Dear Alex Johnson,
I want to take a moment to express my gratitude to you, the visionary director behind Love, Simon. Recently, I had the pleasure of taking my two sons—my 13-year-old, Noah, and my openly gay nearly 11-year-old, Ethan—to an advanced screening of the film. Ethan approached me last week, excited after spotting an advertisement for it. “We have to see it,” he insisted. “Finally, there’s a movie about gay kids!”
As a parent, I was already aware of Love, Simon and had been doing my research to determine if it would be suitable for Ethan, given its PG-13 rating. After careful consideration of our discussions surrounding identity, I felt confident bringing him along. The only aspect that gave me pause was realizing just how old the lead actors, Jennifer Garner and Josh Duhamel, were to be playing parents of teenagers. But then again, I was seated next to my own newly minted teenager.
The theater was packed with a lively audience of both teens and older LGBTQ couples. Laughter, gasps, and heartfelt reactions filled the room as the film unfolded. What struck me most was how this wasn’t merely a groundbreaking story about a gay teenager; it was a powerful affirmation of authenticity and acceptance. In an age where being true to oneself is championed—thanks in part to figures like an openly gay Olympic athlete—Love, Simon stands out as a quintessential romantic comedy for the modern era.
Reflecting on your work, it’s clear that your influence has shaped the landscape of teen narratives. Two decades ago, during my college days, I was captivated by the lives of high school students on Dawson’s Creek, where you directed the landmark moment of the first televised kiss between two male characters. I understood then what it meant for my gay friends, just as I comprehend the significance of Love, Simon for my son now.
Our family may reside in a progressive bubble. Ethan has embraced his identity with pride since he was young—dressing as a princess for Halloween at six, participating in his first Pride Parade at seven, and even representing Audra McDonald during Black History Month. He’s discovered musical legends like Liza Minnelli and Barbra Streisand through YouTube, often singing “Born This Way” as his anthem. It’s no wonder he connected with this film; representation matters.
Yet, I recognize that there are countless kids across America who, like Ethan, know their truth but feel as fearful as Simon. This film is especially crucial for them. I have no doubt that some teenage boys will accompany their girlfriends to see Love, Simon, drawn in by the allure of Nick Robinson’s performance. I hope those boys will see parts of themselves in Simon and find the courage to embrace their own truths.
Love, Simon also holds valuable lessons for straight children, helping them empathize with the struggles faced by their friends grappling with self-discovery. It serves as a poignant reminder of the importance of friendship and the detrimental effects of bullying. On our drive home, we discussed one of Simon’s most impactful lines: “I’m supposed to be the one that decides when and how and who knows, and how I get to say it, that’s supposed to be my thing!”
Thank you, Alex, for creating a film that all kids should see today. You’ve opened the door for families to engage in meaningful conversations about bullying, friendship, honesty, and authenticity. Most importantly, you’ve provided a vital message for young LGBTQ individuals: “I’m just like you.”
In summary, Love, Simon is not just a film; it’s a cultural touchstone that encourages acceptance and understanding among all youth. It reminds us that every story matters, and everyone deserves to see themselves represented on screen.
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