Netflix’s queer romance drama Heartstopper is back for season 2, and it’s more relatable than ever says disability advocate Laura Pettenuzzo.
Warning: this article and TV series contains references to themes which some individuals may find distressing. If this sounds like it could be too much for you right now, you may want to skip this one and come back when you’re ready.
Earlier this month, Netflix released season 2 of its wildly popular teen romance, Heartstopper. The show is based on a series of graphic novels by British writer Alice Oseman. It follows Charlie, a high school student, and the development of his relationship with fellow student – and star of the rugby team – Nick Nelson.
When the first season dropped in 2022, I had multiple friends message me things like, “you HAVE to watch it! You’re just like Charlie,” and they were right.
Charlie apologises incessantly, like me, even as the people around him affirm that his apologies aren’t necessary. He struggles to believe that Nick could love him and, as we find out in season 2, he used to self-harm. Crucially, when he confesses his anxieties and his eating disorder, Nick offers him comfort and safety and acceptance.
I related to Charlie so much that I could only watch one episode at a time, to give myself a chance to process the thoughts and emotions that each instalment evoked. Sometimes I even needed to pause in the middle of an episode to sit with the joy, or the pain. Because Heartstopper isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. It confronts the difficulties of coming out and the homophobia that can ensue from strangers and from family and friends.
My love of Heartstopper deepened when Season 2 introduced a wheelchair user, Felix. Felix is nonbinary and uses a power wheelchair and a feeding tube. Felix’s disability isn’t a plot point or a tragedy, it’s just part of who they are, as is their queerness. Such depictions are, unfortunately, a rarity.
Representation of marginalised groups in media is scarce, and becomes scarcer still when we consider representation of multiple marginalisation, such as queerness and disability.
A 2016 report from Screen Australia noted that “the percentage of Australians with disabilities is more than four times the percentage of characters with disabilities on television.”
And Australia is not alone in its lack of disability representation on television.
A GLAAD report from 2022 found that the number of disabled characters on American television had decreased over the past few years. These statistics reinforce the increasing need for shows like Heartstopper and the representation they offer.
Heartstopper, like Queen Charlotte and several other productions, is changing the way mental illness and disability is portrayed on screen. Heartstopper is wholesome and fluffy and fun and – perhaps inadvertently – revolutionary.
The show is an escape from the real world, where discussions of mental illness aren’t always handled with such grace, where my wheelchair is often an object of fascination and queerness is something I’m still learning to embody. But Heartstopper is also a beacon of hope. The real world isn’t yet as light as the one of Oseman’s creation, but I choose to believe that, one day, it can be.
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Image: Heartstopper – courtesy of Netflix, Instagram.
Laura Pettenuzzo
Laura (she/her) is a writer and disability advocate living on Wurundjeri country. She is part of Express Media's 2022 Toolkits program and has been published in Melbourne University's Antithesis and as part of an anthology with Busybird Publishing. Laura is passionate about accessibility and writes Plain and Easy English content for various organisations.