All photos courtesy of Camp Gay Bones Productions

A Non-Binary Teen Sees a “Trans Conversation” with Their Dad

By Ysa Madrigal

This article is part of the Stage Raw/Unusual Suspects Youth Journalism Fellowship

June 8, 2024, the day before LA’s oldest and largest Pride Parade commences. Rainbow flags, lights, and decor have been strung across LA since the beginning of the month. Also welcoming in the month of June, the Hollywood Fringe Festival – the annual celebration of theater, hosting shows daily across 1.4 square miles of Los Angeles. On the evening of the 8th, I was on my way to the Zephyr Theatre with my dad, my rock throughout my coming to terms with queerness during my teen years (which are soon coming to an end). We were about to witness the premiere of playwright Maddox Pennington’s A Third Space: Trans Conversation Project, a show that eventually resonated for the both of us.

A Third Space, expertly directed by Elisawon Etidorhpa, follows several characters – some recurring and others not – at different locations, circumstances of meeting, ages, and points in their lives. They are loosely connected by their trans identities  – an imperfect description given how their differing trans experiences are what draw some characters away from one another rather than towards connection. The play’s intermittent narrative conveys the true and verbatim stories of individuals interviewed by the Trans Conversation Project, conducted in February 2024. The entire cast of the show (including the playwright and director) is transgender, nonbinary, and/or gender non-conforming.

My father and I entered the theater from the stage-right door entrance, initially surprised that the seating faced back at us, unknowingly welcoming the full-on immersion we were soon to experience. We found our seats as projected images of historic transgender icons, accompanied by pop music, flashed on a hanging screen. Before the cast came onto the stage, four scattered chairs facing the audience occupied the stage with moody lighting throughout the opening sequence – a moment I found quite poetic as it symbolized the concept of “holding space” – a popular phrase in the LGBTQ+ community – by being unapologetically queer.

“My queerness isn’t often the topic of conversation between us, nor is my dad a theater-enthusiast in the way I am, so this experience opened an opportunity for me to share this part of myself with him as we discussed it on the way home over some street tacos.” 

 

The show opened with three separate conversations and respective vibes before the characters eventually interacted with each other, presenting the main themes for the rest of the production: intergenerational discussions, related experience, and a lot of nuance. The show is organized so that between each scene there were intimate monologues performed by individual characters about their experiences with gender.

Some moments in the show, anchors such as character names or set locations were a bit hard to follow due to the lack of their statement and sparse staging, but didn’t take away from the material and passion being presented by any means.

“I call it my wallet name…I’m not dead, I’m here to enjoy it!” said one of the characters on the topic of “dead names” in a waiting room surrounded by fellow transgender people awaiting gender-specific services. The group, made up of four young people and two older trans women, each shared stories about their experiences with medical mistreatment. While an older trans woman (Chloe Corcoran) described “not expecting them to find [her] DNA” under her lived name when her medical file and genetic makeup says otherwise, the younger folks were more insistent on holding practitioners who are meant to be hormone specialists accountable to respecting their preferences.

The juxtaposition between the two groups prompted a short exchange about their differing expectations and experiences, highlighting each generation’s merit to acceptance and accommodation. The group was united at the end by jokes about “ally-guilt’ and the assumption of education that cis-het people project onto trans people. This lightened the mood and ushered in a monologue about embracing identity despite the political environment.

“There’s no law that can make a person disappear” said Lynk (Caden Healander), young trans male from red-state Kentucky, describing his experience as a “country himbo” – at which I admittedly giggled  – and discovering his transness. Amid candid confessions about his personal journey, he acknowledged the horrific uprise of anti-transgender legislation across the nation. Lynk passionately affirmed that queer joy and queer love still exist within those states despite how badly their governments do not want them. Bathed in the warmth of a moody spotlight reflecting his pride, Lynk continued describing how happy his transition has made him.

The unapologetic embracing of identity, coping with humor, and inside jokes perfectly represented young queer people to a T. There were also mentions of online communities  – which were explored more later in the show — that I related to a lot and was happy to see represented.

Next, the stage was transformed into a restaurant lobby with some ambient noises and a couple of chairs as two young characters  – Ki (Nico Pang) and Safa (Joie Mitchell) – waiting to be seated spoke with the slightly older Anna (Corcoran). The group talked about the growth in non-binary visibility and what being non-binary was like before there was a label to it. They all agreed on the exhaustion derived from being openly gender-nonconforming and constantly educating others on what that means, concluding in an all around love for T4T  – transgender for transgender  – relationships and friendships.

As Ki and Safa were called to their table, Anna pondered on her experience and the relationship issues that she had briefly mentioned to the two: her confusing recent attraction to men as a trans woman. She had struggled finding suitable men her age to date and was not having much luck with women either, even joking about how being in the lesbian dating scene can mean lying about liking someone’s art to have a chance at “getting laid.” Anna’s feeling of being unworthy or undesirable because of her trans identity is a lifelong burden that she’d been carrying, most of it unknowingly until she came out later in life.

Anna’s touching story left me thinking about how unconventional  — apart from the same-sex part– queer relationship dynamics can be. Anna brought up a personal story about her affairs with both a man and a woman, and having to “come out” all over again. This reminded me of how common it is for younger people to label themselves early on and then –more frequently than queer elders– change labels later. The act of so quickly labeling oneself reflects how we queer people have evolved to become more comfortable being outwardly queer and fluid, a direct parallel to Anna’s experience.

The scene returned to Ki and Safa at the restaurant, now joined by a friend, planning an event that morphed into a “party-turned-gender studies conference.” Initially, the event was a pride celebration with educational aspects, but it got “too inclusive” as more and more instructional panels got added. One of them jokingly blamed the “Tumblr gay era” for demanding “perfect allies” and activism from queer folks. This sparked a debate about finding a true balance between lecturing and having a conversation about queerness when “they [cis-het people] fuck up so much!” Ki, notably affected by the conversation, chimed in more than once that “Tumblr was a really important space!”

To the song “Sweater Weather” by The Neighbourhood  – and laughter from the audience  – the focus went to Ki, sitting in front of a computer and continuing to defend Tumblr after the conversation at the restaurant. “You can be anyone on the internet – not in a catfish way…” they said, pointing out how Tumblr was a safe space for younger gays since it provided freedom of discussion and “queer vocabulary.” Ki admitted its faults, cliques, and “problematic” people  –“except the spaces I’m in” they half-jokingly opined – yet nonetheless it should be respected seeing as it generally is not by the broader queer community, with the term “Tumblr gay” being derogatory even to this day.

Ki’s segment spoke to me a lot as a young queer person who grew up with – unsupervised – internet access and frequented online queer communities. Being from the age where queerness visibility is the highest it’s ever been, it’s easy to get lost in the broadness of it all and end up not relating to the marketable narratives of queerness, especially as youth who aren’t really represented at all from fear of “indoctrination” allegations.

The stage was then transformed into an audition waiting room where the cast trickled in and were reintroduced as new characters. Eventually, they all listed pet peeves over finding roles considering their identities. Some examples included being typecast for similar parts, being misgendered, and feeling limited in transitioning for the sake of a job–all the while being consulted for their identity in the first place! “Diversity strikes again!” Some of the younger characters mentioned not particularly caring if they “pass” in society “for someone who’s probably not going to respect you anyway.” This slightly offended the older Niagara (Sydney Rogers), who then spoke about the grit behind “passing” in her generation.

Niagara shared her experience being profiled for being “visibly” trans, getting an “entertainer’s license” to avoid being arrested, and frequenting the police station from bar raids. For many, “passing” as cisgendered was a privilege to many and small commodities – like seeing her lived name on bills or being treated with basic respect – were big victories to her. She fondly recalled being serviced by a friendly woman on the way to getting her gender marker legally changed and treasuring her kindness for years to come. While some of the younger folks stated being intimidated by the older people in the community, Niagara feels that they aren’t much different and that “It’s not like I have Marsha P. Johnson’s number on me!”

“I don’t want to be brave or resilient, I just want to exist!” Niagara added. Being trans is being human; not everyone wants to view their experience as something beautiful, painful, or as something to share with others. At its root, transgenderism is about living, not being, and that is commonly overlooked by people both inside and outside of the community.

Next, two characters (Jae Neal and Nico Pang) found themselves in a waiting room, some sort of legal office, discussing changes to their identifying documents. Initially hesitant to speak to one another, they agreed to disagree on how the “X” gender marker on their ID makes them feel while linking it to disclosing their gender to their relationships. They lamented how some don’t react well or acknowledge their identities, feeling pressured to constantly mask dysphoria and unhappiness, stating; “It’s like they’re like,‘be in pain for me!’”

After speaking about how “keeping life small” meant keeping themselves happier,  Dionne (Neal) spoke about their experience with violence and struggles being open to partners and people in their life. They shared an encounter about assault they experienced in Jamaica and the only thing that kept them from being killed was their skills at masking. “Life has already taught me how to be a good actor.”

Neal’s delivery as Dionne stung and strongly evoked anger, empathy, and understanding as to why that character was so reluctant to speak in the waiting room at first. The scene unfolded with such sensitivity that it didn’t rise to voyeurism or exploitation as queer trauma narratives often are. Instead, it painfully portrayed the hard truth of being queer in an unsupportive environment.

The cast regrouped to set up the protest planned earlier. As they discussed how being openly trans often implies being inherently political today, Ki and Safa had a clash, carrying some lingering tension from their previous disagreement about their differing perspectives. After arguing hypothetical situations, Niagara broke up the debate by opening the space for each of them to talk about their fears, and how though they are different they need to all be there for one another.

As Ki and Safa came to an agreement, Safa expressed their thoughts in a monologue, comparing their journey of accepting their trans experience to that of a jellyfish: defensive yet tender. For Safa, embracing their identity as a black, queer, trans person means “growing into the love and laughter [they] were born from” while having to be weary of how they live when “my components dumbfound my counterparts.”

Safa’s monologue was accompanied by evocative lighting and ocean sounds that created a safe bubble in which to express themselves. I was not surprised to find out that the monologue was written by Mitchell, who depicts Safa, seeing as the appreciation of their culture and identity shone through beautifully.

The show concluded with a final scene on the way to a bus stop with the two older women discussing ranges of topics on their walk. “There’s an infinity of ways to be trans.” “There’s only so much you can change or erase from the past… I’m trying to change for the present,” they agreed, on the topic of changing legal identifications on things like college degrees. They reminisced over their first times seeing trans representation in the media and the joy of seeing other queer people in public.

Leaving us with a bit of wisdom, the show was cut a bit short due to timing issues causing us to miss one scene that will still be performed at all other showings of A Third Space. My father and I enjoyed it very much and, undeterred from the conversations of the “obligation to education,” my dad told me he learned a lot from the show and about me after we discussed it on the way home over some street tacos.

My queerness isn’t often the topic of conversation between us, nor is my dad a theater-enthusiast in the way I am, so this experience opened an opportunity for me to share this part of myself with him.

I particularly appreciate how playful the show was and how it included many inside jokes that truly show how much care was put into it for its queer and trans audience. There were not many sexual or vulgar references that I feel can easily pander to cis-het audiences through comedy, and the more painful scenes were handled very carefully by Etidorhpa. Overall, I enjoyed the show and its social commentary very much. A Third Space is truly a love letter to queer and trans people that says, “we see you, we are you, and we appreciate you.”