There is so much to be afraid of nowadays – from rollbacks of important LGBTQ+ protections by the U.S. Supreme Court to the consequences of genocidal violence in Palestine, Sudan, the Congo, and Haiti. More people than ever seem overwhelmed by ceaseless anxiety these days. I am no different. As a Black trans woman, it can be difficult to find spaces where we are genuinely celebrated, let alone at ease and safe. My first instinct, when I’m dominated by fear, is to say “no” to everything, even connections that can be fruitful and loving.
Thankfully, the Angelito Collective, an evolving, New York-based group of creative, Black trans femmes co-founded by artists Demíyah and Sol Angel in 2019, have a balm for this stifling fear. Their ethos is to lead with love — a sentiment that was on comprehensive display at the tenth sitting of the Collective’s ongoing series called, simply, Black Trans Dinner. Nonetheless, when I was invited to attend the event, my first instinct was to politely decline.
But first, I agreed to a Zoom call with Demíyah and fellow Collective member Ramie, who captures photos for their archive, to consider attending. In a sun-drenched Brooklyn apartment, Demíyah gave me an overview of the group’s history – how they came together with the intention of loving each other; how everything they do is rooted in a desire to uplift and celebrate. She spoke calmly about serving food to Black trans women as an offering of rest, a moment to take a breath from a hostile world. She told me how the upcoming dinner’s menu would fuse Black soul food and Palestinian cuisine – hybrid nourishment that responds to intertwined, ongoing struggles for collective liberation. She told me about other healing offerings for guests before dinner was served: ear seeding and acupuncture, herbalism workshops, and craft making from found materials. Golden light streamed into the room as Demí and Ramie spoke, casting a luminous glow on their smiling, relaxed faces. For the first time in a long time, I said yes.
A few days after the call, I stroll up to Bushwick Grows!, a lush community farm. After passing rows of lilac bushes dotted with sunflowers, Demí greets me with a warm hug, as if I was already a close friend, a sister.
Nineties R&B jams play on low volume as Demí guides me to a seat in the shade, tucked away in the back of the garden. I watch as women in summer dresses sprawl serenely along the garden’s benches. The gentle hum of their chatter and the snaps of their paper fans add to the soothing atmosphere. I’m struck by the stark contrast from the occasionally chaotic energy of other trans gatherings. “Sometimes nightlife is the only offering [within our community],” Demí tells me. “[We’re] really thinking about how to still take the beautiful elements that nightlife does have of the congregation of [the] community, bringing art into the space, bringing gathering. ” At that, Demí takes a moment to look out lovingly at the 40 or so girls making herbal concoctions, taking Polaroids in the idyllic garden. A more intimate setting, they add, removes certain social pressures for Black trans women to perform, allowing for greater authenticity.
A little while later, Demí introduces me to Divine, a recent addition to the Angelito Collective. Divine, newly living in New York from Detroit, helped style a recent shoot the collective produced for Office Magazine. Joining Angelito Collective has not only been a boon for her professional career, which Divine says helps put more “girls like us in the rooms where our stories are told” – but for her personal growth.
“I’m the new girl on the block,” she says with a laugh, tossing back her blonde braids. She tells me about her time in Detroit, how she lived with three other trans women with whom she remains close. For Divine, New York’s community is more expansive. “[Events like these] connect you to the people that will love you and care for you and accept you for who you are,” she says. “ [The people] just want to see you thrive. You could just feel the love… which is really nice.”
An announcement for a group tarot reading pulls the girls to a long picnic table. As birds chirp, a gentle, cooling breeze breaks the day’s heat, and we listen to the tarot reader foretell a season of allowing abundance, which requires dropping our burdens; and of taking bold new leaps of faith, because we are ready for expansion.
Soon after, Chefs Julian Alexander and Elias Rischmawi of Sahoury Soul, an Afro-Palestinian food pop-up that prepares meals for queer events, arrive to finish preparations for what would be a sumptuous three-course meal. Alexander and Rischmawi start us off with vegan and vegetarian versions of spiced labneh and pita, as well as a crisp, refreshing watermelon salad, seasoned with pepper and mint. The pair explain the significance of the watermelon: a symbol of both Black and Palestinian self-determination, a crop grown by farmers there and in the American South by slaves. As Alexander, who is Black and a fourth-generation New Yorker, and Rischmawi, who is Palestinian-Chilean, invoke their ancestors, their voices resonate with palpable emotion. I glance around the table and see young and elder Black women closing their eyes to take in the beautiful, united display of peace and solidarity.
Alexander and Rischmawi, who are not just partners in Sahoury Soul but a couple, usually serve queer communities in Miami. The call to serve at a dinner uplifting Black trans women in New York felt vital.
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“I think it's important to be able to serve the most vulnerable among us, but also those who bring about the culture and those who unfortunately don't always get the love that they deserve,” Alexander tells me.
Adds Rischmawi, “It’s so special when [we are all] together because they're enjoying food and different flavors that they've never tasted before, but also learning history and how our struggles are all connected, too.”
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As the sun begins its descent, we share roasted potatoes, baked chicken, and hearty greens. I find myself sitting across from Ke’ron, a dancer and performance artist, and, as it happens, a fellow Cancer. We speak excitedly over the music about astrology and overcoming anxiety. I tell her how my tendency to say “no” was beautifully challenged by the dinner.
This isn’t Ke’ron’s first dinner. I catch her on the way out to grab an Uber – which, along with take-home bags of produce, served as a final gift offered by the Angelito Collective to all the women in attendance. “Coming to these dinners feels like being able to walk into a space of gracious mirrors,” she says. “And a mirror in the sense that everyone has their own journey, but there's this deep connective tissue that we all share that I don’t get to experience out in the rest of the world.”
Then Ke'ron pauses, gathering her thoughts. “Church. It feels like church, a gift.”
Produce for the tenth Black Trans Dinner was provided by: Morning Glory Community Garden, Bronx; New Roots Community Garden, Bronx; Sunset Community Garden, Bushwick Grows Community Farm, Brooklyn, Rock Steady Farm, and FIG.
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