Film Summary & Using This Guide

FILM SUMMARY

In the small Mexican coastal village of El Roblito, 16-year-old Ñoño lives what seems to be an idyllic existence with his loving family. But he holds a secret. Defying gender norms, Ñoño works up the courage to tell his family he wants to live his life as a woman. Yet when violence interrupts a community celebration, he must face the reality of a country shrouded in machismo and transphobia.

USING THIS GUIDE

This guide is an invitation to dialogue. It is based on a belief in the power of human connection and designed for people who want to use Things We Dare Not Do to engage family, friends, classmates, colleagues, and communities. In contrast to initiatives that foster debates in which participants try to convince others that they are right, this document envisions conversations undertaken in a spirit of openness in which people try to understand one another and expand their thinking by sharing viewpoints and listening actively.

The discussion prompts are intentionally crafted to help a wide range of audiences think more deeply about the issues in the film. Rather than attempting to address them all, choose one or two that best meet your needs and interests. And be sure to leave time to consider taking action. Planning next steps can help people leave the room feeling energized and optimistic, even in instances when conversations have been difficult.

For more detailed event planning and facilitation tips, visit communitynetwork.amdoc.org.

LETTER FROM THE FILMMAKER

I had a secret in my life and I wanted to go in search of a place where I could talk about it. I thought that talking about the secrets would make me grow up, become more mature or that maybe it would be the other way around, that maturing and growing up would make me talk about the secrets.

The film just came to be, it wrote itself while making the film. At first, I only knew I wanted to film something that would feel like a process of growing up. I thought that filming with kids in a space where you could get to feel first-hand the violence we live in Mexico would allow me to be close to the transformation process of a coming of age.

I got to Roblito, and after almost four years of being close to those who wake up, work and sleep there, I began to feel and understand that the waves of violence in that town are awful, painful and traumatizing but everyone around is keeping up with their daily random routine.

Ñoño grabbed our attention. She was the oldest of the pack of kids, and I felt particular empathy towards her, maybe because we both rejected the masculinity of the adults from the town. She’s the only teenager that hasn’t gotten out of that place, the only adolescent that keeps hanging out with the kids.

We developed a friendship, and thanks to that I noticed that she was also keeping a secret: she dresses as a woman when nobody’s watching. I think that the fact that we both were keeping a secret from our parents brought us closer despite our different ages and issues. It made us want to listen to each other. I talked to her about the contradiction of not being able to talk publicly about my boyfriend, and she talked to me about his dream of dressing as a woman. That was the beginning of a long journey of talks, moments, and dreams shared between us that got captured by the camera, and therefore, the film.

All the time I had ethical conflicts during the process of making the film. I worked with children and tried to be clear with them and also with their parents, all the time. That was the only way I found myself comfortable doing this movie. To me, it was important not to only be fair as a filmmaker, but also to be fair as a human being. For example, there is a sequence where I am in the middle of an intimate family confession and I was filming at the time. Suddenly the situation became so intimate that I was feeling out of place and I asked the family for permission to go out and leave them alone talking without a camera. It was they who decided for me to stay. Because they know me, they knew my inner conflicts. I was trying to find out how to be brave enough to find acceptance in the authority structure (family in this case). And Ñoño was doing so by asking her parents for permission to dress as a woman. And they knew how important it was for me to not only be there but also to film as well.

Things we dare not do is the outcome of this journey of dreams, accidents, and experiences. It’s a film that seeks to make people feel more compassionate towards the complicated process of coming of age.
—Bruno Santamaria Razo