British transgender actors are appealing for roles in non-transgender roles

Kim Tatum dreams of playing Norma Desmond, the outstanding former star of the silent films of Sunset Boulevard. Mariah Louca longs to act as Dangerous Liaisons’ evil schemer, Marquise de Merteuil. And for Reece Lyons, it’s Lady Macbeth’s monstrous ambition that makes her the ideal role. But until attitudes change within British theater, it is unlikely that these talented performers will be able to play their dream characters. Despite their skills, education, and accolades, trans women just can’t seem to be cast in cisgender roles.

“I’ve never seen a trans woman on stage playing a mother or a love interest,” says Lyons, who has won an Offie award. “Why don’t we think about that?” Lyons sits on a low couch in a bright room across from Tatum and Louca. Frustrated by the continued obstacles they face in the industry, the three actors are calling for trans women to be placed on equal footing for cis roles.

In 2019, the performing arts and entertainment union Equity called for more casting directors to consider trans actors for non-trans roles. But from the experiences of this intergenerational trio – and the anecdotal stories of their friends from the trans community – that hasn’t happened. “We just want the opportunity to audition,” explains Tatum, who also performs under the name Mzz Kimberley, “to prove that we’re just as good as our cis counterparts. Things have changed dramatically since I started my career in the 1990s, but the industry is reluctant to take a chance on us.”

Ten years ago, it wasn’t unusual to see cis artists playing trans roles on stage and screen. The industry has now largely recognized that this is not acceptable. Yet for many, this is the point where the conversation stalls. “The formalities have been checked, such as respecting pronouns,” Lyons explains. “But transphobia still shows up in casting processes. We are only invited to play trans women under very specific conditions.”

As a result, trans performers struggle to find consistent work. “You can’t have a sustainable career in theater if you’re only going to play trans roles,” Lyons says. There just aren’t enough parts. The inability to audition trans women for cis roles is a refusal to truly see them as women.

For a long time this was not something Louca had to deal with. She didn’t reveal she was transgender to the industry until she was 40. “I didn’t want the world to forever pigeonhole me as a trans woman instead of just a woman,” she says. “Of course it has its dangers and its downsides, but it was great to just be seen as the woman I’ve always known.” On stage, Louca was cast in a liberatingly wide variety of roles. “I played mothers and queens and wives,” she laughs, “and I didn’t want that to change.”

In 2019, around the time Equity made its statement and the National Theater held a two-day transcasting conference, it seemed the conversation was changing. Casting directors Louca spoke to said the industry actively wanted trans voices, so she made the difficult decision to make it public. “I got busy very quickly,” she says cautiously, “but it’s already slowed down. And it got me into the casting world of exclusively trans roles.”

Auditions for cis roles are much rarer, Louca finds, and most trans roles she is seen for feature trans pain at the forefront. None of the three are against playing trans roles, as long as that is not the only thing they are eligible for. Lyons proudly talks about appearing in Travis Alabanza’s one-woman show, Overflow, in 2020 as Rosie, a trans woman who talks to the audience from a club bathroom. But when you’re seen almost exclusively for trans roles, these diminish. “Trauma is often the only thing we have to offer,” says Louca. “Why would I want to experience that again?” Even in trans roles that supposedly strive for authenticity, transphobia can creep in: one director told Louca she wasn’t cast in a role because she “didn’t look trans enough.”

Tatum, who performed in Young Jean Lee’s satire Straight White Men at Southwark Playhouse in London in 2021, reiterates this point: “Many don’t understand that being trans or non-binary is not new. We have always been here. As a community we were pushed underground for years. But when a marginalized community finds its voice, there is always someone trying to bring them down with false propaganda.”

To achieve more opportunities and more equality for trans women, Louca believes that quotas should be introduced. “If you have 20 people auditioning, audition two or three transgender people,” she suggests. Demonstrably increasing the number of trans performers eligible for non-trans roles would enable more artists to build sustainable careers, develop more talent for our stages and help influence audience attitudes. “Casting directors, producers and directors shape our story,” says Tatum. “But if you give trans women more visibility on stage and screen, it helps society understand us better.”

In October 2023, hate crime against transgender people reached a record high in England and Wales. “I went through years of not being able to breathe [in public],” says Tatum. “I hid under big glasses and a baseball hat.”

Related: From Barbie to Talk to Me: Visibility for Trans Actors Is at a Tipping Point – and About Time | Caspar Salmon

Fueled by a desire to reclaim the story – and by responding to the lack of opportunities they see – Louca and Lyons develop their own work. Louca is writing a police thriller for TV in which she wants to play the leading role. There’s a lot of interest in it, but she’s struggled to get the green light without a star attached, despite being told it “turns the trans conversation on its head” – and there are few ‘star’ trans actors in Great Britain. “The US is big steps ahead in that area,” she says, especially on screen.

For the stage, Lyons writes a one-woman show about the morally gray Lilith who has an affair with Adam behind Eve’s back. “More often than not, trans women on stage are likable because they are written by a cis person who is very careful and wants to do it for representation,” Lyons says with a hint of cynicism. “I don’t do it for representation. I do it so you can identify with her and say, fuck, I was that woman.”

Making your own work should not be the only option. These actors are tired of being rejected before they have a chance to show what they can do. “The talent exists,” Louca notes. “If you would just let us audition, you would see.”

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