Only by clinging steadfastly to a memory of a happy Syria can I believe that one day those who contributed to both sides of the current war will commit to help the victims of the conflict. Syrian refugees are dying in the cold, and the price of a jacket is far less than the price of a weapon.
Do not misunderstand. Some (most?) pop culture chyme comes predisposed to caricature, and frequently deserves parody (Hi, Kanye West). But in the case of a humble and heartfelt, low-budget moment, parody can also be the sincerest form of casual cruelty.
Instinctually I knew that if we did this project, we'd need to approach it as a documentary to capture the intimacy and we'd have to control it visually to catch the unpredictable nature of what was going to happen in front of the camera.
I asked my lesbian mother whether she would prefer if I turned out gay or straight. We were in my loft bed: a private place at the top of the world, perfect for a hushed conversation like this. I was aware of the topic's sensitivity and I knew I'd put her in a bind.
When I compare my first kiss with a girl to my make-out session with what's-his-name, I realize that sexual orientation sometimes takes a back seat to other tenants of our identities, even as it relates to love.