By Joelle Bayaa-Uzuri
I live my life by two mottos: “Be an unapologetic, bad bitch,” and “Be the woman and person you’ve always needed in life.” I am a strong, confident, and bold Black trans woman who is not afraid to embrace the intersectionality of her identity; one who is unafraid to take the road less traveled and to be a trailblazer.
I have lived by those mottos since I started my journey into the queer spectrum. For me, this mentality was never a choice; it was simply a way of life. Being Black and queer, we are often tasked with intersectional feelings of guilt and shame, and I have always been vested in the principle of standing firm and tall in my truth; even when it was lonely, scary, and I was the only one doing so.
At an early age, I knew that I was “different,” and growing up as the oldest army kid of a single mother wasn’t the only reason I felt that way. I can remember being more in-tune with my feminine identity as young as six years old, when I living in Newport News, Virginia. Although I didn’t know the terminology, I was very vocal about my feelings. I was unhappy being forced to embrace a male identity that was uncomfortable and unnatural, and did my part to fight it every step of the way. Even when I attempted to adhere to gender norms to appease my mother, in an attempt to fit in and not create waves, it never felt right or authentic.
Photo by Dani Benoit.
As I got older, I became more and more vocal about embracing my true, authentic self. But after moving to St. Louis, I found the urban city streets were different from the more rural, suburban Newport News—more restrictive in their acceptance of anything different. I remember living on the Northside of St. Louis and being ridiculed, laughed at, and picked on. But I still persevered, knowing even then that my life was not defined by the words and thoughts of others.
When I graduated high school, I decided to move to a place where I could continue on my journey toward freedom of self-expression: Los Angeles, California. LA was a place where I could live authentically, a place ranked as one of the largest and most diverse cities in the country. It was in LA where I came into my own and truly embraced my identity.
My journey is and has been less about me coming to terms with my trans identity, and more so about being a Black trans woman and embracing the intersectionality of my identity.
I didn’t have any role models or anyone to look to for guidance or advice. Oftentimes, the journey of a trans person is solitary, and mine was no exception. Many chapters within my story and transition were often lonely; I didn’t have anyone to go to. I was left to come to terms with my trans identity all on my own—what it meant and how to express transness as a Black woman.
I went through the self-exploratory phases most trans women go through: exploring and experimenting with fashion, my expression, and presentation of my identity. But unlike most trans women, I had the advantage of being able to transition while still active in my career within the fashion industry.
Working in fashion gave me the tools I needed to be able to walk and stand in my truth confidently. I was able to be my biggest and most grand self. Being a production manager at an all-inclusive company like American Apparel, for example, helped to encourage and foster my self-expression.
As I began to come into my own, I looked around and saw that there wasn’t anyone who really looked like me or who was living their life as freely. In a time before Pose, before it was “in” to embrace gender fluidity and go against gender norms, there weren’t many trans women (especially Black trans women) living their life out, loud, and proud—even in a liberal melting pot like LA. Trans women in Los Angeles tended to be relegated to the shadows, to street corners of West Hollywood and night clubs.
I defied this stereotype and created my own reality. My reality was that I didn’t want to adhere to anyone’s preconceived notions, stereotypes, or prejudiced tropes of what a trans woman was or should be. I vehemently pursued my career even more aggressively. I made it a point to hold my head up high and to make my presence known everywhere I went. The unfortunate fact that, as a Black trans woman, I would have to work three times as hard for half of the respect, visibility, and recognition didn’t deter me.
As I got older, success and life became less about monetary gains, moving up the ladder, or hitting some heteronormative societal benchmark. It became about living my life on my own terms, a life that, even in my new home in Houston, Texas, is full, free, and uninhibited. It’s about being true not only to myself, but standing firm and tall in my truth. It’s also about knowing that I can do or be absolutely anything I want to, regardless of what society says. And for me, that will always be an “unapologetic, bad bitch.”
