Munroe Bergdorf, Model: “If the trans community could provide capitalism with what white gay men do, we wouldn’t be as exploited.”

Yesterday, Munroe Bergdorf (Stansted Mountfitchet, UK, 37 years old) attended the summer party of the Royal Academy of Arts in London. This morning, after being featured among the best-dressed at the event in prestigious media, the model, writer, and transgender activist requested to delay the interview and photoshoot scheduled in this studio in Whitechapel, where she has just arrived, smiling, showing hardly any signs of the toll taken by a long night among the elite of London culture and fashion. “Well, if you could bring me a Red Bull and a Mars bar…”, she asks us with a guilty, charming smile. “I need a little sugar.”

These weeks have been quite busy for Bergdorf. At the beginning of June, her second book, Talk To Me, was released in the UK, a sort of guide on asserting oneself against the assaults of the international retrograde. Just two days before this meeting, Love & Rage, a documentary exploring her life—from her childhood in Essex, now one of the strongholds of Reform, the party of far-right Nigel Farage, to becoming the first transgender model to star in a campaign for cosmetic giant L’Oréal in 2017—was presented. Shortly after, she was fired due to a post on her Facebook written after the violent altercations in Charlottesville (USA) between white supremacists and counter-protesters that resulted in a fatality. In her post, Munroe stated that all white people have a racist inside, which upset many pale faces.

She was later appointed LGBTQ+ advisor for the Labour Party, but the media pressure forced her to resign almost immediately, as she felt her controversial presence was being used by the right and its proxy media to undermine then Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn. Shortly thereafter, she was made an ambassador for Childline, a government-funded charity dedicated to advising at-risk children. She also had to leave that position because the same media reported that someone who had appeared in Playboy could not hold that role. All of this was detailed in Transitional, her autobiography published in 2023—a year before experiencing yet another controversy when she was named UK Women’s Ambassador to the UN, sparking hatred from the most conservative sectors—which thoroughly recounts her existence as a career filled with obstacles she has never backed down from. She has always collided with barriers; sometimes the obstacle fell; other times, she did.

She has published a book and a documentary at a key moment for trans rights in the UK. Last month, the Supreme Court ruled on the definition of woman excluding trans women. How did you feel?

It’s devastating. I think it’s very important to recognize that this is part of a global trend.

Should there be an international trans alliance?

Of course. But who is going to fund it? They have all those billionaires funding the anti-trans movement. We don’t have the same capacity to fund ourselves. For a while, many of us thought things were changing because brands started to support our community, perhaps because they thought they could gain something in return. But once it became evident that the trans body was going to be politicized and seen as something controversial—although there’s nothing inherently controversial about being trans—that support disappeared.

Do you think every trans person has a responsibility to speak up?

It depends. If you have a public platform, then I think you do have a responsibility, especially now, because people are watching you. It’s not just about putting out messages; it’s a matter of bringing it into your work. However, I don’t think someone working in a hospital, a store, or an office necessarily has the duty to speak up because not all of us have the same resources or support networks. For many, silence is a form of survival. So, it really depends on the environment. But if you can, you should.

What can people outside the community do to help?

If you’re a journalist, use your words to advocate for our community. If you have a business, offer job opportunities. Unemployment in the trans community is extremely high. In the UK, the law says you cannot be fired for being trans, but discrimination still exists in the hiring process. If you work in health, spend some of your time helping us. If you’re good with numbers, lend a hand with accounting.

How do you manage the responsibility of knowing you’re a role model for many trans people?

It’s exhausting. When I started speaking out for the trans community, the circumstances were not what they are now. Back then, the conversation revolved around respect, dignity, and safety—things every person deserves. But now, both the British government and the media present us as enemies of the state. Yesterday, at the summer party of the Royal Academy of Arts, a woman, the mother of a trans child, approached me and began to cry. And… it’s intense. It happens to me often. It’s hard when someone you’ve never met starts crying in front of you. But it reaffirms that the work you’re doing goes beyond what you’re aware of. It also makes you see how much is at stake.

In 2017, your crisis with L’Oréal marked a turning point in your career…

I wrote a post on Facebook about the Charlottesville riots that followed the Unite the Right rally, one of the most terrifying events I have witnessed. Neo-Nazis, fascists, members of the KKK marching with torches… it was nightmarish. An anti-racist activist was killed when a white supremacist drove his car into a crowd. In my post, I felt like I was just recounting the facts.

You wrote that “all white people” were guilty of racial violence.

I was hurt by the reaction to my statement that white supremacy is one of the deadliest ideologies. It seemed absurd to me that someone would attack another for pointing out the root of the problem. At that moment, we were not used to discussing systemic racism in that way. Racism was understood as insulting someone. But there is a conscious system of oppression implemented over hundreds of years stemming from slavery and colonialism, which still maintains its benefits.

Why did you decide to enter that debate?

I felt like I had no choice. I had to speak up. I went to every news channel possible. I took every opportunity. I ended up exhausted. I cried live on Channel 4 News.

How do you experience racism?

I am not a dark-skinned Black woman, so I do not experience the worst of racism. But walking between two worlds, having two parents who look different from me and seeing how they are treated differently gave me a very clear understanding of how racism works in everyday life. When my mother and I went to the supermarket, sometimes the employees thought I was following her. When we all went shopping, people believed that my father, brother, and I—three Black people—were harassing a white woman.

In 2020, the murder of George Floyd opened a new conversation. What you said in 2017 didn’t seem so scandalous anymore.

Exactly. Up until that moment, I couldn’t get work. I was seen as a controversial figure talking about uncomfortable topics.

You’ve also talked about racism within the LGBTQ+ community. Is it something that is rarely addressed?

White gay men hold the most power and wealth. They are the main reason brands started supporting Pride. Many of those powerful white gay men are gradually distancing themselves from the parts of the community that lack power. If the trans community could provide capitalism with what the white male gay community does, we wouldn’t be as exploited by the system. We would be embraced by society because society could benefit from us. Any community from which capitalism cannot profit will always be exploited, harassed, and condemned. Because that exploitation also makes money. They generate more profits by hating us, condemning us, harassing us, and selling fear than by accepting us.

In one moment of her documentary, Munroe Bergdorf states that she never wanted to be Black or queer, that all she aspired to was to fit in her very white and conservative environment throughout her childhood. She was practically the only Black child at school, and the only preparation for her adulthood from what happened around her was the bullying she suffered. Far from the cliché, Bergdorf was an animal-loving child, obsessed with National Geographic. Fashion and everything that surrounds it didn’t interest her until she entered university. “Fashion was a portal to a different universe that I never imagined could exist,” she recalls. If there was no place for her in the conventional world, or the one that existed was uncomfortably painful, she was going to work as hard as possible to ensure a space was reserved for her in the other world she had just discovered. And she succeeded. She reached a position that now transcends fashion, as she promotes not only her image but also her identity and worldview.

“Munroe’s status as a style icon greatly annoys the most retrograde narrative, which drags this debate into the mud and only wants to talk about the dangers of sharing restrooms while aspiring to eliminate all norms that promote equality,” states Darren Styles, editor of Attitude, one of the leading LGBTQ+ media outlets in the UK. “Munroe being on the cover of Vogue or Rolling Stone takes the concept of trans representation to new heights. Her style is gaining followers, and if she has it, she should show it.” Styles notes that, as editor of Attitude, he has met many people, but no one has helped redefine his understanding of life as much as Munroe. “There’s no better way to educate than through kindness,” he points out, convinced that the glamour Bergdorf exudes does not diminish the credibility of her message. Gone are the days when something beautiful couldn’t be important, when something modern couldn’t endure. In the documentary Love & Rage, there is space for her struggle, but also for the strategies employed by her team to promote her career. Both things Bergdorf believes are worth narrating.

How did you start your modeling career?

For a while after moving to London, I was a DJ and met quite a few celebrities. One night, designer Philip Treacy walked into the venue where I was DJing with Grace Jones. I was mesmerized. I felt something similar to when I first saw André Leon Talley and Anna Wintour. I was obsessed with the work of Nick Knight and Alexander McQueen. Those fashion icons taught me a lot about the importance of carving out your own space. There’s a speech by trans activist Valerie Spencer where she talks about “owning your square foot of land.” In fashion, you have to make yourself known. While DJing at fashion parties, some photographers began to propose test shoots.

In those early years, being a trans model was still uncommon, wasn’t it?

I often found myself modeling in contexts that emphasized the “scandal” of including a transsexual. I accepted things then that I wouldn’t accept now, but I don’t regret it. It was a way into the industry. And the photos we took are beautiful. I don’t think there’s anything shameful about a trans body.

When did you feel like you made it?

When I was selected for a Uniqlo campaign photographed by Rankin. I was on billboards all over London. From there, I worked with Nick Knight. That made me dream. From Björk’s album covers to Alexander McQueen’s fashion shows, including directing the music video for Born This Way by Lady Gaga, I think we don’t value enough how much Nick Knight has influenced not just the zeitgeist of fashion but also the queer zeitgeist. He is a great ally of the trans community. After working with him, I was offered campaigns with Laura Mercier, Dove, and then L’Oréal.

Did you leave your parents’ house at 18 to go to university? Did you feel like you were starting a new life? Your real life?

I moved to Brighton to study English and Communication. I felt like I was finally given permission to be myself. I didn’t have neighbors spying behind the curtains, nor did I have to manage my parents’ expectations. I found a safe space to experiment. In my second and third years, many traumas resurfaced, and I saw that I lacked the tools to process them. I just wanted to run away. I developed an eating disorder and began to self-harm. I was trying to process the effects of being a victim of bullying. Although I was in an environment that could accept me as I was, many of those voices remained inside me. Now I want to empower younger queer generations because that harassment is still happening in schools. We all have an inner voice. And if that voice is constantly being attacked by others telling you to hate yourself, it becomes a habit to speak to yourself cruelly. And you end up believing it. Children are not inherently cruel; they simply repeat what they see around them. If hate culture takes root in society, children will absorb and replicate it. Gender is a construct that is taught. If culture tells those children that it’s permissible to hate transgender people, that will lead to transgender children being dead.

At what point in your transition were you when you finished university?

At university, I didn’t have the language to describe it. Terms like “non-binary” or “queer” were not in my vocabulary. After university, I moved to London and got a job in fashion public relations, but I had to return to using my official name. It felt like a step back. Although the Equality Act was passed in 2010, which meant you couldn’t be fired for being trans. I resigned from that position in 2010 and started DJing in Soho, in gay bars and clubs, as part of a collective called Pussy Palace, alongside some friends. I lived at night. Maybe I went out more than I should have. I started my transition at 24.

Many of your early romantic relationships were marked by abuse. Do you think that is common among trans people?

That has been the biggest comment I’ve received from girls who have seen my documentary. They’ve told me, “Thank you for speaking about it.” Women are more likely to be attacked or killed by their partners than by a stranger. That probability increases if you are a trans woman. I think this violence is more common at the beginning of a trans woman’s transition, because, at least in my case, I was willing to accept much more within a relationship because I had not yet accepted myself. I confused possession and control with love. When you feel like you don’t deserve to be loved, you accept the unacceptable. I needed to be surrounded by people who loved me because I was incapable of doing it myself. It took me a long time to realize that transitioning is an act of love towards oneself.

Have you made peace with your former self?

Yes. When I was younger, I didn’t want anyone to see pictures of me before transitioning. At one point, I destroyed all the photos because I didn’t want evidence that that version of me existed. Now I’m very proud of everything I have achieved. This person wouldn’t exist without that one.

What message would you send to young trans people now?

Always be kind to yourself. Focus on what you want for your life, beyond the fact that certain people refuse to see all that you are, beyond your trans identity. You are a whole person beyond that. Being trans is just one part of you. Think about what you want for your life and work to achieve it. Those invisible barriers that others have raised against you are not unbreakable; they can be torn down.