Bridgerton finally gave us queer storylines. Fans aren’t having it.

Its first queer storylines have been met with homophobia and misogynoir. vox.com/culture CULTURE   As a long-time Bridgerton watcher, I’ve been on the fence for years about whether the show is actually good, while nonetheless getting attached to all those zany Bridgertons and their steady stream of love affairs. Since the [premiere]( of season one in 2020, I’ve dinged the show for [shallow]( writing, particularly around its [characters of color](, and its notable lack of queer characters. Then along came [season three](, which flung more romances at us than ever but also, under new showrunner Jess Brownell, sought to give them all nuance. For the first time, I found myself really invested in the show’s driving conflict — which wasn’t a romantic tiff at all, but the fractured friendship of our heroine du jour, Eloise Bridgerton (Claudia Jessie) and her best friend Penelope (Nicola Coughlan). Best of all, in the season’s back half, we finally got [not one but two queer Bridgertons](! Yet while I’ve welcomed the shifting approach away from overwrought individual romances toward community and even more diversity, some fans aren’t having it. They’re angry at the show for too few sex scenes, too many love stories, and especially the injection of queer characters into what were once straight romances. This, Bridgerton fam, is why we can’t have nice things. —[Aja Romano](, reporter Bridgerton finally gave us queer storylines. Fans aren’t having it. [Actor Luke Thompson as Benedict Bridgerton, in a gold bow tie, holding a glass and looking at someone out of the frame.]( Liam Daniel/Netflix At long last, Bridgerton has found its queer storylines! Aaaaand, of course, the celebration has already been cut short thanks to a frustrating mix of homophobia, misogynoir, and book purists. As a television show with an enormous fanbase, Bridgerton has naturally provoked strong responses from audiences with the second half of its third season, which Netflix released over the weekend. Much of it once again divided devotees of the books from Netflix-only viewers. The show has never been a fully faithful retelling of the Bridgerton books by romance novelist Julia Quinn — but that’s a selling point in its favor because the OG Bridgertons and their love interests are all straight and white. The show’s biggest change thus far has been its famous color-conscious casting. Now, at last, [we can add queer representation to the list.]( Among the plethora of romance plot lines the show was juggling in its eight-episode season, released in two parts, were tantalizing hints at queer representation from two characters’ storylines. The first was a development the show teased early on but then seemed to have forgotten about. Benedict Bridgerton (Luke Thompson) has been what we might call queer-adjacent since season one, primarily through his dalliances with London’s sexually liberated underground party scene. He finally stumbled his way into discovering his identity after a casual fling introduced him to the wonders of threesomes with men. It’s a turn that feels long overdue, and I’m thrilled that I no longer have to designate him “the inexplicably straight Bridgerton.” The second was [a rather charming bait-and-switch.]( Francesca Bridgerton (Hannah Dodd) featured prominently for the first time after casting issues kept her AWOL, so we spent most of this season getting to know her. She turned out to be a rare thing for a Bridgerton — shy and retiring, arguably neurodivergent, and most shocking of all, steadfastly dedicated to the idea of a sparks-free romance with her new suitor John Stirling, Lord Kilmartin (Victor Alli). The pair made an adorably low-key couple of besties who stole my heart in the season’s first half — only for Francesca to meet John’s stunning, vivacious cousin Michaela (Masali Baduza) in the final moments of the season and go fully lovestruck. 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