Transgender – Bitch Flicks

“Get Back In Your Kennels, Both of You”: The Bitchy Diversity of ‘The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert’

The traditional family is marked as a hostile space of enforced hypocrisy.

This post by Brigit McCone appears as part of our theme week on Depictions of Trans Women.

Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, is a family on wheels. The bright, pink bus that carries three drag queens across the Australian Outback becomes a homely, domestic space, not because of the harmony between the central trio, but because of their acceptance of friction. In their bickering intimacy, the trio model an ideal of accepting surrogate family, all of whose members are allowed to express themselves fully. Bickering and bitchy humour become the symbol of that freedom of self-expression, as much as the trio’s flamboyant, Oscar-winning costumes. There is no toning down to cater to the offended sensibilities of homophobic or transphobic onlookers. Hugo Weaving’s Tic/Mitzi and Terence Stamp’s trans woman Bernadette play the long-suffering parents to Guy Pearce’s abrasive and bratty Adam/Felicia. In the cramped interior of the bus, there is no escape, only a slow journey toward accommodating each other. The fact that there is never a question of romance between the central trio adds to the family vibe of their camaraderie.

The film also openly acknowledges tensions along the transfeminine spectrum. The tension between Felicia and Mitzi’s feminine personas as theatrical performance, and Bernadette’s feminine identity as an integral part of herself, fuels a running feud between Bernadette and Felicia. Bernadette disdains Felicia’s artificiality as “a bloody good little performer, 24 hours a day, seven days a week,” while Felicia torments Bernadette with her “real” name, Ralph, and teases Tic about his marriage to a woman. In their sexuality and gender expression, the group defies easy categorization and perhaps this is the point. To define is to limit. Each of the trio is a work in progress. While tensions between transfemininity as authentic self-realization and as artificial performance simmer between Bernadette and Felicia, Felicia’s own dualities are neatly summed up by Tic: “There are two things I don’t like about you, Felicia: your face.” This conflict is never neatly resolved with an easy moral, but instead accommodated within the broader philosophy of bitchy diversity and tolerated friction that makes the surrogate family work. In the role of Bernadette, meanwhile, Terence Stamp inaugurated the dubious tradition of big name, cismasculine stars playing trans women as a novelty, a demonstration of acting prowess and a marketing gimmick. Stamp’s performance, however, surely ranks among the finest in this genre: restrained, sensitive and toughened at the same time, with an innate dignity and waspish wit that plays well off Bernadette’s more theatrical companions. Casting a cismasculine performer suits the role of Bernadette particularly, since her difficulty in passing as visually female is a part of her character’s ongoing struggle to be recognized for her authentic self.

The contrast between the Paradise of wish fulfillment and infinite self-realization, represented by the flamboyantly decorated bus and the flamboyantly decorated bodies of its occupants, and the harsh desert landscape with its equally harsh standards of small-town conformity and heteronormativity, is the central conflict of the film. Invited to perform for four weeks in Alice Springs, in the middle of the conservative Outback, Tic finds himself returning to face the wife and son he abandoned. Bernadette, by contrast, is fleeing the tragedy of her lover Trumpet’s death. The manner of his death, asphyxiating on his home peroxide, walks the tight-rope between farce and tragedy that the film so excels at. The bittersweet, clashing tone is established by Hugo Weaving’s opening performance, in full drag: “You’re a discontented mother and a regimented wife… I’ve been to Paradise, but I’ve never been to me.” Butch customers play pool and ignore the performance, while Weaving’s drag alter-ego Mitzi gets a can to the back of the head as she walks offstage. Dressed as brightly throughout as birds of paradise, the friction between Paradise and reality is ever present. The trio stifle in the narrow confines of their wheeled refuge, but the outside is a space of danger. As a forfeit in a game of Snap, Mitzi and Felicia wear full multi-colored drag in rural Australia – being hassled in bars by transphobic patrons is a reminder that the element of daring is never far away from unrestrained self-expression. The trio wake to find their bus spray-painted with the slogan “AIDS fuckers go home!” with Tic admitting that “it’s funny you know. No matter how tough I think I’m getting, it still hurts.”

Transfemininity is a protective badge of defiance and toughness, while its wish fulfillment is as hard-earned in a hostile world as Adam’s dream of climbing the hostile terrain of Australia’s King’s Canyon in full drag. As Adam/Felicia is held down and threatened with violence by a transphobic/homophobic crowd, she breaks down in tears and is told by Bernadette to “let it toughen you up.” Her fellow queens have rescued her when she needed it most, showing the caring and solidarity that underpins their bitchy surfaces. The queens will fulfill their dream to conquer King’s Canyon, ceremonially owning the Outback both by this feat of endurance, and by a flamboyant reinterpretation of Outback nature as drag costumes in their Alice Springs performance. The film itself can be read as a similarly flamboyant reimagining of the traditionally macho genre of the road movie, playfully proposing drag as the ultimate journey to self-realization. Breaking down in the desert and practising their drag performance, they are invited to join an Aboriginal Corroboree. Performing a full drag act for the Aborigines, the possibility of an intersectional solidarity between different categories of outsiders and marginalized minorities is suggested, with the didgeridoo accompanying “I will survive.”

The nuclear family is a space of tension and enforced performance for each of the trio. Adam’s abusive uncle tries to swear him to secrecy, while his mother helps him to get the bus Priscilla in the hopes that a trip to the Outback will help him to overcome the “phase” of his gayness and meet a nice country woman. Bernadette is denied the dolls she really wants by parents who insist that she play with traditionally masculine cement mixers, rejecting her and never speaking to her again after she has “the chop.” The traditional family is marked as a hostile space of enforced hypocrisy. Having internalized this vision of nuclear family, Tic cannot reconcile the flamboyance of alter-ego Mitzi with his own narrow ideas about the butch role of husband and father: “Do you think an old queen’s capable of raising a child?” The bus Priscilla’s bitchy diversity serves as a more authentic space of family, because freedom of expression is its watchword. The outside world’s appearance of tradition and conventionality can be deceptive however, covering hidden depths of flexibility and souls who are “starved for entertainment,” like the rural rescuer-mechanic Bob who loves the transfeminine “Le Girls” revue and whose acceptance of unconventional femininity is modelled in his relationship to his Asian “mail-order bride,” Cynthia, as well as his trans-attraction. Cynthia is perhaps the broadest caricature in the film, an exotic dancer who speaks in broken English, and makes “a complete fool of herself” with her compulsive exhibitionism. Bob’s gentlemanly urge to shelter and protect her, however misguided, cannot be separated from his chivalrous urge to protect Bernadette in the pair’s tentatively blossoming romance. The film has no time for respectability politics. Acceptance must be universal, even for the broadest stereotype or most confrontational caricature, otherwise it is worthless. That is the credo of bitchy diversity.

As Tic faints after being watched by his son performing in wild drag as Mitzi, he is told by his bracingly no-nonsense estranged wife that “assumption is the mother of all fuck ups. Don’t bitch to me, bitch to him.” The nuclear family is thus proposed as a potential space of bitchy diversity, where Tic could bitch freely to his son and become a positive role model through the very fact of his freedom. His son accepts his father fully, warmly applauding his drag performance and asking if he has a boyfriend at the moment, while matter-of-factly announcing that his mother used to have a girlfriend. After owning the Outback and reimagining the traditional family, the queens go home, no longer cowering in the city as a defence against the country, but positively choosing it as a homeland of their own, just as Bernadette positively chooses Bob as a home for her heart. The road movie comes to a jubilant all-singing, all-dancing climax to the strains of ABBA’s “Mamma Mia.”

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAshNAfOHTg”]

Brigit McCone wants to roam the Australian Outback in a dilapidated bus. She writes and directs short films and radio dramas.

‘Family Guy’ and Sex Positivity…or Lack Thereof

So the only difference between Meg and Lois is that while Lois is forthcoming about her sexuality, she is attractive so it’s OK to see and hear about it because the audience (and creators) can shame her for it later, whereas Meg is presented as ugly/unattractive and therefore we don’t even want to hear or see her in any sexual way unless it’s making fun of her.

This is a guest post by Belle Artiquez.

Seth MacFarlane’s Family Guy is a massive hit show that has gained popularity over the course of its ten odd seasons. Even with this immense following, the show portrays the idea of sex positivity in a solely masculine light. It passively portrays a kind of controversial sexism that appears as a joke, but still perpetuates existing problematic topics of concern for women and the Queer community. A Public Display of Misogyny is one that is sometimes done in a playful manner, but with full intention of insulting women, while at the same time making it look like said women can’t handle a simple joke. When in reality, women are quite simply fed up with the constant sexism that is rampant in today’s society but considered less than important. Other times it is done to look sexy: often seen in advertisements or music videos where women are seen in a suggestive pose surrounded by more than one half naked man. These are the kinds of misogyny that Family Guy hurls out in nearly every episode. The creators of the show attempt to normalize this behaviour and make it appear acceptable, because again, it is done in a comical, whimsical light, so… where’s the harm?

Quagmire, a character who’s only ever portrayed as a pervert, kidnapper, sexual abuser and quite frankly disgusting human being (to those of us sane enough not to laugh at the jokes associated with his behaviour) is presented in a humorous way, an outrageous and exaggerated way, but for comedic effect all the same. Even this kind of repulsive sexuality is considered acceptable to MacFarlane, because it’s funny. Female sex positivity and anything Seth MacFarlane creates do not mesh, they don’t belong, and that’s due to MacFarlane’s hyper masculine idea of sexuality being something only (straight) men can truly own and have agency in. Any depiction of male sex, no matter how perverse, is set in a positive way; this is why Quagmire is saved from serving actual jail time for his (hundreds of) sex crimes in the episode “Quagmire’s Mom.” The one episode where viewers thought that finally there was going to be some retribution for his despicable behaviour–but we couldn’t even have that, he gets away scot-free–and continues with his extremely violent sexual assaults even blaming his behaviour on his promiscuous mother (because its always the mother’s fault!) but it’s OK, because it’s all fun and cartoons. So Quagmire can really do no wrong, he won’t lose his friends when they see half naked Asian women run from the boot of his car, he won’t be reported to the police when he blatantly date rapes a woman, his sexuality is accepted in Quahog because he is a straight male.

We see women in Quagmire’s trunk numerous times throughout the show before they run for their lives.

With female sexuality and sex positivity though we have a total different story. Lois Griffin is portrayed as the extremely attractive married woman, but she is completely sexualized and fetishized throughout the show. It’s almost her only characterization, other than the nagging wife. We see her multiple times in the role of dominatrix, a few times with Peter, and once even with her own son Stewie. She is often very aggressively sexual, and some might argue that this is due to her owning her sexuality which is totally sex positive and body positive too, but I see it differently. When we see her in these roles it’s played for laughs, for shock value, that a mother and wife would have such a sexual history and violent fantasies. And this is all connected to the idea that she is presented as the Bad Mother archetype. We see her in this role quite a lot, but most often (in nearly every episode) when it comes to Meg, her daughter. She is only ever presented in this light, and it’s not hard to see why she fits this bad Mother role; she constantly laughs at meg and belittles her, she diminishes Megs sexual experiences and laughs them off, she literally steals one of Meg’s Boyfriends, insults Meg (and her appearance) and is constantly trying to control Meg’s love life, and those are just the examples that involve Meg. These are not the qualities of a mother who loves her children. So, I’m not saying that I disagree with Lois being so open about her previous and on-going sex life, or even that I have problem with her being into BDSM, I don’t think Lois is a “slut,” as she has affectionately been called on many Family Guy forums; however, I do have a very serious problem with the way in which her sexuality is directly presented to make her look bad, to make her look like a horrible woman/mother/wife.

This is not the only time her sexuality is presented in a negative light. “Mind Over Murder” is an episode that sees Peter opening up a bar in his basement. After Lois ends up singing one night, she finds that she really enjoys it so decides to make a regular appearance singing and dancing giving a jazzy feel to the bar, she feels confident and sexy but more importantly she is happy. Peter on the other hand finds the attention she gets from his male friends too much to handle and demands she stop, because it’s her fault the men don’t know how to control themselves around a woman showing a bit of skin. But also, how dare she be in control of her own sexuality. It’s fine for her husband, Quagmire, and even her son Stewie to place her in a sexual role, but for her to put herself there is outright unacceptable. She refuses to stop, giving a middle finger to slut shaming, and continues, enjoying the spotlight and attention (since she gets neither in her marriage). Her happiness does not last long, and again her sexuality, with which she is in control of, is depicted in a negative light. Soon the women of the town have a problem with her too, seeing her as a threat to their relationships with their husbands. This entire idea is meant to say that it’s a woman’s fault for men looking at her, Lois is put down, belittled and slut shamed, all because these women’s husbands don’t know how to respect women. Peter doesn’t want anybody seeing her as a sexual being because once you are married you should lose all sexual appeal to other people. That’s not sex positivity, that’s female sexual oppression and it’s extremely unfair.

Lois Griffin is extremely sexualized to the point of it being nearly her only consistent characteristic.

And that’s with a character that is considered conventionally attractive. Poor Meg is depicted as the eternal joke purely because of her appearance. Because she is frumpy, she should never have a boyfriend, she should never, ever marry an attractive boy (even though she had to lie about being pregnant in order to get down the aisle), and most of all she should never be in control of her sexual experiences. We see her in one episode making out with a guy who turns out to be Chris in a closet at Halloween, and she is depicted as so desperate for any sort of sexual attention that she will even wonder if he is going to text her the following day, she also ends up making out with Brian, a dog, but even he doesn’t want her, then another extreme, becoming obsessed with a married Joe. All these scenarios have one thing in common: they all make her out to be so starved of male attention that she will literally kiss a dog, try to take a married man or even want a sexual relationship with her own brother, so we have bestiality, incest and delusional husband stealing. These most certainly are not sex positive experiences. What’s even more infuriating is MacFarlane could have actually made a positive statement with Meg’s character; there are many teenagers who feel neglected, isolated, unattractive and ignored, who wholeheartedly understand what Meg goes through, and yet the fact that her feelings and experiences are invalidated with a simple “Shut up Meg” by the very people who are supposed to want her to be happy, turns her into another punching bag for the sake of it. It turns all of these teenagers isolation into nothing more than a joke. Meg has so much boy trouble and is even turned into a transgender man purely as a joke that she is not feminine, not attractive and not wanted. This transgender issue isn’t even explored in the show, it’s a one off joke…it the she’s not feminine, so she must want to be a man hetero-biased argument that is extremely offensive.

This basically sums up Meg’s life. Always the physical and metaphorical punching bag for her family.

This is all based on heteronormative sexuality, and as anybody who watches Family Guy knows, there are a lot of representations of the LGBT community in the show. But does MacFarlane depict these in positive ways? Absolutely not. The presentations of queer sexuality are deeply stereotypical: gay men are extremely feminine and lesbian women are masculine. One episode that really stands out, but is not even nearly the only episode, concerning this issue is “Quagmire’s Dad” (I feel like Quagmire and his family are the centerpiece of sex misrepresentation in the show). Quagmire’s father, a war hero veteran, comes to town to visit his son, and very suddenly characters are remarking on how “gay” he appears, because he drinks cosmopolitans and his voice isn’t the low masculine they expected of a war hero. Stereotyping, it appears, is rampant when it comes to the discussion of gender identity. As it turns out, Quagmire’s father is not gay, but transgender–he wants to transition into a woman. He describes wanting to change his future his future not his past and how he has dealt with these feelings for a long time, this so far is not a negative portrayal of trans folk and their experiences, but the sympathetic portrayal ends there. In the hospital for his operation, Lois refers to the entire thing as a “circus,” the conversation revolves around the chopping off of his penis and there is basically no actual support for this man who is about to go through a life changing transition.

Stewie showing how transphobic the characters (and show) are.

After the transition, Quagmire’s father, now known as Ida, is treated with contempt by everyone, Lois throws out a pie Ida makes and Peter asks inappropriate questions about Ida’s breasts and lack of penis. Everyone is wholly unaccepting of Ida, until Brian meets her at a pub, and instantly falls for her. They end up spending the night together and Brian is absolutely smitten with this wonderful woman he met the night before. That is until he finds out who she is , then he vomits everywhere, forgets about the “wonderful” woman he met the night before and is totally focused on the fact that she was a man. It’s important to note that Brian is used on numerous occasions to highlight the “sexually unwanted” aspect of numerous characters. It’s the “not even a dog would have you” theme. Unfortunately for Ida, her sexuality is thus seen as something wrong, disgusting and unpleasant. Yet again Family Guy fails to interpret very real experiences in a way that is not exploitative. And that’s just one transphobic episode that seemed dedicated to being just that, unaccepting and a massive joke. There are plenty of transphobic references throughout the show, one recurring joke includes Stewie, who is presented as increasingly Bisexual (since he appears to have relationships with girls, loves dressing as a woman, hits on gay men, and has sexual fantasies of his teddy bear Rupert) as the show progresses. His sexual identity is as confusing as a cat that barks: we know that he has to be gay, in the very least, as he enjoys seeing the male body, relaxing in gay bars etc. However, on numerous occasions we see him either date or kiss girls (also babies just in case you were wondering) which could either be Stewie trying to fight his homosexual nature, which just doesn’t seem plausible because he appears to be quite open about it, or he is in fact bisexual. Whichever it is, this is played for laughs, and is not in any way an accurate representation of a child growing up under the spotlight that is patriarchy’s hatred of anything but hetersexuality. Instead we have cheap laughs at Stewie dressed as a woman, acting as a stereotypical gay or even spying on unsuspecting men in the shower (similar to Quagmire’s behaviour).

Stewie often dresses as a woman, and enjoys the occasional relaxing night at a gay bar.

So MacFarlane’s definitely not sex positive when it comes to women or anybody of the LGBT community, but is somehow accepting of a hyper-masculine rapist/pervert’s sexuality! Logical? No not at all. Offensive? Absolutely. And hey, that’s all Family Guy strives for–to be as offensive as possible regardless of how it portrays its sexual minorities.

Belle Artiquez graduated from film and Literature studies in Dublin and since has continued her analysis and critique of film, TV, and literature (mainly in the area of gender politics and representations) as well as cultural and societal critiques on such blog spots as Hubpages and WordPress.

Dysphoria Dystopias in ‘The Matrix’ and ‘Glen or Glenda’

However, comparing Wood’s deeply personal product with the Wachowskis’ deeply polished one, ‘Glen or Glenda’s explicit gender dysphoria with ‘The Matrix’s allegorical dysphoria reveals parallels that illuminate both films.

“You’re here because you know something. What you know you can’t explain, but you feel it. You felt it your entire life.” – Morpheus, The Matrix

Though Lana Wachowski’s coming out should not be an excuse to limit interpretation of the Wachowski siblings’ most iconic film, The Matrix, to a closeted discussion of gender dysphoria, yet it is a film that is profoundly concerned with psychic dysphoria as sci-fi dystopia: with jarring disconnects between perceived reality and actuality, embodied in a heroic struggle for the reimagination of the self against escalating systems of social control. Ed Wood Jr.’s cult 1953 B-movie, Glen or Glenda, explicitly harnesses classic science fiction to dramatize the psychology of gender dysphoria. As was fictionalized in Tim Burton’s biopic Ed Wood, Wood was a self-accepting crossdresser who approached the topic of gender dysphoria with an empathy almost unique for his era, clumsily advancing enlightened opinions that would later become orthodoxy. There may be deceptive cunning underneath Wood’s film’s rough surface. Assigned to create a cheap, B-movie freak-show exploitation of the notoriety of Christine Jorgensen’s sex change, Wood delivers a freak-show of random mad scientists, mischievously accuses the cismale audience of suffering from pattern baldness due to their failure to wear women’s hats, creates a surreal nightmare of social conditioning, and then allows his transgender subjects to be islands of humanity within this freakish world. He effectively delivers a transgender freakshow in which the transgender are never freaks. On the surface, Wood’s film and the Wachowskis’ could not be more different: one is the cheap and amateurish product of a man popularized by the Golden Turkey Awards as “the worst director of all time,” while the other is a slick blockbuster considered a milestone in special effects, that has spawned serious, academic debate over its philosophical meanings. However, comparing Wood’s deeply personal product with the Wachowskis’ deeply polished one, Glen or Glenda‘s explicit gender dysphoria with The Matrix‘s allegorical dysphoria reveals parallels that illuminate both films.

Dystopia, Now: Contemporary Reality As Sci-Fi Nightmare

“It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth” – Morpheus, The Matrix

The most fundamental parallel between The Matrix and Glen or Glenda is their shared concept of present reality as a creation of sci-fi dystopia. In Glen or Glenda, Boris Karloff’s mad scientist is positioned as a creator-figure, who performs sex change transformations with a wave of his hand, while omnisciently supervising all life. Though Karloff’s never-really-specified relationship to the film’s realist narrative, complete with weirdly hovering intrusions over the action, are celebrated ironically as symptoms of Wood’s incompetence and oddness, yet Karloff’s role in Glen or Glenda mirrors that of the machines in The Matrix: he enables a dual discourse of irresistible predestination and faulty creation. Karloff’s “pulling of the string” drives surges of wildebeest like irresistible animal impulses, which place Wood’s hero as a puppet who must “dance to that which one is created for” while recognizing that “nature makes mistakes, it’s proven every day”, just as Neo struggles to accept that he is not in control of his own life through the guidance of his re-creator Morpheus.

Using a nightmare sequence of mobbing crowds and mocking variants of the schoolyard chant “slugs and snails and puppy dog’s tails, that’s what little boys are made of, sugar and spice and all things nice, that’s what little girls are made of,” Wood dramatizes the sinister power of social conditioning in a way that would be considered Lynchian surrealism, if he wasn’t dismissed as the worst director of all time. Where Wood uses a nightmarish dream sequence, the Wachowskis use body horror, in the violation of flesh-penetrating bugs and the imposed silence of a mouth literally sealed shut, to expressively dramatize the sinister power of their Agent “gatekeepers” over the hero’s most intimate body and self. Wood’s visual vocabulary for expressing the internal experience of gender dysphoria is drawn from James Whale’s Frankenstein, a queer lexicon of absent nurture and flawed divinity. The Wachowskis’ visual vocabulary in The Matrix is drawn from Ghost In The Shell, a cyberpunk anime that explores gender identity through a dystopia where characters can explore their identity by “plugging themselves in” to superpowered new bodies (or “shells”) of any gender. The effect of both texts, however, is to code lived reality as a profoundly unnatural and imposed nightmare that is essentially dystopian and demands the psyche’s resistance, symbolized for the Wachowskis by re-Creator Morpheus’ red pill.

Wood’s decision to open his film with a trans* woman’s suicide, narrated through her suicide note of repeated arrests for cross-dressing–“let my body rest in death, forever, in the things I cannot wear in life”–underlines the seriousness of the psychological crisis of gender dysphoria. Wood’s dramatization also recognizes the individual nature of each trans* experience, from the “transvestite,” who was conditioned by the environment of early youth to value femininity over masculinity and yearn to express his feminine side, to the “pseudo-hermaphrodite” Anne, who seems to correspond to a trans woman in her description as “a woman within… indeed meant to be a woman.” Anne challenges gender stereotypes by excelling as an army officer, before choosing a sex change operation. The “removal of the man and the formation of the woman” is represented onscreen by Bela Lugosi’s scientist blessing the new incarnation in a pseudo-religious ceremony.

The Holy Trinity: Variations And Incarnations

“You’ve been living two lives. In one life, you’re Thomas A. Anderson… the other life is lived in computers, where you go by the hacker alias “Neo”… One of these lives has a future and one of them does not.” – Agent Smith, The Matrix

When Keanu Reeves’ hero, hacker Thomas Anderson, is introduced, he has constructed an imaginary identity and vicarious second life as “Neo” that is confined within the cyber-realm. The basic plot of the first film is Anderson’s gradual embrace and embodiment of “Neo” as his true identity, while realizing his imposed identity of Thomas Anderson as a fictional construct. It is Hugo Weaving’s sinister Agent Smith of the social-conditioning “matrix” who continually imposes the (explicitly masculine) identity of “Mr. Anderson” onto Neo. It is when Neo finally resists and asserts “my name is Neo!” that he frees himself from the inevitability of his defeat. It is Neo’s allies who affirm his true identity, with Trinity’s iron belief in his potential self, embodied as a kiss, acting as the catalyst for his final awakening into unbounded liberation. Many commentators have pointed out that Neo can be read as a Christ allegory. Fewer have highlighted that Trinity’s name evokes the Holy Trinity’s conception of a single being’s incarnation into multiple forms. If Morpheus functions as a Creator/Father mentor to Neo’s Christ-figure, Trinity must represent his Holy Spirit. Her kiss is therefore not only Mary Magdalene’s handmaiden witnessing Christ’s resurrection, but the descent of the dove/spirit as agent of his baptism and awakening to mission.

The film’s iconic uniform of black leather, slicked back hair and shades visually codes Carrie-Anne Moss as a female variant of Keanu Reeves’ hero, reimagining the patriarchal Holy Trinity of the Christian religion as a transracial, transsexual one (the theme of transracial incarnation would later play a controversially race-bending role in the Wachowskis’ Cloud Atlas). While the dizzying complexity of the Matrix sequels are beyond the scope of my study, it should be noted that they center on Neo’s battle through ever complicating systems of social control and predestination to avoid the compelled sacrifice of Trinity. A traditional feminist reading would bemoan that Trinity serves as yet another apparently Strong Woman reduced to damsel-in-distress. However, reading Trinity as Neo’s liberated alter-ego enables an interpretation that is more coherent and thematically rich. Trinity is introduced before Neo – demonstrating her super-strength and desirable mastery over laws of nature, she is his ultimate goal throughout the films.

Glen Or Glenda describes the relationship of “Glen” and “Glenda” as “not half man, half woman, but nevertheless man and woman in the same body,” evokes the idea of multiple incarnation of a unified being. A kind of trinity is established between Glen, Glenda and the supervising creator Karloff, similar to that between Morpheus, Trinity and Neo.

The Blue Pill: The Lure Of The Cure

“You take the blue pill, the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe.” – Morpheus, The Matrix

In The Matrix, the “blue pill” represents returning to the “prison for your mind” that is coercive social conditioning. The character of Cypher represents the lure of the cure, in rejecting the “desert of the real” with its lack of comforts, its isolation and its persecution by patrolling machines, in order to resume a pre-programmed, conforming life where he forgets his past and betrays the team because “ignorance is bliss.”

Neo is dissuaded from his own instincts for comforting conformity by Trinity, the empowered alter-ego who gives him strength to resist his moments of doubt with her own certainty: “You know that road. You know exactly where it ends. And I know that’s not where you wanna be.” In Glen or Glenda, Barbara becomes the strengthening image, with her willingness to accept and love Glen, even if he never abandons women’s clothing, being the catalyst for his mental freedom. While insisting that a sex change is a happy ending for Anne, Glen’s happy ending becomes his reabsorption into a standard male role by finding his cravings for loving femininity fully answered by Barbara. This ending satisfies the mainstream audience’s urge to “cure” Glen, but only if they can grant the trans* audience’s demand that Glenda be accepted as she is, as a part of Glen, as a crucial precondition of the cure.

Gender policing limits the opportunities for full self-realization of all people, though their realized selves might take many forms across a wide spectrum of gender identity. In Lugosi’s words, “one is wrong because he does right. One is right because he does wrong.” Paradoxically, the mainstream audience are the obstacle to their own liberation, because of their mental indoctrination into an ideology of gender policing. As The Matrix‘s Morpheus puts it, they are “the very minds of the people we are trying to save, but until we do these people are still a part of that system, and that makes them our enemy.” Or as Glen or Glenda has it: “You Are Society – JUDGE YE NOT.” In the struggle to envision a world without rules or controls, without borders or boundaries, the self-actualization of all people is implied. As long as their matrix of policing thoughts and ingrained prejudices exists, the human race will never be free. What an everyday nightmare.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vUoSPJm5w0″]

Brigit McCone covets the Bride of Frankenstein hairdo, writes and directs short films and radio dramas. Her hobbies include doodling and hanging out with her friends.

To Boldly Go: ‘Star Trek: The Next Generation’ Explores the Limits of Sexual Attraction in “The Host”

Once Beverly decides that so little of her attraction to Odan was wrapped up in his host body, the floodgates of sex, sexuality, gender, and physical attraction were wide open.

This guest post by Swoozy C appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

Last year, after seeing my closest twitter friends relentlessly tweet its praises, I set out to strengthen my nerd cred by finally watching Star Trek: The Next Generation in its entirety. The show is a great watch for a number of reasons, but one of the best is its attempts progressive social messages. Despite Geordi La Forge (played by Lavar Burton minus all of his real life swagger) being an apparent 24th century holdover from the Men’s Rights Advocates, Star Trek was incredibly forward thinking in its open exploration of sexuality.

“The Host” has stuck out as one of my favorite episodes for this. In this episode, Beverly Crusher (Gates McFadden), the Enterprise’s chief medical officer, falls in love with a Trill ambassador named Odan (Franc Luz) who is on the ship to mediate a dispute between the inhabitants of two moons. While on his way to a meeting, Odan is fatally injured. Once he returns to the Enterprise, he explains to Beverly that as a Trill, he exists in a symbiotic relationship between a “symbiont” and a host body. In order to survive, Odan must be transplanted into a new host. Because he is necessary for the success of the upcoming mediation, Riker offers to host Odan until the new body arrives, taking on Odan’s personality and all of his memories.

Understandably, Beverly is hesitant to accept the person who looks like Riker, a man she has come to love like a brother, is now Odan. She is angry for what she sees as purposeful omission on his part in not telling her that his body was merely a host and not Odan himself. When Beverly cries that he should have told her what he is, he responds with, “This is what I am,” shining a brief light on what may not have been overtly visible as an allegory for transgenderism and homosexuality in 1991 when the episode first aired. What is overt is the question: when we are romantically or sexually attracted to someone, what is it about that person that we are attracted to? This is the question that Beverly must wrestle with.

Once he is no longer in the body that she recognizes as his (and is in fact in a the body of someone she has had a long standing friendship with), Beverly must confront what it means for her to be in love with and sexually attracted to Odan.

Despite his new body, Odan’s personality, memories, and feelings are the same. He still loves and is attracted to Beverly. Beverly’s struggle is played out in a scene with the ship’s counselor Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis). “What was it I loved about him?” she asks. “His eyes? His hands? His mouth? They’re gone.” Here is where the episode shines in asking some very provocative questions. How much of our attraction is based on someone’s personality and how much is based on the body they inhabit? How much of the person and our attraction to them is held in who they are physically? Now that Odan is in Riker’s body, can she still be in love with him? Can she still want him sexually?

In her discussion with Deanna, the counselor, who has previously had a romantic relationship with Riker, encourages Beverly to accept her second chance at love. After some soul searching over a cup of lemon tea, she realizes that the body Odan inhabits is not a key factor in why she loves him, accepting the fact that not only can she love him in Riker’s body, but in the new host that is sent for him.

Despite the heteronormativity of a Riker/Beverly relationship, it is not hard to take the leap to ask how much gender is related to both our physical bodies and our sexual attraction. Odan is gendered male throughout the episode, but why? Is the symbiont inherently male? Or is he considered male because of the host bodies we’ve seen him inhabit? How much of Beverly’s attraction is based on his maleness? Once Beverly decides that so little of her attraction to Odan was wrapped up in his host body, the floodgates of sex, sexuality, gender, and physical attraction were wide open. And briefly, it appeared that Star Trek was going to reach into the depths to explore this; when Odan’s new host finally arrives, it is to our and Beverly’s surprise, a female body.

Perhaps the writers of this episode felt their audience was not ready to directly address transgender and homosexual issues, or perhaps they themselves were not ready to tackle it head on. When this episode aired, we were still six years away from Ellen’s coming out moment and “you’re gay” was one of the worst pejoratives you could use toward someone at school. Whatever the case, the writers failed miserably at what could have been one of the most forward thinking, progressive episodes of television at the time. Instead of bringing us into the utopia of the 24th century that Star Trek is set in, the writers rooted us firmly in the homo- and transphobia of our then current era.

When Odan comes to talk to Beverly in her new female body, Beverly is cold and visibly uncomfortable. When Odan tells Beverly that she is still and always will be in love with her, Beverly uses the excuse of being unable and unwilling to keep up with the Trill’s changing body, despite her excitement for the new host body up until she saw that it was female. Beverly had come so far in her own sexual exploration throughout this episode, but almost all of it is undone in these final three minutes. Suddenly, and without any contemplation that the we as the viewer get to see, Odan’s body is much more important to Beverly than it was just two scenes prior.

Of course, anyone who has sexual or romantic preferences can tell you that gender and attraction can be inextricably linked. Where Star Trek fails is in not exploring that link or even overtly admitting that gender is the real issue for Beverly. In refusing to acknowledge this, and instead place blame on a too often change in host bodies, Star Trek not only back tracks on the entire premise of the episode, but does a disservice to Beverly and the audience. Beverly’s disgust at the idea that she and Odan might continue a same- gendered romantic relationship is shortsighted for a show that takes place in the 24th century alongside a more evolved human society. It also morphs Beverly from the thoughtful, empathetic character that she has been throughout the show and this episode into a cold and uncaring one.

While having Beverly love and accept Odan’s gender fluidity would have made for a nearly perfect episode, almost as much could have been gained by simply letting her admit that, while she cared deeply for Odan, she was unable to maintain her romantic and sexual attraction with this new female body. In 1991, allowing a character like Beverly to openly question her sexual orientation, even if only to discover that she could not be in a same-gendered relationship, would have been groundbreaking.

Swoozy C is a registered nurse living that Mudita lifestyle in Los Angeles. She is a featured contributor at Femsplain.com, writing and making videos about sex, sexuality, and gender. https://twitter.com/swoozyc

Jo March’s Gender Identity as Seen Through Different Gazes

The male gaze either holds Jo back from the start, or else shows an “educational” transformation from an “unruly” female into a “desirable” young woman who knows her place.

Written by Jackson Adler as part of our theme week on The Female Gaze.

(Note: Louisa May Alcott’s novels Little Women: Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy and Good Wives, published in 1868 and 1869, respectively, are often combined into one volume as Little Women Part 1 and Little Women Part 2. Henceforth, when I refer to Alcott’s novel Little Women, I refer to the combined novel as a whole.)

Many girls and women have loved Little Women and seen their ambitions, drive, or love of reading and writing reflected in Josephine “Jo” March. Harry Potter author J.K. “Jo” Rowling told the New York Times, “My favorite literary heroine is Jo March. It is hard to overstate what she meant to a small, plain girl called Jo, who had a hot temper and a burning ambition to be a writer.” In a world that privileges men and censors women, the largely female cast of Little Women and its main character Jo have naturally been a relief and an inspiration for women, serving as a feminist narrative to many. However, the male gaze has been applied to most of the film and TV applications of the story, despite the scripts often being at least co-written by women. The male gaze tends to twist the romantic ending to use as a weapon against female viewers – reminding them of their “place” in society, and the expectation for them to marry and become housewives. Gillian Armstrong’s 1994 film, as previously pointed out by Jessica Freeman-Slade on Bitch Flicks, is far superior to these adaptations in maintaining the female centric integrity of the story, allowing the characters dignity and freedom of expression, and emphasizing Jo’s choices and self-determination. In my research, I have only come across one lonely paper and one recent play that address the possibility that Jo could be transgender. However, I think the case for this view is strong, and that discussion of Jo’s gender and how it is and isn’t seen and represented is important.

Little Women follows four Massachusetts siblings coming of age during and directly after the American Civil War. The four siblings (and I cannot be the only person on Earth who has sorted them into Hogwarts houses) are: Margaret “Meg” March (the sensible Ravenclaw), Josephine “Jo” March (the brash Gryffindor), Elizabeth “Beth” March (the loyal Hufflepuff), and Amy March (the ambitious Slytherin). (Note: Amy and Slytherin both get a lot of haters, but Amy and many Slytherins are wonderful and sweet people, truly.) Though each sibling is allotted a fair amount of attention, the story mostly focuses on Jo, the “tomboy,” for whom I will henceforth use male pronouns. One of Jo’s first lines in the novel, and one repeated in many adaptions, is “I can’t get over my disappointment in not being a boy…”

At 15 years old, and the start of the story, Jo hates his “rapidly” developing body. His “one beauty” is his “long, thick hair,” and yet he “usually bundle[s] [it] into a net, to be out of [his] way.” The word “boyish” is often used to describe Jo, his preferred name (he hates when his aunt calls him “Josephine”), the habits he uses, and the activities he enjoys. He loves using “boyish” slang and exhibiting “gentlemanly” and “boyish” habits, such as keeping his hands in his pockets and whistling. He even says that he does these things for the very reason that they are “boyish.” Jo’s father (a reverend) and his mother (whom the children refer to as “Marmee,” which in their Eastern Massachusetts/Boston dialect is pronounced as the more common “mommy”) require each of their children strive to fix their bad habits, described as their “burdens” or “bundles” to bear. Meg has her vanity, Beth has her shyness (so great she often has difficulty voicing her own opinions or standing up to others), and Amy has her selfishness. As for Jo, he is heartbreakingly required to try to be more “ladylike” and “womanly.”

This includes some useful habits, such as learning to control his temper so as to treat his siblings (namely Amy) better. However, while Laurie is allowed “Byronic fits of gloom,” Jo is encouraged to be “pleasant” because, as Amy herself states, “women should learn to be agreeable” so as to be “better liked” by society. Far from just Jo’s expressions of everyday emotions, Jo is pressured to police his words and actions every day, such as only barely resisting talking sports at a party. To please his family, Jo tries to adopt “ladylike” behavior, but often fails so miserably that he causes his family (especially Meg and Amy) embarrassment. Jo often feels “lonely” and misunderstood, even when surrounded by people who love him, and sometimes becomes “irritable” because of it. Jo finds some relief in his friendship with Theodore “Laurie” Laurence, with whom he skates, flies kites, goes rowing, and runs races. Laurie even often calls Jo “fellow” and other masculine terms of endearment. When Jo and Laurie feel particularly confined and restricted by their families and by societal expectations, they almost run away to be cabin boys together for the “adventure,” and only stop themselves due to their feelings of responsibility and love for their families. However, even Laurie’s friendly view and boyish treatment of Jo is limited. Laurie uses “sentiment” (flirtation) and is “wheedlesome” (manipulative) when pressuring Jo to marry him, proposing in large part because “everyone expects it.”

At the end of the novel and in the sequels Little Men and Jo’s Boys, Jo and his husband Professor Friedrich “Fritz” Bhaer found a school and a college for diverse pupils, giving a home and love to children who would otherwise be overlooked or even discriminated against. These institutions are open to both boys and girls, include biracial students (one a quarter Black and one part Native-American), and students with mental and physical disabilities. One of his students is another “tomboy” who ends up becoming a doctor and never marrying. Jo is particularly close with the male students and the “tomboy,” as he “sympathize[s]” with boys more than girls.

Out of the many portrayals of Jo March, I think June Allyson’s comes closest to being the “tomboy” of the novel, particularly evident when Allyson emphasizes the line about how “disappointed” Jo is at not “be[ing] a boy.” Not that Allyson’s goal was to portray the character as a transboy (the term didn’t even exist yet!), but a specific kind of heartbreak and frustration come through nonetheless. Katharine Hepburn’s (1933), Allyson’s (1949), and Susan Dey’s (1978) Jos were sadly glamoured up by their male directors. Susan Dey’s Jo feels especially constricted, as if Dey wasn’t permitted to express the character as she saw fit because directors David Lowell Rich and Gordon Hessler were constantly holding her back from showing Jo’s fire and rambunctiousness. While the TV movie still retains some feminist moments, Jo is often grabbed and physically held back by male characters, especially Laurie. Winona Ryder’s (1994) is less objectified or confined under the female gaze of director Gillian Armstrong. Though the characters of Jo’s sisters and mother are more developed and allowed room to breath under the female gaze, Ryder’s Jo is a spirited young woman who merely wants to express herself in whatever way she wants. This is somewhat comparable to director Gaby Dellal of About Ray, stating that she didn’t cast a transgender actor as the title character because that “isn’t what [the] story is about” and problematically refers to the character as “a girl who is being herself.” Ryder’s Jo does not have the same kind of yearning, heartbreak, anxiousness, and irritability that comes with being forced to hide from others (as well as oneself) one’s own true gender.

The male gaze either holds Jo back from the start, or else shows an “educational” transformation from an “unruly” female into a “desirable” young woman who knows her place. Under the male gaze, Laurie is often made into a combination of undesirable nerd and total creeper in order to justify Jo’s decline of his marriage proposal. It is implied in the 1949 adaptation that Laurie continues to have feelings for Jo, while in the 1978 TV movie it is implied that Susan Dey’s Jo realizes she has feelings for Laurie only after hearing of his marriage to Amy, I guess because the director wanted Jo to learn a lesson about how turning down men is bad? (Yeah, I was yelling at the screen.) Interestingly, this version has one of the best set-ups of Laurie’s and Amy’s relationship (Amy and the other sisters often being denied the screen time they deserve in other adaptations). However, this is because Laurie overcoming his feelings for Jo and realizing his love for Amy is used to punish Jo in this adaptation. Ironically, one of the most positive portrayals of Laurie is under Armstrong’s female gaze. This is because a more complex and autonomous Jo lends to more complex reasons for her turning down the love of his best friend. It’s not that he isn’t a good person, or that she isn’t fond of him, it’s just that she doesn’t love him as anything other than a friend, and she’s not going to commit to an-other-than-blissful relationship just because society thinks that grown men and women can’t be “just friends.”

While I think an adaptation of Little Women that portrays Jo as transgender is incredibly needed, providing representation and history for a marginalized and often silenced group, it would require a transmale gaze, ideally in the form of a transmale director. As Hollywood is so averse at diversifying its behind-the-camera positions in any way, it will probably take some time before a project such as this can be made. However, a historical drama featuring a leading trans character would make a big difference in the lives of young trans people. I know that Jo has made a huge difference in my own life as a transman. Jo and his creator Louisa May Alcott (who went by “Louis” as a young person) often feared being alone. But Jo, myself, and others like us, are not alone – and it’s important for us to know that.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

Jon Stewart, Jamelle Bouie, And Others Weigh In On The Charleston Massacre by Kinsey Clarke at NPR

How Feminist TV Became The New Normal by Zeba Blay at The Huffington Post

Orange Is the New Black Quietly Reinvents Itself by Losing the Villain Narrative by Margaret Lyons at Vulture

Angela Lansbury’s School of Feminist Witchcraft by Jessica Mason McFadden at Gender Focus

SIFF Review – ‘Tangerine’ Takes on Every Label: Black, Brown, Poor, Trans, Woman & Sex Worker by Jai Tiggett at Shadow and Act

In “3 1/2 Minutes,” We See a Life Cut Short by Nijla Mu’min at Bitch Media

‘Seoul Searching’ Director: ‘This Country is Half Made Up of Minorities, But Cinema Doesn’t Reflect That’ by Dave McNary at Variety

An Open Letter to Jerry Seinfeld by Julia Robins at Ms. blog

Broadening a Transgender Tale That Has Only Just Begun by Erik Piepenburg at The New York Times

Want to understand what it means to be a woman? Look to robots. by Alyssa Rosenberg at The Washington Post

Get Ready for Wes Studi as Badass Native Antihero in ‘Ronnie BoDean’ by Wilhelm Murg at Indian Country Today Media Network

Natalie Portman Insisted on Female Director for Ruth Bader Ginsburg Biopic by Nolan Feeney at TIME

OITNB’s Ruby Rose Schools Us On Gender Fluidity by Jessie Mooney at ELLE

Highlights from Ava DuVernay, Nicole Kidman, Jill Soloway at WIF’s 2015 Crystal + Lucy Awards by Inkoo Kang at Women and Hollywood

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

Introducing Caitlyn Jenner at Vanity Fair

Laverne Cox and Janet Mock on Caitlyn Jenner and Trans Visibility

Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar’s Interview with Megyn Kelly: Minimize, Deny, Obfuscate by Libby Anne at Patheos – Love, Joy, Feminism

Interview: Lorraine Toussaint On Commitment To Characters, The Bechdel Test, And Baring It All For ‘Orange Is The New Black’ by Jai Tiggett at Shadow and Act

In “Spy,” Melissa McCarthy Screws With Your Expectations—And Gets the Last Laugh by Rebecca Olson at Bitch Media

Update!: 115 Films By and About Women of Color, and What We Can Learn From Them by jai tiggett at Women and Hollywood

‘No Más Bebés’ Exposes Sterilization Abuse Against Latinas in L.A. by Miriam Zoila Pérez at Colorlines

Kiki’s Delivery Service and My Witchy Feminist Awakening by Anna Gragert at The Mary Sue

A Q&A With Transparent Creator Jill Soloway by Aviva Dove-Viebahn at Ms. blog

Amy Schumer, Antiheroine by Laura Goode at Bright Ideas Magazine

Female Directors Better Represented in Festival Films Than Blockbusters (Study) by Hilary Lewis at The Hollywood Reporter

The Status of Women in the U.S. Media 2015 (Reports and Infographics) at Women’s Media Center

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

Crowdfund This: Dawn Porter’s ‘Trapped’ (On the Abortion War & Women’s Rights) – Watch Trailer by Tambay A. Obenson at Shadow and Act

Op-ed: Bruce Jenner Helps Us Stand Taller in Our Truth by B. Scott at Advocate.com

New Film “Clouds of Sils Maria” Toys With Powerful Sexual Tension by Jess Kibler at Bitch Media

Why Do Black Women’s Lives Only Matter When We’re Entertaining on TV? by Kesiena Boom at For Harriet

Did Louie Get Raped? by Danielle Henderson at VultureThe

Director Paul Feig Prepares ‘Spy’ With Melissa McCarthy by Melena Ryzik at The New York Times

Leslie Mann to Star in R-Rated Comedy About Motherhood by Inkoo Kang at Women and Hollywood

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

‘Glee’ and Transmen

As I hope is obvious by me being a writer for ‘Bitch Flicks,’ I am a feminist, as well as a transman, and it therefore positively enraged me when I found out which character ‘Glee’ was outing as a transman.

Written by Jackson Adler.

FOX’s Glee, a show about a high school glee club, its teachers, and, later, its alumni, is airing its final episode March 20, after six seasons. Glee has been a show aimed at families, teens especially, and has no doubt been an introduction to LGBT issues and representation to many. While not always perfect in how it addresses various issues, it has certainly raised awareness in America to LGBT rights and acceptance. Due to the show having had a fair amount of tokenism of various groups, although it has improved in terms of representation in regard to some of those groups, when it was announced that one of the show’s characters was going to come out as a transman, I was simultaneously unsurprised and excited. I was several seasons behind on the series, and that announcement made my ears perk up and lead me to binge-watching the show again. At that point in time, I had literally seen zero representations of transmen and transboys in fictional media, and it was going to mean a lot to me to see my identity validated. As I hope is obvious by me being a writer for Bitch Flicks, I am a feminist, as well as a transman, and it therefore positively enraged me when I found out which character Glee was outing as a transman.

Football Coach Sheldon (formerly known as Shannon) Beiste has been one of my favorite characters on the show. Dot-Marie Jones is a phenomenal actress, and though the writing quality of her character is incredibly fickle, she commits beautifully to every moment. She and her character are tall, broad, muscular people, and much of Bieste’s character arc is about how every woman deserves to be respected, to feel pretty, and to have a chance at love. Her character has been repetitively bullied by those whose narrow definition of femininity and womanhood is beyond her character’s reach. It is therefore highly important that other characters started to acknowledge Beiste’s femininity, and to see Beiste as a woman who should be treated and respected like any other. When the writers of Glee decided to make Coach Beiste their token transman, it undermined her character arc and a powerful lesson about sexism and bodyshaming. It was a slap in the face to girls who had written to Dot-Marie Jones sharing their personal stories of being bullied for not meeting the narrow physical image of feminine beauty that is wrongfully promoted in our culture. I felt insulted for the actress, because it is her own body that is on display and is argued about in the episodes in which she stars. I felt awful for every woman and girl, and those raised as such, who has ever faced bodyshaming. There are so many other characters on the show from which the writers could have chosen to be their token transman, so choosing Coach Beiste was far from the only, and definitely not the best, option. In my opinion, two of the best characters the writers of Glee could have chosen to be a transman would have been Emma Pillsbury and Quinn Fabray.

School counselor Emma Pillsbury has anxiety and OCD, and for much of the show was terrified of sex. Many transpeople develop anxiety and OCD due to the pressures they have felt to present and pass as a gender that was assigned to them, and not their true gender. While it would have been great for the character to be out as asexual, another possibility would be that the character is uncomfortable with sex due to physical dysphoria in regards to their own body. Emma Pillsbury coming out as a transman would have also required glee club teacher Will Schuester to address his stance on homosexuality on a more personal level, due to his romantic relationship (and now marriage) with Emma.

Quinn Fabray was always obsessed with being the best girl at the school, the best cheerleader with the best boyfriend, the best hair, the best clothes, with being the homecoming and prom queen. Wouldn’t it be interesting if this obsession was revealed to be a way of compensating for not being a girl at all? What if her attraction to fellow blonde Sam Evans was because he was a representation of the type of boy Quinn secretly wanted to be? Then Quinn’s various past partners, including Quinn’s on and off boyfriend hypermasculine Noah “Puck” Puckerman, would have to contemplate their own sexuality and their opinions on homosexuality in a more personal way.

Both Emma and Quinn are skinny, White, and fit what society deems to be attractive. They often wear makeup and “feminine” clothing. Writing either Emma Pillsbury or Quinn Fabray as a transman would have challenged societal views and myths in regard to femininity and masculinity. It would have meant more thorough discussions about identity and sexuality, and the societal biases towards them. Glee so often provides “lessons” for its viewers, so why not address the subject of transmen in a way that thoroughly addresses issues surrounding that identity, instead of going the route that it did and promote a misogynistic message that Coach Beiste really isn’t and never was a woman who should be respected and treated like any other? Though Glee is ending, hopefully other shows, especially family and teen shows, will promote LGBT issues just as often, if not more so, than Glee – though hopefully in a more thorough and respectful way.

Top Six Anthems Inspired by Kate Pierson’s ‘Mister Sister’

The painfully pungent overtones of Band Aid and Miley Cyrus kept me from appreciating the altruism.

Written by Andé Morgan.

Hey folks, remember that cis-origin trans anthem you didn’t ask for? Kate Pierson’s got you covered!

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZzSgYQl2RY”]

This weekend Pierson released the video for her new single, “Mister Sister.” She’s accompanied by Fred Armisen of Portlandia (and “Estro-Maxx”) fame.

It also features Alyson Palmer of the band BETTY. Palmer is well-known for her strong opposition to trans inclusion (e.g., her support for Womyn-born Womyn policies) at the Michigan Womyn’s Festival.

Pierson said “I hope this becomes a trans anthem.”

WATCH: The B-52s’ Kate Pierson Is Back With A ‘Trans Anthem’ http://t.co/mekSiGFvjT

— KATE PIERSON (@THEKATEPIERSON) December 5, 2014

Some lyrics from the song:

Hey mister sister

You raid that closet for fish nets

It’s lonely

But you keep wishing

I know there is no one that listens

and these:

You hear the words

You make a beautiful girl

A beautiful girl

And nothing hurts when you are a beautiful girl

A beautiful girl

Wow, she gets it.

I hate to shade Pierson. Her intent seems good, she’s family, and her music resonates with many, including some transgender women. HOWEVER, Pierson is cisgender, and I don’t like it when cisfolks co-opt the trans experience for fun, profit, or even do-goodery. Really, the painfully pungent overtones of Band Aid and Miley Cyrus kept me from appreciating the altruism. To her credit, Pierson has indicated a willingness to have a dialogue on this.

In the meantime, here are some upcoming “helpful” songs soon to be released by your favorite artists!

1. “Feminists are Pretty, Too!” by R. Kelly

2. “I Wanna Touch Your Hair” by Taylor Swift

3. “I Like Mexican Ladies ‘Cus They Salsa While They Make Salsa” by Kenny Chesney

4. “Pink Tutus and Barbie Dolls (The Transgendered Kid at School)” by Macklemore

5. “Do Secular Humanists Even Know it’s Christmas?” by U2

6. “Queers, Am I Right?” by The Fred Durst/Chad Kroeger Steamroller Collective

OK, I’m done. At least James Nichols, HuffPo Gay Voices associate editor, keyed in on what’s really important here: “We’re loving the retro sound of this new single from Pierson.”

Also on Bitch Flicks: “The Joyful Feminist Killjoy” by Leigh Kolb

Andé Morgan lives in Tucson, Arizona, where they write about film, television, and current events. Follow them @andemorgan.

Finally! A TV Show That Handles Transgender Issues With Grace

Television, historically, has not been a welcoming place for transgender people. “Trans representation” has previously consisted mainly of male sitcom characters relating stories about dating women who turned out to be transgender, and then saying “Eww!”

Things are changing now, though, with the breakthrough success of Laverne Cox on ‘Orange is the New Black’ and now director Jill Soloway’s new half-hour dramedy ‘Transparent.’

This guest post by Leela Ginelle originally appeared at Bitch Media and is cross-posted with permission.

Things are changing now, though, with the breakthrough success of Laverne Cox on Orange is the New Black and now director Jill Soloway’s new half-hour dramedy Transparent. All eleven episodes of Transparent are available for binge-watching on Amazon today.

Transparent revolves around the Pfefferman family, made up of three adult children—housewife Sarah (Amy Landecker), record company professional Josh (Jay Duplass), and free spirit/lost child Ali (Gaby Hoffmann)—and their divorced parents, Jewish caricature Shelly (Judith Light) and wealthy near-retiree Mort (Jeffrey Tambor).

Nearly all the publicity that’s greeted the show since its pilot’s appearance in March has concerned its main plot point: father-figure Mort commences her transition, aligning her body with her female gender identity. The first episode handles this quite elegantly. Mort gathers the children to their childhood home but is unable to break the news to them. Later, we see Tambor, now named Maura, at an LGBT support group sharing a story about encountering micro-aggression level transphobia at a big box store when having to produce an ID for a judgmental clerk (bonus points for accuracy!). At the group, Maura also voices a combination of disappointment and bewilderment at the selfishness and self-absorption of her three children. It’s an appraisal the viewer might share.

Jeffrey Tambor, Jay Duplass, and Gaby Hoffman form an awkward family.

Throughout the pilot, Sarah, Josh and Ali all come off as extravagantly privileged, arrogant, and shallow. They speak exclusively in off-puttingly “clever” banter that’s either the result of overwritten dialogue or inadvisably preserved improv.

Critics often say viewers shouldn’t judge a show’s quality by its pilot because writers discover their characters’ voices and rhythms as they go. That may well be the case with Transparent. While the show deals with its central character’s identity very well, there’s certainly room for improvement when it comes to the rest of the family.

A central conceit of the pilot is that not just Maura, but all the characters have hidden sides of themselves. Throughout the pilot, we see each family pursue their hidden interests. Sarah, for instance, comes across a former girlfriend from college, rekindling a passion she’d long forgotten. Josh, who’s dating a super young, skinny blonde singer, is revealed to have a seemingly secret relationship with an older, bigger woman of color. Ali, for her part, seeks out a strict, militaristic personal trainer, and quickly establishes a kinky dynamic in their workouts.

These plots are all interesting and I can imagine them developing nicely throughout the first season, but the show’s pace feels a little slack in the pilot. The three children’s narcissism and the exemption them seem to enjoy from any of the stress that defines daily life for most people, makes their experiences appear trivial.

This isn’t true of Maura. The necessity of grappling with her gender transition lends gravity to her story. Likewise, her impatience with her offspring’s myopic behavior makes her a kind of audience surrogate.

Tambor is terrific in the part. While it might have been nice to see a trans woman in the role, the fact that Maura is just embarking on her transition mitigates any charges that Tambor, as a cis man, has “stolen” the part from a trans woman actress, in my view. Moreover, Soloway has spoken about hiring many trans crew members for the set, and trans actresses and actors for other parts throughout the season.

Tambor lends real pathos to the role, communicating Maura’s gentleness and offering glimpses of the pain she experiences living an authentic life in a culture where unconscious transphobia lingers and informs countless otherwise impersonal encounters.

I can imagine that as the siblings engage with the reality of their parent’s transition, they’ll experience an increased intimacy in areas of their own lives. Whether the viewer will find that journey compelling or not remains to be seen.

Like fellow female show creator Jenji Kohan (Orange is the New Black), Solloway organically constructs a world seen through women’s eyes. The show’s main male character, Josh, surrounds himself with women, and seems at home with his sisters, and, in one of his few lines of dialogue, Sarah’s husband Len declares, “I like lesbians.” Unlike in OITNB, however, this world seems untethered to reality. The characters swim in money derived from unnamed or farfetched sources (a wealthy, successful music executive in 2014?).

That Soloway’s cisgender characters feel the most unrealistic shows how successful she’s been at representing Maura’s trans experience. In interviews promoting her show, she’s stressed how important that is to her, and has walked the talk, correcting NPR anchor Arun Rath when the latter misgendered Maura, and used the term “transgendered.”

Transparent‘s motives and sensitivities are unimpeachable. Let’s hope its drama and pacing become that way, as well. If that happens, it will be a must-see series.

Leela Ginelle is a trans woman playwright and journalist whose work appears in PQ Monthly, Bitch, and the Advocate.