Icons are not an ideal means to talk about politics. To make someone an icon is to transform a person into a static timeless idea. All that once was political is violently removed. All that is human is removed too. Graduation ceremonies here in Britain hear quotations from Gandhi and Mandela without reference to the history of the oppression they faced. Without reference to their politics. Why is it that everyone wears a T-shirt with Che Guevara on but I’ve never seen one with a picture of Fidel Castro? Perhaps the fact that the struggle is ongoing, that the politics are all too alive, is the issue here. So often icons represent changes in society so radical that the only means by which struggles can be celebrated is if the politics is forgotten and the focus is shifted to a person. It is easier for us to accept someone as good than it is for us to accept someone as important.

k.d. lang's portrait at the exhibition

It was with this in mind that yesterday I went to visit the new Gay Icons exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery with a level of scepticism. The exhibition is made up of a series of photographs selected by ten gay celebrities. Each celebrity was asked to select six people, who may or may not be gay, whom they personally regard as inspirational or an icon. These people were then presented in photographic portraits from a variety of sources, alongside writing by the celebrity who selected them. What became clear, though, was that ‘icon’ was not always the right word. This is still a living struggle, attested to by the presence of photographs of current gay rights leaders. Possibly more interesting, though, is the fact that it was clear how each of the celebrities related to being gay through each of their relationships with gay subjects as icons.

An interesting aspect of the exhibition is its exposure of the problems of homosexuality in public and private life. As the photos go back 150 years, many of the gay icons were closeted, or only discussed their homosexuality obliquely or within their private lives. For example, Sarah Waters’ choice of Denton Welch, who wrote of his homosexuality only in his journals, or Jackie Kay’s selection of Billy Tipton, who passed as a man from the age of 19 until her death. In a strange twist, it is now those who seem to have the least comfortable relationship with their sexuality who chose the most outwardly gay figures. Lord Alli’s selection seems crass to say the least, with his choices included the Village People, Lily Savage, and bisexual porn-star Jeff Stryker. These were gay icons in one particular way: that their gayness was iconic. Gayness, here, is reified, and Lord Alli seems to show his inability to engage with the problematic and personal nature of all sexuality, instead reverting to blasé gay stereotypes.

Probably the most interesting selections and writings are by Sandi Toksvig, Ben Summerskill, Alan Hollinghurst, Sarah Waters and Chris Smith, whose contributions are thoughtful, self-reflective, and informative. All of them address with real concern the difficulties of gay identity and its history, and are sure-footed in how the feel problems should be addressed. They shy away neither from homophobia nor from the reality that homophobia still exists as a major problem in our society.

Apart from all of this waffling about the politics of this exhibition I have failed to mention that many of the pictures are indeed excellent. Whilst those of current popular figures are highly posed, and often less interesting for that reason, many of the photos are of subjects who are not normally photographed, or who have been photographed in action. The photos of Peter Tatchell as a “Queer Terrorist” and Harvey Milk speaking to a crowd were particularly exciting. Some of the photos are very old, further highlighting quite how recent being gay has become acceptable

As the subjects of the photographs did not have to be gay, many of the celebrities chose “icons” from a range of civil rights movement, but there was a particular emphasis on black civil rights. The holocaust was not mentioned once, and I thought to myself that one would never see an exhibition on Jewish, Gypsy, or disabled identity without its presence. This is not so much a lack, but it is surely intriguing that it goes passed over. The word “feminist” was only mentioned twice (and there is a long and often stormy history between male queer campaigners and feminists), and it was only in the hands of Sarah Waters that there was any broader political outlook made explicit. But being politically explicit, and making clear statements is really not what the exhibition is about. If it were then we would again be engaging in a discourse of icons, we would be more interested in the name, and less interested in the photographs.

This collection is an extraordinary exploration of a wide range of interpretations of gay culture from within the community. It is where the subjects of the photos break away from being icons, where they resist reification, that the exhibition is most interesting, and so the title is possibly a misnomer. It is only with an understanding of the depth and complexity of thoughts about homosexuality that reification in any of its forms can be stamped out.

The Gay Icons exhibition runs from 2 July to 18 October at the National Portrait Gallery as part of the Iconic season. Tickets £4-5