The phenomenal success of the television drama Heated Rivalry has ignited a fierce conversation, revealing a troubling undercurrent of misogyny directed at its predominantly female fanbase. Instead of celebrating the show's achievements, a significant portion of the discourse has focused on dismissing and stereotyping the women who adore it.
The 'Wine Mom' Stereotype and Contempt for Female Fans
Since its launch in Canada and the US at the end of November, the series has cultivated an intensely passionate following. The show stars Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander and Connor Storrie as Ilya Rozanov, two professional ice hockey players from rival teams whose secret romance unfolds against immense societal pressure. The actors, affectionately nicknamed 'HudCon' by fans, have become breakout stars, appearing on major US talk shows and seeing their social media posts go viral.
Yet, as columnist Zoe Williams highlights, the narrative surrounding its audience is steeped in sexism. While the show appeals to a broad demographic, including Gen Z women, media attention has fixated on mocking heterosexual women in middle-to-late middle age, often derisively labelled 'wine moms' in the US. Critics have put forward contradictory and demeaning reasons for their enjoyment: the male leads are seen as 'unthreatening'; the story is preferred because it lacks female characters to incite jealousy; or it is dismissed as 'porn without the sex', a simplistic fantasy for women to play with 'sexy man dolls'.
This rhetoric, Williams argues, paints women as simultaneously insatiably horny yet frightened of sex, as shallow consumers who objectify men but prefer cake or wine, and as insecure individuals who cannot bear the presence of other women. This wave of contempt has overshadowed the genuine artistic merits of the series for its viewers.
More Than Fluff: Romance as a Serious, Challenging Genre
To understand Heated Rivalry's power, one must look past the stereotypes about its audience and examine the romance genre itself. Jennifer Prokop, host of the popular US podcast Fated Mates, notes that the TV adaptation is remarkably faithful to its source material, prioritising the beats of a romance narrative over conventional TV pacing.
'Their love is the world; it's almost like their lives don't exist except when they're with each other,' Prokop observes, explaining the show's focused, yearning-driven structure. Far from being 'fluffy and unserious', romance follows a strict formula requiring obstacles and a happy ending, often tackling deeply serious themes.
In Heated Rivalry, the central obstacle is a potent form of homophobia. 'The thing that keeps them from being together is the strong arm of the patriarchy,' Prokop states, drawing a direct parallel to real-world struggles for LGBTQ+ rights. Furthermore, the show presents a radical alternative to mainstream depictions of sex. In contrast to Hollywood's frequent reliance on violent misogyny, the intimacy in Heated Rivalry is consensual and emotionally charged, offering a countercultural narrative.
A Call to Recognise Quality Over Prejudice
The debate surrounding Heated Rivalry has cracked open a wider issue: the persistent devaluation of media primarily consumed by women. Whether fans are drawn to its simmering tension, its original take on a sports romance, or its challenge to patriarchal norms, the reduction of their appreciation to a series of sexist clichés is reductive and harmful.
The ultimate question posed is simple: could the success of the show be accepted not as a peculiar symptom of female desire, but as a result of it being simply good television? The conversation has moved beyond the ice rink, challenging audiences and critics alike to examine why female joy and engagement are so often met with immediate derision and contempt.
