#stop another disaster from repeating and while he has the present turtle family

[hellishgayliath]

It is a shame children such as yourselves had to endure such hardships

You all did not deserve to have the weight of the world fall on your shoulders

[trekwiz]

Why Love, Simon is so Meaningful

I don't talk about this much anymore, but seeing Love, Simon has bubbled it all up. Growing up in this culture was really difficult, in a way that non-gays really don't have a frame to understand; it stole a lot of my life from me. Love, Simon left out some of the toughest parts--the ever-present evil people like Billy Graham, Pat Robertson, and Matthew Shepard's killers making every day that much harder--but there's a wider culture that just made everything extremely difficult. Love, Simon does an exceptional job of showing those things, in a way that's easy for a non-gay audience to understand. There are parts of life that I'll never be able to experience because the wider culture took it away from me. It was somewhere around 2nd grade that I realized the world was hostile towards normal people for no good reason--it wasn't a particular news story, or something that happened to me. It was just something present in everything at all times. Some of it is tangible--hearing "that's so gay," or "fag" as an insult, or hearing classmates brag about beating up the one out gay kid--while other stuff is more abstract, like the complete absence of people like me on the screen. Or worse, (later) the token representations of people like me that were either poorly written, the butt of jokes, or just irrelevant props. There are more gay characters today, but often it's still superficial--or in the case of companies like Bioware, disrespectful and offensive "representation" as a money making strategy. Love, Simon was written from a place of respect, and showed the same due care as any film, and that means everything to me. At that time, I closed myself off. I became a "turtle"--I hid both from my toxic family and the anti-gay world behind the locked door of my bedroom. After school I had Star Trek, Legos, and videogames, alone. I stepped away from my friendships in 2nd grade--I didn't stop talking with classmates, I just didn't let them get close; I didn't hang out after school; I kept those relationships superficial. I didn't get the option to be a mall rat. I didn't go see movies with other kids. I didn't get to hang out at the arcade. I didn't have friends to go on bike rides with. I didn't have an SNES player 2 outside of my sister. I was afraid that if I had friends, they'd catch me checking out another guy and either attack me, or out me. I tried to convince myself that I was "alone but not lonely," but I wasn't. The only thing that kept me going was the belief that if I worked hard, I could get away from the toxic family and the toxic culture, making my own life. Struggling to find work in my 20's really killed that one hope that kept me alive. Can you imagine how isolating that is for an 8 year old to know the world hates them, with no where to turn to for safety? To know that there's no one in the world that they can ever trust? I was terrified: there was no way to know who was an enemy. People who otherwise pass as nice can still be homophobic; they pretend to be good people, but even that sweet teacher could be a fatal liability. Complain about the slurs and risk the real, well-meaning teacher telling my parents; at around 14 I became aware of groups like NARTH and Exodus International and was terrified that I could be forced into one of those torture camps. When I finally wanted to take baby steps out of my bubble, I didn't really have the social skills to do it. I remember a classmate in 8th grade who tried to be my friend, but I no longer knew how how to go from daily chatting, to actually hanging out away from school. I never got to have a best friend, and I was terrified of going to school dances, so I didn't--not that there'd have been a reason to, there was no way to find a dance partner anyway. One of the most obvious differences between Simon in Love, Simon and me is that I never did go to any high school parties--I was never invited, and I probably would have been afraid to go if I had been.  Smart camp was certainly a lot better--it was an oasis in many ways. I had friends--who are still important to me today--and I was able to go to the dances; mostly, I played cards with my friends because it wasn't just a dance. But even that didn't offer me a reprieve from the toxic culture around me. Friends kept pushing me to dance with girls, and it was too dangerous to say why I didn't want to. I completely embarrassed myself when they setup a dance for me, after being pressured to name a crush. In my last year at camp, a girl asked me to dance. I had said no--after repeating that about a dozen times, I left to take cover in the movie room. She followed and kept asking; when everyone stared at me from the disruption, I left, again. I had nowhere else to go, since we weren't allowed to go back to the dorms until later, so I actually hid in the bathroom. I don't think I can convey how frustrating that is--I literally hid in the bathroom because it was too dangerous to say, "please stop, I'm gay." (Needless to say, the bathroom scene after the dance in Love, Simon really hit home.) That story doesn't even end there. She must have asked an instructor for help because he came in a few minutes later to badger me, too. I was backed in a corner with no place to escape, and the authority figure, the one who's job was to protect me, insisted that I should dance with her. I was practically dragged out onto the dance floor, powerless, disgusted, and terrified. Knowing my safety was on the line, I became her default dance partner for a couple weeks. Until she asked for a kiss. I was "lucky" that I only had to say no once before she moved on. Meanwhile, there was a guy in my group who, thanks to the benefit of hindsight, I know was interested--I missed it at the time, and lost the only opportunity I had for any kind of dating life in my teen years. Love, Simon really nailed the little things that convey that being out isn't safe. It's still hard today, but I don't want to be in that position again. I don't want to be the kid hiding in the bathroom at the dance--but sometimes, he's still present. When people defend Billy Graham's evil life. When (mostly) Christians complain that we've "gone too far" with "that whole equality thing." When gay couples are still assaulted today. (https://www.nbcnews.com/feature/nbc-out/anti-lgbtq-attacks-leave-four-victims-injured-new-york-city-n676941) After Pulse. When gay people can still be fired without cause. When gay people can be turned down for renting or buying a home so long as the owner doesn't say why. I don't think I'll ever not be anxious when I come out, even in places that I know are relatively safe. Love, Simon gives me hope that there really is a different future ahead. Seeing a character experience these struggles without making it disaster-porn was refreshing. Seeing him able to experience life, when that was denied to me, is incredible. Seeing a mainstream movie with such an authentic, honest representation of someone like me is unimaginably meaningful. This movie showed the universal aspects of the gay experience, without resorting to tropes and trivialization; without getting too caught up in any niche subsets. I needed this movie 20 years ago. This movie truly could have changed my life if it had existed then. And even in this block of text, I still don't think I've conveyed just how important Love, Simon is to me.