Hi, my name is Reina, and I am a Trans woman beginning a new chapter as a film student in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. My art is rooted in music, dance, and film, where I center the body — especially the Black and Trans body — as a site of liberation from oppression and violence. I use film to confront biopolitics, to showcase resilience, and to insist on our visibility and survival.
This summer, however, I endured one of the most difficult and traumatic periods of my life. From January to April, I was living in Harlem, New York, with an individual who had a criminal record for physically assaulting LGBTQ people. During that time, I endured verbal harassment, slammed doors, being denied access to cook, and ultimately being pushed out after this person cut off the Wi-Fi and called the police to force me out of the apartment. I was then displaced to Yonkers, where by June I faced an unlawful eviction with only 24 hours to vacate.
In the past three years, I have been displaced more than five times. This summer alone, I was homeless and couch-surfing, moving from apartment to apartment, never able to find peace. I had to give away or donate many of my personal belongings — objects I had carried with me since I was a little girl. Losing these items was not only materially devastating but spiritually wounding, as they grounded my inner child. This came after already losing my biological family the day after Christmas in 2022.
To add to the instability, in one month alone I had the police called on me five different times by a white racist neighbor. Toxic housing situations followed me right up until the day I left the United States for school. I did not have any peace this entire year.
My story is not just personal — it reflects the systemic reality for Trans people in the United States. According to the U.S. Transgender Survey, nearly 1 in 3 Trans people (30%) experience homelessness in their lifetime, and more than 1 in 10 (12%) report being homeless in just the past year. For Trans women of color, the rates are even higher due to racism, transphobia, and systemic exclusion. I am one of those statistics. This is my truth, my “theories in the flesh,” as Gloria Anzaldúa wrote — where the body carries the lived evidence of oppression.
Now, as I begin my studies, I still face urgent financial needs:
• Tuition: I still owe over $1,500 for this semester.
• Housing: I was able to secure insecure housing for September, but I urgently need safe, stable housing for the rest of the year.
• Healthcare: Monthly global health insurance is essential to keep me safe as a Trans woman abroad.
• Phone & Subscriptions (~$150/month): Vital for my mental health, staying connected, and maintaining the active status of my business ventures.
• Transportation: Daily travel to and from university requires consistent support to ensure my safety.
Every dollar you contribute goes directly toward survival and stability, so I can continue to create art that reflects my truth and uplifts the lives of others. Supporting me means investing in a future where Black and Trans voices in the Caribbean are not erased but instead shaping global conversations in art and film.
Thank you for standing with me in solidarity. Your generosity is not just helping me survive — it is helping me build a future where Trans liberation is real, embodied, and unstoppable.
Organizer and beneficiary
