The first time I saw Tranna Wintour, she was a boy dancing her ass off at Cabaret Mado, a famous Montreal drag club (not to mention my favorite place on earth after Indigo). She complimented some skanky thing I was wearing and I didn’t see her again until an image of her wearing a flamingo pink tinsel bra waving her licorice-skinny arms hysterically blared across the huge screen that made up the backdrop of the Kylie Minogue concert I was taken to against my will. On my way to the bathroom back at Mado for the Kylie after party, I saw Tranna again and we exchanged numbers. Less than a year later, I was watching her organize an unbelievably large collection of art books in her Montreal apartment, wearing a nightie reminscent of those worn by The Golden Girls’ Dorothy Zbornak, the night before we were set to see the MDNA tour.
Tranna, by nature, is funny. This, combined with a number of sexually-confusing life experiences lead her to write I am no Man, a show she performed for her closest friends little over one year ago. With the confidence that she gained from her friends’ positive reaction and support, she took part in an open mic night and has been performing regularly throughout the Montreal comedy scene ever since.
I called her up to talk about her ever-evolving identity, act, and the alternate perspective on sex she, as a trans comedienne, offers to audiences across Montreal.
FIRSTS: Tell me about your role in the Montreal comedy scene.
Tranna: Well, I am a comedienne. I prefer that term because it implies femininity, and it implies things that go beyond comedy. It implies performance art and that’s what I’m more about than getting up there and telling jokes.
Cool. What can the audience expect from your act?
My act is about making people laugh. It’s about challenging people’s ideas of gender. I love gender confusion, I thrive on the thrill of it. I like to tackle sexually taboo topics. I like to tackle pop culture. My act is basically an expression of me and my interests.
And you dress in drag when you perform, right?
Yes, I do. Although I don’t really see myself as a drag queen. I identify as trans. I love drag queens, but it’s a different kind of thing because when a drag queen gets into her costume, she’s stepping into an alter-ego that she’s created, or a character. When I get dressed up to go on stage, I don’t see it as a costume. I see it as an expression of the real me. In so many ways, the person that I am onstage is a more authentic depiction of who I am than I might even be on a regular day at home.
So what is your preferred gender pronoun?
She.
Do you carry that into your day-to-day life, outside of being a comedienne?
It’s interesting because so many people ask me about terminology. There are differences between the words ‘transgender,’ and ‘transsexual,’ and ‘cross-dresser,’ and so many other terms, or labels. For me, ultimately, none of those words matter. None of those labels are important. Gender identification is something that’s specific to each of us. We’re taught to think in two terms: male and female. To me, there’s such a spectrum that exists between the two. Even though I might live most of my life looking like a boy, wearing boy’s clothing, my spirit is female. To me it doesn’t matter if the outside reflects my spirit, because my spirit exists separately from the way that I look; it exists separately from my body. It’s my state of mind.
What challenges come with being a transwoman on the comedy scene in Montreal?
Before I did my first performance at a comedy club, I was ready for adversity. I was so ready to be on the defensive. I was expecting to be misunderstood, misjudged. I was ready for the fight. At the beginning, there was no fight, and I was so shocked at how I was embraced by audience members, who are mostly heterosexual. I was actually surprised by how welcomed I was. In general, that is still the case. Audiences – and I’m talking straight audiences – are so accepting, so welcoming. I think what I do gives them a little bit of a thrill. That being said, I’ve had my moments. I remember performing and there was this group of white bred people — as vanilla, artless, culture-less as you can get. I thought they were, I don’t know, from the Prairies-
Tranna! Don’t insult the prairies! I’m from Manitoba! [Laughs].
[Laughs]. Well this one woman, I will never forget her face. She was giving me the death stare. But I didn’t give a shit. She was wearing socks and sandals so I wasn’t going to pay her any mind.
So a death stare is the only adversity you’ve faced so far?
Well, looking back now, the hardest thing I had to deal with was when a club manager wanted me to tone down my act. Basically, not talk about sex, not be who I am. He told me this five minutes before I had to go on. I was worried that if I didn’t tone it down I would never be asked to perform at that club again. And as a creative person, you never want to be censored.
So what happened?
I did end up toning it down, and the next morning I was really upset that I did because there was nothing to tone down in the first place. But the experience really strengthened my belief in what I’m doing; it helped me to reaffirm who I am as a creative person. So ultimately, it was a necessary experience. And you can bet your ass I’m never toning it down again.
What pissed me off most about being asked to censor myself is that I talk about sex from an intellectual, witty perspective. I’m not a straight, white guy talking about my masturbatory habits. In a humorous way, I offer people a different perspective on sexuality. As soon as someone talks about sex in a way that is removed from a male point of view, that’s when people start to take issue. Even female comics talk about sex from a male perspective, because they’re trying to reach the male audience. The way I talk about sex is from a point of female empowerment, trans empowerment, and gay empowerment.
What particular bit from your act always gets a reaction?
I don’t think anyone will ever be able to figure it out, but when it comes to comedy so much of where you get the laugh comes from the chemistry of the room. There’s so many variables; the people in the room, the space, the temperature outside, the moon. But lately the bit that I do that goes over super well, no matter where I do it, is when I describe myself as a modern-day Cinderella. When I say I have to be home before midnight or else my beard starts growing back, people laugh. I think they feel at ease because I’m joking about my gender identity, so that joke usually gets them on my side.
Do you ever get hit on when the show is over?
[Laughs] Yes and no. Straight men are obsessed with being received as straight, and they take their sexuality so seriously. I feel like when it comes to your sexuality, live it! Don’t hold back. But people are caught up in labels. I’ve had moments where I know someone is feeling it and wanting it, but they’re too chicken shit to actually go after it.
How do those moments take place, like how can you tell they want it?
Oh, it’s the way that they look; it’s their nervous giggle, the way they kind of stammer and look at the ground.
What kind of reaction do you get from women in the audience?
Girls love me. Girls have always loved me. I know how to work the ladies because I guess I am one myself. My whole life I’ve been comfortable around women. I’m usually very uncomfortable around straight men because I don’t relate to them in many ways. I feel like a bit of an outsider in that sense because most of the comics performing are all straight, male comedians. You know, they’re all like, bro-ish together. Doing their bro handshakes, and they’re just in with each other.
You don’t do the bro handshake?
No. What I do now is if someone tries to do a bro handshake on me, I just put out my hand and let them kiss it. I don’t know the secret bro handshake! I always get lost in it!
Are there code handshakes between transwomen?
[Laughs]. No. We don’t do that, honey. We’re too sophisticated for that.
Oh, okay.
I think the bro handshake is just a way for guys to have physical contact with each other. The physical contact they need that they don’t get. You know, because they’re so uptight about their sexuality.
Like, physical contact from another man?
Yes! The bro handshake usually ends with an embrace, and a pat on the back. I think it’s a little way of subconsciously releasing the sexual tension that exists in heterosexual male friendships.
Very interesting theory.
[Laughs]. Well you know I’m basically always trying to prove that all men are gay.
Is that your theory, that all men are gay?
Homosexuality is lurking in all males. And probably all females, too. Don’t you think that there is – I’m not saying this in any real way I’m just kind of talking out of my ass right now – but sometimes it’s something that I think about. Maybe there is just this kinship that exists, or this connection that exists, just from having the same bits. Not for everyone in the same way. But I really don’t believe – and this I’m serious about – I don’t believe in the idea of exclusive heterosexuality and exclusive homosexuality. We can get very, very close to those two extremes but I don’t think the absolute exists.
Thanks, Tranna. <3 u.
FIRSTS 