Boys Don’t Cry
August 27, 2009
I was sitting on the floor of a corridor in school at lunch break earlier today, waiting for my next class to start. I had my earphones plugged in as I watched Boys Don’t Cry for the first time. I must have looked slightly crazy to the people passing by, because my face was all scrunched up. I would catch myself sometimes, but inevitably end up with the same scrunched up face all over again.
The movie was extremely intense. I couldn’t help but feel so involved.
I’d gotten used to sugarcoating in the movies I’d been watching, but there was none of that here. I was being thrown into a world I wasn’t ready for, and I didn’t know what to do. It was harsh, without even a heartwarming ending to make up for the emotional torture. If there was even a hint of happiness, it was bittersweet.
Scenes from the movie may cause disgust. The characters themselves certainly will not fail to. It’s difficult to learn to like a single one. Whereas other stories are about those people you know you should hate but you just can’t help but love, these people, I couldn’t seem to love. And it had nothing to do with the issue of Brandon’s being transgendered. It was just that no one could seem to do anything right, even by the lowest standard of simply acting with decency towards one another. There was so too much deceit and too little respect.
From disturbed people living in a world driven by the unnatural high of drugs, and drowning in the intoxication of alcohol, you cannot expect much. I say this as objectively as possible.
But as much of a challenge it was to watch the whole movie, it was an eye-opener. Sure, we hear about violence against transgendered people. We hear about violence about minorities in general. But we don’t see it quite as often, so we’re given the lucky privilege of choosing not to know. Not anymore.
Boys Don’t Cry, while partly fictionalized, is based on the true story of a real Brandon Teena.
This is the cold, hard truth right in front of your eyes. Don’t shut them.
