Heartstopper: Healthy Expressions of Young Queer Affection & Unwavering Bisexuality

Shows about queer high schoolers often leave queer adults unable to relate, but Heartstopper offers bisexual representation that is still difficult to find in modern media.

Image from Netflix.

Heartstopper (2022-), the T.V. show based on webcomics of the same name by Alice Oseman, has had near-universally positive critical reviews. And I have a lot of positive things to say about it as well. The show was well-written, well-shot, and well-performed by age-appropriate actors. It was very sweet and lovely, really. But for me, watching it in the shadow of its contemporaries like Our Flag Means Death (2022-), which made me feel so loved and seen and at home, I struggled to connect as deeply to the piece as other viewers appeared to be able to.

Perhaps, to review a show I should at least attempt to stick strictly to the text. However, as I said in my introductory essay, I feel that attempting to view writing about media as if that media exists in a vacuum does a disservice to the experience of consuming media. I don’t consume media in a vacuum, and neither does anyone else. In order to review media, we must discuss media as a personal experience, as well as a text constructed with intent by an author. Both are valuable, and neither exists outside of the other.

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First, The Criticism

“I wasn’t out, really even to myself in high school, and neither were the majority of queer people in my high school– or at least the ones that I know now. Despite the fact that almost everyone in my high school marching band section is queer, most of us didn’t come out until college.”

To be honest, when I first started the show, I didn’t think I would like it. I was a little frustrated by the “openly gay bullied boy has a toxic relationship with mean, closeted bully only to be saved by straight-passing dude who he develops a crush on,” of it all.

Like many queer people, I am very over high school dramedies as I really struggle to relate to them. I wasn’t out, really even to myself in high school, and neither were the majority of queer people in my high school– or at least the ones that I know now. Despite the fact that almost everyone in my high school marching band section is queer, most of us didn’t come out until college. This is true for most, although certainly not all, of the queer people I have met since high school as well. And while it is fair to say my experiences are very heavily based in my midwestern upbringing, this is not an uncommon queer experience.

I think that a lot of my initial criticism of the show holds. Charlie’s coming out is exploited for plot and queer pain, centering on the reactions of others, rather than the needs of the queer person who came out. And while this holds true to some experiences, it is still an overrepresented type-cast. It’s a painful plot point that picks at queer pain rather than queer joy in a queer romantic comedy. This is not to say that discussing queer-specific pain or discrimination doesn’t have a place. I just hate how much queer media feels the need to root even joyful queer stories in deep, formative moments of queer pain and fear.

Then, The Love

Still, there’s a lot to love about Heartstopper. They have a fairly diverse cast with intersecting queer and racial identities. Although, they are all supporting cast members for two white, well-off, cis queer men. Even so, the supporting characters are well-rounded and full of their own motivations, personalities, and plots separate from the two main characters.

What I loved about Heartstoppers, though, was the approach to Charlie and Nick’s personal and relationship development. There are a lot of really touching moments to be found there. For starters, the juxtaposition between Nick, Charlie’s main love interest throughout the show, and Ben, the guy Charlie had previously been hooking up with, is beautifully done. Both boys asked Charlie to keep their relationship a secret, as neither of them was ready to be out yet.

Why I Hate Ben

Ben used this as an opportunity to exploit Charlie and use his insecurities to gain power over him. Ben takes advantage of all the pain bullies had put Charlie through to make the boy feel like it was his fault that Ben doesn’t want to go public with their relationship, and uses the classic abuser tactic of convincing Charlie that no one else would want him, that he was essentially taking pity on Charlie. Ben even goes so far as to ignore or make fun of Charlie in front of others. Charlie finally breaks things off with Ben when he finds out that the boy has a girlfriend. All after he had made it clear that Charlie thinking that the two of them were boyfriends was ridiculous. Ben's abuse really fucked Charlie up, like it would do to just about anyone, but especially a vulnerable and lonely fifteen-year-old gay kid.

Why I Love Nick

“As their relationship progresses, Nick handles Charlie’s trauma, and his own self-learning, really well. He constantly meets Charlie’s anxiety and anxious attachment style with support and reassurance. When he asks Charlie to keep their relationship a secret he makes it clear from the beginning that the decision comes from his lack of understanding of himself, and that he needs time to learn about his own sexuality.”

Nick, however, handles the situation very differently, despite also being a cooler, older boy. Before Charlie or Nick even has feelings for one another, Nick saves Charlie from being assaulted by Ben and immediately ends his friendship with the abuser. Just as I was beginning to think that Charlie was just another gay boy developing a crush on a straight boy, it becomes clear that Nick is at least as nervous as Charlie is. As their relationship progresses, Nick handles Charlie’s trauma, and his own self-learning, really well. He constantly meets Charlie’s anxiety and anxious attachment style with support and reassurance. When he asks Charlie to keep their relationship a secret he makes it clear from the beginning that the decision comes from his lack of understanding of himself, and that he needs time to learn about his own sexuality. He makes it known to Charlie that it has nothing to do with their budding relationship or his feelings for the boy.

Nick never avoids Charlie in public or acts ashamed of him. He makes spending time with Charlie a priority and is always sure to express all of the things he likes about him. Nick is not afraid to be vulnerable or admit when he needs support either. And Charlie, for his part, is a sweet little well of understanding and support. Unlike Ben, Nick is actually the first one to tell people about his relationship with Charlie, despite being unsure about his own sexuality. He even invites Charlie out with his cool friends, plus when one of them calls Charlie a faggot he is once again the defender and punches the dude in the face. Regardless of your stance on violence, I think we’ve probably all wanted to knock the lights out on a homophobe once or twice, and it’s pretty gratifying to see it on screen.

When Nick finally does realize he is bisexual he wastes literally zero time. He tells Charlie, outs himself to his mom immediately, and ends the first season of the show screaming on a beach about what a big crush he has on a boy, while holding said boy in his arms, and being confused when Charlie asks if they’re boyfriends because he thought that they had obviously been in a committed relationship for weeks at that point.

Even with all these stellar points in Nick’s corner, and his extreme emotional maturity for a 16-year-old rom-com character, he isn’t perfect. Nick is very much 16 and has never done this before. When he and Charlie kiss for the first time he runs away, disappearing without so much as a text. Which leaves Charlie feeling understandably lousy, used, and retraumatized. However, in true Nick fashion, he comes to Charlie’s house early the next morning and is extremely honest and vulnerable with his feelings. At one point Nick accepts a date from a girl. She asks him very publicly in front of all of his friends and he gives in to the peer pressure. He waits a little too long to tell Charlie, but even then, when he finally works up the courage he is honest about the situation, makes it clear that there is no contest, and lets the girl down in a kind, gentle way.

Heartstopper does an excellent job comparing healthy and unhealthy relationships, taking the time to explore how queer people can take time to understand themselves without being a terrible partner, as long as they put in genuine effort and care about their partner’s feelings.

The Unwavering Bisexuality Of It All

Like I said earlier, there were a lot of things in this show that I struggled to relate to. But the thing that struck my 23-year-old bisexual heart was the proud bisexual rep. As someone who, up until very recently, has regularly questioned their sexuality every time they developed a new crush, I found Nick’s self-discovery journey to be relatable, touching, and very brave.

Seeing someone– anyone really, but especially someone so young– come to a place where he is so secure in his bisexuality really did something for me on a human level. And Charlie received that sexuality so lovingly. He wasn’t threatened or worried about having to compete with people of both genders, as monosexual people sometimes feel they need to be. Charlie didn’t make Nick’s sexuality about himself or their relationship, instead, he allowed Nick’s sexual identity and Nick’s coming out to be about Nick.

And Why It's Important

Ultimately, this is why good queer representation is so important to me as a consumer of media. The entire idea of having explicit, wholesome, not hypersexualized bisexual representation is still so wild to me. The way that Nick’s character spoke to me… I can’t help but think that if I had seen this kind of fleshed-out, genuine bisexual representation in middle school or high school I wouldn’t still feel so starved for bisexual representation today. Maybe if I’d had Hearstopper instead of the over-sensationalized crap on Glee (2009-2015) or the minimized “Angela dates a girl” plotline in Bones (2005-2017), maybe I would have spent less time worrying that a new crush meant I was a lesbian with comphet or a straight girl who was taking up space where she didn’t belong.

I can’t help but think that maybe generations of bisexual people before me, the ones who had to make do with coding and subtext, could have benefited from this kind of mainstream “it’s not a phase” bisexual teenage rep. For me, Nick, more than anything else, is the element that moves this show from a half-decent romcom to an exploration into strong queer representation.

Like what you just read? Read last week's Queer Cinema and Beyond post "Mama Mia! Here We Go Again With The Mommy Issues And The Daddy Issues And The Found Family."

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