Ahead of Pride, Five Queer Voices Share What Prom Means to Them

May 27, 2023

Limousines; gowns; tuxedos; corsages; corny pictures taken by your mom; school gymnasiums filled to the brim with balloons; arms-length slow dances. Whether you went to prom or not, everyone knows what the night signifies, and for thousands of teens across the States, the end-of-high-school formal is a rite of passage long anticipated before senior year even arrives. Regardless of how goth we see ourselves, and as much as we may want to mock the affair, prom plays a critical symbolic role in American culture. It's the tradition that marks young people's passage into adult relationships and sexuality, and is therefore, by design, alienating to people who do not follow the conventional gender journey. Although much has changed, prom is historically heteronormative, and isolating to trans and gender nonconforming youth with its restrictive sex-specific dress codes and limited categories like prom king and queen.

Intro by Izzy Capulong
Interviews by Livia Rose Johnson
Photography by Hannah Khymych
Art Direction Odie Senesh
Styling by Willyum Beck
Production + Set design Liya Eliazar
Makeup Sophie Hartnet
Hair Chika Nishiyama
Nails Stephanie Hernandez
Casting Anthony Pedraza + Livia Rose Johnson
Production Assistant Joseph Oxly
Photo Assistant Ian Rutter
Digi Tech Laur

Short for the word promenade, the night is modeled after the debutante balls of high society, which served as coming-of-age ceremonies for young women from wealthy families. Participating in a debutante ball meant a teenage girl was ready to be introduced to society and meet her future husband. Until the early 20th century, proms were reserved for male college students and their affluent families. In the 1920s, the traditional was democratized and transitioned to high schools where they became a much more casual and inclusive event for boys and girls on the brink of graduation. In the 1950s, prom became an integral part of every student’s high school experience.

For the queer community, particularly in places where queerness is met with hostility, prom often brings about moral dilemmas, anxiety, and residual questions like, "Am I allowed to go with my partner?," or "Will I be allowed to dress how I want?" However, we respond with a resounding, "Fuck your censorship!" Prom is meant to be a celebration, filled with music and dancing, a time for young people to feel like royalty. And what about that doesn't scream queer?

This pride, office sat down with five queer people to dress up and reflect on what prom means to them — from experiencing hostility to using prom as an opportunity to pull a look and dance their hearts out.

ANGEL

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

My name is Angel, I’m 23 years old and my pronouns are he/him.

How would you describe yourself?

I would describe myself as a very introverted person. There are a select few people who would say I talk too much, but that just means I am comfortable with you. I am trying to get better at being more talkative but I tend to observe first and then say my two cents.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

Prom is traditionally centered around heteronormative ideals, well at least from what the movies portray it as. There's usually always a prom queen and king but I think society has progressed past that now and I see more and more queer kids expressing themselves without judgment. To me, the idea of prom is just a silly celebration where you get to dress up/look cute, dance, and make memories. In high school I would have loved to have a boy accompany me as my date, but I had just as much of a fun time with my best friend.

How do you feel you truly express yourself in the world?

I express myself in this world by creating. I love expressing what is going through my mind with photos or my style. I don’t really speak much so I let my work speak for me.

What is authentic love to you?

Authentic love to me is being able to feel comfortable with whoever you are with and especially yourself. Love should never feel forced.

What drives your method of creation forward?

What pushes me to create is a person. My older brother constantly inspires me to keep creating and always wants what is best for me. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without him. There was a period in my life not too long ago where I had zero motivation/drive. He would check up on me from time to time but I would always create bullshit excuses because I just would not have the energy to start a project. Whether I am doing something big or doing nothing..he is always there to support me and I love him for that.

JEFFREY ARMANI JACKSON-PERRY

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

Jeffrey Armani Jackson-Perry, 20, he/him.

How would you describe yourself?

I am a fun, artistic person who loves to create.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

Prom was always the time for highschoolers to have fun with their friends and their dates, but traditionally these dates tended to be boy/girl. Society has pushed the idea that in most settings, boy/girl relations are “correct”. Who’s to say that it can’t be boy/boy, or girl/girl, or anything else for that matter? In all realness, it’s just a highschool party and I think prom is just about being yourself and having fun.

What is authentic love to you?

Authentic love is a love with no limits, a love with no boundaries. Authentic love is that deep connection you feel with someone and you love everything about them, flaws and all. That feeling when you just want to be around someone, and their presence is enough. Having the ability to be free with one another, expressing your true identity with one another, that’s authentic love.

If you were to give your younger self any advice what would it be?

If I were to give my younger self any advice I would say that it’s ok to be different. You’re cool just as you are and you don’t need reassurance from others to prove it. Just be yourself, unapologetically.

KOI KING

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

Koi King, 25, they/them.

How would you describe yourself?

I am an amalgamation of art, music, passion and freedom. A self constantly learning and evolving. An artiste.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

I think that prom has always been one of those things that’s unnecessarily nerve racking. I know of many queer folks that never went to prom because they couldn’t go with their partner, because it wasn’t safe for them to be out and attend in any manner that wasn’t the traditional cis-het expectation. Exclusion has always been something that people cling to for their own comfort and making simple things like prom inaccessible for queer youth is a reflection of what our society values. Exclusion in the face of difference. There are people that will argue against that, and so I ask what does our society think of our house-less population? The differently abled? The mentally ill?

How do you subvert binding traditions and normative structures?

I exist. And I do so loudly, and provide the space for others to do so. I am honest with myself, and the people around me. And I do whatever I want.

With so much of a celebratory nature surrounding Pride, especially by corporate America, many within the community have critiqued the lack of resources, collectives, and genuine opportunities that are shared during this time, in what ways would you like to see that combated?

I’d like to see pride for queer folks expressed all year round — not just during the month of June. I believe the best way to combat tokenism would be to include LGBTQ+ as you would cisgendered people. Whether that’s behind the scenes, on set, or in the office and not just project based. Providing a permanent seat at the table.

KYE QUINLAN

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

My name is Kye Quinlan, I’m 22 years old and I use she/her pronouns.

How would you describe yourself?

I would describe myself as a vibrant, genuine, and sexy person.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

I feel like prom means something different to everyone. I know for a lot of queer people that don’t have the safety to come out or openly express themselves, prom can be a source of anxiety. I would hope that in recent years, prom has transformed into a celebration for queer youth. I personally loved my prom! I was the gay prom king pre-transition vibes in Tampa, it was a gag.

What is authentic love to you?

Authentic love to me is love with no limits. For love to be truly authentic it needs to be unconditional through all the ups and downs of life.

What drives your method of creation forward?

My friends and the city inspire my creations into fruition. Being able to experience and love so many unique and beautiful trans people in the best city in the world gives me the imagination and courage to create authentically.

ALEX

What's your name, age, and pronouns?

Hey! My name is Alex, I’m 22 years old, and my pronouns are they/them, she/her.

How would you describe yourself?

I'd describe myself as optimistic, lucky, hardworking and passionate.

What has prom traditionally represented in the queer community and how does it reflect society at large?

Prom to the queer community has always been a place to show off your authentic self in a safe space with not too much judgment. I wore a suit to prom and it was everything I had dreamed of since I first started high school. I didn't have to adhere to gendered clothing on a night I wanted to be free. I think society can be more accepting when it comes to what teens want to wear on a night that’s all about them. Wicked makeup and crazy cool hairstyles on a day that only comes around once. A chance to be more daring.

What support do you feel during pride that you wish could extend throughout the year?

I wish the space that the queer community gets during pride month was year round, this aura of acceptance and acknowledgment that we’re here and just like everybody else. Not special, just different. I definitely feel uncomfortable when I’m idolized for my sexuality and appearance so it'd be nice to feel the normalcy that I feel during June all the time.

What is authentic love to you?

I feel the most authentic love when I'm truly being an embracing individual with all of my ever-changing flaws, I improve myself everyday and with that comes challenging topics about self. I love myself the most when I'm truly accepting of all my traits, good or not so good, they make me who I am.

Culture

Mowalola x Miss Sixty Launch with H. Lorenzo

I swing my legs over the ropes that guard the VIP entrance. Always over (I’m 5’10), never under. I’m late to the H. Lorenzo x Mowalola event, and the line is wrapped around the block. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I hate waiting in lines; it just ruins everything.

“Hey, my friend is DJing right now. My name should be down,” I say.

The youngish security guard looks me up and down. I have made an adventurous choice for this type of crowd. Neon pink hoodie, bright orange vest, my Raimundo jeans, and Jeremy Scott animal print sneakers. I let him take me in and look over his shoulder. Hmmm… I will be swathed in darkness when he lets me in. Dark night, dark clothes, dark makeup, furs, hoods, leather accessories, and sunglasses. I don’t recognize anyone, but it’s hard to tell who anyone is because I can’t see after 8 pm without my glasses. Night blindness. I can still catch a vibe though.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Mr. Guard says, interrupting my squinting.

“Who?,” I ask.

“The woman in charge of the list.”

That’s a drag. I want to dance. Lately, I am going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounded fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I imagine the inside to be a mirror of this, hopefully with people dancing instead of blowing smoke in each other’s eyes.

“You got instagram?” The guard asks me after about ten minutes of flirting.

“Can I go in?” I said.

He laughs. He lets me in the event without a wristband.

Inside, I understand why the other guard was gone for so long. I made a mental note to not drink too much liquid, the bathroom line is almost as long as the line outside. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provided me with enough light to make out Mowalola in a gold bikini and her low rise denim. My pulse races like the horse printed on the front of her coochie. That’s the point of the collection, obviously.

My hips swing around before I head towards the open bar. I smile to myself, noting that it’s a mezcal forward menu. I see a drink that disgusts me so I order it without hesitation. It’s a mezcal coffee concoction. My heart ’s ran through already, why not go all in? I head back to dance when I hear Shigecki’s set start. I’m jumping around, sweating, and when I pause for a beat I let out a yelp. There are strippers working poles opposite and behind the DJ booth. Good. Events should be sexy.

I end the night smoking my friend’s Korean strawberry cigarettes taking in the air of cool- when a man comes up to me wild-eyed exclaiming that we look just like one another. I look at him- no, not at all. I turn slowly, remembering what I should be doing: listening to DJ G2G’s set. Back inside, she is playing reggaeton type beats with lasers beaming out of her headphones (I want these). A rave in it of herself.

Too bad all the events end at 2 am in LA.

Culture

Vans Pipe Masters 2024

On the first night, Steve Van Doren and the Vans team hosted the heat draw for the competitors at a casual backyard barbecue. The son of Vans’ co-founder Paul Van Doren, Steve has worked in the family business for decades, and is now known as the Ambassador of Fun. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat made out of old shoes, he was definitely dressed for the part. The surfers, along with family and friends gathered in a relaxed setting as 40 men’s and 20 women’s names were drawn from a shoebox. The competition would run in 3 rounds, the top 4 men and 4 women with the highest scores moving onto the finals. When asked about their strategies, most gave answers along the lines of “get waves.” Refreshingly simple.

After waiting a few days for favorable conditions, the first day of competition kicked off with Women’s Round 1. It was finally time to see Pipeline in action. Banzai Pipeline is known as one of the most dangerous places to surf due to the powerful waves breaking over shallow and sharp reefs. With the potential to crash into the rocky edges or have leashes caught in caves, it takes a ton of skill–-and even more courage–to surf here. No stranger to these risks, the first heat included favorites Caity Simmers and “Queen of Pipeline” Moana Jones Wong, who showed off exactly why they’d been successful here in the past. Midway through the heats, Mother Nature decided to throw in another element as a light drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Rain or shine, the athletes went out unfazed, focused on getting their first points on the board.

After another short day’s break, the competition continued with the women’s second round and the men’s first. The beach was filled with spectators, locals and tourists alike, as the competition was free for all to attend. While fans rooted equally for the women and men, the most popular were the local Hawaiian athletes, which made up about half the competition. The women started off the day again, hyping up the crowd with incredible rides. One ride by Bettylou Sakura Johnson earned the first Bag of Cash of the day– a cash prize (of undisclosed amount) awarded in a brown paper bag to any surfer that pulls off a wow moment, excites the crowd, and pulls off something spectacular regardless of what the conditions might look like.

Winds picked up as the men’s competition began and two strategies quickly emerged: an aggressive approach, targeting any decent waves to build small scores; and a patient approach, waiting for the perfect wave to chase a high single score. Even the waves that were unrideable were a spectacle in itself. The sheer size, illustrated by the length of surfboards riding up and over, and the following crash of white water spray was hypnotizing. Then imagining having to experience it out on the water, duck diving under or being lifted over, brought a renewed respect for the surfers.

After watching these early rounds, it was time for office to head back to the cold. With the competition officially spanning from December 8-20, it seemed the forecast was gearing up for some massive waves— and it didn’t disappoint. Following from afar through Vans’ Instagram and live updates, we saw the full extent of what it means to surf at Pipeline. After a series of electrifying and daring surfs, the 2024 winners were crowned: Erin Brooks and Nathan Florence.

The thrill of watching top athletes compete at the highest level of their sport, even remotely, never fails to inspire. Few sports surrender so completely to the forces of nature as surfing does. And at its core, surfing is all about having a deep respect for the ocean—its unpredictable whims, its immense power, and its ever-changing moods.

Culture

The Cost of Queendom

December 17, 2024

One summer afternoon in New York, a few days after their New York premiere of the acclaimed documentary Queendom, office met up with documentary filmmaker Agniia Galdanova and producer Igor Myakotin at a tattoo parlor on the west side of Manhattan. While Agniia received a tattoo of the portmanteau “DOCU CUNT” across her fists, she — unfazed by the needle on her knuckles — answered our questions alongside Igor about the making of the stirring story that has traveled around the world.

One of the opening scenes of Queendom depicts a ritual many of us are all too familiar with in the 21st century. Jenna Marvin, the documentary film’s central subject, takes her friend along with her to take photos for Instagram. When she finds a suitable backdrop, she poses, poses, poses, and then reviews the photos. Dissatisfied, she gives her notes, and then returns to pose, pose, pose again.

By Brook Aster
Photos by Liv Solomon

The ritual may be familiar, but nothing else about the scene — from its setting to its stakes — is ordinary. The backdrop behind Jenna is a sweeping expanse of ice and snow in a small Russian port town called Magadan. Jenna is dressed in drag, but not drag of the Rupaul’s Drag Race variety; her drag has been referred to as “creature drag.” Her signature white face paint, platform heels and surrealist costumes, with their exaggerated sculptural proportions and use of duct tape and repurposed items, catches the ire of her neighbors and the love of online admirers alike. Jenna eventually accrued a following on social media for her public and technically illegal drag performances, which often involved little more than her walking or being in public spaces but nevertheless were often met with abuse and threats of imprisonment.

But when Agniia first encountered Jenna, she hadn’t yet reached the level of virality that would eventually come in the years to follow. The filmmaker was researching different drag performers in Russia for her sophomore project, which she thought would be a docuseries, when she heard from a friend about a young drag queen from Magadan. “I was like, this is impossible. I have to meet this person,” Agniia remembers. “And I could not actually go meet her because I was in Moscow and she was in Saint Petersburg, so I sent a friend of mine with whom I’d been studying with in film school, and she went and filmed the sample.” The simple video, showing Jenna and her friend getting dressed up for a party, struck something in Agniia. The drag was an earlier, more prototypical version of the style Jenna is now known for; less duct tape and ornamentation, but still that signature striking makeup. “Something sparked. I knew I just had to stick to this feeling,” Agniia says. She decided to turn the docuseries into a documentary solely focused on Jenna.

Around that time, the entire world came to a grinding halt: the onset of COVID-19 pandemic had just led to lockdowns around the globe. With only a couple thousand followers on social media at that point in time, Jenna had tried to branch out and connect with other drag artists in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but faced rejection; her drag was extremely unconventional, and not even other drag artists quite understood it. “I think we found each other at the right moment, because nobody knew what to do, how to cope with all this,” Agniia says. “Jenna was saying that she was lost, and she also didn't know how to develop her art next.”

Unlike some of the other artists Agniia had initially researched, Jenna didn’t need much convincing to allow the camera into her life. “[Especially] after COVID came, there wasn't really [any] drag in my life,” Jenna recounts when I speak to her later over Zoom. “I realized that what drag is for me is not just a costume, a dress, something that you leave, that you take off and then in the dead of the night you put back on. Later, I understood that this is who I am, that I am art and I am drag, and that this is way bigger and more important than just clothing or costume.”

[LEFT TO RIGHT: Agniia Galdanova, Jenna Marvin, Igor Myakotin]

When it came time to move into production stages, Agniia sent a clip to Igor, who had been referred to her by a past colleague. When Igor saw the footage, he was similarly struck by Jenna — and even more struck to find out she shared his small hometown of Magadan. “It was just so fateful to know that I also come from this town, and I've never seen it through this cinematic lens, through the vision that Agniia has,” he says. “I was mesmerized by the footage, mesmerized by Jenna. I thought to myself, I have to do everything I can [for us] to work together, whatever the collaboration is gonna be.”

The two followed Jenna for over three years; Agniia first relocated to St. Petersburg, where Jenna had taken up residence after leaving her grandparents’ home in Magadan, and later Jenna moved in with Agniia in her home in Moscow. All the while, Igor and his team worked remotely from the United States to meet Agniia’s production needs. Inevitably, with all their time spent together, Agniia and Jenna became close.

“There is an unspoken rule in documentary filmmaking that you have to keep this line, and you can’t overcome certain boundaries,” Agniia explains. “In my first film, it was not an easy subject [to do this with] as well. I was following a family for seven months, and [we became] close, but I always was trying to keep my distance, and was constantly thinking about it. How much should I say? How much should I give?” But as she got to know Jenna, it became clear that this time, that distance wouldn’t be possible. “With Jenna almost from the very beginning, I was like, fuck it. That’s not going to work with this one. I'm going to break this rule 100%. I never regretted it, because that's actually what built up the trust that is there.”

As Jenna's public performances continued and began to garner more public attention, her online audience multiplied. Among her virtual admirers was French fashion maven Michèle Lamy, who would eventually sign onto Queendom as an executive producer. Lamy's discovery of Jenna led to an invitation to walk in the Rick Owens show in Paris — her first time modeling, and her first time leaving Russia in her life. Of course, Agniia and her camera followed. But most of their excursions were not so glamorous; many of Jenna's performances shown in the documentary were undertaken at a real risk to her physical safety, and by extension, to the safety of Agniia. But neither of them were daunted.

I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.

After all, Jenna was used to both taking risks and documenting them well before she was the subject of a film; she and her friends long filmed the often impassioned, sometimes violent reactions of strangers and policemen to their mere existence in public spaces in drag. And after a protest performance in which she wrapped herself in the Russian flag, Jenna was kicked out of beauty school, her last attempt at a practical route before pursuing her drag as a full time venture.

The only time Agniia tried to dissuade her was on Paratrooper’s Day, a Russian military holiday often characterized by the drunk soldiers roaming the streets. The risk for violence was especially high. “On Paratroopers Day, people say you can't come out in skinny jeans or with nail polish,” Jenna describes. “[I think] you should do the opposite. You should really make a statement and come out wearing what you want to wear. I think that clothes, what we wear, is really at some point beyond our psyche, our mind, our understanding. It is as if it's a certain kind of spice that is enticing you and you follow the scent of that spice and you don't see anything else except that scent and you follow it. That's how I see it.”

“I was like, ‘girl, maybe we should not do that,’” Agniia says. “Igor was stressing out and she told us, ‘well, you don't need to follow me. I'm gonna go and do it. I don't care if you're coming or not.’” In the end, Jenna ventured out for her performance anyway, protesting the then-recent invasion of Ukraine. Agniia followed. Not shown in the film is that the two were arrested, and managed to talk the police out of their arrest.

Not too long after, she would have to leave Russia again, this time moving for Paris for good; the film follows her struggles to get a visa in time to leave the country after the onset of the war. “It's already been three years that I've been in France, and it is important for me to understand and remember who I am, and to remember that pain, those moments when we were back in Russia doing drag, fighting with the police and law enforcement,” Jenna says. “It is important that this resistance continues and that those voices are not being silenced. Yes, here there’s much more freedom, there are pride parades and queer people can get married, but this is an illusion because there are also places where you cannot get married and you cannot enjoy the same freedoms. I cling to who I am, who I was from the very beginning. I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.”

“Meeting Jenna gave me hope for the future of the country, because governments come and go, people in power come and go, but the generations change at the same time,” Igor says. “So it warms my heart to see that someone like her came from somewhere like that. If I saw her back then at a similar age, it would be even more personal. I think I would’ve accepted myself as gay quicker, and I wouldn't be nervous or closed and not open to the world or myself… Working with this project also meant that we were amplifying the voices of many, many people who couldn't speak like Jenna could.”

For Agniia, the honor of telling Jenna's story is only paralleled by the honor of having her in her life. “We found each other,” Agniia says. “And what I learned from Jenna is so precious; about life, about art, about surviving. And I appreciate it a lot. This film grew so much larger than just a documentary, because I have a family now, a working family.”

Queendom is now available to stream on Apple TV.