Source: www.artflick.com

She’s a Boy I Knew

Kathy Chan

There is probably nothing more gratifying than to win two of the most esteemed awards at the Vancouver International Film Festival, and local filmmaker Gwen Haworth can definitely attest to that. Winner of the “People's Choice Award for Most Popular Canadian Film” and the “Women in Film & Television Vancouver Artistic Merit Award,” Haworth is incredibly humble about her presumed “15 minutes of fame.” 

She’s a Boy I Knew is Haworth’s documentary on her transition from Steven to Gwen. Shot entirely with a handheld HD [high definition] camera, the film uses archival footage and creative animation to tell the story of the Haworth family and how they deal with their feelings as they watch Steven depart and Gwen enter their lives. Personal and very intimate, this film is a true gem.         

GLOSS: How was your experience at the Vancouver International Film Festival? Were there any surprises, highlights, moments?
Gwen: I entered the film into the festival when it was still a work in progress. Happily it was selected, though I was really nervous about how it would look on the big screen, as it’s a low-tech, DIY [do-it-yourself], self-funded film. However, the response was really warm and it’s received great word of mouth. The two screenings quickly sold out, and the festival added a third screening, which also sold out. The experience made me realize that there is interest in a film like this, and that it does resonate with people.  

GLOSS: How did you feel when you found out you won the awards?
Gwen: I was sincerely shocked and surprised. I hoped that it would resonate with people, but I never expected it to receive this level — say “We’ve made a mistake.” But so far they haven’t, which is great, because the recognition has generated interest from distributors and other festivals.

GLOSS: How did you decide you were going to make a film about transitioning, and in a documentary format?
Gwen: I went through the undergraduate program at UBC [University of British Columbia] for psychology and then film, and I wanted to go back to get my MFA [Masters of Fine Arts], but not until I found my voice. At that point in time, I didn’t feel like telling everyone about my gender identity. But when I came about to do it, I realize that I was finally able to approach the subject matters that were close to me. At the same time, I came out about my “trans” and didn’t find anything out there that was for families or friends to document the transitioning process. That was really hard because I knew it would be easier to facilitate the process for my family. When I was going through my degree, I thought I would make a narrative film and until I reached the end of my transition. I realized that everyone was still there and loving and supportive even though we all have our challenges. It was the right time to make the film, so I had to put down the narrative because I realized how much my family and I would have benefited if we had something like this documentary when we were going through the process. 

I thought it would be very important to get it out there to other people — something that was from a very personal and intimate experience. Even though everyone had very different views about the transition, I think that there was a lot of love and support and mutual compassion and understanding. I think these things are what families need to have and be aware of when they are going through gender or sexuality issues. A lot of people transition but are so in fear of conflict that it just further suppresses their needs, which falls into higher isolation and higher suicide rates amongst the “trans” community.

GLOSS: Was there a deciding moment, factor, or person that made you realize that you couldn’t live your life in fear anymore and you had to come out? 
Gwen: I think it was more a bunch of little things at a certain point, that it had been so much, that I felt it was time. I was 27 and I was starting to feel really numb about life. I couldn’t invest into the issues and things all the people around me were going through. I think in the summer of 2000, I was just at a point where no matter what I had set up for myself for the future, nothing seemed to have a lot of investment in it for me anymore. I felt really impartial. I realized that if I continued at this point, I would just be [a] walking zombie. It would just be social maintenance as to really enjoying life with family and friends.

At the same time, I was working with special needs children in Richmond. I saw in them a lot of their own — of being their own self-advocates — and them just enjoying life. It resonated with me because even though it was a different situation, …seeing these kids happy to be alive and comfortable with who they were regardless of what other people had labelled or treat them, they were enjoying life. I had to admire these kids for who they were. A lot of little things came along where I really felt like I had to come out and tell people.

GLOSS: Your film shows your family as being wonderfully accepting and loving. Why do you think media sometimes floods viewers with images of horrific violence and isolation instead of focusing more on positive situations, such as your film and members of your the family?
Gwen: The unfortunate thing with film and television is that conflict sells. And most screenwriters and producers tend to confuse conflict with content. This leads to a disproportionate number of representations of “trans” characters as victims and/or objects of fetish, perpetuating common misconceptions about transgender folk.

Therefore, I wanted to make a documentary that was about self-advocacy and positive modelling — to show what it was like for a family to go through a gender transition and to still be there for one another. In an ironic way, it’s probably one of the more shocking and groundbreaking representations of a transsexual due to its depiction of self-empowerment and community support.

GLOSS: What was the most difficult part about making this film?
Gwen: The two and a half years’ editing was by far the most difficult and rewarding part — repeatedly going through the interview footage of my parents and ex-wife as they recounted the moments that were challenging, frustrating, and awkward for them. Yet at the same time, recognizing how much they supported me through it all and how intense their love truly is. It was an emotional process and extremely cathartic. I cried a great deal, though it was more about release than misery or sadness.

GLOSS: Overall, what has the feedback been?
Gwen: It’s been incredibly positive. The biggest compliments have come from transgender individuals who’ve seen the film and want to show it to their families. That’s huge for me, as it suggests that the film may be used to facilitate dialogue within families, which is a use I had always envisioned for the film. 

I wanted to create an intimate portrayal of one family going through the process. I’ve seen a number of documentaries that focus on two or more “trans” folk, with the intent of representing a diverse range of transgender experience. These docs are great for this reason. However, they tend to delve less thoroughly into the family inter-dynamics, often leaving the audience with two-dimensional representations of the family members and friends.    

I wanted my family to be as much a part of this story as my transition. I wanted their experiences and feelings to be well articulated and empathetic, as I’d hoped the audience would see bits of themselves in the interviewees. And based on the feedback, they do. I’ve received a number of awesome e-mails from family and friends of “trans” folk, along with e-mails from people who don’t have a “trans” individual in their life, but found themselves relating to the parent-child dynamic in the film, especially people who have stoic, strong, silent fathers from the same generation as my dad.    

GLOSS: Where is this film going to go next?
Gwen: It’ll be playing at Image+Nation in Montreal and the International Documentary Festival in Amsterdam in November. It’s also been selected to screen in Madrid and the Cleveland International Film Festival. A number of festivals from places like Torino [Italy], Buenos Aires [Argentina], New York [City], and Melbourne [Australia] have asked for screeners since the film’s premiere in Vancouver, but nothing has been confirmed as of yet.

GLOSS: What advice do you have for all transsexuals who may or may not be out, or who may be in the process of transitioning?
Gwen: That it’s important to give others the time they need to process the news you’ve told them.  Whether it takes five seconds or ten years, most people will go through the stages of shock, denial, anger, compromise, and acceptance (hopefully). It’s unfair to ask them to go through this in a matter of weeks or months. My youngest sister and best friend were on board immediately, but I realized my parents were going to need more time. Seven years later, they’re still on that journey, but they’ve come further along than I would have ever expected.

I knew that I had to let my loved ones go through their emotions and to say what they needed to say, that I needed to actively listen and validate how they were feeling before they were able to go on this journey with me. I know this is not always possible, that it’s sometimes healthier to let go of relationships that are damaging. My only fear is that occasionally we let go too quickly because we’re afraid of what we may hear from the people who are a big part of our lives and who we are. These are the folks that were there for me when I hit my lowest lows. And in recent years, I’ve been there for many of them when they’ve needed it. Biological or chosen, we’re family. That’s what we do.
For a film about families, love, support, compassion, acceptance, changes, and transsexuality, this one is a definite front-runner. If you missed this film at the Festival, check out www.artflick.com for the official She’s a Boy I Knew website for further developments, news, and release dates.