“I dream of a world where explanations are unnecessary
— where saying your name is enough.”

Interview conducted by Ariadne, for the TRANScenDANCE project (Italy, 2025)

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Introduction

As part of the TRANScenDANCE project, we continue to explore how movement, art, and personal truth intersect within the lives of transgender and non-binary artists across Europe. Each voice brings a unique light to the shared pursuit of authenticity and belonging.

In this conversation, conducted by Ariadne, we meet Liriophe, an Italian actress and teacher whose story speaks softly yet powerfully about resilience and quiet courage. Choosing to live discreetly in a society still marked by prejudice, she reflects on visibility, education, and the responsibility of representation. Her words reveal a deep understanding of what it means to inhabit a body that the world insists on defining — and to reclaim it through art, compassion, and integrity.

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Being an Artist and Living Incognito

“I live very incognito. I don’t talk openly about my past because, in Italy, the perception of transgender or queer bodies is still strongly linked to sex work. If you are transgender, you are immediately associated with prostitution — as if you couldn’t possibly be anything else or play other roles.

I live my life as a cisgender woman, moving through the city almost invisibly. When I was younger, I was happy about this; now that I’m older, I no longer find it fair that someone should have to hide or perform in public — even just having a coffee with a friend. I’m always on guard, afraid that something might happen. There’s still a lot of transphobia and misogyny in Italy, and the art world is no exception.”

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Stereotypes and Media Representation

“Inviting trans people on television may help raise awareness, but too often it’s done the wrong way — turning them into spectacles rather than people. This reinforces the caricature of trans women and men as ‘freaks,’ or worse, as jokes.

I regret this deeply, because it makes people like me choose invisibility. I don’t flaunt myself. I don’t need breast surgery or bright lipstick to feel real — I’m natural and reserved. But if I had told directors or casting agents that I was transgender, I would never have been given many of the roles I played — Juliet, her nurse, a mother, an aunt, even a nun. In Italy, trans people are rarely seen as capable of playing ordinary characters — a wife, a parent, a teacher.”

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Teaching and Representation

“In my daily life, I’m a primary school teacher — something almost unthinkable for a trans woman in Italy. Nobody at school knows my past. But I believe that people like me, working quietly inside schools, can make a difference. We can help dismantle the prejudice that sees certain identities as marginal or deviant.

One day, a child insulted another by saying, ‘You’re gay!’ I told them calmly that being gay is just like having brown eyes or blue eyes — it’s a personal characteristic, not an insult. Some teachers might have ignored it, but I wanted to explain that there’s nothing wrong with being different. My dream is a world where explanations are unnecessary — where saying your name is enough, without having to specify your gender.”

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Discrimination and Invisibility

“I experienced both racism and transphobia during my transition, between the ages of 12 and 19. Afterward, I became almost invisible — I blended into society because of my feminine features. I know I’m lucky, but it’s bittersweet.

If I were to stand up and say, ‘I’m Liriophe, and I used to be a man,’ I would be discriminated against immediately. I’ve seen it happen to others — trans and gay people mocked on television, reduced to punchlines. We seem to exist for entertainment, not understanding.

Even in the arts, beauty is narrowly defined. Theatre allows a bit more diversity, but being a trans woman means facing everything cis women face — harassment, jokes, exclusion — within a male-dominated industry. As Italian author Michela Murgia said, discrimination is intersectional: gender, race, class, all pile up. I often say I’ve karmically chosen the hardest path: I’m mixed-race, a woman, trans, an artist, and a teacher. Everything I do is precarious. And yet, I feel good. I feel like myself.”

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Safety, Boundaries, and Finding One’s People

“As a trans actress who isn’t openly out, I live in a kind of concealment. On stage, as long as I’m just seen as the actress, everything is fine. But during breaks, people make jokes about gay people or women — and it hurts.

Over time, I’ve learned to choose my collaborators. You naturally create a family of like-minded people: women, queer people, others who understand. There’s a lot of unconscious misogyny — people think catcalling is a compliment, when it’s not. If you want to compliment me, come up and ask me for a coffee. Let me choose whether to accept.

I’ve worked hard to respect myself, and that has changed the environment around me. I no longer experience violence or unsafe situations. With my former psychologist, I now visit schools to speak with parents about supporting — not judging — children who feel they don’t belong to their assigned gender.”

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Family, Love, and Healing

“I was lucky — my parents always knew who I was. They protected me. They encouraged me to dance, and they were aware I was a fragile child who could face dangerous situations. Not all trans people have this privilege. Many are thrown out of their homes or beaten.

If your own parents don’t love you, how can others? In my case, love came from the world before it came from my family. Now, I have a beautiful relationship with them, but it took work — years of dialogue.

Explaining these realities isn’t easy. It’s like trying to tell a man what it’s like to live as a woman, or to step outside in fear because of what you’re wearing. It’s hard for people to imagine a life they’ve never had to live.”

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Towards Real Inclusion

“It would be enough not to make distinctions — to welcome people as they are. If someone who looks like a man introduces herself as Jasmine, you simply welcome Jasmine.

In television and media, I dream of a time when trans people are valued for their talent, not for being ‘different.’ When a trans woman can play a mother, a lawyer, a nurse — roles that reflect reality.

People tell me, ‘You don’t look trans,’ as if that were a compliment. It’s not. It means that being trans is still seen as something shameful or undesirable. Even well-meaning people reproduce this discrimination, because it’s ingrained in our patriarchal culture.

You don’t introduce someone by saying, ‘This is my straight friend.’ Yet that’s still done for gay or trans people. It’s subtle but powerful discrimination. We must unlearn it. Trans people are human beings — not a gender category.

We must create inclusive spaces where no one is defined by their past or appearance — just as former inmates should not be branded for life. Everyone deserves the chance to begin again.”

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Editorial Note

This interview was conducted and written by Ariadne for the TRANScenDANCE project, co-funded by the Erasmus+ Programme of the European Union.

Through the voice of Liriophe, actress, teacher, and trans woman, this testimony reveals the silent strength of those who live between visibility and protection.

It is a story about dignity, resilience, and the right to exist fully without labels — where the stage becomes both a shelter and a mirror of truth.

Ariadne, for the TRANScenDANCE project

© TRANScenDANCE Project – Erasmus+ 2025