One thing is absolutely true: a cute slogan on a colourful background will take you where you need to go.
From Tumblr, to Facebook, to Instagram, there’s always someone telling you to “let go, let flow”. People have perfected the art of just-cryptic-enough-to-sound-deep. The problem is, repeating popular mantras is only the beginning. You must internalise the words and then do some self-reflection. Yikes. So, many opt for the easy way out: hoarding messages on Post-Its, crocheted pillows and T-shirts, then hoping osmosis will do the rest. If I feel it on my body, it will be true. If I see it whenever I open my eyes, it will be true.
It’s a certain type of person that takes this kind of motivation seriously. The kind who has a constant need to be reassured that they are on the right path, that they are okay. The kind of person who fills their home with mismatched crockery and tie dyed cushions. The kind who has made a safe space for themselves to escape the pressure and judgement of life in the outside world.
Someone like Sam, the drama teacher from Veridale High in No Hiding Here. At first glance, the man is a walking stereotype: gay, flambouyant, dedicated to theatre. In a world where all those things put him under uncomfortable scrutiny, Sam channels his energy into caring for his three biggest fans, i.e. the only students who signed up for drama club, and encouraging them to develop and display their talents. Sam is the best friend they all need, the trusted “cool adult” who makes going to school worthwhile. But would he have any knowledge to draw from if he didn’t have those twee platitudes?
When they walk into Sam’s home, guests are implored to “be your own kind of beautiful”. There’s no context given so I suppose everyone just slowly sips their tea and tries not to shake things up. At least on the way to Sam’s kitchen there is more information about the host’s philosophy: “positive mind, positive vibes, positive life”. All it takes is a smile and a thumbs up.
Caleb, the man Sam is falling in love with, teases Sam about the posters, asking him if he really believes any of it will help. Their first confrontation happens with a “be you, be true” poster looming over them.
Caleb, who is strugglig with his own identity as a gay man, is uncomfortable with the glib sayings strewn throughout the house. To him, mantras are not “real” enough. They are just another way for Sam to play it safe, to live his life just loud enough to hold onto the approval he so craves from everyone. Caleb is a newly disgraced pop star, so, of course, he is not one to talk. But still, he has raised a good question: who are we all living for, anyway?
And he’s right: hiding behind platitudes won’t save us. But is there anything wrong with having something to believe in?
Nkhensani Manabe 