Glee is the greatest thing to ever grace a television screen and you can’t change my mind.
I’ve decided that 2025 is my year of self-acceptance, but why wait? I’m getting a head start on my resolution now, inspired by one of my close friends who, after revealing something embarrassing, proudly proclaims, “That’s the real me.” So here it is: I’m a gleek. That’s the real me.
If you haven’t seen the eccentric, cringeworthy masterpiece of a series, let me break it down for you. Glee follows the lives of a group of misfit teenagers who join the William McKinley High glee club in hopes of easing their struggle to survive the horrors of American high school. Led by their more than slightly unhinged (and kind of pedophilic) teacher, Will Schuster, the show choir pretty much just sings, cries, and occasionally throws slushies in each other’s faces for six seasons straight. Picture High School Musical, but with sabotage, sass, and sex scandals that nobody asked for. It’s chaotic, campy, and undeniably iconic.
Growing up, I always hated my hometown. Nestled in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, Mount Angel is potentially the most obscure and underwhelming place to spend your childhood. The architecture is German, as are the people, and the town is adorned with Catholicism and MAGA lawn signs. My education was everything you see on Glee about a stereotypical American high school, but make it country (and definitely not cunty). My peers wore square-toed cowboy boots and Ariat jeans. Meanwhile, arts programs dissipated year by year, while the football team thrived. Conversely, my days outside the conservative confines of Mount Angel were spent collecting records, creating music, exploring the beautiful pacific northwest, boogying at bluegrass festivals, and a myriad of other activities my neighbors would turn their heads at. I was an artistically expressive adolescent, desperate to create, and my hometown withheld my canvas. Not to pull the whole “artsy, perpetually misunderstood loner” card, but yeah, I definitely didn’t belong there. Maybe that’s why Glee struck such a chord with me.
After watching the pilot episode, Glee instantly became my comfort show. It embraced the awkwardness, musicality, and sense of not quite belonging that I recognized in myself. The over-the-top melodrama? That was just an added bonus. I formed a deep connection with the outcast teens (except Rachel—she was hella annoying), as many of us do with our favorite fictional characters. In a way, I felt a part of the glee club too.
The group’s first Nationals win after an unforgettable performance of “Edge of Glory,” “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now,” and “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” brings me to tears every time I watch it. I’m not just talking about a few drops down the cheek, I’m talking about a full-on weep. Watching the lovable group of misfits overcome relentless setbacks and underestimation alongside one another never fails to warm my heart. The show ignited a hope in me—that one day, I would create a community as special as the one in McKinley High School’s choir room.
Glee still lingers in my life today. My playlists are littered with my favorite covers from the show, and every time my hometown friends get in the car with me, they let out a collective groan as Artie belts out Jamie Foxx and T-Pain’s “Blame It,” unapologetically blasting from my speakers. But no matter how many eye rolls I get, Glee, they could never make me hate you.
Article by Sailor Hill