Kimberley Reed’s Seat 31: Zooey Zephyr follows the story of Rep. Zooey Zephyr, the first trans woman elected to Montana’s House of Representatives, as she faces immense backlash from her Republican colleagues for speaking out against Senate Bill 99, which prohibits minors from receiving gender-affirming medical care in the State.

In the opening shot to the film, Zephyr warns the Republican representatives about to vote in favour of Bill 99 of the dire consequences of their actions:

“I hope the next time there's an invocation, when you bow your heads in prayer, you see the blood on your hands.”

The image of “blood on your hands,” while not a rare sight in State politics, served as grounds for the Montana Freedom Caucus to call on the House to censure Zephyr, in a statement which also referred to her using masculine pronouns.

After being removed from her seat in the House, Zephyr elects to work from a bench in one of the Capitol’s hallways, the eponymous Seat 31.

This doesn’t seem to satisfy her detractors, however, and the film sees an escalation of harassment against Zephyr and her loved ones.

First, members of the public (including the House majority leader’s own mother) occupy the bench she was using. Later on, her girlfriend, journalist Erin Reed, is nearly SWATed based on false allegations of kidnapping.

Most striking throughout Seat 31 is the unrelenting optimism, politeness, and goodwill Zephyr shows in the face of attempts at silencing her. The opening scene is truly the only instance where any sort of aggression emanates from her. For the rest of the film, Zephyr is like a ray of sunshine to those around her. 

Wholesome images of her relationship with Reed show her squealing in excitement at her proposal ring, and later proposing to her in the middle of the city of Missoula’s Queer prom.

Even to the perpetrators of her censure, Zephyr is endlessly polite. The only comment she provides on the women occupying the hallway bench describes them as “lovely people.”

“Beauty and grace,” she says to the camera after shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with one of the Republicans who voted for her censure.

Finally, speaking at a rally in her name, she claims to see “a glint, a vision of what Montana could be,” “despite the cruelty of that legislature.”

When Zephyr’s coworkers, the legislative body of her State, attempt to remove her from public life, all she sees is hope for the betterment of the State. She shakes hands, flashes her trademark smile at people who, time and time again, express disgust at her very existence.

The protagonist of Seat 31 doesn’t feel like a human being. She substitutes genuine emotion for an unmoving, joyful poker face, and encourages terrified trans youth to adopt her own outward stoicism.

Whom the film follows is not a person, but the archetype of the trans public figure, the image which public life ultimately demands of Zooey Zephyr.

Seat 31: Zooey Zephyr, only leaves me with one question—why? What does anyone get out of embodying this impossible character?

I am confident that the first answer I would get out of Zephyr would be the attainment of rights, true equality. Indeed, the trans public figure is a sort of martyr on the route to inclusion.

Thanks to the sacrifice of people like Zooey Zephyr, trans Americans may one day access their hormone prescriptions and desired surgeries without fear that a Republican supermajority might take them away the very next day.

Thanks to them, trans American citizens might one day be able to join the military again, and defend their new rights.

ReFrame Film Festival will screen Zooey Zephyr on January 24th 2025 at 12:00 PM at Showplace. Tickets can be found here.