In Mongolia, gay, lesbian and transsexual people endure violence, discrimination and social repression, which leads many of them to dream of life away from its borders. The community draws from a variety of social classes and professions -- teachers, social workers, tour guides -- but what they all have in common is a life of solitude and constant concealment of their true identity. Being revealed as transgender can cost a person their job, and lead their family to sever all ties with them.
Spanish photographer Alvaro Laiz spent three and a half months documenting the lives of male to female transgender people in Ulaanbaatar, intrigued by how they saw themselves in the larger fiber of society. "I decided to travel to Mongolia because it's located in the junction in between three different worlds -- Russia, Europe and China, while still retaining its own identity," says Laiz. "The country is facing sudden changes after opening their borders to Western investment, but on the other hand, their nomadic and communist heritage still remains. It is this duplicity in their contemporary time that fascinated me," he explains.
Interview by Milena Veselinovic
Spanish photographer Alvaro Laiz spent three and a half months documenting the lives of male to female transgender people in Ulaanbaatar, intrigued by how they saw themselves in the larger fiber of society. "I decided to travel to Mongolia because it's located in the junction in between three different worlds -- Russia, Europe and China, while still retaining its own identity," says Laiz. "The country is facing sudden changes after opening their borders to Western investment, but on the other hand, their nomadic and communist heritage still remains. It is this duplicity in their contemporary time that fascinated me," he explains.
Interview by Milena Veselinovic
It took Laiz time to earn the confidence of the transgender community, and gain access to their inner circle: "I fully understand their cautions, because it is not easy to trust someone who has just arrived, especially in a place like Mongolia," he says.
For transgender people in Ulaanbaatar, life goes on behind closed doors. The only places where they can safely express themselves are underground clubs and private parties, some of which Laiz was fortunate enough to be invited to:" Actually, I have to say they organize the best parties in the city," he points out. Here Nurbul, a professional dancer, prepares herself for a private show at a gay party in Ulaanbaatar.
Only a handful are not frightened to show who they are freely, such as Gambush, a well-known night club dancer who dares to walk in the streets of Ulaanbaatar in female dress. She is pictured here getting ready for a night's work with her personal make-up artist, in a brothel where she used to work as a prostitute, but now teaches striptease.
Naaram, a close friend of Gambush, spent most of her youth in Russia where she became an alcoholic. Now back in Mongolia, she has no work which makes it difficult for her to look after her adoptive son: "I took care of him since he was a baby, but because gay people can't legally adopt in Mongolia his official guardians are my sister and her husband."
Nyamka, a 20-year-old social worker, is representative of a generation of young transgender Mongolians who dream to escape to countries such as Japan and The Philippines, where attitudes are more tolerant, and where there is a possibility, no matter how faint, of a sex change.
Nyamka performs at underground parties as her alter ego "Vanity", but is careful to remove her make-up and change from female clothes in a taxi immediately after her performance. Men who dress like women in public often suffer harassment and even physical violence in Mongolia.
Baara, who is 55, lives in one of the poorest districts of Ulaanbaatar. He earns a low wage working for a local NGO, but struggles to get more lucrative employment due to being transgender: "Ulaanbaatar is very small. It's very difficult for me to get a job because everyone knows me," he says.
After one of his subjects showed Laiz an old Mongolian queen dress, he decided to photograph the group clad in traditional garments outside Ulaanbaatar. "I wanted to take the viewer to a place far away from prejudices on transgender, so they can understand that these people are nothing but human beings who are trying to live their lives. There is nothing wrong about it," he explains.