Kokomo City: the charismatic women of D. Smith’s lyrical documentary tell it like it is

Capturing the beauty as well as the hardships that course through the lives of Black trans sex workers living in Atlanta and New York, D. Smith’s singular debut keeps things magnificently real. A Grammy-nominated producer who has worked with Lil Wayne, Ciara and numerous other established musicians, Smith found herself sidelined and blacklisted by the recording industry following her own transition. But her clear, distinctive sense of rhythm – presumably developed from those years behind a mixing desk – is imprinted on every frame of this documentary, pulsing through the crisp high-contrast black-and-white cinematography. In the face of life’s blues, the music never stops.

The title Kokomo City also has a musical root, inspired by the legendary singer Kokomo Arnold, whose 1930s song ‘Sissy Man Blues’ speaks of precarious dis- placement, sexual longing and repressed queer desires. These feelings are palpable in the film’s wild and witty opening, which impresses with its candidness and the sheer peril of the anecdote being recounted. As Liyah, a trans sex worker, recalls how she once spotted a gun on a client, the screen splinters into energetic visual flourishes, including a spinning 3-D animated rendering of a revolver and breathless re-enactment of the tense incident. Out of fear, Liyah had grabbed the weapon and tried to shoot the man, only to find out that it was not loaded. Punctuated by Liyah’s droll asides, bold sound effects, and a funk jazz score, the soundscape places us squarely in the point of view of a resilient sex worker, who sees the absurdity amid the dangers of a frightening situation.

While the ruckus turned out to be a misunderstanding, Liyah’s story highlighted the mortal threats posed by male clients, which leave trans sex workers in a constant state of hypervigilance. Unable to come to terms with their attraction to trans women, some straight men with a homophobic and rigid understanding of masculinity often resort to violent and even homicidal abuse towards trans sex workers.

But Kokomo City also suggests the possibility of an escape from such bigotry. As the camera lingers on the beautiful form of a dancer in the middle of a delicate routine, the evocative sequence is juxtaposed with testimonials from men who are unapologetically attracted to trans women. Shot in close-up, an interview with a happy couple who have risen above societal prejudices communicates their love and intimacy in the smallest gestures. A simple look – or a touch of the hand – is imbued with a shared understanding and softness that feels like a shield against intolerance.

Far from bidding for sympathy, the charismatic women of Kokomo City tell it like it is. For Koko Da Doll, a sex worker and aspiring musician, the harm she endured was not only at the hands of strangers but also from her own flesh and blood. After she came out, she was turned out of her sister’s house and became homeless. Tragically, Koko Da Doll was murdered shortly after the film’s premiere at Sundance.

In addition to brutality from cis Black men, Daniella, another trans sex worker, talks of how she struggled to find solidarity among cis Black women. Turning a critical lens on the prejudices that exist within their own community, these unvarnished comments attest to the complex reality of the Black trans experience. They also exemplify Smith’s refusal to cloak her film within the comfortable parameters of respectability politics. Often shot from a low angle, which gives the feel of a girl-talk session during a sleepover, the conversations between Smith and her subjects have a vivacious, lived-in authenticity that transcends ‘political correctness’ or impersonal talking points regurgitated by transphobic headlines.

Against these looming clouds of abuse and precarity, Kokomo City also luxuriates in the joy and the glamour of being a woman. Intuitive in its movements, Smith’s camera beautifully inhabits the living quarters of the women as they go about their daily rituals and beauty routines. When Dominique lounges about her New York flat in gorgeous dresses, Smith films her like a video vixen. Reclining on her satin-draped bed, Dominique blows cigarette smoke into the air, her sensuous pose resembling that of an old Hollywood movie star. These striking moments in which trans women take charge of how they want to be seen powerfully resist the dehumanising gaze of others, which range on a spectrum between fetishism and ridicule. Kokomo City never shies from the darkness but it also makes space for the light, for the excitement and, above all, for the music.

► Kokomo City is in UK cinemas from 4 August.