It was amateur. And thank God for that.
That becomes sacred ground. It is the only place where you can take off the armor. You can stop modulating your voice. You can admit you’re scared. You can dance badly to Rosalía without judgment. En Casa De Mi Amiga Trans isn’t just a location—it’s a permission slip to be soft.
There are certain memories that feel like a warm room you can step back into whenever life gets cold. For me, one of those memories is pinned to a specific, grainy screenshot from the summer of 2021: En Casa De Mi Amiga Trans .
When I think of En Casa De Mi Amiga Trans , I think of the details the pros would have edited out: the hum of a refrigerator in the background, a half-empty bottle of Fanta on the nightstand, the way the curtain didn’t quite cover the window. En Casa De Mi Amiga Trans -Spanish Amateur 2021...
Professional media often tells trans stories through a lens of tragedy or transition timelines. But amateur media—the stuff we make for each other—tells the truth: that being a trans woman in 2021 often meant laughing until you cried in a friend’s messy bedroom. It meant teaching each other makeup tricks using a phone camera and a $2 eyeshadow palette.
That’s why the amateur, homemade nature of content from this era hits differently. It wasn't about lighting rigs or scripts. It was about proving we were still alive.
But in her house? The friend’s house?
By 2021, we were all exhausted. The initial panic of 2020 had given way to a strange, suffocating numbness. For the LGBTQ+ community, specifically for trans women, isolation wasn’t just boring—it was dangerous. Community spaces were closed. Chosen families were separated by Zoom lag and government restrictions.
But this post isn’t just about a video. It’s about what that phrase means to me today: In my friend’s house.
But the lesson of En Casa De Mi Amiga Trans remains: It is built in bad lighting and borrowed clothes. It is built in the houses of friends who see you completely. It was amateur
The title specifies casa (house). That word is important. For many trans people, especially in conservative Spanish-speaking cultures, the family home is often the site of rejection. The phrase “Mi casa es tu casa” (My house is your house) can feel like a fantasy.
Thank you to the women of 2021 who opened their doors, turned on a camera, and said, "You are safe here." Have a memory of a safe space from that era? Share it in the comments below. ¿Y tú? ¿Dónde encontraste tu casa?
I revisited this memory recently because a younger trans woman asked me, "What was it like back then?" I didn’t have a political answer. I told her about the 2021 video. It is the only place where you can take off the armor