It’s unfortunate how poorly so many people view reality television. 

Of course, the genre doesn’t always do itself any favors; for decades, the most prominent examples of this medium were drunken fights and jaw-dropping bigotry. But viewers forget that reality TV has evolved along with its eternally growing audience. It still contains wild drama, yes, but recent years have seen an increase in shows like “RuPaul’s Drag Race” and “We’re Here,” which offer nuanced insight into the experiences of queer communities today. Series like these have an undeniable impact on the many who watch them, with their episodes among the most reliable sources of authentic representation that queer viewers can count on. That’s why reality television as a whole deserves more respect, and that’s why Netflix’s “The Boyfriend” is one of the most impactful programs airing today. The show has become a hit, with season 2 now streaming.

Japan’s first gay dating show, this series brings together a group of eligible men for one summer in ‘The Green Room,’ a house where they’ll live, run a small business, and hopefully find their true love. Overseen by a panel of commentators — a common practice for Japanese reality TV — the series has astounded for two seasons with the genuine emotions on display. Yet along with the romance, what sets “The Boyfriend” apart is just how informative it is. Not only by offering insight into a queer culture outside of America, but by creating a level of representation that Japan as a country has never seen before. So many scenes and stories on the show are important for LGBTQ audiences across the globe, but what truly sets “The Boyfriend” apart is the simple message that grounds this entire series: it’s not wrong to be gay. 

“In Japan, LGBTQ+ people … [they] are prohibited,” said Durian, a commentator from “The Boyfriend” and one of Japan’s biggest drag performers. “They are regarded as nonexistent …[and] for some of the young people, when it comes to the fact that they are being ignored in society, it could lead to them not having pride in themselves.”

It was a sentiment echoed by “The Boyfriend” cast, with the group describing how LGBTQ identity is rarely discussed in public and only shown through stereotypes. “When I was in middle school, the word gay didn’t exist,” described Huwei, a contestant and member of Thailand’s national judo team. “People would use other words, [ones that] usually mean just being [like] women.” This is reflected in the portrayal of gay people in Japanese media, with the cast detailing how the few times they saw gay characters, it was always hyper-effeminate, ultra cheerful men — traits that were used as joke fodder for the audience. “They’re trying to be [funny], and they’re trying to make people laugh, but it didn’t necessarily have a positive impression,” said Tomoaki, whose time on the show saw the man grapple with accepting his own sexuality.

These topics come up naturally on the program, as well as other facets of what it means to live as a queer person in Japan, granting American audiences vital insight into an LGBTQ culture outside of their own. Durian explained their customs further, saying, “Japan is a bit reserved and very quiet. People may be a little frustrated because they think [the cast] should be more direct, but [their behavior] is really a part of Japanese culture. And if viewers can [understand] that, they’ll be happy.”

It can be easy to forget that the fight for LGBTQ liberation looks different in areas across the world. The cast of “The Boyfriend” not only portrays what dating looks like in their country, but also the many ways their communities fight for acceptance that international audiences don’t often get to see. It doesn’t do this in a way that discredits or villainizes Japanese culture — in fact, many of the men profess how much they love the country that raised them. But their national pride is paired with a hope that their country can grow and begin granting LGBTQ people the respect they deserve. It’s this desire that drives so much of the series’ emotion, making it all the more heartwarming when viewers realize just how important “The Boyfriend” is to this ongoing hope today.  

“For me, I’d never been a part of a gay community … this is really [the first] time I was able to be really true to myself,” said Ryuki, a college student and the youngest member of the group. Bomi, who spent a majority of the season pining after fellow contestant Huwei, agreed, saying, “When I came to the ‘Green Room,’ honestly, in the beginning, I was scared … for the last 20 years, I have not really been honest to myself. But through the life I had [on this show], I’ve been able to be truly myself.”

The franchise’s inherent inclusivity not only allowed the men to find romance but to simply find community amongst one another. This led not only to great television but also to the entire cast raving about their time on the show, while also recognizing how hard it is to find this sense of belonging for so many LGBTQ people in Japan today. 

As the conversation wound down, the men reflected on what their inclusion on this series means for their country going forward. As members of Japan’s inaugural gay dating show, they’ll be providing examples of queer identity outside of the grinning caricatures that have always permeated popular culture. They would finally be giving so many young LGBTQ viewers the knowledge that there are real people like them out there living happy lives today. This realization drove many of the cast to tears, with each expressing how they hoped these episodes would help those viewers desperately searching for representation. And while they all expressed their care, Bomi summarized the group’s thoughts on what they hoped people took away from “The Boyfriend” best.

“I want people to feel that they’re not alone. You’re not alone. I want to tell [them] that we all have the same kind of issues, and there are a lot of people who haven’t really expressed themselves yet … but we are here. We are here with you.”

An uplifting message of community, one that was only possible because of the genuine bonds this group forged throughout their experience. This shows just how much of an impact “The Boyfriend” is already making on Japanese culture, and it’s a reminder for viewers across the world that none of us are alone in the fight for queer equity today. 

“The Boyfriend” season 2 is now streaming on Netflix.

First what isn’t. That would be snow removal in D.C. I understand the inches of sleet that fell on the nearly four inches of snow, and historic days of freezing weather, make it very difficult. But it took three days until they brought out the bigger equipment. Then businesses and homeowners were told they wouldn’t be fined for not clearing their sidewalks, which they have to do by law. That clearly made things worse. The elderly and disabled have an exemption from that, others shouldn’t be given one. Then there was no focus on crosswalks, so pedestrians couldn’t get around, and no apparent early coordination with the BIDS. 

Then there are about 2,200 National Guard troops strolling D.C., yes strolling, at least before the snow. Why weren’t they given immediate snow removal duty. If the president gave a damn about our city he would have assigned them all to help dig out the city. We could have used their equipment, handed out shovels, and put the Guard to use immediately. Maybe the mayor put in her request for the Guard a little late. 

I have met and chatted with many Guard members across the city. A group from Indiana regularly come to my coffee shop, though I haven’t seen them since the snow. I always thank them for their service — I just wish it wasn’t here. Nearly all agree with me, saying they would rather be home with their families, at jobs, or in school. I’ve met Guard members from D.C., West Virginia, Indiana, Mississippi, and Louisiana. My most poignant meeting was with one Guard member from West Virginia the day after his fellow Guard member was murdered. Incredibly sad, but avoidable; she should never have been assigned here to begin with. The government estimates it costs taxpayers $95,000 a year for each deployment. So, again, instead of strolling the streets, they should have been immediately assigned to assist with snow removal. Clearly the felon, his fascist aides, and incompetent Cabinet, are too busy supporting the killing of American citizens in Minneapolis, to care about this. I thank those Guard members now helping nearly a week after the snow began to fall. I recognize this was a difficult storm. I hope the city will learn from this for the future. 

Now for something happening in D.C. that shouldn’t be. A host of retreads have announced they are candidates for office in both the June Democratic primary, and general election. Some are names you might remember but hoped were long gone. Two left the Council under ethical clouds. One is Jack Evans. He announced his candidacy for City Council president. I like Jack personally, having known him since he served on a Dupont ANC. This race is a massive waste of time and money, as he will surely lose. Even before his ethics issues were made public, and his leaving the Council under a cloud in 2020, he ran for mayor in 2014. At that time, he received only 5% of the vote, even in his own Ward. At 73, he should accept his electoral career is over. Another person who left the Council over questionable ethics, Vincent Orange, who is nearly 70, announced he is running for mayor. He did that last in 2014, when he got only 2% of the vote in the primary. He is another one who will surely lose. Both will likely qualify for city funding, wasting taxpayer money. I know I will be called an ageist. But reality is, in most cases, it’s time for a new generation to take the lead. Another person who has served before, was defeated for reelection, is now trying for a comeback on the Council. I think the outsized egos of these individuals should not be foisted on the voters. If they are really interested in serving the community, there are many ways to do it without holding elective office.

Then there is ICE and the continuing situation in Minneapolis. I applaud Democrats in Congress for holding up long-term funding for ICE for at least two weeks and getting the felon to negotiate. Now not every ICE agent behaves like the gestapo, but their bosses condone the behavior of the ones who do. Secretary of Homeland Security, Kristi Noem, who shot her dog, and Trump’s Goebbels, Stephen Miller, seem to think nothing of causing the deaths of American citizens. 

Now the felon’s FBI and DOJ are arresting journalists; then going to Georgia and removing stored ballots from the 2020 election, all because the felon is still obsessed with that loss. His disappearing DNI, Tulsi Gabbard, was involved in that for some reason. The felon is a sick, demented, old man. They must all be stopped before they completely destroy our democracy.

Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.

If we were forced to declare why “Grey Gardens” became a cult classic among gay men, it would be all the juicy quotes that have become part of the queer lexicon.

Celebrating the 50th anniversary of its theatrical release this month, the landmark documentary profiles two eccentrics: Edith Ewing Bouvier Beale and her daughter, Edith Bouvier Beale (known as “Big” and “Little” Edie, respectively), the aunt and cousin of former first lady Jaqueline Kennedy Onassis and socialite Lee Radziwell. Once moving within an elite circle of American aristocrats, they had fallen into poverty and were living in isolation at their run-down estate (the Grey Gardens of the title) in East Hampton, Long Island; they re-entered the public eye in 1972 after local authorities threatened eviction and demolition of their mansion over health code violations, prompting their famous relatives to swoop in and pay for the necessary repairs to avoid further family scandal. 

At the time, Radziwell had enlisted filmmaking brothers David and Albert Maysles to take footage for a later-abandoned project of her own, bringing them along when she went to put in an appearance at the Grey Gardens clean-up efforts. It was their first encounter with the Beales; the second came two years later, when they returned with their cameras (but without Radziwell) and proceeded to make documentary history, turning the two Edies into unlikely cultural icons in the process.

On paper, it reads like something painful: two embittered former socialites, a mother and daughter living among a legion of cats and raccoons in the literal ruins of their former life, where they dwell on old memories, rehash old conflicts, and take out their resentments on each other, attempting to keep up appearances while surviving on a diet that may or may not include cat food. Truthfully, it is sometimes difficult to watch, which is why it’s easier to approach from surface level, focusing on the “wacky” eccentricities and seeing the Beales as objects for ridicule. 

Yet to do so is to miss the true brilliance of a movie that is irresistible, unforgettable, and fascinating to the point of being hypnotic, and that’s because of the Beales themselves, who are far too richly human to be dismissed on the basis of conventional judgments.

First is Little Edie, in her endless array of headscarves (to cover her hair loss from alopecia) and her ever-changing wardrobe of DIY “revolutionary costumes,” a one-time model and might-have-been showgirl who is obviously thrilled at having an audience and rises giddily to the occasion like a pro. Flamboyant, candid, and smarter than we think, she’s also fearlessly vulnerable; she gives us access to an emotional landscape shaped by the heartbreaks of a past that’s gradually revealed as the movie goes on, and it’s her ability to pull herself together and come back fighting that wins us over. By the time she launches into her monologue about being a “S-T-A-U-N-C-H” woman, we have no doubt that it’s true.

Then there’s Big Edie, who comes across as an odd mix of imperious dowager and down-to-earth grandma. She gets her own chance to shine for the camera, especially in the scenes where she reminisces about her early days as a “successful” amateur vocalist, singing along to records of songs she used to perform as glimpses emerge of the beauty and talent she commanded in her prime. She’s more than capable of taking on her daughter in their endless squabbles, and savvy enough to score serious points in the conflict, like stirring up jealousy with her attentions to beefy young handyman Jerry – whom the younger Edie has dubbed “the Marble Faun” – when he comes around to share a feast of boiled corn-on-the-cob with them. “Jerry likes the way I do my corn,” she deadpans to the camera, even though we know it’s meant for Little Edie.

It’s not just that their eccentricities verge on camp; that’s certainly an undeniable part of the appeal, but it falls away quickly as you begin to recognize that even if these women are putting on a show for the camera, they’re still being completely themselves – and they are spectacular.

Yes, their verbal sparring is often shrill and palpably toxic – in particular, Big Edie has no qualms about belittling and shaming her daughter in an obviously calculated effort to undermine her self-esteem and discourage her from making good on her repeated threats to leave Grey Gardens. We know she is acting from fear of abandonment, but it’s cruel, all the same. 

These are the moments that disturb us more than any of the dereliction we see in their physical existence; fed by nostalgia and forged in a deep codependence that neither wants to acknowledge, their dynamic reflects years of social isolation that has made them into living ghosts, going through the habitual motions of a long-lost life, ruminating on ancient resentments, and mulling endlessly over memories of the things that led them to their outcast state. As Little Edie says early on, “It’s very difficult to keep the line between the past and the present. Do you know what I mean?”

That pithy observation, spoken conspiratorially to the Maysles’ camera, sets the tone for the entirety of “Grey Gardens,” perhaps even suggesting an appropriate point of meditation through which to contemplate everything that follows. It’s a prime example of the quotability that has helped this odd little movie endure as a fixture in queer culture; for many LGBTQ people, both Edies – born headstrong, ambitious, and independent into a social strata that only wanted its women to be well-behaved – became touchstones of frustrated longing, of living out one’s own fabulousness in isolated secrecy. Add to that shared inner experience Little Edie’s knack for turning scraps into kitschy fashion (and the goofy-but-joyous flag dance she performs as a sort of climactic topper near the end), and it should be obvious why the Maysles Brothers’ little project still resonates with the community five decades later.

Indeed, watching it in today’s cultural climate, it strikes chords that resonate through an even wider spectrum, touching on feminist themes through these two “problematic” women who have been effectively banished for refusing to fit into a mold, and on the larger issue of social and economic inequality that keep them trapped, ultimately turning them against one other in their powerlessness.

With that in mind, it’s clear these women were never filmed to be objects of ridicule. They’re survivors in a world in which even their unimaginably wealthy relatives would rather look away than offer more than the bare minimum of help, and the resilience they show in the face of tremendous adversity makes them worthy of celebration, instead.

That’s why “Grey Gardens” still hits close to home, why it entertains despite its darkness, and why we remember it as something bittersweet but beautiful. By the end of it, we recognize that the two Edies could be any of us, which means they are ALL of us – and if they can face their challenges with that much “revolutionary” spirit, then maybe we can be “staunch” against our adversities, too.