Black, Queer, and Creative

December 06, 2021

If you need a sign to post that content, to advocate for yourself, to think outside of the box, to act outside of the box, this is it. You never know when a tweet could lead to something. Toniesha Payne, black, queer creative, who has paved her own way in the Influencer Marketing space, sits down with office to talk about how she landed in this position.

The self proclaimed "ghost influencer" had worked on influencer marketing campaigns for artists such as Doja Cat, Flo Milli, SZA, A$AP Rocky, and Childish Gambino, to name a few. She assists in building content, developing ways for them to grow their platforms, and tracking their analytics. "There are not many black women within the influencer marketing space in general, let alone a young, black, proud, lesbian woman in this male dominated field. I have become accustomed to taking the lead on projects since I am the sole person in my role," Payne says.

Stylist, Mattey Spicer and photographer, Junell Tanio worked with Toniesha on a set of dynamic and potent images that translate the New York based professional’s innate power. All while highlighting three emerging black fashion designers: Who Decides War, Wales Bonner, and Theophilio.

Interview by Willa Rudolph
Styling by Mattey Spicer
Photographer by Junell Tanio
Assited by Austin Wang and Abe Timbo

Payne’s drive and open mindedness play a big role in her ascendance. She has taken every opportunity, tried whatever has come her way even when she isn't totally sure of herself, and will continue to do so along her journey. The photographs’ brilliant colors, courtesy of Tanio, and the geometric-oriented yet chill outfits, courtesy of Spicer, all mirror Toniesha’s whole vibe.

POC, especially QPOC, have to work so much harder to get into the right rooms and seats at the right tables. Toniesha describes what it means to her to be representing queer black creativity when she’s in these environments. When you don’t feel that there’s a place for you where you deserve one, you need to forge that space; did you even know it was possible to invent your own position?! I think we all have a lot to learn from this self-made Ohio native’s experience. Boundaries are meant to be tested, rules meant to be broken. Don’t be afraid, just get out there and do what you gotta do.

Read our conversation with Toniesha below.

Above outfits feature Wales Bonner and Who Decides War.

How would you describe what it is that you do for a living?

Ooh, um. I guess from a corporate standpoint, the name of my role is Influencer Marketing and Content Strategy. But, I more so think of myself as a ghost influencer. The easiest way to explain my job to, say, my mom, or my niece or something, is that my job is to make artists popular on the internet and make people wanna engage with their music, with the artist, and with the brand. With me living in New York, I've had the ability to meet and rub elbows with some great taste makers. I utilize the resources and relationships I have around me, honestly. I network and build genuine relationships with great creatives who I can collaborate with and partner with to create some cool engaging content. I go out a lot, I go to art shows, concerts, anywhere and everywhere to also make sure I'm meeting and networking with amazing people. I study a lot. I am also looking for the next up and coming platform, the next tastemaker, the next cool TV show, the next cool brand. I am continuously always looking ahead to make sure I'm ahead of the curve and the cultural conversation, which helps me a lot.

What kind of tactics might you use to accomplish that for somebody?

I think in this new digital age, there are a lot of ways to get people to engage with content. The hard part is keeping them engaged. I don't think there is one way to do that. I think the best tactic is always being in the know and and always finding new and innovative ways to place content infront of people in an organic way. People's attention spans are short, so it's important to always be in tune with the consumers and with the world around you. I always ask myself what is happening next and how can I make sure whoever I'm working with is a part of those conversations. Like, what's the next TikTok? What's going to be bigger than Instagram? How do I enter those spaces? That's how you stay ahead of the curve.

How did you get to where you are now, career wise? What steps did you take; what was the order of operations?

Oh my gosh, man. I will definitely try to do a long story short because it’s a long story!

I figured.

I’m originally from Ohio. I’m from Columbus, Ohio. Actually, technically, Reynoldsburg, Ohio, which is this small town. I was living in Cincinnati before I moved here about 6-7 years ago, and I was working for this gentleman by the name of Floyd Johnson. He had this brand called Ohio Against the World, and that’s where I started my journey into the creative field. At the time, I was helping him create t-shirts and hats, and helping him market the products to a mass crowd. He taught me the ropes, and from there, he ended up actually quitting the brand and traveling the world. He’s doing amazing, living in the mountains somewhere right now, and so I was like, I wanna continue to see what I can do in this marketing field. A year later, I was like, Man, I cannot live in Ohio anymore if I want to really do something with my life. Because, in a town like that, you’ll kind of hit a glass ceiling. Ohio is one of those towns, you get married, you raise a family, and you just work at a fucking bank. One of those typa towns. So I ended up moving to New York.

I moved here with 300 dollars, a suitcase, and just the clothes on my back. My homeboy Taylor, he was a photographer at the time, he had actually went out to Paris, just to hang out there and shoot. He was like, Hey, do you wanna rent out my apartment for a couple months? I said sure. Ended up moving to New York. When I came here, I was interning at PAPER Magazine. By the grace of God, I got the internship because I had a friend from Ohio that worked there. I was doing PR, I was doing some marketing from them, and, you know, was able to be introduced to different influencers and different artists, and be in that world that I was never into or used to, which was a super blessing early on in my career. While I was working at PAPER, I was also a busser at Eataly. Working at PAPER during the day and bussing tables at night. And then doin’ it all over again the next day. I did that for a while. When I quit PAPER, I ended up going to a label by the name of Mass Appeal, which is owned by Nas. That’s how I got my step into the music industry. I worked there for about a year, and my friend George, also from Ohio, was the marketing manager at a label, and let me know they had an opening as a digital coordinator. I was like, I mean, shit, I’ll apply, bro, but I don’t know anything about digital coordinating. They ended up liking me, I went through the interview process, they gave me the job. I fucking sucked at being a coordinator; I was horrible at it. I was there for about two and a half years, and then the pandemic hit.

When the pandemic hit, I saw an opening within the marketing department. I saw an opening in my department where I thought I could utilize and lean on some tastemakers I knew personally to collaborate with them on creating engaging content. I actually pitched the position to all of the higher ups at my previous job. They were skeptical, but they were like, You know what, we’ll give it a shot. From there, that’s how I started my journey into influencer marketing. It’s a position I built on my own. And that’s the long story short.

Above outfit features Theophilio.

That is so sick. It’s wild that you invented that role yourself. Amazing. How’d you get into the music business? Why did you move in that direction, and how did you end up there?

That’s still something I’m curious about, to be honest! The universe just kind of shifted me that way. I’ve had a love for music and a love for fashion; what I wanted to be growing up was an architect, but I didn’t have the patience. The music industry found me. Interestingly enough, I used to post SoundCloud links on my Twitter all the time, like, very early on, when Twitter was just coming about. This was the early Kaytranada days, and early days of some of our alternative artists that we have now.

This woman by the name of Shabaz who followed me on Twitter, was working for Solange. I had absolutely no clue. She ended up DMing me one day, and asking me, Hey, have you ever thought about writing for music? I was like, No, I don’t have any writing skills, but I’ll try it! I’m not doing anything else. That was my first official step to talking about music and being in love with music and my journey to the industry outside of just a label perspective. Me writing and interviewing different artists for Solange’s platform Saint Heron. I did that for quite a while. I wrote for Saint Heron, for PAPER when I worked there, for the Source, I freelanced for the FADER. I grew a love for it, so I think it almost, like, found me. I didn’t really go out seeking to be in the music industry. It just happened that way, and I’ve been here ever since.

What are you most proud of career wise?

Oh, man. That’s a great question. It’s two parts. I think that sometimes I move so fast, I don’t even think about that. I think I’m most proud of the fact that I was able to create a position for myself. Eh, you know what? Scratch that, I don't care about that. I think I’m most proud of being a black woman, a gay black woman, in the music industry, is hard enough. But being a black gay woman, specifically within Influencer Marketing and Content Strategy, which is kind of a white male dominated field, is extremely hard, and I’ve been able to create a voice and foundating for myself that a lot of people aren’t able to have. I think that I’ve been able to be in rooms with some of the most amazing creative people, and my opinions, and my thoughts, and my creativity are respected and heard. I’m proud that I was able to do something a lot of black women, a lot of gay black women, aren’t necessarily able to do. I’m able to show my niece and nephew when they grow up, and tell them they can do it, too. I gotta tell you, I graduated college with not the best GPA, a communications major, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I dropped out of college twice. Coming from that to being where I am now, just shows that when you don’t give up, and you push through all the barriers and the hurdles, you can get to where you wanna go. There’s been times in my life where I was homeless, where I had no money in my account. Life beats you up. But I’m at a point where I can look back and see that all those things happened to get me exactly where I am today.

That’s fucking incredible. As a queer, black creative, do you feel a lot is put on your shoulders to represent that demographic, or that you’re being held responsible for representing a larger group?

I feel like it’s my responsibility to show other black queer creatives that you can make things happen. Don't feel like your sexuality, you being black, you being a woman, you being a man, whatever, is something that is going to hold you back. Because there’s been rooms where I’ve been the only black person in the room, let alone a black woman. You know what I mean? So, I think I hold a responsibility within myself to make sure I’m always being a representative no matter what room I step in, no matter who I’m around. I’m always representing black queer culture, all the time. But I hold it on my shoulders because I want to, not because I’m being forced to. It doesn’t matter if I have a dollar in my pocket or a million, I’m always gonna rep for black queer creatives, ‘cause that’s what made me, that’s where I’m from, that’s what I represent to the fullest, you know? That’s always what I’m gonna be. I’m never gonna try and look like something I’m not, be something I’m not. I walk into a room, and everything from how I dress, to how I talk, to just who I am, my essence, my presence, is just, that. Outside of it being a part of me, I make sure I’m representing my people. My culture. That’s it.

That makes a lot of sense! How would you describe your personal style?

I don’t know, I think my style’s all over the place, yo! I wish I had a word to describe it. Fun, I guess innovative in ways. Innovative but at times, maybe reserved. My style is representative of where I’m at at that moment. One day I could wake up and wanna be wearing all black. Next day, I could be wearing every color on the rainbow. Just depends how I’m feelin’ that day. But my style moves like waves. It’s fun, it’s creative, it's ever changing.

What song would you put on first thing in the morning to get you hyped up for the day?

I’m an R&B girl, so my first song always and forever will be Robert Glasper, featuring Erykah Badu, "Afro Blue." That’s my favorite song of all time. Play it at my wedding, play it at my funeral. And Cleo Sol, "When I’m in Your Arms." That’s another one of my favorite songs. Those two right there are the first songs I play almost every morning.

What advice would you give to a young person who sees your career and where you’ve gotten yourself, and they aspire to do something more for themselves but can’t seem to figure out how to get there? What would you tell them? Someone trying to get to the next level but might not see how to do it?

I’m trying to think what I would tell my younger self, because I’ve felt that way so many times. Shit, honestly, I feel like that at points now! Even, I’ve reached this level of quote, unquote success. Whatever that is. There’s still more things I wanna do. How do I get there? To answer your question, I think I would say, one, don’t doubt yourself. Never doubt yourself. Two, always have a good group of friends, your family around you, people that don’t want anything from you, that are just there to uplift you when you need them the most. Three, research. Do your research. Whatever you wanna pursue as a career, make sure you do your research. And shit, just try everything! Try everything. Try whatever. When you’re a creative, and you’re young, you get this idea that you have to stick to one creative field. I’m learning, now that I’m older, that you can be a writer, but you can also be in music. You can be a writer, but you can also be in fashion. You can be in fashion, but wanna be in tech. You’re gonna keep growing and keep wanting new things, so just try everything! And of course, what they always say, Never give up, but, ya know!

What you were saying about blending different arenas—fashion, tech, writing, music, whatever it is—in this day and age is so much more doable. I think its kind of new that we’re able to cross a lot of streams of career paths. It’s really cool.

You do music, right?

Yeah, trying!

No try! That’s like somebody saying they’re an aspiring stylist. You can’t aspire to style, you’re just a stylist. So you’re a musician!

Yeah, I’m in a band. But I also write. So I’m resonating with what you’re saying. So let’s chat a bit about the photos! What was the experience of shooting these images with Mattey and Junell like?

It was amazing, it was beautiful. I’ve known Mattey for a really long time; we’re both from Ohio. We both kinda came up in the creative scene out here together. So we’ve always been in each other’s crosshairs, I guess. He’s a great stylist. Originally, Junell had reached out to me to shoot. I wanted to use Mattey as a stylist because I could tell they work really well together, and I was familiar with him. So me and Mattey came up with the idea of using all black designers for this shoot. He styled me in three different looks. One was Who Decides War, the other one was Wales Bonner, and the last one was Theophilio, who just won the CFDA award not too long ago. We wanted to highlight these emerging young, black designers that are taking over the fashion game and being forward thinking in their approach to design and their authenticity. It was an exciting opportunity and I was super happy with how everything came out. I love Mattey’s styling; I think he’s great. He gave me some freedom to add a few extra pieces in—certain hats or glasses—but, yeah, he was certainly the mastermind as far as the wardrobe goes!

I would like to highlight Junell the photographer, because I think he’s absolutely amazing. His story is really amazing. He’s from the Philippines and just moved to New York from Ohio. He’s almost self taught in a way, and I think he’s a phenomenal photographer. He has a vision and an eye that a lot of photographers don’t have. Down to his editing skills and the way he colors his images is so beautiful. The images or styling would not look as powerful if not for him and his Midas touch. I think all three of us worked really well together!

What story are you telling with these images?

Outside of wanting to highlight this new creative resurgence of young black creatives that are surfacing right now, this is— I wouldn’t say a rebrand, but I would say more like a phoenix rising from the ashes, not on no corny shit. But, this particular shoot and even this whole interview coming out with office is special to me because, like I said, being young and black and a woman in Influencer Marketing is something very rare and very special because a lot of gay black women are not even in this field. To have been able to work with such amazing artists, I’ve been blessed to rub elbows with a lot of amazing people and be a part of their creative process. Sometimes I think jobs like this are a bit of a thankless job. So, to have an article or an interview about the hard work I do, as well as what other people in the Influencer Marketing and Digital Marketing field do, is great, because I think it gives some light to what people do behind the scenes. To really help artists or brands catapult themselves to the next level. I’m honored to be in this space that a lot of people aren’t in, and to be a part of some amazing creative strategies and help tell artists’ stories or brands’ stories.

On top of that, on a personal level, the past few years, with the pandemic and personal hurdles, and having to work through a lot of that, has been a struggle. It’s been humbling. It’s been tiring, at times, but it’s also something where I’m thankful I’ve been able to have something to distract me from the crazy stuff that’s been happening out here. It’s a double edged sword, I guess.

You exude such confidence. It’s not even confidence; I’m sure you’re very confident, but there is a power that is coming out.

Thank you, that means a lot. In this— shit, I was gonna say this industry, but even in this world, man—even if you’re not confident, you always have to feel it. ‘Cause I was nervous as hell on that shoot! But I think I wanted to get a story across. If I can do it, you can do it, too. I come from very humble beginnings. So, to be where I am now, is the work of some higher power and some dedication.

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.