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.