Susy Shock: “If you’re not in your desire, you’re in life on borrowed time.”
Poet, singer, actress, writer, South American transvestite, and teacher. She tours much of Argentina on a self-directed basis, and her art isn't consolation; it's a loving rebellion for today and for what's to come.
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An essential figure in transvestite activism in Argentina, Susy Shock has been weaving a unique journey from the south for over two decades, where art, activism, teaching, and self-management coexist. Her latest book, La Loreta/Pibe roto , and the album Revuelo sur have her touring various provinces, in a political and poetic commitment to face-to-face encounters, to resistance through the body, music, and words.
A poet, singer, actress, writer, and educator of desire, in each performance with her Flock of Hummingbirds, she unfolds an invitation to disobey the established order, to reclaim the collective, to search for meaning even in times when everything seems in free fall. “We must pursue art, not only to be artists, but to be more creative people, which is what this era needs,” she says in this interview, where she talks about her beginnings, her inspirations, the collapse of the system, the youth taking up the baton, and new ways of creating community.
–You're a role model for many people, and you always have words of encouragement and resilience. Where do you get so much strength?
–It's the question I get asked the most. As if I had a magic formula… I think it has to do with having projects, with really projecting yourself. And asking yourself: Are you in what you are, in your desire? I'm a girl who's always been in her desire. That sustains you. All that the New Age asshole has stolen from us, and then it's lost consistency, like the word dreams. I also think we have to insist on looking at ourselves: Where were we when the government changed? Where were we when our leadership failed us? Where are we when the planet collapses?
These are the questions in this era of capitalist collapse. Milei and Trump are the people the system needs to pretend it's alive, but in reality, it's already collapsing. And are we in a position to confront something other than capitalism? It's not even a discussion about this administration or the next, but rather has to do with profound human issues.
Everything that comes in this country is going to be tough, so we have to stand tall, knowing who we are and what we want. Otherwise, it's like being on loan in this life.
–Who inspired you on this journey?
–First, my father and mother. A textile worker and a housewife who later became a janitor. They didn't read Foucault or Judith Butler, but they knew how to embrace the childhood they brought into the world. And that was key. Then, teachers who had a profound impact on me: Miss Dolores, whom I honored in my book "Crianzas" (Children's Parenting); Héctor Propato, a theater teacher; and, of course, Lohana Berkins and so many colleagues who supported me through art and activism.
–Your shows are a mix: texts, tango, folklore, performance. How do you think about them?
–I don't even know, but I do know that I understand myself as a performing artist. I struggle to write something that doesn't first pass through my body, through the stage. There's a need to communicate, knowing that there's someone who's going to receive it. And that's political, too. The important thing is not to lose the sense of the collective.
–Last year you toured Europe. What was that experience like?
–Beautiful. We were in Berlin, Barcelona, Madrid, Bilbao, and also in Italy. And the most beautiful thing was the embrace of our own tribe there. Because they're far away, but they need a little time in the country, with songs, to hear the tunes. We did performances and also held discussions with the groups that support Argentina No Se Venta (Argentina Is Not for Sale ). It was powerful. And of course, you bring the latest album, but it's truly an entire body of work to share.
Fufú Radio streaming come about and what place does it occupy today?
–It was born out of our experiences at Radio Nacional, where we made Brotecitos and La Cotorral with Marlene Wayar. When the government changed, we wanted that community to know we were still there. Then the younger people around us proposed these streaming methods, which I feel are a code that works well for the kids. I feel like there's something that needs to be more developed, that it's not just the improvisation of turning on the camera and starting to talk about anything. It's a very important moment to say anything. I think ideas need more elaboration and that we shouldn't get lost in the rush that the times invite us to. Quite the opposite. So it's an experience with which we're not in any race, or ratings fight, or any of those issues.
There are many more programs coming out, and it's also very rewarding to think that we have plenty of time and nothing is rushing us. The space is ours, for transvestite, trans, and non-binary voices. When someone wants to, they turn it on and start talking. And we can also wait, because there are ideas to mature.
–On your tours around the country, what climate do you find in this political context?
–We made a big bet with my band. After releasing the album last year, we decided to go on tour. So we grabbed the wagon and headed out. And in the videos, I invite people: “We’ll go, you fill the venues.” And that’s what’s happening. There’s also this idea that if the State doesn’t support us, it seems like nothing’s happening. And I think we’re experiences that have rarely been taken by the State to tour the country. We’re self-managed artists. I toured the country before thanks to a bunch of young people, before the debate on same-sex marriage or in the midst of all that, who would raise money in their provinces, stop at their houses, put on shows, fill them up, and make a living from that.
In a way, this tour is about injecting that energy and also valuing self-management. So far, what's happening is beautiful. At each performance, we also invite people to set up altars.
–Altars?
–Yes. They're generally organized by local transvestites. It's very beautiful, because not only are there symbols of each place we visit, but also images of those who are no longer here, and that gives it a very beautiful spiritual weight. I feel there's something about the ritual that needs to be revisited in such a frivolous, profound moment. We have to stop the ball and say that we still matter to each other. There are a lot of things that still matter to us, and a lot of people too. And a lot of what constitutes us still matters to us. So, if this tour serves to position ourselves from there, and to differentiate ourselves politically from this filthy era, then welcome it.
–Do you feel that there are new generations taking over?
–I feel there are many valuable people today, a youth with very beautiful memories, who grew up with the names of Lohana and Diana Sacayán. Even without having experienced them personally. That speaks to a collective memory we have. I don't know if that will emerge from our own experience. Perhaps we need to be building the possibility of other narratives from the community. I lived in a country that had that fabulous triad: Berkins, Sacayán, and Wayar, and before that, Nadia Echazú, who built this country. And it was very profound, but also very unprecedented, to travel through a country with such caciques all together. That doesn't have to be repeated. Back then, we were dreaming of a country because we believed there was a planet with a future. And today we don't know if there is a future. So, how do we reestablish ourselves as little people dreaming under the abyss of feeling like there's no future?
This implies new political challenges, but also emotional and spiritual ones, so that whatever comes next finds us on our own agenda. And I don't see that in our leadership or in our political parties. I believe that art is slowly, very subtly still, beginning to raise some questions about this. And we must go that way. We must follow art. Not only to be artists, but to be, in any case, more creative people, which is what this era needs.
Books, schools, childhoods and other kinds of success
Susy Shock's latest book, La Loreta/Pibe roto , was presented at the last Book Fair, but Crianzas – Historias para crecer en toda la diversa (Crianzas – Stories for Growing Up in All Diversity ), published in 2017 by Muchas Nueces, remains her most relatable text to children and schools. "That book was born in radio format, in three minutes that burst onto national radio programming," she says. The proposal emerged from the La Vaca cooperative and became a fundamental teaching tool. "It was teaching that embraced it and brought it into the classroom," she reveals.
The book, in which a transvestite aunt speaks—out of love for her nephew Uriel—to families, schools, and neighbors about the importance of letting ourselves be who we are, opened the door to in-depth discussions, such as the use of the word "trava" instead of "trans woman," in accessible, everyday language.
“The exciting thing is seeing how children have embraced it. Sometimes they come and ask me to sign their book with their new name, after they've transitioned. They bring it to me and want me to sign it again with the same handwriting, but with their chosen name. That moves me deeply,” she shares.
Crianzas was also a self-management tool: thanks to its sales—which do not appear in rankings or cultural supplements—Marlene Wayar's first book, Travesti, a Good Enough Theory, published by the same publisher, was funded.
"These are our big little victories. Success, for us, has another name: it's called community," Susy proudly emphasizes.
This interview was originally published in our partner outlet Tiempo Argentino.
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