I read a lot of contemporary literature, I watch as many films as I can, more series than I should, and I read more newspapers than I would like. But in all these genres I observe a common denominator: that of the victim as the protagonist of contemporary history, be it in novels, films or political parties. Different voices that share the place from which they legitimize their discourse: the communication of trauma to the public or the electorate. And while I don't judge whether this trend produces better or worse works, the truth is that I'm starting to miss new perspectives. Maybe that's why I'm so happy with the success of 20,000 Species of Bees, Estíbaliz Urresola's debut film, nominated for 15 Goya Awards: a story about the search for gender identity, told through intimacy rather than trauma. A small revolution.
Because if I tell you that 20,000 species of bees tell the story of an eight-year-old trans girl, what do you imagine? A girl's childhood or a victim's? The discovery of an identity or that of trauma? You'll find that you don't need to have seen the movie to answer. And that's because we've become accustomed to tragedies shaping everyday life in order to gain attention, legitimacy, and even truth. Sometimes I read (or hear myself say) that a book or a film is good because it touches, hurts, disturbs or denounces. For in a political context in which both beliefs and ideologies (and even intellectual authority) have become less important, legitimacy no longer lies with social class or the revolution, but with the status of the victim.
However, 20,000 species of bees led me to the conclusion that perhaps the most engaging art is precisely that which dares to penetrate from the delicacy of everyday life into the intimacy of problems. Because to understand a conflict – whether intimate or political, where they differ – you have to understand what happens every day in this space that is so difficult to navigate and name. And from there you are able to move with what has neither challenge nor conflict nor struggle nor victory nor even a protagonist. And so it turns out that, to tell the story of Lucía (the trans girl played by the stunning Sofía Otero), Estíbaliz Urresola invades the intimacy of her mother, her brother, her sister, her father, her grandmother, her aunt City… And along the way, it reminds us that the protagonists of a story are not only those who suffer from it, but also those who love them, their relatives, their friends, also their past and the spaces in which they living together.
We are all in life and we all have to learn. And in this film, this lesson reaches an existential proposal that goes beyond the protagonist's learning and obliges us all. Maybe that's why he succeeds in bringing us closer together despite our differences. I think maybe that's why it's called that: 20,000 species of bees, because it means different ways of being the same thing. And I hope that this narrative spills over into other stories, especially political ones, that are so lacking in imagination and empathy. I wish, for example, that Netanyahu sees her and understands that her status as a victim does not give her the right to be the sole protagonist of her story. May we all feel that we can only think differently if we see ourselves differently. And what we need.
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