Here’s a review of the lovely, sapphic little gem “A Bird Hit My Window and Now I’m a Lesbian”, released on YouTube earlier this month.
Storytelling
A Bird Hit My Window and Now I’m a Lesbian is a short animated film directed and produced by AJ Dubler and Carmela Murphy—creators who share a deep passion for telling stories that blend humour with vulnerability, inclusivity, and intentionality, especially while centering queer and trans communities.
At its heart, the film explores rejection, grief, and the difficult process of letting go—particularly the lingering pull of male validation. These themes are told through the perspectives of women and non-binary folks who identify as lesbian, making the emotional journey feel both specific and deeply relatable.
Design & Visual Language
Crafted using stop-motion animation with puppets named Gray, Fion, and Alex, the film’s visual style adds a distinctive charm and emotional depth. The handcrafted aesthetic creates a whimsical yet intimate atmosphere, where every frame feels personal and intentional.
The visuals are soft, richly textured, and quietly expressive—enhancing the vulnerability of the story and reinforcing the sense that this is a project made with genuine love, care, and artistry.
Takeaway
The film opens with Gray reading a letter from her ex, Alex, who rejects her coming out as a lesbian. As she smokes while reading, we’re given an early glimpse into how she copes—still caught in the aftershocks of the male gaze and its hold on her self-worth.
The narrative truly begins when a bird crashes into her window, leading to an unexpected meeting with Fion. What follows—an impromptu bird funeral—becomes the unlikely catalyst for tender, sapphic moments. The connection that unfolds between Gray and Fion is gentle, awkward, and deeply captivating.
I was hooked till the very end.
The film leaves you sitting quietly with your thoughts, asking difficult but necessary questions:
Why does male validation hold so much power?
How do we let go of authoritative voices from the past that continue to echo in our minds?
And, perhaps most importantly—what does acceptance truly look like when it comes from within?
This is a film that lingers, softly and honestly, long after the screen fades to black.
