Godzilla is trans?
Why the city-crushing monster appeals to trans and non-binary people.
In 1954, Godzilla made his first ever appearance on the big screen - in fact, any screen - and set off a chain reaction evolution of monster films, war allegories, and visual effects. Emerging from the ocean after nuclear testing awakened him from his slumber, gigantic, wide-eyed and raging, Godzilla was the perfect metaphor for man’s hubris (and, sidenote, a GREAT design for selling action figures).
As the years went by and studios started to pump out more Godzilla films than you could shoot a heat ray at, the Kaiju’s origin story changed. Was he a deep-sea creature mutated by man, or a centuries-old demigod laying dormant until his next chance to defend the natural world arose? Was he an uncontrollable allegory for nuclear weapons, or simply a burnt-out single dad? Could it be that he was all of these things, and also, somehow, a … trans icon??
I will elaborate, I promise. Just bear with me. As director Ishiro Honda and other filmmakers kept exploring the limitations of the Godzilla IP, more diverse audiences were exposed to the King of the Kaiju, and with that, the monster’s meaning morphed.
While most people felt terror the first time they saw Godzilla, some people felt sympathy, or even an affinity with the beast. Among them are trans and non-binary folk who may even see a reflection of themselves in the angry, long-suffering and oft misunderstood figure.
Why is that? Well, first of all, you need to know that monster movies have been appealing to trans, and queer folk at large, for decades. It only takes a surface level understanding of the way LGBTQIA+ people have been ‘othered’ over time to see why that sense of affinity occurs. Monsters are always the ‘them’, never the ‘us’, always on the outskirts of society, never behave in ‘acceptable’ ways, and are othered for things they cannot change, i.e. the way they look. Sound familiar?
In most stories, the role of a monster is to act as a threat to normative society; an obstacle to their goals, or a punishment for them (often it’s both). Through enacting that role, the monsters represent our societal fears - fears about things changing beyond our control. In these narratives, the monster is often an unambiguously evil force, and the hero’s only choice is to slay the beast.
But Godzilla has played many roles in his 70 years: a villain, a hero, a divine warning, an environmental protector, an unstoppable wave of destruction … and a trans and non-binary icon. Even Honda himself said of his creation that “Monsters are tragic beings. They are born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy.” A being born into the wrong kind of body that doesn’t mean to be evil, but is regardless framed that way by society? Sounds a lot like a metaphor for being trans.
In fact, if you keep this quote in mind, then I think the majority of Godzilla films can be framed as trans allegories. It’s even more apparent in the recent franchise additions:
In the 2016 film Shin Godzilla, Godzilla does not start out in the form we all know and love. He emerges from the Pacific Ocean as something akin to a half-baked grade 5 clay project. The moment he is on land, he starts to undergo a process of rapid, unstoppable mutation that dramatically changes his body and his abilities. The scientists monitoring him note that this transformation is causing him great pain, and that he has no control over it. This sounds incredibly similar to a lot of trans folks’ experiences with puberty, and the lingering dysmorphia that comes with it - the rapid changes, the shifting of ability, and most of all, the pain.
As usual, the monster in Shin is taken down by society. Actually, the government and military are usually the ones to defeat Godzilla, which certainly adds more fruit to the trans reading if you think about the ways in which governments try to control queer bodies.**
The trans allegory also works in the films where Godzilla is a hero to society. In films like Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla (1974), and Giant Monsters All-Out Attack (2001), the government has figured out how to control and utilise Godzilla to the point where he now defends earth on their behalf. In the real world, we’ve also seen that structural animosity towards trans people can suddenly disappear the moment they become useful to the greater goals of capitalism. As long as they don’t, y’know shove the whole ‘trans’ thing down our throats. Society can only go so far!
On that note, you’re probably familiar with the current wave of transphobic rhetoric sweeping the internet - and if you’re not, well, you probably live in the middle of the ocean or something. That sounds nice! I think that the environment of fear that transphobes create around transgender and non-binary people just trying to live their lives is exactly the sort of thing that would be perfect to manifest into a horror movie monster.
Many transgender individuals currently face a society that continues to marginalise and criminalise them due to fear. No wonder we sympathise with the Kaiju - he’s constantly attacked by the government for the crime of existing! Go ahead and crush those skyscrapers, G-Zills!
Okay, yeah, he killed a bunch of people … but maybe he destroyed Tokyo because he was just trying to get to the bathroom! Nobody ever tried to talk to Godzilla, so how would you know?
In 2020, a YouTube user named Cressa Maeve Áine made a stop-motion short called Coming Out. In it, Cressa uses Godzilla, Minilla, and Anguirus figurines to tell a story of a young child coming out as trans to their parent (in this case, Minilla coming out to their adoptive father, Godzilla). It’s a beautiful little short that communicates so much without any words. When a tear rolls down Minilla’s face after being wholeheartedly accepted as a girl by Godzilla, I cry too.
This video has had over 700k views, and was even shared by the official Toho Godzilla Twitter account. Not only is it nice to see Godzila fans engaging with the monster in this way, it’s also incredibly heartwarming to know that the people responsible for his creation approve of a queer take on the kaiju.
On the auspicious occasion of Godzilla’s 70th birthday, I’m thinking about all the trans folk out there who aren’t sure if they’ll make it to their 70th birthdays. I want you to know that you are loved, that there are kind people in the world, and that things will get better. Skree-onk!
** I want to note that Shin Godzilla already acts as a strong, intentional metaphor for natural disaster and government incompetence, which is not an interpretation I intend to invalidate with my trans reading (this goes for all the other films, too). The introduction of Godzilla as a trans allegory is simply an additional interpretation.
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Silvi Vann-Wall is a film critic, entertainment journalist, and improv comedian from Melbourne/Naarm. They have a passion for all things pop culture, and anything frog related. Their current role is Film Content Lead at ScreenHub.com.au.
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This was EXACTLY what I needed to see today. And that Godzilla movie was maybe the most adorable thing ever! Thanks.
Okay the transaction sweater was the icing o. The cake monster!!!!!