In Oscar-shortlisted documentary short Cashing Out, a little-known industry that saw dying LGBTQ+ people sell their life insurance policies is remembered

During the summer of 2020, at the onset of the Covid pandemic, the documentary director Matt Nadel was back home in Boca Raton, Florida. He remembers one particular evening walk that he took with his father, Phil, as they weathered out those early months.

As they strode through the neighborhood, Nadel, now 26, said that the prospect of a vaccine was exciting, but the idea of pharmaceutical executives profiting off a devastating virus left him feeling uneasy. Phil grew concerned by the complex ethical predicament that his son laid out, and Nadel could quickly tell that his father was acting strangely.

They published a raunchy book inspired by the Guardian’s Owen Jones; broadcast interviews with obscure punk legends; and make calendars to navigate the world of underground art. Now they’re going global

Stuart McKenzie turns towards a fan on a makeshift stage so his long brunette hair blows in the wind. The artist is dressed in a power suit with thick rimmed glasses, flamboyantly smoking a cigarette as he performs the confessional poetry he’s been writing since the 80s. “Stuart is this fantastic London staple who is just coming out of the woodwork now,” says Emily Pope, the director of Montez Press, who hosted the fundraiser where McKenzie performed to support their queer, feminist press and radio.

McKenzie is a typical Montez Press collaborator: an experimental artist who doesn’t fit neatly into either art, literary or music spaces (although he did recently support the indie band Bar Italia). He’s later in his career than some of the emerging artists they collaborate with but he has Montez Press’s “desire to push boundaries and ask questions,” as Anna Clark, one of the organisation’s founding members, puts it.

In a country plagued by underdog status and a sport fraught with a history of racism, misogyny and homophobia, this adaptation has reimagined what’s possible

I grew up in a hockey town where there was no escaping Canada’s beloved sport. Our suburban streets doubled as rinks; the choppy slap of tennis balls reverberating against hockey sticks a constant sound. As pre-teens, my friends and I would put on lip gloss and tight jeans to hang out at the Friday night junior hockey games. I still find comfort in the sound of skate blades slicing across ice and that sweaty, chemical odour of public arenas.

My experiences are not unique in a country with a 95-year-old broadcast institution called Hockey Night in Canada. Rachel Reid, the Nova Scotian author of the queer hockey romance Heated Rivalry, grew up a hockey fanatic, more interested in playing the game than ogling boys. Jacob Tierney, who wrote and directed the TV adaptation of Reid’s 2019 bestseller, was raised in Montreal, where the Canadiens (or the Habs, as the team is affectionately known) are considered sacred.

Sue Carter is a Toronto-based freelance writer and arts worker

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The Glory was a haven for outlandish self-expression and the early stomping ground for many of the UK’s most infamous drag queens. It made me ready for life

In a packed pub, revellers chat, sip lager and look at their phones. Suddenly a side door crashes open, and in walks drag sensation John Sizzle, dressed as a hair-raisingly accurate Diana, Princess of Wales. She saunters demurely to a halo, fashioned from tinsel and coat hangers and stuck to the wall, stands under it, and starts lip-syncing to Beyoncé’s Halo. The crowd erupts.

The TV hit has cracked open a rich seam of misogyny: romance is written off as a weird thing that women like, and the audience is dismissed as ‘wine moms’

I’ve never heard anything more sexist in my life than the (mounting) reasons why women supposedly love the hit TV drama Heated Rivalry. Quick recap: if you’re a woman, or even if you’re not and don’t yet love it: Shane Hollander (Hudson Williams) and Ilya Rozanov (Connor Storrie) are two professional ice hockey players on rival teams. It matters that they’re hockey players, beyond the athletic perfection of their “insanely oiled, slick bodies” (as my friend, Eve, who’s 21, put it). And it matters that Rozanov is Russian, because the obstacles are real: he cannot be gay – think about the sponsorship, think about the fans, think about the oppressive patriarchal regime. Think about it for two seconds and this can not happen; and it achingly doesn’t, and almost does, and does, then doesn’t happen, over years.

Heated Rivalry dropped in Canada and the US at the end of November, and the fandom around it is so intense that Williams and Storrie have a compound nickname (HudCon). The actors are all over the late-night US TV shows; the clip of them presenting at the Golden Globes has been viewed more than a million times, and their most throwaway remark on social media blows up.

New LGBTQ+ festival included McKellen in a fiery monologue and Norton in conversation, as well as a queer ceilidh and ‘kilted yoga’

Sir Ian McKellen is on stage blowing up a red balloon. For a man of 86, he has impressive lung capacity. He lets it go and watches it take a satisfyingly theatrical trajectory, rising to a height, then plummeting. “Free the spirit,” he says, in character as Ed, an elderly gay man searching for release.

There was a lot of spirit-freeing over the weekend at Pitlochry Festival theatre. In a bold pre-season move by new artistic director Alan Cumming, the UK’s most idyllic venue launched its first LGBTQ+ festival in an atmosphere of exuberance. Programmed by Lewis Hetherington, Out in the Hills was a three-day compendium of talks, scratch performances and workshops that turned a sedate theatre into a buzzy social hive.

As high court considers trans kids’ participation in school sports, tensions run high between opposing protest groups

As the US supreme court heard arguments on Tuesday for a case that could determine whether transgender children can participate in school sports – and potentially impact LGBTQ+ civil rights protections more broadly – competing groups of activists rallied in Washington DC.

On one side was a multiracial mix of hundreds of people rallying for trans rights and in support of Becky Pepper-Jackson, a track and field athlete from West Virginia and the plaintiff in the West Virginia v BPJ case before the supreme court.

Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie have gone from waiting tables to ‘One Direction-level’ fame in a matter of months, upstaging A-listers at the Golden Globes last week. What’s next?

Tough luck if you prefer your romcoms PG-rated, or ice hockey leaves you cold: there is no escaping Heated Rivalry. The steamy coming-of-age series has been a sensation in North America, making instant stars of its leads as producers rush to make more of it. It’s hard to remember the last TV show to spark such a furore, let alone one from Canada’s “Crave network”. So who are the young men at the centre of the frenzy – and how are they coping with all that thirst?

1. From waiting tables …

Original script from 1954 referring to ‘troubles of this kind’ to be brought to life on stage for LGBT+ History Month

“All the homosexuals I’ve known have been extremely eager, like alcoholics, to spread the disease from which they suffer,” the barrister Lord Hailsham told the BBC in 1954.

Other contributors to the BBC’s first ever programme on male homosexuality largely agreed. A Church of England moralist warned any “invert” who may have been listening in of “transitory attachments, disillusionment and loneliness in his old age”.

The series challenges the hyper-masculine culture that often dominates men’s sport – and proves the power and potential of LGBTQI+ stories

Heated Rivalry, the viral queer ice hockey romance that hit our screens in November, might be doing more than just capturing hearts and winning over hockey fans. With increased attendance at NHL games in North America and interest in the sport in Australia spiking, the power of inclusive and diverse storytelling in a sport setting is showing the industry a new playbook.

Based on a book series by the Nova Scotian romance author Rachel Reid, the rivals-to-lovers tale of two fictional ice hockey players – Canada’s Shane Hollander and Russia’s Ilya Rozanov – explores queer love and acceptance in men’s professional sport.