When I discovered my transness, it was like discovering a new world. I was Alice falling into Wonderland, Dorothy landing in Oz, Lucy happening onto Narnia. This new world was a playground for my femininity and an oasis for my fear. There I was free, beautiful and whole. But like all explorers of lands of wonder, I returned to a reality that denied the existence of my special world and demanded that I conform to its rules.
Black trans femmes are from the future. We exist in bodies that the world has not yet evolved to accommodate. We speak a language that has yet to be written. We claim freedoms that are not yet accessible. But when we create art, we pull pieces of that future into the present—disrupting, reshaping and unraveling the confines of the modern world.
It was years before I realized that the world I had discovered was the future—where my body was unregulated by government officials, where my womanhood didn’t require a diagnosis, where my realness didn’t determine my safety. Only through creating and experiencing art by other Black trans femmes was I able to access that future. And today, I am devoted to creating spaces to share that art with the world in hopes of moving us all closer to a collective future where Black trans femmes are free.
Through our art, we do more than resist restraints—we vision them out of possibility. Art allows us all to imagine and explore ways of being in alternative worlds and has the power to reshape our sociopolitical consciousness to think beyond pragmatism and oppression.
Our liberation comes from within and is expressed by building, creating, dancing, singing, rapping, sculpting, painting, directing, producing, writing and living. And our expressions deserve to be revered and celebrated.
Through our art, we do more than resist restraints, we vision them out of possibility. Art allows us all to imagine and explore ways of being in alternative worlds and has the power to reshape our sociopolitical consciousness.
Black Trans Femmes Resisting Oppression Through Art
Many may be familiar with vogue as its popularity has recently risen to become an international phenomenon thanks to the work of artists like Leiomy Maldonado and Dashaun Wesley and shows like Pose and Legendary. But the origins of vogue were birthed out of a desire for Black queer and trans folks to channel a level of femininity and sexual expression that they weren’t safe to express in their day-to-day lives. In the wake of the murder of O’Shae Sibley, a professional dancer, it is clear that our safety is still inaccessible. But vogue remains an act of resistance for our community, and an act of conjuring a freedom that many of us sadly may never experience.
In his legendary ballroom chant, the iconic Jack Mizrahi repeats, “She vogued to be free.” Our movements command the room much like Ballroom Icon Sinia Alaia. At a time when trans women were forced to hide their identities in order to survive, Alaia exhibits a level of control of her femininity, her body and the crowd that continues to inspire new generations of femme queens. She vogues to free us all.
But vogue remains an act of resistance for our community, and an act of conjuring a freedom that many of us sadly may never experience.
In a different realm, Eve Harlowe’s digital art transforming Black trans women into anamorphic creatures brings forth a vision of Afro-futuristic beauty and wonder; creates a world in which the truest of beauty exists in the depths of Blackness; and merges the human and digital worlds in what can be read as a commentary on the elusiveness of authenticity in the digital age and a glimpse into a future in which the human and digital exist on the same plane. Harlowe is channeling our humanity as a sign of liberation.
Performance artist Mila Jam covers her naked body, the same body that is both feared and fetishized in our society, in paint that reads “Stop Killing Us,” bringing attention to the genocidal murder of Black trans women in the U.S. and abroad, forcing both the fetishizers and the fearers to digest her body in a new way, and demanding an end to interpersonal and state-sanctioned violence against Black trans women.
Kiyan Williams’ Ruins of Empire recreates the Statue of Freedom as an ancient ruin made of Earthen materials, bringing the viewer’s consciousness to the erosion of the American Dream of “liberty for all” and calls for an imagining of a future beyond the oppression of the American Empire.
In her song “Urgency,” poet, storyteller, and performer Linda La stresses the immediacy of the need for trans liberations as she conjures the voices of trans women present and past and repeats “my sisters are literally dying” over an uptempo house beat produced by DJ Byrell the Great.
The lists of our contributions in the arts go on and on and deserve to be highlighted and centered. Through our work, Black trans femme artists not only provide a window into our vision of the future, we bear witness to the world around us and reflect on its shortcomings and challenges.
Our contributions are critical to chronicling our contemporary moment and to imagining and conjuring a future far beyond the boundaries of the present.
We watch and catalog the injustices, the heartache, and the violence that far too often characterize our experiences. When our visibility is manipulated to spread lies and hatred that threaten to erase us, we intervene through art—forcing audiences to reckon with truths that may make them uncomfortable. Our contributions are critical to chronicling our contemporary moment and to imagining and conjuring a future far beyond the boundaries of the present. It allows trans people to see ourselves and to dream of our own possibilities.
We are here to find our own freedom. Our art challenges, and ultimately frees, viewers—if they allow it to lead us all to liberation.
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