the stroll gives black trans sex workers in new york the opportunity to tell their own stories
“there were no other opportunities for trans women at the time.”
the stroll opens with co-director kristen lovell narrating over footage from a 2007 documentary she featured in called queer streets.
lovell is part of a community of trans sex workers, many of them homeless, who came together and worked in manhattan’s meatpacking district from as far back as the 1960s until gentrification took hold in the wake of the september 11th attacks. lovell, and the generations of women she survived alongside, have historically had their voices filtered by outside media forces such as those that animated queer streets.
this opening, in which lovell adds her own voice to footage she had little-to-no-control over, articulates the film’s fundamental goal. it is a reclamation of the history of trans sex workers, most of whom are black and women of colour, affording them the opportunity to be the authors of their own stories on a more equitable platform. this new hbo documentary, which premiered at the sundance film festival last month, is a wresting of the mic by those trans women who have long been subject to media derision and prurient curiosity by cis society.
lovell co-directed the stroll with trans artist and activist zackary drucker. compared to the other documentary about black trans sex workers at sundance this year – d. smith’s wonderfully idiosyncratic kokomo city – the stroll is a more by-the-numbers affair.
“this new hbo documentary, which premiered at the sundance film festival last month, is a wresting of the mic by those trans women who have long been subject to media derision and prurient curiosity by cis society.”
whereas smith interviews black trans sex workers in their homes as they’re lounging on the sofa or taking a bath, lovell speaks to her friends in a studio, putting forward a glossier, if slightly sterile presentation. that sleek spell is briefly broken in one humorous moment when lovell is speaking with g.l.i.t.s. founder ceyenne doroshow. a police siren fortuitously interrupts their conversation about the nypd’s long history of violence towards trans sex workers. the two women freeze. following a moment of silence after the siren has faded, ceyenne pipes up “i hope their tyres bust”.
even though the formal presentation of these interviews may seem standard for an hbo documentary, the relationship between interviewer and her interviewees is not. unlike most documentary filmmakers before her, lovell is not coming to this subject as an outsider, but as someone who has long been in community with the people she is interviewing. what this means is that there is a casual back-and-forth of various reminiscences like joking about their weirdest clients or confiding in their traumas. presented as proof of how things used to be, lovell shows clips of an early-career rupaul interviewing girls on the street back in 1992. lovell points out that the future drag mogul treats the whole thing as a joke and the trans women she speaks to appear guarded as they try to get on with their work attracting clients.
such archival clips, along with street photography, break up the interviews, presenting a tangible visual record of the historical narrative lovell and drucker are trying to convey. when more abstract experiences need to be illustrated, such as “going wonder woman” to protect girls from violent clients, slick cutout animation segments are spliced in, utilising photos of the women. imagine a less off-putting angela anaconda.
“unlike most documentary filmmakers before her, lovell is not coming to this subject as an outsider, but as someone who has long been in community with the people she is interviewing.”
even though the stroll clocks in at a slender 85 minutes, there is such a density of information that it rewards multiple watches. i was able to recognise video footage of sylvia rivera, as well as snippets from the remarkable, if somewhat fetishistic, 1967 short behind every good man. yet there is still an abundance of archival material from street photography to illuminating video footage. researcher diana tourjée and archival producer olivia streisand deserve major credit for their work on this film. it’s not just about the quantity of archival material on show, it is that the trans women in them are framed with such love. i immediately wept at the first sight of sylvia rivera. on the other end, as shown with the rupaul segment, the dehumanising fetishism in much of the material is challenged, reframing the context in which they are viewed.
the first half of the film goes into the history of the meatpacking district and the lives of the sex workers who made it their home. as we move into the second half, the film shifts to a historical account of gentrification in the area, which started off with then-mayor rudy giuliani’s “tough on crime” approach in the 1990s. this, in conjunction with the discriminatory “walking while trans” ban, led to the criminalisation of the girls in the meatpacking district. hatred of sex workers was further energised by neighbours who went so far as to hang an effigy labelled “hooker,” as seen in one shocking photo.
with mike bloomberg succeeding giuliani as mayor in the wake of 9/11, gentrification “went on steroids” according to vanishing new york author jeremiah moss, who is interviewed in the film. lovell explains that bloomberg’s implementation of operation spotlight meant that repeat offenders like many of the girls, including lovell herself, were targeted with longer sentences and sent to rikers island “a horrible and disgusting place.”
“it’s not just about the quantity of archival material on show, it is that the trans women in them are framed with such love.”
by the time these women had left prison, the neighbourhood had been irrevocably changed while many of their friends were dead. probably the most surreal and upsetting moment in the stroll sees lovell comfort her friend izzi “cashmere” as he breaks down crying in the middle of the now-gentrified neighbourhood, mourning the dead girls who just a few years ago were working to survive on that very corner they’re standing on, now surrounded by ignorant passers-by.
at its heart the stroll is another cry for sex work to be destigmatised for the sake of sex workers. this was voiced powerfully by the film’s team after the world premiere at sundance. it’s important to remember though that this is just one story in a larger history of trans sex workers. in the 1990s and 2000s, mirha-soleil ross and xanthra mackay were producing video work and zines on trans history and sex work activism in montreal and toronto. just as the stroll reclaims trans history from a prejudiced media, it also becomes part of history. in the context of wider knowledge of trans issues, and with backing from hbo, the stroll will hopefully have some reach.
the stroll will be screening as the opening night film for bfi flare on 15th march – although the press release fails to mention the topic of sex work, proving the fight for trans sex workers’ rights is still ongoing.