Will Ferrell's Netflix Documentary 'Will & Harper' Is Flawed But Critical for Cis People | Will Ferrell

LWe admit it: Cisgender people are really curious about us trans women. You want to know things like: What's it like to have a surgeon rearrange your genitals? How did you know all this time that you were really a girl? Does it suck to have to be on the flip side of sexism now?

For our part, trans women are also curious about cisgender people. We want to know things like: Do you really think I'm female, or do you think I'm just a deluded guy in a dress? If I try to drink a beer in your bar, will you violently attack me? Will I ever be allowed to use a public toilet again?

These two forms of curiosity collide in the documentary “Will & Harper” in ways that are problematic, uncomfortable, and occasionally satisfying and even touching. It's about actor Will Ferrell, who realizes that his longtime friend and SNL co-worker is not the man he always thought she was. No, she's actually a trans woman named Harper Steele, and they're going to go on a road trip through the red parts of America to find out what their friendship is like now.

“Will & Harper” is partly about Steele figuring out which parts of America she can actually be physically and emotionally safe in after medically transitioning her gender, and it's also about Ferrell learning to live with one living together with a transgender girlfriend. The best part is how bluntly it expresses all the uncomfortable emotions, glaring missteps, and acts of genuine kindness that are inevitably part of this process.

As someone who did this dance so many times with so many cis friends so many years ago, I really empathize with Steele's vulnerability, as much as I cringe when I see how often Ferrell does to her things that would never be done to you should trans woman. Will & Harper portray their learning journeys as two sides of the same coin – which, to a degree, they are – but it's important to note that the stakes here are extremely unequal: Ferrell's power and privilege absolutely puts Steele's in the dust Shadow.

Midway through the film, Ferrell bluntly asks Steele, “How are your boobs?” and then asks her for details about what it was like waking up after breast enlargement surgery. He then essentially asks her if she's going to get a vagina. I honestly can't think of anything Steele could ask of the cis world that even comes close to this. And if she ever tries, it could be an extremely dangerous moment for her.

Later, when Ferrell and Steele are at the Grand Canyon, a random woman asks Steele how long she knew she was a girl. It turns out that this woman wants to know because she is a therapist – in the 1980s she had a client who was probably a trans woman in the early stages of coming out, and she is guilty, as she was with that client has been dealt with.

In those moments, I burned with outrage at how these people were using Steele for their own gratification, and I longed for her to set limits on me. That's not what Steele does – throughout the film she's willing to answer any questions the CIS world throws at her, and she even gives Ferrell complete freedom to ask her anything. She does not show that she feels the sense of violation that many of us feel at such personal intrusions.

I felt like that once too. I gave in to so many things that the cis world demanded of me for their own sake, because I was hurting so much, because I desperately wanted to be seen and heard, because I felt like I had to do anything to be this person, that they held to please. My future is in my hands. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if I was right to compromise myself so much – but the fact is, I never had a real choice in the matter. It is extremely difficult to go through a transition with one's dignity intact, especially because very few people consider that a man trying to transition into a woman finds himself in a much more disempowered position than they are.

Steele says she was about a year and a half into her transition, which I remember was an extremely delicate time in my own process. There is a unique vulnerability in feminizing your looks and personality and enjoying the world's approval. You're doing the one thing you've been absolutely yelled at – your whole life – never to do. You are going against your ultimate survival instinct because that is the only way.

The people around you deal with it as best they can, but you will inevitably suffer great harm in the process. And yet you always open yourself up to more. Because you really want to know what they think of you and you want nothing more than to fit into their world again. I understand the strong desire to make yourself understood to the world, to tell it the story of your life that has been hidden for decades, and to share all the pain that you have hidden. When I was watching Will & Harper, I really wished Ferrell had stopped and asked himself why his girlfriend seemed so eager to tell him every little personal detail of her life, and why she was willing to go along with it exposing themselves to dangerous situation after dangerous situation on their road trip. They're the questions I wish my cis friends had asked themselves when I was in the thick of things.

One of the reasons transitioning is so risky is that you're on the edge of humanity for a few years and there's no guarantee you'll ever get back in. I was one of the lucky ones who managed to get my passport back into humanity, and now I have the great privilege of being able to decide who exactly is safe enough to tell about my past. Those who are not so lucky must do their best to find a place in a world in which we are a widely misunderstood, stigmatized and increasingly vilified 1% of the population. This is an extremely difficult task that leads to unemployment, depression, homelessness and suicide.

Will & Harper portrays Steele in a moment where she is trying to find her way back to humanity. Partly it's about learning to deal with bars full of rowdy Donald Trump supporters, but fundamentally it's about finding safety around friends and family trying to deal with it. This is important for the cisgender world to see, and Will & Harper do their best to portray it in a thoughtful and heartfelt way. It's a film with some blind spots, but it's an honest, valid attempt. I really hope that those who see this film are willing to see it.