Netflix’s “Nimona” is the trans allegory this world needs. It almost didn’t get made.

It wasn’t easy to get Nimona made. The beloved graphic novel, created by trans author ND Stevenson, was optioned way back in 2015 by Fox to become an animated feature film. The film was nearly 75% complete when the Disney-Fox merger occurred in 2021. Blue Sky, the studio working on Nimona, shut down. Along with it went Nimona, destined to never see the light of day.

But in 2022, Netflix surprised fans with news that the company, alongside Annapurna Pictures, had revived the project. Nimona is now available to stream, and it’s nothing short of a miracle. Because the film is a powerful trans allegory that’s come along when its audience needs it most.

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Finding queer characters in mainstream animated movies has never been easy. Most of the biggest animation studios keep their queer characters on the margins – if they’re allowed to appear at all. It took Disney 61 films to have its first gay protagonist: Ethan Cade in 2022’s Strange World. The film received barely any marketing (especially for a Disney film) and wound up being one of the studio’s least-seen and least financially successful films.

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Other studios don’t fare much better. Over Pixar’s 27 films, only two characters in Onward and Lightyear are queer. In Onward it didn’t amount to more than a Cyclops mentioning she had a wife (she also says “It gets better”). In Lightyear, at least the character shares an on-screen kiss with her partner. Previously, there were blink-and-you’ll-miss-it lesbian couples in Finding Dory and Toy Story 4, but a single frame of two women together doesn’t exactly help anyone feel seen.

Other studios fare even worse. Illumination has yet to introduce an openly-LGBTQ+ character, though The Super Mario Bros. Movie has a character in drag, which is technically more than nothing. DreamWorks, which has produced over 40 animated movies, has Gobber, from the How To Train Your Dragon franchise. In the second film, he says “This is why I never married. This, and one other reason.” That’s it.

It’s only even remotely obvious if you read a self-congratulating article about DreamWorks getting their first gay character, and it feels very much like queerbaiting. Their most recent film, Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken, does have a character wearing a rainbow bowtie (and other rainbow-based paraphernalia), but that’s about as close as they’ve come to talking about queer issues in animation.

In nearly 150 films from the major American animation studios, there has been one (!) LGBTQ+ main protagonist. So it’s no underestimation to say that having a movie like Nimona on a major streaming platform is incredibly significant for young queer audiences and especially young trans people. While Nimona doesn’t explicitly say she’s trans, there’s a clear allegory about the trans experience reflected within her character.

Nimona (Chloe Grace Moretz) is a shapeshifter. She’s roamed the world for hundreds of years in search of purpose. Her abilities make her incredibly powerful – she can heal herself, which makes it incredibly difficult to die. We don’t know what Nimona’s true state is, but she spends most of her time in the body of a young teenage girl. But she can be anything – a rhinoceros, a whale, a dragon, another person, you name it.

Nimona has spent her life in search of her true identity. In fact, she feels trapped in her life as a girl. The film focuses on her life and her relationship with Ballister Boldheart (Riz Ahmed), a once adored soldier shunned from society after someone took control of his weapon and killed the beloved queen, in front of the entire kingdom.

Ballister is openly gay, a shift from the source graphic novel. While it was easy to infer a relationship between Ballister and his rival Ambrosius Goldenheart (Eugene Yang), the film makes it clear that they’re in a bonafide relationship, even sharing a tender kiss in the opening minutes. (Tellingly, former Blue Sky employees claimed Disney had “concerns” with that very kiss.)

Ballister also knows what it’s like to be accepted for who he is – something that Nimona has never found. Though he’s now shunned, he was once loved by his boyfriend and was about to become an adored knight. He felt the warm embrace of society, if only for a brief moment. But Nimona has never felt that; she’s spent her life branded as an outcast, an outright villain.

But why, exactly, is this quirky shapeshifter considered a villain? Well, the futuristic medieval kingdom where the film takes place is ruled by The Institution of Law Enforcement and Heroics, a distinctly conservative government. They keep the delicate class systems intact by fearmongering: promising to keep evil monsters away, even if nobody really knows what, or who, these monsters actually are. But the fear of the unknown – the fear of the different – is enough to sustain their operation.

Nimona embraces villainy because she’s been rejected by society. It’s the only way she feels she can thrive in a society that rejects her purely because of the perceived danger she presents and the fear stoked by the Institution.

“Once everyone sees you as a villain, that’s what you are. They only see you one way, no matter how hard you try,” Nimona tells Ballister with a heavy heart. It’s clear Nimona doesn’t wish to be branded as an outsider, and certainly not an evil. She just wants to fit in.

The beauty of the film lies in the burgeoning relationship between Ballister and Nimona, two outcasts who come together to prove Ballister’s innocence. Ballister is initially stunned to discover Nimona is a shapeshifter – that is, after all, the kind of thing he’s been told his whole life to fear. But Nimona not only saves his life but shows she’s an incredibly reliable ally. When the pair formally agree to partner up, Nimona shifts into a shark to shake Ballister’s hand. He responds, igniting the following exchange:

“Can you just be you, please?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Girl you.”

“But I’m not a girl. I’m a shark.”

It’s not a subtle metaphor, and that’s what makes it feel so powerful. Here, Nimona clearly rejects that she’s female, shattering the gender binary. It’s powerful for any queer person watching; seeing the titular character of a major animated film gleefully celebrating their non-binary identity feels like a truly magical moment.

Later, Ballister asks Nimona what its like to shapeshift. “I feel worse when I don’t do it,” she says. “Like my insides are itchy. You know that second right before you sneeze? That’s close to it. Then I shapeshift, and I’m free.”

“What if you held it in?” Ballister responds.

“I’d die… I wouldn’t die die.”, Nimona explains. “I just sure wouldn’t be living.”

If there was any doubt of Nimona’s transness, this scene dispels it beautifully. Shapeshifting isn’t a hobby to Nimona; instead, it’s an essential part of her existence.

In many ways, Ballister himself is a functional metaphor for society’s relationship with trans people. At first, he’s baffled by Nimona’s desire to be something than what he sees as Nimona’s authentic self – a teenage girl. But Ballister, unlike the kingdom’s rulers, makes the effort to see beyond his own understanding. Instead of fearing Nimona, he wants to understand her. It’s not always an easy road – at one point, his misunderstanding of Nimona, fueled by everything he grew up with, almost leads to the kingdom’s destruction. But Ballister ultimately learns to understand, love, and see Nimona for exactly who she is: a glorious trans shapeshifter.

In a time where trans lives are under attack with legislation all over America designed to make their lives irrevocably worse, a film like Nimona feels more important than ever. It spreads a beautiful message of acceptance – to get to know and understand who people are, looking beyond what they appear to be on the surface. The answer to fighting ignorance isn’t more ignorance; it’s knowledge and compassion.