When a child reveals who they truly are on the inside, how does a parent set aside their own expectations to help them become their most authentic self?

Set against the Northern landscape of Yellowknife, Sheona McDonald’s new documentary, Into Light, captures a season of change as a mother and child navigate the complexities of gender identity together. As elemental changes parallel this extraordinary journey, the return of brighter days uncovers a confident and social little girl with an encyclopedic knowledge of dinosaurs, a deep love of animals, and a parent who fully embraces this magical person.

When a child reveals who they truly are on the inside, how does a parent set aside their own expectations to help them become their most authentic self?

Set against the crystalline Northern landscape of Yellowknife, Sheona McDonald’s new documentary, Into Light, captures a season of change as a mother and child navigate the complexities of gender identity together.

The film offers one family’s unique perspective on learning how to accept, honour and support one another during a time of intimate personal growth and transition. Seemingly simple items—a sparkly silver dress, hair barrettes—lead to a more complex navigation of name and gender markers. Coming out in school and in the community requires care and advocacy on everything from pronouns to playdates.

Elemental changes—winter into spring, darkness into light—parallel this extraordinary journey. The return of brighter days uncovers a confident and social little girl with an encyclopedic knowledge of dinosaurs, a deep love of animals, and a parent who fully embraces this magical person.

Two-liner

When a child reveals who they truly are on the inside, how does a parent set aside their own expectations to help them become their most authentic self? Sheona McDonald’s documentary captures a season of change as a mother and child navigate the complexities of gender identity together.

One-liner     

Sheona McDonald’s documentary captures a season of change as a mother and child navigate the complexities of gender identity together.

How did making this film change your own perceptions about gender identity and experience?

The making of the film itself didn’t cause a significant shift in my own perceptions about gender identity and experience; however, I wanted to make this film because watching this family go through this unique and powerful experience did. I, like many others I’ve spoken to on this matter, may have questioned how a three-year-old could possibly understand, communicate or even know what gender was and be insightful and brave and cognizant enough to understand and explain their own experience. However, because I know this child, I could see clearly and completely that she not only understood what gender was, but she had a sense of clarity about her own self that was innate, powerful, simple and without question.

When a child is born we ask, “Is it a boy or a girl?” and we perpetuate that question throughout our lives; we make it important. Through the process of my experiences in the last few years, working with people who are transgender, I can see why it is both so important and doesn’t matter at all.

I wanted to make this film because of my shift of perceptions, and my shifting perspectives came from knowing people and caring about their experiences.

In capturing the experience of both parent and child in your film, how did you create a safe space for everyone to tell their story?

We had an advantage here, I think. This is a family I know. This is a mother who lived with me when she was pregnant and a child I have known since her birth. These are people I had a trusted relationship with. It was their choice to pursue and tell this story; I just had to turn up and listen. Over the course of the three years it took to make this film, we wrote together, we talked together, we shared, and we made sure to keep an open line of communication.

A safe space was a requirement and was of utmost priority. Asking and checking in, ensuring a sympathetic, understanding and kind crew. This was truly a collaboration and I don’t think that anyone who worked on it was untouched by the story.

Why was it important to you that the identities of both parent and child were kept concealed in the film?

The film was originally conceived to just share the parent’s perspective of this journey, but as the child got older she was excited to share and participate—this became part of the conversation.

We understood we were not in a position to make a decision about exposing the identity of a young child and that she was too young to consent to what it would mean to reveal herself to a universal audience at a young age. She may choose to identify herself with this film at some point, but that will have to be her choice, not ours. As an extension, to show her mother’s face would be to ‘out’ her daughter, and this was something we were not comfortable with.

The concern I had about this, as a director, was that an audience would not have faces to connect to; that some of the intimacy would be lost.

Simon Schneider (DP) was helpful here. Often when the subject of a film is ‘hidden,’ the face is dark and shadowed and there is an element of shame or danger. We wanted to keep it light and beautiful, connective and exposed.

In the end, I feel that the storytelling is strong, the emotions real, the love present and accessible—the images beautiful, the landscape a character that adds breadth and depth. It is intimate and simple… just as we’d hoped it would be.

Your film takes a very intimate approach to the idea of gender being a spectrum as opposed to a binary system. Was it important to embed these larger social changes within a more personal narrative?

Personally, as a filmmaker and storyteller, I think the best (and sometimes only way) to communicate complex stories and challenging concepts is through very personal stories and experiences. It is easier for people to glance over a broad, sweeping narrative; to question an idea or perspective and poke holes in a theory or large idea. It is much harder for people to look at a person who is passionate, hurting, loving, struggling, working—someone who is in an experience—and to write them off.

As more individuals are expressing and sharing their own spectrums of gender and identity, young people seem to be more able and willing to embrace and share and understand and accept those experiences and narratives.

Ultimately, my hope for this film is that, soon, it becomes irrelevant. I hope that a future generation watches this and says, “So, who cares, why is this relevant?”

The northern landscape of Yellowknife not only provides the film with a powerful aesthetic but also reflects natural cycles of change. Was this sense of landscape an important part of telling the story?

Yes, the landscape was intrinsic to the story from the get-go. It was conceived as an experimental film to some extent and, from very early on, the metaphors of darkness, light, warmth, cold, long shadows, isolation, etc. were clear. I think it is worth noting that this child was born during a time of transition in this place, where that transition is key to how people live. Winter was becoming spring. Darkness was giving way to light. Shadows were everywhere. Cold would quickly become warmth. The North is a character in this film and sets the tone, provides a place to think, breathe and reflect.