Out and proud: The best LGBTQI characters on the small screen
LGBTQI stories are continuing to attract both critical and box office success with no sign of slowing down. We’ve come a long way since the heart-wrenching performances of Jake Gyllenhaal & Heath Ledger failed to earn the Best Picture Oscar for Brokeback Mountain to make way for Crash – a sprawling vaguely interconnected mess that fumbles its racial message and brought the liberal upswing of movies back by about ten years. This year, it didn’t seem too far from impossible that a queer-centric film could snag the award two years in a row, with Call Me by Your Name remaining a viable contender after Moonlight took the prize last year. In fact, the thematic sensibilities that Luca Guadagnino’s film represented were still realized by Guillermo del Toro’s win for The Shape of Water, which portrays its bestial romance as a metaphor for oppressed relationships and offers a sensitive performance from Richard Jenkins (The Visitor) as an older gay man rendered lonely and neurotic by the homophobic 50s. Since Call Me by Your Name has achieved phenomenal worldwide success, James Ivory – the award-winning screenwriter who adapted the novel to screen – has recently been more candid about the double standards that prevent gay men from enjoying the same degree of sexual freedom as women. As a gay man himself, Ivory dismissed Guadagnino’s choice of removing male nudity from the film as “bullshit”, as he had always intended the romance to be objective and revealing. In his 1987 film Maurice, “the two guys have had sex and they get up and you certainly see everything there is to be seen.” On the other hand, when discussing Guadagnino’s decision to “pan the camera out of the window toward some trees,” he simply offered a snort. After the whirlwind success of Moonlight and Call Me by Your Name, it was only a matter of time before the studio version of a gay romance was released, and Greg Berlanti’s Love, Simon subverts a number of romcom clichés to win over most of its skeptics. Berlanti discussed the difficulties for gay actors to find roles that won’t leave them type-casted, although he is sure things are getting better. Known for his work on The CW, he revealed, “When I would cast people in gay roles, there were so many conversations about it 10, 15 years ago. You’d have to talk to their agent, and you’d have to talk to them . . . There was a feeling that it would label an actor.” Thankfully, “those are not the kinds of conversations people are having now.” In recent years, television has been more forward-thinking when it comes to presenting realistic queer characters and storylines on the gay experience. Here are some of our favorites.
Recent Trends in LGBTQI TV Representation
GLAAD’s 2025 Where We Are on TV report counted 489 LGBTQ+ regular or recurring characters across scripted primetime series in the 2024-25 season. That marks a modest 4 percent increase from the year before, yet 201 of those characters, or 41 percent, are not expected to return in 2026 because of cancellations and series finales. The numbers reflect both continued growth and the volatility that comes when networks and streamers cut budgets or pull the plug on long-running shows. Viewers who once tuned in for weekly doses of Cam and Mitchell or Captain Holt now find themselves hunting for the next ensemble that treats identity as part of the fabric rather than the entire plot. The data also shows that broadcast and cable still trail streaming platforms in sheer volume, though the gap narrows when limited series are counted. For anyone tracking representation, the takeaway is simple: the pipeline is wider than it was a decade ago, but nothing stays on air forever.
Animated Series Expanding Queer Storytelling
Steven Universe Future wrapped the long-running franchise, yet the show’s influence on how animation handles queer characters has only grown. Pearl’s arc from rigid perfectionist to someone quietly carrying unrequited love remains one of the most sustained explorations of longing in any children’s series. Garnet, the permanent fusion of Ruby and Sapphire, still stands as television’s clearest visual metaphor for a stable, loving partnership that refuses to split. Newer animated projects have picked up the same baton, folding in non-binary and trans characters without turning them into punchlines. The format’s strength lies in its ability to let relationships evolve across dozens of episodes while keeping the tone light enough for younger viewers. Where older cartoons relied on coded jokes, these series treat identity as another layer of personality, no different from favorite colors or catchphrases. The result is a library of episodes parents and kids can watch together without needing separate explanations afterward.
Impact of Series Conclusions on LGBTQI Characters
Modern Family closed its run in 2020 after eleven seasons, leaving Cameron and Mitchell’s marriage as a benchmark for how network television could portray a same-sex couple raising a child. Their on-screen wedding in 2014 arrived the same year California legalized same-sex marriage, and the writers kept the relationship grounded even when the rest of the series leaned into broader sitcom tropes. Brooklyn Nine-Nine ended in 2021, and Captain Holt’s steady presence across eight seasons showed how a Black gay police captain could anchor a workplace comedy without every joke circling back to his sexuality. Rosa Diaz’s season-five coming-out episode and later relationship with Jocelyn gave the show another dimension that felt earned rather than tacked on. Riverdale concluded in 2023 after seven seasons of soap-opera excess, yet Kevin Keller’s level-headed perspective and Cheryl Blossom’s bisexual coming-out arc provided rare moments of clarity amid the town’s endless scandals. These finales mean the characters now live in reruns and streaming queues, their storylines frozen at the point the writers chose to stop. For fans who grew up with the shows, that permanence can feel both comforting and abrupt.
Ensemble Queer Casts in Contemporary Series
Newer series have shifted the spotlight from single standout characters to entire ensembles where multiple queer storylines run in parallel. FX’s Adults follows a group of twenty-somethings navigating jobs, dating, and identity with several LGBTQ+ cast members given equal screen time. The Last of Us, renewed for another season, continues to center a father-daughter relationship that also includes queer supporting characters without reducing them to side quests. These group portraits echo the spirit of the earlier lists while reflecting how writers rooms now treat sexuality as one thread among many. The approach avoids the trap of making any single character carry the burden of representation. Instead, audiences see friends, coworkers, and rivals who happen to share the same orientation but differ in every other respect. The trend suggests that future seasons will keep expanding the table rather than seating one guest at a time.
The characters profiled here helped shift television from coded glances to openly lived experiences. Their shows have ended or evolved, yet the performances remain available for new viewers discovering them years later. Representation numbers continue to climb even as individual series come and go, which means the next wave of stories is already in production. Whether the next breakout character arrives in animation, a network sitcom, or a prestige drama, the standard set by these earlier portrayals is clear: give the character room to breathe, and the audience will follow.
