The Impact Awards, produced with iHeartMedia and Procter & Gamble , will debut June 1 as a podcast series and audio special, positioning queer storytelling and visibility at the center of that response. John and his husband David Furnish frame the project as both a celebration of trailblazers and a call to resist efforts to dismantle the health, cultural, and advocacy systems LGBTQ+ communities built in the shadow of the AIDS crisis.

A new platform for Pride season

In mid-May, iHeartMedia and P&G announced the inaugural Elton John Impact Awards, describing it as a first-of-its-kind podcast awards ceremony honoring “trailblazing LGBTQ+ community members and prominent allies.” Hosted by actor and musician Billy Porter alongside radio personality Elvis Duran, the series will stream on the iHeartRadio app and across all major podcast platforms, while also airing as an audio special on iHeartRadio PRIDE stations on June 1, aligning the launch with the start of Pride Month.

The awards aim to “drive visibility and funding” for organizations that support LGBTQ+ communities, including the Elton John AIDS Foundation, CenterLink, GLAAD, the National Black Justice Coalition, Outright International, SAGE, and The Trevor Project. These groups collectively address issues from LGBTQ+ elder care and mental health for young people to international human-rights advocacy and access to preventative health services, situating the podcast as more than a celebrity showcase.

Honoring a new generation of icons

The first cohort of honorees reflects a cross-section of LGBTQ+ identities and allies whose work spans entertainment, sports, and grassroots philanthropy. Honorees include actor Jonathan Bailey, transgender advocate and actor Laverne Cox, musician Melissa Etheridge, tennis legend Billie Jean King, country performer Orville Peck, and pop artist Chappell Roan, each recognized for weaving LGBTQ+ advocacy into their public roles.

Bailey is praised for launching The Shameless Fund to support LGBTQ+ charities, while Cox is cited for elevating transgender visibility in mainstream media and maintaining a strong voice for equality and inclusion. Etheridge’s decades of personal storytelling and advocacy, King’s lifelong fight for gender and LGBTQ+ equality in and beyond sports, Peck’s queer-centered reimagining of country aesthetics, and Roan’s founding of The Midwest Princess Project to support transgender youth round out a roster the organizers explicitly describe as “legendary” and “iconic.”

In the Out interview, Furnish notes that these honorees “used their platform at a moment when it would have been easier not to,” emphasizing that the Impact Awards prioritize sustained public authenticity over mere celebrity. He points to the effect of such visibility on young LGBTQ+ people navigating their identities, arguing that seeing people live “their truth publicly and consistently” can be life-changing.

“The hostility is real and it is growing”

John is explicit about why this project is debuting now. In the Out interview, he describes the current climate by saying, “The hostility is real and it is growing,” warning that LGBTQ+ rights are being rolled back and funding is being cut while vulnerable communities become even more exposed.

“This is not a moment for silence or looking away,” John says, framing the Impact Awards as “one way of saying clearly – we are here, we are proud, and we are not going away.” He adds that art and visibility “have always been part of how this community survives,” linking queer creativity not only to cultural impact but to survival in the face of legislative attacks and public scapegoating.

Furnish echoes that sense of urgency, saying the couple is “focused on protecting what the LGBTQ+ community built, because most people don't know they built it,” with special emphasis on the role gay men played in transforming modern medicine during the AIDS crisis. He explains that activists pushed for faster access to life-saving drugs, forced their way into scientific conversations, and created community-based care models that are now standard practice, warning that this legacy is “under threat” from funding cuts, criminalization, and political hostility.

The Elton John AIDS Foundation and a threatened legacy

John’s and Furnish’s comments come against the backdrop of more than three decades of work by the Elton John AIDS Foundation, which is both a beneficiary and a partner of the Impact Awards. Founded in 1992, the foundation describes its mission as ending the AIDS epidemic, with a focus on overcoming stigma, discrimination, and neglect that block access to testing, prevention, and treatment.

According to iHeartMedia’s background notes on the awards, since 2020 the foundation has made more than 55 grants and invested over $23 million in programs across 47 countries, supporting a range of local experts and organizations on four continents. Furnish calls the Impact Awards a way to spotlight “the vital work of organizations protecting LGBTQ+ communities and advancing health equity around the world,” stating that such investment has “never been more urgent” as LGBTQ+ rights and health equity are challenged globally.

In the Out conversation, Furnish underscores that ending AIDS “is still possible” because “the science has never been better,” but cautions that “the systems and communities built to deliver it have to survive first.” He characterizes the foundation’s work as a fight to keep those community-built systems alive amid political pressure, aligning the awards with broader efforts to defend both public health infrastructure and LGBTQ+ dignity.

Storytelling, joy, and resistance

For John, storytelling is the connective tissue between his career, the Impact Awards, and the current wave of hostility. In the press announcement, he is quoted as saying he has “always believed in the power of storytelling to connect us and challenge us,” describing the new series as a way to bring together people who have shaped LGBTQ+ culture and “fought for dignity at a time when the world too often looked away.”

John calls the honorees’ stories “deeply humbling” and insists that “this is history that cannot be forgotten and these are voices that must be heard,” suggesting that archiving and amplifying queer narratives is itself part of resisting political erasure. The audio format, which includes candid conversations between John, Furnish, and each honoree, aims to give listeners what organizers describe as “behind the scenes” access to the challenges and defining moments that shaped each person’s life.

In his Out interview, John directs a specific message to young LGBTQ+ artists: “Be yourself. That is the best advice I can give to any young person. Do not be afraid of who you are. Celebrate it, be courageous, and step out into the world as only you can. We need you.” The emphasis on courage, celebration, and “queer joy” positions authenticity as a form of resistance, echoing Furnish’s assertion that “living openly and unapologetically is a form of resistance in itself.”

Legacy beyond the stage

Although John is widely honored for his decades-long musical career, the interview makes clear that he sees his most important legacy in different terms. Asked how he hopes people will celebrate his life, he answers that if his children are happy and know he “gave everything” to support and love them, “that is enough,” describing fatherhood and building a family with Furnish as what will “always matter most.”

At the same time, John acknowledges the “great privilege” of having been honored for his music and says he tries to pass a sense of opportunity to “rising artists who will become the legends of tomorrow,” reinforcing the intergenerational dimension of the Impact Awards. In framing the awards as both an archive and a baton-pass, John and Furnish position legacy not as a static monument but as something actively used to shore up communities under pressure.

A coordinated push from corporate partners

Corporate partners are also foregrounding the awards’ political context, even as they focus on storytelling and celebration. Gayle Troberman of iHeartMedia says the company is “honored to partner with Elton John and P&G” to share the honorees’ stories, and argues that doing so helps “showcase what’s possible when we use our voice to support the organizations on the ground delivering critical support to those in need.”

Brent Miller of P&G states that the company is “proud to celebrate these cultural icons and community organizations” that inspire and support people globally, saying their efforts help “create a world where equality and inclusion are achievable for all.” He adds that honorees use their gifts “in the arts, athletics or community impact” to inspire others with “hope, action and impact,” suggesting a deliberate alignment between corporate messaging and the awards’ emphasis on resilience amid hostility.

Fighting hostility with visibility

Taken together, John’s comments and the structure of the Impact Awards articulate a strategy for facing what he calls a growing swell of political hostility: elevating queer and allied voices, shoring up frontline organizations, and insisting on joy and visibility even under threat. Furnish tells Out that the honorees prove “visibility changes things,” presenting their lives as evidence that open, unapologetic living can shift culture, policy, and individual possibility.

For queer people and allies listening in, the message is straightforward but urgent: this is not the time to retreat. In John’s words, “We are not giving up, and I hope you won’t either,” a reminder that his legacy—as he defines it—rests not only on past hits or past activism, but on whether communities today continue to stand up to hostility and defend what previous generations built.

A viral onstage “confessional”

Earlier in May, Delevingne drew global attention when she joined Spanish singer Rosalía onstage during a London stop of Rosalía’s tour and participated in a theatrical “confessional” segment at The O2 arena. In the bit, Rosalía played a priest while Delevingne, speaking from behind a confessional screen, told the crowd, “If you didn’t know already, I’m a lesbian, and my weakness used to be straight women,” a line that quickly circulated across social media.

Delevingne elaborated onstage that she historically felt drawn to women who identified as straight, describing it as “the challenge” and adding that she did not believe “anyone is fully straight.” She also jokingly suggested that some men “didn’t know how to pleasure their girlfriends well enough,” saying she “did that for them,” a remark that generated both laughs in the arena and debate online about stereotypes, humor, and queer women’s experiences.

Toward the end of the confessional segment, Delevingne shifted from jokes to vulnerability, reflecting on how intimacy dynamics have changed now that she is in a committed relationship with singer Minke. She told the audience that she used to love being “the dominant one” and “taking control” but realized that this was partly because she was “scared of being seen” and hesitant to be emotionally “submissive” and receive love, adding that she now feels ready to let herself be more vulnerable.

From public fluidity to a clear label

Delevingne has previously described her sexuality in more fluid terms, including identifying as pansexual, and has spoken about attraction to more than one gender across several interviews over the past decade. In 2015, she rejected the suggestion that relationships with women were a “phase,” telling The New York Times, “My sexuality is not a phase. I am who I am,” after controversy over an earlier Vogue profile that speculated her attraction to women might be temporary.

Coverage of that 2015 Vogue backlash noted that a writer appeared to link Delevingne’s queerness to her complicated relationship with her mother, prompting criticism from LGBTQ+ advocates who argued that the article pathologized her sexuality. In subsequent years, Delevingne spoke frequently about sexual fluidity and being a queer woman, including in interviews that explored her gender expression and her role in shows like “Planet Sex,” which examined different aspects of global queer culture.

Her most recent comments mark a shift from emphasizing fluidity and resistance to categorization toward explicitly calling herself a lesbian, even as she reiterates that she dislikes being boxed in by any label. An updated entry on her Wikipedia biography also notes that Delevingne publicly revealed she is a lesbian in 2026 after previously identifying as pansexual, reflecting how media records are now integrating her new self‑description.

Discomfort with labels and online scrutiny

In her Variety “Up Next” conversation, released May 29, 2026, Delevingne responded directly to social media debate sparked by the Rosalía tour moment and by her dating history. She noted that after she said “I’m a lesbian” onstage, some commenters insisted “She’s not gay, she’s pan” or referenced her past relationships with men, which she characterized as part of a broader tendency for the public to police queer people’s identities.

Delevingne emphasized that she has “always hated labels” and believes no one should feel obligated to categorize their sexuality in a specific way if it does not feel right. At the same time, she described claiming “lesbian” now as something that feels aligned with her current life and long‑term plans, saying she does not envision being with anyone else and wants to have a family with her current partner.

At one point in the interview, Delevingne added with characteristic humor that she likes to “mess with people” by bluntly stating “I’m a lesbian,” even as she reiterates that no one should be forced to “put a label on” themselves. This mix of playfulness and seriousness underscores how she navigates the expectations placed on high‑profile LGBTQ+ figures to serve as both representatives and individuals with evolving identities.

Sobriety, music, and a new chapter

Delevingne’s reflections on identity came as part of a wider conversation about her personal and professional transformation, including three years of sobriety and the launch of her first full‑length music project. The Variety “Up Next” segment, which runs just over 30 minutes, focuses on how she moved through a period of emotional crisis, including episodes like “crying in the shower,” before allowing herself to make music seriously.

In the interview, Delevingne discusses sharing a music video with friend Taylor Swift, working on a second album even before releasing the first, and weaving queer themes into her creative work. She also mentions everyday details, like the elaborate names she has given her cats, framing these anecdotes as part of a grounded life that coexists with public scrutiny and intense media attention.

Delevingne links her ability to be more open about her sexuality and relationship to the stability she has found in recovery and in a supportive partnership. In recounting how she once coped with internalized shame around her queerness, she positions her current self‑description as a lesbian as part of a broader healing process rather than a sudden change.

Impact on LGBTQ+ representation and labels debate

As one of the most visible queer women in fashion and entertainment, Delevingne’s evolving language about her identity continues to influence broader conversations about sexuality, labels, and visibility. Commentators have previously framed her as part of a “new generation’s queer, feminist It girl,” noting that her public relationships with women and unapologetic gender expression have helped normalize diverse queer experiences for younger audiences.

Her decision in 2026 to publicly call herself a lesbian—after years of speaking about fluidity and rejecting rigid categories—highlights the dynamic nature of sexual identity, especially for people whose lives and relationships unfold in the public eye. By foregrounding both her discomfort with labels and her current pride in claiming one, Delevingne underscores that person‑first language and self‑determination remain central to respectful conversations about LGBTQ+ identities.

Background and context

Heated Rivalry is an LGBTQ+ romance drama based on author Rachel Reid’s Game Changers series, centering on rival hockey stars Shane Hollander, played by Hudson Williams, and Ilya Rozanov, played by Connor Storrie. The first season follows the pair through years of competition and clandestine affection as they balance high‑stakes professional sport with a deeply felt but closeted relationship, and the show has grown from a Canadian hit into an international phenomenon for Crave and HBO Max.

The series has been renewed for a second season, with HBO Max confirming the news in December 2025 via an Instagram video in which Williams and Storrie open a gift box containing a hockey puck emblazoned with “Heated Rivalry” on one side and “Season 2” on the other. In a joint statement, creator Jacob Tierney and executive producer Brendan Brady described watching the show become “an international phenomenon” as “extraordinary” and said they were “profoundly grateful” for the support that led to an early renewal.

The Fabian Salah casting call

Fan excitement around the character Fabian Salah dates back to earlier casting‑call material for season two that circulated online, describing him as an androgynous musician and one of the focal characters of Tough Guy, the third book in Reid’s Game Changers series. The description that caught many viewers’ attention called for a male performer in his late 20s to early 30s of Lebanese descent, with an “androgynous, lean and lithe” look, and designated the role as “series recurring,” indicating an ongoing presence beyond a one‑episode guest spot.

Online coverage of the casting call framed Fabian as a major addition to the ensemble, reflecting the importance of his storyline in Reid’s novels and the broader expansion of the show’s queer and trans‑inclusive hockey universe. That same breakdown also listed several other new characters from across the Game Changers series, including Ryan Price, Eric Bennett, Harris Drover, Wyatt Hayes, Luca Haas, Dallas Kent, and Dr. Galina Molchalina, suggesting an adaptation strategy that weaves together narratives from multiple books.

The Hudson Williams–Abdalla Amour photo

Speculation over Fabian’s casting surged after a recent picture showed Hudson Williams and cast‑mate Kaden Connors posing with Abdalla Amour during the Canadian Screen Awards. Williams plays lead character Shane Hollander, while Connors portrays Sasha, a friend of Ilya Rozanov, and the trio were photographed together on the red carpet at the industry event.

Connors later shared a group shot including Amour with the caption “Proud beyond belief for my Heated Rivalry family,” alongside Rachel Reid and co‑stars Kolton Stewart , Callan Potter , Slavic Rogozine , and Benjamin Roy . Fans quickly interpreted Amour’s presence in the photo, combined with the affectionate “family” caption, as a potential hint that he had joined the cast in a significant capacity.

Supporters also noticed that Amour’s Instagram account follows Tierney, Reid, and Tierney’s production company Accent Aigu Entertainment, which many online commenters viewed as further circumstantial evidence that he could be involved with the show. One Reddit user quoted in coverage said, “If he doesn’t have the role, he must really want it,” while another suggested the photo might have been posted deliberately to “intentionally buzz.”

Who is Abdalla Amour?

Publicly available information describes Abdalla Amour as a Lebanese‑Ukrainian model based in New York City, London, and Canada, reflecting a transnational career in fashion and entertainment. His IMDb page lists appearances in productions including Unsolved Mysteries, The Deep Web, and Strangers, giving him prior screen experience before any potential involvement with Heated Rivalry.

Coverage notes that Amour’s look and background appear to match many of the traits outlined in the Fabian casting notice, particularly the call for a performer of Lebanese descent with an androgynous, lean, and lithe appearance. This perceived alignment has strengthened fan belief that the photo is not a coincidence, even as reporting stresses that no official casting announcement has been made by HBO Max, Crave, or the show’s producers.

Social media reaction and fan theories

On social platform X and other social media channels, viewers of Heated Rivalry reacted enthusiastically to the possibility of Amour playing Fabian, with posts quoted in reporting calling the potential choice “10/10 casting once again” and saying “He would make a good Fabian” and “Oooh! I see the vision!” Some fans argued that sharing the Canadian Screen Awards photos was unlikely to be an accidental reveal and instead might be a calculated way to build anticipation without releasing formal casting news.

Others urged caution, pointing out that public appearances and social media interactions do not confirm employment on a specific production and suggesting that Amour’s proximity to cast and crew might simply reflect professional or community connections. Reporting to date echoes that distinction, describing the reaction as fan speculation rather than verified casting and emphasizing that all information about Amour’s potential role is, at this stage, inference rather than official confirmation.

What’s confirmed about season two

While the Fabian rumors remain unconfirmed, there is more concrete information about Heated Rivalry’s next season. Jacob Tierney and Brendan Brady told CBS Mornings that the second season is currently being written, with filming scheduled to begin in August 2026 and a planned release window in April 2027.

Tierney has said that the new episodes will adapt The Long Game, the sixth Game Changers novel, which revisits Shane and Ilya a decade into their relationship as they continue to hide their love while juggling career pressures and the question of coming out publicly. Entertainment coverage notes that The Long Game storyline includes the couple’s move toward launching a joint charity organization and navigating the emotional cost of secrecy, themes expected to carry over into the on‑screen adaptation.

At BookCon in April 2026, Tierney described The Long Game as “so long” and “so gamey,” and said adapting the book means entering “much more serious territory,” even as flirting and sex remain part of the narrative. He also revealed that characters from Reid’s novel Role Model, including Ottawa Centaurs forward Troy Barrett and social media manager Harris Drover, will appear in the show, further expanding the universe of queer and questioning athletes and professionals whose lives intersect with Shane and Ilya.

Casting philosophy and queer representation

Casting coverage for Heated Rivalry has emphasized the care taken by the creative team to find performers who can convey both the intensity of elite sport and the vulnerability of queer love under scrutiny. In interviews about season one, Connor Storrie has recalled that Hudson Williams was the third actor he read with for the role of Shane and that their chemistry was immediately obvious, prompting Tierney to text for Storrie’s opinion and leading to Williams’ casting.

The show’s success has also sparked wider discussion about the importance of queer‑affirming narratives in mainstream sports storytelling, with commentators noting that Heated Rivalry combines on‑ice action with a tender, explicitly gay love story between two high‑profile athletes. Outlets such as RTE and ELLE have highlighted how the series centers the emotional interiority of its leads—both queer men navigating public expectations and private desire—rather than relegating them to side characters or cautionary tales.

Waiting for official word

As of early June 2026, neither HBO Max, Crave, nor series creators have officially confirmed who will play Fabian Salah, and Amour’s possible involvement remains unannounced. Press coverage consistently characterizes the idea that Amour has been cast as Fabian as fan speculation, not verified fact, despite the confluence of visual, biographical, and social media clues that have energized the show’s online community.

In the meantime, queer and allied viewers continue to celebrate the visibility that Heated Rivalry provides for same‑gender relationships in men’s professional sports, even as they await concrete updates about new characters and storylines. With scripts underway and production slated for later this year, official casting announcements—whether or not they confirm fan hopes for Amour as Fabian—are expected to arrive as the series prepares to return to set.

Bailey told Elton John he was “well aware” of how perceptions of queer actors could affect “commerce” and opportunities, framing his comments in terms of both creative freedom and the business realities of film and television. He said that, at the time, he believed there was an “understanding” that being gay could limit the roles available to him, even as he felt a strong internal resistance to compromising how he lived his life.

During the conversation, Bailey recalled a clear decision not to hide his relationships despite these anxieties. He explained that he “wasn’t gonna not hold my boyfriend’s hand in the street,” describing this choice as something he felt “so strongly in an animal sense,” and adding that, if this visibility did reduce his work prospects, he was “willing to take that risk.”

Earlier industry pressures and limiting narratives

Bailey’s latest comments align with earlier interviews in which he has described hearing, early in his career, that being openly gay could damage an actor’s prospects. In a 2022 profile for GQ Hype, reported by outlets including Bustle, Bailey recounted a story about a fellow actor being told by an industry figure that there were “two things we don’t want to know: if you’re an alcoholic or if you’re gay,” a comment he said shaped his perception of what was possible for out actors.

He has said that hearing this kind of advice contributed to a belief that, “in order to be happy,” he “needed to be straight,” reflecting the internalised pressure created by homophobic industry attitudes. Bailey has also described reaching a turning point where he decided he would rather “hold my boyfriend’s hand in public” or use his own photo on dating apps than hide who he was to secure a role, indicating a shift from fear to a more assertive, values-driven approach to his career.

In an earlier conversation with actor Sir Ian McKellen for Attitude magazine, summarised by Bustle, Bailey said that industry figures, including some who were themselves queer, had once advised him not to come out on the grounds that it could harm his career. He emphasised that he had not been dishonest about his identity, but that he had not previously been encouraged to speak about it publicly, highlighting how silence can be imposed on LGBTQ+ performers without explicit closet demands.

Growing up gay and feeling constrained

Bailey’s reflections at the Elton John Impact Awards follow recent interviews where he has spoken about feeling isolated as a gay student and worried that his sexuality would limit his opportunities. In a 2025 interview with Sky News reported by outlets including Attitude and the Times of India, he said he “felt scared” and “alone” growing up, describing his experience as feeling “entirely limited at various points” in his life.

He told Sky News that, from a young age, “something that was very specific and clear” to him about who he was “wasn’t safe and it wasn’t celebrated,” comparing the feeling to being in a “straight jacket.” In the same coverage, he linked this experience of constraint to broader “limiting narratives” imposed on people across sexuality, race, class and geography, and stressed the importance of breaking free from those scripts.

Bailey also reflected that he once doubted whether he could perform certain kinds of roles, such as Shakespeare, because he had not gone to drama school and because he was gay. He said he “thought not only was I not going to be able to play these sorts of parts because of my sexuality, but that I wouldn’t be able to do Shakespeare because I didn’t go to drama school,” underlining how structural and social barriers can intersect for LGBTQ+ performers from outside traditional training pathways.

Shifts in Hollywood and representation

Bailey’s career has developed at a time of evolving, but still contested, attitudes toward LGBTQ+ representation in mainstream film and television. In a 2025 interview about Jurassic World: Rebirth, he acknowledged that “being an out gay actor” historically meant “you wouldn’t be able to play straight” and that there were very few gay roles to pursue, but he also pointed to positive changes in Hollywood over recent years.

He has said there are “moments where, yes, you have to be excellent to prove that you can do it,” describing the “weight of history” and of “endless brilliant people who have come before” who changed how audiences view sexuality on screen. Bailey linked this to ongoing debates about who can play which roles, arguing that any “sense of prejudice against sexuality is something to fight against,” and suggesting that one way to challenge it is for queer actors to play “any kind of character,” including leading roles in major franchises.

In other interviews, Bailey has spoken about how perceptions of “playing gay” have shifted over time within the industry. He noted that, at different points, straight actors taking gay roles were first seen as taking a risk and later as aligning themselves with a path to awards recognition, underscoring how queer stories can be valued while openly queer performers still face barriers.

Impact for LGBTQ+ youth and audiences

Bailey has repeatedly framed his visibility as a gay man as a way to challenge assumptions and provide representation for younger audiences. Speaking about his role in Bridgerton, he has said he wanted to be open about his sexuality because there might be “a boy somewhere” in one of Netflix’s global territories who sees him and recognises something about their own identity, a perspective that aligns with his comments about breaking “limiting narratives.”

On the Wicked press tour, Bailey told Sky News he wanted to spare LGBTQ+ children the sense of fear and isolation he experienced, describing how he had felt it “wasn’t safe” to be himself when he was younger. He said “it became clear quite early on” that key parts of who he was “weren’t safe” or celebrated, and he has cast his current visibility as part of a broader effort to ensure that future generations of LGBTQ+ young people feel less constrained.

His remarks at the Elton John Impact Awards place this long-running personal narrative—of early fear, industry pressure, and deliberate openness—into a conversation focused on the wider cultural influence of LGBTQ+ artists and advocates. The event, established to highlight contributions and initiatives aligned with Elton John’s longstanding activism, provided a platform for Bailey to connect his individual story of perceived “hindrance” with a broader, ongoing debate about how entertainment industries treat openly queer performers.

Badham, now in his mid‑80s, reflected on the experience while speaking about the legacy of the 1977 dance drama, which turned Travolta into an international movie star and helped cement disco as a defining cultural force of the late 1970s. His account revisits the film’s now‑legendary opening days of production, when crowd control rather than choreography posed the biggest challenge.

A first day shut down by fans

According to Badham, trouble began almost immediately on the first day of shooting exterior scenes in Brooklyn in 1977, when what started as a small cluster of onlookers quickly swelled into a crowd estimated at 15,000 people. He told the Hollywood Reporter’s “It Happened in Hollywood” podcast that fans were so numerous and enthusiastic they appeared in every camera angle, making it nearly impossible to capture even simple shots of Travolta’s character Tony Manero, such as buying a shirt in a local store.

Badham recounted that by lunchtime the production had effectively been shut down because any attempt to roll cameras produced images filled with cheering spectators rather than the carefully staged street scenes the script required. The director emphasized that the crowd was not hostile; instead, it resembled a spontaneous street party centered on Travolta’s sudden star power, which nonetheless made professional filmmaking nearly impossible for the crew.

The estimate of 15,000 fans aligns with long‑standing reports in production histories, which note that the opening days in Brooklyn rapidly turned into a mass gathering once word spread that the popular TV actor from “Welcome Back, Kotter” was filming nearby. Other retrospectives similarly describe a cascade effect in which a handful of school‑age fans grew into hundreds and then thousands, eventually forcing the team to pack up and leave for the day.

Why Travolta mania hit so hard

By the time “Saturday Night Fever” began principal photography, Travolta was already widely recognized in the United States for his role as wise‑cracking student Vinnie Barbarino on the hit sitcom “Welcome Back, Kotter.” Entertainment writers note that his television fame gave him a devoted fan base before he took on Tony Manero, meaning that a location shoot in a dense New York neighborhood quickly turned into a magnet for viewers eager to see him in person.

Film histories describe “Saturday Night Fever” as a relatively modest project at the outset, adapted from journalist Nik Cohn’s article “Tribal Rites of the New Saturday Night,” but one that became a global hit as soon as it reached cinemas. Cohn’s article itself was later revealed to be largely fabricated, but the film’s portrayal of working‑class youth seeking escape through disco resonated widely, turning Travolta into a symbol of a particular moment in urban, dance‑driven nightlife.

For Brooklyn residents in 1977, the presence of a primetime star filming on local streets offered both novelty and pride, further fueling the crowds that disrupted production. Later accounts from cast members, including Donna Pescow, suggest that people packed sidewalks and overran limited security as they tried to get close to the actor whose face they knew from television.

How fake call sheets became a survival tool

In response to the chaos, Badham and his team quickly realized that standard location security would not be enough; instead, they needed to change how, when, and where they shot exterior scenes. Production accounts, including a detailed “behind the camera” feature, say the crew began scheduling outdoor shots as early in the morning as possible—often at or shortly after dawn—so they could finish before word spread and crowds arrived.

Multiple sources report that the production also resorted to generating fake call sheets, internal documents that usually list where and when scenes will be filmed and which cast members are required on set. By circulating misleading schedules that suggested filming would occur at later times or different locations, the team hoped to misdirect any fans who might gain access to information about the shoot.

Badham explained that the early‑morning approach worked well at first, allowing the camera department to secure usable footage before significant crowds gathered. Entries in fan and studio wikis echo his recollection, noting that by combining dawn shoots with fake call sheets, production was “usually” able to finish planned exteriors before Travolta’s presence could draw large numbers of onlookers.

However, Badham said that residents eventually “figured out” the deception embedded in the call sheets, which meant more drastic tactics were needed to maintain a workable filming environment. Once people realized that the official schedules might be false, the reliability of the crew’s decoy paperwork diminished, and each new exterior shoot risked becoming another uncontrolled fan event.

Decoy cars and quick getaways

To keep the crowds guessing, Badham described an additional strategy involving duplicate vehicles meant to distract fans and onlookers. He said the team arranged for two identical cars associated with Travolta’s character: one would be loaded with people and sent conspicuously down the street to draw attention, while the “real” car carrying the actor would head elsewhere so filming could continue without swarms of spectators.

This decoy technique functioned as a mobile version of the fake call sheets—essentially a moving misdirection, aimed at separating Travolta from the largest concentration of fans long enough to shoot key moments. Together with early‑morning schedules and interior fallback sets, these tactics allowed the crew to maintain a semblance of normal production despite the actor’s rapidly escalating fame.

Earlier making‑of documentaries and location retrospectives have confirmed that filming was conducted entirely on location in Brooklyn, including at the now‑demolished 2001 Odyssey disco, which magnified the logistical challenges of working in real neighborhoods filled with residents and passersby. Those sources also reiterate that false call sheets and crack‑of‑dawn calls became standard tools for the production team as they navigated an unusually intense form of local celebrity attention.

Long‑term legacy of a chaotic shoot

“Saturday Night Fever” ultimately opened in December 1977 to critical and commercial success, with Travolta receiving an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor and the film’s soundtrack, led by the Bee Gees, becoming one of the best‑selling albums of all time. The movie’s depiction of disco culture helped propel the genre into the mainstream, while its gritty portrayal of working‑class life in Brooklyn gave it a lasting cultural resonance that continues to draw new audiences.

Production histories now commonly note the contrast between the film’s modest initial ambitions and its global impact, emphasizing how an early, relatively low‑budget project unexpectedly had to cope with superstar‑level attention for its lead actor. The stories of fake call sheets, decoy cars, and dawn shoots now form part of the film’s mythology, illustrating how a local neighborhood production transformed into a global phenomenon before filming even wrapped.

Badham’s latest recollections dovetail with earlier interviews he has given about the making of the film, including conversations around its 40th anniversary and the release of a director’s cut for home viewing. In those discussions, the director has repeatedly highlighted both the artistic ambitions of the project and the logistical difficulties created by shooting a story about nightlife and identity in real, working‑class neighborhoods.

For contemporary filmmakers, the anecdotes offer a reminder that location work involving highly recognizable performers can quickly attract crowds far beyond what a production might anticipate. They also underscore how, even in the late 1970s—long before social media—word of mouth was enough to bring thousands of people to a single block, reshaping the practical realities of shooting a feature film.

Badham’s account focuses on the mechanics of crowd management rather than on personal drama, emphasizing how crew ingenuity—rather than confrontation—allowed the production to move forward. In revisiting those days, he presents Travolta’s fans as enthusiastic rather than threatening, highlighting the ways in which passionate audiences can both celebrate and complicate the work of filmmaking.

Moafi, an Iranian American actor whose past work includes prominent roles in The L Word: Generation Q and Black Bird, joined The Pitt in its second season as an interim chief brought into the chaotic emergency setting known as “the pit.” The series, which has been described in interviews as a cultural “zeitgeist” show, pairs her principled, disruptor‑style physician with Wyle’s established character, generating friction that many viewers extended into speculative narratives about the performers themselves.

Moafi’s Direct Response to “Beef” Speculation

In a recent interview with Variety, widely quoted across entertainment outlets, Moafi was asked directly whether there was any truth to claims of “beef” or a personal rivalry with Wyle and rejected the premise outright. She responded “Absolutely not,” adding that she does not have the power to reshape storylines in the retaliatory way some fan speculation had implied.

Moafi stressed that she and Wyle are “really great colleagues” and emphasized a longstanding, positive working relationship on set. She explained that the trust between them was particularly important during season two’s heavier material, including an emotionally charged episode 15, because that rapport made it feel safe to pursue “darker, dirtier work” in scenes while still joking and “shooting the ” between setups.

Addressing the central claim driving much of the online discourse, Moafi explicitly said it is “completely false” that there is any personal feud or rivalry between the two performers. She added that if any viewers remain unconvinced, “You can check with Noah, but I don’t know about this,” framing the rumors as disconnected from her experience of a collegial, professional environment.

How Fan Theories Fueled the Rumor Cycle

Multiple reports note that speculation about tension between Moafi and Wyle did not originate from on‑record accounts but from fan fiction, social media chatter, and “hot takes” that conflated on‑screen conflict with alleged off‑screen discord. Some viewers interpreted Dr. Al‑Hashimi’s intense clashes with Dr. Robby and the dramatic turn in her late‑season storyline as evidence that creative decisions were driven by a real‑life feud rather than by narrative design.

Coverage summarizing Moafi’s comments notes that the feud narrative “appears to have grown out of fan fiction and social media speculation rather than any verified reporting,” underscoring the gap between audience imagination and documented fact. Entertainment write‑ups also describe the rumor as “completely false,” echoing Moafi’s language while noting that there is no independent evidence of behind‑the‑scenes conflict.

Video segments recapping Moafi’s remarks for broader audiences similarly frame the gossip as unsubstantiated, noting that the actors were “too busy laughing between takes” to be engaged in the kind of turmoil some fans imagined. These segments also highlight that she joined the show as a fan herself, describing initial intimidation that gave way to a “calm and chill” experience working with Wyle and the ensemble.

On‑Set Dynamic and Moafi’s Broader Perspective

Accounts from Moafi and other outlets describe the on‑set atmosphere on The Pitt as collaborative, with Wyle not only acting but also contributing as a writer, director, and executive producer. Moafi has said in separate interviews that joining such an established ensemble felt intimidating at first, but she came to view the experience as an “overwhelming, beautiful moment” of working with “incredible artists.”

Beyond the current rumor cycle, Moafi has spoken publicly about how her family’s refugee story, her advocacy work with organizations such as the International Rescue Committee, and her identity as part of the Iranian diaspora in the United States shape her outlook on visibility and responsibility in the entertainment industry. In that interview, she describes balancing career “exposure” with engagement in ongoing humanitarian crises, emphasizing that using any measure of power to empower others is, in her view, a responsibility and an honor.

While the current coverage centers on dispelling talk of a feud, these earlier comments provide context for how Moafi may be approaching sudden waves of online speculation and the pressures of fandom around a high‑profile series. Entertainment coverage does not suggest any connection between the unfounded feud rumors and her ongoing advocacy, but it does locate her comments within a broader pattern of navigating public scrutiny in a rapidly evolving media landscape.

Looking Ahead to Season 3

In addition to denying any personal rift with Wyle, Moafi has indicated that she expects to return for The Pitt’s already‑announced third season, though details about her character’s exact role and episode count remain unsettled. She has been quoted saying that she is coming back but is “not sure to what capacity,” describing herself as “positive, I think?” about her continued involvement while stressing that specifics of the story are still being worked out.

Reports summarizing Moafi’s comments frame her confirmed return as further evidence that the alleged feud has no basis in production decisions, suggesting that the “beef” narrative has effectively been closed by her on‑the‑record statements. At the same time, coverage points out that creative teams are already at work on the next season, shifting attention from gossip toward questions about narrative direction, time jumps, and cast dynamics as the series continues.

Across outlets, the emerging consensus is that there is no substantiated evidence of animosity between Moafi and Wyle, and that the most concrete developments are Moafi’s unequivocal denial of the rumor and her stated intention to remain part of The Pitt’s evolving story. For viewers and LGBTQ+ audiences who have followed her earlier work and advocacy, these developments situate Moafi as a continuing presence in a series that has attracted intense fan engagement and debate.

The London meeting

On 28 May, Gymskin, whose real name is Jack Smith, spent more than an hour teasing a “surprise” during a live stream before walking through the open door of Madonna’s six‑storey Georgian townhouse in Marylebone, central London. Video clips shared by streaming platform Kick’s official X account show Gymskin entering a ground-floor office space where Madonna sits at a desk, dressed in gym wear with one leg resting casually on the surface.

In the background of the stream, viewers could hear ‘I Feel So Free’, the lead single from Madonna’s forthcoming album Confessions II, which she described during the encounter as the “new ‘Into the Groove’”. The pair then climbed onto the desk together to perform Gymskin’s now-famous shoulder-drop dance that first reignited attention around ‘Into the Groove’ earlier this year.

Kick amplified the crossover moment by posting the clip with the caption “gymskin meets his biggest fan, madonna,” further feeding speculation among fans about the relationship between legacy pop stars and current digital creators. The meeting followed weeks of coverage in music and pop‑culture media about how a short livestream moment had driven both streaming numbers and chart performance for one of Madonna’s most enduring dance tracks.

From “follow that tune” to the charts

The resurgence began when a clip from one of Gymskin’s Kick streams spread across TikTok, showing him walking through the street at night before suddenly hearing Madonna’s ‘Into the Groove’ playing from a nearby venue. Turning to camera, he said the now widely quoted line “Follow that tune” and then dropped his shoulders in time with the music, launching into a playful dance that soon became a repeatable meme.

The trend that followed centred on recreating Gymskin’s shoulder-drop move and lip‑syncing along to the “follow that tune” soundbite, using Madonna’s 1985 single as the backdrop. Within days, the sound was being used by creators across TikTok and Instagram Reels, ranging from everyday users to high‑profile personalities.

British radio and chart outlets reported that the trend had a noticeable impact on streaming numbers, boosting ‘Into the Groove’ on services like Spotify and Apple Music in the UK. The Official Charts Company noted that the song re-entered the UK Singles Chart Top 40 at Number 40, its first Top 40 appearance since the mid‑1980s, before rising further in subsequent weeks.

A 1985 queer‑club staple in 2026

‘Into the Groove’ was originally released in 1985 and quickly became Madonna’s first Number 1 single in the UK, spending several weeks at the top and cementing her reputation as a dance‑pop innovator whose music resonated deeply within LGBTQ+ club culture. The track was associated with her film Desperately Seeking Susan and would go on to be one of her best‑selling singles in the British market.

In early 2026, streaming data showed that the song’s renewed popularity was not limited to nostalgia playlists but driven by a new generation encountering it first through social media, then adding it to their own daily listening. Italian and Brazilian radio outlets highlighted that the track climbed back into the UK Top 20, a milestone it had not reached since September 1985, and entered the Official Streaming Chart for the first time.

Alongside chart successes, commentators pointed out that the resurgence underscores Madonna’s continuing cultural relevance among younger audiences, including many LGBTQ+ listeners who connect with her long history of explicitly supporting lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer communities. The viral trend has also reintroduced the song’s distinctive synth‑driven groove and dance‑floor energy to queer nightlife spaces that have historically embraced Madonna as an ally and icon.

Who is Gymskin?

Gymskin is a British fitness influencer and streamer who is particularly active on the platform Kick and has a large presence on TikTok, where he has approximately 1.2 million followers. Under his @kickhub__ handle on TikTok, he posts a mix of casual street streams, coffee reviews, and spontaneous dance moments that have helped build a dedicated audience.

His age has become a minor point of online debate, with various users speculating about whether he is in his early 20s or early 30s, but he has not publicly confirmed any specific number. In interviews cited by chart outlets, Gymskin has described the chart impact of his Madonna dance as “great for her,” calling Madonna “absolutely iconic” and praising her catalogue, language that underscores the respect he communicates toward an artist who has been influential for many LGBTQ+ fans.

Beyond the ‘Into the Groove’ trend, Gymskin is known among followers for his “burnt the bean” coffee reviews, where he humorously critiques how baristas have prepared his drinks while streaming his daily life around British cities. The blend of everyday routines, fitness content and spontaneous dances has positioned him as a recognisable figure in a creator landscape where relatively small moments can generate global pop‑culture ripples.

Celebrity participation and LGBTQ+ pop legacy

As the “follow that tune” sound spread, a range of public figures joined in, further amplifying the reach of both Gymskin’s meme and Madonna’s track. TV personalities Sam Thompson and Pete Wicks recorded their own version, sharing it via the @stayingrelevantpodcast account on TikTok and promising Wicks a pint if he took part, a post that drew over 1.5 million views.

YouTuber and musician KSI incorporated the dance into a post‑match celebration at a Daggers v Dorking football game, while Cruz Beckham, performing with his band Cruz Beckham & The Breakers, also recreated the shoulder‑roll move popularised by Gymskin. Other influencers, including Fin Morse and George Baggs, contributed their own clips, helping to sustain the trend and drive repeated streams of ‘Into the Groove’ on multiple platforms.

Commentary from music outlets has framed the episode as another example of how older songs, many of which have longstanding resonance in LGBTQ+ club spaces, can find renewed commercial success when embraced by contemporary creators. For Madonna, whose work has frequently centred queer aesthetics and who has historically advocated for LGBTQ+ rights, the 2026 revival suggests that her catalogue continues to offer affirming, dance‑floor‑ready soundtracks for new generations.

New music and what comes next

The London meeting also doubled as informal promotion for Madonna’s upcoming album Confessions II, which is set to include 16 tracks and draw on the electronic and dance‑pop sounds that have been central to her artistic identity. Madonna has already released the lead single ‘I Feel So Free’ on 18 April 2026, positioning it as a spiritual successor to ‘Into the Groove’ in the way it is presented within the stream and in media coverage.

A second track, ‘Bring Your Love’, a collaboration with pop artist Sabrina Carpenter, arrived on 30 April following a surprise joint performance at Coachella, expanding the album’s potential reach to younger pop audiences. The full Confessions II album is scheduled for release on 3 July 2026, with a tracklist that includes songs such as ‘Good for the Soul’, ‘Danceteria’, ‘My Sins Are My Saviour’ and ‘Les Girls’, titles that signal an engagement with both nightclub culture and themes of identity and desire that have long resonated with LGBTQ+ listeners.

Streaming platforms like Spotify are already hosting visual teasers for all 16 song titles through flashing graphics, reflecting an integrated digital rollout that is likely to continue intersecting with user‑generated content on TikTok, Instagram and Kick. As Confessions II approaches, the meeting between Madonna and Gymskin stands as a symbol of how established pop icons and emerging streamers can collaborate—formally or informally—to drive renewed visibility for music that has been meaningful to LGBTQ+ communities for decades.

King, a co-host of CBS Mornings and a long‑time media figure, has previously acknowledged that her marriage ended because of infidelity but had not often described the discovery itself in such vivid terms. In the new interview, she framed the experience as a turning point in both her personal life and her understanding of trust and betrayal in intimate relationships.

The day a canceled flight changed everything

King explained that she discovered the affair on a day when her travel plans unexpectedly changed, leading her to arrive home earlier than her then-husband expected, with their two young children and the nanny in tow. She said her flight had been delayed or canceled, and she did not call ahead to say she was returning early, assuming she would simply walk into a normal day at home.

When King arrived, she immediately noticed that the house alarm was set, which she found unusual because her husband typically did not activate it while he was home alone. She recalled thinking, “That’s strange, you’re in here by yourself,” a small but telling signal that something in the household dynamic had changed.

King recounted that as she entered the home, the alarm sounded and her then-husband, attorney William Bumpus, came “flying” out of the bedroom wearing only a towel, trying to prevent her from going into the room. He reportedly told her that someone was inside and insisted she could not enter, which she said only heightened her suspicion.

Finding a friend “cowering behind the door”

Ignoring his attempts to block her, King said she searched the house until she discovered a woman hiding behind a door, also wrapped in one of King’s towels. She described the woman as “cowering behind the door” in a bath sheet she characterized as a particularly nice towel, underlining the surreal, domestic intimacy of the moment.

King has not publicly named the friend, referring to her as “Casey” in the podcast conversation and noting that the woman was herself married with children who were close to King’s children. The broadcaster said the families were close enough that her children saw the woman as an “aunt,” underscoring how deeply intertwined the two households had become before the affair came to light.

In the interview, King recalled asking the friend how she could be in her house under those circumstances and telling her, “I thought we were friends,” a line she described as “so pitiful” in retrospect. She said the shock of seeing a trusted friend in that position, combined with the presence of her children in the home, intensified the sense of betrayal.

Police, an exit to the train station, and a deeper betrayal

King told Cooper that the incident became chaotic enough that police arrived at the home, responding to the alarm and the disturbance. She recounted that officers recognized her as a public figure, adding a layer of public embarrassment to an already private crisis.

In another detail that has drawn particular attention, King said her then-husband ultimately drove the friend to the train station so she could return to her own husband, whom King called “Richard” for the purpose of the story. She emphasized the irony of being left alone in the house after discovering the infidelity while her spouse ensured the other woman could leave and manage her own marital situation.

King noted that she had previously sensed a subtle shift between her husband and the friend during a social interaction, recalling the way the friend said “Nice shot, Bill” with a look that made her briefly question whether she was imagining tension. She said that when she later confronted her husband about the dynamic, he attempted to “gaslight” her into doubting her instincts, an experience she now interprets as part of a broader pattern of deception.

Confiding only in Oprah Winfrey

Following the confrontation, King said the first and only person she called to share the full story was Oprah Winfrey, with whom she has maintained a close, decades‑long friendship. She described reaching out to Winfrey to vent and process the shock, emphasizing how much she relied on that relationship during one of the most painful periods of her life.

According to King, Winfrey told her that the incident suggested the betrayal had likely been going on longer and more extensively than she realized, encouraging her to acknowledge the full weight of what had occurred. King added that she might not have believed Winfrey if she had voiced those concerns earlier, acknowledging in the podcast that people in painful relationships can sometimes refuse to see warning signs.

King also referenced an “antidote” she said she learned from Winfrey about how some people receive small warnings about difficult truths while others experience major, life‑altering revelations, framing her discovery as one of those dramatic wake‑up calls. She connected that idea to broader patterns of infidelity and denial, noting that ignoring early signs can sometimes lead to more painful exposures later on.

Marriage, divorce, and a later apology

King married Bumpus in 1982, and the couple divorced in 1993 after roughly 11 years of marriage, with King having long said that infidelity was a central reason for the breakup. They share two children, and King has emphasized in past interviews that she worked through the emotional fallout over time and does not identify as bitter about the experience.

In 2016, Bumpus issued a public statement apologizing to King after she referenced the woman she caught him with in a Vanity Fair interview, though that earlier apology has been re‑contextualized in light of the current media attention. More recently, Bumpus has again apologized through a statement reported this week, acknowledging his infidelity and expressing regret for the pain he caused.

In the new reporting, Bumpus is quoted as saying he has nothing but the “utmost respect” for King and that he has long felt remorseful for the betrayal, which occurred nearly four decades ago. King, in turn, has focused publicly on how she rebuilt her life and career afterward rather than dwelling on the specifics of his statements.

Addressing rumors and affirming identities

During the Call Her Daddy appearance, King also addressed long‑running speculation that she and Winfrey are in a romantic relationship, a rumor that has circulated for years and has often been framed through stigmatizing commentary about LGBTQ+ people. She reiterated that their connection is a deep friendship rather than a romantic partnership, pushing back on assumptions about their relationship while affirming the validity of same‑gender relationships more broadly.

The episode’s release has prompted renewed discussion in entertainment and social media spaces about how public figures’ friendships, especially between women, are often sexualized or mischaracterized, including in ways that can both reinforce stereotypes and, at times, dismiss the real experiences of lesbian and bisexual women. Coverage has also intersected with ongoing conversations about betrayal within close-knit communities and how people—of all genders and orientations—seek support after intimate partner violence, infidelity, or emotional harm.

King’s decision to revisit the story now, decades after the events and years into a high‑profile career, positions her narrative alongside a wider cultural trend of people using podcasts and long‑form interviews to share complex personal histories on their own terms. The reaction underscores how stories of betrayal, trust, and healing can resonate across audiences, including LGBTQ+ listeners who may identify with the themes of secrecy, stigma, and the search for chosen family support, even when the relationships at the center of the story are not themselves queer.

The comments refer back to a 2019 concert at Dubai Media City Amphitheatre, where Little Mix performed their ballad “Secret Love Song” as a large rainbow Pride flag filled the stage screens. At the time, local and international outlets noted that the performance took place in the United Arab Emirates, where same-sex sexual conduct can be punished with imprisonment and where public promotion of LGBTQ+ identities is heavily restricted.

‘Let them try’: Edwards on airport fears

Speaking to LGBTQ+ magazine Attitude, Edwards said she clearly remembers the concern surrounding the Dubai show and its aftermath. “I remember our team stressing and everything like that,” she recalled, explaining that staff warned the band there could be trouble when they tried to leave the country following the performance with the Pride imagery.

Edwards said there were specific worries about being stopped at the airport, but that the group responded defiantly. “When we got to the airport, I think it was our team at the time were scared we were going to get pulled at the airport,” she told the magazine, adding that the band’s attitude was: “Oh well, let them try.”

Edwards described the decision to go ahead with the Pride flag as deliberate, even after being warned about the UAE’s stance on LGBTQ+ rights. “At the end of the day we did it because we wanted to do it, and it means so much to our fans,” she said, framing the moment as an act of solidarity with LGBTQ+ listeners who have long embraced the group’s music.

A long-standing LGBTQ+ anthem in a hostile legal landscape

Little Mix performed in Dubai on 23 March 2019 as part of The Assembly: A Global Teacher Prize Concert, sharing the bill with artists including Rita Ora and Liam Payne. During “Secret Love Song,” widely understood as an anthem for people in same-gender or otherwise marginalised relationships, the group performed under a giant rainbow flag projected across the stage screens.

Homosexuality is illegal in the United Arab Emirates, and in Dubai consensual same-sex acts can carry prison sentences, fines and other penalties under a combination of federal and emirate-level laws. Reporting around the time of the concert highlighted that promoting LGBTQ+ symbols or imagery, such as the rainbow Pride flag, can also attract scrutiny from authorities in the country.

Fans and commentators described the moment as unusually bold for a mainstream pop act performing in the Gulf. Social media clips circulated widely at the time, with posts pointing out that the group were performing a song interpreted as a queer love ballad under a Pride flag in a jurisdiction where being openly LGBTQ+ can result in imprisonment.

Previous accounts from Jade Thirlwall and ongoing allyship

Edwards’ fresh comments echo earlier descriptions by bandmate Jade Thirlwall, who has previously written about fearing arrest after the same Dubai performance. In an essay on LGBTQ+ allyship for UK newspaper Metro, Thirlwall said the group had been repeatedly told to “abide by the rules,” including not promoting anything “LGBT+ or too female-empowering,” before deciding they would either stay home or “go and make a point.”

Thirlwall wrote that during “Secret Love Song,” the band performed with the LGBTQ+ flag “taking up the whole screen behind us,” and later received “so many positive tweets and messages from the community.” She said that lying awake in their hotel rooms “s**tting ourselves that we’d get arrested that night” felt worth it after seeing the response from LGBTQ+ fans.

The group’s history of LGBTQ+ allyship predates the Dubai concert, including marching at Manchester Pride and explicitly embracing “Secret Love Song” as a queer anthem dedicated to people in relationships that are hidden or marginalised. Thirlwall and her bandmates have previously stated that their LGBTQ+ supporters are central to their career, and have used tour stops and public appearances to send affirming messages, including dedicating performances to victims of anti-LGBTQ+ violence such as the Orlando Pulse nightclub shooting.

‘A two-way street’ with LGBTQ+ fans

In her new interview, Edwards emphasised that the Pride flag decision reflected Little Mix’s relationship with LGBTQ+ fans rather than a one-off gesture. She described these fans as “such a core fanbase for so many years” and characterised the connection as “a two-way street” in which the group and their supporters “go above and beyond” for each other.

Edwards said the Dubai moment “meant so much to so many people at the time,” adding that if it had led to trouble with authorities, “then so be it,” because Little Mix “didn’t really care about that.” She framed the group’s priority as doing “everything for our fans and for the people that support us,” reinforcing how central LGBTQ+ listeners remain to their public identity even as members focus on solo projects.

In the Attitude interview, Edwards also discussed raising her child in a climate where she wants young people to “be anything you want to be, love who you want to love,” tying her parenting values to broader ideas of acceptance and self-determination. That stance aligns with Little Mix’s public messaging over the years, in which the band has often encouraged fans to embrace their identities and relationships, including LGBTQ+ identities that face legal and social barriers in many parts of the world.

Ongoing resonance of the Dubai performance

Edwards’ recollection comes as she prepares for solo performances and as fans continue to discuss the possibility of a future Little Mix reunion. In the same Attitude interview, she confirmed that the three current members have been in talks about performing together again, though no specific timeline or format has been formally announced.

For many LGBTQ+ fans, the Dubai performance is remembered as an instance of high-profile artists using a global stage to centre a community often forced into invisibility, particularly in regions with restrictive laws. By revisiting the experience in 2026 and underlining the calculated risk the group believed they were taking, Edwards has renewed public attention on how entertainers navigate the tension between local laws and commitments to LGBTQ+ inclusion.

Her account also highlights how LGBTQ+ fans, including lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer people in countries with restrictive laws, often look to global artists and tours for visible affirmation that their identities and relationships are valid. Edwards’ framing of the Dubai Pride flag moment as “worth it” for the people it reached underscores how acts of visibility by mainstream performers can resonate far beyond a single night’s show.

Background and Context

Jackson has been in the public eye since childhood and has spoken in previous years about living with depression, self‑harm, and substance use, including past suicide attempts as a teenager. In 2017 interviews, she discussed using drugs in her mid‑teens and covering track marks and self‑harm scars with tattoos, framing that period as one marked by what she called “self-hatred” and feeling unworthy of living.

In January 2025, Jackson publicly marked five years of sobriety from alcohol and drugs, sharing that she identified as “an alcoholic and a heroin addict” while emphasizing that sobriety allowed her to “show up” for life in ways she could not previously. Earlier this year, she used social media to reflect on how getting sober did not instantly make life easy, describing in a reel that a few years into recovery, things became “very, very, very hard” and that she had to learn to live “on life’s terms.”

‘Really Ugly’ Behavior and Moral Conflict

In the “Trying Not to Die” conversation, released the week of May 26, Jackson drew a sharp line between the values she was taught and the way she behaved while actively using. “The behavior is really ugly,” she said, stressing that the ugliness was “in a moral way, because I was raised to be kind,” not merely “nice.” She described kindness as looking people in the eye and learning a server’s name so she could write it on the receipt, using small acts of consideration as examples of the standard she felt she failed to meet while drinking.

Jackson recalled thinking of herself as “a liar, a cheater, a piece of s---, a thief,” but even in that harsh self‑assessment, she believed she retained some moral grounding from her upbringing. She said that when she drank, that remaining moral compass “goes away” and “goes right out the window,” adding that under the influence, she became “a very vindictive person.”

She linked that shift in behavior to what she recognized as a broader pattern among people living with addiction, describing an “overall reachy, graspy energy” that she now says she sees in other addicts as well. “Reaching for something outside of yourself,” she said, framing that grasping quality as both a symptom of addiction and a source of harm to herself and others.

Treatment, Relapse, and Six Years of Sobriety

Jackson stated that she has been through treatment “several times,” both before and after the point at which she began her current stretch of sobriety. She said she first sought professional help around age 17, noting that she had already been struggling with self‑harm and complicated relationships with food before she ever had a drink or used drugs.

In the interview, she described her addiction as unfolding against a backdrop of “years and years and years of self-hatred,” echoing earlier public comments about long‑term depression and trauma. She confirmed in the podcast and in previous social media posts that she has now been sober for about six years, having celebrated that milestone in early 2026 with an Instagram reel showing moments from everyday life, including time with friends and nature.

Jackson has previously compared getting sober to being in a car accident, saying that “everything I shoved in the back seat moved forward on impact,” and that she is still learning to navigate life without the coping mechanisms she once relied on. In January 2026, she told followers that sobriety did not erase the “very, very, very hard” aspects of living with treatment‑resistant major depressive disorder, obsessive‑compulsive disorder , and complex post‑traumatic stress disorder , conditions she said she continues to manage alongside her recovery.

Public Conversation on Addiction and Stigma

Jackson’s latest remarks join a growing number of celebrity accounts that frame addiction as a chronic health condition intertwined with mental health, rather than a simple failure of willpower. By naming behaviors she now regards as harmful without labeling her past self solely as “bad,” her comments fit into a broader public health approach that emphasizes accountability, treatment, and long‑term recovery support.

Her acknowledgment of “reachy, graspy” behavior toward people and substances also resonates with how many addiction specialists describe the condition—as a persistent drive to seek relief or reward outside oneself, often at severe personal and relational cost. While Jackson did not position herself as a spokesperson for any formal recovery movement, her willingness to describe both her actions and her ongoing mental health diagnoses may contribute to more open discussion about seeking help, especially among young adults and LGBTQ+ people in entertainment who see aspects of their own experiences reflected in such narratives.

Looking Ahead in Public and Private Life

Beyond discussing her addiction history, Jackson continues to pursue her work as a musician and actor, appearing on programs such as “The Morning Show” and promoting her projects while maintaining what she has described as a substance‑free lifestyle. In recent appearances, she has emphasized simple routines—time in nature, creative work, and moments with friends—as part of how she supports her recovery day to day.

Her “Trying Not to Die” interview adds another layer to that public narrative, underlining that the work of staying sober includes confronting painful memories of how she treated others. By labeling her past behavior as “really ugly” while also recognizing the conditions that shaped it, Jackson positions her story as an evolving account of harm, repair, and ongoing recovery, rather than a closed chapter.