The prediction, attributed to Andy Warhol, that everyone will be “famous for 15 minutes” aptly describes the turn of the millennium, when reality TV started transforming people without a traditional “talent” into overnight celebrities. Another accurate prediction would have been that every British TV channel will, at some point, get to broadcast the “social experiment” that started it all: Big Brother.
This year, on the second series to air on ITV, forensic psychologist Ali Bromley became the quintessential underdog. Her fellow housemates nominated her for eviction almost every week, often citing her direct manner, which frequently led to conflict. Despite being labelled the “red witch” inside the house, fans connected with her honesty. She was also praised for sharing her experience of being neurodivergent, her hopes of starting a family via IVF with her girlfriend, and carefully explaining the different terminology for lesbians, such as “femme” and “butch”, to her bewildered co-stars.
In the end, Bromley was crowned the winner with more than 50% of the vote, out of six finalists. Her turbulent journey on the show is a reminder that, in terms of nuanced queer representation, reality TV is often streaks ahead of scripted TV. And 2024 was no exception – in fact, it was one of the genre’s queerest (and most chaotic) years yet.
Bromley is the first lesbian ever to win Big Brother – a milestone that took a surprisingly long time to reach, given that Brian Dowling and Nadia Almada became the first gay and transgender winners of the show back in 2001 and 2004, respectively. Luke Anderson was the first trans man to win Big Brother in 2012, which was the second series to air on Channel 5. Truthfully, Bromley’s victory felt almost unremarkable, perhaps because the series featured at least four other LGBTQ+ contestants – including two other queer women, NHS administrator Martha Church and climate activist Daze Aghaji.
Earlier this year, David Potts – a loud and hilarious gay reality star who is known to wear short-shorts at all times, even in sub-zero temperatures – won ITV’s first series of Celebrity Big Brother. In fact, being part of the LGBTQ+ community seems to be an unwritten requirement of winning the show in the ITV era: last year, the channel’s debut series of Big Brother was won by Jordan Sangha – an introverted, dry-humoured man who struck up a romance with fellow housemate, Henry Southan, after a thrilling (almost) gay love triangle with their co-star, Matty Simpson.
When it comes to 2024’s queer reality stars, these types of messy and complicated relationships are a recurring theme. The Only Way Is Essex – yes, it’s still on – served up one of its most controversial storylines in recent years. Just days after Harry Derbidge – an original cast member of the “living soap” – and Joe Blackman ended their long-term relationship, Blackman began a romance with Debridge’s best friend and co-star, Junaid Ahmed. (TOWIE now has at least four gay cast members, each with a different experience to share).
On Married at First Sight UK – E4’s slightly ridiculous “experiment”, which sees couples tie the knot (but not really) with someone they’ve just met – Eve Reid and Charlie Curtis were one of the most fiery couples. They were the first duo to leave the show after a string of arguments, one of which involved Curtis throwing her wedding ring into the sea on their honeymoon. (And they say romance is dead!)
There was also space for wholesomeness among the drama. I Kissed a Girl – the BBC’s female-focused follow-up to I Kissed a Boy, which became the UK’s first gay dating show in 2023 – stood out against a backdrop of conflict-heavy reality TV. On the show, the women opened up about why even using the word “lesbian” can spark insecurities. (And they added a glossary of new terms to my vocabulary, such as the difference between a “black cat” and “golden retriever” lesbian. It was practically an Attenborough documentary.)
Netflix’s The Boyfriend – Japan’s first gay dating show – became an unexpected hit, too. The series followed a group of gay men, sequestered in a coastal town, managing a coffee stall together and looking for love. Watching the show is best compared to eating a warm cookie on a cold winter’s day: nourishing, sweet and indulgent.
This isn’t to say that 2024 didn’t have room for improvement. On MAFS, it was disappointing that the lesbian couple were the only LGBTQ+ duo out of 11 pairings. Not only that, but they were treated identically to every other couple, to the point where it felt like a missed opportunity to address how any of their issues with trust and communication might stem from queer experiences, such as coming out and homophobia. If there had been other LGBTQ+ couples, Reid and Curtis might not have felt as if they were being rather awkwardly slotted into a “straight show”. In the end, their inclusion didn’t feel authentic.
Speaking of “authenticity” – the most sought-after quality in reality TV – 2024 has been a year where LGBTQ+ people have thrived, particularly on British reality shows, because queer people and relationships have been portrayed as messy and complicated. On Big Brother, Bromley didn’t just win because she was kind or refreshingly direct, but because she was self-reflective and able to admit when she had got things wrong. Reality TV isn’t known for being a forgiving medium, but everyone should get the chance to be imperfect without being vilified. Surely that’s the most authentic representation there is?
