Media, identification, and affirmative practices in everyday life

Recently, we at Close in the Distance have found ourselves increasingly bringing together fields that, on paper, might seem far apart: media education, gaming, clinical and educational practice. In reality, in everyday work, these areas constantly speak to one another.

We are experiencing, in very concrete ways, how media narratives can become powerful tools of recognition, especially when working with LGBTQ+ people and young adults. Not because they “teach” something directly, but because they offer images, stories, and characters with whom it is possible to identify, even if only for a moment.

It happens when someone mentions Alec Lightwood, Lexa, a character from Glee, or from Sex Education. It happens when a series becomes a shared reference point, a safe ground on which to talk about oneself without having to expose oneself directly. Saying “I see myself in that character” is often easier than saying “this has to do with me.”

In educational, listening, or clinical contexts, these identifications function as real gateways. They make it possible to talk about relationships, desire, conflict, coming out, and belonging, without having to start from rigid definitions or abstract categories. Stories do the dirty work for us: they normalize, legitimize, and open up possibilities.
And so, instead of thinking in terms of a “traditional” prescription, lately we find ourselves saying, “watch this show.”
“Watch it together with your siblings.”
“If you liked it when you were younger, rewatch an episode of Glee. Or of Shadowhunters.”

What we observe, in fact, is that there is no need to build complex or overly structured interventions. Often, it is enough to recognize the affirmative value of what people already consume, watch, play, and love. Making room for those narratives, taking them seriously, and using them as working material means doing psychoeducation in an accessible and non-judgmental way.

Not all representations work in the same way, and not all of them are “good.” But when a story manages to convey complexity, ambivalence, and the possibility of error and growth, it becomes a resource. A way of saying, implicitly: existing like this is possible.

And it is often from there that the most interesting conversations begin.