Gus Kenworthy didn’t just watch Heated Rivalry. He lived it.
In a new interview with The New Yorker, the Olympic freestyle skier-turned-actor revealed that before coming out as gay in 2015, he had his own clandestine romance—complete with a celebrity cover story. “Miley Cyrus was my own Rose,” Kenworthy said, referencing the character in Heated Rivalry whom one of the leads dates to deflect from his actual relationship with a man.
The parallel isn’t metaphorical. Kenworthy describes “a secret relationship, with these clandestine meetings and hookups” while publicly appearing alongside Cyrus—someone who, as he put it, “is the person you would want to be with if you’re straight, someone successful and beautiful and talented.” The arrangement worked, until it didn’t. “It’s not the same as when you’re with a guy.”
Kenworthy initially dismissed the Prime Video series as eye candy for “thirsty gays.” Then episode three happened. “I actually wrote a message to the show’s creator because I was so moved, and didn’t expect to be,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself reflected onscreen like that, in such a substantial way.”
That reflection matters. Kenworthy came out a decade ago in ESPN: The Magazine, becoming one of the first elite action-sports athletes to do so publicly. Cyrus celebrated the announcement at the time, writing that he had “won FREEDOM.” What she didn’t mention was her role in helping him survive the closet.
He specifically connected with the character of Scott Hunter—the player who desperately wants to come out but “truly felt like he couldn’t be, because of his circumstances.” For Kenworthy, those circumstances meant years of compartmentalization while competing at the highest level. “I had the same yearning—to be in love, to be public, and to not have to hide.”
Kenworthy will compete for Team Great Britain at the 2026 Milan Olympics. Eleven years after coming out, he’s still one of the most visible openly gay men in elite winter sports—a category that remains vanishingly small. Heated Rivalry gave him something he’d never had: proof that his story wasn’t singular. That the closeted athlete with the famous girlfriend and the secret boyfriend wasn’t a quirk of his biography, but a pattern worth dramatizing.
Visibility isn’t just about who’s on screen. It’s about who finally gets to see themselves.
