By Michael Segalov, Photo: Netflix, The Guardian, May 31, 2022
Barely three minutes into the first episode of Heartstopper – Netflix’s new LGBTQ+ coming-of-age romcom series, which has been a knockout success with critics and viewers – I turned to my boyfriend, curled up next to me on the sofa. Aimed primarily at a younger audience, the show is about an openly gay male sixth former at an English comprehensive (played by 18-year-old Joe Locke) who falls in love with the school’s most popular rugby player in the year above. “There’s no way,” I declared to my partner with confidence, “that this is going to end well.” His love would go unrequited. We’d seen it all so many times before.
The idea that the show might end as it did – with a tear-jerkingly joyful celebration of young queer love in full bloom, depicted gorgeously – seemed impossible. My own similar experiences at school, I believed, had taught me far better; the notion that television executives would commission – or that British audiences would welcome – a mainstream, queer and adolescent happily-ever-after was firmly beyond the realms of possibility in my jaded millennial mind.
As the Heartstopper plot unfolded, however, so too did a real-life event. By the time – in episode eight – the two main characters had truly fallen for each other, teenage Blackpool FC footballer Jake Daniels had come out; he was the first gay male professional footballer to do so since Justin Fashanu in 1990. A week after Fashanu came out more than three decades ago, his own brother – fellow footballer John – all but disowned him: “John Fashanu: My gay brother is an outcast” read a headline in The Voice. Brian Clough, Justin’s manager at Nottingham Forest, meanwhile, described his star player as a “a bloody poof”. Fashanu tragically killed himself. Years later, John spoke about his regret over how he treated his older brother. In 2019, he and his daughter launched theJustin Fashanu Foundation to eliminate prejudice in football.
Comments (0)