The sequel, arriving nearly two decades after the 2006 fashion‑world hit, reunites Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly with Anne Hathaway’s Andrea “Andy” Sachs and Emily Blunt’s Emily Charlton, alongside Stanley Tucci’s Nigel. Yet much of the current conversation has shifted away from nostalgia for the original film toward concerns about how one of the franchise’s only prominent Asian characters is framed in the new installment.

Who is the new character?

At the center of the controversy is a young assistant to Andy Sachs, played by Chinese American actor Helen J Shen in her feature‑film debut. One major report identifies the character as Qin Zhou, described as a Chinese assistant working with Hathaway’s character in the film’s fashion‑media setting. Another widely circulated article referencing the same clip uses the transliteration “Jin Chao” and notes that the character is described as a Yale University graduate and fashion assistant who interacts briefly with Sachs in the teaser.

In the clip, the assistant appears in a buttoned‑up striped shirt, checked skirt, and glasses, with hair clips accenting an overall conservative, school‑inspired look. She quickly recites her Yale education and a 3.86 grade point average, foregrounding her academic credentials in a way that many viewers say feels like a shorthand for the “overachieving Asian nerd” trope within a fashion‑industry story world dominated by style and confidence.

Name and ‘Ching Chong’ slur concerns

Much of the anger has centered on the character’s name, which some Chinese and Japanese social media users say sounds uncomfortably close to “Ching Chong,” a historically racist slur targeting Chinese and broader East Asian communities. Hong Kong outlet Oriental Daily News, cited by South Korea’s The Korea Herald, described the phrase as “a symbolic racist slur historically used in the West to ridicule Chinese immigrant workers in the 19th century,” adding that it evokes “contempt and discomfort” around Chinese accents.

One Reddit user quoted in coverage of the backlash said the name resembled “Zhen Chou,” a phrase that can be translated as “really ugly,” arguing that such a resemblance felt insulting in the context of a high‑profile Hollywood release slated for a major Asian theatrical rollout. A separate X user, quoted by The Star , asked why the character’s name sounded like “Jen Chow,” claiming it “sounds exactly like ‘Ching Chong’” and calling the choice “real suspicious” in a post amplifying the hashtag #BoycottTheDevilWearsPrada2.

Stereotypes about Asian women and workers

Critics have argued that the character’s demeanor and visual styling, combined with her academic boasting, echo long‑standing tropes about Asian women as awkward, bookish, and socially uncomfortable, even when they are highly qualified professionals. One widely shared X post described the character as “an awkward Asian woman who’s a bespectacled, communication‑impaired type who, upon first meeting, immediately starts bragging about her Yale degree and GPA,” calling the clip “stereotype‑riddled discrimination.”

Another user, quoted in both Western and Asian media, said the assistant was depicted with “child‑like dress, glasses, overqualified, Ivy League credentials and at top of her game yet obsequious and insecure of her competency,” adding that “these are not Asian American stereotypes, they’re white women’s fantasies.” A separate X comment called the presentation “lazy stereotypes,” asking, “It’s 2026 and THIS is your Asian rep?” and questioning whether the name, styling, and overall character design reflected an outdated view of Asian professionals in Western media.

The backlash has also highlighted perceived contradictions between the film’s marketing strategy and the on‑screen depiction of this Asian character. In one example, commentators pointed out that the movie’s Asia‑focused promotional campaign includes a Vogue Korea video pairing South Korean K‑pop star Jang Won Young of Ive with Streep and Hathaway, presenting a glamorous, high‑fashion image, while the assistant character in the trailer appears understated and self‑deprecating.

Boycott calls trend across East Asia

Following the clip’s release, boycott calls have trended on social media platforms in China, Japan, and South Korea, with users sharing the hashtag #BoycottTheDevilWearsPrada2 alongside translated critiques of the character’s name and styling. One Japanese X user, quoted in multiple outlets, summarized the sentiment by writing that “even if they graduated from a prestigious school, they’re uncool hits us with the most blatant racial stereotype racism in 2026 and it gives me chills,” accusing the film of using the scene because it was considered “funny.”

The promotional clip has reportedly been viewed tens of millions of times, with one article citing a figure of 26 million views on X alone as of late April, amplifying the debate well beyond English‑language film fandom. Some users from South Korea have been quoted saying that “all the East Asians are pissed off,” and accusing certain Western commenters of dismissing concerns as “overly sensitive snowflakes,” a dynamic that critics say underscores ongoing gaps in how race‑based harms are understood across regions.

Media outlets including The Telegraph and other international publications have summarized the controversy as a dispute over an “Asian caricature,” noting that the backlash could affect the film’s performance in key Asian markets where box‑office revenues are increasingly important for Hollywood franchises. The Telegraph’s reporting stresses that the character is seen by critics as a “caricature” rather than a fully rounded person, a framing that dovetails with broader concerns about token representation in Western media.

Industry pushback and counter‑arguments

Not all responses have aligned with the boycott calls; some industry figures and commentators have rejected the idea that the character is purely a racist trope, instead arguing that the scene is more about generational quirks and contemporary fashion. Filmmaker Joseph Kahn, who is not involved with The Devil Wears Prada 2, argued on X that the assistant’s outfit is “actually very couture in a film about fashion” and claimed that the character reads more as a caricature of Gen Z neurodivergence rather than a racial stereotype.

Kahn also suggested that differences in body shape between Shen and Hathaway partly reflect the star’s reported desire for “diversity of sizes” on screen, arguing that this could be interpreted as either a genuine inclusion effort or a way for the lead actor to remain “the skinniest and tallest onscreen,” a comment that has itself invited debate over body image and representation in Hollywood. He further contended that “nerds don’t exist in Gen Z because they’re all awkward freaks and all dress like Nintendo cartoons,” a remark that some readers have interpreted as dismissive of both fans’ concerns and the specificity of anti‑Asian tropes.

As of late April, 20th Century Studios has not issued a formal public statement addressing the allegations of racism or the character’s naming, despite requests for comment from outlets such as The Independent and reports of mounting backlash in major Asian markets. Coverage indicates that neither the main cast nor the studio has directly engaged with the #BoycottTheDevilWearsPrada2 campaign on social media so far, leaving the controversy to play out largely among viewers, activists, and commentators.

Release strategy and Asian markets

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is scheduled for a global rollout that places Asia at the forefront of its premiere strategy, underscoring the economic stakes of the current backlash. The film is slated to have its global premiere in South Korea on April 29 before opening in China on May 1, with a wider international theatrical release also set for May 1.

According to figures reported by Seoul Economic Daily and cited by The Independent, advance bookings in South Korea had already reached at least 44,933 tickets with a 15.5 percent reservation rate as of late April, signaling strong initial interest despite the emerging controversy. The Star notes that promotional stops by Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway in Shanghai on April 10 and Seoul on April 8 drew significant attention, suggesting that the film’s team has invested heavily in building goodwill and visibility in the region.

However, the juxtaposition of high‑profile promotional events and the backlash over a key Asian character’s portrayal has led some commentators to question whether Hollywood studios are aligning their on‑screen narratives with the diverse audiences they seek to court. For many Asian viewers and Asian diaspora communities, including queer and trans people who already face layered marginalization, criticism of the character is being framed as part of a broader call to move beyond token roles toward nuanced, person‑first depictions of Asian professionals, creatives, and assistants in global franchises.

As The Devil Wears Prada 2 approaches release, the debate over its Asian assistant character has become a flashpoint in ongoing conversations about race, gender, and power in entertainment, raising questions about who gets to define “humor,” “fashion,” and “relatability” in stories consumed by global audiences. Whether the studio ultimately revises its marketing, addresses the concerns directly, or leaves the existing portrayal unchanged may influence how Asian viewers—and other marginalized communities—see themselves reflected in one of the year’s most anticipated sequels.

In a follow‑up Instagram post, Kim used a train metaphor, describing the pair as “two trains on different tracks” and asking fans and media to respond with kindness and compassion as they process the news. PinkNews also quoted Kim as saying that the two are “two different railroads on two separate lines” who will “always support each other when times call for it and cheer each other on from afar,” reinforcing the message that their breakup does not end their mutual support.

Tina’s emphasis on a mutual decision

Caruso confirmed the separation on her own Instagram feed, posting a photo of the pair dressed as “Wicked” characters Glinda and Elphaba and referring to the breakup as “mutual.” She wrote that “Pari and I have split up” and clarified that they are “just friends now,” while expressing optimism about continuing to advocate side‑by‑side on shared causes.

In her post, Caruso described herself as “the Elphaba” in their Glinda‑and‑Elphaba dynamic, saying she “can’t wait to show the world” how she advocates, and added that she hopes the two can still advocate together as friends “for things we believe in like public transportation and disability advocacy.” Both reality stars framed their breakup as a transition rather than an end, with Caruso underscoring that their shared commitment to disability and transit advocacy remains important to them even outside a romantic partnership.

Background: a relationship that began on screen

Kim appeared on the third season of “Love on the Spectrum U.S.,” which aired in 2025 on Netflix and followed autistic adults navigating dating and relationships. The series, adapted from the Australian original that ran from 2019 to 2021, focuses on autistic people’s experiences of intimacy, communication, and romance in a documentary‑style reality format.

According to PinkNews reporting, Kim went on the show hoping to meet someone who shared her enthusiasm for local train networks, a passion that later became a recurring theme in her public persona and social media presence. She and Caruso connected during the third season and, as depicted on the series, appeared to bond quickly over their interests and values, forming a relationship that continued off camera.

A year together and continued representation

PinkNews reports that the couple remained together for roughly a year after their first on‑screen date, reflecting one of the longer‑term relationships to emerge from the U.S. iteration of the series. During that period, Kim and Caruso represented LGBTQ+ people on the show, adding queer visibility to a format that centers autistic lives and relationships.

The pair also appeared in a cameo during the show’s fourth season at the engagement party of fellow cast members Madison Marilla and Tyler White, where they were portrayed as still happily together at the time of filming. Their presence across seasons reinforced continuity for viewers and highlighted that autistic and queer relationships, like all relationships, can evolve over time in ways that are sometimes visible and sometimes private.

Social media reactions and personal framing

Kim’s posts about the breakup placed strong emphasis on kindness, with one message quoted by TMZ in which she urged people to “lead with kindness and compassion” regarding media coverage and public commentary. She described herself as having “spoken my truth,” suggesting that sharing the news directly with fans was important to her sense of agency and authenticity.

In responses highlighted by PinkNews, Kim reiterated in Instagram comments that she and Caruso are “still friends” and that both want to have “T‑riffic lives,” continuing to weave her train‑themed wordplay into messages about emotional resilience and mutual support. Caruso, in turn, used her own post to stress shared advocacy goals, underscoring that while their romantic relationship has ended, their public roles as autistic self‑advocates and LGBTQ+ representation on screen are ongoing.

The wider “Love on the Spectrum” context

“Love on the Spectrum” began as an Australian series in 2019, originally produced for ABC Australia, before its format was adapted for a U.S. edition on Netflix that centers autistic adults in North America. The Australian version ran through 2021, and the American version has since reached at least four seasons, with the fourth season described by PinkNews as having “recently returned” to Netflix.

The show has been noted for its focus on autistic people’s lived experiences, including communication preferences, sensory needs, and the challenges and joys of dating, while also facing ongoing discussion about how reality TV formats portray disabled and neurodivergent communities. Within that landscape, Kim and Caruso’s relationship stood out as one of the show’s queer pairings, adding representation for LGBTQ+ autistic people who may see aspects of their own identities reflected on screen.

Other recent cast breakups

TMZ notes that Kim and Caruso’s breakup follows another separation among prominent “Love on the Spectrum” cast members, Abbey Romeo and David Isaacman, whose split after nearly five years of dating was reported just weeks earlier. PinkNews similarly reports that Romeo, a main cast member across the first three seasons of the U.S. series, recently ended her long‑term relationship with Isaacman, who also appeared on the show.

These successive breakups among recognizable cast members have drawn renewed attention to the realities that relationships, including those highlighted in reality series about love and disability, may change after filming concludes. Coverage from both outlets has focused on the person‑first perspectives of the cast, emphasizing their own words and framing rather than external speculation about the reasons behind the splits.

Ongoing advocacy and visibility

By highlighting public transportation and disability advocacy in their breakup statements, Kim and Caruso explicitly linked their personal news to their broader social commitments. Caruso’s reflection that they are like Glinda and Elphaba “in the way we advocate for what we believe in” signals her intention to keep leveraging her platform for issues she cares about, whether or not she and Kim are a couple.

Kim’s description of their lives as “two different railroads on two separate lines” while still cheering each other on underscores a model of breakup communication that foregrounds mutual respect and ongoing solidarity. Together, their statements contribute to a public narrative in which autistic and LGBTQ+ people navigate relationship transitions with transparency and care, pushing back against stereotypes that deny neurodivergent and queer communities complex emotional lives and agency.

What’s next for the series and the stars

“Love on the Spectrum U.S.” remains available to stream on Netflix, with the fourth season — featuring Kim and Caruso’s engagement‑party cameo — currently part of the platform’s reality lineup. Neither Kim nor Caruso has publicly announced detailed future projects or new relationships in connection with their breakup posts as of late April 2026.

For now, their messages indicate a focus on their individual paths, continued activism around disability and transportation, and a friendship they both say will continue beyond their time as a couple. As fans revisit their journey on the show, Kim and Caruso’s public handling of their breakup adds another chapter to the broader story of how autistic and LGBTQ+ people use media platforms to shape narratives about love, change, and community on their own terms.

Appearing on Rolling Stone’s Nashville Now podcast, Ne‑Yo explained that his move into country music came with a flood of warnings about the genre’s reputation for insularity, particularly for Black artists seeking entry into the format. He described people cautioning him that “they’re not really accepting of anything outside of what they do over there,” adding that he was told Nashville could be “cliquey” and resistant if a person lacked the right connections.

Those warnings echo long‑running conversations about race, genre boundaries, and who is welcomed—or shut out—within mainstream country, debates that have also affected Black women, queer artists, and other marginalized performers. While Ne‑Yo has not framed his own experience specifically in terms of sexuality or gender identity, these broader industry patterns shape the cultural landscape that both LGBTQ+ and Black creators navigate in Nashville and beyond.

“Embraced with open arms”

Despite going in with tempered expectations, Ne‑Yo says the reality of working in Nashville has been markedly more welcoming than he was led to believe. “Every single person I’ve worked with out here has embraced what I’m trying to do with open arms,” he said, describing the community’s reaction as both curious and supportive of his genre‑blending ambitions.

Ne‑Yo added that collaborators in “Music City” have been “interested and intrigued” by his effort to fuse his R&B instincts with country traditions, rather than pressuring him to abandon his musical roots. He noted that “everybody’s just been really receptive,” quipping that he is still “waiting to meet whoever the hell it is that is going to be the bane of my Nashville experience” because his time there has been so positive so far.

His comments land at a moment when Nashville’s relationship with artists of color and genre‑fluid performers is under intense scrutiny, and stories of welcoming creative spaces can hold particular resonance for Black, queer, and genre‑nonconforming musicians looking for evidence that the city can be a safer, more inclusive place to work. At the same time, Ne‑Yo’s praise for his collaborators does not erase ongoing structural barriers that many marginalized artists continue to report, underscoring how individual experiences can differ widely within the same ecosystem.

Dolly Parton as a storytelling blueprint

As he steps into country spaces, Ne‑Yo has been explicit about the creative North Stars guiding his new work, placing Dolly Parton at the center of that constellation. He said he “fell in love with the storytelling elements” of country, spotlighting Parton’s “Jolene” as a prime example of the kind of songwriting that draws him to the genre.

Ne‑Yo praised the “cleverness of the lyric” and the “vulnerability of the lyric” in songs like “Jolene,” calling it “such a human song” because of its open, pleading narrative. He contrasted that emotional honesty with what he sees as a more ego‑driven streak in much of contemporary music, highlighting that in Parton’s song, “She’s literally begging another woman not to steal her man,” a stance that showcases fragility instead of bravado.

Ne‑Yo also cited Reba McEntire, Garth Brooks, and Clint Black as country artists who shaped his understanding of what narrative‑driven songwriting can do, rounding out a list of influences rooted in mainstream, legacy country. For LGBTQ+ fans and artists who have long embraced Dolly Parton as an icon of camp, kindness, and allyship, Ne‑Yo’s admiration for her storytelling highlights how country’s emotional core can resonate across genres, identities, and fan communities.

“Country‑inspired,” not claiming the label

Even as he invests deeply in Nashville collaborations, Ne‑Yo is careful about how he labels this new chapter. Speaking to The Tennessean in September 2025, he said, “I’m not a country artist,” describing this project as his “first official attempt at trying to naturally transition into creating something in the country lane.”

He added that, given his newcomer status in the genre, “it’s disrespectful to call myself a country artist,” emphasizing instead that his music is “more than anything…country‑inspired.” That framing acknowledges both the traditions and communities that have defined country music for decades and the long struggle many boundary‑pushing artists face to get recognition when they sit at the edges of genre definitions.

For listeners who live at intersections of multiple identities—such as Black LGBTQ+ country fans who rarely see themselves reflected at the center of Nashville’s mainstream—Ne‑Yo’s willingness to honor the culture he is entering while being transparent about his outside perspective can read as a gesture of respect. His insistence on describing this phase as a fusion, not a takeover, leaves room for country’s existing communities, including queer and transgender artists who have been steadily building their own spaces in and around the city’s institutions.

A broader conversation about inclusion

Ne‑Yo’s account of being “embraced” by the Nashville scene arrives during a broader reckoning over who country music is for and how inclusive its gatekeepers truly are. While he reports an overwhelmingly positive response from collaborators and industry figures, many Black, queer, and gender‑diverse artists continue to share stories of exclusion, tokenization, or pressure to conform to narrow expectations around image and sound.

Ne‑Yo’s experience suggests that, at least in some corners of Nashville’s creative community, there is genuine curiosity about cross‑genre collaboration and openness to artists who do not fit traditional molds. For LGBTQ+ country fans, this kind of environment—where difference is treated as a source of artistic possibility rather than a problem to be fixed—can be a crucial step toward building spaces where queer and transgender people are welcomed not only as audiences but as central storytellers.

At the same time, Ne‑Yo’s positive assessment does not erase systemic inequalities in country radio, award shows, or label rosters, where marginalized artists still face obstacles. The contrast between his optimistic outlook and the wider critiques of Nashville can invite industry leaders and fans alike to ask who is being embraced, who is still being left at the margins, and what it might take for the city’s “open arms” to extend fully to Black, queer, and gender‑diverse artists across the board.

In an interview on the red carpet, Hathaway explained that the decision to speak up came from wanting the film to reflect a more inclusive vision of beauty that aligns with current conversations in fashion. She told Canadian outlet Etalk that she saw “a lot of traditionally sized models” on set and felt compelled to act because she views the sequel as a movie “for everyone” and believes that “everybody feels included” when beauty standards are more expansive.

What Hathaway asked for — and how producers responded

Hathaway said her intervention was straightforward: she approached the film’s producers and asked whether the sequence could feature a more inclusive range of sizes, framing the request as a creative question about what would make the scene more enjoyable and resonant for viewers. According to her accounts in Etalk and Variety interviews, the producers responded with what she described as humility, saying they were “embarrassed” they had not noticed the lack of size diversity and quickly moved to adjust the casting.

Hathaway recounted that, after the conversation, new models were brought in within a matter of hours, significantly changing the look and feel of the runway crowd for the scene. She described the swift response as something that “made happy” and emphasized that sometimes meaningful change on set “begins with the question” when actors use their influence to raise concerns respectfully.

Meryl Streep’s praise and earlier disclosure

The story of Hathaway’s advocacy first reached a wider audience in March, when Meryl Streep shared details of the incident in an interview with Harper’s Bazaar. Streep said she had been “struck” by how “alarmingly thin” some of the models on set appeared and added that she had assumed such extreme runway thinness had been addressed by the industry “years ago,” only to realize it remained an issue.

According to Streep, Hathaway “clocked it too” and immediately approached producers to secure a commitment that the models in the film’s fashion show sequence “would not be so skeletal,” a move Streep praised as the action of a “stand-up girl.” Streep’s comments framed Hathaway’s intervention as both a creative decision and a values-driven one, aligning with broader pushback against extremely restrictive beauty standards in fashion and entertainment.

A sequel shaped by changing standards

“The Devil Wears Prada 2,” scheduled to arrive in theaters on May 1, 2026, revisits the fashion-media world two decades after the original film while introducing a new generation of characters and industry dynamics. The production has leaned into a larger scale than its predecessor, including filming some sequences during live runway shows at Milan Fashion Week, a choice that places the sequel more directly inside today’s global fashion ecosystem.

Variety reports that, as with many modern sequels, the new film features a more visibly diverse cast than the 2006 original, adding performers such as Lucy Liu and “Bridgerton” actor Simone Ashley to the ensemble. Ashley has said she feels “honored” to join a project that, in her view, aims to represent women “in a real way,” a framing that resonates with the production’s emphasis on more inclusive casting both on the runway and in speaking roles.

New cast members reflect broader inclusion efforts

Among the new faces is Helen J. Shen, a 26-year-old Chinese American actor who plays the latest assistant to Streep’s character, Miranda Priestly. Shen credited Hathaway with “leading by osmosis” on set and said she was encouraged by the star’s decision to speak up about body diversity, linking it to a more inclusive atmosphere across the production.

Shen told Variety that, looking back 20 years, she doubted she would have been cast in a film like the original “The Devil Wears Prada,” underscoring how representation in fashion stories has shifted over time. She added that she hopes people who have felt that fashion offices or high-fashion spaces are not for them will feel more welcomed by seeing a broader range of identities and body types reflected on screen.

Body diversity, audience connection, and cultural context

Hathaway’s comments emphasize a belief that body diversity is not only an ethical or representational concern but also a storytelling choice that affects how audiences experience a scene. She told Variety that she thought the fashion show sequence “would be so much more enjoyable for the audience” if the production displayed “a wider range of bodies,” connecting inclusion to the emotional impact and relatability of the film.

In her Etalk remarks, Hathaway also referenced ways the fashion industry has moved toward more inclusive beauty standards “in the last few years,” saying she believes people are “kind of happier when it’s like that, when everybody feels included.” Her framing positions size-inclusive casting as part of a broader shift in how fashion and media portray bodies, one that intersects with ongoing conversations about representation of women, LGBTQ+ people, and other historically marginalized groups in visual culture.

Responses from fans and industry observers

Early clips and interviews from “The Devil Wears Prada 2” premiere have prompted discussion on social media and entertainment platforms about the sequel’s approach to inclusion, including both its casting choices and its depiction of fashion spaces. Some commentators have connected Hathaway’s intervention on size diversity with broader calls for more inclusive casting that better reflects the diverse audiences who engage with mainstream fashion narratives.

Red carpet interviews posted online show Hathaway and other cast members fielding questions about how the sequel updates the original film’s dynamics, including conversations about work culture, power, and representation. While full critical reviews are still emerging ahead of the May 1 theatrical release, the cast’s public focus on diversity—across body size, ethnicity, and character perspective—positions the film as part of a broader entertainment trend toward more inclusive storytelling in established franchises.

The power of on‑set advocacy

Hathaway’s account of the incident underscores how actors with significant influence can use their positions to nudge large productions toward more inclusive practices, whether in background casting or in headline roles. She described producers as initially “locked in” and “going with the flow,” suggesting that raising the issue prompted them to reconsider default choices that might otherwise have gone unchallenged.

For cast members like Shen, Hathaway’s willingness to speak up became an example of leadership that shaped not just a single scene, but the tone of the production overall. Within the wider industry, such decisions are often watched closely by filmmakers, performers, and fans who hope large studio projects will mirror the diversity of the communities they serve, including people of different sizes, races, genders, and sexual orientations.

A franchise evolving with its audience

Two decades after the original “The Devil Wears Prada” became a cultural touchstone, the sequel arrives in a markedly different media landscape, where representation and inclusion have become central topics in both fashion and film. The decision to foreground stories about body diversity and to cast a more varied ensemble suggests the franchise is attempting to evolve alongside its audience, which now includes younger viewers for whom inclusivity is often a baseline expectation rather than an added bonus.

For Hathaway, that evolution is reflected not only in the narrative arcs of returning characters but also in the practical choices that shape what audiences see on screen, such as who appears on the runway and how their bodies are framed. Her call for size-inclusive casting contributes to a broader cultural push to ensure that fashion-centered stories—and the industries they depict—offer space for people of many body types and identities to feel seen, valued, and beautiful.

The series consists of eight 15‑minute episodes and is produced by Hat Trick Productions, the company behind the original Smoggie Queens. Episode one, featuring television personality Rylan, was released in the week of 22 April 2026, with the first half of the series made available weekly and the remaining episodes scheduled for the end of May.

From sitcom to “Smoggie‑verse”

Smoggie Queens, set in Middlesbrough, follows a tight‑knit queer chosen family navigating life, love and community in an under‑resourced northern town, with Phil Dunning’s Dickie at its emotional and comedic centre. Since its BBC Three debut in 2024, the show has won awards including a Royal Television Society North East and the Border comedy award and a newcomer prize for Dunning, helping cement its status as a distinctive LGBTQ+‑led comedy.

The Dickie Show is framed by producers as an expansion of this world, with Hat Trick series producer Chris Jones describing the project as a chance “to expand the Smoggie‑verse wider for the BBC” while keeping the established ensemble firmly involved. Alongside Dickie, the chat show brings back drag mother Mam, stylish friend Lucinda, musical performer Sal and all‑round helper Stewart, played respectively by Mark Benton, Alexandra Mardell, Patsy Lowe and Elijah Young.

While Smoggie Queens continues as a scripted sitcom, The Dickie Show positions these characters in a semi‑improvised talk‑show environment, blurring lines between sketch, chat and character comedy.
The garage‑studio setting maintains the working‑class Teesside backdrop while giving Dickie a new platform as a chaotic but affectionate host to a mix of mainstream and LGBTQ+‑inclusive celebrity guests.

Celebrity guests and format

Across its eight‑episode run, The Dickie Show will feature a line‑up of well‑known guests, including Rylan Clark, Derry Girls actor Siobhán McSweeney, television doctor Dr Ranj Singh, comedian James Acaster, broadcaster Vanessa Feltz, presenter Steph McGovern and screenwriter‑producer Russell T Davies. Actor Mark Benton, who plays Mam in the sitcom, is also listed among the celebrity guests, effectively appearing in dual form as both part of the core ensemble and a named draw for viewers familiar with his broader television work.

The show’s premise centres on Dickie interviewing these guests in a “homespun chat show” filmed in the back of Mam’s garage, with his friends frequently disrupting or derailing the proceedings in ways designed to generate comic tension. Publicity materials describe the group as “causing trouble rather than helping,” suggesting a format where the ensemble acts as both production team and on‑screen agents of chaos around Dickie’s interactions with invited guests.

Episode one, which pairs Dickie with Rylan, is currently available on BBC iPlayer and the BBC’s YouTube presence, with media coverage highlighting the episode’s emphasis on sharp, occasionally confrontational humour delivered from Dickie’s perspective. The producers have not publicly detailed a full episode‑by‑episode guest schedule, but announcements suggest that the guest roster spans comedy, entertainment and queer‑inclusive television and media, including Russell T Davies, a prominent writer and producer associated with LGBTQ+ storylines.

Voices behind the show

Phil Dunning, who created, wrote and stars in Smoggie Queens, leads The Dickie Show as both performer and central creative voice. Dunning has been recognised with a Royal Television Society North East and the Border best newcomer award for his work on the original series, and he now brings that character‑driven approach to a looser, interview‑based format.

In statements released with the spin‑off’s announcement, Dunning joked that “giving Dickie his own chat show is crazy behaviour from the BBC” and offered “apologies in advance to all the celebrities he will inevitably offend,” signalling a tone that embraces risk‑taking humour while remaining grounded in character. Hat Trick series producer Chris Jones said the team was “thrilled” to broaden the “Smoggie‑verse” with a YouTube chat show that Dickie has “roped Mam, Lucinda, Stewart and Sal into basically organising for him,” describing the project as “very on brand” for the series.

The Dickie Show is a Hat Trick production for BBC YouTube Channels and BBC iPlayer, with commissioning led by Jon Petrie, the BBC’s director of comedy. Executive producers include Gregor Sharp and Jamie Maisner for the BBC, and Jimmy Mulville and Jessica Sharkey for Hat Trick, with Chris Jones serving as series producer and Jake Dale as producer.

BBC’s YouTube comedy strategy

The Dickie Show forms part of a broader BBC strategy to commission short‑form, personality‑driven comedy that can reach audiences on YouTube and drive viewers toward BBC iPlayer. Press materials position the series as one of several experiments in digital‑first commissioning, explicitly highlighting YouTube as a key platform rather than treating online releases as secondary to broadcast.

Jon Petrie, director of BBC Comedy, said the corporation is “continu to experiment with comedy on YouTube” and joked that the team is “sending Dickie off to show Claudia Winkleman exactly how not to do it in The Dickie Show,” underlining the project’s deliberately anarchic spin on the chat‑show format. Petrie also described the series as a test of what he called a “great comedy character,” arguing that the measure of such a figure is whether they still make audiences laugh when placed “in a completely new world,” something he said The Dickie Show demonstrates by transplanting Dickie and friends from narrative sitcom into chat‑show territory.

The series’ short‑form structure—eight episodes at around 15 minutes each—aligns with the BBC’s emphasis on creating content tailored to digital viewing habits, where viewers often watch on mobile devices and engage with episodes in shorter bursts. As part of that strategy, The Dickie Show is being used to bring viewers directly into the Smoggie Queens universe, with the hope that new audiences who discover Dickie via YouTube will then explore the original series on BBC iPlayer and BBC Three.

LGBTQ+ representation and upcoming series two

Smoggie Queens centres on LGBTQ+ friends in Middlesbrough and has been widely noted for its focus on queer chosen family, regional identity and working‑class experiences in an area that is often under‑represented on national television. The Dickie Show extends that representation into the chat‑show space, keeping drag performance and queer community at the forefront while introducing a broad slate of guests from across British entertainment.

Media coverage describes Phil Dunning as an RTS winner and BAFTA‑nominated performer from Middlesbrough, reflecting both industry recognition and the significance of a northern, queer‑led show expanding its reach through a mainstream broadcaster’s digital channels. LGBTQ+ publication Attitude reported that the spin‑off arrives alongside confirmation that Smoggie Queens will return for a second series in May 2026 on BBC Three and iPlayer, with the main cast—including Dunning, Benton, Mardell, Lowe and Young—due to reprise their roles.

According to announcements, series two of Smoggie Queens is expected to build on the first season’s awards and nominations, though full plot details and any new characters have not yet been detailed publicly. By launching The Dickie Show just ahead of the second series, the BBC is timing the spin‑off to keep audiences engaged with the Smoggie Queens world across both scripted and unscripted formats, while centring a drag performer and queer community in a high‑visibility digital space.

According to reporting on the viral segment, Larsson recounts that another girl secretly filmed the kiss and sent the footage to her best friend, turning a private mistake into a public rupture within their social circle. She says the fallout was severe: her entire friend group cut ties with her, leaving her feeling isolated and intensely guilty as a teenager navigating the emotional consequences largely on her own.

“A floating piece of trash” — Larsson’s own words

In reflecting on that period during the podcast conversation, Larsson uses stark language to describe her emotional state, saying she felt like “a floating piece of trash in the universe.” She links that feeling to the combination of losing her support system, facing the anger of people she cared about, and being confronted with her own role in the betrayal.

Larsson is reported as framing the incident as a one-time mistake that does not represent her values, emphasizing that she was not emotionally invested in the boy and that alcohol significantly impaired her judgment. Now 28, she characterizes the episode as a formative experience that shaped how she thinks about relationships, consequences and the weight of actions taken in adolescence.

Viral clip and split public reaction

Coverage of the resurfaced clip notes that it has been widely shared across platforms such as X , where it has drawn millions of views and sparked intense commentary about betrayal, accountability and the nature of public apologies. While precise view counts vary by platform and are not fully aggregated, outlets describe the clip as “viral” and highlight that it has become the center of an online debate.

Some users on X argue that Larsson’s behavior at 16 represented a serious breach of trust, suggesting the friendship breakdown was an understandable consequence of her actions. IndiaTimes cites posts framing her as “always a bad person” and accusing her of “trying to play the victim,” though the site notes these as individual social media reactions rather than representative polling.

Other commenters focus on the privacy dimension, pointing out that a third party chose to film and distribute the kiss without Larsson’s consent, effectively exposing a personal situation to wider scrutiny even within a school-aged peer group. That detail has fed discussion about the ethics of recording and sharing intimate moments, especially when those involved are minors and may already be vulnerable to social ostracization.

Accountability, forgiveness and internet memory

The resurfacing of the anecdote comes at a time when Larsson is already a prominent figure in global pop, known for speaking candidly on social issues, including gender equality and reproductive rights. Earlier this month, she disclosed that she lost a reported $3 million brand partnership after engaging in dark humor around abortion in a TikTok comment, underscoring how her public statements can carry significant professional consequences.

In that separate interview, Larsson said she did not regret prioritizing her views over the partnership, calling those who pulled out “losers” and emphasizing that she supports open, sometimes uncomfortable conversations about abortion and reproductive autonomy. Commentary around both the brand deal and the resurfaced kissing anecdote highlights the tension between holding public figures accountable and recognizing their right to make mistakes, learn, and articulate complex views on sensitive topics.

Media coverage notes that for some fans, Larsson’s willingness to revisit painful or controversial moments resonates as an example of a young adult acknowledging harm while also situating that harm in the context of adolescence and social pressure. For others, the tone of the podcast — where Larsson appears relaxed and occasionally laughs while describing the incident — is seen as discordant with the seriousness of breaking a friend’s trust, fueling criticism that she has not fully reckoned with its impact.

The episode also reflects broader concerns about how the internet can resurrect older clips and stories, placing them into new contexts and intensifying scrutiny years after the events themselves.
For artists, public figures and LGBTQ+ people whose identities and histories are often debated online, these resurfaced moments can reopen old wounds while also creating opportunities for renewed dialogue about boundaries, consent and growth.

Broader conversations on consent and youth behavior

The story’s traction has invited discussion about alcohol, consent and responsibility among teenagers, including how power dynamics and social pressure play into decisions at parties and in dating relationships. Reporting notes that Larsson underscores her level of intoxication at the time, describing herself as “really drunk,” but does not frame this as an excuse so much as a factor that contributed to a decision she now regards as wrong.

Comment sections and social posts referenced in coverage indicate that some viewers see her story as a cautionary tale about how quickly trust can be damaged and how long those consequences can last, especially for young people navigating first relationships and friendships. Others emphasize the importance of compassionate responses to teenage mistakes, particularly for youth who may already be marginalized — including LGBTQ+ teenagers whose social networks can be a crucial source of affirmation and safety.

The response also underscores how digital culture can shape narratives around harm and healing: once a clip circulates beyond its original audience, it can take on symbolic weight far beyond the specific people involved. In Larsson’s case, a moment from her teenage years has become a flashpoint not only about fidelity and friendship, but also about the expectations placed on women and gender‑diverse artists to be both relatable and morally exemplary as they grow up in public view.

As the conversation continues, the resurfaced clip functions as a reminder of the complex intersection between personal history and public persona, and how stories of regret — whether about relationships, brand deals, or controversial jokes — can continue to shape an artist’s narrative long after the original events.

“I was literally told because I direct films that, ‘You can’t direct men. They won’t follow you,’” Banks said, recounting the statement as an example of industry bias directed at women in positions of creative authority. She framed the remark as part of a pattern of being diminished professionally, aligning it with the broader theme of The Miniature Wife, which uses a literal shrinking device in its storyline to explore what it feels like to be made small by a partner or by professional circumstances.

When host Kelly Clarkson asked whether the sexist warning had motivated her to prove it wrong, Banks responded succinctly, “Yeah, of course!”, indicating that the comment became fuel rather than a deterrent. She connected that determination to a career‑long effort to create stories where women characters have agency, even as she continues working in a system she described as offering a relatively “small club” of opportunities to women directors.

Proving the stereotype wrong on set

In the same conversation, Banks contrasted the slight she had received with her actual experience directing acclaimed actor Ray Liotta in the 2023 film Cocaine Bear. “And then I directed Ray Liotta, who played Henry Hill in Goodfellas, and I think I nailed it. Check. It’s all good,” she said, pointing to her work with a veteran male performer as evidence that male actors can and do work under women’s direction.

Liotta had a key role in Cocaine Bear, which was released in 2023 and went on to gross about $90 million worldwide, adding to Banks’ credentials as a director of commercially successful, male‑inclusive ensemble casts. That film followed earlier directing work on Pitch Perfect 2, which earned approximately $287 million globally, and the 2019 reboot of Charlie’s Angels, placing her among the relatively few women who have been hired to direct studio‑backed action and comedy projects centered on both women and men.

By highlighting Liotta’s iconic Goodfellas role while discussing her own leadership on set, Banks implicitly challenged the idea that only men can direct actors in “masculine” or crime‑adjacent material. Her comments add to ongoing public conversations about how assumptions regarding gender can limit who studios trust with particular genres, even when women filmmakers have demonstrated proven skill in those areas.

Frustration over the ‘Charlie’s Angels’ narrative

During the interview, Banks also revisited her experience with the 2019 film Charlie’s Angels, explaining that she was frustrated by media coverage that framed the movie as a kind of feminist manifesto rather than simply a large‑scale action film she loved making. “So much of the story that the media wanted to tell about Charlie’s Angels was that it was some feminist manifesto,” she recalled, saying that she approached the project out of affection for the franchise rather than to deliver an explicitly gendered declaration.

“I just loved the franchise,” Banks said, adding that “there was not this gendered agenda from me” and that the feminist framing was “laid on top of the work” by coverage that, in her view, pigeonholed both her and the potential audience for the film. She suggested that the narrative around Charlie’s Angels became an example of how women’s creative choices are sometimes read through a narrow lens of gender politics, whether or not that was the filmmaker’s starting point.

For women and LGBTQ+ filmmakers who want the freedom to work across genres, such framing can influence how their projects are marketed and received, even when they seek to reach wide audiences with stories that are not limited to a single identity‑based message. Banks’ remarks point to the tension between representation—where having women and queer‑affirming storytellers behind the camera matters—and the risk that their work is treated as niche or didactic, rather than as mainstream entertainment.

Calling for broader representation in storytelling

Beyond recounting the remark about not being able to direct men, Banks used her conversation with Clarkson to underline how limited the pool of women in directing roles remains. “Despite me knowing that I’m in a great club, it’s a really small club, and it needs more representation,” she said, emphasizing that there should be more storytellers from different perspectives and more audiences willing to support that range of work.

Banks described herself as “having a lot of fun making sure that women have a real sense of agency in whatever they’re doing, whatever stories I’m telling,” indicating that she intentionally crafts roles in which women characters drive the narrative. That focus on agency aligns with broader calls for intersectional representation in film and television, which advocate for stories where women, LGBTQ+ people, and other historically marginalized groups are portrayed as complex protagonists rather than as supporting figures.

Her comments arrive amid ongoing industry debates about equity in hiring and creative control, including conversations about how to open pathways for transgender and nonbinary filmmakers and performers who often face layered barriers in addition to sexism. By explicitly calling for “more storytellers from different perspectives,” Banks situated her own experience within a wider push to diversify who gets to tell stories on‑screen and behind the camera.

‘The Miniature Wife’ and the metaphor of feeling small

The interview took place as Banks promoted The Miniature Wife, an upcoming Peacock series in which she stars opposite Matthew Macfadyen as a writer whose scientist husband literally shrinks her to about six inches tall. The show uses that fantastical premise as an absurdist lens to examine power imbalances in intimate relationships and the broader feeling of being diminished by a partner or by professional hierarchies.

“It’s a very funny show, but what I really was drawn to was, we get to sort of talk about a big feeling, which is feeling diminished by a partner,” Banks said, adding that many people can relate to being made to feel small in either their professional or romantic lives. She noted that the series allows her and the creative team to explore those themes in a way that is both comic and pointed, connecting the show’s core metaphor to her own stories of being underestimated, including the claim that men would not follow her direction on a film set.

For audiences attuned to gender and power dynamics, The Miniature Wife presents another opportunity to see these issues taken up through genre storytelling, with Banks emphasizing humor without losing sight of the structural inequalities being critiqued. In the context of her recent remarks, the series can also be read as extending a conversation about how people of all genders, including women and LGBTQ+ communities, navigate industries and relationships where they are sometimes told explicitly or implicitly that leadership roles are not meant for them.

In the clip, Cohen told viewers that he has “likely hosted over 100 reunions, maybe around 150,” a number he later revised upward to about 200 across the many Bravo franchises he fronts. Against that backdrop, his decision to single out the “Summer House” taping as among the most intense underscores the level of conflict and unresolved questions heading into the season 10 sit‑down.

Cohen also described himself as exhausted after filming, saying the reunion “was a lot,” language that points to both emotional and logistical demands as cast members revisited months of interpersonal drama. His framing suggests a reunion designed to minimize ambiguity for viewers, with the promise that no major storyline or conflict was left unaddressed.

Relationship twists fuel anticipation

The intense mood heading into the reunion reflects a season marked by new romantic connections and shifting loyalties among the housemates. Central to the conversation is the newly confirmed relationship between Amanda Batula and West Wilson, which was revealed after weeks of speculation from viewers and fellow cast members.

According to reporting on the lead‑up to the reunion, Batula and Wilson acknowledged they were together even though their respective former partners were still part of the ensemble sharing the house this season. That disclosure reportedly intensified scrutiny around their dynamic, adding emotional weight to an already complicated web of friendships and past relationships.

Batula’s connection to West Wilson’s ex, Ciara Miller, further layered the situation, as Batula and Miller are described as having been good friends prior to the new relationship. Wilson also had close ties to Batula’s husband, Kyle Cooke, from whom she separated in January, intensifying audience interest in how these overlapping bonds would be addressed during the reunion conversation.

Coverage notes that Wilson had previously told others that “everyone single” when he began seeing Batula, a claim that has become part of the broader debate about timing and transparency in the group. The decision to bring Batula, Wilson, Cooke and Miller together on the same reunion stage set the stage for emotionally charged exchanges as they revisited both the summer and its aftermath.

Seating chart and reunion format

Ahead of the taping, Bravo released a preview of the reunion seating chart, a now‑familiar ritual for fans who parse couch positions for clues about which storylines will take center stage. The arrangement reportedly placed Batula and Wilson closest to Cohen at the head of the group, signaling that their relationship and related fall‑out would be a primary focus of the day’s questioning.

The proximity of the season’s most discussed figures to the moderator is consistent with Bravo’s broader reunion staging practice, where the most contentious or central cast members sit nearest the host. That positioning, combined with Cohen’s comments about intensity, reinforced fan expectations that the reunion would directly confront the interpersonal rifts and romantic controversies that have defined season 10.

Cohen also used his SiriusXM program “Andy Cohen Live” to push back on rumors that the reunion might be filmed in a split or staggered format, with different subsets of the cast appearing separately. In a social media clip, he clarified that speculation about separating the cast was “not accurate,” indicating that the entire ensemble would share the stage at the same time, preserving the franchise’s typical all‑cast confrontation model.

By affirming that the format would remain consistent with past reunions, Cohen signaled continuity in the show’s approach even as the content promised to be unusually fraught. That reassurance may have helped manage fan expectations while still building anticipation for what he characterized as a particularly demanding day of filming.

Timing, broadcast details and fan expectations

Despite the reunion already being filmed, season 10 of “Summer House” is still unfolding on television, with new episodes continuing to air weekly on Bravo. The season finale is scheduled for May 19, placing the reunion’s eventual airdate after viewers have seen all major in‑season developments play out.

The series currently airs Tuesdays at 8 p.m. on Bravo, with episodes available for streaming the following day on Peacock, a distribution pattern that gives fans multiple ways to stay current as they wait for the reunion special. That schedule allows conversation and speculation to build online and across social media as clips, recaps and cast commentary circulate between episodes.

The late‑season revelation of Batula and Wilson’s relationship, combined with the already announced taping of a high‑intensity reunion, has contributed to heightened engagement around the show’s tenth season. Fans are now looking to the reunion as a space where questions about timing, honesty and loyalty between housemates can be examined comprehensively and on the record, in keeping with Cohen’s claim that no topic was off‑limits.

Cohen’s track record and reality TV stakes

As the longtime moderator of Bravo reunions, Cohen has overseen some of the network’s most high‑profile and emotionally charged episodes, particularly within the “Real Housewives” universe. His suggestion that the “Summer House” season 10 gathering ranks among the most intense of his career positions the special as a potential standout in Bravo’s broader reunion canon.

Reunions on unscripted series such as “Summer House” often function as unofficial accountability forums, where cast members revisit conflicts, clarify timelines and address how their on‑screen behavior has been perceived by audiences. Cohen’s insistence that “every question was asked” signals an effort to use that format to provide viewers with as much clarity as possible while allowing cast members to explain their choices in their own words.

The dynamics among the “Summer House” cast also illustrate how reality series can intersect with real‑life relationships that extend beyond filming, including friendships, marriages and co‑worker ties. The season 10 reunion appears poised to explore how these overlapping connections evolved over time, and how cast members wish to define those relationships moving forward now that the cameras have stopped rolling for the season.

While full details of the specific exchanges, resolutions or lingering disagreements at the reunion will not be clear until the special airs, Cohen’s on‑record description has already shaped public expectations. For now, Bravo viewers are left with a handful of key facts: the reunion has been filmed, the cast appeared together on one stage, relationships and ruptures were addressed directly, and the host considers the episode among the most demanding he has ever led.

He clarified in the interview that he has “never had sex with a girl,” while also sharing that he has experienced “feelings” for women that he characterised as mostly emotional rather than sexual. By distinguishing between emotional connections and sexual attraction, Lil Nas X added nuance to public conversations about how gay men and other LGBTQ+ people may experience complex patterns of intimacy and attachment over time.

“It really bothered me”: early backlash and fear

Reflecting on his decision to come out publicly in 2019, Lil Nas X said that the magnitude of public reaction initially affected him far more than he expected, recalling that “at first it really bothered me.” He described being surprised by how intensely some people fixated on his sexuality, noting that he was taken aback by how much others seemed to care about this part of his identity.

The rapper said that widespread scrutiny left him feeling “paranoid” and “afraid to move too much or be seen too much,” language that points to the psychological toll that high‑visibility queer and gay artists can face in hostile or judgmental environments. He added that, during that period, “I felt like the entire world was against me,” underscoring how online and media backlash can influence a person’s sense of safety and belonging, particularly for LGBTQ+ people navigating both fame and prejudice.

Isolation, support networks and stepping back

In the conversation, TS Madison asked Lil Nas X about the kind of support he had around him, including whether there were LGBTQ+ people in his life he could rely on. He responded that, over an extended period he estimated as “seven, eight, nine” months, he had “kind of got away from everybody,” including distancing himself from his team and close contacts.

Lil Nas X explained that he had “got rid of everybody” around him for a time and is only now starting to bring people “back on board,” suggesting a deliberate retreat from industry and social circles while he regrouped personally. His comments highlight the ways that LGBTQ+ celebrities may sometimes step back from their usual support networks and professional infrastructure to cope with pressure, even as advocates often stress the importance of community in safeguarding mental health.

A renewed “self‑love journey”

Discussing how he has begun to rebuild his confidence, Lil Nas X said he needed to embark on “a self‑love journey again,” emphasising that this round of introspection felt “more than ever this time.” He said this process meant learning to “really accept every single part of me, whether I perceive it as good or bad, and stop trying to force change in myself all the time,” framing self‑acceptance as an ongoing, non‑linear practice.

These reflections arrive after several years in which Lil Nas X has used his music, visuals and public persona to challenge homophobia and rigid gender expectations, particularly through projects like the *Montero * era that centred queer imagery and storytelling. His emphasis on internal work and self‑compassion may resonate with many LGBTQ+ people who face both external hostility and internalised stigma as they navigate identity, visibility and mental health.

Career milestones and legal context

Lil Nas X first achieved global prominence with “Old Town Road” in 2019 and came out publicly as gay during Pride Month that year, a move that drew significant attention because he was at the top of the charts at the time. He has since become known for elaborate, high‑concept performances and videos, and has consistently spoken about homophobia and pressures placed on LGBTQ+ artists in interviews and appearances.

The newly highlighted podcast segment was recorded in February 2025, months before Lil Nas X was arrested in Los Angeles in August of that year and charged with four felonies, according to court information summarised in recent coverage. Earlier in April 2026, a California judge described the incident as “aberrant from his normal conduct,” linked the case to a bipolar diagnosis, and ruled that the charges will be dismissed if he follows a treatment plan and does not break the law for two years.

Broader significance for LGBTQ+ visibility

Lil Nas X’s decision to publicly discuss the specificity of his attractions—identifying as gay, while acknowledging a “99%” attraction to men and emotional feelings for some women—adds complexity to how sexuality is portrayed in mainstream pop culture. His remarks can be read alongside wider community conversations about fluidity, labels and the space for gay men, bisexual people and others under the LGBTQ+ umbrella to describe their experiences without being forced into narrow categories.

By also candidly sharing how backlash “really bothered” him and contributed to feelings of paranoia and isolation, Lil Nas X is drawing attention to the emotional and mental health implications of being a visibly queer or gay public figure under constant scrutiny. His framing of recovery as a renewed “self‑love journey” underscores ongoing calls from LGBTQ+ advocates and mental health professionals for environments in which queer and transgender people can define and express themselves without disproportionate judgement or danger.