The Dancing Black Dress - A Queer Awakening

I remember that I dearly, dearly wanted to be that Bad Girl that I saw on the screen, but more than that - deeper than that - I acknowledged for myself that I desperately wanted to be a girl.

Continuing my recent thread of wicked women as my role models...

The other day I had a lovely conversation with a close friend about queer awakenings. I had recently introduced a fellow writer here on Substack to the 1985 movie Legend, so that movie happened to be on my mind, and the more I turned the matter around in my head, the more I realized just how much of an influence that 1980s fantasy movie played in realizing a difficult but important truth about myself. And I would like to share some of those reflections with you today.

First, a few general observations about queer awakenings might be in order. As someone who is herself trans, lesbian, and queer, I have a personal narrative which traces a certain broad psychological arc, but I am also deeply cognizant of the fact that my personal narrative can and should be generalized only as far as my story might resonate for another individual queer person, and not one single step further. That is, my story is the story of one queer person, and not all queer people.

Some LGBTQ individuals come to an understanding of who they are, of whom and how they love, very early in life. They assert that queer identity, often in the face of intense pushback from family and society, and there's a clear through line between what they present in their youth and the adult they become.

That was not my path to an interior understanding of my queerness. I didn't fully come to an understanding of my identity, my orientation, my fundamental queerness, until quite a bit in my life when I was pushing my early forties. As a child, I think many of my peers sensed there was something different about me. Children would frequently reach a socially terminal diagnosis of cooties just a little too quickly, and fast forwarding into young adulthood, there were always whispers that I must be gay. And to be fair, there were little hints that I might be different from the boys around me.

But today I am less interested in the social cues which I might have subconsciously given others growing up, and more focused on those moments where I came face to face with my transness, with my womanhood, with my queerness. Today I am considering those moments which sparked a certain nascent self-contemplation, often to the consternation of those protective elements of my psyche which were desperately trying to hide who I really was from everyone, including and especially myself. And the more I ponder my personal history, the more I discover memories which - with the blessed benefit of hindsight - kindled and nourished the sacred spark of my womanhood through some exceedingly dark and difficult times.

Some of those memories even come pretty early in my life.

Enter Legend, the visually gorgeous 1985 fantasy film directed by Ridley Scott. The central plot of the movie revolves around the heroic efforts by the innocent, forest dwelling Jack (Tom Cruise) and the equally innocent but impulsive Princess Lili (Mia Sara) to save the last unicorns from the predations of Darkness (Tim Curry), a primordial demon hellbent on plunging the world into endless night.

As something of a stretch goal, the ambitious Darkness attempts to corrupt Lili, with the intention of making the princess his bride. Shortly after being captured, Lili awakes in an opulent chamber with black velvet furnishings and tapestries, along with some eye-catching, sparkling jewelry, all illuminated by the flickering light from a nearby fireplace. Oh, and the piece de resistance? An absolutely to die for black dress which dances by itself.

The cinematic effect itself is simple in execution, with actor (and dancer) Liz Gilbert wearing a shimmering black bodysuit and hood. Between the high, arching collar of the dress and the voluptuous folds of the ball gown itself, the person making the dress flow and dance almost disappears. But with an eerie, off-screen voice whispering, "Make her one of us!" the dress begins to draw Lili into an almost hypnotic dance, culminating in a twirling flourish where Lili and the dress merge and become one!

And that moment! Between the arching collar, the plunging neckline, and the flowing, decadent folds of the dress - along with black ringlets now pulled tight around the crown of her head, along with makeup which now screams cruel and severe - I fell in love instantly with that look!

I honestly do not recall when exactly I first watched Legend. My best guess is that I probably watched the movie on VHS a year or two after the original theatrical release, which places me around seven years of age, give or take. But I clearly remember in that moment dearly wanting to be Princess Lili. I wanted to feel that dress hugging my frame, wanted that black hair pulled tight and severe, with a few stray ringlets framing a countenance enthralled with the aesthetic magic and majesty of endless night.

I remember that I dearly, dearly wanted to be that Bad Girl that I saw on the screen, but more than that - deeper than that - I acknowledged for myself that I desperately wanted to be a girl. Lili was the one character who resonated for me. As I watched that 1980s fantasy movie, spellbound with wonder, I came face to face with the reality that I was a young woman.

The revelation of my nascent womanhood stayed with me for some time, before I began to repress those feelings in the name of self-preservation, though I was careful to keep those feelings to myself. That would have been around the age of seven. It's quite possible there were markers of my womanhood before that point, but that's the one which stands out in my mind.

During our conversation about queer awakenings, I showed my friend the dress scene from Legend, and I have to say, the visual impact of that scene still takes my breath away. These days I have more language, more conceptual scaffolding, to see the morality play on offer, to reflect upon the virgin, whore, and witch complexes playing across the silver screen. But that moment when Lili accepts the luxurious embrace of the dancing black dress, that moment where she seemingly takes a step beyond the innocence of childhood, that moment where the Bad Girl comes out to play, however haltingly - Without a doubt, that moment was one of my earliest queer awakenings.

For people like me who really came to terms with their queer identity somewhat later in life, it's sometimes funny - sometimes bittersweet - to reflect upon those memories which suddenly make so much more sense, knowing that we were queer then without being fully cognizant of that queerness or what that queerness meant. There are so many moments in my life - so many memories - which suddenly snap into clear focus, knowing that I am a trans woman.

I sometimes wonder how the trajectory of my life might have changed, if I could have meaningfully given voice to those little moments when I knew in my heart that I was a little girl, if I could have expressed those feelings in a supportive community which loved and affirmed me for who I really was.

That question remains an open one, and a question which I'll never really answer, but looking back on little Savannah, dreaming her precious, childlike dreams of becoming the frightening - but undeniably pretty - fantasy princess, I do sometimes wonder.