Tue. Oct 13th, 2026

Every year GLAAD publishes the report Where We Are on TV, and every year we hope for a step forward. 2026 brought a painful figure: 41% of LGBTQ+ TV characters will not return in the next season. It's not a generic cut, it's a selective culling that hits precisely those who had just begun to exist on screen.

It means one series out of ten eliminates its only queer character. It means that those who had grown attached to that story, to that face, are left with a narrative void. We know it well: representation is not just a mirror, it's also nourishment. When it disappears, it leaves a hunger that's hard to explain.

Who's there, who stays, who disappears

The numbers from the GLAAD 2025-2026 report tell a precise picture. Cisgender gay men are the most represented group, with 193 characters, equal to 39% of the total. Lesbians follow at 132 (27%), then bisexual characters at 98 (20%). Queer-identified characters reach 32 (7%), while asexuals remain a symbolic presence: only two characters, 0.4%.

Maybe this is the most thought-provoking figure. Asexuality exists, it's a reality for millions of people, but on TV it's almost invisible. Those who identify with that sexual orientation have to settle for a few jokes, for a secondary character who rarely survives the first renewal. It's not so strange that many feel excluded from public discourse as well.

The ethnic composition of LGBTQ+ characters is another sore spot. Out of 491 characters counted, 221 are white, 45%. Black characters are 85 (17%), Asian and Pacific Islander 58 (12%), Latinx 53 (11%). The numbers improve compared to ten years ago, but we're still far from a realistic picture of the community.

The right to exist in court as well

While TV takes steps back, jurisprudence tries to move forward. In May 2026, the Supreme People's Court issued a ruling that closely concerns every LGBTQ+ person. In response to a popular petition, it established that local courts must judge cases of discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, or gender expression by considering the protection of personal dignity.

The ruling is clear on one point: insults related to sexual orientation or gender identity are considered illegal. The Court also reiterated that homosexuality is not a disease. It seems obvious, yet in many countries it's still necessary to say it by law. Discrimination at work remains prohibited, but the line between a declaration of principle and concrete application is still very blurred.

Those who have been working on civil rights for years know it well: a ruling doesn't change culture on its own. The media need to tell those lives, those stories, those battles. Representation must not be a luxury for the few.

The paradox of visibility

The contrast is strong. On one hand, legal institutions recognize dignity and rights. On the other, the television industry cuts precisely those stories that give a face to those rights. The 41% of characters not renewed is not a technical figure: it's a message. It says that the LGBTQ+ community is still considered a risk, an investment to reduce when budgets tighten.

It's not new, but it still has an effect to see it confirmed by the numbers. Every cancelled character is one less chance for identification for viewers. For a gay boy in a small town, for a bisexual girl who hasn't come out yet, for an asexual person looking for a reflection of their own existence.

Television is not just entertainment. It's the mirror we look into to understand who we are and who we can become. When that mirror shatters, the fragments cut everyone.

Safety and consent in storytelling

There's an aspect of representation that is often overlooked: the quality of the story. Having an LGBTQ+ character is not enough if their story is made of suffering, clichés, or premature death. Those stories need to be written with awareness, with respect, with the right balance between realism and hope.

Consent, in this context, is not just about sex scenes. It's about the community's right to see its experiences represented without distortions. Every time a queer character is eliminated without a narrative reason, a message is sent: your life is less important than others. It's a form of symbolic violence, and it hurts as much as concrete discrimination.

That's why the GLAAD report is so important. It's not just a census, it's a political tool. It tells the industry: look at what you're doing. And it tells the community: you're not alone, someone is keeping count.

Sources and references

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