This grassroots community of creatives and activists are defiant in the face of Mexico’s hostility towards the LGBTQ+ community
Every day, in the centre of Mexico City, a flea market takes place. At the market, trans girls and queer folx gather under a railway, selling clothing, art, makeup, zines, accessories, sex toys and more. It’s named La Tianguis Sexo Disidente – which translates as ‘The Market of the Dissident Sex’.
But despite the name tianguis (flea market), this is not just about shopping. This is a rebel occupation of public space; a community of creatives and activists responding to the generations of social erasure and violence towards LGBTQ+ people in Mexico.
After asking around, I was connected with one of the sellers; a young illustrator and tattoo artist called Julia Zambrano, who invited me to come down. The market is found at Glorieta de los Insurgentes, an intersection connecting a number of train lines and bus routes. Even at night, the place is busy, packed with commuters changing trains or making their way home.
I arrived after dark, and soon spotted some rails of clothing and the slow amble of nighttime shoppers. A tianguis in full swing, with bright strip lighting illuminating blankets on the ground, covered by neat rows of items for sale: the kind of punk, goth and Y2K merch that defines the ‘queer aesthetic’. The walls are scrawled with drawings of queer icons, superheroes, and protest slogans which spell out their philosophy: respecta mis pronombres (respect my pronouns), mi sexualidad no es asunto tuyo (my sexuality is none of your business), intersex existe (intersex exists).
Julia introduces me to a group of young trans women: here, I meet two of the founders, Laura Glover, a nail artist, and researcher and Rojo Génesis, also a researcher, as well as an illustrator and photographer. While a group of LGBTQ+ people running a market may not be considered radical in the UK, they explain that here in Mexico, things are different. There are laws to support LGBTQ+ people, but many of these do not work in practice. Generally speaking, the people most impacted are trans women: poor access to healthcare (including gender reassignment surgery and hormone therapy), employment, and housing has created a hostile living environment.
“Inclusion policies continue to be insufficient for trans women. Even in the act of being offered support, we continued to be ridiculed and treated with mistrust” – Rojo Génesis
Anti-discrimination laws, legalised same-sex marriage and the possibility of officially changing your name or sex are often made obsolete by bureaucracy, hidden costs and endless waiting lists. Many feel the issue is as much to do with homophobia and transphobia within the system itself. “At the core, it is colonialism which has brought LGBTQ people, women and indigenous people to their knees,” Laura tells me. Nothing makes this clearer than the lack of statistics and investigation into transphobic and homophobic hate crimes and murders: despite the lack of data, a 2019 report by leading human rights organisations still placed Mexico as the second most dangerous country for transgender people in the world.
For La Tianguis Sexo Disidente, to be visible is to put themselves at risk. And yet they recognise that visibility is essential to bring about change. As another member of the group, Loba, puts it: “By protesting we contribute to our freedom, we ensure that our voice is heard and that we are not looked at as an object of mockery or labelling. Labels should only go on clothes.”
During the pandemic, Laura and Rojo tell me that the trans community was hard hit by unemployment. “The destiny of every average trans woman is first to become a prostitute, second to beg, third to migrate and fourth to become an activist,” Laura quips. They wanted to find an alternative. The idea for a market came up, and they scouted for a location – what better place than the roundabout at Glorieta de los Insurgentes? With high footfall and great transport links for those living out of town, it was a practical choice. But Glorieta de los Insurgentes also holds ideological weight: named after the rebels who fought for Mexico’s independence, it has a long history of protest.
Their first call-out was in February 2021. The flyer was adorned with prison photographs of trans women from the 70s, a tribute to those that went before. Only ten people showed up at first, but today more than a hundred people come and go every week. As well as the flea market, they also organise raves, fashion shows, fundraisers and marches. Laura emphasises the importance of creating a space which is not only for activists: some people are just here to sell and that’s OK. Girls who arrived destitute are making a living, and their presence itself is a form of protest.
“La Tianguis Disidente has been important in the history of LGBTQ+ people in Mexico, as it was probably the first time we took a public space without asking anyone’s permission, and without the support of institutions and activist groups,” Laura says. Rojo adds that it was important for them to break away from the existing activist groups in the city. “In reality, the creation of this space was another symptom of the discomfort we felt in the existing activist spaces,” she says. “Inclusion policies continue to be insufficient for trans women. Even in the act of being offered support, we continued to be ridiculed and treated with mistrust. We wanted to create a space where LGBTQ+ people could benefit.”
Their tenacity has created an environment that, despite all its challenges, is theirs. One they bravely pay the price for. Hostility and attacks from nearby sellers, exacerbated by police negligence, are just part of the struggle. Yet they assure me they are here to stay – they have faith in the cultural significance of this tianguis, and hope to become a permanent part of the fabric of Mexico City. They are open about the fact that, like every utopia, their system is flawed. The collective is not perfect, and arguments often erupt. But they are a community. Here, they can express themselves how they like. They have autonomy. It’s a small pocket of the world where they can be free.
“Starting with the fact that this world is the worst possible world, as Leonor Silvestri said, we thought it was very important to learn to coexist not in a safe space, but in conflict,” Laura says. “Above all, being trans, queer and lesbian girls, we have to work together to alleviate our hunger.” As our conversation ends Julia holds out a tupperware of stickers she has designed to sell; sexy devils and cute fairies. I pick out a lithe she-devil, drawn from behind as she twists into an elegant yoga pose. It turns out there is grace in hell, after all.
La Tianguis Disidente takes place in the underpass of Glorieta de los Insurgentes, Mexico City, every day between 10am and 8pm.
Follow Laura Glover’s charity and research project Transyfugas here, and Rojo Génesis’s audiovisual project Casa de Hadas here. Both accounts aim to resist social erasure by creating an archive and documenting the stories of trans people in Mexico. You can also donate to Transyfugas here.
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