A couple of years ago I was becoming frustrated about my inability to secure interviews with survivors of victims of homicide for another story. Then I was told by a friend that she might have someone. She told me about a friend’s situation, mentioning  as she spoke, that her friend was transgender. At the time, I had no idea what that meant, but I wanted an interview so bad I just pretended to know what that was.

To my surprise, the woman who I contacted told me ‘many,’ transgender women, were survivors of victims of homicide. Even more murdered themselves, and by men they  became entangled with. She made it sound so common, mentioning statistics that for me, just couldn’t be right. But – were.

She sent me off to Youtube, where she said I’d find others to speak to.

In between that and searching youtube I looked up the definition – but still didn’t quite get it. It wasn’t till I had watched for a while, that I kind of got it. I clicked on countless pages of folks telling of the need to transition, so their body matched their minds. None, men playing dress up, what I had concluded this was. But what blew my mind, was that men were killing these women after becoming involved with them. That they were killing off their shame. The shame of being attracted to someone controversial to them.

Something I have an unfortunate connection to.

In my own life, I often date inter-culturally.

As part of this, I often experience  men trying to hide or bury our connection, after weeks or months of us paling around or finally being intimate. They usually sever the ties by suddenly refraining from communication. Then they’ll be dating someone of the same cultural background or religion, and in record time.

So, I felt an immediate connection to what transgender women (heterosexual ones) experience, minus the violence that shouldn’t be happening. As I watched, I felt a camaraderie with them.

But at the same time as I was researching, I was feeling like I had been dealt the worst of hands, in life. The privilege of being a woman and one of color in this society.

I was feeling like I couldn’t catch a break. From how I was related to in the social divide, in my family, even how I was treated stretching back to film school where it was submerged in a white male and not particularly liberal student body. But I noticed something, many of the trans women I was watching had found a little corner of pride. Something I had kinda – lost.

Many were happy with the  opportunity to claim their womanhood, while mine was now dead weight. And it’s not that there weren’t any breakdowns, in fact trans women live in a world which resists acknowledging them at every turn. It’s more that these ones weren’t hanging out there. There was a place which made them feel at home and deeply happy,  and ironically it was the place I experienced the most grief. It made me think.

I had bought into what the world was offering about me. Internalized it. I had been beat, without even noticing. The fighter in me sprung to life off this and I began trying to rebuild joy and pride in my own womanhood. Respect for my circumstance, through theirs.

And there a strong respect for trans women was forged.  I entered a community to research violence and gained my life back, through the resilience, intelligence, grace and hope I encountered. So I am glad for every woman who transitions, finding and becoming herself.

Because in my view, we need one another.

And in that vain, I decided to craft a trans woman into my next ensemble. Telling the story of one person and the ill conceived shame that happens due to miseducation. Using love and attraction as the platform through which to dramatize  —  that.

THE LOOK BOOK FOR GLO