Boys Don't Cry

Finally saw Kimberley Peirce's Boys Don't Cry and was impressed by how many profound statements were worked into its gritty low-budget frame. You're transgendered, the majority of people surrounding you are not transgendered, many of them are hostile towards you because you're transgendered, and few are willing to listen and try and understand the cultural problems associated with being transgendered. Hence, things are difficult, maintaining a job is difficult, and making friends, keeping in touch with family, and being consistent, is difficult, if not impossible. Lies are necessary, depression is immanent, complications are manifold, and friendship is required, not only to help one deal with the psychological disruptions inherent in such a disposition, but also to firmly establish an enduring sense of normalcy. Because being transgendered is perfectly natural and any son of a bitch who goes around religiously promoting some kind of homophobic rhetoric in regards to such physiological features is an abusive, hate mongering, fucker, whose voice should be silenced, period. Such fuckers abound in Boys Don't Cry and the results are ugly. Peirce's film doesn't shy away from providing provocative evidence concerning the abominable affects of mainstream stereotypes, and precisely points out the reprehensible nature of normalized conceptions of the good, adequately illuminating whose ethos is irrevocably out of line.