There were plenty of knock-down, drag-out fights on this season of Selling Sunset. But for me, the most difficult drama to stomach was the constant whispering about Chrishell Stause having “changed” now that she’s with G Flip.
I have always been an avid viewer of the hit Netflix reality TV series, even before Chrishell Stause’s bombshell proclamation of love for the nonbinary Australian musician (and heartthrob) on the season five reunion episode. Until that moment, the Selling Sunset universe struck as me an overwhelmingly heterosexual one, full of long-legged straight women balancing precariously across artificial grass and (sometimes even cliffside pools) in the Hollywood Hills. What can I say? I loved the escapist fantasy it presented. Somehow, the show’s focus on wildly out-of-reach properties provided a much-needed, almost parodic distraction from our capitalist hell.
But from the moment Stause introduced her beloved to her Oppenheim Group colleagues, I became emotionally invested in the show on a whole new level. It felt like my team was playing in the Super Bowl, or some other sporting event of equal magnitude. When Chrishell and G Flip first appeared on season six — in scenes showing the couple supporting each other and hanging out — I was hooked. The beauty of Selling Sunset lies in its glam and gilded glitz, so it was refreshing at first to see a queer couple getting the chance to participate in my favorite dystopian late-capitalist comfort watch. And although Chrishell and G Flip had to deal with plenty of homophobic and queerphobic comments on social media, it seemed like their relationship was mostly being treated with respect on the show.
Unfortunately, the good times couldn’t last. The treatment of Chrishell’s relationship in season seven is not at all escapist or whimsically trashy. Instead, it just reminds me of the cruel reality of coming out in a primarily-straight friend group and suffering the consequences.
From the comments about Chrishell having “changed” to implications that she was intimidated by her ex-boyfriend (and boss) Jason Oppenheim’s new girlfriend Marie-Lou Nurk, it’s clear that my newly minted queer hero has once again been placed at the center of the show's catty drama. In a scene teased before season seven even premiered, Nurk managed to both misgender G Flip (which Chrishell masterfully addressed) and also suggest Stause was bullying her for dating Oppenheim. This idea that Chrishell somehow felt threatened by Nurk, presumably because she wanted to get back with Oppenheim, turned into one of the season's strongest throughlines. Every time a castmember lent credence to the idea, I found myself screaming, hollering, and waving my hands at the TV.
Let’s be serious: No one would be implying that Chrishell wants Jason back if G Flip were some random cis guy. But despite being obviously madly in love, talking openly about family planning, and quite literally getting married at the end of the season, none of this was enough to disabuse some people of the notion that she wanted her ex-boyfriend back.
The Nurk/Oppenheim storyline aside, Stause faced a lot of hostility this season for simply setting boundaries between her personal life and her workplace “family” at the O Group. While setting a boundary isn’t inherently queer, Stause’s shift in approach to her mental health between seasons six and seven certainly seems informed by her journey with her sexuality. In fact, she openly credited G Flip for it in an interview with Them, saying, “Oh my gosh, if I hadn’t had G while I was filming these two seasons, I really think I would have just needed to be put in a padded room.”
At the end of season six, G Flip lovingly tells their partner to “chill out in the peace bubble and don’t let anyone pop it,” — and Chrishell really seems to take that to heart in the new season: She and co-star Emma Hernan get their own villa during the company retreat to avoid unnecessary tension with their coworkers. She is cordial but stops engaging with Nurk after their disastrous sit-down. She misses an O group dinner in Cabo San Lucas that she was absolutely dreading. Each choice is presumably made to maintain peace and preserve energy, yet some of her co-workers still view Chrishell’s behavior as inappropriate and selfish. At the dinner she skipped, for example, co-star Nicole Young, Nurk, and even her friend Amanza Smith tore into her for not being a team player.
Not to make mountains out of petty comments at company dinners with too much booze, but the negative response to her new boundaries feels uncannily familiar. It’s the same reaction many newly out queer folks receive once they gain more confidence and start asking their straight friends to treat them with respect, only to be met with accusations of how “different” they are now. Here’s the thing: Coming out does sometimes change you, but it’s almost always for the best because it gives you more security in yourself. Chrishell may be changing, but I love that she is protecting her peace. Besides, staying the same your whole life is boring — not that many straight people seem to understand that.
As a reality TV connoisseur, a queer, and just some guy who really likes chisme and drama, I have found Chrishell and G Flip to be a breath of fresh air in the world of mainstream reality television. While more of us have broken into this universe via smaller shows like The Ultimatum: Queer Love, season eight of Are You The One?, and 12 Dates of Christmas, Stause is one of the few public figures proving you don’t have to be on a queer reality show to be a queer reality TV superstar. That only makes it sting even more to watch her get made out to be the villain — basically for being gay and having boundaries. I want a Selling Sunset where Chrishell is able to have her relationship validated, live in her queerness, and call people out for overstepping her boundaries without being accused of changing beyond recognition.
It’s perhaps even more disturbing to me that all of the homophobia she experiences is of a messy microaggressive nature that makes it hard to even pinpoint. No one says anything overtly hateful. But it’s clear nonetheless from remarks — like Smith telling co-worker Mary Bonnet that Chrishell has “changed” or Nurk accusing her of being mean — that she is being treated differently now. Perhaps it’s unrealistic of me to expect subtle acts of homophobia and transphobia and all of their attendant social dynamics to not seep into my comfort reality TV show. Fame and fortune certainly don’t make the couple immune to these microaggressions, as we all saw when the People’s Choice Awards didn’t allow Chrishell to bring G Flip as a plus-one. But there’s something unsettling about this plastic world suddenly being permeated with the very real and often subtle pressures everyday queer people face while navigating our social relationships.
Regardless of the villain arc the show attempts to push on her, I will continue in the queer tradition of supporting my faves to the ends of the earth. To borrow a phrase from Britney defender Cara Cunningham, “Leave Chrishell alone!” Maybe I’ll even take a page out of her book and try to create my own “peace bubble” before I watch the reunion episode. If this season was any indication of what’s to come, I’m going to need it.
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