Early on in Trans Femme, a character says something that a staggering number of trans women—and trans people in general—will likely relate to far too well: “Society can’t stand to be around trans women, so we can’t either.”
To be trans is to be constantly at war with yourself. Even though many find solace in knowing that our trans sisters are part of that same battle, some can’t help but see things we hate about ourselves reflected in others.
The newest production from prolific Portland playwright Mikki Gillette and her longtime collaborator director Asae Dean, Trans Femme invites its audience inside a tiny support group for a deliberately messy, intimate view.
The staging is relatively svelte: five trans women (and one token cis woman), connected through a trans femme group. There’s a common joke in the trans community that the longer any group of trans people exists, the more likely it is that its members will start hooking up.
The group’s aforementioned cis woman Fran (Morgan James) repeats this joke—remarking that their support group essentially doubles as a dating service—introducing the idea that all the members are, in some way, romantically involved with each other. Newcomer / baby trans Leela (Robin Amico) begins dating group leader Astrid (Emilia Harrison), who is in a polyamorous relationship with the other group leader, the permanently angry Sloan (Naomi Mcusic). Meanwhile, Sloan’s other partner, the angelic Kat (Nicki Darling), is having an affair with Sunny (Lena Way), and it’s an open secret to everyone except her wife, Fran.
The unfolding drama is as messy as it sounds. It was inevitable; this is a group whose web of romantic entanglements resembles a tiny version of Alice’s lesbian interconnectivity chart in The L-Word, or at very least, the song “Pepper” by Butthole Surfers. Astrid gets with Leela, Sunny cheats on Fran, and Sloan shares her outlook on the topic of the (trans) scene.
Whether any of these women are truly happy is up for debate. We watch the budding romance between Astrid and Leela walk hand-in-hand with Sloan’s visible, seething rage—which Leela seems far too keen to egg on. Sunny and Kat’s relationship is sweet on the surface, but inherently transactional, as Sunny offers to pay for one of Kat’s gender-affirming surgeries. Hell, even jilted lover Fran struggles not to misgender her own wife. The play contains an upbeat tone, but it’s hard to feel that happy for the characters or even root for most of them.
That’s not to say the players aren’t intensely lovable, though. The performances are all refreshingly naturalistic; it’s easy to feel for these characters, even to wish you could befriend and gently fix many of them.
As Leela, Amico is a thrill to watch; she’s constantly ping-ponging between the glee of being a newly minted woman surrounded by other trans women, and the glee of being a horny, chaotic shit-stirrer. Way’s approach to Sunny is similarly delightful—her bubbly and cartoonish stage presence provides the perfect counterbalance for someone standing amid the rubble of a collapsing marriage.
Mcusic is astounding. The constant anger that courses through Sloan feels incredibly real, as if there were no audience in front of her. If you go see Trans Femme, which you definitely should, Mcusic’s performance alone provides more than enough reason.
Arguably, the best part of Trans Femme is the setting. It’s still 2011, a time when the group members can plausibly be bickering in person about bickering they engaged in on Facebook groups, but before the hideous sting of today’s landscape of endless transphobia. They know society can’t stand trans women, but North Carolina’s HB2 bathroom bill—aimed at preventing trans people from using the correct bathroom—was still five years away.
As viewers, we wish wholeheartedly that these babes will chill the hell out, stop banging each other in spite of the damage it causes, and maybe even decline to rip each other’s throats out all the time. Yes, it’s funny to hear Sloan defend a friend by saying they’re “a delusional slut, which means she’s fun to be around.” But the body blow still echoes: “Society can’t stand to be around trans women, so we can’t either.”
Not every group of trans women behaves like this gaggle of femmes, but we can’t lie: it’s a hell of a lot of fun to watch their messiness unfold.
Fuse Theatre Ensemble presents Trans Femme at the Back Door Theatre, 4319 SE Hawthorne, through Oct 25, admission priced Give As You’re Able Friends (GAY AF), reccommended donation $25, tickets and showtimes at fusetheatreensemble.com, all ages that yearn for dating drama.
