Explicit Fantasies, Filthy Commodities

October 30, 2023

I pick up the call and the bleak white wall behind me is greeted by Jack and the backdrop of his floor-to-ceiling bookshelf furnished in his home in L.A. The composure recently received an extraordinary, dear addition. His very own forgotten failure, from the 1980s. Nearly four decades later and the writer’s novel is anything but forgotten, and possibly furthest from a failure.

The Complete Fear of Kathy Acker’s explicit language, its harsh and honest portrayal of the fractured states behind the narrator’s distorted mind, paints a vulgar picture of what it means to be a product of our times, and has led Skelley right back to the underground cafes and communities where his artisanal practice once grew from - the alternative literature scenes.

Interview by Vilda Krog
Photographs courtesy throughout

Jack Skelley— Let me turn on my camera. There we go. Hello. It's wonderful to meet you.

What a beautiful bookshelf you got behind you.

Look how high up it goes all the way to the ceiling, and all the way to the floor.

Yeah, that's what I would like to have one day; the ultimate proof of achievement.

Of course you run out of room immediately, you know.

Do you have your own books back there?

Yeah, my whole set of them.

Oh, further achievements. How are you doing?

I'm very good. Thank you. Glad to meet you.

It's great to meet you too, thank you for reaching out.

I got happily surprised because my editor looped me in the thread and initially I was like; what is this email even talking about? Either this man is something really good or this is something really really bad. Let's just say my intuition was right. I went down a deep rabbit hole researching absolutely everything about you, your book, you new scene - are you ready to drag us out?

Does that mean that you have been able to read the book?

It does indeed. How would you talk about it to the unknown reader though, how would you describe the book yourself?

The novel was written in the mid 1980s. It was published in bits and pieces, but has never appeared in its complete form until now. I was unsuccessful in having the complete book released at the time, because you know, things don't happen sometimes. But then, last year, Semiotext(e) decided to publish it. And that was a huge thrill. I mean, when I got that news, I couldn't believe it.

Was it like laying around in their archive and all of a sudden Semiotext(e) reached out to you and were like, By the way, we would love to finally put this previous failure into print?

Kind of, yeah. They had known about it and owned copies of the original chapbook excerpts. Publishers Chris Kraus and Hedi El Kholti and I swim in the same literary and art circles. Through our mutual friends — Dennis Cooper and Sabrina Tarasoff the complete manuscript made its way to them and they said, “Ok, we'll do it.”

In some ways the novel is a departure for Semiotext(e), but in others it fits with their decades-long exploration of language, extreme sexuality and theory. That's basically the back story, which is perhaps part of the book’s draw. This forgotten novel has become a document of that time and place. This has lent itself to all sorts of ironies and reassessments, including the fact that there are big chunks of the book that even I hadn't read since first writing it!

It functions as a testimony of the past, yet at the same time it feels so fresh and so urgent; not only the multitude of messages read between the lines, but also your choice of medium: the way your character constantly, almost harmfully, shifts narrative is very contemporary. I belive it caters directly to just how much, or rather how little, attention our brain is capable of processing today.

That's a very interesting parallel: fractured consciousness and fractured narrative. The structure of the narrative, or perhaps the lack of it in the book, certainly reflects my mind and emotions at that time, including, you know, all those acid trips, sexual fantasies and being engulfed by media, culture and social scenes. Even larger cosmic themes of identity and reality distort the structure of the book. What’s funny is that I was in many ways unaware of their scope or significance at the time I was writing.

Probably a product of the life you were living, and constantly tried to push against?

Definitely. The Jack of the novel is forever testing himself against these forces within and outside of himself…

That’s how our attention span operates these days, even outside the acid trips and its dramatic comedowns. Everything happens in a matter of seconds. The scene right before you take a pee portrays this well, questioning the mere purpose of your own being, “... my inability to say anything. I have no personality and everything I could possibly formulate in my mind has been said ten jillion times before... Plus I have a headache. The piss is streaming out of me for what seems like hours.” Were these stylistic choices calculated or pure occurrences?

Even apart from the ego-dissolution of that scene, the book’s style reflects the influence of Kathy Acker. Although, I should probably mention here that the book is not about Kathy Acker. There is one passage where I quote her texts briefly, I mention her name once or twice, almost as if she’s lurking behind the scenes. However, Kathy Acker’s fractured narratives, her blatant “appropriation” of other writers’ texts, and her wild approaches to sex, politics, and identity made me feel free to experiment. Later on, she became very famous, but at the time I was writing, she was much more underground. Eventually people started labeling this style of narrative as auto fiction. But this remains a problematic term for a very diffuse genre.

But, yes, I was interested in her way of stealing from other texts, stealing from other identities and her kind of collage slash copy paste approach. I figured, “Fuck, if Kathy Acker can steal from whomever she likes, what’s to stop me stealing from her?”

You played her joke back on herself.

I did. And I guess it worked out. In the end.

The book is very personal and unfiltered, thus reading it feels similar to sneaking on people making love, or rather, having sex, or peeking into the pages of somebody’s diary. Yet every now and then you suddenly address the reader, asking if we are still there, or apologizing for writing so much crap just about girls; it reminds us that you are aware of us being there, in the room with you, or with your persona I shall say. Why did you decide to put a narrator between yourself and the story?

There are moments in the book where the narrator addresses the reader or even acknowledges that he's writing the book being read, as when his friends ask him, “Jack, can I be in Fear of Kathy Acker?”

I remember that part, “Only if you do something really interesting.” Such a smug answer.

Haha! Exactly, and the fact that you are able to fill me in right here goes straight to my intentions; The structure and details of the book are created — artificially conjured, even — in the act of writing it and reading it: the book also becomes while it’s being read. And what’s the distinction between fiction and reality anyways?

The book certainly comes off as demanding, while your persona is asking himself these existential questions, some deeper than others, it also commands the reader to question themselves, opening the door for various, personal interpretations. Speaking of such, what has the reception been like? I’m thinking about the sexual language in particular.

Thank you, I'm very glad you asked that question. In the months leading up to publication, I was in an extreme state of anxiety about how the book would be received, particularly about its many explicit sexual passages. I was worried that I might be attacked by whatever “cancel culture” is about these days. But all my anxiety was for nothing. It was just in my head, as usual. Haha. Instead, even before the book's official publication date, it sold out.

I read that. That's nuts.

It's nuts, right? My publisher was like, “What the hell, we have four launch events lined up. We don't have enough books!” That caused a slight panic. But, of course, that's a good type of panic; we figured it out. And the warm reception, especially from younger readers, has been a wild surprise. The situation makes a great story in itself. That's why I reached out to office, for you must be the younger generation, right?

Right. A generation which above all is described, and identified, as very “woke,” where explicit language, of women in particular, hasn’t necessarily been on screaming demand. However, the difference between your words and many other works is that your narrator addresses the impact of the larger culture which he so obsessively consumes.

100%. You really caught that. The Jack in the book is not simply a steaming sexual Id. I was trying to portray his entire reality. The narrator, reflecting on his feelings toward women, is aware that his sexual desires or provocations or kinks are somewhat manufactured by mass culture.

But to some extent those desires are also part of our animalistic nature, underneath their fabricated capital. How far can we blame consumerism for our failure and how much of it is our own flaws?

Wow. Yes! It seems that only a minority of people take authority for their actions and feelings, including sexual realms. It’s important that both writers and readers are aware of their own responsibilities, and try to understand who they are at essence as well as those “outside” forces that helped shape them.

It seems most people, when it comes to sex or politics, for example, don't question their influences, how they are being manipulated by media, language or culture. Perhaps you and I fit into the first mentioned, the “hipster world” if you like (although it’s an inadequate term), which is of the intellectual, provocative kind. Hence we’re accustomed to self-analyzing, becoming overly self-conscious, many mini self-doubting Hamlets — much like the narrator — seeking what’s hidden not only behind society but beyond himself.

“Jack” has a character arc even though the narrative is very unstructured. He is anxious and conflicted. He has terrible social anxiety, as when he is shrinking in the corner at a Hollywood punk party, for example. He also consumes mushrooms and LSD, and has a couple bad trips, which cause further ego-dissolution and boost his obsessions and depressions. Including some scary suicidal moments. But eventually he finds flashpoints where he seems to have gained insight. He's then able to flip his perception of these experiences and take control of them.

His own authority grows towards the end of the story, where the narrative gets very cosmic — but still comic — and he finally understands that his imagination is the key to "being", to entering a world of art. He forms a creative identity that is more comfortable for him.

However, he never manages to escape his existential prison to the full extent. He’s still doubting himself towards the end. The last section of the book is dominated by questions, and the answers shine in their absence. But I think he does achieve, as you previously suggested, somewhat of a separation between himself and his surroundings; a transcendent state of mind.

The very last question reads “You’re still there, right?” I like to believe that the question has been both echoed and answered by the collectives you participate in today. Would you like to tell us more about Beyond Baroque, and Car Crash Collective?

So there's so much to say about that, and I sent you that post that I put on Instagram last Saturday…

…it’s so relevant to our conversation. This book, as well as much of my ongoing literary, musical, artistic identity, originates from a formative period in the 80s Los Angeles art scene. I was working at Beyond Baroque, the literary/arts center in Venice California, where many creative writers, artists and musicians were also my friends. With Dennis Cooper somewhat as our “gang leader," we created an alternative art scene. Pretty much anybody was welcome, and pretty much all of us were unknown at the time, even though several of their names have since become familiar or famous. What excites me is that now, here in Los Angeles and many other places, the appetite for this kind of artistic community, particularly for writers, is stronger than ever. It’s still here, and I’m part of it!

Why do you believe these scenes to be of such importance? What do they respond to or rebel against?

Different scenes and different groups have different reasons for existing. I’m observing the newer, younger collectives in New York and Los Angeles. Take Uncensored New York for example, an art movement led by Samantha Sutcliffe. This group is dedicated to opposing the most destructive kinds of cancel culture. They come at this from an enlightened, perhaps leftist perspective, and their events and artistic products are challenging.

Other groups are formed to break down barriers, often in terms of sexual explorations, while others are born celebrating a pure love for literature. There is a scene for anything. And that’s a good reason to be part of one, and to mix with the others.

You followed up your letter by speaking the language of your narrator, addressing how “I appeared at Car Crash Collective last night in LA. Packed with more kids embracing me. What the fuck?” Let’s talk about Car Crash.

Car Crash Collective is led by two young women — Erin Satterthwaite and Brittany Menjivar — writers who produce monthly events at a bar in Los Angeles called Footsies, as well as more unusual venues. They came to one of the Fear of Kathy Acker launches in Los Angeles, read the book, and soon invited me to appear at their next event which took place last month. And I mean, they're already successful. Car Crash Collective doesn’t need Jack Skelley to take them anywhere or make their scene complete, obviously, but I felt such a creative embrace.

I'm gonna get a little emotional...

Feel very free to.

… They welcomed me, put me on top of the bill and they just… cheered for me, and for the “dirty” parts I read from the book. An incredible feeling. Members of these many alt-lit groups cheer for each other. They're very self-supporting, especially the young female writers who celebrate and explore each other's literature. It’s a shared, heartfelt success. It was a deep pleasure being part of such an honest, vibrant scene. It’s a constellation of scenes, really. It’s artistically and politically sophisticated. And it’s growing daily.

Well, there you have your answer — to Jack’s last question in the book: You’re still there, right?

Incredible. You're right. I think about young people today, and all the challenges they face in a social-media environment, for example, which creates this hyper-intensive pressure to define who you are in an artificial context. Not to mention all the existential catastrophes looming. Of course, my generation faced different pressures, but in a sense they all derive from a technologically administered and market-driven kind of oppression.

You’re even addressing that in the book, exhausted by the fact that “there's nothing left of me but was already dispersed into the electronic universe.” And you said that decades ago!

Haha. And it’s another example of not fully knowing what I was writing at the time. Perhaps I’m still not fully conscious of the larger meaning of it all.

Mr Skelley, neither am I...

Photographs follows order

Portrait of Jack Skelley, by Mike Jacomella
Jack Skelley 1985 photo by Sheree Rose. Jack skelley at gasoline alley
David Trinidad, Kim Rosenfield and Jack Skelley at Al's Bar. 8 Barney Party
Jack Skelley with Lili Lee (center) and Robin Carr. Kate Carson, Austin & Lily Lady, both at FOKA launch event, Poetic Research Bureau, July 26, 2023, photo by Damian Dovarganes
Jack Skelley performing with video art by Lydia Sviatoslavsky. MC Lily Lady, both at at FOKA launch event, photo by Damian Dovarganes

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.