The Guide on How to Love the Movement and Still Be Seen as Human

Elle Hearns is the co-founder of the now defunct Trans Women of Color Collective Ohio, the former central regional coordinator for GetEQUAL (an LGBTQ non-profit focused on equality), and a strategic partner to the Black Lives Matter Network. Now based in Washington D.C., Elle is finding even stronger support for the work she is passionate about. From a liberation standpoint she is shining new light on how entities perform Anti-Blackness, all the while doing what she can to propel the Black Lives Matter movement forward. The grace embodied by dancers, as with the patterns of love, is grounded in the foundation of movement. Dancers have the ability to migrate from one space to another, with the hope for transformation through movement at every step. Social movements, whether toward the liberation of Black bodies, or the freedom to love and be loved by all Black lives, similarly bring a momentum that constantly fuels the next pirouette, the next sashay. Figuring out her place within those intersections, with head held high, is the way Elle Hearns moves through a room — and one could argue, within herself. With her journey supported by the mentorship of trans activist greats like Juan Evans, Miss Major, and Miss Janetta, the 29-year-old organizer, dancer, and art enthusiast from Columbus, Ohio knows each step forward is a necessary act of opening up. Yet, even in sitting down and speaking about her life as an activist and her search for love, there is an inner radiance as she expresses herself that proves the movement really lies in the marrow of her bones.

“There is a spiritual work for me that is connected to the power of the people. You have to be able to feel something. Not only now, but forever.”

“The movement,” in Elle’s definition, “is visual depiction of emotion.” She continues, “I think about it in relation to people who are constantly moving, who are constantly emoting. There have been so many entry points for Black people around the term ‘movement’ in the historical context of colonialism. So for me, movement is very large and it’s also very loose because everyone has a different entry point. My entry point is one of reference to Black Lives Matter.” Elle’s poignant role in the development of the Black Lives Matter Network, is where her love for those who are on the margins of the movement shines. Her goal is to see those left behind due to systems of oppression — particularly those who are poor, Black, and of trans experience — step up into roles of leadership. For her, intersectionality is not just a concept that is taught, it is a lived experience.

Elle has had a heavy hand in creating some of the most historic moments of the Black Lives Matter experience, such as The Movement for Black Lives Convening held in Cleveland, and Black Trans Liberation Tuesday, a national day of action for trans women who have been murdered. Although Elle sits proudly as a pioneer in these achievements, she also feels that people treat her as having a monolithic view of freedom. The struggle in having other people define her work based on her experience as a person who is Black and trans, is that those two are the only experiences other people deem she has the authority to speak on. Being Black, trans, poor, formerly incarcerated, uneducated, and a survivor of sexual assault are only some of Elle’s numerous identities. She views her work as limitless, using her personal knowledge as avenues of freedom leading to more than just liberation for Black transfolk.

When asked about her inspirations, her answers range from the San Francisco 49ers’ Colin Kaepernick’s outspokenness around the oppression of Black bodies, to mothers and families whose loved ones have been murdered by the police, to every time Serena Williams lives her fullest life unapologetically. Elle is also deeply inspired by those who simply “don’t give a fuck.” When asked to name the three top things that she is committed to most within the movement, she is conflicted. After much though, she settles on abolishing the police, creating support for Black women (especially those who have been affected by trauma and violence), as well as support for the arts. “And dismantling the government,” she says with a grin. Yet, to only focus on Elle’s work as an activist is limiting because she is so much more than that. Even Elle’s small frame shifting in her chair gives an air of constant exploration. Her energy and focus flow from the goal of the liberation of her people, to the liberation of herself. When she speaks and laughs, her voice fills the room with commanding warmth. Her tone invites people to move from stoic action to the candidness of love.

BLACK LOVE AND FAIRY TALES

“For Black trans women like Elle, finding stable love, and even respect as a powerful being, is an uphill battle especially in the confines of patriarchy.”

If the movement of love were water, Elle would flow right off the edge of the red chair she sits in. There is a glow that comes across her face, a constant gentle flashing from the distance in her eyes, that makes it look as if she is always watching her favorite love story, curled up under a blanket on her bed, surrounded by her Ebony and Essence magazines. At this particular moment, the question I ask, “what does love mean to you?” swirls around in her head.

“Love means everything to me. I think about my childhood self and the type of love that I desired, all in relation to fairy tales. I believed in a Prince Charming, it was very much in relationship to heteronormativity, which has been a consistent contradiction to me, and what I believe in. But I am so interested in talking about the contradictions.” For Elle, sex, intimacy, and love as a Black trans woman conflate like a tango, one in which the partners step on each other’s feet, a lot. Within the movement, activists are seen as pillars of their community, full of force and (mistakenly) layered in armor as they continuously fight against the systems of oppression. It’s an experience she knows too well — if you are a “visible person,” people don’t see you as human. Activists on the front lines of the movement are often seen as impenetrable superheroes. For Black trans women like Elle, finding stable love, and even respect as a powerful being, is an uphill battle especially in the confines of patriarchy.“Men respond to power very differently when they don’t view you as powerful. That has been another thing that I have been learning as I continue to organize. There is energy around that. This perception that ‘you’re a boss’ — there is something intriguing about that, and also something that is intimidating. Which is why [someone] can profess [their] love and disappear, and that is something that I have directly experienced in the past year.”

Though she clearly recognizes the heteronormativity of the storylines, movies that define the Black experience of love in the ‘90s and early 2000s (such as Love Jones, Brown Sugar, and Jason’s Lyric) are still her standards for love. Elle passionately describes balancing the movement of all Black people from the bottom up, while continuing to leave her door open just in case a leading man, like Larenz Tate, winds up on her doorstep. There are so many things that Elle has yet to resolve within herself — particularly her arrest in June 2014. Still, she is open to seeking love and forgiveness for herself and the systems of pain that we live in. As she sips on her Sierra Mist, she sits with her heart open, as if to accept the love ahead, making room and space in her heart for the messy process. Love continues to be a violent thing for Black trans women. Yet, Elle isn’t without hope. She knows that she deserves being, seeing, and experiencing love. “When people love black trans women, they will be able to love themselves.” I peer over my glasses as I catch her truth — the truth — wrapped in her voice with intensity. “Everyone?” I ask. Even within Anti-Oppression work itself, when it comes to the lives of Black trans women, society’s lens magnifies death. We have lost 20 trans women this year in the United States thus far (that we are aware of ), and while we are mourning of their bodies, we are not necessarily in communion and recognition with their souls. We aren’t hearing the stories of how they loved, if they were loved, or whether they were even deserving of love. The message we as society are left with is that love kills Black trans women, so in the end they do not deserve to have it at all. “Everyone,” she replies.

“What [love] looks like is someone offering their complete self to me beyond what the societal offerings are to trans women. There is also respect to all of the things that I am; which is a sexual being, as well as a being who likes to dream and feel. I like dates. I like surprises. Take me somewhere that is a complete surprise to me. I love thinkers, so if you are really able to think of something creative and interactive, that will set you apart. And then follow through — if you are able to follow through the whole date, make sure that I am ok. Make sure I don’t have anything in my teeth, also just be assuring. Those are hopefully the things that someone was taught to do, and if not, you’re an actor for the night. Play that.” She picks up her drink, and laughs at the challenge she has placed in front of her future suitor. Elle is also an activist who to her core defends the agency of women and their ability to give consent, including her own, so the wooing isn’t without critique or standards. Kisses on the cheek are welcomed, but Elle likes intentions known early. “That will go a long way because it gives me the agency to decide whether or not I even want to go on a date.” As with her work in the movement, Elle does not leave without unpeeling the layers within that exchange. She says she wants to work harder to make sure that these consent conversations are happening be-fore discussions of sex. In the words of Justice to Lucky in Poetic Justice, “let’s cut the bullshit.”

ELLE, THE DREAM

“I think that nobody knows how to love like a Black trans woman. To experience every part of identity is not something that can be taught. I think that Black women period are the gateway to Heaven.”

A fluorescent magical glow overcomes Elle when asked how she loves herself. “I am constantly learning how to love myself. And the thing is, this is the longest relationship you will ever have. And I find new ways to love myself every single day. I love the risks that I take. I love the challenges that I have even internally on what to say, what to do. I love to find new ways to be open to talking about myself. I have been taught that if you talk about yourself, then you have an ego. I am learning to love myself in ways that people say that I couldn’t.” It’s as if she is her own prince charming, the one she’s been waiting for, the one she can walk away with hand in hand when the rallies and speaking events are over, and the protest signs are put away. “I think that nobody knows how to love like a Black trans woman. To experience every part of identity is not something that can be taught. I think that Black women period are the gateway to Heaven. I think that Black trans women experience things that the world will never know, and that is what sets Black trans women apart.”

But are we as a society ready to love and take in Black trans women? Elle’s face looks honest and solemn. “I don’t know,” she replies. “I think it is still yet to be seen. I know that in my life, I don’t think people are truly ready. But it’s another one of the goals.”

And this goal is the goal above all others: For society to make space for a love, for freedom, for liberation that many are not ready for. To open our hearts, ears and bodies to the unexpected, and to be led by those who know it so much better than ourselves. As these forces of justice and love are combined, in the end, Elle is the movement: #blackgirlmagic personified. She is a Black trans woman who lives and survives with the marks of being poor, a survivor of rape, and incarceration. Her passion for her people is an expression of her love for herself. “A goal will feel reached if one person can tell me that they are living their dream. That hasn’t happened yet. I’ve heard ‘I’m inspired by you,’ which is great, but I am just waiting for the one person that tells me that they’re living their dream.”

I peel off my glasses to look into her eyes and ask, “are you living your dream?” Elle answers sitting poised and upright, “This is the work that I have always imagined myself to do. So I think of this work as artistry. As something that will live on forever which is why I try to be very specific and strategic about what I organize and how I organize. There is a spiritual work for me that is connected to the power of the people. You have to be able to feel something. Not only now, but forever.”

In this special collaboration with photographer Tiffany Smith, Posture produced an original editorial and interview with Elle Hearns for our third print issue. 

Posture’s third print issue — The Boss Issue — is now available for purchase. This 168-page magazine features exclusive interviews with artists, theorists, activists, and nightlife icons. The conversations dive deep into ideas of leadership, success, and organizing in queer/trans/non-binary and WOC communities. This issue also represents a new design direction for Posture, one that reflects the mission and purpose of the publication.

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