I remember watching Glee. The pilot episode came out the end of my junior year, and then resumed my senior year of high school when I’d already been chosen and named Show Choir Captain (which of course was the biggest triple threat honor and validation one could have as a senior in the arts, right?). ;)
I’ll remember how I felt after the pilot episode forever. A spark lit up inside of me. Of inspiration? Of drive? Of acceptance?
All three!? It made this little choir nerd feel COOL! I remember being blown away because there was nothing quite like it at the time, representing teens unabashedly following their passions whether it seemed cool or not, right or wrong. To just be! The next morning at school we all chatted about how badass we felt and how we would bring that energy to show choir. How cool it was that such a show came out when we were seniors, in a very “Watch out world, this is OUR year” way!
Little baby Kirstie transferred to Martin High School, with its renowned and arguably top music and theatre program of high schools in that area, for freshman year; which felt simultaneously like a nice clean start and incredibly horrifying. I had a few friends from community theatre but not too many in my grade and not too many that I shared classes with.
I was one of two freshman to make show choir my first year, and while I was excited for such an honor it immediately ostracized me. No one knew who I was or where I had come from, and that made me few friends and a few enemies. Although I wasn’t popular in high school, I don’t think I was unpopular…I ran in the theatre and choir crowd and took all AP classes, even graduating in the top 30 of my almost 1000 person class.
My amazing mother instilled a strong worth ethic in me, so I valued working hard in school. I loved the schedule, I loved taking notes because I liked looking at my handwriting and cursive, how neat it was. I liked to highlight and color code everything so it was easier and more enticing to look at. I loved immersing myself in studies and extracurriculars which I balanced well, the curriculum only made harder if I skipped studying to hang with friends, which then turned in to grueling all nighters.
But…sometimes I’d go to first period exhausted (sliding in to my seat right on time or late, you know how I roll) and there would be a Starbucks coffee on my desk from my best friend Will. Or after school when I’d planned to walk home, my friend Jory would give me a ride, but only after we got snow-cones and belted “If Only” from The Little Mermaid musical in the car all the way home.
That’s just two tiny examples of how amazing my friends, how amazing their hearts were. I cherish my time at high school and the people I met there with all my heart!! I feel so fortunate to have spent the BEST times, the worst times, and all the times in between with them. We explored family hardships and disputes, our own sexualities, our fears, our dreams with each other.
My friends were diverse. They were FUN! They inspired me with their work ethic. We all weren’t even pursuing the same thing, and in a way that made all of our uniqueness that much more precious.
I think that’s how Glee was. A bunch of unique people, all doing their own unique things, then finding each other by sharing a common love and becoming friends.
So senior year show choir, we all became a bunch of Rachel Berrys, Santana Lopezes, Finn Hudsons, you name it. Glee had given us, or at least me, this new sparkly confidence. It reminded me that music was exactly what I loved, and what I wanted to spend my life pursuing.
After I graduated and months flew by, I didn’t watch the show as religiously like I used to. I’d catch a few episodes here and there, ones where the characters development and newfound growth intrigued me, but my life had taken a turn and I just didn’t have the time anymore.
July 13, 2013. I was at my ex’s brother’s wedding when I heard the news.
Cory Monteith had died from an overdose.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever cried about a celebrity’s death before then. Although I hadn’t been close to the show anymore, a part of me felt immediately heartbroken. Heartbroken that he’d been alone, heartbroken that he was doing what he was doing in the first place, but had the ability to keep edging deeper and deeper into a point of no return. I had romanticized about a relationship like Rachel and Finn, I had admired his and all the characters hearts and purpose. I had rooted for him. They in a way, felt like my friends, because that’s how I viewed my friends in high school. He was an everlasting part of why and where I was now, because Scott, Mitch, and I formed our trio for a contest to meet the cast of Glee that first season.
People made fun of me that day. You don’t even know him. Why are you so upset?
I watched The Quarterback and then I couldn’t watch Glee again. Occasionally it came on TV, but it didn’t feel the same to me.
To me, Glee was the first show of its kind, representing and making heroes and stars out of people who would have normally been called losers. I’d never seen representation on screen that made me feel special as a Latina or as someone pursing “not a real career.” As the season progressed it evolved past the cheeky humor and delved in to real-world topics and teenage struggles.
Seven years later, with Naya Rivera being found the day of Cory’s passing, I couldn’t help but feel like he played a role in guiding her home.
I think Naya was incredibly underrated. The show obviously had its main frontrunners, but Naya’s character transcended the “normal” teen woes of wanting to be a star. Through her sarcasm and wit, she was more complex. She had more to hide. She had more to give.
I loved seeing a Latina woman on the screen, a REAL one, not just an actor with darker features. I loved seeing her delve in to her sexuality with her best friend, and her experiences made my own feel valid. I thought what courage it must take to sit down with your hispanic grandmother, who you love so dearly, and be able to share a part of them that they maybe wouldn’t understand. I was crying from the second that scene started, thinking I’d maybe never have the courage to be that open.
I’ve thought of Naya and her family a lot this week. I’ve seen how many people loved her. While I never met her, I know her and the rest of the cast left a special mark on my life journey, and I will forever be grateful for them, and her.
I will remember show choir practices, in our sparkly, itchy outfits, preparing for contest.
I will remember sneaking up in to the auditorium catwalk to sneak kisses with my best friend.
I will remember making the silliest videos when we all went to All-State choir.
I will remember belting and dancing on our cars to “Don’t Stop Believing” at the local Starbucks parking lot.
I will remember holding my friends tight crying as we all wore our different college shirts in our final performance as a show choir, having no idea that I was about to go out and be a part of something greater.
Glee brought together a hodgepodge of people. And that’s what Pentatonix was too. And it brought us together.
So I guess at the end of the day, all I want to say is… thank you, to Glee. To Cory. To Naya.
For creating special characters, that lit that special spark.
Rest in peace.