Why Asian representation in ‘Heated Rivalry’ could be better

And man, do people have thoughts—especially with the sixth and final episode of the first season set to drop on Friday. The show’s reach has gone beyond the queer community celebrating queer joy and straight women, like myself, who love romance books in all forms—even “cute smut about hockey players,” as Reid describes it. Heated Rivalry has become a textbook case of “representation matters.” From discussions about out queer male athletes versus out queer female athletes and being queer in hypermasculine spaces, to representation of folks on the autism spectrum and the importance of straight female allyship, the show has been praised by folks from many backgrounds and walks of life who feel seen—maybe for the first time. There’s also been some crossover into the hockey world, with hockey podcasts (typically with straight male hosts) discussing and reviewing the series, and even interviewing show creator Jacob Tierney.

But one area in which I haven’t seen much content is about how great the show’s Asian representation is.

And that’s because, well, it isn’t.

Williams’ character Shane is half Japanese, half white, while Williams is half Korean, half white. And they’re both Canadian. In the books, both Heated Rivalry and The Long Game (the second and sixth books in the series, which focus on Shane and Ilya’s relationship), only mention Shane’s Japanese background when his character is being introduced and physically described, and briefly when he has a conversation with the NHL commissioner (that’s all I’ll say, because spoilers).

In the show, we get a little more. In the first episode, when Shane is drafted as a rookie, a higher-up from the team, the Montreal Metros, tells Shane and his parents that they’re thrilled that he is “Asian, or Asian Canadian.” Apparently, the team has historically broken barriers and they’re doing it again—so nothing to worry about there. The scene is as awkward and cringeworthy as you would expect, and as it is meant to be. But later in the episode, Shane’s mom Yuna (Christina Chang), while talking about sponsorships, reminds her son, “A whole lot of kids are gonna be looking up to (him), kids that don’t see themselves here a lot.” These two instances, in addition to a scene in episode four in which Shane talks to actress Rose Landry (Sophie Nélisse) about being one of just two Asian boys playing hockey as a youth, are the only times in the series that his race is mentioned (they don’t specify in the show that he is Japanese Canadian).

From left, Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander, Christina Chang as Yuna Hollander, and Dylan Walsh as David Hollander.

Sabrina Lantos/HBO Max

I can appreciate the show not belaboring the fact that Shane is Asian Canadian. There are those who prefer it that way, saying we don’t need it stuffed down our throats. But when you take out those three conversations, there is nothing to indicate that Shane is Wasian other than looking at him and, by extension, his parents.

On the one hand, this is great because Asian Americans—or in this case, Asian Canadians—are more than our race. Shane is a multidimensional, multifaceted character. He’s gay, a professional athlete, and even though it’s not mentioned in the books or show, is also on the autism spectrum (as confirmed by Reid). Being Wasian is just one part of his identity. On the other hand, why even mention his race and the barriers he’s breaking when nothing comes of it?

In contrast, both the books and the show delve into Ilya’s Russian heritage quite often. Obviously as an immigrant, he’s constantly dealing with a language barrier and struggles to fully express himself in English. But as the two athletes become closer and their relationship progresses beyond hockey and hookups, Ilya shares his concerns about going public. He wouldn’t be able to return home to Russia, a country where, homosexuality may be legal, but it’s still widely disapproved of: Pro-LGBTQ+ advocacy groups are considered “extremist” and banned; it’s illegal for individuals to promote homosexuality; and same-sex couple households don’t receive the same legal protections as heterosexual households. Needless to say, if Ilya were outed, as a public figure, it wouldn’t be safe for him to go home. And beyond the obvious, there are other small details about Ilya, such as how he dresses, that are specifically Slavic.

Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander and Connor Storrie as Ilya Rozanov.

Sabrina Lantos/HBO Max

Meanwhile Shane is so culturally generic, he could be from any background (it’s an ongoing joke that Ilya calls him boring). Again, this typically wouldn’t be that big of an issue, but when you compare how much attention to detail is paid to Ilya in contrast, even to the hockey teams’ uniforms, Shane being Wasian just feels like an afterthought.

It also feels unrealistic that him being one of the only Asian players in Major League Hockey (the show’s version of the NHL) wouldn’t be difficult for him beyond the idea of representation for young aspiring Asian fans and athletes. In a sport that has been so historically white and, let’s face it, filled with toxic masculinity, and in a book series that tackles issues surrounding topics such as homophobia, mental health, and sexual assault, you can’t tell me that they’ve magically solved racism.

Now, I’m not saying I want to see Shane on the receiving end of a racist hate crime—we don’t need that kind of trauma porn. But even a small scene with Shane meeting a young Asian fan thanking him or sharing their excitement for when he joined the league would make for a great callback to that first episode.