Title & author
Horse Barbie: A Memoir by Geena Rocero
Synopsis
Geena Rocero knows intimately the importance of visibility, as she details in her memoir Horse Barbie, but knows the other side just as well: tokenization and its erasure of identity. Horse Barbie is Rocero’s story: one of trans joy, exhaustion, love, empowerment, and more. And at its core, Horse Barbie demonstrates the need for story—and language—beyond the purpose of visibility; rather, as a call to action.
Who should read this book
Fans of The Man Who Could Move Clouds and Minor Feelings
What we’re thinking about
Language and its power, both as oppressor and revolution
Trigger warning(s)
Racism, colorism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, physical violence (off screen), abortion (off screen)
“Hopefully, we now know that visibility is part of claiming justice in society, but it’s not the only part,” Geena Rocero notes in an interview with Vogue. “That notion that you just have to be visible and come out and things will be fine doesn’t always apply to trans people.” Rocero, a model, producer, speaker, and activist, knows intimately the importance of visibility, as she details in her new memoir Horse Barbie (The Dial Press, 2023), but knows the other side just as well: tokenization and its erasure of identity. Horse Barbie is Rocero’s story: one of trans joy, exhaustion, love, empowerment, and more. And at its core, Horse Barbie demonstrates the need for story—and language—beyond the purpose of visibility; rather, as a call to action.
Born and raised in the Philippines, Rocero stumbled into the country’s pageant world at age fifteen, immediately winning title after title in the revered industry. “In the Philippines, transgender pageants are a national sport,” Rocero writes (Rocero, 22). “Before colonization, we honored gender-fluid identities. Then the Spanish instituted dozens of festivals for Catholic saints. Beauty pageant culture was imported via American colonization in the early 1900s. Put all those influences together, and you’ve got our vibrant trans beauty pageants” (22). Years after her mother moves to California, Rocero follows her. In San Francisco, and later New York, her modeling career also takes off, but neither in the U.S. nor Philippines does Rocero feel visible. Though she had been “out and proud” in the Philippines, the country does not have gender identification policies (xii). And though the U.S.does, she sees that “in 2005 a transgender Filipina immigrant was the last person the industry would want to put front and center” (xv).
But it’s language and storytelling that begin to set Rocero free. Learning more about Tagalog’s gender-neutral pronoun, she realizes “that growing up with gender-neutral siya was my ancestors’ way of telling me that there was life beyond the binary” (241). “Didn’t I owe it to…all my ancestors to bring my full self into the future they had envisioned?” she asks (241). And so she does, sharing her truth in a TED Talk that has since received over five million views: “I was determined to think of it as ‘sharing’ because, until then, my moments of disclosure had come from some place of shame” (224). “I didn’t see the word trans as a qualifier or disclaimer anymore; I saw transness as power” (263).
In the last line of her memoir, Rocero writes: “I am chapters that are still unwritten, and so are you” (298). The line encapsulates the power of language, of storytelling; that despite Rocero having just concluded her almost 300-page memoir, her life is more than what we readers see on the page, in the media. That her story will go on, and so will ours. Our histories are constant. “No matter how scared you might feel, you have one of the most powerful things a person can wield: a story” (298).
In not only our personal lives, but the lives being impacted by cruel, baseless, and oppressive bans against gender affirming care, civil rights, and safety, storytelling holds a power. “I tell them that visibility is not the one and only answer, that we need equity and justice, too, and that the only way to survive while we push for change is to lean on one another” (297). By using our voices to champion visibility, call for voting, demand greater action, we can do as Rocero has and champion for a better present and future. “That’s the thing about trans joy: It can never be fully extinguished. People can try to narrow the possibilities for our lives, even end them, but our spirits will always expand to fill whatever space we were given. We will find the power in us” (293).
“I am chapters that are still unwritten, and so are you.”
Join in
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Rocero reflects on many elements important in her life: religion, family, body love, sexuality, and more. Which conversations did you resonate with the most? Why?
How has Rocero’s passion for storytelling inspired you to use stories to further call for equity?
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