What’s Unsaid in “Dandelion”
It’s not until the very end of the short film “Dandelion” (2025), directed by Fiona Obertinca, that viewers see a title card explaining the real historical events that inspired it: “In the 1970s, organizations like Youth Advocates used radical underground efforts to improve the lives of abandoned queer youth, working with the local government to place them in queer homes throughout the U.S.” The short film, set in 1972 Los Angeles, follows a queer teenager Margaret (Ava Lalezarzadeh) after she gets kicked out of a nunnery and refuses to cooperate with Youth Advocates volunteer Joyce (Vic Michaelis), who is trying to find her a new foster home before morning.
Despite being centered around the queer community, “Dandelion” does not explicitly name it until the final screen. Joyce consistently skirts around language for the LGBTQ+ community, using phrases like “we run in similar circles,” “my entire network,” and “my people.” When Margaret asks probing questions about what circles she runs in or what organization she volunteers for, Joyce refuses to specify, answering with silence or “I’m not at liberty to say.” Even in the privacy of her own home, she cannot speak freely: when introducing her partner (who has just kissed her), Joyce hesitates, saying, “This is my uh- Ruth, this is Ruth.” This covertness reflects the widespread stigma and discrimination that LGBTQ+ people faced in the 1970s. However, there is a subtle sense of community within the words she does choose. Even during her first meeting with Margaret, Joyce says “we are fine,” as she shields Margaret from a nun who aggressively pushes her; both her actions and pronoun choice implies she already sees them as being on the same side. “Dandelion” effectively captures the discretion required of LGBTQ+ people in the 1970s, who relied on print media (such as The Empty Closet, a free monthly magazine about LGBTQ+ issues that Joyce has copies of in her car) and queer signaling to express themselves and create community during a time when openness could be dangerous.
The dandelion itself functions as a symbol of resilience—an unwanted weed that transforms and scatters from its original home, yet survives. It appears only once in the film, when Margaret picks at the skin on her finger until it bleeds. Joyce helps her clean the wound and places a bandage with a dandelion pattern on it. At the same time, Joyce tells her, referring to the nuns who mistreated her, “Sometimes it’s easier to point at you instead of at themselves, what they do, what they say. It doesn’t make it right.” In this way, mentorship acts as a kind of bandage for anxiety, represented by Margaret’s skin-picking: an older queer person taking power away from homophobic authority figures and family members who “didn’t want [her].”
What ultimately sets this short film apart from many others in queer cinema is its focus. “Dandelion” is not about romance or coming out but community—about finding one’s place in the world when feeling most alone. Most mainstream gay and lesbian movies (Brokeback Mountain, Carol, Portrait Of A Lady on Fire, Call Me By Your Name, etc.) are centered on one romantic relationship between two people. However, just because a character’s sexual orientation is central to the film doesn’t mean that the film has to be about sex or attraction at all. Even though a nun fears that Margaret is “lusting after the other girls,” lust plays no role in “Dandelion.” In fact, the most poignant moment in the short film is when Margaret walks into Ruth’s home and sees other queer couples there for a Youth Advocates fundraiser—her joy is simply in seeing them and realizing she is not the only queer person in her neighborhood. The film also avoids the familiar “coming out” narrative: Margaret is secure in her identity from the beginning; the conflict stems from being made to feel unwanted because of it.
Although “Dandelion” addresses the serious issue of homelessness among LGBTQ+ youth who are disowned, it uses humor to balance out the fear and sadness that dominate so many queer films. In line with its emphasis on resilience, the film avoids an overly pessimistic portrayal of queerness. Its dialogue is frequently funny, and Margaret and Ruth constantly joke with each other. This comedy is refreshing in a landscape where many queer stories adopt a somber tone and often end in tragedy—sometimes referred to as the “bury your gays” trope. Here, Margaret’s joy in encountering other queer people becomes the emotional centerpiece of the film, and the constant quips prime viewers to relax and feel this joy with her instead of bracing for loss. In the end, Margaret chooses to stay in Ruth’s home, embracing her place within a newfound community instead of leaving on her own—a quietly hopeful conclusion.
Sadie Cho is a senior majoring in English and psychology at Columbia College.