 1997 Ellen DeGeneres appeared on the cover of Time alongside the headlining quote: “Yep, I’m Gay.” Her coming out was a media frenzy. There was a big Oprah interview and then 42 million people tuned in to watch the coming out episode of her then sitcom. It’s almost 25 years later and while a celebrity coming out publicly is still a big, splashy deal, a lot has changed. Last week, former Bachelor contestant, Colton Underwood, came out as gay in an interview with Good Morning America’s Robin Roberts. In the interview, he addressed the difficulty and the dark moments he experienced before being able to come out—a reminder that while so much has changed culturally over the last 25 years, coming out is still not easy. Colton comes from a deeply religious Catholic background; his faith and virginity were a prominent focus on his season of The Bachelor, which is partly why there’s been so much media interest in his coming out. He’s a good-looking, former professional football-playing Catholic who appeared on a show that celebrates and upholds the gender binary and all of the clichés of heteronormativity; he’s the embodiment of the all-American golden boy, and he’s gay?!
Despite the early support, Ellen’s coming out nearly ruined her career: Shortly after, her sitcom was cancelled due to poor ratings. Historically, coming out has always been a major professional risk for people in the public eye, but it seems like the tide is finally turning. Look at the outpouring of love and support for JoJo Siwa, who recently came out as queer. More people know about her now than they did before, and the same can be said for Colton. Now, it seems like coming out can almost make a career rather than destroy it, although Colton’s case is complicated. His coming out also coincided with the announcement of an upcoming Netflix docuseries that will chronicle his journey as an out man alongside his “gay guide,” Olympian Gus Kenworthy—an announcement that has been met with a polarizing reaction from the LGBTQ2S+ community. While there’s been an outpouring of support, a quick scroll through Gay Twitter shows that there’s also a lot of skepticism and anger towards Colton for essentially monetizing his coming out and using it to announce the Netflix doc. And perhaps the biggest question that’s come up in response to the whole affair: Do we really need a show that centres a handsome, rich, privileged white, cis gay man when so many queer BIPOC are underpresented in film and television? Who is the Colton show for and what purpose does it serve? There’s already a petition to have the show cancelled.
We’re going to try to answer those questions and examine what Colton’s coming out says about white privilege within the LGBTQ2S+ community and queer representation on reality TV.
Thomas: Colton Under-who? Up until the day Underwood came out, I had no idea who he was (I have more thoughts to share about The Bachelor in a minute). Most straight-passing, good-looking reality television participants—men or women—look the same to me. So does the crowd of buff, white gays Colton is now joining. Upon learning about his existence, I exhaled a big “why do we care?” but here we are, dissecting some guy’s transition from the United States’ most eligible single straight guy of 2019 to America’s most eligible single gay guy of 2021.
Tranna: Honestly, I had no idea who he was either. I watched the very first season of The Bachelor way back in the day, but I’ve never watched it since.
Thomas: I had never watched the show until I tuned in for the first AND last episode of the most recent season (I skipped the good parts, I know). By now, most people on the internet know that the first-ever Black Bachelor, Matt James, ended his relationship with Rachael Kirkconnell after a picture of her at an Antebellum-themed event surfaced online. She first made a lukewarm apology for her “ignorance,” and Chris Harrison, the show’s host, jumped in the crossfire trying to defend her against the “mob,” only to find himself cancelled and exiled from Bachelor Nation. All this to say that even though the season just wrapped with the most chaotic and fraught ending ever, the most disheartening part of the show to me was still to see 25 women pitted against each other in the hope of capturing the Bachelor’s heart. Now, if I am completely honest, I would 100 percent follow a gay season of The Bachelor. I guess representation does matter!
Tranna: There’s a history of queer participants on reality television waiting to be told. And it all started with Richard Hatch on the first season of Survivor, back in 2000. For many millenials, Hatch was the first gay man that many of us saw on network television—and it wasn’t exactly positive. Hatch did extremely problematic things on that show, including allegedly sexually assaulting a contestant—but that’s a whole other story. Throughout the last 20 years, reality TV has actually been a substantial source of queer representation: Look at I Am Jazz, which chronicles the life of trans teen Jazz Jennings. I think trans representation like that is a big reason why so many young folks are able to understand their identity earlier in life than people of our generation and older. The flip side is that so much of reality TV is so exploitative and I’m not sure it’s where we want to be looking for heroes. But I think queer representation on reality TV has contributed to LGBTQ2S+ acceptance, especially when you consider the audience who’s watching these shows. Despite it having a queer cult following, Survivor is so straight! (But I admit: I’m watching it. I’m really scraping the bottom of the barrel of my quarantine watch list.)
“There’s a history of queer participants on reality television waiting to be told.”
Thomas: I’ve watched a lot of reality television in the last year (I even host another podcast on the subject, in French). Maybe it’s because I’m starting to pay attention, but I’m noticing more queer participants on mostly-straight dating shows. Holiday-themed 12 Dates of Christmas (on Crave)—created by the producer of Love Is Blind and celebrated as a more diverse alternative to The Bachelor—had a gay man as a one of its three “lead” singles. And of course, I have been telling everyone about Are You the One?’s all-pansexual-or-bisexual season, which aired in 2019.
But it’s on Quebec television that I have seen the most queerness on (French) dating shows in the last year. There were gay participants on blind dating show Flirt à l’aveugle; two women of colour choosing each other instead of the men they were setup to meet on Occupation Double (a homegrown equivalent of Love Island); the first gay farmer on rural dating series L’amour est dans le pré (literally: Love is in the field); and now, a gay participant who disclosed his HIV-positive status on the second season of Si on s’aimait, which airs daily on the most popular network in Quebec, TVA.
By normalizing gayness (and now queerness), television has played a huge role in making us more palatable to the mainstream. And media normalization usually goes hand-in-hand with profit making! While I celebrate queer representation, I can’t help but wonder if we have lost something by toning down our radical ethos. In order to be accepted, we became full participants in capitalism and nation-building. The LGBTQ2S+ community hates to hear it but capitalism is actually a driving force in increased representation. There is a buck to be made with us.
Tranna: It’s what I jokingly call the heterosexualization of homosexuality. I think a big part of the reason many white, cis gay men have ascended to (almost) the same level of white male privilege as their straight male counterparts is that they’ve adopted very heteronormative lives: Getting married, having children, buying homes in the suburbs. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but the problem is that so much of the ascension of white, cis gay men in Western society has been on the backs of racialized trans folks who remain marginalized. That’s laid out pretty clearly in The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson, a documentary about the life of the eponymous legendary trans and gay rights activist. The documentary is not without its issues, but there’s a particularly powerful scene of Marsha’s friend and fellow activist, Sylvia Rivera, chastizing a crowd of gay people for their horrible treatment of her and trans folks in general. Which brings us back to Colton and why I think it’s hard for the most marginalized members of the queer and trans community to celebrate his coming out. I think it’s because he represents white gay male privilege and the great divide that exists between them and the rest of the LGBTQ2S+ community. When so many trans folks and queer BIPOC still face violence and housing and employment discrimination at such alarming rates, it’s hard to feel joyful when you see this beautiful, rich golden boy who basically has every privilege imagineable come out and be embraced so easily. I can’t speak on behalf of the community, obviously, but I think there’s a resentment towards rich, gay, white men, many of whom basically turned their backs on the rest of the community when they got what they needed. I admit that when I saw Colton come out and speak about how hard it’s been for him, my first thought was “I wish I had your problems.” But I also have a hard time believing rich, beautiful people have real problems—even though I know that’s not true.
Thomas: Oh, good ‘ol envy! When does asking for solidarity turn into resentment, with regards to Beautiful Gays™? It’s a hard one for me. And to be fair, it has little to do with them, and everything to do with my own insecurity. As someone who has struggled with body image and a family history of unhealthy eating habits, I am jealous of jock-type gays with biceps to die for and a super-fast metabolism. I still wish for that perfect body, but gyms give me anxiety. I’ve started countless diets and workout regimens and always relapse into unhealthy amounts of Häagen-Dazs ice cream. So Colton’s coming out is clashing with my own issues and the feeling that I was never sexually worthy to the ripped and tanned gay crowd. I know that even my issues are not that bad. And the conversation on toxic masculinity, patriarchy and white supremacy has helped me understand how these affect each and everyone of us and how we navigate the world.
I had the immense privilege of not growing up in a family where being gay was considered “sinful.” I came out to my mom and my entire school at 14. I hope everyone can have a similar (or even more positive) experience than mine, but I know that’s not the case—especially for people who come from a conservative, religious background like Colton. So I wonder: Why do I not offer the same grace to white Christians who struggle with their sexuality as I do to other marginalized groups, like young Black or brown queer folks?
Tranna: In Colton’s particular situation I think the reason some of us might feel less empathy with his struggles is because even if he were to be disowned by his family and religious community—which would be awful—he still has all the resources to navigate that. When a disenfranchised queer person is disowned by their family and community, their security and survival are completely jeopardized.
Thomas: Coming out has become such a ritualized media spectacle in North American culture, but we have to remember that it wasn’t always this way. As a closeted pre-teen, I closely followed how the media chased down George Michael after he got arrested in a Beverly Hills park restroom for “lewd behaviour.” At the time, I was looking for queerness wherever I could find it, even if that meant one of my favourite singers getting arrested. The “Yep, I’m Gay” Ellen DeGeneres Time magazine cover came out the year before, in 1997. I saw it a few weeks before starting high school. I wanted to be true to myself, like George and Ellen. Their stories set me on a trajectory for my own coming out in 2000. Who knows—maybe Colton will help a Catholic teenage boy in the Midwest take the leap!
Tranna: For so long in the world of entertainment, coming out could be the end of your career; now coming out can be monetized. When Ellen came out, it ruined her show’s ratings. Now, people like Colton are being given shows just for being gay! Like you said earlier, so much progress has been made, which is great, but so much of that progress is tied to the sellability and marketability of queerness. It’s like how a sex tape or naked photos could also destroy your career, but now it can make a career—hi, Kim K.! It’s fascinating to see how much the culture has changed in regards to sexuality.
Getting back to Colton and the idea of monetizing queerness: It’s hard to separate his coming out interview from the announcement of his Netflix show with Gus Kenworthy. (Side note: What is this Netflix show even going to be? How exactly is Gus going to “guide” Colton? How hard is it to be white, beautiful and gay in North America? Every random white gay with abs has 100,000 followers on Instagram. Is Gus going to teach Colton how to douche? How to give head?) It seems obvious that this coming out interview was part of the marketing strategy for the show. For many of us coming out was awful, and here’s Colton who’s managed to leverage his coming out for a Netflix show. Part of the anger over that is envy, but the larger part is frustration over a system that routinely elevates the voices of white cis men over everyone else.
Thomas: I was so fortunate to go to a high school where people had actually been expelled for bullying. We were a few queer kids, and while I can’t speak for other people, I felt safe telling people I was gay. For my own coming out on the first day of Grade 10, I rode to school in my mom’s Jeep, blasting George Michael’s single “Outside.” The only problem is that it was so early in the morning, no one actually saw me get to school that day. I can’t believe I’ve been out for over 20 years, and I’m only 35—all thanks to Ellen and George! Fast forward to today, I can’t imagine how I would have reacted seeing Lil Nas X’s “Montero” music video at that age. Growing up, I didn’t see a lot of exciting representation of gay sex. It’s a strange feeling knowing things have changed, but that there is still so much work to do.
Tranna: When you look at the difference in how Lil Nas X’s video was received and how Colton’s coming out was received, you can very clearly see how the media wants to make Colton a hero and Lil Nas X a villain—and it obviously has to do with race. White suburban homosexuality is fine, but Black queerness is not. So how are we supposed to feel excited about Colton’s coming out when we live in a culture that degrades and vilifies Black queerness? I don’t know that I can, personally.
“When you look at the difference in how Lil Nas X’s video was received and how Colton’s coming out was received, you can very clearly see how the media wants to make Colton a hero and Lil Nas X a villain.”
Thomas: In a way, the end goal is more for any person who needs to come out to have a good and safe experience doing so. You’re right that it’s not the case: Anti-trans legislation is the latest wedge issue used by the GOP to rile up their base. Violence and bullying against trans and non-binary folks seems to go up with increased visibility. Many queer men of our generation should really do better and understand that their neat, condo-living, gay-married, Puerto Valarta holidaying lifestyle is only possible because previous generations fought homophobia. But what we didn’t see coming was that equal rights come with equal opportunity to be mediocre and lazy!
Tranna: Ha ha!
Thomas: Seriously, while I clearly have my own issues, I’m also saddened to see our community’s reaction to a queer person coming out be defined by a sense of lack. Colton Underwood is the proxy for what so many of us feel we never had. You know me, I always bring it back to recovery: I am someone with a substance-abuse problem and drinking alcohol is not something I should do. There is a history of substance abuse in my family. I haven’t had one drink in over nine years. But do I resent people who can handle their alcohol because I can’t? Absolutely not! I don’t go around saying, “If I can’t have booze, no one should have booze.” Same with my anxiety disorder, for which I have been taking medication since 2012. I’m actually content being an addict. Anxiety is a part of who I am. I want as many people as possible to get the care they need and I think we should be focused on the systems that make this difficult to achieve. At the same time, I understand the hurt and anger with regards to marginalization, and the “free pass” that mainstream media gives peoples like Underwood (and me). Things have to change, but snarky tweets and viral memes have no impact on mitigating inequality and redistributing wealth. They’re sometimes funny, I get it! But it’s more of a way of coping with everything going on right now! It’s fun (and important) to laugh at the powerful. I just wish our community could show both tough love and grace to Beautiful Gays™.
Tranna: I think the Beautiful Gays™ need to earn that grace.
Thomas: If I met Colton, I’d tell him something like: “We’re happy to have you. Now, let’s get to work; privilege is not free.”
Montreal-based comedians Thomas Leblanc and Tranna Wintour’s podcast Chosen Family streams on CBC, Apple and Google; new episodes drop every other Thursday.
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