Screen Time Channel Blog by Kabal Briar
I used to trust my screen crushes more than real people. You know, the way a kid trusts the moon to always glow, even when the city lights try to drown it out. It’s safer to fall for the version of love or friendship that can’t text you back late or forget your birthday. I still do it sometimes, if I’m honest. The other night, I found myself getting soft over a moment on Pose, the way Blanca just sits with Pray Tell and lets him be messy and dramatic and beautiful. No speeches. Just presence.
There’s this one scene where Blanca puts her hand on Pray Tell’s shoulder. That’s it. No violins. No big talk. Just a steady hand, a little squeeze, a look that says “I see you, even when you’re hiding from yourself.” Something in me quieted down. Like my own inner child, the one still learning how to be soft in a world that expects Black queer folks to armor up, suddenly felt safe enough to breathe.
I remember being fourteen, watching TV in my grandma’s living room, searching for anyone who looked at their friends the way I wanted to be seen. I didn’t trust real people with my softness yet. But there, on screen, a queer hand on a queer shoulder, I saw a blueprint for tenderness. I felt it in my chest. It’s a little embarrassing, how much I still want that exact moment. I want to be held like that, no questions, no explanations. And I want to offer it too, even when I’m scared.
So yeah, maybe I still trust my screen crushes first. But every time I see a moment like that, I remember it’s possible in real life. Maybe not every day, but sometimes. And that’s enough to keep trying, both on screen and off.