Season 1, Episode 8 - Secrets & Lies

Original Airdate - December 9th, 2001

Ashley is feeling great. Her super cool father has moved back to Toronto after a stint in London. But her mom is acting weird. Ashley can’t shake the feeling that there’s a secret, and can’t help herself from hoping that the secret is her parents are getting back together.

Her dad, a journalist, gives a talk to her media immersion class, and catches everyone’s eye. Paige can’t believe that such a handsome, successful man is single which only fuels Ashley’s hopes. Her dad drives her home, and after witnessing her parents’ sweet dynamic, Ashley confronts her mom to get the truth. Her mom says they’re not getting back together, but remains cagey.

Ashely pushes, she knows there’s a secret. What, is he gay or something? Ashley’s mom wanted to let her dad tell her, but yes, he is gay. This blows Ashely’s mind. There’s a Hitchcock vertigo shot. 

The next day at school, Ashely is moody. Paige, not realizing the minefield that she’s walking into, tells Ashley she’s been thinking and wonders if her dad may be gay. Ashley overreacts and throws chocolate milk in Paige’s face. Paige drops the first mention of her gay older brother who we will meet soon.

Ashley's Dad checks her out of school so they can talk. He explains that it took him some time to figure himself out and he regrets that Ashley end her Mom were hurt by that. He loves Ashley’s mom, but when he realized the truth, he had to free them both from a marriage that lacked romantic love. At the time, it made sense not to tell 8-year-old Ashley, but he is sorry he waited so long.

The conversation sours when he reveals he has a partner, Christopher. Ashley is mad because she’s met Christopher, and her dad lied about the relationship. In fact, all he’s ever done is lie to her and abandon her for some guy with a mustache. She storms off. 

Terri finds her and asks what’s wrong. Ashley comes clean on all she has learned and says she’s done with her dad. She’s cutting him out of her life. Terri is not sympathetic. Her mother is dead, and she can’t understand why someone who has the choice to have their parent in their life wouldn’t choose that.

Over in Grade 7, jokester JT is surprised when Liberty takes the blame for a paper airplane that JT threw at Mr. Simpson. Emma blows his mind when she states the obvious. Liberty has a crush on him. JT starts trying to avoid her, but Liberty is coming on strong. She declares him Grapevine Student of the Week as an excuse to spend time together.

But Toby tells JT about Ashley’s gay dad, and while JT doesn’t really understand how anyone could be gay, he sees an opportunity. Liberty is not taking the hint, and still mooning over him. Emma and Manny don’t want to be the one to burst her bubble. Toby earns some points from me by being the only one to tell JT to be honest and direct with her. JT decides to come out instead. 

He tells Liberty that he’s gay and she shouldn’t tell anyone. He thought she should know since she has a crush. Liberty denies ever having any feelings. Later, he acts stereotypically gay in front of her to seal the deal and she storms off. She corners him and pushes. It really does make sense that he’s gay. And hey, why not use the Grapevine article to come out and help other kids wrestling with their identity. 

JT relents and tells the whole truth. Liberty is stung. If he didn’t like her, he could have just said so. I like that this episode doesn’t really resolve either story. Degrassi is leaning into its soap opera inspiration and it feels very true to teenage life. Hashtag relateable!

When I first got to college, I was determined to have gay friends. Well, I was determined to meet a man who wanted to date me, but gay friends would be a nice path to that. I went to a freshman meetup of the gay student group and felt so overwhelmed. Everyone seemed like they had so much experience with gay culture, so I pretended I did too. Yeah, I’d seen that movie. Yeah, I love going dancing. We’re the same. Please like me.

The first time I lived around a large group of gay people was when I was in the Disney College Program. I think it was sort of a culture shock for most of us. Everyone in the program mostly spent time with other people in the program, and there were a lot of gay people. Less than people joked, but so many gay people. More gay people than I’d ever been around in my life.

For whatever reason, I hadn’t expected it to be that gay, and I certainly didn’t expect how that would make me feel. It was thrilling and it was terrifying. I had the opportunity to be myself in a big way. And surely some of these men would want to kiss me. But at the same time, if these people rejected me, where would I ever feel belonging?

I chose what I thought was an expert strategy. I would avoid any circumstance where I didn’t feel completely in control or comfortable, but I would lie about my experience so I didn’t seem scared. Go out to the club? Eh, no thanks. I went with different people last week and there are better places to dance. Come to a apartment party at a total strangers? Oh nah, I actually met him before and the vibes were off.

Shockingly, no one wanted to spend time with the weird, patronizing guy who never seemed to want to do anything social. I threw myself into the parts of gay life that made me comfortable. First I had a fling with the boy across the hall that got too intense, too quickly and then died before I could enjoy it. And then, once that fizzled, I got into secretive, passionless hookups. I didn’t leave Disney with gay friends. Turns out pretending to already have a gay social life didn’t help me grow one.

My first time in an LA gay bar, I was there with a group of straight people, and felt like I needed to seem more comfortable at the bar than they did. Look how fearlessly I dance. Look how boldly I weave through the bodies. Look how I call the bartender “girl.” You’re just visiting, but I’m at home here. Promise.

I joined a gay board gaming group to try to make queer friends shortly after grad school. I was doggedly determined to code switch. I could be just like them, and this time, my social life would be sorted. Being like them meant being lowkey mean to people I know the best. I tried for a while, but it made me feel unsafe. Maybe this one doesn’t count. I don’t think pretending to be mean is pretending to be gay. I don’t think all gay men are like that. But I sure did use it as an excuse to decide I didn’t want gay friends after all.

In my last relationship, I started going to raves and warehouse parties. I’d never really thought it would be my scene, but it was definitely his scene, so I wanted to go. I was mature enough to be honest about my lack of experience in these spaces, with these vibes, with these substances. I felt like I had someone who could help me navigate and I was ready to be myself.

And in a lot of ways I was and in a lot of ways he did. About half the time I was able to dive into it, let my fear go, actually be there in the wild, gay euphoria. Half the time, it was fine when guys flirted with my boyfriend and not me. Half the time, my boldness and self-confidence got me attention from people I never would have thought would give me the time of day. Half the time, I wasn’t pretending. I was blissfully and wonderfully gay. It was incredible.

And the other half of the time, I faked it. When the drug cocktail wasn’t right or I wasn’t feeling secure, I would put on a happy face and go to the party anyway. But I realized something unfortunate. Something I should have picked up from all of my other attempts at building a gay world around myself. I’m not very good at pretending. No one was convinced by my constant checkins, my weird lurking, my muted energy, my flat insistence that I liked the music. Faking it and praying I made it did nothing but kill everyone else’s buzz.

I wish I could say that I looked back on that, all of that, and felt like I wish I hadn’t tried to pretend. That I learned that I could be gay in my own way, and that I didn’t need to force anything. That there was no one way to be gay and I didn’t have to act like anyone else to qualify. That I don’t need those friends or that relationship. On the surface, that is what I believe. On the surface, that is how I’m acting.

But deep down, that’s not what I feel. Deep down, I wish I pretended better. That I could slip on the role of cool, gay guy with natural ease. I think that would have made me just like everyone else. Faking my way through the moments I felt insecure or unsure to reach those magical moments where, because of the people or the drugs or the pheromones or the music, I could feel that pure dose of gay belonging.

Instead, I don’t fake it any more. And I don’t really do gay stuff at all. There’s probably a happy medium, but I sure haven’t found it.

When I would hook up with men in my 20s, I would choose the most aggressive, dominant guys I could find. Mostly older men that liked that I was young. They came at me with an intensity that I still only experience from older men. The gay men reading this probably know what I’m talking about.

Now, that kind of approach makes me uncomfortable. Back then, it was like a magic spell. I would go to their apartment or their house and they would give me a mediocre fucking and ask me if I liked it and I would think no and I would say yeah because all I wanted from other gay men, all I ever wanted, was to feel like they were glad I was one of them.