Fossil Free Future, Man Camps and Ru Paul: A Two Spirited Restoration

October 13, 2021

Violence and murder are experienced at a higher rate within indigenous communities than any other demographic in North America. These harms disproportionately affect women and the LGBTQ+ community much of which goes unreported.

Although an undeniable human issue, the root of these injustices can be tied directly back to the issue of climate change. Banks, big oil, and the financing of pipeline projects on indigenous lands breeds these atrocities by displacing folks and setting up “man camps” perpetuating violence and leaving those living on reservations most vulnerable to abuse.

Interview by Maxwell Vice

Text by Ronald Kahihikolo and Maxwell Vice
Photography by Carlos Jaramilo
Model Thomas Lopez
Creative Directing and Styling by Marcus Correa
Photo Assist Todd Midler
Style Assist Alexander Abola
Hair by Mya Michon
Make Up by Susana Niño

In a post covid world where we learned how to be accountable for how we keep Black and Queer people safe, there is still an overlooked American Pandemic at the surface: The Climate Crisis. Up until this interview with Water Protector, Climate Activist and Co Founder of the Int'l Indigenous Youth Council (IIYC), Thomas Lopez, Maxwell never knew how even fundamentally BIPOC companies profit off of the climate crisis, and the destruction the fossil fuel industry brings to Indigenous communities.

Why is it that the media holds such little data on the crimes that happen in these spaces? Why do celebrities involved in the oil fracking industry keep so quiet on exactly who they are willing to harm? Even in an era where protesting is ‘trending’, where are the articles on the daily fights of climate activists on Indigenous lands? It's a hard truth to swallow, but as Thomas explains, “In order for America to exist, Indigenous people had to be removed.” and after their conversation, Maxwell realized how strategic the states have been in making sure these stories are forgotten.

Indigenous Peoples Day was on October 11 and it kicked off “ People VS Fossil Fuels “, a week of action leading up to October 29 when young people globally will be taking to the streets for a Fossil Free Future. Maxwell Vice sat down with Two-Spirit leader Thomas Lopez about Climate Activism, the fossil fuel industry, and well-respected names supporting the Climate Crisis.

The vast majority of mainstream media has turned a blind eye to this harm and the communities it affects, Climate Activist Thomas Lopez has remained as a consistent voice speaking on these injustices. The intention of this piece and the photos that coincide with it is to illustrate the beauty, strength and, resilience of queer indigenous communities in the face of these atrocities.

The shoot features Lopez in 2 looks both connected by a predominant use of the color red, the official color of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women Movement (MMIW).

Check out the interview and editorial below.

Maxwell 一 Hi, is this Thomas?

Thomas 一 Yes it is! Is this Maxwell or Vice? Not sure which name you go by...

M 一 Vice is my last name so everyone calls me that, makes me sound a lot scarier than I am Ahah. I talked to Marcus Correa who casted me for the Willy Chavarria show about you and your work. He showed me these beautiful images he curated for you. How long ago were these pictures taken?

T 一 We shot them in April 2021 so a few months ago. We’ve just been trying to find the right place to showcase them. Me and Marcus are like cousins. We grew up together being little hood kids, now we are working on this climate finance campaign together. We both grew up in Denver so we always had a mix of urban and Indigenous cultures in our lives.

M 一 I don't get to really meet any Central-American or Indigenous people in the industry, yet alone get a chance to interview them so I’m honored. I wanted to ask if you could explain to the Readers, what is Climate Activism? For those who may not be aware of what these activists do.

T 一I can! I can even tie it right back to pop culture and the industry too, because it impacts everything. As Indigenous people, caring for the earth is not something separate of self. We’re raised knowing that the earth is not an endless resource but a sacred source of life. It wasn't until the Standing Rock uprising of 2016 where I began to hear the terms “Water Protector,” “Land Defender,” and “Climate Activist” which is a person who works towards healing the earth from the harm we’ve already caused. This can be done in many different ways. For example, Marcus and I work on a campaign that goes after the banks and financial institutions that are upholding the Fossil Fuel Industries. Others feel there is a more direct way of interfering with these systems, but ultimately a Climate Activist is someone who works towards protecting the health and wellness of land, water, and air for the next seven generations.

M 一 I’ve never personally met someone who was involved in Standing Rock, and I can't imagine the resilience it takes to be on those frontlines. During the BLM protests I personally saw many correlations to how the state treats those with rights to land, and I found that in both instances the front lining protestors were always brown women or brown queer people. I know there's a lack of protection over queer and femme folk in these spaces, and I could imagine its no different for the Indigenous communities. Could you talk about the navigation of these kinds of people in your community?

T 一 Before going into the gender issues in Indigenous communities, you have to know who I am. It gives more context to what I do and the navigation I have in these spaces. I am Otomi and Sicangu Lakota; I also identify as Xicano. I am a Grandchild of Chief of Chiefs Leonard Crowdog Sr. He passed away in June 2021. He was a big influence in my life and to the community internationally as he played a really heavy role in the American Indian Movement (AIM) in the 1960’s-the 1970s and I am a resulting generation of his life’s work. Growing up my Father was a Sundance Chief, and my Mother was a Water Woman. They are both highly respected amongst the Xicano and Lakota communities, so growing up I had a very different experience than a lot of the other Queer, Trans, and Two-Spirited people for the simple fact that... No one was going to come fucking with my parents. Do you know what I mean? *laughs*

M 一 Right! Don’t come fucking with the fam before the fam comes fucking with you! *laughs*

T 一 Exactly! You don't disrespect people’s children, you just don't. And my parents always supported me and had my back. One thing people don’t always realize is that Indigenous communities are often their own sovereign nations and we have a lot of respect for our chiefs and elders, so I always felt protected by that. I can't say however that it is the same experience every Two-Spirit person gets in the communities. Yes, we live in 2021, but the way many tribes operate is still very patriarchal and that comes with the lack of protection for femmes and queer people. To be honest, most Two-Spirit people are often aggressively erased from the community. Growing up on the Rez (reservations), it can be very dangerous for Trans or Two-Spirit people. A lot of us get abused, go missing or get murdered. Nothing is really done because no one is acknowledging that these people exist within these communities, and if you don't “exist” how can we possibly get data on these altercations to prevent them from happening? Government assistance is provided based on data, if there is no data then the state won't provide the resources needed to help. That's why it's been such a prolonged, unseen problem because no one is documenting us; no one writes about us. There is no data to support how many of us are truly affected. That's what we face in our communities, this is why I do what I do.

M 一 As a young nonbinary person I don't often get to meet any elders who have made progression not only in their community but within their identities. How is it like being given a space to be a Two-Spirited person among such a sacred space?

T 一 I’m almost 30 years old and in just 10 years the culture has changed drastically. To see how free and open it’s becoming for people like us to exist is amazing but I still see a gap. I still see this LGBTQ+ community that is supposedly supposed to represent the people and I don't see myself reflected. I don't see a space made for me or people like me being talked about. We’ve been doing what you call “Climate Activism,'' for thousands of years. We are the original caretakers of this land, and to be erased perpetuates a genocide that started 500 years ago.

M 一Why do you think it's so easy for people to overlook the Indigenous communities? It seems like it's something the media is not willing to discuss, and are purposefully being pushed out of the conversation? We learned so much on how to uplift and protect black people in 2020, and I find no one wants to apply that aid and equity to Indigenous communities and it personally really upsets me. They tend to put these man camps near BIPOC communities. These camps tend to be predominantly large groups of men with no one to regulate them, resulting in the abusive sex trade. This isn’t speculation, this is factual, and that is why once these camps pop up femme, trans, and black folks go missing. Often we speak for our Missing and Murdered Indigenous Peoples but Black women and girls are also targeted but with no way to regulate these camps those bodies usually get forgotten. It isn't just Indigenous women, you know? These are sensitive communities full of more than just us, but we are all absorbed under the affected umbrella.

T 一 Well, I know that in order for America to exist, Indigenous peoples and tribes had to be removed. The very essence of American culture is in fact forced removal and genocide. As much as it shocks us and makes us angry, it’s as American as apple pie, we're just seeing what it looks like 500 years later. It may seem passive, but it's still as violent in nature. The biggest issue as to why no one speaks on Indigenous issues is because people don't know the true history. Simple; no one knows the truth about the land they’ve come to call home, and what really went down for so many of us to have the “freedoms” we have. That lack of self-awareness is ultimately what leads to our erasure yet it's hard to get mad at people for not knowing something they never had an option to explore.

M 一 Why is it important that Indigenous people have ownership of the land? Some people don't understand the role of a land caretaker so could you elaborate on that?

T 一 There are frontline blockades and fights happening all over North, Central, and South America. At one point about 20 Indigenous people were being killed a month over protecting their homes against some type of resource extractive industry. So, when we look at this it's not just pipelines, you know? It's the culture of over-extracting. We are taking too much from the earth and we are not giving her enough time to recover. This is our greatest downfall, we have already done things to the earth that we can't reverse but there is hope. Indigenous people make up 5% of the world's population. We manage 22% of the land around the world while 80% of the planet's biodiversity exists in the land we are caretakers. People who've had connections to this land for thousands of years know how to tend to it however not even we can own the land. Rather, the land owns us.

M 一 It seems like you've had to be the ones to share a lot of information most people don't have access to, which is an amazing job you've taken over. What is one thing that keeps getting written out of the media that you wished was talked about? You deserve ownership over your words so talk your shit!

T 一 I'm not going to talk shit but there are conversations that have yet to be had within our own communities. One of those conversations being where our dollars are spent and who we choose to uplift in pop culture and media. Even one of the most beloved and profound leaders of the LGBTQ+ community has ties to the oil industry and that’s Ru Paul

M 一 Rupaul

T 一 Yes! *laughs* Ru Paul owns a fucking fracking ranch on stolen land in so-called Wyoming. It's a plot of land he leases the mineral rights to oil companies for oil extraction. By assumption, because I have no facts on this, one of our favorite Ru Paul productions is brought to you by BIG OIL, and still, crickets… Nothing, not even a conversation as to why she’s chosen profits over people.

M 一 I remember seeing that meme of Ru’s fracking, but honestly I wasn't too familiar with what it was so it kind of escaped my mind. All I knew is that everyone was afraid to talk about it, so I’m glad someone finally brought it up.

T 一 The sad thing is, when you have fracking ranches or oil pipelines, in order to build and maintain them they often build man camps. It’s not just buying a drill and digging one big hole into a mountain, corporations come in and construct hundreds of fracking wells and extract oil from deep beneath to topsoil which completely destroys the land, air, and freshwater tables.

M 一 These are literal camps of male workers?

T 一 Yes. They go work on the pipeline or the fracking well that day and they come “home” to our communities. They'll stay in these camps for weeks at a time. The data right now only shows that of Missing and Murdered cis Women and Girls. Any data on Trans & Two-Spirit people does not exist, yet. So with that, Rupaul is directly supporting a system that is kidnapping and murdering Trans and Two-Spirit people by leasing his ranch’s mineral rights for fracking. I’ve never seen a queer Black person, in the public eye be adored as much as Rupaul; and I have a love for the way she put our people on that platform, but it breaks my heart that Mama Ru won’t even have these conversations on how she takes part in the oppression of our people. It's something I couldn't bite my tongue on. This generation has a huge opportunity to influence someone who has a stake and large investment in the fossil fuel industry, and it’s our responsibility to hold our leaders accountable.

M 一 It’s unfortunate that even some of our Queer leaders can become seduced by the fossil fuel industry, and would even be willing to ignore how it directly affects the same people they’re supposed to lead. What do you have to say, as a two-spirited leader, to any queer youth reading this?

T 一 I just want our Trans and Two-Spirit youth to know you can exist in any form you choose. We have a right to be safe in our homelands. We have a right to be safe during our ceremonies. We deserve to be more than silent. At one point Two-Spirit people were regarded with admiration and respect. We were chiefs, warriors, and healers; we played important roles within our communities. It’s time that we reclaim that power and identify those roles. We are still here and the world deserves to see our light.

M 一 Last questions I have, what resources are there for people who want to educate themselves on how to support indigenous communities and fight the climate crisis?

T 一Any young QT BIPOC interested in organizing with more Indigenous youth can go to the International Indigenous Youth Council by visiting www.indigenousyouth.org. The IIYC is completely run by young QT BIPOC and we have chapters in different cities you can link with. Very specifically, I work with the Denver chapter (@iiyc580). I also invite folks to mobilize with young people globally on October 29 as we hit the streets to demand a Fossil Free Future!

You can get involved and organize locally by visiting FossilFreeFuture.earth!

Aside from that, my Instagram is always a place folks can engage with the movement beyond Indigenous Peoples Day.

A’ho Mitakuye Oyasin - All My Relations

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 wraps 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’m going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounds fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I hope the inside mirrors this, maybe 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 make a mental note to not drink too much liquid; the bathroom line is almost as long as the line to get in. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provide 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.

I spend a good thirty minutes grinding my hips before swaying to 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 hear Shigecki’s set start so I head back to dance. I’m jumping around, sweating, and I yelp when I pause for a beat. Strippers have materialized and are 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.