Brian Falduto celebrates Pride in this letter to his beloved ‘School of Rock’ character
Brian Falduto gained fame playing the role of Billy “Fancy Pants” in the 2003 cult comedy film School of Rock. It was the role of a lifetime that connected the child actor with fourteen other tween rockers who all remain like family to him today.However, the intense focus on the effeminate mannerisms he displayed as the opinionated student who becomes the band’s stylist would have a major impact on Brian’s coming to terms with his sexuality as a teen and young adult.“Mine is a story of what happens when society attaches a label on something they don’t understand in order to avoid their own discomfort,” Brian reflects.Now a country music singer with a brand-new album out this month, Gay Country (Deluxe Edition), Brian travels the country performing his songs and speaking at Pride events, vulnerably sharing himself and offering hope to people in the early stages of their coming out.This Pride, Brian sat down and wrote a letter to his beloved film character.Images by Mia Isabella, stylist Brendan McCannDear Billy,I can’t believe it’s been 20 years since you told Jack Black that he’s tacky and you hate him. You really weren’t afraid to stick it to the man!There was a lot you weren’t afraid of, come to think of it: namely, what other people thought of you. You didn’t care that it wasn’t cool for a boy to be into fashion or stan Liza Minelli. (“Stan”, by the way, is a slang term that started trending a few years ago – it’s after your time!) In fact, you didn’t care about much other than expressing yourself, boldly and unfiltered. You knew who you were and you were your whole self, authentically. I know this because you were me.But truth be told, I wasn’t as ready as you to be myself so boldly and so bravely. So much of what made you fabulous and special was the exact stuff I got ridiculed for daily at home and at school. I was told that if I liked fashion or Broadway or if my voice didn’t deepen, that meant I was gay, and the idea of being gay was really scary back then because I didn’t know anything about it other than that it was a word people used as an insult. I really didn’t want to be who everyone said you were so I tried to change you. I know how much you loved to stand out but I felt I needed you to blend in. I stopped letting you be your whole self authentically and for that, I can’t help but feel a little bit like I let you down. However, I also know that I employed the best survival tactics I could at the time.Even talking about you was difficult for a while. I wanted to completely distance myself from you because I was desperate to be anything more than just “the gay kid from School of Rock.” What was originally an experience that allowed me to feel unique and talented became something I was ashamed of. People would ask me, “Are you really like that or were you acting?”I began to think the only way I could prove myself as something other than you was to be in another movie and demonstrate that I was a legitimate actor. I put so much pressure on you to succeed in all areas: from class president to salutatorian, from the lead role in the school play to the solo in choir class – I had to make sure everyone liked me. This was challenging because people throw rocks at things that shine and they certainly did that with you.I know you were really lonely at times. You wondered, “If it’s really a sin, why does no one ever talk about homosexuality in church on Sundays or in school during theology class?”While your peers started “I Hate Brian” clubs and cyberbullied you, I pretended like I didn’t know about it even though it was killing you inside. If I could go back in time, I’d tell you the truth. They were jealous of the attention you got for being different and othering you was easier than understanding you because it allowed them to fit in. But you didn’t know that at the time, and sometimes it felt like the only people who could understand you were the fourteen other kids who shared the spotlight with you. You’ll be happy to know they are still like family to me.As this next generation of queer youth emerges, I like to think you played a small role in how boldly and fearlessly they express themselves. Back in 2003, it was radical to have a spotlight on you while you swam against a strong current. Even though I ended up getting swept away in that current, your legacy didn’t. I know that because I’ve read all the messages from gay guys who were my age at the time and needed to see you on screen when they were younger. I’m proud of you and what you’ve meant to people.Incidentally, 20 years later, I’m also proud of myself. I’ve put a lot of work into deconstructing the protective walls I put up around you growing up. I’m not always there but I’m getting closer and closer to becoming you again – a bold, unfiltered, fearlessly expressive, and authentic version of myself. Thanks for being someone that I and so many others can look up to.On screen, you asked if you could be the band’s stylist but off screen, I kno
Brian Falduto gained fame playing the role of Billy “Fancy Pants” in the 2003 cult comedy film School of Rock. It was the role of a lifetime that connected the child actor with fourteen other tween rockers who all remain like family to him today.
However, the intense focus on the effeminate mannerisms he displayed as the opinionated student who becomes the band’s stylist would have a major impact on Brian’s coming to terms with his sexuality as a teen and young adult.
“Mine is a story of what happens when society attaches a label on something they don’t understand in order to avoid their own discomfort,” Brian reflects.
Now a country music singer with a brand-new album out this month, Gay Country (Deluxe Edition), Brian travels the country performing his songs and speaking at Pride events, vulnerably sharing himself and offering hope to people in the early stages of their coming out.
This Pride, Brian sat down and wrote a letter to his beloved film character.
Images by Mia Isabella, stylist Brendan McCann
Dear Billy,
I can’t believe it’s been 20 years since you told Jack Black that he’s tacky and you hate him. You really weren’t afraid to stick it to the man!
There was a lot you weren’t afraid of, come to think of it: namely, what other people thought of you. You didn’t care that it wasn’t cool for a boy to be into fashion or stan Liza Minelli. (“Stan”, by the way, is a slang term that started trending a few years ago – it’s after your time!) In fact, you didn’t care about much other than expressing yourself, boldly and unfiltered. You knew who you were and you were your whole self, authentically. I know this because you were me.
But truth be told, I wasn’t as ready as you to be myself so boldly and so bravely. So much of what made you fabulous and special was the exact stuff I got ridiculed for daily at home and at school. I was told that if I liked fashion or Broadway or if my voice didn’t deepen, that meant I was gay, and the idea of being gay was really scary back then because I didn’t know anything about it other than that it was a word people used as an insult. I really didn’t want to be who everyone said you were so I tried to change you. I know how much you loved to stand out but I felt I needed you to blend in. I stopped letting you be your whole self authentically and for that, I can’t help but feel a little bit like I let you down. However, I also know that I employed the best survival tactics I could at the time.
Even talking about you was difficult for a while. I wanted to completely distance myself from you because I was desperate to be anything more than just “the gay kid from School of Rock.” What was originally an experience that allowed me to feel unique and talented became something I was ashamed of. People would ask me, “Are you really like that or were you acting?”
I began to think the only way I could prove myself as something other than you was to be in another movie and demonstrate that I was a legitimate actor. I put so much pressure on you to succeed in all areas: from class president to salutatorian, from the lead role in the school play to the solo in choir class – I had to make sure everyone liked me. This was challenging because people throw rocks at things that shine and they certainly did that with you.
I know you were really lonely at times. You wondered, “If it’s really a sin, why does no one ever talk about homosexuality in church on Sundays or in school during theology class?”
While your peers started “I Hate Brian” clubs and cyberbullied you, I pretended like I didn’t know about it even though it was killing you inside. If I could go back in time, I’d tell you the truth. They were jealous of the attention you got for being different and othering you was easier than understanding you because it allowed them to fit in. But you didn’t know that at the time, and sometimes it felt like the only people who could understand you were the fourteen other kids who shared the spotlight with you. You’ll be happy to know they are still like family to me.
As this next generation of queer youth emerges, I like to think you played a small role in how boldly and fearlessly they express themselves. Back in 2003, it was radical to have a spotlight on you while you swam against a strong current. Even though I ended up getting swept away in that current, your legacy didn’t. I know that because I’ve read all the messages from gay guys who were my age at the time and needed to see you on screen when they were younger. I’m proud of you and what you’ve meant to people.
Incidentally, 20 years later, I’m also proud of myself. I’ve put a lot of work into deconstructing the protective walls I put up around you growing up. I’m not always there but I’m getting closer and closer to becoming you again – a bold, unfiltered, fearlessly expressive, and authentic version of myself. Thanks for being someone that I and so many others can look up to.
On screen, you asked if you could be the band’s stylist but off screen, I know you had big dreams of being a performer. I’m working hard to make those dreams come true because to this day I can still hear you asking, “Can I be a country music artist instead?”
And to that I say, “Of course you can, Fancy Pants.”
Love,
Brian
Brian Falduto’s Gay Country (Deluxe Edition) releases to Spotify and all streaming platforms on June 7. You can learn more at BrianFalduto.com.
Follow Brian Falduto on Facebook, Instagram, X and TikTok @BrianFalduto
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