Whenever I feel impossible, I reconnect with my trancestors. This is a photo taken in 1940 of someone arrested in New York City for cross-dressing. As they step out of the police van they strike a pose for the camera, smiling.
What did it mean to smile in the face of criminalization? To pose during attempted disappearance? There is a remarkable presence and self-knowledge here. There is an embrace of self-worth and beauty. A recognition that power comes from within. Everything else is secondary darling!
There is no legitimacy to a law that is anti-fabulous. Despite being arrested dozens of times simply for existing in public, my trancestors continued to go outside. The newspapers would often report the names and identities of people arrested for “female impersonation.” But my trancestors continued to go outside.
Many people couldn’t take the scrutiny, the loss of power. But some did. Because they weren’t waiting for freedom, they were living it. They understood they were already free. The way that they lived their lives. Adorned their bodies. Carried themselves. Made freedom real for everyone else.
Cartoonist Lynda Barry once said: “We don’t create a fantasy world to escape reality, we create it to be able to stay.” My transcestors made every moment on Earth aesthetically striking. Such that they found gold in it, being alive.
There is a continual misreading of camp and drag as superficial. But I can think of nothing more potent than a smile that helps you survive. Finding levity in gravity. A sliver of delight amidst despair. Day dreaming yourself into existence.
Photo Credit: “The Gay Deceiver,” by photographer Arthur Fellig (known as Weegee)
