Mobilities Vol. 4, No.

3, 367387, November 2009

The Mother, the Daughter, and the Cow: Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe
KATRIN VOGEL
Institut fr Ethnologie, Ludwig-Maximilians-Universitt, Munich

ABSTRACT Venezuelan transformistas migrate to Europe in order to occupy the lucrative niche of transgender sex work. With their earnings, they enhance the process of transforming their male bodies towards perfect femininity. Various forms of liminality are inherent both in transformistas migration and in their bodily transformation. This paper aims at an understanding of how they arrived at their present situation by following their lives through time and space. It explores motivations for migration as well as the economic and affective dimensions of relations evolving from recruitment practices that are based on sexual identity and gender. The negotiation of love for their natural mothers through economic transactions is interpreted as a change of status that became possible in the context of migration.
1745-0101 Mobilities 10.1080/17450100903195466 RMOB_A_419719.sgm Original Taylor 2009 0 3 4 alegria_kv@gmx.de KatrinVogel 00000November and & Article Francis (print)/1745-011X Francis2009 Ltd (online)

KEY WORDS: Venezuela; homosexuality; transformistas; migration; liminality; sex work

Introduction The so-called first generation of Venezuelan transformistas arrived in Europe in Italy in the late 1970s. They paved the way for following generations who, nowadays, travel to and between Spain, Italy, France, Germany and Switzerland, where they occupy the lucrative niche of transgender sex work. By tracing Venezuelan transformistas migration to Europe through time and space, this paper attempts to grasp a phenomenon characterised by mobility and ambivalences, by transience and transformation, by interstices and inconsistencies. It is about individuals entering and leaving spaces, mostly alone but as members of a transnational community of practice informally bound by their shared practice of changing gender and of engaging in sex work (and by their Venezuelan identity). In ethnographies of transnationalism, attributes that call to mind the symbolics of liminality as elaborated by Victor Turner (1964, 2000 [1969]) upon Van Genneps (1999 [1909]) Rites de Passage are used to describe migrants and transnationals
Correspondence Address: Katrin Vogel, Institut fr Ethnologie, Fakultt fr Kulturwissenschaften, LudwigMaximilians-Universitt, Oettingenstr. 67, 80538 Mnchen, Germany. Email: alegria_kv@gmx.de 1745-0101 Print/1745-011X Online/09/03036721 2009 Taylor & Francis DOI: 10.1080/17450100903195466

368 K. Vogel lives. Metaphors of the beyond (Bhabha, 1994, p. 7) or of hybridity are regularly invoked (Amit-Talai, 1998, p. 42). (Illegal) migrants are observed to come from elsewhere, from there and not here, and hence to be simultaneously inside and outside the situation at hand (Chambers, 1994, p. 6), a state explicitly labelled a kind of permanent limbo by Driessen (1998, p. 101). Likewise, the notion of liminality abounds in scholarly comments on transsexualism and transgenderism. Some authors, though, go beyond a metaphorical use of liminality and rites of passage when aiming at an interpretation of contemporary phenomena. Nicola Mai (previous paper, this issue) addresses the independent migration of minors and young people as a liminal practice through which the transition to adulthood is negotiated. In the field of anthropology of gender, the concepts have been used to understand intermediate gender categories in Polynesia (Besnier, 1994), transsexuals affiliated with a support group in the US (Bolin, 1988), and transgendered persons in Perth, Australia (Wilson, 2002). In my paper the main interpretative axis is the ritual of passage, inherent both in transformistas migration from Venezuela to Europe and in their bodily transformation from male to female. The process of gender migration (King, 2003) via clothing, make-up, surgical interventions, etc. is marked by ambivalences, just as is geographical migration. Accordingly, Venezuelan transformistas experience various forms of liminality resulting simultaneously from agency and from marginalisation. How and why they arrived at their present situation as sex workers in Europe will be explored by tracking their lives/biographies as methodological and representational strategy (Marcus, 1995). Since they describe themselves as born male homosexuals or marico (English: fag;) who change towards perfect feminine beauty, I will start with their childhood and adolescence at home in Venezuela, focusing on narratives of their lived experiences as maricos. They give insights into local concepts of masculinity, femininity and male homosexuality which are crucial for an understanding of their involvement in sex work and of the way family is ruptured but also reconstituted through transformistas migration. The decision to migrate is certainly taken against a background of marginalisation, yet at the same time it is principally the aura of anything is possible that transformistas who live in Europe radiate and stage when they visit Venezuela as tourists. Though most ways of earning ones living are firmly closed to transformistas, the possibility of making considerable amounts of money in the niche of transgender sex work is open to them. Euros play a crucial role in their migration, not just because of aspired economic benefits; I argue that the meaning of the exhibition of beauty and wealth as celebrated by many transformistas becomes comprehensible only when taking their specific situation as homosexuals in Venezuela into account. A migration project usually consists in a deal between a Venezuelan transformista who already lives and works in Europe, who is the mother (Spanish: madre), and the future migrant, the daughter (Spanish: hija). Thus, recruitment practices are linked to gender and sexual identity and they recreate the transnational community of practice. The application of kinship terms on the one hand, and the expression cow (Spanish: vaca) used by mothers when talking about their daughters on the other hand, refers to the ambiguous nature of their relationship: it is both affective and economic. At this point, I want to draw parallels with transformistas relationships with their natural mothers (Spanish: mam). It is striking that transformistas in

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 369 Europe put much emphasis on their love for their mams and, similar to the mother daughter relationship, the mamson relationship (most mams still talk about their son or marico) has an economic dimension. Once considered a shame for their families for not behaving according to their assigned gender, change of status and social inclusion can occur to some degree in the context of migration. By supporting their mams financially, transformistas contribute to the economic viability of the often matrifocal household sometimes even resulting in its social ascent. After rupture and separation, transformistas eventually adopt a new social role within their families. In Venezuela, they present themselves as successful visitors residing in Europe. Through their earnings from sex work, plastic surgery and other techniques of body transformation become affordable, as well as expensive make-up, hair extensions, designer clothes and accessories. Ambiguities in appearance disappear and most transformistas become hyperfeminine beauties. Far from home they construct a new identity feminine, beautiful, successful, European and distance helps to keep it up. By this, I do not mean to say that, after having passed a liminal phase in Europe, their return to Venezuela can be equated with a rite dagrgation. Van Gennep applied his model to traditional societies and showed how people cross boundaries of time, space and social status. In a contemporary urban and transnational setting, however, contexts and cultural categories may shift, and postmodernity has introduced the notion of fluid and hybrid identities.1 Depending on the perspective and the standpoint, transformistas give up some aspects of their betwixt-and-betweenness (Turner, 1964); nevertheless, they do not entirely leave multiple liminality. This paper is based on multi-sited fieldwork in Spain, Germany and Venezuela. My aim has been to understand transformistas mobility and the articulation of their lives across borders.2 The field was not primarily defined in terms of locality, but as a field of relations, which have significance to the people involved (Fog Olwig & Hastrup, 1997, p. 8). Transformistas frequent travelling within Europe and between Europe and Venezuela might suggest that they live isolated from each other, yet face-to-face contacts and communication technologies are intensively used for exchanging news and information about present and absent community members. As multi-sitedness refers to different localities, but also to different levels (Marcus, 1995) and research strategies (Weikppel, 2005), my methodology encompassed participant observation and deep hanging out (Clifford, 1997, p. 56), 11 biographical interviews with transformistas, semi-structured interviews with four mams and two plastic surgeons, as well as phoning the field (Norman, 2000; Sunderland, 1999). During my research, I was personally acquainted with about 40 transformistas and I knew approximately 60 from hearsay whose whereabouts in Venezuela and Europe I tried to document at weekly intervals. In my estimation, there were about 80 Venezuelan transformistas in Europe during the time of my field research. This number was verified by several key informants who had been living in Europe for more than five years. However, the number of transformistas in Venezuela (around 20) of whom I was aware represented certainly only a small fraction of the local community: during my later returns to the field, I always met recently arrived transformista migrants I had never heard of before. Participant observation was undertaken at a strategic locale (Marcus, 1995) in a Spanish city in an apartment I will refer to as Hotel Glamour, where the paths of many Venezuelan transformistas intersect. The owner, a transformista whose nom de

370 K. Vogel guerre is Frufru, sub-lets rooms and sleeping places exclusively to Venezuelan transformistas for days and months.3 More than ten years in the city and aged over 40, she is a vieja (English: old, but note the feminine grammatical form), who successfully compensates her declining income from prostitution with her unofficial enterprise. Frufru is popular and well-known for her caring personality within the community. Some transformistas stay with her just in order to take vacations from the place where they usually live and work (Hamburg, Milan, Paris or Zurich). They know that at her place, they will enjoy the company of acquainted transformistas, eat Venezuelan dishes, watch TV in Spanish language and listen to Caribbean music. For many who come to Europe for the first time, Spain (along with Italy) is the main country of entry and the Hotel Glamour their temporary point of arrival. Transformistas live in movement and Hotel Glamour though a place characterised by transience was a home for many in the sense of where one best knows oneself (Rapport & Dawson, 1998, p. 9). In summer, some spend a period of time there in order to engage in street prostitution without suffering from bad weather conditions and without heavy controls by the police as in other European cities. Others drop in for some days in order to see a specific plastic surgeon favoured by many Venezuelan transformistas in Europe. With his medico-technical help along with professionals of other disciplines and their own personal touch they enhance the process of transformation towards beautiful femininity. Maricos and Transformistas In Venezuela they call homosexual men...the name they give us all in Venezuela is transformista. Because they do not call us travesti, neither do they say transsexual. Because they use transsexualism in Europe. It is transformista! It doesnt matter if one looks feminine or masculine, no matter how one looks, it is transformista for Venezuelans. For all of us it is transformista (Frufru, 20 August 2006). This quotation contains the key words homosexual men, travesti, transsexual and to look feminine/masculine. By discussing them briefly, I want to approach the question of who and how transformistas are. First, they are not transsexuals. (Maleto-female) transsexualism is often represented by the formula a female soul trapped in a male body, coined in the 1860s by the German Karl Heinrich Ulrichs in a juridical context (Hirschauer, 1999, p. 80). Today, as a medical term it reflects a persons desire to live in the opposite sex and its corresponding gender. The rejection of ones genitals has become the central criterion for diagnosis, and sex reassignment surgery, along with hormonal therapy, the treatment. While the dominant medical position is that transsexualism is a given disorder which has been discovered (Ekins & King, 1998, p. 106), scholars mainly from outside the profession have argued that transsexualism has been constructed or invented in a Euro-American context (Billings & Urban, 1996; Hirschauer, 1999; King, 1996; Raymond, 1979). If male-to-female transsexuals in public seek to pass as biological women, they can be criticised for reifying the male/female gender dichotomy (Bolin, 1998) since they conform to their cultures criteria for gender assignment (Shapiro, 1991).

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 371 Only a few transformistas told me that at a later time they wanted to undergo sex reassignment surgery, and sometimes operated transformistas were said to be out there, but I did not meet any. Although transformistas transform their at-birth male bodies towards perfect feminine beauty, most of them explicitly want to keep their genitals. Here is an extract from a group conversation at Frufrus place: note the use of the feminine grammatical form throughout: This [sex reassignment surgery] is for those [las] who have this disease [transsexualism]. [Everybody Angelica, Alexandra, Frufru agrees.] This is only for those [las] who reject their genitals. This is not for us, this is not for us [nosotras], because we have done a lot of things, we got to know the vice (Claudia, 24 October 2006). This part of a conversation about sex reassignment surgery introduces the use of ones genitals and sexuality as significant for transformistas perception of themselves. With vice Claudia paraphrases transformistas active, i.e. penetrative role in sex encounters with men and alludes to morality and deviance versus disease. Most though not all transformistas who like the vice explained that they had to penetrate in the context of sex work in Europe (since many clients wish to be passive) and that they eventually learned [sic!] to like it. While North American and European memoirs of transsexualism consistently deny erotic feelings for males as a motivating force for sex change (Kulick, 1998a, p. 48), they are of central importance to Venezuelan transformistas. Many think that operated transformistas become insane because they lose a part of themselves and still more important the ability to have an orgasm.4 Transformistas portray themselves as born male homosexuals and, when talking to and about each other, they almost always use marico.5 As a generic term, marico stands for various forms of male homosexuality that people distinguish in Venezuela and usually it has an offensive connotation. The expression seems to be contradictory to transformistas sexy, thoroughly female appearance, but it continuously reminds us of their homosexuality a category they assign to themselves because of their male biological sex and their sexual desire for (masculine) men. The latter would be called a hombre or specified as hombrehombre (man man) and would be a normal or a real man because of his masculinity, which is in accordance with his biological sex (cf. Carrillo, 2002). A hombrehombre might desire both biological women and transformistas; he would not be considered a marico or homosexual, because of his (ideal-typical) preference for the active part in a sexual encounter with a transformista. An anecdote may exemplify the link between masculinity, hombrehombre and heterosexuality, as opposed to being a marico or a homosexual/gay. Spanish journalist Luis Maria Ansn, member of the Real Academia Espaola, asserted in an article titled Chvez y la homosexualidad (El Mundo, 7 September 2007) that the Venezuelan president was gay without having come out of the closet (Ansn, 2007). Venezuelas foreign minister Maduro classified this statement as the worst barbarity ever uttered by the Spanish franquista rightists against the president (Starmedia, 2007), and Hugo Chvez himself responded that he was sufficiently macho to pulverise any accusations along those lines (Pettineroli, 2007). These reactions are interesting for they reveal that homosexuality goes along with stigmatisation in Venezuela. But I want to draw attention to the presidents reply

372 K. Vogel mainly because it combines two classificatory systems: homosexuality and gayness refer to an object choice model of sexual identity (Carrillo, 2002, p. 62) based on anatomical sex man desires man whereas Chvezs insistence on being macho, i.e. masculine, puts less emphasis on the bodies involved. It focuses on behaviour and points to a sex/gender model of sexual identity (Carrillo, 2002, p. 38), which distinguishes between masculine/active, i.e. macho or hombrehombre, and feminine/ passive, i.e. marico. The co-existence of a performative model (corresponding to the sex/gender model) and a confessional model (corresponding to the object choice model) of male homosexualities among Albanian sex workers in Italy and Greece has been described in detail by Mai (2004). Similarly as the emic term marico points out in Venezuelan culture the relation between sexual practices and masculinities has predominantly been defined on the basis of the performative model, whereas the appropriation of the term gay suggests the emergence of the confessional model from Western influence (cf. Mai, 2004). For Venezuelan transformistas a way of negotiating between these mutually not exclusive models is to refer to themselves as homosexuals. With migration to Europe, where the confessional model is now hegemonic, Venezuelan transformistas way of understanding and experiencing their desire for men turns out to be a lucrative answer to the sex markets demand. As regards the direct question about what transformistas are, the answer is that they are homosexual men. They do not question biology, rather they refer to their male metabolism, organism or to male hormones for giving explanations about the quantities they eat, their aggressive behaviour or their marked libido. At the same time they put forward their feminine behaviour, their sexual desire for men and their feminine appearance as reasons for why they accomplish femininity, which is at least at home in Venezuela associated with passivity. This becomes evident when Claudia says that they learned to like the vice (i.e. to be active) only in Europe. Changing gender is related to sexuality. So masculinity and femininity can not only be understood as adhering to or arising from male and female bodies but, instead, as signs or processes that are invoked and enacted through specific practices (Kulick, 1998a, p. 232): Frufru: God created us like this in order to satisfy men. K: But you were not born like this! F: Yes, but God created us with the intention that we shall make ourselves like this (Frufru, 10 August 2005). Venezuelan transformistas defy what has been labelled the fallacious linkage between biological sex and gender expression (Boswell, 1998, p. 55); nevertheless I hesitate to transfer the term transgender from a postmodern cultural studies or activist framework to their context.6 In contrast to transsexual identities: what is increasingly seen as the transgender identity breaks down the gender dichotomy by mixing and matching its characteristics in any combination. It is also a more open identity in that transgenderists may be perceived as neither male nor female. Pushed further, the idea of permanent, core identities and the idea of gender itself disappear. The emphasis today, at least in some parts of

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 373 the literature, is on transience, fluidity, and performance (Ekins & King, 1998, p. 102). Transformistas uphold the binary gender-system rather than contesting it since they depart from core gender identities when embodying feminine qualities in order to seduce masculine men. Following Plummer (1996, p. xv), they would be conservative gender blenders because they do not transcend, transgress, and threaten, and because they do not live outside of gender. Nonetheless, transformistas explicitly do not state that they want to be women and they are not very much interested in how an average woman might be either. In their projects of self-making, they rather identify themselves with such hyperfeminine media celebrities as Paris Hilton, Shakira, Beyonc or Angelina Jolie. An admittedly poignant example is Venezuelan transformista Angelica Biagiotti Spencer Dior de Gasparini, who named herself after Laura Biagiotti, Princess Diana (Spencer), Christian Dior and an Italian ex-lover whose surname was Gasparini, in order to evoke glamour. In Venezuela, where beauty queens are often mentioned, after petroleum, as a top export of the country (Ochoa, 2006, p. 2), femininity is closely linked to beauty and glamour. The narrative of beauty is that it is at the same time natural and intrinsic, laborious and artificial. Like petroleum, it must be refined a process hidden from view. What is important is what it does for Venezuela in the end. Its origins are magical, its productions are mystified, its presence (once complete and ready for export) is celebrated (Ochoa, 2006, p. 51). This observation can be made for petroleum and contestants of beauty pageants alike. Transformistas return to Venezuela after bodily transformation in Europe must be read against this background. Migration enables them to conform to and even to surpass the local canon of femininity. Childhood and Adolescence An uncle forced her to her knees in front of the house and made her move around like this. She suffered a lot; she suffered a lot as a child [de nio; masculine grammatical form] (Katys mam, 9 February 2007). Both transformistas and their mams reported that they were already different as children: they preferred to play with their sisters and their dolls, they did not like to join other boys, they were always very feminineNarrative reconstructions of the past, the selection of topics as well as evaluations of decisions, actions and processes were influenced by their present situation as transformistas. Male femaling7 behaviours occur in any childs play, but these initial beginnings may take on a retrospective importance, if male femaling persists (Ekins, 1997, p. 61). The highlighting of transformistas innate femininity must be seen against this backdrop. Already at the age of three or four years, immense pressure was exerted on the boys, because they behaved like maricos. Since they did not conform to their assigned gender, male family members especially would take measures like beating them to make them tough, i.e. masculine and normal. Physical and psychological abuse continued on the street and at school. Although as mams tried to normalise each family has a marico, a mam of marico twins remembered anonymous callers insulting her and her sons on the phone. Two testimonies:

374 K. Vogel I was born on 9 July 1976 at 11 in the evening. I come from a very, very kind family. I grew up under a regime of machismo. () We are six siblings: four brothers, one sister, and I. There was a drastic change when I decided that I wanted to be a girl [chica]. I had to get away from my family (Fiura, 15 November 2006). At 16 I went away from home because I quarrelled with my pap and my mam and he hit me and everything and I tried to hit my mam, and well, I left. I left and used to live with the mam of a friend (Bianca, 7 March 2007). Most transformistas left their families as adolescents in order to escape humiliation, violence and the constant pressure to behave like a real man; in order not to disgrace their parents within the neighbourhood. If a maricos stigmatised behaviour is interpreted as contagious, his shame will concern all family members and his absence will permit them to re-establish the image of a normal family. Rupture with the customary environment coincided with dissociation from male identity. It can be interpreted as rite de sparation that guides maricos into liminality (Vogel, 2007). The beginning of the process of accomplishment of femininity (Garfinkel, 1967) is usually marked by adopting female attributes like clothing, body language, make-up, long hair and plucked eyebrows, and by adapting to the stereotypical gender behaviour of women. Transformistas give themselves female names, use the female grammatical form, and want to be treated like women. Concerning the question of why they made themselves transformistas, all interviewees constructed their biographical accounts around their attraction for men. The final decision, though, was always influenced by seeing other transformistas and by the desire to look equally beautiful. Let me propose two ways of thinking about making oneself a transformista against other potentially available models of male homosexuality. First, in a performative model of male homosexuality, a female position will be helpful in order to seduce masculine men who in turn do not stand to lose their status, i.e. to be considered maricos, when having sex with feminine/passive transformistas. Indeed, fucking queers can be read in terms of proving masculinity (Mai, 2004). Second, it can be interpreted both as a way of conforming to the stigma of femininity attached to maricos and as resistance: by actively pushing femininity to extremes, the power of stigma fades. In any case, to make oneself a transformista liberates the individual from the pressure to behave like a real man, but it also forecloses the possibility to pass as a real man. In search of adventure, transformistas who used to live in rural areas head for the capital Caracas or the nearest big city. Others, who always lived in an urban environment, go away from their barrio or move to another city, where they stay in cheap hotels or with friends. Many start la vida de calle their life in the street. Oscillating between marginalisation and agency, the decision to become a transformista usually implicates gaining ones living either as a peluquera (hairdresser) or a puta (whore). Low education most maricos drop out of school and young age limit job opportunities. In male-associated jobs, e.g. as construction workers, maricos would continue suffering from gender policing, whereas the beauty business, as a classic field of female interest, is more accessible to maricos who are associated with femininity. Moreover, once they start the process of embodying femininity, it

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 375 provides them with useful knowledge and techniques. As hairdressers, they can be more feminine because they do something feminine and they enjoy it. Some hairdressers engage occasionally in sex work; for others it is the only livelihood strategy. The association of male gender variance with sex work in Latin America has been documented in detail by Prieur (1998) for Mexico and by Kulick (1998a) for Brazil. Venezuelan transformistas normative explanations for why they became sex workers concentrate on the economic aspect. It is considered the easiest and fastest way of becoming economically independent without having to submit to fixed working hours and to superiors. In spite of existing constraints like police harassment, danger and hierarchies within the work site, sex work thus can be interpreted as a space of antistructure (Turner, (2000 [1969]) that signifies freedom, absence of structural norms and autonomy for transformistas in their late teens. After separation from the family, they join the community of transformistas or intensify their already established contacts. Apart from learning how to be more feminine from more advanced community members, beginners see that they work as prostitutes and eventually get initiated in it. Sex work is a sphere where maricos and transformistas can experience their sexuality, often described as promiscuous. It provides simultaneously a stage and a protected space for developing femininity (see Vannereau, 1986). Their sexual identity had always been a reason for marginalisation, yet as sex workers they are desired for what they are. To be considered attractive by masculine men makes transformistas feel more feminine. Commercial sex thus must be considered also as a possibility for emotional and symbolic exchange. In spite of the diversity of maricos and transformistas movements out of the neighbourhood, out of the town, to another big city, or between different sites there is a pattern of rupture with the family that goes along with joining the transformistas community of practice. Physical movement of the body, change in identity and the freedom to experience sexuality seem to be accomplished in one act of relocation. But if queer migration is conceptualised as embodied search for sexual identity, the journey continues, since self-discovery and personal identity-formation is ongoing and fluid, never complete and fixed (Gorman-Murray, 2007, p. 106). As an example, I want to recall transformistas who now take over the active part in sexual encounters: those who, in Claudias words, learn to like the vice. I Can Do It As Well! Motivations Motivations for migration to Europe are similar to those which made them separate from their families. They report that they were tired of being discriminated against as men stigmatised with femininity and homosexuality in Venezuela. In narratives of transformistas who used to sell sex in the street, a recurrent motive recalled groups of young men who would chase and attack them for fun on weekend nights. Sex workers from Avenida Libertador in Caracas complained about regularly suffering from police harassment including being beaten, violated and put in jail (cf. Ochoa, 2006). Sex work as a space associated with independence and freedom turned out to be also a place of social and structural violence. Apart from violence and exclusion due to their sexual identity, the countrys difficult economic situation and its everyday violence (Ferrndiz, 2004) were further motives for transformistas to leave Venezuela. Obviously, migrants who leave home and end up as sex workers can be portrayed as victims, but

376 K. Vogel as Agustn (2004, p. 88) observes: Many women, homosexuals and transsexuals are fleeing from small-town prejudices, dead-end jobs, dangerous streets, overbearing fathers and violent boyfriends. Home can also be a boring or suffocating place But not only the lack of prospects in the home country were motives to migrate: without exception, all transformistas stressed that they had always dreamt of getting to know Europe, a desire that, for some, had intensified subsequent to a decisive biographical moment like a break-up with a boyfriend. When transformistas most of them in their early twenties emigrate, they actively pursue this dream and it is this agency which makes them change their situation.8 As their socio-economic background is usually weak, they are aware that they will have to work in Europe in order to make their dream come true. For transformistas who already used to sell sex in Venezuela, the way of earning money does not change with migration, yet their income significantly does. Thus, travelling makes sense. Those who used to work as hairdressers in Venezuela generally say that they did not like sex work in the beginning, but that they got used to it. All of them knew exactly how they would earn their living in Europe, and they were willing to do so. Transformistas imagine how much their life will change in Europe, because they see community members who return to Venezuela as tourists. The frequently used expression Yo tambin puedo! (I can do it as well!) sums up the feelings, when comparing ones own situation with that of the migrants, who prepare for their visits home meticulously. With perfect feminine beauty, luxurious clothing and accessories (preferably by Dolce & Gabbana, Luis Vuitton, Dior), they resemble media celebrities and provide evidence of the possibilities that transformistas have in Europe.9 Their self-assured manners address not only those maricos who have not travelled yet, but also family, neighbours, people on the streets those who would discriminate against them for being maricos before migration. Tourist transformistas demonstrate with self-confidence, if not arrogance, that they achieved something the majority of nonmaricos or non-transformistas could never emulate. Their image nurtures the idea of an opposition between Venezuela and Europe as a space of imagined freedom, wealth, beauty and tolerance: Here I am. I was able to go to Europe. () With respect to economy our life changes. Our life also changes with respect to society, because they accept us a bit better, because we come from Europe. Our bodies are made, we have some money, and this is why people accept us a bit better (). I also walk through the streets, because I also want people to see me. They shall see that I managed it! And I visit luxurious restaurants, because I want to be there, too. Even more: before I travelled to Europe, there was always some kind of fear. The fear of being rejected. There is this fear to mingle with the crowd. Because you are frightened, that they will reject you. Because you are the way you are. Because you dont have anything, because you dont wear good clothes. Because the way you talk is bad and vulgar. In Europe, you learn to talk and you get a bit of an education. And that changes your life. For us, life changes very, very, very, very, very much (Katy, 26 February 2007). Migration to Europe enables transformistas to invert their situation in Venezuela. I can do it as well! points to social ascent as an incentive for mobility. Like Katy,

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 377 many feel that they moved from the bottom to the top, from being marginalised because of homosexuality and femininity to being admired because they have become rich and beautiful and because they can afford status symbols that in Venezuela are reserved for the upper class.10 On the black market, their Euros achieve a high rate of exchange. They travelled around Europe and many learned at least the basics of one or two foreign languages. Some even went through legalisation usually by paying for marriage or false work contracts. This adjustment of status puts an end to one liminal aspect of their stay. Finally, transformistas consider that they have an advantage over normal compatriots: first, by occupying the lucrative niche of transgender prostitution in Spain, Italy, Germany or Switzerland, they can make a small fortune. Second, they can fall back on their community for organising migration. Recruitment Practices based on Gender and Sexual Identity The body of literature on migration and sex work mainly follows two trends. On the one hand, women are considered victims of trafficking. Feminist and activist representatives of this thesis act on the assumption that prostitution is exploitation and that nobody would exercise it voluntarily. On the other hand, the focus is on agency and sex work becomes a reasonable option for migrants to earn money and to get ahead. Both tendencies usually neglect transsexual and transgender migrants, although in some places it is estimated that as many as a third of foreigners selling sex are trans- (Agustn, 2006, p. 30). Their female appearance might be the decisive factor for considering them as women; other writers place them into the group of men because of their male sex (Laurindo da Silva, 1999); but in reality trans- in Europe rarely mix with either of these groups. Venezuelan transformistas enter Europe legally as tourists, and simply stay on. Participation in migration therefore depends mainly on getting the starting capital. This issue has created the market for the migration business within the transnational community of practice. Migration is usually enabled by a member who already lives and works in Europe thus recruitment is linked to sexual identity and gender: One day I got to know a friend. I always wanted to come here, to Europe, with Angelica [the transformista friend], but she always would say No. I got to know Frufru, she talked to me, she gave me the chance to come to Spain, and I went with her. And I started to travel all around the European continent (Fiura, 15 November 2006). Fiura got the chance to travel to Europe when Frufru came to Venezuela, among other things in order to find a marico whom she could bring to Europe. In transformistas language, Frufru is the mother and Fiura the daughter. The deal el negocio which makes them mother and daughter consists of multiple rights and duties on both sides and usually has a value of 5,000. The mother takes the risk of bearing the costs of her daughters migration. She finances the daughters flight and if she cannot accompany her on the trip and through passport controls she will find someone else to do so. Through the grapevine, she knows the most convenient airports for entry in terms of the loosest controls. As a European who is established and skilled, she will provide the new

378 K. Vogel transformista with a place to live. During the first months, Fiura used to live at Frufrus. As a Venezuelan in Spain, knowing hardly anybody, without a residence permit and labour contract, this was the best choice for her, in spite of the relatively expensive rent. The mother on the other hand supports her daughter in coping with the difficulties she faces in a foreign country. As a central part of their deal, she will find her a place as a sex worker and will teach her the local rules a prerequisite for enabling the daughter to reimburse the mother for her expenses. If she refuses to do so, the mother unless she is illegal herself can put pressure on her by hinting or threatening that she will report the daughters illegal stay to the police. The mother also runs the risk that the daughter will become independent before paying off her debts. The price of the deal is grounded mainly in this risk. To transformistas understanding, the mother lends the money for the trip to Europe. If the flight ticket costs about 1,000, if the daughter receives a further 1,000 to prove solvency at entry, and if other expenses amount to 500, the mother will have to lend 2,500 to the daughter. But the latter has to return 5,000, a sum that corresponds to the loan at 100% interest. Thus, the daughter bears the risk the mother runs, which is considered a fair deal by both parts. She understands that the mothers services cost money money that she will be able to return quickly. A Venezuelan transformista who wants to migrate could hardly ever save the necessary money on her own and no bank would grant her credit. She cannot fall back on her family for sponsoring either, firstly, because they are usually poor, secondly, because of the difficult if not temporarily non-existent relationship. Only a member of the transformista community residing in Europe can give her the starting capital and induct her into work. Hence, the daughter depends on the mother, and the mother makes a profit out of her situation. This aspect becomes evident when a mother, behind her daughters back, ironically calls her a cow that she financially milks an expression that refers to the fee the mother charges for her services. Once in Europe, the mother might additionally demand little presents amounting to several hundreds of Euros from her cow for doing her favours, which are fundamental to get on in Europe. Still, the application of kinship terms to an originally economic relationship accentuates its affective dimension. In fact, the mother feels responsible for her daughter and is by her side. The daughters gratitude to her mother for the support she provides exceeds notions of dependency or exploitation. Because of the constraints the future migrant faces, she considers herself lucky to have found somebody to help her with the migration project: Frufru is a mother for me, for me she is a mother, a mother, a mother. She is a very special person, a great person. A very intelligent and human person. I like her enormously. She is a friend who helped me very much. She is part of my life. I like her very, very, very, very, very much. This is just what I was thinking about the other day: who is the one I like best in Europe? Frufru. She always would help me. She always treated me well. Not everybody will do this for you. Either they charge a fortune or they rob you. When I gave Frufru money to keep it for me, she always would return it completely. You just can trust her (Fiura, 15 November 2006).

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 379 The way mother and daughter perceive their relationship can change through time. As soon as the daughter has learned to move around on her own, she will free herself in a more or less harmonious way from her mother and possibly become a mother herself.11 Transformistas usually do not (as their sexual partners are male) and can not (due to hormonal treatments) procreate biological descendants. But from the perspective of the community of practice, social reproduction does exist: a transformista needs a mother in order to be born in Europe.

Putear and Hacerse Liminality in Europe With arrival in Europe, gender migration goes into its next phase. Arriving transformistas find themselves surrounded by community members whose perfect feminine beauty contrasts with their own bodily ambiguities. Against the background of their narratives about success in prostitution depending on feminine beauty and the size of the penis, they accelerate the process of transformation: Travesti 1a vez en xxx, irresistible, guap., femen., g. senos, dot. real 24x6, activa, (). Tel: xxx (La Vanguardia, 13 September 2005). This advertisement, in the section Relax of a Spanish newspaper, features decisive characteristics for attracting clients: She describes herself as a travesti,12 new in town, irresistibly beautiful, feminine with big breasts, well equipped with a penis that measures 24x6 cm. She is explicitly willing to accept not only the passive, but also the active role in sexual encounters and she will charge more for the latter. While the size of the penis is considered a question of nature, transformistas can work on their beauty and femininity and are expected to do so by other community members. Since they perceive big breasts as the symbol of femininity and of outstanding importance in order to attract men, their first earnings in Europe are usually invested in breast-implant surgery. Most Venezuelan transformistas who arrived at Hotel Glamour had only small breasts, which had developed with the ingestion of female hormones; some had industrial silicon injected in order to form breasts and a female body, while Frufru about 20 years ago had baby oil injected. Techniques of bodily transformation change through time and space: breast implants, electrolysis and laser treatment to eliminate facial hair, liposuction, and nose surgery are standard procedures, plus, occasionally, the reduction of the Adams apple and the removal of floating ribs in order to form a well-defined waist, become affordable only with migration to Europe. There, sex work and the project of self-making or making oneself (in Spanish hacerse) are mutually dependent: transformistas invest their earnings from sex work in the enhancement of feminine beauty in order to be more successful in sex work. A tension between nature and artifice underlies the achievement of feminine beauty. It is remember the petroleum metaphor natural and intrinsic as well as laborious and artificial. Consequently, the art of making oneself consists in enhancing and refining femininity in body and behaviour (it has always been there!) and in eradicating bodily marks of masculinity:

380 K. Vogel I havent made myself very much. Because you already had the base; you already had a nice body in Venezuela. Katy: I only had my nose done. Claudia [laconically]: How many noses? [meaning: How many operations?] Katy: Three. [Both laugh] (Katy and Claudia, 19 August 2006). Anticipating admiration for their natural beauty, many transformistas try to create an image of not having made themselves a lot. But they will also harshly criticise a transformista who maintains ambiguities instead of enhancing the process of making herself perfectly feminine, whereas they highly value the elaborate transformation of a former marico feo (ugly fag) into a beautiful transformista. Most transformistas do not lose much time worrying about secondary effects and adverse reactions. What counts is the result in the present. Another narrative about success in sex work revolves around duration in time. Ones own declining success in spite of having achieved feminine beauty and the greater success of recently arrived transformistas in spite of not having achieved feminine beauty yet are explained by the clients dynamic of getting bored with always seeing the same faces. Since they already have been with the old ones, they prefer to try new ones. Transformistas adopt two different strategies for compensating the decreasing demand, which might alternate or be combined. On the one hand, they continuously refine their feminine beauty, thus the process of hacerse becomes a state of being with no end in sight. On the other hand, they engage in peripatetic migration. Normative explanations tend to externalise the reasons and focus on the characteristics of the destinations. In Germany, prostitution takes place in call-in flats and there is money (cf. Oso Casas, 2010); life is impossible because of the police in France; in Spain, street prostitution is badly paid but relaxed; and so on round Europe. But ongoing movement and displacement is also a way of evading durational time. It is about being new and the pleasure of feeling attractive and free. Behind both strategies an embodied quest for sexual and gender identity might hide. Hacerse and putear (to whore) are about living in the present and about not arriving; they are liminal practices, since place and durational time give structure to individuals lives. Liminality, however, belongs to the here and now. Transformistas commitment to immediate consumption13 in the sense of spending their earnings on making themselves through operations, cosmetics, expensive designer clothes and status symbols (to such an extent that they often complain about not having money or even of having debts with community members), is in continuous tension with their objective to save and to invest in a different future. In their short-term activities, they find a source of joy and satisfaction, and in privileged moments they transform this short term into a transcendent escape from time itself. This quasi-ritual status outside durational time is the present (Day et al., 1999, p. 2). Short term and the present are sited in the here Europe, whereas longer-term productivity is projected there Venezuela. In this spatial and temporal opposition, Europe is associated with work, whereas Venezuela stands for home, vacation, buying an apartment and investment of capital Katy: Claudia:

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 381 in a small business. Day (1999) shows a similar division between work and home, public and private, among London prostitutes. The majority of these women present themselves as if prostitution was only a trajectory in their lives. They will join the mainstream society at some future point and their home will be a haven from the world of work (Day et al., 1999, p. 16). Unlike transformistas, these women often associated their future and home with children. La Mam Many Venezuelan transformistas instead dream about living with their mams at home in Venezuela in the future. With respect to their continuous struggles to attract men, this is particularly striking. Although some project themselves to the modern fairy-tale of Pretty Woman, for many a future based in a trusted partnership becomes impossible to realise (cf. Day, 1999, p. 147). Katys mam likewise aspired that at some point in the future her marico would take care of her and live by her side. Her other children had married and had set up separate families. She had no husband, and she was living in an apartment that Katy had bought with European earnings. Most transformistas share the acquisition of property as an imagery of long-term productivity. Those who do not manage to buy mam an apartment might even be looked upon with disapproval within the transformista community. The economic aspects are obvious and explicit: capital investment shall safeguard transformistas own future and they aim at an improvement of their mams standard of living. Moving to a better neighbourhood is also a way of leaving behind a place that used to stigmatise the family for its marico and of inverting their marginalised status. For transformistas, migration can likewise be a way of taking over a new social role within their families. Their money transfers from Europe can guarantee the viability of the mams household in Venezuela. While various mams know about the origins of the money, many transformistas prefer to sustain the image of owning a successful hair salon in Paris, etc. Distance helps to keep up the division between public/work/Europe and private/home/Venezuela, but these transformistas get into difficulties when their mams call them pleading for cash. Sometimes it is impossible to comply with the wish due to fluctuations in the money supply in the context of sex work; or because they have just spent everything on short-term activities. Transformistas financial support should not be read as a way of buying the love they had lost because of being a marico. It is not a compensation for once having brought stigma and shame on the family. Economic transactions are undeniably though not necessarily helpful for regaining acceptance. Transformistas are well aware of this, though some make an effort to ignore it. Others try to manipulate playfully those family members whom they perceive as opportunistic, while others complain about exploitation. To buy presents and save Euros are common arrangements before travelling to Venezuela. Many refine their appearance with Botox, hair extensions or a nose job. They desire to present themselves as feminine and beautiful, in fashionable attire, and most of them would rather delay a visit than risk not coming up to the image of the successful European. But it is not a disguise. They do not pretend to be what they are not. During their visits, the European identity is not just a means of gaining

382 K. Vogel admiration or acceptance. Transformistas absolutely feel that migration to Europe has changed their status in Venezuela: If you accept him you have to talk in the feminine form about him. I dont mind what people say. I love my marico (Claudias mam, 23 February 2007). Only for the mam the transformista is still mainly her son whom she loves. From the transformistas perspective, economic transactions are a demonstration of love and respect for their mams. But, there is always a but: for some transformistas, rupture and separation with the family are irreversible and their mams refuse each attempt at re-connection. Conclusion We are searching for something, we are searching for something, for something, for something (Daniela, 7 November 2006). For transformistas, migration is a way of changing their status at home in Venezuela. Rupture with their families, migration and bodily transformation guide them into various forms of liminality: physical ambiguities mark the process of hacerse and, ironically, the achievement of perfect femininity results in an insurmountable hiatus between their feminine appearance and their male official identity. As illegals they are invisible to state bureaucracies, at least until they get the possibility to adjust their status. Transformistas engage in sex work, which in turn tends to be associated by outsiders with symbols of liminality and anti-structure: darkness and night, invisibility in daytime, impurity, and lack of law and order. Sex is widely supposed to form part of long-term, stable (love) relationships whereas sex work stands for the opposite. The very linking of sex with money is usually perceived as amoral. Yet for transformistas, in spite of its unquestionably negative implications, sex work means economic autonomy (independent of their legal status in Europe), freedom to experience sexuality, and non-conformity with sex/gender norms. It is a stage and a protected space for developing femininity and a possibility for emotional and symbolic exchange since most transformistas feel more feminine when considered attractive by masculine men. Due to their strategies of facing decreasing incomes in the sex sector by continuous elaboration of feminine beauty and peripatetic migration many Venezuelan transformistas never arrive. Their life trajectories resemble a search for identity, a neither here nor there, and an attempt to transcend durational time. Mobility between work sites in Europe disrupts place and time as texturing factors and makes transformistas live in the here and now. Transformistas for their part see mobility as a change of status in terms of social ascent. Before migration to Europe, they could not afford to have their own car or to go by taxi, just like many Venezuelan people of similar economic background. They were furthermore stigmatised and marginalised due to their sexual identity and gender. Now they are able to travel all over Europe as well as back and forth between

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 383 Europe and Venezuela. They achieved something the majority of Venezuelan nonmaricos or non-tranformistas could never emulate, and they enjoy looking down on those who used to despise them. Thanks to migration to Europe and their earning power in the sex sector, tranformistas can push the costly transformation of their bodies towards hyperfeminine beauty. Having left behind any ambiguities in appearance, and now resembling international media celebrities, they present themselves as very self-confident during their visits to Venezuela. In transformistas eyes, feminine beauty and Europeanness, as positively connoted characteristics, have become powerful aspects of their identity that not only replace the former marico image, but also allow them to feel economically and socially superior to a wide range of people in Venezuela. The economic contribution to the viability of their mams household is a more tangible example of how maricos adopt a new social role in the context of migration. Their change of status from being marginalised because of their homosexuality and ambiguous masculinity to being admirable is never final, though: it draws on Europe and it would hardly be sustainable if transformistas did not return there. In Europe, however, it is their embodiment of a Venezuelan concept of homosexuality that turns out to be desirable and hence, lucrative. Notes
1. 2. For a discussion of the application of the tripartite Rites de Passage model in the context of transsexualism and in an urban setting, see Bolin (1988). I started my PhD research within the Venezuelan transformista community in a Spanish city in spring 2005, with its most intensive period in 2006 and 2007. Fieldwork also included several stays with Venezuelan transformistas in various call-in apartments in Germany, and living with three different transformista families in Venezuela for a total of six weeks. Hotel Glamour and later, as a result of charges by the magazine Glamour, Hotel Glam was the title of a popular reality show that was broadcast by the Spanish TV channel Telecinco in 2003. Akin to Big Brother, 15 Spanish B-celebrities were living together under the continuous gaze of television cameras in a luxury hotel. The audience voted on evictions from the hotel and a cash prize awaited the winner. Venezuelan transformista Daniela transferred the name of the TV series to Frufrus apartment and thenceforward its inhabitants would sometimes call it jokingly Hotel Glamour. Venezuelan transformistas are very creative and humorous at finding nicknames for each other, but when discussing the use of pseudonyms with them, except for Frufru, all informants cited in this paper insisted on being introduced with their real female names. They are still anonymous in the sense of not figuring in any official documents. For those transformistas, however, who use more than one name, I chose the less common one for this paper. In Europe, Venezuelan transformistas sometimes call themselves transsexuales, but mainly in formal situations. They seem to perceive the term to be politically correct since some NGOs apply it. I call transformistas maricos when referring to the time before their bodily transformation. I am aware of its negative connotations, but understand marico as an emic expression. In Latin America, cross-dressing and other practices associated with transgenderism occur during ritualistic events as well as on a quotidian base. The question as to whether there is a distinctly Latin American pattern of transgenderism can hardly be answered perhaps it is best avoided, as it represents a complex range of phenomena (Kulick, 1998b). Shared contexts and material conditions do produce repeating forms of sexual culture. But those forms themselves vary: from country to country, from class to class, from block to block (Lancaster, 1998, p. 262). Ochoa (2006, p. 10) points out the risk of homogenising and colonising the experiences of people at other times and places by the application of transgenderism as an identity category. For a critique on simplistic conceptualisations of Latin American homosexuality in terms of a machista culture, an ever-present family and a hierarchical binary of active/passive, see Bustos-Aguilar (1995).

3.

4. 5. 6.

384 K. Vogel
7. 8. 9. For Ekins (1997, p. 61) male femalers are males who in various ways transgress the binary divide between the sexes. I explicitly do not insinuate that maricos and transformistas who do not migrate lack agency, but that agency must be acknowledged in their migration projects. In this respect, transformistas holidays in Venezuela are similar to la dscente of Congolese Sapeurs who return from Paris to Brazzaville in order to demonstrate how many clothes of internationally recognised fashion houses they had accumulated. After these demonstrations of identity, their struggles through life in Paris would begin again (Gandoulou, 1989). Ali Ahmad describes similar costly performances of success on the part of returning Pakistani migrants in his contribution to this special issue. Deeper insights into transformistas social mobility can be gained when taking questions of race and colour into account. In his book on race, class and national image in Venezuela, Winthrop R. Wright (1990) points out that Venezuelans do not accept exact definitions of race. With regard to Venezuelan transformistas I share Wrights (1990, p. 3) observation that colour rather than race appearance rather than origin influences Venezuelans perceptions of individuals. In Venezuela, where racial equality is the official doctrine, race represents more a state of mind, as well as an economic condition, than a physical fact. The connection between racial and economic status is crucial since Venezuelans usually do not attribute anti-black feelings to racial attitudes, but to the fact that blacks tend to live in poverty while whites tend to do better economically. Whiter Venezuelans claim that they discriminate against individuals for economic reasons alone. Consequently, when blacks escape poverty, they cease to be socially black. Since respect for whites is not so much based on racial sentiments but on an admiration for people who are successful, the adage money whitens has considerable significance. In the materialistic and multiracial society of twentieth-century Venezuela, individuals jobs, clothes, education, language, social position and accumulation of wealth determined their opportunities for social mobility and combined to make an individual whiter in the social context. Wright (1990, p. 6) concludes: In such a setting the term blanquear (to whiten or bleach) has tremendous social significance. Following Bonnett (2002), modernity is associated with a European, and hence white identity. This is why to be modern, to be forward-looking, demands a break with a non-European past and an immersion in the new ways and attitudes of European civilisation. Against this background, Venezuelan transformistas social ascent, individually perceived in the context of migration to Europe, can be read in terms of whitening an economic and hence racial transformation recognised and acknowledged by the Venezuelan public. As sex workers in Europe though, some Venezuelan transformistas tend to present themselves as exotic, Latin beauties. Katy, for example, emphasises her whiteness by avoiding getting tanned when in Venezuela, while she takes extended sun-bathing sessions just before returning to Europe in order to arrive as dark-skinned as possible. The self-presentation through her racialised body changes according to place and in each case tends to highlight what can be perceived as the other beyond sexual identity and gender. Following this practice, transformistas themselves import their competitors in the area of sex work. Therefore, earning money gets more and more difficult. These days, they say, there is an inflation. In order to get along, the old ones bring more daughters: I have to live from something! (Frufru, 14 February 2008). In Spain, male-to-female transgendered persons are usually referred to as travesti. Venezuelan transformistas in Spain often adopt this common parlance. Bonnett (2002) links consumerism in Latin America to white identity and understands whiteness as a part of todays symbolic economy: through much of Latin America, neoliberalism has emerged as the dominant economic paradigm over the past 20 years. According to Bonnett (2002, p. 85), whiteness has come to be associated [] not simply with the ideals and norms of the old elite but with a more contemporary phenomenon, namely consumerism. Whiteness is connoted as a lifestyle, symbolically tied to the pleasures of a consumption-led identity (pleasures such a freedom and choice). The figure of the white consumer is not an entirely novel one in Latin America. Indeed, the white shopper has been a normative model in the construction of elite female roles in metropolitan cultures of modernity in the region since the late nineteenth century. However, as the ideology and practices of consumerism have become more globalized and socially extensive, this aspect of white identity has become available to a much wider range of people. In this sense, Venezuelan transformistas passion for consumption can be interpreted as a way of constructing and embodying

10.

11.

12. 13.

Venezuelan Transformistas Migration to Europe 385

whiteness and femininity, irrespective of president Hugo Chvez current Bolivarian revolution policy, which aims at beating back neoliberalism in Venezuela.

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