Let’s just go ahead and say it: some of y’all’s favorite reality-TV franchises keep serving up Black gay characters like reheated leftovers—lazy, underseasoned, and predictable. And I say that with love and side-eye. Whether it’s Real Housewives of Atlanta, Love & Hip-Hop, or the 12 spinoffs of whatever drag competition just dropped this week, I can’t help but notice that we keep getting dragged through the same tired portrayals that feel more caricature than character. We are being flattened into tropes. Again.
Now, I’m not asking for sanitized, perfect portrayals either. We’re layered, complex, and sometimes messy—like all people. But what I am tired of is the loop: every time a Black gay man shows up on reality TV, he’s either a punchline, a plot device, or a pressure valve to make everybody else’s drama “interesting.” Some of y’all might call it “representation.” I call it exploitation with a lace front.
The thing is, we’ve been out here doing the work, living full, vibrant lives—building careers, falling in love, dealing with real shit—and still, these shows insist on casting us in the same narrow roles that make us look like clowns, doormats, or conflict grenades. I’m not saying cancel the whole genre. I’m saying we need to expect (and demand) better. So here’s my judgmental but loving breakdown of 13 tropes that need to go the hell away.
1. Constantly Arguing and Combative… but Only with Women
Why is it always us beefing with the girls? Every time there’s a Black gay man in the mix, it’s like producers cue the “drag her!” music. We’re either going toe-to-toe with the female leads or in the confessionals talking slick about them. Don’t get me wrong—some of the girls earn their stripes—but the one-note portrayal of us as bitchy and catty only with women? That’s not empowerment. That’s a setup.
2. Instigating Feuds Among Female Co-Stars
Messy boots. And not even stylish ones. Too many of these shows lean into this idea that the gay friend’s only job is to stir the pot—whispering one thing in a co-star’s ear, then flipping it to someone else for a reaction. It’s not strategy. It’s just chaos. If y’all wanna write a villain, at least give him a compelling motive. Stop using us like gay middlemen for other people’s fights.
3. Scared to Engage in Conflict with Straight or Masculine Men
Now here’s where it gets real tired. All that bark when it’s time to drag a woman or a femme queen, but when the hetero dude with Timberlands and a neck tattoo steps in, suddenly it’s “I’m not trying to fight.” Where’s the energy now? This trope makes us look performative—loud when it’s safe, quiet when it counts. Either hold your own all the way around or don’t at all. Don’t edit us like punks.
4. Not Having a Real Storyline
Some of these queens show up, deliver catchphrases, throw shade, and then disappear until the reunion. No growth arc. No journey. No depth. Just confetti and soundbites. Are they not asking you any real questions during filming? Or are the editors too lazy to dig deeper? Whatever the case, we deserve more than to just orbit around the “main” characters like glorified glitter.
5. Not Having a Real Love Interest
This one right here—tragic. How is it that every single straight and bisexual cast member gets their romantic entanglement storyline, but the gay man is either sexless, hiding his man, or reduced to some one-night stand that never makes it past episode three? We got love lives too, complex ones. But these shows treat our relationships like they’re either taboo or too complicated to follow. Please.
6. The Gay Accessory Friend to the Female Stars
We are not handbags. We are not lipgloss. We are not props. The “gay bestie” trope still haunts these shows like a cheap ghost—there to boost the main girl’s confidence, do her hair, and clap during her confessionals. It’s giving sassy mannequin. Newsflash: our lives don’t revolve around helping women be fabulous. Stop framing us like glam squad leftovers.
7. Relied on for the Reads, Gossip, and Lingo
Every episode, it’s the same formula: toss the Black gay into the scene, and let him bring the flavor. Reads? Check. Shade? Check. Drag-adjacent slang straight from 2012 Tumblr? Check. It’s exhausting. We become the unofficial narrator without ever being the focus. And nine times outta ten, the cast picks up our slang and runs it into the ground without giving credit. Where’s the royalty check?
8. Only the Trauma Dump Story Arc
Some shows try to get “deep” and give us a backstory—but it always stops at trauma. We’re molested, homeless, HIV-positive, kicked out by our families, or all of the above. Now, these are real things that happen. But why are we only allowed to show up through pain? Why is there never space for joy, passion, or thriving? You wouldn’t reduce a straight person to their worst day, so stop doing it to us.
9. The “Down Low” or “Trade” Fetish Storyline
Here we go again with the fetishizing of “DL” and “trade” culture. How many times do we have to sit through the same tired plot: a closeted man who “won’t claim us,” coded hypermasculinity, and a whole narrative built on secrecy and shame? Y’all love a DL character because you think it’s spicy, but it’s really just tired. Also: not all of us are chasing dudes who don’t want to be seen with us.
10. The Masculine vs. Feminine Gay Divide
Why is this still a thing? It’s 2025 and reality shows are still trying to pit masc vs. fem like it’s a football rivalry. They’ll cast one “trade” and one queen, then manufacture beef over who’s “real” and who’s “doing too much.” The divide isn’t real life—it’s editing room nonsense. And it keeps feeding the idea that there’s a right way and a wrong way to be gay. That’s the actual gag.
11. The “Too Much” Token Gay
Loud. Over-the-top. Always dancing, always yelling, always giving “life.” It’s fun until it’s all we get. Some of these shows cast one gay man who’s supposed to represent the whole damn spectrum—and make him extra for shock value. It’s not authenticity. It’s a circus act. Being vibrant isn’t the problem. Being reduced to just that is.
12. The Angry Black Gay in a Sea of White Queers
This one deserves a whole episode. You put one or two Black gays on a cast full of white or non-Black queers, edit out their nuance, and then frame them as “aggressive,” “intimidating,” or “hard to work with.” Meanwhile, Chad and them get to scream, throw drinks, and flip tables without being labeled “problematic.” It’s not a personality flaw—it’s racialized editing. We see it. Every time.
13. The Black Gay Who Only Dates White Men
I’m not here to judge anyone’s type, but let’s talk about representation. Too many of these shows cast Black gay men whose entire romantic (and social) world is white. And it’s not just that they’re dating white men—it’s that they never even acknowledge other Black queer folks. No Black friends. No Black lovers. No Black joy. Just an endless quest for proximity to whiteness dressed up as “preference.” It sends a message, intentional or not, and it’s tired.
It’s wild that after decades of progress and visibility, we’re still being boxed into these same dusty roles. Representation without intention is just exploitation with better lighting. And the worst part? The audience eats it up, thinking they’re seeing “diversity” while they’re really watching a rerun with better wigs.
Reality TV can do better. It should do better. And we, the viewers, have to stop giving passes just because somebody “snatched” a moment or gave a good read. We deserve layered, real portrayals of who we are—not just what we can give to someone else’s storyline.
Let me know what you think about this post. What additional gems would you drop on this topic? Drop it in the comments and tag a friend who enjoys topics like this!