People on the ol’ interwebs have been pretty mean about Cowboy Bebop. That “blackmail” line isn’t any better in context, but as long as you know what you&rsqu🀅o;re in for - Robert Rodriquez without the gore, basically - it’s a good time. It’s🐻 not the greatest show of the year, but it’s not as bad as that one clip of Ed has you all thinking either. In any case, I’m not here to talk about the show as a whole right now, but to point out the fantastic trans representation in the show - in some ways, it’s the closest I’ve ever seen to myself on screen.
This comes through the character of Gren, who was present in the ori🌺ginal anime, though in a less representative way. Gren wasn’t problematic, but I’d struggle to call him trans originally. Gren is a man with gynecomastia, which basically means he has breasts - this is the result of an experimental drug given to him while he is in prison. While these are an obvious female characteristic, he’s referred to by male pronouns and just se𒁏ems like a man with breasts - like that’s some kooky, futuristic thing, a way of highlighting that Bebop exists beyond our time in a way more interesting than spaceships or robots. I had no issues with the original Gren, but I didn’t particularly relate to him.
This changes with the adaption’s Gren. Here, they are played by non-binary actor Mason Alexander Park, and while Gren’s gender identity is never explicitly stated, it would be fair to assume that they are non-binary too. I’m a trans woman rather than non-binary, but there are parts of Gren I relate to more than any other rep I’ve seen on screen. With gender and gender identity being a fluid spectrum, I suspect other trans people will feel the sam🍎e way.
Trans rep has come a long way in the past decade, but the increase in trans icons is something of a double-edged sword - Nikita Dragun, Kim Petras, Trace Lysette, and Hunter Schafer are all gorgeous. It has been fantastic to see these beautiful⭕ women rise into the spotlight where decades of media has presented trans women as men in dresses for a ༺cheap laugh. The likes of Petras challenge that idea, and there’s something radical about Petras’ explicit sexual lyrics making a star of a trans woman without fetishising her transness. But Petras is five feet six, blonde, slim, and with a high pitched, breathy voice - it’s important that such typically beautiful trans women be given the spotlight, but she’s not someone I can relate to. It’s a victory for our community, not for me.
This is not to say Park/Gren are not gorgeous. Park is set to play Desire in the upcoming ada🥀ption of The Sandman, and I get it. But there are different types of gorgeousness, and I will never achieve the type of a short, slim, blonde pop star who began transition at 13. Park - and by extension, the way they play Gren - is extremely attractive. But there’s an extra layer of gendered confidence to it all. While Petras, Dragun, and the rest fit into pre-defined, cisgendered ideals of beauty, Park makes their own rules.
This is to take nothing away from Dragun, Petras, Lysette, or Schafer. All four are openly trans and have di✨scussed the struggles behind their transition at length. In a world where TERFs can “always tell,” to the point where short-haired cis women have been repeatedly chased out of their own bathrooms, having a woman like Nikita Dragun represent us is important. But characters like Gren are important too.
Gren dresses in an overtly feminine way, with dresses, corsets, and makeup. However, this is paired with short, masculine hair, and - crucially - Park’s natural, deeper speaking voice. I have never seen a feminine presentﷺing trans person with a masculine voice in media without it being played for laughs. The line between this trope and comedy is so indelible that when I first heard Gren I winced, falsely assuming that it was being played for laughs again.
I have lౠost count of the amount of times I’ve passed until I’ve spoken. So many times at restaurants, bars, shops, and anywhere else I’ve been addressed as ‘ma’am’ or ‘miss’ until
I open my mouth and confuse people. Sometimes it’s a hard swing back the other way to ‘sir’. I could voice train. I could even get vocal cord surgery. But why should I? I like my voice. I love my accent. I don’t want to have to second guess every sentence with breathing exercises. Don’t get me wrong, if I could snap my fingers and instantly sound as feminine as Ar🥃iana Grande or as sensual as Scarlett Johansson, I’d take it, but if I lived in a world where snapping my fingers changed things ♕I didn’t like about my body, I’d never stop snapping.
Cowboy Bebop isn’t going to change that - next time I go to a restaurant we’ll still play the ‘miss sir miss’ game. I💮 get it, it’s a part of reality that goes along with the choice not to voice train. But I never imagined I’d see someone so obviously like me in media. I was happy just to have trans people on screen at all - that was enough. Compared to the 20th century, the last decade has been relatively flooded with trans women in the spotlight. In all that time, none have felt like myself on screen quite as much as Gren. I suspect Cowboy Bebop won’t live all that long in our collective memories, having been doomed to never live up to the original without being given much of a chance. Thanks to Gren, I’ll never forget it.