No Justice No Pride

December 11, 2019

No Justice No Pride is the activist movement everyone has been waiting for. What began as queer housing for at-risk trans women of color, has slowly cultivated into so much more.

The group No Justice, No Pride is a revolutionary collective of predominantly trans activists from DC—the team itself has been fighting for pride straight to the source in Washington since 2017. Through all the discrimination and hate, these women remain strong and resilient, unapologetically thriving in their own right.

In light of a recent new documentary film highlighting the trials and tribulations these inidviduals often experience, office spoke with Emmelia Talarico, a lead organizer with NJNP, who identifies as a trans woman of color herself, to learn more about what real LGBTQ activism really looks like.

Interview by Brandon Jean
Photos courtesy of Eaton Workshop

Watch the video and check out the full video below.

For those who don’t know, who and what is No Justice No Pride?

We're a collective of mostly trans activists from DC, mostly protesting the inequality in the modern-day LGBT movement. Most notably around the disenfranchisement from black and brown communities. Our first big action was the capital pride protest in 2017. We blockaded capitol pride three times over there insistence on including money hungry corporations and the police, weapon manufacturers and sponsors.

How and when did the No Justice No Pride collective start?

Well, a bunch of us have been involved in different social movements over the past couple of years here in DC. Some of us were involved in Disrupt20 which are the protests around Trump's inauguration. We saw that there was a lot of energy that year and we wanted to do something around LGBT stuff and around pride month. We didn't know what that was but then we saw that we were involved in a bunch of protests around the chief of the MPD. We were involved in a bunch of protests around his confirmation hearing. A lot of people who are trans and queer came and testified. We saw that the council took the voices of those who were more established, white, cis gay and lesbian organizations more seriously. So we wanted to start having a more active presence with more radical politics, and politics that are based within the trans community. So we started going after different franchisements like pride for example and we've later expanded out.

Within the film you talk about housing for trans women. Has housing always been an issue for NJNP?

Housing has definitely always been an issue. It’s a big issue within the trans community. We had started doing support around housing in 2018. A lot of our trans friends who previously had their situations somewhat figured out because they had access to Backpage or Craigslist. They had access to be able to make money if they needed too. For a lot of folks that came to an abrupt end in March 2018. So we ended up stepping up to make sure folks have housing by housing them directly. We got forced out of our first house and ended up just going all in and just getting a bigger house and continuing it, which later evolved into the NJNP collective, which is what a lot of the film is about. The film was kinda wrapped up towards the end of the summer when we were about to lose the last place, but since then we’ve expanded and got two new places and we’re working on the third.

With that being said, do you ever plan to spread and grow the organization beyond DC and possibly set up several safe spaces?

Well, we’re trying to toolkit it. I feel like people who are from different areas are gonna know what is best, and the best way that we can support that is to share our own experiences with them and help get them set up. We are planning on making a tool kit so people can recreate it in different cities.

That's amazing, what exactly would the tool kit consist of and how can one retrieve it?

It will mostly be how to get around different things, what are some of the different laws around renting, how to crowdfund rent for people, and stuff like that. We’re not really sure how we would release it just yet but it's something we’ve been working on for a minute.

It’s obvious that people are biased in their ways and opinions, but have you noticed any changes in how people view the trans community in your area from when the police first started harassing you?

Since we moved, I will say it’s been a lot more peaceful, but I think the other thing is instead of having a lot of people in one house we have it split up so it's been relatively a lot quieter at both places. I think going towards getting multiple places was a good idea.

On an average night how many women usually stay with you at the NJNP homes?

On an average night, I would say it is around 17 women as of this past month, but we had upwards to 40 people. There are folks that also stay with us that will usually stay in a different shelter because the shelter might have a curfew or some sort of restriction where they can't stay out at night.

We can't be out there fighting all the time. We also need to curate community spaces where people can enjoy themselves and also pick up different skills that they might have always wanted to do but never had a person who can show them.

Can you tell us about your process when coming up with events?

Yes and no. So the dyke march had asked us if we wanted to participate. We also have a steering committee and then we also kinda just have more of a loosely-affiliated spokes council of people who stay in the houses who often organize stuff with us more directly. Within NJNP, we have a couple of folks who are really active such as myself and Tiara who you saw in the film, who’s planning the ball. There’s also Kim, Bianca, Jessica, and Tracy. I don't know if you saw any of the banner drops we did but Tracy was the other climber. So we mostly operate around consensus and whoever is committed to doing the work at the time.

In your film, you also mention that you try to host events that aren’t always rallies or protests, what other events do y’all put together in order to bring the community together?

We do the ball—Tiara kinda just goes all-in on balls when she has the time and capacity to plan them. We try to make sure there is always an event around pride. If we’re doing an action around pride or around that time of the year we always try to make sure that there is also a kind of space that is demilitarized, that has no police, that's conflict-free so people can just chill. I also think Tiara is trying to plan another ball for sometime in the spring.

We know Tiara is really into dance, have y’all ever thought about hosting dance workshops through NJNP for queer and trans youth?

We did an action camp last year where Tiara had six different dance class sessions. We do kinda see that as really valuable. We can't be out there fighting all the time, we also need to curate community spaces where people can enjoy themselves and also pick up different skills that they might have always wanted to do but never had a person that can show them.

Do you think we’ll ever get to a point where we stop referencing trans women as trans and just as women?

I think in a lot of ways we do. I do personally. A lot of times I do say trans women because I'm trying to make a political statement towards the experiences of trans women. I see a lot of people, that when they do say women, they are automatically thinking of trans women. I don't know if we’re necessarily at that time where that is just assumed. I'm in the activist community so I kinda live in a bit of a bubble, so when people are in my circle they are definitely referring to trans women.

Who has inspired you to get into the activism work you currently do know?

So many, I have been incredibly inspired by the work of the black panther party. I’m incredibly inspired by being able to create this movement where you can have the resilience over the things that are harming your community and that the same time you can be doing mutual aid and supporting community members and use that as a mechanism to help build capacity to help make a movement even bigger. I think that's truly inspiring. They're huge idols of mine. Fred Hampton, Huey Newton. Of course, I'm also big fans of Sylvia and Marsha P. Johnson, these are also people that have really inspired me a lot.

How has having to experience life on the streets changed your overall perspective of activism through NJNP?

I dropped out of high school so when I first got involved in activism I didn't know what half these different terms meant and that took a long time to just understand. I feel like in a lot of ways it kind of makes me feel more rooted in my politics and my principals. It definitely helps me see a lot of different intersections and class issues.

What are your current goals and aspirations for NJNP?

Well, right now we're still trying to get a third house because we have a lot of folks in one place that we’re trying to get to another place, and then also some of the people who were at the older house haven’t really had a place to go in a minute. Longer-term I really want to try to figure out how to get some sort of property and have that be longer-term because renting is just throwing away a lot of money. Other than the housing stuff we’re still doing a lot of work around decriminalization now. We’ve been apart of this coalition to decriminalize sex work for the past two and a half years. We’re also hopefully going to be working with the Marsha P. Johnson Institute with decrim now that might be the next thing we work around. We definitely will still be trying to call out some of the bigger mainstream establishments within the LGBT movement who are still supporting the enemies that are trying to kill us. I think we’re also gonna start taking a different direction going after some of these rescue groups that have been mobilizing against Decrim now.

What’s life like for you outside of No Justice No Pride?

I end up doing a lot of support work, I'm also a sex worker, I like to ride bikes. I also DJ and make music. I find myself working a lot.

How can people help the trans community?

Give trans individuals money.

What scares you the most?

Landlords. Nothing will make me completely freeze up and not be able to do anything for hours.

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.