FRIENDS

The sitcom Friends has long been celebrated as a cultural touchstone for its humor, iconic characters, and portrayal of friendships in New York City. However, watching it again two decades later, the show reveals some cringe-worthy moments, especially for those of us in the LGBTQ+ community. As a proud and out gay man, it’s hard to ignore the problematic tone the show adopts in several episodes.

One of the most glaring issues is Chandler’s attitude toward his father, who is portrayed as transgender. Instead of accepting or even attempting to understand his father’s identity, Chandler often resorts to jokes and derision, feeding into outdated stereotypes.

Throughout the series, Chandler is frequently mistaken for being gay, and he constantly reacts with exaggerated discomfort or anxiety. This recurring joke plays into the idea that being seen as gay is embarrassing or something to be avoided, which subtly reinforces homophobic attitudes. There’s even a flashback episode where Chandler talks about being afraid of “turning gay” because his parents got divorced. This comment reduces complex personal issues to a baseless fear of homosexuality, implying that being gay is something undesirable or linked to emotional trauma.

This discomfort with LGBTQ+ identities is a recurring theme throughout the series, with many characters expressing unease around gay people, whether through homophobic jokes or dismissive attitudes.

Take, for example, the episode where Ross and Brad Pitt’s character cruelly joke that Rachel is a hermaphrodite. The comment isn’t just off-color; it shows a total disregard for sensitivity and the real-life experiences of intersex individuals. When Carol and Susan get married, the ceremony is treated as a novelty, with some characters expressing awkwardness about attending. Though the show deserves credit for airing a lesbian wedding at a time when this was rarely seen on TV, it was still framed in a way that made the audience feel like it was an oddity.

Similarly, Monica and Chandler’s treatment of their maid—accusing her of stealing Monica’s clothes—feels not only overblown but abusive. The way Monica handles that situation, fueled by her insecurities, highlights a troubling power dynamic.

Joey’s character, known for his womanizing ways, also offers moments of toxic masculinity that now feel outdated. He’s perfectly fine with sleeping around, but when it comes to his sister being pregnant, he can’t handle it. Then there’s the issue of his discomfort with grooming and self-care, reinforcing the stereotype that men who take care of their appearance are somehow less masculine. In one episode, Phoebe even calls Joey a “woman” for grooming himself, though Monica rightfully stands up for him. Similarly, Joey’s comments about men doing their eyebrows being “sissy” is another eye-rolling moment.

Joey often makes offhand comments that imply being gay is something to be avoided, like when he jokingly warns Ross about the dangers of hanging out with his lesbian ex-wife and her partner. He treats the idea of being around gay people as if it’s a threat to his own masculinity. Whenever Chandler or Joey show affection toward each other, it’s often accompanied by homophobic jokes or awkwardness, as if two men expressing close friendship must be shielded by humor to avoid any “gay” connotations.

The show is littered with subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) homophobia. Ross, in particular, stands out in his awkwardness and unease with anything that challenges traditional masculinity. He’s irritated by Sandy, the male nanny, despite Sandy being the perfect caregiver for his child. Rachel defends Sandy, but in the end, he’s still written off because he doesn’t fit into Ross’s heteronormative idea of a nanny. And when they hire a different nanny, Ross’s immediate reaction is sexual—only to find out she’s a lesbian, which Joey, predictably, finds exciting.

There are countless other moments: Mona’s date commenting on Ross’s pink shirt, the ridicule of a gay colleague at Ross’s conference, and the laughter at Ross’s speech when he uses the term “homo erectus.” These are moments that might’ve seemed harmless to straight audiences at the time but are painful and alienating for LGBTQ+ viewers today. Imagine how I felt when these scenes came up when I was struggling to find acceptance in a homophobic society.

In retrospect, Friends often worked for its straight, cisgender audience by reinforcing the norms of the time. But for those of us who see these jokes and storylines through the lens of experience and pride in our identities, the show feels outdated and at times deeply offensive. What was once a comfort watch has become a reminder of the work still needed to challenge and change these ingrained cultural narratives.

Spoiler

The thing about life is that no matter how honest you want to get with it, it always wants a show. Something sensational! Something that will make others go, oh, really! How terrible! Or, really, how incredible! When you want to live your life according to the honest, and being truthful and wish to live your life according to your own terms, you can do so – but two conclusions happen. One where the world decides that you cannot be trifled with and so leaves you to their own devices. Two, where the world pretends to assume that it was not you who helped with the creation of your life but everyone around you made who you are and so credit should never come to you.

When I was young, I was bullied, ridiculed and beaten. Society – from my father to my friends – tried to make me behave in a certain way. If I didn’t, I was beaten, thanks to my father, or I was left, like countless friends and lovers. If I came out, it was because I had a fantastic support structure. If I stood up against bullies, it was because my father toughened me up. If I decided I would leave my family if they didn’t accept my sexuality, and they did accept me, it was because I had a fantastic, understanding family. If I was cheated on by my lover of thirteen years, and opened up my relationship so that I could participate in a new world view, my lover was broad-minded enough to accept this change. If my mother left my father, after he nearly strangled me to death, she was brave enough to do so.

I sound petulant now, don’t I?

No.

In this day and age, I have realized one thing. I have made me who I am. I have been broken. I have been torn apart. I have been beaten. Literally. And I have made it through. I have lived my life on my terms. I have decided that the path of honesty is something I want to walk on, irrespective of what and who I might lose. I have been true to every single value that I took up and I have never shirked my responsibilities. I have been through shit, of course, there is this concept of whose shit is more difficult, harder, crueler… but we are not comparing.

I remember a dialogue from Ally McBeal. Georgia goes, “Ally, why are your problems bigger than the rest of ours?” And Ally replies, “Because they are mine.” However, that is not even the issue I am trying to bring about. I am not complaining about the problems I have faced. I am not even complaining about the acknowledgement that goes elsewhere. I am just asking for some honesty. If you don’t wish to listen to me, do not. Do not, however, make the pretence of listening and then realizing I don’t make good matter, because I am unbreakable.

We all want good drama. But I realise I am now a spoiler. I am the ending that is sure. The path already taken. And as I write this down, I realise that if that is so, I should also know that people in general are flawed, like me, and prefer the journey while the destination is unknown. I on the other hand, am comfortable where I am because I know the destination and the journey are all a part of drama any way.

Circles

I got into this thinking mood – well, when I have never been in a thinking mood – but let’s just say I got into one that made me want to write this down. I met a friend after ages. We had a falling apart and then he returned and I talked to him again and whenever he wishes to meet me, we do. I am not one to call people and ask them to meet me… unless I really feel lonely or I want to celebrate with them an occasion. So he came over and we got to chatting about our lives.

He talked about how my world view has altered and it has, I’ll be the first one to admit it, but I don’t think I have changed except for the fact that I have understood things better. I may still want the same things but I know now they either come with a price or a compromise. I have learnt that people are flawed and it is their flaws which make them who they are. Flaws can be relative too. I may have a flaw which others may think of as a virtue. Now I am not calling myself virtuous, in fact, if there was one thing that I believe is all subjective is virtue.

Now that being said, I had a heart to heart about a lot of things and I realized in our conversation that I have no patience for unilateral thought. I want to associate myself with people who have minds and who are willing to look at the world from another point of view. I have always been proud of the fact that I can do this. The moment someone is talking to me about a particular situation or person, I tend to look at the other perspective. I am the classic Devil’s advocate.

This tends to either irritate or broaden the mind I am conversing with. If the other person cannot seem to gauge what I am trying to convey, I pull back. I don’t malinger with my point of view because I have realized that I cannot have a conversation. It will be a monologue. Once that has been gauged, I am afraid I lose hope. In that moment in time, I withdraw and I make my own judgements (which I am aware of, but I am human, too) and I make a mental note to either avoid the person, or the topic of conversation – if the person cannot be avoided.

Fight or flee, they taught me in college. Well, I tend to do both. But with people I fight with, they need to be doubly aware that I do not fight with all and sundry. Fleeing is way better option with people I know don’t really matter in the larger scheme of things. Flight has helped me many a time, in fact, I envy Superman for this reason more than any other. I fight or rather, lay down my point of view, only when I know it is necessary for the person I am giving it to, understand, because I would like that person to be a part of my life and by that demarcation, have an understanding of me. I would have said an appreciation of me, but that would be pushing the buck.

Over time I have also come to realise – and which this conversation I had tonight with my long-lost friend – is that I used to want to be appreciated. I wanted people to like me. I used to go out of my way to be more than who I was – and with all modesty, I can say that that is quite a lot. People came and people left with alarming population. My home became a thouroughfare for almost a decade.

Through the age of 24 to the age of 34 – give a take maybe a year or two here and there – I met with thousands of people. After my mom went through cancer treatments, and after I lost my daughter, Zoe, I came to the healthy realization that all who come into my life were not meant to stay. They came into my life, played their part and then they left. There were a few, a number that I can say still accounts for a large one to most recluses around the world, who chose to stay in my life because of who I am and what I brought to their lives and minds.

I was just saying how I used to think that the world was my oyster. Through school and early college, I was landlocked. The bell was tolling for me, because I was insecure, self-conscious, horribly shy and crucially aware of my homosexuality. I wore all these things on my sleeve and I was tossed about – literally – even by my own father. But I came into my own, in my final years of college and yet, I couldn’t perceive that the world came to me because I was still accepting it on its own terms.

I believed what it told me. I read books and chose to live how the characters lived. I watched Julia Roberts in movies, and thought that somewhere there will be a millionaire who would climb up a fire escape for me, too. Of course, there was no millionaire, or anyone who made love to me on a piano, but I did have relationships with lovely men. The realization that I didn’t have to find Richard Gere, but become Julia, came much later in life. Even later, came the dawning that Harpreet could be Harpreet and still get someone to climb a fire escape for him – and for that matter, even if no one climbed up the damned stairs, Harpreet could climb down himself and get into that limo.

There are these concentric circles of our lives. The innermost circle has the ones I can turn to when I need love and help. There is a circle beyond that, and another, with people thriving in them, closest friends, closer friends, close friends, friends, acquaintances – all coming and going. People choose to move inward or they can choose to move outward. I don’t barricade this, I have let things remain fluid. It needs to have a life of its own. But I do know the innermost circle is unfailing in its boundary.