D. Smith gives her Audience a Key Behind the Door that Holds the Lives of Trans Sex Workers: Welcome to Kokomo City

By Sofia Hernandez

    In 1967, society’s eyes were opened to the charismatic life of Black gay man Jason L. Holiday through a candid and rare glimpse into his life in Shirley Clarke’s groundbreaking film, Portrait of Jason, exploring a discussion on intersectionality, identity, and representation. By defying conventional documentary forms, its creative methodology promoted critical discourse and empathy regarding societal biases. In 1990, the world was once again introduced to a dialogue about gender, identity, and community, this time through Jennie Livingston’s Paris is Burning, illuminating the vibrant ballroom scene among LGBQ+ communities of color, providing frequently ignored individuals the empowerment and visibility that the mainstream media disregards. Now, in 2023, the world is granted the key into the lives of 4 Black trans sex workers, Daniella Carter, Koko Da Doll, Liyah Mitchell, and Dominique Silver, thanks to the captivating and visually intriguing work of film maker and musician, D. Smith, who welcomed us intto Kokomo City. 

“A temptin’ 

Masquerade

You dress you 

walk you talk 

You’re who 

you think you 

are 

Street life” 

    These are the lyrics of Kokomo City’s opening song, “Street Life” by Randy Crawford. This song simply and about perfectly encapsulates what the audience is about to be introduced to: the raw dynamic and astounding lives of Black trans sex workers in the 21st century. With as progressive as one might believe our society is in 2023, this film serves to prove that wrong, and right, in many different ways. The film’s opening anecedote is that of Liyah Mitchell, who recalls an instance in which she once reached for a client’s gun to shoot him, but realized it wasn’t loaded. Her storytelling and animated hand gestures contribute to the audiences need to know what happens next. She then fell down the stairs, struggling, yet after further explanation, the date was rescheduled for the next night. By starting the scene with what could set the stage for the film to be a suspenseful drama, there is a sense of amusement  as then goes into the enthusiastic buzz of “Street Life.” 

    The many voices heard throughout this film encompass every realm of the reality of life as a black trans woman, especially those in the line of sex work. D. Smith, who herself is a Black trans woman, gives a platform to women who serve as representatives of a community who are very rarely given the opportunity to openly recount their life stories and experiences. In an article published by The New York Times, “This is not a maudlin film; instead it is a movie with heroines who fight tooth and nail for their lives and their self-with” (Bugbee). As hard of a truth that it is, violence will never not be a prominent part of these women’s lives. The exploration of the hardships yet empowerment that these women face daily throughout the entirety of their lives is truly inspiring, and reveals the injuries, both mentally and physically, that these women go through even in this day and age. Many are blind to the reality of this life, yet this film beautifully paints the inspiring perseverance and pride that these women carry themselves with, something that as the movie goes on, the audience is drawn to admire more and more. 

    Daniella Carter’s closing dialogues include the image of a blooming flower which is consistently portrayed on the screen, as a representation of the growth and blossoming of these women’s lives when they transitioned into who they have beautifully become today. There is an on going hypocrisy that is highlighted through each individual’s personal statements and experiences: when looked at by men, these women are seen as women, yet when looked at by women, these women are beautiful until they are “exposed” as a threat, different, and worthless. Towards the end of the movie, Daniella Carter states, “But remember this, the way you not experiencing it is the way I’m experiencing it, and what makes my shit so different?  Because I’m not carrying it out the way you want me to?” 

    The individual interviews with these 4 captivating women, the perspectives of “trans-attracted” men, and the unique stylistic cinematic approach carried out by D. Smith truly leaves an impact on each audience member. The two closing scores, Stacy Barthe’s “Ain’t I a Woman” and D. Smith’s “Children of the Rainbow” perfectly conclude the film in a exciting and lively way that gives viewers a fresh perspective and respect for the tenacity of the black trans community. 

“I want all people to feel empowered. Empowered to open their minds and hearts to a fresher narrative. I want people to feel more comfortable when speaking about or to trans people.” 

D. Smith