By Talia Vyadro

My re-education, whether I liked it or not, began when I met Jenna. I’m not even quite sure that the word “meeting" would accurately reflect the way in which Jenna appeared in my life as that indicates an element of organization and timeliness, neither of which I associate with our relationship. Sometimes it makes sense to start at the beginning, and sometimes it doesn’t. Where’s the fun in that?

There are plenty of shows to choose from these days. Distinguishing talent from convenience is a whole other story. Now that Hollywood has opened its playground to almost an uninhibited amount of “storytellers,” it feels painful to even begin to confront that shame that comes with not being able to identify with many of them. When I was still pursuing the tangible flags of the identity I assumed would last forever, it was easier for me to play into the tropes presented to me on a silver platter paired with the songs that were already programmed in my head.The more I became shut out and disillusioned with the model of heteronormality the more angry and disparaged I got with the content I now realize I was slightly forced to interact with. In hindsight, I equate staying in the closet with the death of my once active imagination and empathy.

Like so many others, I experienced re-birth at a gay bar. Here it was, waiting for me. What I wanted. I remember many things about that first night at Club Cafe. My memories are beautifully preserved for me to parse over at my own leisure. I fixate on different delicate aspects of the safety, community, and representation I found on and off the dance floor.

One particular image always comes to mind: a girl in a tuxedo vest resting her hands on a wooden table, something close to sunbathing if it was inside. Something close to knowing what she came there to do. With her there was an option that I had never considered, to sit alone, to drink alone, to be whole.

Today I’m meeting Jenna for coffee. It's been a few months since I interviewed her in person. With her, many complicated notions of social conventions are irrelevant. Just like I know my last name, I know that our conversation will harmonize to the pitch of a warm hug. She’s back from LA but it's not like she really left because as a director and a writer, Jenna’s particular talent stems from being firmly rooted in her past, present, and future, as well as those of the characters she invents. Jenna, unlike many people I’ve met these days, doesn’t forget where she came from.

Tomboys exists not only because it's necessary but also because it's the product of only the kind of love and conviction that allows for a twenty-something girl to quiet any voices of doubt and produce insatiably. Jenna’s show has no qualms about the appetite for queer joy it instills in viewers.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what love looks like and how it can present differently from what I’ve imagined. I know right now my mind can’t focus on the uncertainties in life. I crave comfort in the love that is unconditional, patient, and at its core curious because that curiosity is what transcends life’s uncertainties. Curiosity is what gives strangers or friends or lovers the power to elevate and support each other. These words are simple but true. Tomboys channels curiosity in order to capture the beauty that is queer love. Queerness is built on curiosity and Jenna’s is visible everywhere from the script to the soundtrack.  

Jenna’s career is built on experimentation. Starting as a lighting gaffer on smaller Emerson film sets then transitioning to direction, Jenna knows how to command a room. When speaking to her, her voice is firm but gentle, a reminder that she knows what to do but will never let go of your hand.

The many hands that will reach out to her is not knowable at this time but I do know that Jenna’s legacy will mark Hollywood in ways that I am curious to find out.