Featured photo: Jules is a nonbinary, trans person who got their portraits taken by Graham Morrison in Winston-Salem on Dec. 7. (photo by Graham Morrison)
Graham Morrison gives Jules direction as the model sits on a stool in Morrison’s small back portrait studio. Sneaker Pimps’s “6 Underground” plays in the background.
“Like 10 percent, 12 percent more smile,” Morrison says, directing his model. “No, no! That’s 30 percent, go back!”
“It’s hard!” Jules replies, smiling from ear to ear. “I have resting smiling face.”
Next to a prismatic, reflective wall nearby, a mannequin, which Morrison lovingly calls “Chappell Roan,” stands decked out in a neon-pink feathered robe. In the hallway leading to the studio, an entire room is filled with vibrant costumes, numerous wigs and six-inch studded heels. In the lobby, a pink neon light casts a fuschia tone throughout the space. A disco-ball-like wall buttressed by fake plants, a Pride flag and pink star-shaped sunglasses greet visitors when they first walk in. But for the background behind Jules, in the back studio, the tone is muted: it’s a plain grey. And there’s a reason for that.
For the past several weeks, ever since the election, Morrison has been offering to do free portraits for gender nonconforming and trans people in Winston-Salem. It’s his way of giving back to the community that has had his back for years.
Morrison, who today wears a navy button-up shirt and dark jeans, sports minimal makeup on his face, a stark contrast to the look he serves as his well-known persona Anna Yacht, the drag queen, who performs in and around the city. While many know Morrison for his work in drag, he also has a photography business. And as soon as Trump was elected, he knew he had to do something.
“There are so many people who are more affected than I am,” Morrison says. “As a white, queer, gay man, it’s bad, but I have trans friends who are going to be feeling the effects of this much more.”
Data by the Trevor Project has shown that about 41 percent of LGBTQIA+ young people seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year. For trans and nonbinary youth, the percentage was higher — about 50 percent. Among the LGBTQIA+ community, those who experience the highest rates of anxiety and depression tended to be transgender or nonbinary.
“I knew that I wanted to do this as a way to give back and help them feel seen,” Morrison says.
Jules, who preferred to use just a first name for safety purposes, describes themselves as trans and androgyne. They’ve known Morrison for years through their connection to the LGBTQIA+ community and decided to reach out when they saw he was doing these portraits on their Instagram.
“I thought it would be fun,” Jules says. “It seemed like a cool project. And it shows queer life in Winston-Salem. Especially in the South, people forget that queer people exist here and that we’re very present.”
Post election, Jules says they wish more people who voted for Trump understood they likely have loved ones who are queer or are part of the LGBTQIA+ community who might not feel safe enough around them to come out.
“They can’t be their authentic selves around you, and that’s a very sad experience,” they say.
And that’s part of the reason Morrison started this project in the first place: to ensure that queer people weren’t invisibilized because of Trump’s re-election.
“My heart just breaks for my friends who will be affected by this administration,” he says. “The erasure of their stories. I want to put an exclamation mark on their stories so they’re visible.”
Back in the studio, Jules, who sports a mullet with frosted bangs and black, baggy clothes, tilts their head as Morrison directs them to lower their chin just a bit.
Although they’re an artist themselves, Jules explains that they have never really liked being photographed.
“I’ve always been very particular about how people take photos of me,” they say. “I don’t know how much of that is thinly veiled narcissism.”
But part of it has been their journey of how to identify and present themselves in the world. Although they first tried to come out as nonbinary when they were about 11 years old, they’ve had to work on different aspects of their appearance to settle on something that feels authentic to them. For a while, they were presenting more as masculine and using he/they pronouns. But in 2019, they started wearing makeup again and about a year ago, they dropped the “he” from their pronouns.
“I’ve never been good at being a woman or a man,” Jule says. “So at some point, I have to just be what makes me feel good because I’m not going to please anybody.”
As they got older, Jules realized that they didn’t have enough documentation of their life.
“I was like, Oh my god, I’m in my late twenties, and I don’t have any photos of myself,” Jule says.
These days they’re working to maintain keepsakes like ticket stubs to remember important moments of their life. And that’s what brought them to the studio.
“I don’t know, I just want to feel pretty,” Jules says, smiling. “I don’t feel that I have particularly low self esteem, but I feel like I’m an acquired taste. I guess ultimately I want to feel a little less like a very dry wine and something that everyone likes, just for a day.”
And that’s exactly what Morrison says he’s set out to do with these portraits.
“Everybody has days where they don’t feel confident,” he says. “But hopefully with these, they can look back at a moment in time when they did feel confident and see that version still exists.”
That’s why the background, which is usually very colorful for portraits he does for other people — namely other drag artists — is muted. It’s to ensure that the subject he’s shooting is the main focus.
“A big thing for me is showcasing people in ways that they are seeing themselves in a positive light where the world may not always see it,” Morrison says.
Jules says that finding the queer community in Winston-Salem has been a saving grace. Connecting with others who are living their own fully authentic lives and love Jules for who they are is part of the reason they’ve felt confident enough to step in front of the camera.
“Prior to this year, I went a long time thinking that as long as I like myself, then that was fine,” Jules says. “But now I’m liking myself in ways that my friends and loved ones love me, and I’m trying to see myself the way they see me.”
The Smiths play in the background as Morrison directs Jules to raise their leg onto a platform.
“It’s kind of giving Captain Morgan,” Morrison quips.
“I hate being a huge bitch with resting smile face,” Jules laughs, posing.
“Love that little smile,” Morrison says. “Excellent. Oh yeah, perfect.”
Sign up for your own photo shoot by following Morrison on Instagram at @yachtstudios.
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