https://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/us_5bef4438e4b07573881e935d
Curtis M Wong/The Huffington Post
"The Real Thing"
A tearjerker
I'm so glad I didn't watch this on lunch at work. I needed a good cry. OMG
Yeah, lots of tears out of Megan and I, too. Thanks for posting.
Hugs, Devlyn
Definitely a tear-jerker to watch but very power message
that hits "home" for all of us here on the forums.
Keep the box of tissues next to you when watching it.
Well worth watching for sure.
Danielle
That's a three-hankie film, for sure. But so beautiful!
The young woman has her own youtube channel, Sophie Giannamore. Thank you Moonflower for posting this!
Thank you very much for posting this. From almost the first moment to well after the end, my tears were flowing. It reached me deeply on multiple levels.
That other short that was recently posted in a couple of threads, Listen, was one thing and certainly as a trans teenager myself, a bit too much of it struck a little too close to home but it made me a somewhat angry and defensive about the things I went through fifty years ago and stubbornly, I didn't let it get to me. Not then and not now.
But this one was different. First there was the bathroom thing. I used the bathroom at high school one time during my four years there and that was my freshman year and it was an emergency that I waited until the bell rang and classes started so the bathroom would be cleared out before I took care of things. The rest of the time, I had a pass to leave campus during lunch and I was able to make it home with just enough time to pee, eat something quickly and walk back to school so that scene in the film had already dredged up some memories and poked my feelers. Until I was old enough to drive, this became much more complicated and a huge hassle after I was assaulted and was no longer allowed to walk to or from school. One of my parents took off work to pick me up for lunch every day and then after school which quickly became a problematic chore but on the plus side, it motivated them to give me a hand-me-down car as soon as I turned 16 and could drive. Seeing as how it was a 1967 VW microbus, it only added to my already weird and quirky reputation.
Even though I had read the synopsis of the film and knew what was coming, I knew I was going to cry and started to even well before the climactic ending scene. I'm not even sure why it hit me so hard? I had parents that were understanding, loving and supportive that did everything they could to make my life somewhat normal amidst the social and internal chaos I dealt with every day as that kid that looked and acted like a girl that everyone at school processed as just being a super queer freak because actually changing one's name and being known as a girl just didn't happen back then.
Maybe the happy ending of the film brought up a little unresolved guilt too? At the time, I didn't realize or really even appreciate how phenomenally unique and extraordinary having understanding and supportive parents truly was especially considering the times and what monumental challenges I put them through when they really had little more than their gut feeling to go on for guidance or to know what was best. It wasn't really until I got much, much older and they were long gone that I began to realize the sacrifices they had made and all the things they had done for me and as an adult, I never got to really let them know how much all this meant to me.
As a troubled, problematic and rebellious teenager, I thought they were just being controlling Nazis. Battles were fought over looks and what I could get away with without getting kicked out of school. To them staying in school and graduating was way more important than if I was a boy or a girl or regardless of how difficult things were for me and they cut me no slack and allowed me to make no excuses whatsoever because of my situation. I was resentful they forced me to go to school everyday and face the humiliation, bullying and embarrassment of having to be known as a boy and then after I was assaulted when I was 15, for being permanently grounded and unable to leave the house at all unless one of them was with me "for my safety". Without realizing how good I had it, I felt very oppressed and after I did graduate, got my new girl IDs and went "full time", I left home weeks thereafter to get out from under their thumb and their worry that someone around every corner was going to kill me.
I am only grateful now that they did the things they did and forced me to not let my problems hold me down in life or to be excuses for failure. I didn't really understand at the time and thought they were being cruel and unsympathetic and still harbored some of that unresolved resentment when I lost my folks when I was 25 before I had perspective or enough distance from my growing up years to communicate how truly appreciative and fortunate I had been for everything they had put up with and done.
This film really hit home and after my tears had flowed themselves out, touched me enough to sit here and write about it for an hour. It's been 38 years since my mom died. I still miss her everyday. Sh!t. Now I'm crying again, dammit. Looks like it's going to be one of those days?
I just had to watch it again, the result was the same, crying like a little girl from the beginning and still sobbing minutes after the end. Literally, every scene, every moment brought up some memories and strong emotions. Only a few words were spoken but it was so much more powerful than I thought possible.
The most painful thing is that I could have been that girl, if only I would have been braver when I was her age, but I chose to hide instead and here I am more than 20 years later and still just existing instead of living.
Quote from: HappyMoni on November 17, 2018, 07:51:58 AM
I'm so glad I didn't watch this on lunch at work. I needed a good cry. OMG
Hugs and comfort to you, Moni... I love how it shows the power if using a person's real name...or not.
Quote from: Devlyn on November 17, 2018, 07:55:27 AM
Yeah, lots of tears out of Megan and I, too. Thanks for posting.
Hugs, Devlyn
Thanks for sharing it with Megan. Love to both of you.
Quote from: Alaskan Danielle on November 17, 2018, 10:22:06 AM
Definitely a tear-jerker to watch but very power message
that hits "home" for all of us here on the forums.
Keep the box of tissues next to you when watching it.
Well worth watching for sure.
Danielle
::Passing the box of tissues from Moni to Devlyn to Megan to you, with hugs::
Quote from: KathyLauren on November 17, 2018, 11:13:09 AM
That's a three-hankie film, for sure. But so beautiful!
::Putting the final stitches on three monogrammed lace hankies for you::
Quote from: gracefulhat on November 17, 2018, 12:20:26 PM
The young woman has her own youtube channel, Sophie Giannamore. Thank you Moonflower for posting this!
Good to know! I didn't recognize Sophie from Transparent.
Quote from: Lynne on November 17, 2018, 01:41:08 PM
Thank you very much for posting this. From almost the first moment to well after the end, my tears were flowing. It reached me deeply on multiple levels.
Lynne, I saved the biggest box of tissues for you. No, I take that back. Here's a soft cushy towel. May your tears give you direction for more healing.
Quote from: Lisa_K on November 17, 2018, 03:44:13 PM
That other short that was recently posted in a couple of threads, Listen, was one thing and certainly as a trans teenager myself, a bit too much of it struck a little too close to home but it made me a somewhat angry and defensive about the things I went through fifty years ago and stubbornly, I didn't let it get to me. Not then and not now.
But this one was different. First there was the bathroom thing. I used the bathroom at high school one time during my four years there and that was my freshman year and it was an emergency that I waited until the bell rang and classes started so the bathroom would be cleared out before I took care of things. The rest of the time, I had a pass to leave campus during lunch and I was able to make it home with just enough time to pee, eat something quickly and walk back to school so that scene in the film had already dredged up some memories and poked my feelers. Until I was old enough to drive, this became much more complicated and a huge hassle after I was assaulted and was no longer allowed to walk to or from school. One of my parents took off work to pick me up for lunch every day and then after school which quickly became a problematic chore but on the plus side, it motivated them to give me a hand-me-down car as soon as I turned 16 and could drive. Seeing as how it was a 1967 VW microbus, it only added to my already weird and quirky reputation.
Even though I had read the synopsis of the film and knew what was coming, I knew I was going to cry and started to even well before the climactic ending scene. I'm not even sure why it hit me so hard? I had parents that were understanding, loving and supportive that did everything they could to make my life somewhat normal amidst the social and internal chaos I dealt with every day as that kid that looked and acted like a girl that everyone at school processed as just being a super queer freak because actually changing one's name and being known as a girl just didn't happen back then.
Maybe the happy ending of the film brought up a little unresolved guilt too? At the time, I didn't realize or really even appreciate how phenomenally unique and extraordinary having understanding and supportive parents truly was especially considering the times and what monumental challenges I put them through when they really had little more than their gut feeling to go on for guidance or to know what was best. It wasn't really until I got much, much older and they were long gone that I began to realize the sacrifices they had made and all the things they had done for me and as an adult, I never got to really let them know how much all this meant to me.
As a troubled, problematic and rebellious teenager, I thought they were just being controlling Nazis. Battles were fought over looks and what I could get away with without getting kicked out of school. To them staying in school and graduating was way more important than if I was a boy or a girl or regardless of how difficult things were for me and they cut me no slack and allowed me to make no excuses whatsoever because of my situation. I was resentful they forced me to go to school everyday and face the humiliation, bullying and embarrassment of having to be known as a boy and then after I was assaulted when I was 15, for being permanently grounded and unable to leave the house at all unless one of them was with me "for my safety". Without realizing how good I had it, I felt very oppressed and after I did graduate, got my new girl IDs and went "full time", I left home weeks thereafter to get out from under their thumb and their worry that someone around every corner was going to kill me.
I am only grateful now that they did the things they did and forced me to not let my problems hold me down in life or to be excuses for failure. I didn't really understand at the time and thought they were being cruel and unsympathetic and still harbored some of that unresolved resentment when I lost my folks when I was 25 before I had perspective or enough distance from my growing up years to communicate how truly appreciative and fortunate I had been for everything they had put up with and done.
This film really hit home and after my tears had flowed themselves out, touched me enough to sit here and write about it for an hour. It's been 38 years since my mom died. I still miss her everyday. Sh!t. Now I'm crying again, dammit. Looks like it's going to be one of those days?
Hi Lisa! I'm glad to meet you here. Thanks for sharing the parallels between the story in the movie and your own. I wish I could meet you parents and thank them for giving you such support. They seem to have shared my appreciation for genuine self expression. I've always said that helping my kids discover who they are is the greatest gift of being a parent. I'm honored to be doing so for my SO as well.
Just as you feel guilty for never letting your parents know how great they were, they must have carried a lead weight when they weren't able to protect you from being assaulted. Of course, you understand that now.
Yes, I especially appreciated the subtle tone of this film.
Listen has its place for raising awareness. I wish I had seen it before
The Real Thing. I found the latter to be inspiring. I found the subtle storytelling style to be effective at grabbing and holding my attention: the many unspoken words kept my mind busy filling them in. In contrast,
Listen was point blank with its overt message.
I hope that you enjoyed the rest of your day with a cleansed heart.
@Lisa, thank you for sharing about 'Listen'! Very powerful films
Moonflower, thank you for posting this!
Spoiler alert. Watch before reading this.
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I knew what was coming but the tears burst anyway at the hug and again when he said her name. Very powerful that those were the only words spoken.
I was actually looking for the post about Listen and ran across this one first. Both very good, though I also felt like I would rather have seen Listen first.
Sent from my SM-G930T using Tapatalk
Quote from: Moonflower on November 17, 2018, 08:56:47 PM
Hi Lisa! I'm glad to meet you here. Thanks for sharing the parallels between the story in the movie and your own. I wish I could meet you parents and thank them for giving you such support. They seem to have shared my appreciation for genuine self expression. I've always said that helping my kids discover who they are is the greatest gift of being a parent. I'm honored to be doing so for my SO as well.
Nice to meet you too and thanks for your comments. My mother was an artist among many things and a genuinely creative, open-minded and intuitive spirit interested in living life to the fullest. She married her second husband, my first step-dad knowing at the time he was bisexual but they were only together a couple of years. Of course, I knew nothing about this then, it was something I asked about before she died, but I'm sure the experience expanded her attitudes about LGB folks? My second step-dad, the one that actually had some impact came into my life between the 4th and 5th grade when I was 10 years old. He had been a Lutheran pastor for 20 years but had left the church and was working in occupational rehabilitation as a practicing psychologist. I'd spent a few unpleasant months of summer vacation with my biological father during which time my mom and her new beau were already living together back in a state I had only lived in two weeks before getting shipped off. I'm sure he had been filled in with all the problems I was having with school and with the 4th grade incident that made us move to Nevada in the first place but it was like he spent two minutes with me before convincing my mom I needed to see a child psychiatrist and lickety split, I was in counseling seeing a therapist before starting the 5th grade.
It wasn't bad or what you would think I'd be subject to in 1965 or maybe I was so obviously not a boy they knew nothing was going to change that or something but the whole matter of my gender was something they delicately stepped around or maybe they were just afraid of opening a can of worms they didn't understand and I was smart enough to not cop to anything because I knew they would think I was crazy and I knew the barbaric things they did mentally ill people. I'm sure my folks, or my mom at least had a hand in their approach as well so the focus was mainly on how I dealt with the way other people treated me rather than why I was treated that way. I went to four different schools in the 5th and 6th grade. By the time I started 7th grade (1967), I'd never started and finished an entire grade at the same school. I had been in 14 different schools by then in three different states. Either the bullying and getting beat up became too intense or I was forced to leave because my appearance was unacceptable and my presence was too disruptive. Imagine me, a smaller than average gentle, shy, quiet, introverted, withdrawn and sensitive kid that just wanted to be left alone as the disruptive one? That still irks me. (Sorry, not sorry for existing, a$$holes)
My folks put up with a lot and I can't even imagine all the moving we did because I couldn't get along with the world as a boy or the world couldn't get along me as a girl or something like that? They recognized my struggles and tried to lessen them. They just went with the flow, catered to my nature, respected my individuality and encouraged me to be my highest self even if that was not someone of the gender dictated by my anatomy. It didn't really matter other than of course the external problems this caused me socially. How they were given this insight and understanding or even the courage to do something so completely progressive, unprecedented and way beyond the rules of convention to not make an already screwed up kid more screwed up is something I really can't even fathom.
Even today, some try to label supportive parents of trans kids as child abusers so I can only imagine what kind of things they dealt with behind my back that I was protected from? How much money they spent on therapists or how many battles they had with schools trying to keep me in the education system. Who supported them? I was so focused on and involved with my own issues to even think about things from their point of view until I was much, much older.
QuoteJust as you feel guilty for never letting your parents know how great they were, they must have carried a lead weight when they weren't able to protect you from being assaulted. Of course, you understand that now.
Getting teased, bullied, mocked, roughed up, clothes torn or nose bloodied on the regular was more or less routine but I thought every kid's life was like that and it more or less became my normal but when I was attacked by a group of homophobic boys while I walked home from school one day in the 10th grade that put me in the hospital with broken bones, a bruised lung, major contusions and abrasions and stitches in my face and legs that had the cops involved and me out of school a month recovering, it
was a lot more traumatic for my folks than it was for me. They were mortified. I got to meet more new "therapists". Everybody at school got to hear what happened and two of the kids that attacked me ended up in juvenile detention for a year so for the most part, people gave me a wide berth and kept their distance except for the usual name calling, shoving and I swear, the knocking my books to the ground that had became a school sport probably with trophies awarded for those with the most points?
This was just more of what it had always been like for me except just to a more extreme degree and I really thought they
were going to kill me but this whole thing and the time I spent getting better was also the time I made a clear understanding with my folks that I simply could not continue to live my life a boy and that there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I was ever going to grow up to be a man but by then, they had reached the same conclusion but became even more convinced I was only putting myself in more danger but knew there was nothing going to stop me and it actually made sense to them so they were mostly concerned how to accommodate my needs while somehow keeping me in school? Little things helped. I got my ears pierced, got razors to shave my legs. My mom took me to her salon to have my eyebrows shaped or I should say my one and a half eyebrows as I'd lost most of the one that had stitches in it (still missing). My clothes all came from the girl's department with some that could pass for boy's clothes okay for school and others I couldn't wear to school. I already had long, pretty blonde hair halfway down my back and by the time I was 16, strangers everywhere were no longer confused if I was a boy or a girl which made going to school everyday and being known as a he/him with a boy's name the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.
I barely made it through my junior year and the struggle found me depressed, suicidal and barely functional and I saw no way that I could put up with another year of this mind warping life I was living and on top of that, at 17 my very delayed puberty had begun to show its ugly signs and I was even more horrified and a complete disaster. That's when my folks somehow found me yet another doctor that supposedly could help but I'd been seeing clueless doctors since I was ten and was so over the whole thing but they insisted and they were right. I got put on HRT at the beginning of summer vacation and did a lot of talking over the next few months to get my head in the right place to make it through my senior year and graduate which I did and never looked back. The week after, I got my new IDs and paperwork and a few weeks after that, I left home with $100 in graduation money and some sandwiches with no particular plan but to get out, live my life and make my own way.
I did okay. 45 years later I'm still here.
QuoteI hope that you enjoyed the rest of your day with a cleansed heart.
Indeed I did and thank you for your kind thoughts not only to myself but to others and for taking an interest. I hope you found a few more details less than excruciatingly boring and applaud your courage for being a supportive and positive influence for your own loved ones and family. Hopefully my story can show how much that really means?
Quote from: Lynne on November 17, 2018, 05:17:25 PM
I just had to watch it again, the result was the same, crying like a little girl from the beginning and still sobbing minutes after the end. Literally, every scene, every moment brought up some memories and strong emotions. Only a few words were spoken but it was so much more powerful than I thought possible.
The most painful thing is that I could have been that girl, if only I would have been braver when I was her age, but I chose to hide instead and here I am more than 20 years later and still just existing instead of living.
Lynne, you make me particularly glad that my sweetie shared the film with me, and asked me if I wanted to share it here. So much grieving to do over missed opportunities.
Yes, I think that part of the power of the film was the minimal use of words, which drew a flood of words from my mind.
Go easy on yourself. I'm glad you're here. See how many obstacles you've overcome to get here! Then take one more tiny baby step in the direction you want.
Thank you Lisa for sharing more of your story. I like to think that someone could have taught you how to deal with such mean people, but I know firsthand that things were different then. You and I didn't have the self esteem, communication skills, and bullying assemblies that kids have now. I am so pleased that my kids grew up in a community where such extreme harassment was never tolerated.
Quote from: Lisa_K on November 18, 2018, 01:20:18 AM
I couldn't get along with the world as a boy or the world couldn't get along me as a girl or something like that?
Great perspective!
Lisa, my life partner could have written the following words if her history wasn't so typical. She's been writing her Intro. I hope you will welcome her when she comes out from lurking here.
Quote from: Lisa_K on November 18, 2018, 01:20:18 AM
I saw no way that I could put up with another year of this mind warping life I was living and on top of that, at 17 my very delayed puberty had begun to show its ugly signs and I was even more horrified and a complete disaster. That's when my folks somehow found me yet another doctor that supposedly could help but I'd been seeing clueless doctors since I was ten and was so over the whole thing but they insisted and they were right. I got put on HRT at the beginning of summer vacation and did a lot of talking over the next few months to get my head in the right place to make it through my senior year and graduate which I did and never looked back. The week after, I got my new IDs and paperwork and a few weeks after that, I left home with $100 in graduation money and some sandwiches with no particular plan but to get out, live my life and make my own way.
I did okay. 45 years later I'm still here.
I'm glad you're here, too.
Quote
thank you for your kind thoughts not only to myself but to others and for taking an interest. I hope you found a few more details less than excruciatingly boring and applaud your courage for being a supportive and positive influence for your own loved ones and family. Hopefully my story can show how much that really means?
Thanks for returning to your trans roots, and helping others to believe in themselves.