Love, Simon — an incomplete yet heartwarming narrative about queer youth coming out
So I watched Love, Simon.
For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s a story about a closeted gay teen in an upper-middle class suburban high school (the rest of the post has some spoilers, but they’re really not bad :P).
Was it a perfect, representative portrayal of gay youth’s experiences across the globe? Nope. Did it touch on all the struggles that the LGBTQ community faces while exploring intersectionality? Nope. Was it potentially alienating for those whose coming out experiences weren’t all that positive? Yes. Did I roll my eyes when Simon kept saying “I’m just like you” when talking about his upper-middle class white suburban life? Yes (no, Simon, you’re definitely not like every kid).
Did I still like the movie? Yes.
Did I ugly cry? Definitely yes.
Whenever movies come out telling underrepresented stories, there’s a lot of pressure for it to be “perfect” and representative of all experiences. As if we could only afford one shot. This is tokenizing. The answer is for us to make more movies. Tell more stories. Don’t let one movie be the only story. Let this be an opportunity to start the dialogue and push for more nuanced narratives that center intersectional stories of marginalized people.
Anyway, Love, Simon wasn’t a story that I lived or saw play out growing up. Throughout the movie, I kept thinking, “if only every LGBTQ person’s experience was like his…” because in many ways, Simon’s coming out journey was… pretty nice. Well, minus the being outed part.
Watching the movie, I wished every young person could count on having a roof over their head even after coming out. In high school, I had a friend who took a leap of faith and came out, only to get kicked out of their home and become homeless.
I wished every young person could experience their bullies get held accountable. In high school, I got spat on while participating in Day of Silence and my friends shoved in the hall way by strangers. Those jerks faced no consequences. I got called into the principal’s office for organizing a peaceful demonstration in the quad, because some parents didn’t approve of the message — I was the one reprimanded.
I wished every young person could feel supported and embraced by their family and friends, who are ready to rally for their safety, happiness, and love. The vast majority of my friends are much closer to their chosen families rather than their biological families. My father and I still don’t discuss my sexuality, even though I came out to him as bisexual over a decade ago. He asks me when I’m going to find a husband and have babies. Every time I visit him.
LGBTQ youth, especially youth of color, experience bullying, homelessness, and mental health issues including suicidal thoughts and attempts at a disproportionately high rate compared to their heterosexual and cisgender peers. For LGBTQ youth of color, racism adds another layer of intersectional struggle on top of transphobia and homophobia. Trans women of color continue to get murdered with barely any media coverage or public outcry— 26 trans people (25 of them people of color) were killed in 2017 alone, and that’s just counting the reports that identified the victims’ gender identity correctly.
We love rockin’ rainbow tutus during Pride, but is it really getting better?
While the movie did not include many important narratives I would have liked to see, I still appreciated the tender and authentic ways it portrayed some of the common struggles of being in the closet (when I had my first crush on a girl, I was so awkward and shy. God I did not look good in cargo shorts. Yikes). In many ways, Love, Simon also modeled how adults and young people can be allies to the LGBTQ community. Not the rainbow-Facebook-filter performative type “allyship,” but real, brave acts of solidarity.
Perhaps the reason for my ugly crying during the movie wasn’t just because of the beautiful moments of embrace Simon received from his friends and family, but also because I know the reality can be starkly different for so many young queer and trans people in our society today.
I watched the movie feeling bittersweet, feeling hopeful that this mainstream film will inspire people to be better allies to the LGBTQ community, while simultaneously remembering the names and faces of so many young queer and trans people I know, those with wounds much too deep to be healed by this heartwarming film.
If you haven’t already, go watch the movie. Be inspired. Be touched. Be moved to do more. Then learn more about different issues facing the LGBTQ community today.
And don’t forget about our young people who are fighting for a reality that resembles the one portrayed in the movie (well, likely an improved version at that). Please pay attention and stand with them.
If Love, Simon is one vision of what acceptance could look like, our young people hitting the streets, mobilizing, and empowering each other is that vision being reimagined and in the making.
Lastly, I want all of our young queer and trans youth to know that even if the movie doesn’t tell your story or depict your reality, your stories matter, your reality is seen, and there are adults rooting for you, standing with you, and paving the way alongside you to make space for all of your and our love stories.
Love, Michelle
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About Michelle Kim
Michelle is an entrepreneur, activist, speaker, and a coach passionate about empowering individuals and organizations to create positive change. She is the Co-founder and CEO of Awaken and Owner of Michelle Kim Consulting.
