After much anticipation, we finally have an official trailer for “Transparent,” Amazon’s upcoming series about an older trans woman and the process of coming out to her family. I am personally super excited to see what comes of it. What do you think?
Ugh, ANOTHER cis man playing a trans woman! Idgaf if she’s pre/non-op, trans women playing trans women FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE. Jeffrey Tambor is one of my favorite actors and the show looks like it is going to nail the whole coming out trans thing, but I’m just tired of cis men playing trans women.
That said, this looks really, really good (the line at the end of the trailer hit home really hard). I wonder why a show about a Jewish trans woman coming out would hit with me lol.
To this show’s credit, and I’m totally with you about trans women playing trans women, they’ve otherwise bent over backwards to get as many trans voices involved with this show as they possibly can. I was approached on a few occasions even just to play background roles which I couldn’t because of my schedule, but they sought out authentic trans people for all those parts, and when they were staffing up for off-screen crew they reached out looking for trans people as well. Tambor’s character isn’t just pre-op but she’s actually just freshly coming out at the start of the series, in the original pilot (which has been re-shot) she’s presenting as male for most of it. But when she goes to a support group, every other trans person is authentic.
Give it a chance, I think they’re doing it right.
dat practical armor
I love every aspect of this.
NO you guys don’t understand, the entire book is like this. They tried to cram in all sorts of representation of different races and the art is gorgeous and it’s GREAT! The picture for a spellcaster is a female human who is wearing BAGGY, NON-SEXUALIZED CLOTHING AND NO MAKEUP because she’s in a dungeon, she doesn’t have time to do her hair cmon.
Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)
When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.
I’m really glad I read that.
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.