Has the gay best friend trope outlived its place in pop culture?

From Kal Ho Naa Ho(2003) to Dostana(2008), Bollywood has often played queerness for laughs. Shocked reactions to flamboyant caricatures have positioned gay men as props—comic relief, witty sidekicks, or stylish add-ons. The gay best friend was once a welcome representation, despite being a distorted reflection, better than no acknowledgement of the queer community at all. Over the years, these characters evolved into outdated, stereotypical accessories with minimal character development, designed to help the protagonist achieve her dreams, accompanied by fashion-forward fits and sassy remarks. Think Nigel from Devil Wears Prada(2006), who helps the naive Andy navigate her editor’s nightmarish demands, or Oliver T'sien from Crazy Rich Asians(2018), who helps the outsider Rachel Chu understand the ways of the ultra-wealthy. 

In varied editions, these depictions mirror the gay best friend trope, where queer men exist to make the straight protagonist or villain fabulous, akin to an off-the-runway handbag, with no ulterior motive or personal agenda. The plotlines benefit from their queer eye, only to leave them in the background.

Newer narratives have started to shift. Kapoor & Sons(2016) broke ground by portraying a closeted gay man at the centre of a family drama, without reducing his identity to comedy or caricature. Soon after, Made in Heaven (2019–2023) introduced Karan Mehra, one of Indian streaming’s most layered queer characters. He wasn’t a “GBF” stereotype—his story explored ambition, heartbreak, family pressure, and identity with depth. Together, these portrayals signalled a move away from LGBTQ+ stereotypes in Indian media and towards authentic queer representation in Indian pop culture. 

“Real life is not much different,” says LGBTQ+ affirming psychotherapist Vinita Lal. “Before queer people, women have received this exact treatment on and off screen—often relegated to the sidelines, always supporting, but never taking centre stage. Somehow, we ended up doing the same thing when it was our turn to uplift the queer community,” she adds. The problem lies in the repetition of LGBTQ+ stereotypes in media—queer characters are either comic relief or style guides, rarely full humans.  

The Urban Dictionary defines the gay best friend as “the best friend of any hot girl you know, and the key to getting with that girl. Behind every hot girl is a GBF." ‘Behind’ is the keyword here. What began as a tool of imperfect inclusion has slowly turned into a kind of social accessory. In films and in real life, having a GBF was a marker of taste, as proof of modernity or cultural access, comparable to carrying the right handbag or knowing the right reference. Their perceived expertise in fashion, arts and culture, along with their role as confidant, made the gay best friend less about authentic friendship and more about a status symbol. 

For many women,  queer men offered companionship, while for queer men, these friendships have also served as an antithesis of a man sans the archaic notions of masculinity and an entry point into heterosexual spaces. “The gays have often been excluded from cis-het spaces, and women have been their gateway to the heterosexual society,” says photographer Gourab Ganguli. “It might have been wonderful to be included at one point, but it has never led to anything more. The gay best friend has always been overlooked for something more palatable.” 

When the gay best friend trope becomes allyship

However, not everyone resents being a sidekick. Twenty-eight-year-old Bengaluru-based product designer Joshua doesn’t mind the label. “It can be quite fun if you are aware of what you’re getting into. You just can’t expect the same sort of reciprocity or understanding that a lesbian or trans woman or another gay man would bring to the friendship,” he says. For him, cisgender, heterosexual ally is better than having no one in your corner at all. “It can also be culturally beneficial for both. Seeing each other’s unique struggles under patriarchy might help the woman and the gay man become better people,” adds Joshua. Cis women and queer men are both marginalised groups in their own right, he says, and coming together might help address inclusion in a new light.

 “It is important to find people who have the capacity to look beyond what your sexuality brings to the table, and be friends with them,” says performer and writer Aman Roy. “To begin with, your girlfriends shouldn’t be unironically calling you their GBF. There should be a sense of mutual respect where you are regarded as a three-dimensional individual who can’t just be replaced by another queer person when desired.” 

“Once we understand how important and valuable the straight woman-gay man friendship can be, we can do wonderful things,” adds Lal. “We need to realise both these communities were or are largely oppressed—we can’t be operating from that fear and let straight men be the ultimate star of the show.” Will & Grace (1998) and My Best Friend’s Wedding (1997) are apt examples of this subversion, and so are Sex Education (2019) and Kapoor & Sons (2016), demonstrating how this subversion can work when queer characters are written with depth. 

Queer friendships deserve more than borrowed aesthetics 

If we look beyond the cocktail-sipping, brand-conscious, overtly animated stereotype that the gay best friend trope has become in pop culture, we might uncover fuller stories of love, loss, and becoming. Straight audiences—who have constantly built culture on the backs of queer people without proportionately empowering them—must begin to humanise the GBF instead of trivialising their presence, turning queerness into a borrowed aesthetic,  before saying “slay,” or infiltrating queer spaces because their own are riddled with discomfort.

“This constant sidelining of queer people makes for bitter old gays,” adds Ganguli. “But honestly, can you blame them?” Today, however, the GBF might be inching close towards retirement, and it’s about time it must. The understanding of more complex identities among the LGBTQ+ community has resulted in queer people who don’t need a straight person to get into rooms of importance. And straight women who do not trivialise the lived experiences of their ride-or-dies have entered the chat.

The gay best friend tropewas always about someone else’s story; its retirement might finally let queer characters tell their own.  The GBF can still love high fashion or talk about men, but only when these traits are framed within the richness of their queerness, not as proof of their utility to straight narrative. When their purpose moves beyond aiding the protagonist,  their potential as full characters becomes visible —both on screen and in real life. At that point, the best friend who happens to be gay is no longer a quirky accessory but a person with individuality, ambitions, and desires.

Curated by Gaysi Family