Month: January 2022

The Freedom Convoy

crimson

About a week ago, my sister had her birthday. I called her, as a brother ought to do, to wish her well. She’s been having a rough go of it. She is depressed. And she is angry. But the precise nature of her anger was not immediately clear to me.

She had asked me about the latest Matrix film, and what I thought about it. I didn’t get much opportunity to express my feelings when she entered into a strange rant. She expressed great concern regarding the film, and how the creator was projecting their trans culture stereotypes upon the audience (these are her words, not mine). I asked her whether she’d seen the film (because before her rant, she suggested she had not), and she confirmed for me that she had not seen the film. My confusion began here.

I could not understand how she could have developed such a passionate, and critical, view without having seen the film. She indicated to me that she had read the reviews, and apparently that was enough for her to hold her incredibly scathing viewpoint. Having seen the film myself, I tried to argue that the film (at least from my viewpoint) was nothing of the sort. She refused to listen, moving the conversation elsewhere.

She started talking about how mass media was entirely untrustworthy. My viewpoint is complex in this regard, though I might sum it up by suggesting that all mass media needs to be taken with a grain of salt. That is, I believe that all mass media is biased and selectively presented, and so one ought to be critical in assessing anything presented before adopting the information into their world view. Not outright dismissal or rejection. Instead, I think one ought to think about it a bit before simply accepting what is presented. My sister’s perspective seemed to be strongly in favor of outright dismissal and contempt.

It was a difficult conversation. It was her birthday, and I wanted to be giving and compassionate and let her have her moment. But the whole conversation was steeped deeply in controversy, bigotry, and hate. While my sister has never been an angel, this was far more extreme than I had ever heard her talk.

She and my friends told me about a convoy travelling across Canada, from Alberta to Ontario. The convoy was a protest against vaccine mandates for truckers crossing the US/Canada border. Unfortunately, the convoy’s protesting mandate seemed to change significantly during the course of their journey.

Of interest to me, and to this post, were many of the expressed opinions of the participants of the convoy. Many seemed to be talking much as my sister had been talking. They expressed a hatred of mass media channels, becoming openly hostile to the news agents who were themselves simply recording these people for the media outlets. There were even a few individuals who suggested they hoped the convoy protest would result in something similar to the January 6 insurrection in the United States a year ago. So far, this has not been the case, but there is certainly still time for such things to develop if the will is there.

I’m not going to go into great detail regarding the convoy or its protest, nor much more into my sister’s ranting, but I think it is important to notice that this is happening at all. People are clearly tired of the pandemic, and they have become agitated. They seem to be looking for someone or something to blame for the various concerns they have, and without a clear target, they have started selecting targets they probably already felt rather strongly about at the outset.

The concern I wish to express here is that for all these people, their expressions are all outward facing. Their hate and vitriol is directed outside themselves toward whatever they can find outside themselves. Knowing my sister as well as I do, this has been a common trend in her life for as long as I can remember. I also know about this issue rather well, as it was my own viewpoint for a long time in my own youth.

I am reminded of a friend of mine who’s entire family has a strange relationship with luck. They are all very lucky people, constantly encountering situations of good fortune seemingly regularly. I spent years trying to understand what it was and how it worked. And after decades, I believed I had cracked that particular mystery. As it turned out, it related back to things my father had said to me in my youth.

My father taught me fear. He taught me to fear the world around me, and to make a concerted effort to avoid risk at all costs. I was paralyzed from travelling outside my home town for the longest time. Leaving the country wasn’t even a thought for me. When I dated a woman who really wanted me to travel with her, I had no idea what to do.

I did eventually learn to travel. My current partner has been instrumental in this regard. However, it is why I refused for so long that was the interesting part. And this is where understanding luck came in. Luck, for me, is about controlling one’s situation (thinking about Simone de Beauvoir’s understanding of situation). As a human, I don’t have a lot that I can control of this world, but what little I can control, I use to manage my risk through my circumstances.

Following from my father, I can control risk in my life by avoiding putting myself into situations that increase the probability of something bad happening. Like avoiding the “bad part of town.” The problem I encountered as a result of this was that I started avoiding everything. While this succeeded in reducing my risk of getting into trouble, it also had the side effect of reducing the opportunities for happiness. I was leading a rather boring and sad life up to that point.

This is about me. This is about me making choices and being accountable to myself for those choices. I may not control a lot in this world, but there are a few things I can control. I can control my body, and how I move my limbs. I can control where I walk to or drive to, choosing what locations I will be on this planet. I can control the words that come out of my mouth when I speak, and I can control the tone of my own voice at the same time. I can control the expressions of my face and my body. These are just some of the things within my control, and if it is not clear, just these things can have a very, very significant impact on the sort of world I live in and the life I will have.

What I have learned over the years is that I am personally responsible for far more than I might have originally believed. I contribute to the nature of this world. I decide, through my choices, how this world will be. In a fashion similar to how I can vote a particular government into power in a democracy. I am a part of this world. And I also choose how I will react to the world as time passes. I can decide if a particular event should be seen as positive (being optimistic) or as negative (being pessimistic).

When I started taking responsibility for my choices and actions in the world, my world improved. A lot. Much more than I had thought initially it would. There is a reason I finally finished a degree at a university, and why I now have the most amazing partner anyone could ever wish for. Why my life has improved so much from when I was young, despite the challenges I faced in my youth. It has been me. It has always been me.

My sister, unfortunately, is stuck in a rut (again, her own words). It is a rut of her own making. Through the choices and decisions she herself has made over the years, she has created an incredibly deep and treacherous groove that each passing year becomes that much harder to leave. She is angry because of events from her past, from her youth. I admit, I am not her, so I cannot speak to the level of severity of those events. I’m sure many were exceedingly traumatic. All I can say is that I have had my own traumatic events (including having been raped).

The point is not to dwell on those past events. Yes, they certainly shape us. I would not be who I am were it not for all those past events. Especially the traumatic ones. But I was also able to eventually claw my way out of my own rut. It took a while (years), but I eventually found my way out. And I have to keep myself out, because I find myself digging new ruts all the time as well. It isn’t easy. Struggle and sacrifice are not easy. But they really can’t be easy either.

Life is about effort. The more effort I put into it, the more I get out of it. This is what I’ve learned. This is how I try to approach everything. When I watch a film, like The Matrix Resurrections, I don’t expect the film to take care of me; I enter into it with the expectation that I’m going to have to put in some effort to get something out of it. And I did get something out of that film. It was not a waste of time. I do not feel like the creators were projecting some insidious agenda upon me. I see the commentary, but I see it simply as commentary alongside so much other commentary. The film is much larger than simply that.

The pandemic has been challenging for everyone. Each of us having to deal with it in our own unique ways. Admittedly, I think that anyone who was challenged in life before the beginning of this pandemic is finding their challenges have risen exponentially. If they were living paycheck to paycheck before, now they are on the brink of bankruptcy. But there is the other side that many seem to have dismissed as well. There are those who were fine before, and are doing even better now. How else did we end up with a space race between billionaires?

I am watching what I can about this “freedom convoy” to see what happens and what it is all about. I agree with a number of people that this event might possibly be significant to history, but I’m more inclined to think it is significant as a gauge of how people are doing at this point in the pandemic. It seems to me that, like my sister, the participants are a group of disenchanted individuals who believe they are also disenfranchised. Individuals who seem to be looking outwardly in order to direct their frustrations and anger. Individuals who cannot see the terrible damage they have already wrought simply driving their gas guzzling vehicles thousands of kilometres to make some sort of point. As my partner has already inquired to me, “don’t they have jobs and responsibilities back home?”

It is my belief that for a lot of people in this world, they need to look inward rather than outward to find the solutions to their various problems. Not that they cannot use help in rectifying their various situations, as we can always all use some help. But an awareness of ourselves and our choices, and how those choices affect our world, would be a good first step toward ending many of our challenges.

I am responsible for my situation. In making better choices for myself, I can adjust the risks in my life and make luck for myself. I would not suggest I ought to reduce risks entirely, but adjust them appropriately in order to continue to offer myself opportunities for happiness and growth. This is the heart of luck, as I see it. To put myself into the right places at the right times. To be open and available to those opportunities.

I am always left with the same question at the end of these sorts of reflections: how do I share my insights with others? Or more generally: how do you make someone understand something they cannot understand? Somehow, through my life’s experiences I figured all this out. And I can tell you about it, as much as I want. But I cannot make you understand. I cannot make you see what I can now see. And, most importantly, I cannot make you want to see at all. As my mother said to me in my youth, “you cannot make anyone do anything.”

That is what this blog is all about. Aside from being a conduit for myself to express my thoughts and ideas, this blog is my attempt at performing that ridiculous function. To somehow make people understand things they don’t understand. But this blog also cannot make anyone want to understand. For that, somehow, people simply have to come here and read, and want to understand. And you, dear reader, I hope are such a person.

I want to write a story

crimson

Today’s post is a casual post. Not so serious.

I want to write a story. A work of fiction. Like a novel, or perhaps simply a short story. I want it to be entertaining and engaging, while at the same time present a fundamental idea that I often tackle. But I just cannot come up with anything solid. Sometimes I think I have something, but the something often sifts through my fingers as I hold onto it, like trying to carry sand in one’s hands.

The Matrix films and story, among all the things that they are, are ultimately a re-imagining of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. The Wachowskis were clearly influenced by many source materials, but seemed to have started with Plato as their foundation. They seemed to have modernized the story, to fit with our modern technologies and modern cultures. Of course, they didn’t stop with that, and introduced many, many other elements. So much so that we ended up with several very entertaining and engaging films. I would like to do something like that.

To be clear, I don’t want to make another Matrix story. I don’t want to use Plato’s allegory as my foundation. And I certainly do not want to end up with a story that sounds like it is in any way related. However, one of the problems I face is that many of my ideas end up orbiting the Matrix story. Perhaps because it clearly has had a great influence on me. Perhaps because the Matrix story delves into so many ideas that it might be inevitable that my ideas will in some way overlap eventually. It almost seems like a fools errand. But I continue to try.

Marilyn Frye, in “To Be And Be Seen: The Politics Of Reality,” uses the analogy of actors and stagehands performing a “dramatic production on a stage” (like a play perhaps) to help her describe the situation of men and women. I think her analogy is spot on, and I’ve even felt that the analogy makes sense in many other situations. I often make my income in the Information Technology (IT) sector, and I feel like a stagehand in those situations, where if I am doing my job properly, no one knows I was ever there. The good IT professional is invisible. If you ever do see the IT professional, or notice what they are doing, then something has gone horribly wrong.

I wouldn’t need to modernize her analogy, nor would I want to diminish its commentary regarding gender inequity. Would it be possible for me to take this as a foundation and build it up into an entertaining and engaging work of fiction to subtly convey this very important idea across to many, many people? I’m not so sure, but I would certainly like to try.

The Matrix story is not the only story of its kind. It is not the first time someone took an older story and built it up into something else. And in many of those cases, the newer story was entertaining and engaging and many people enjoyed the new story, often never knowing the original source(s). There are still many people who are unfamiliar with Plato’s Allegory of The Cave, and yet are intimately familiar with The Matrix. One of the hopeful things about the situation is that the point Plato seemed to be trying to convey is captured (for the most part) by The Matrix. In this way, I consider it to be quite successful.

I guess I just need to keep plugging away at it. Perhaps I simply need to hold my hands a bit tighter, so the sand doesn’t slip through so much. But perhaps more importantly, I need to keep grabbing more sand, to replenish that which has slipped away. I think I just need to keep writing and talking and thinking, and eventually it will come together. I need to not give up.

Fantasy Versus Reality

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The other day, I ended up in a dispute with my partner over investment reporting. We have some money invested and when we receive the reports periodically, they may or may not provide information to us about what percent increase (or decrease) has occurred since our initial investment. Our dispute was related to both the availability of such information, as well as its accuracy. She believes the information should always be provided by the agent, and that that information is simple and reliable when presented. I believe the agent ought to offer it, but I recognize the complexity of such information and so I prefer to figure it out for myself.

It is not my intention in this post to go into the finer details and mathematics of calculating this sort of information. What I would like to focus on is the nature of what information the agent would provide. In particular, is such information real (and accurate and reliable) or merely fantasy (as in speculative and largely biased).

When I was younger, I heard someone say, “80 percent of all statistics are made up.” If you didn’t catch it immediately, this is a joke. The idea is that the statement itself is “made up,” and as such, the statistic it is purporting is also “made up.” The statement, ultimately, is entirely useless as it does not actually tell us anything useful. It is merely a joke.

However, there is some truth in this joke. Statistics is the area of mathematics concerned with taking data and analyzing that data to formulate potentially useful conclusions about it. In other words, one takes a large (often very large) pile of information (such as numbers), and they run through the data looking for various common things or different things. One can, for example, find the average of a group of numbers, which will tell them (very approximately) a sort of midpoint in the data set. Other popular midpoint finders include median and mode.

Here is a simple example:

Data Set: 5, 4, 3, 7, 6

Average: 5

In this case, 5 is clearly and easily the midpoint. All the numbers are relatively close in magnitude to 5 (within 2 in the most extreme case). Thus, the average seems to provide something useful in description of the data.

The reason there are many different methods utilized to find the midpoint is that depending on the nature of the data set itself, weird things can happen in the analysis. If within the set of numbers, there is one number that is significantly different, then the average may be pulled far in some direction, providing strange results. Here is another example:

Data Set: 5, 4, 3, 7, 6, 125

Average: 25

In this case, 25 is much less useful as the midpoint. Most of the data is hovering around 5, as demonstrated in the previous example. The single outlier has taken the average and pulled it violently away. The number 25 isn’t very helpful in describing the data anymore, though the result itself is technically accurately describing the average of the data.

Again, it is not my intent to dive into extensive mathematical proofs. But I hope that the simple examples make my point clear. It doesn’t take much to significantly change the results of a data analysis and provide vastly different results. All I did above was add a single new number to the data, and the average changed drastically.

This also leads to the main problem with statistics that most don’t think to consider: why did I choose to use average as my preferred method of analysis, as opposed to median, mode, or something else entirely? As the one performing the analysis, I necessarily have to select my tools and methods to perform my analysis. Which tools I decide to use affect the results, as does what part of the data I decide to utilize.

Selection of what part or parts of the data I will use is also a significant factor to consider. In the second example, clearly the value 125 is very unlike the other values and is having a significant affect on my result. I could simply remove the outlier, claiming it is an outlier and not representative of the rest of the data and then proceed with my analysis (which will result in it appearing the same as the first example). This sort of decision is not uncommon in statistics or science.

In both cases, the decision regarding which tools I utilize and the decision regarding which data I include, I have fulfilled the requirements of statistical analysis. I may be asked to provide good reasons for my choices, but the making of those choices is mine to make. Furthermore, this also places the responsibility upon others to question my choices. If no one questions or challenges my choices, then my results will stand very nicely.

In the argument with my partner, my point was that if the agent will provide us with a rating of the interest our investments accumulated, I would ask for details regarding how that number was attained. Unfortunately, this is not usually made very clear by agents. Often, when I have raised this question, I get pages of statistical analysis that by itself is challenging and time consuming to sort through. I sometimes wonder if they are simply trying to confuse me with large information, in the same way as one confuses by using big words when they talk. Makes them sound more intelligent than they may actually be.

I would also relate this to my anxiety when I observe companies “graciously” offering to shop around on my behalf, ensuring that I get the “lowest price” on an item. Why do those companies compare against the specific other companies that they choose to compare themselves against? Like a commercial which says their product beats the leading brand, and then you see in the fine print that the “leading brand” is simply their own lesser product. By making crafty choices, the companies are rigging the game in their own favor. As a crafty consumer, it is up to me to raise the questions back to them to tease out something of the truth.

Which brings me to the point I was wanting to raise at the beginning. Statistical analysis is a form of fiction. It looks a lot like the truth, but certainly bears some difference. How much difference is highly dependent on the choices made by those performing the analysis. The choices themselves are not objective, they are subjective, forming the foundation of the fiction being generated. They are a form of fantasy.

But most fantasy does have some relationship with the real. The centaur is a mythical creature based on the ideas of a horse and a man merged. Horses and men are real things. In the same way, the results of statistical analysis is a fantasy based on a real thing as well (based of the very real data that has been analyzed). It can sometimes be difficult to remember this fact.

This too, I think, is the source of many simulacra. Science and statistics both provide innumerable examples of these sorts of fictions, which become the basis of other fictions, and so on. If it is forgotten the original source of these things, then they simply become symbols of symbols of symbols…

It is certainly unreasonable for any person to keep track of every single fact in existence. I have to depend on the amalgamated “facts” that come from science and statistics, and other places. I myself have not performed the calculations required to predict the weather, but I still listen to the weatherperson, and I still do plan my day around what they say. In that way, I am adopting a fiction into my list of “facts.” I am accepting a fantasy as part of my reality.

But I try to always remember where my data is coming from. To acknowledge and appreciate that there are likely errors (sometimes significant ones) in my “facts.” To be wary that sometimes those errors have been placed there intentionally by various parties with a vested interest in affecting my choices and decisions. To always be aware that my world is heavily mediated, and that almost everything I know is, in truth, simply a variation of fantasy. As Immanuel Kant suggested in his Critique of Pure Reason, I have no direct connection to the real world.

The Matrix Resurrections and Being Trans

crimson

Yesterday, I was a fool…

It takes time to understand a Matrix film. All of them do. To be perfectly honest, I still uncover and discover things about the original films today. It has been 22 years since the first film was released and I am still discovering things. This is what makes a Matrix film a Matrix film. Reflection and revelation.

No, I’m not trans. This is not me coming out. But in some sense, I am trans as well. What I just realized is what it means to be trans. What it means to affirm your own identity. To claim yourself, despite what the world and others wish you to be. It is about making a choice that really isn’t a choice at all.

My journey has been a long one, and it is by no means over. I expect I will still uncover and discover things about all of the Matrix films 20 years from now. More hidden meanings and hidden messages. Though, the irony is that none of these messages or meanings are hidden at all. They never were. That is what makes these films so brilliant and yet so heartbreaking.

In virtually every human culture, once we are born, we are told who and what we are. On some level, this is necessary. Baby humans cannot survive on their own and require assistance. In most cases, it is their parents who provide that assistance, at least over the first five or so years. Others are often involved as well, such as doctors and other family members. At five (or so, at least in my culture) you are thrust into the system in an official way: you go to school. Kindergarten or maybe Grade 1. You are taught all the things you need to know in order to eventually become a “productive member of society.” You are taught how to properly be who and what you are, as indicated and supported by your birth.

The first 20 years of your life are devastating. I believe this is true for everyone. Whatever you may think or feel must be shaped during this time, and so at any time you try to think or feel things that you are not supposed to think or feel, you are disciplined. You are corrected. You are not supposed to think those things, or feel in those ways. The discipline can be hard. The discipline is often violent. But it needs to be. Otherwise, you might start to think that being yourself is acceptable, and this can put you in serious jeopardy.

Discipline comes from everywhere. Not just your parents. Not just the teachers in school. It comes from your peers as well. The other children that are in the same situation you are in. You learn that if you support the system and help correct others, you are usually rewarded. They say that the best way to learn is to teach.

You are lucky though as well. Before you are declared an adult if you make missteps, the discipline, as hard as it is, is still light in comparison to what it will be as an adult. Becoming an adult changes the game entirely. As an adult, the same missteps can get you killed, quite literally. And some missteps are so severe, you don’t even need to be an adult.

This is the path all humans take. We are told we have free will, but we are never given an opportunity to express it. We are told that once you become an adult, you will get to express it, but by that time it is already far too late. You’ve been indoctrinated into the system. Your identity well established. Who and what you are, as decided at birth, are instinctually programmed. You can not make a free choice, even if you wanted to.

This is a pretty lofty claim. Many who read what I have written will likely find fault with it in some way. The easiest attack is the claim “all humans.” After all, there must certainly be exceptions. I have yet to see one. And in the 46 years of my life that I’ve had to ponder this, I have found no way out. Because I have pondered this all my life. At least as far back as the time I asked my mother where “man” came from. (I am told I asked this question before I was 4.)

The trans situation is the same as this; only there is a focus on particulars. The who and what in this case are sex and gender. Are you a boy or a girl? Will you grow up to be a man or a woman? It is this declaration at birth that decides the path of your conditioning. Are you blue or pink? Do you get a truck or a doll? Do you take Industrial Arts or Home Economics? Which washroom do you enter?

The question I asked during my training was why? Why do I have to have a preferred colour? A preferred toy? A preferred vocation? Should these things not be something I can decide for myself? Exercising my free will? I was told that I was allowed to express myself, but if I chose incorrectly, I was corrected.

I’ve mentioned the beer issue in previous posts, but I think this is the right place to raise it again. I don’t like beer. This is my free will expressing itself. But once I came of age, as I was declared a boy at birth, my dislike of beer was challenged over and over again. Men drink beer, after all. It is a manly thing to do. My friends, my peers, who were sympathetic, made attempts to correct me. One even told me that, “no one likes beer, we all just get used to it.” Is this not precisely the point I’m trying to make?

The part of trans culture that I generally disagree with is that I see people dismissing one side for another. I am not a boy, I’m a girl. I don’t exhibit the traits and features of one category, I exhibit the traits and features of the other. It is the established and confirmed categories that I detest. During my upbringing, I was essentially offered a choice between two pots to pick from. No other options lay before me. Do you like blue? Do you like pink? What if I want to say green?

I know about non-binary. I know about both and neither. And if I were trans, that is where I’d stand. But I detest those categories. I see the depth of their artificiality. I see the depth of their insidiousness. I see how their influence taints the very fabric of our reality. It is why I was so moved when reading “In and Out of Harm’s Way” by Marilyn Frye. The idea of the Arrogant Eye. The idea of oppression.

The largest issue I face with all of this, the point I’ve made in previous posts, is that if I don’t like this system of categories, I ought to offer an alternative. I don’t have one. Or, my suggestion is that there be none. No men. No women. Just people. Just humans. But then I’d also have to establish what sort of training all babies are supposed to get. I’d have to pick and choose the correct colour and toy and vocation. At least, that is what I’m led to believe.

Maybe that too is the point. Maybe the establishment of colour and toy and vocation is itself also part of the problem. The system of conditioning. The training. Maybe it all has to go. But then how would those young humans learn to exist in the world?

We circle back and start to eat our tail at this point. What does the world look like presently? What sorts of skills and abilities work best in this world? What sort of training would be best to offer a young human in order to afford them the greatest success in this modern world? Clearly, the training of boys and girls is most suited to this environment. This is a world of men and women, after all. Even if it is not desirable, this is the world as it stands presently.

An appeal to tradition. We are as we are because we were. Change is slow. Slower the more humans get involved. And there are 7.7 billion humans right now (according to Google). That’s a lot of people. Change is going to be so very slow.

The latest Matrix film has been a roller coaster for me. First fighting for room. I had to defend my position that I didn’t dislike the film. It’s strange to me to have to defend such a position. “How can you not hate this film,” people would scream at me. “This film is a steaming dumpster fire!” Simply not agreeing with them seemed to suggest I was in serious need of discipline. Like when I was younger.

But I did what I always do. I tried to be patient. I talked to people. Especially people who I didn’t agree with. I learned long ago that it is those you don’t agree with that will offer the greatest insights. Even though many of those people seemed to want to crucify me, I knew they could offer me answers that those who agreed with me could not. So I persevered.

I told everyone I would take a break. After about two weeks of going to war each day, I said I’d gotten as much as I could, and I needed time to digest. I think we all did. Time for those who haven’t seen the film an opportunity to see the film. And for those who had, time to think about what they saw. To reflect.

It didn’t take very long. The film was released only 18 days ago. It only took 18 days of discussion and reflection for me to get here. Enough time to realize what this film is. Enough time to now say that this film may be the best of the series. Greater even than the first.

Please do not misunderstand. I fully expect to continue learning and evolving over time. I expect to continue to uncover and discover things related to this film for years to come. But in this moment, I think I understand. I think I understand enough to say, I like this film. Enough to say, this film is amazing.

This film, among all the other things that it is, is a trans story. It is a brief glimpse into the process I described above. It is about how we are told who and what we are, despite anything we may feel inside. The film engages directly with this. So much so that it can be uncomfortable to watch.

But don’t look away because you are uncomfortable. Keep looking. Keep watching. You are supposed to feel uncomfortable. Because it is uncomfortable to be told who and what you are, especially when you feel something else entirely. If the film punches you in the face, it isn’t random and it isn’t with malicious intent. It is with love. It is there to help you. Change hurts. Change is incredibly painful. This film knows this.

Why this film is brilliant is that unlike so many other films (including its predecessors), this film is not afraid. This film isn’t subtle. This film is there getting in your face. Invading your space. Forcing you to deal with everything. Calling you to action. Working you into a frenzy.

This is why there are so many people expressing hatred. This is why those same people cannot help but try to discipline and shame me. The film insults them. The film offends them. The film challenges their very being. There should be absolutely no surprise that some people would have these reactions.

In the last review I watched, just before writing this post, the commentator described this film as beautiful. I agree with him. Like me, he is not trans either. But he did his research, and he watched the film with a Loving Eye. He was patient. He reflected. And I think he is right.