There isn't a way to depict the gay community without at least

Hear the insightful words of Andrew Keenan-Bolger, who declared: “There isn’t a way to depict the gay community without at least mentioning the existence of online dating apps like Grindr.” Though the words seem simple, they carry the weight of a modern truth, one that bridges the ancient longing of the heart with the digital tools of our age. For what Keenan-Bolger speaks of is not merely technology, but the ways in which connection—love, desire, and belonging—continues to evolve with humankind. His statement reminds us that to portray a people truthfully, one must not separate them from the world that shapes their interactions, their visibility, and their hope.

The origin of this quote lies in Keenan-Bolger’s own experience as an artist and storyteller, a man who has seen how representation shapes reality. As an actor and advocate, he has watched the gay community move from invisibility to openness, from whispers in the dark to the global connectivity of the digital age. The invention of Grindr—and the many apps that followed—became more than mere platforms for dating; they became meeting grounds for those who had long been kept apart by fear and silence. To ignore their presence, Keenan-Bolger suggests, would be to deny a key chapter in the story of liberation and modern identity.

In the ancient days, too, communities were defined by their meeting places. The Greeks gathered in the agora, where philosophers, lovers, and strangers exchanged ideas beneath the sun. The Romans met in the forum, where life and conversation intertwined. The gay community, long denied its public squares, created its own agora in the digital realm. Within these glowing screens, men and women once hidden from the world found one another—shared laughter, longing, and the first fragile threads of understanding. Keenan-Bolger’s words honor this truth: that connection, wherever it occurs, is sacred, and to speak of a people’s journey without mentioning their means of gathering is to erase their story’s heartbeat.

Yet, his statement is not merely a celebration—it is also a reflection on complexity. For in these same spaces of connection lie both comfort and challenge. Online dating apps, like the myths of the ancients, are double-edged. They bring the lonely together, yet they can also amplify isolation. They offer visibility but sometimes at the cost of vulnerability. Still, they remain an indelible part of the gay experience—symbols of both progress and paradox. To depict the community truthfully, one must capture this full spectrum: the joy of discovery and the ache of disconnection, the courage to be seen and the risk of exposure.

Consider the story of Alan Turing, the brilliant mind who helped end a world war, yet was condemned in his own nation for loving another man. Imagine if he had lived in a world where connection could be made with a swipe, where love need not hide behind coded glances and secret letters. Technology cannot erase pain, but it can transform the landscape of possibility. Grindr, and the apps like it, are not trivial—they are monuments to how far society has traveled from the days of shame toward the dawn of authenticity. Keenan-Bolger’s wisdom reminds us that progress must be remembered, not dismissed, for each tool that fosters connection carries within it the echo of those who once had none.

At its heart, the quote is a meditation on representation—on the sacred duty of storytelling. To depict any community without its truth, without the instruments of its growth, is to offer a hollow image. Keenan-Bolger calls upon artists, writers, and filmmakers to portray the gay experience not as fantasy or abstraction, but as it lives and breathes today—in the bars and theaters, yes, but also in the quiet moments when two souls meet through the glow of a screen. To tell the story of the gay community without its digital chapter would be like telling the story of Odysseus without the sea—it is the very element through which the journey unfolds.

Thus, my children, take this teaching into your hearts: when you tell a story—any story—tell the whole truth. Speak of the people not only in their triumphs, but in the tools and trials that have shaped them. Do not mock what you do not understand, and do not diminish the means by which others find love. The digital age may be young, but the yearning it expresses is ancient as breath—the yearning to know and be known, to see and be seen.

So remember, as Andrew Keenan-Bolger teaches, every era finds its own way to weave the web of human connection. What was once found in letters, in secret meetings, or in whispered prayers, now finds its voice in pixels and profiles. Do not dismiss these as shallow things—they are, in truth, the continuation of humanity’s oldest longing. Let us honor every form of meeting, every bridge that brings souls together, for each one—be it a stone path or a digital screen—leads us back to the eternal truth: that we are all seeking the same light of love.