Luly Arias is an actress, activist, educator and nurse from San José, Catamarca, Argentina. She began her gender transition during adolescence and, at 16, was expelled from her family home. She later studied Pedagogy and Social Education, graduating in 2009 before moving to Buenos Aires, where she continued her education in nursing. Her professional and artistic trajectory developed alongside her activism. She became involved in Cooperativa Arte Trans, a pioneering theatre collective created to provide transgender and travesti people with opportunities in the arts, and appeared in productions including Made in Lanús. She was also one of the protagonists of Guillermo Bergandi's documentary Reina de Corazones and later joined the cast of Telefe's prime-time series Pequeña Victoria in 2019. Education has remained central to Arias's work. She taught at the Bachillerato Popular Travesti Trans Mocha Celis, where she worked with trans and travesti students, and later worked within the diversity area of the Buenos Aires Province Ministry of Health, including training healthcare professionals in inclusive care.
Luly has also participated in projects such as Unides por la Música, bringing together trans, travesti and non-binary artists from Argentina and Uruguay, and has written extensively about trans representation, employment, housing, healthcare, cultural inclusion and historical memory. Her work combines artistic practice with activism, with particular attention to the opportunities available to transgender people outside the stereotypes traditionally imposed on them. From a small town in Catamarca to theatre, television, public health and activism in Buenos Aires, Luly Arias's trajectory has crossed many of the institutions from which transgender people have historically been excluded, while she has continued working to make those spaces more accessible to others.
Monika: Luly, welcome to The Heroines of My Life! You've gone from Catamarca to Buenos Aires, from nursing and education to theatre, television and activism. At this point, does your CV even fit on one page, or have you simply given up trying?
Luly: Honestly, I've done a lot of things throughout my life. Next year I'll turn 40, and I can't believe how many activities, tasks and roles I've taken on. But I think that's just who I am: dynamic, chameleon-like, always wanting to try different things and take on new challenges.
For example, this year I started working in the Judiciary, specifically at the Council of the Magistracy, and I'm taking on a challenge with other colleagues from the Women’s Justice Center and with the department where I work in: putting together a plain-spoken book that can serve as a guide so that trans people, when they start a job or move through different spaces, can be received and treated with respect and inclusion.
At the same time, I'm doing theatre with some colleagues from the Travesti Trans Empowerment Cooperative. We're working on a play written, directed and performed by trans people, and that makes me very happy.
For example, this year I started working in the Judiciary, specifically at the Council of the Magistracy, and I'm taking on a challenge with other colleagues from the Women’s Justice Center and with the department where I work in: putting together a plain-spoken book that can serve as a guide so that trans people, when they start a job or move through different spaces, can be received and treated with respect and inclusion.
At the same time, I'm doing theatre with some colleagues from the Travesti Trans Empowerment Cooperative. We're working on a play written, directed and performed by trans people, and that makes me very happy.
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| "I didn’t have many role models, other than my mother." |
Monika: Do you think you'll always be like this?
Luly: I think I'll always be like this, because I also have my mother as a reference point. She's 60 and still active, doing a thousand things, learning and starting new projects. So I think I still have a long way to go, many challenges ahead, and a lot left to do.
Monika: You began your transition during adolescence, at a time when Argentina was very different from the country it is today. What do you remember most vividly about discovering and understanding your identity back then?
Luly: When I started my transition, I didn't have many role models or trans friends nearby. I lived in a very small town, of about 8,000 people, and to this day I'm still the only trans woman there.
There was a nearby city, though also fairly small, where there were a few trans girls, but not many, and at the time I didn't have much contact with them. So I didn't have many references for how to begin my transition or how to walk that path.
My main references were the women around me, especially my mom. She was the one who accompanied me in my first steps: she gave me my first nail polish and makeup, lent me her clothes, and walked that process with me.
If I had any trans references on TV, one thing was always clear to me: who I wanted to be, and that I wanted to live my life as a woman. Today I have fully formed my identity as a trans woman.
There was a nearby city, though also fairly small, where there were a few trans girls, but not many, and at the time I didn't have much contact with them. So I didn't have many references for how to begin my transition or how to walk that path.
My main references were the women around me, especially my mom. She was the one who accompanied me in my first steps: she gave me my first nail polish and makeup, lent me her clothes, and walked that process with me.
If I had any trans references on TV, one thing was always clear to me: who I wanted to be, and that I wanted to live my life as a woman. Today I have fully formed my identity as a trans woman.
Monika: When you came out, did your mother embrace you as her daughter? And do you feel any connection to her in the way you look, carry yourself, or even in your style and mannerisms?
Luly: We're completely alike, and she says I'm just like her mother, my grandmother.
When I came out, my father let go of my hand and threw me out of the house, but my mother, even from a distance, stood by me, she'd tell me not to stop studying, she'd secretly give me packed meals, and in the end she always supported me once I came out.
When I came out, my father let go of my hand and threw me out of the house, but my mother, even from a distance, stood by me, she'd tell me not to stop studying, she'd secretly give me packed meals, and in the end she always supported me once I came out.
Monika: You left your family home at sixteen, at an age when most teenagers are still relying heavily on their families. What did those first months on your own look like, and what did you have to learn very quickly?
Luly: Those months were very hard. That's when I learned what it means to go hungry, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. It was a very dark time in my life, but it also left me with lessons I carry to this day. I learned to value and respect my body, to understand body diversity, and above all to appreciate every bit of food and every nutrient I eat.
At the same time, that period taught me to work and to be independent. I did different jobs to get by: I sold catalog products, made and sold empanadas and other food, until I finally worked as a nanny caring for an autistic boy, whom I looked after for three years.
They were years of a lot of effort, of looking for different ways to get ahead. It wasn't easy, but every job and every experience gave me tools to build my independence.
At the same time, that period taught me to work and to be independent. I did different jobs to get by: I sold catalog products, made and sold empanadas and other food, until I finally worked as a nanny caring for an autistic boy, whom I looked after for three years.
They were years of a lot of effort, of looking for different ways to get ahead. It wasn't easy, but every job and every experience gave me tools to build my independence.
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| "Today what makes me truly happy is being recognized by my parents." |
Monika: You were studying Pedagogy and Social Education while dealing with circumstances that could easily have derailed your education. What kept you going when continuing your studies must have been so difficult?
Luly: Yes, like I said, it really wasn't easy. There were days when I had to choose between paying for the bus fare, buying photocopies, notes or books, or eating. So I kept finding different ways to work around it. For example, sometimes I'd go to a classmate's house, read her books, take notes, summarize them and copy them out. That way I could access the material without having to buy it. Those were strategies I found to keep studying.
But like I said, my mom's support, even from a distance, was essential. For me she was my anchor and my support. That's why I place so much emphasis on the importance of family and on how important it is to feel accompanied.
I deeply regret that many of my trans sisters haven't had, or don't have, that family support, because I think it's something very important. Luckily, many build their own networks, forge bonds and create their own chosen families, and that also becomes a great source of strength to keep going.
But like I said, my mom's support, even from a distance, was essential. For me she was my anchor and my support. That's why I place so much emphasis on the importance of family and on how important it is to feel accompanied.
I deeply regret that many of my trans sisters haven't had, or don't have, that family support, because I think it's something very important. Luckily, many build their own networks, forge bonds and create their own chosen families, and that also becomes a great source of strength to keep going.
Monika: Do you remember the first time you met a transgender woman in person? What was that experience like, and how did it make you feel?
Luly: Honestly, every question you ask leaves me stunned, because they take me back to my adolescence, to those moments when the Gender Identity Law didn't exist yet and I still had to move forward anyway, in my heels, walking ahead and often pushing through shame and fear. But I had to keep going.
Today what makes me truly happy is being recognized by my parents and, especially, by my trans sisters. That's the recognition that matters most to me, because it's like looking in a mirror: you see yourself reflected in the other. And I feel that, in a way, I have a moral obligation to support and help those sisters for whom things are harder. I don't want them to have to go through what I went through. If I can do something to make their paths a little easier, I feel it's worth doing.
Today what makes me truly happy is being recognized by my parents and, especially, by my trans sisters. That's the recognition that matters most to me, because it's like looking in a mirror: you see yourself reflected in the other. And I feel that, in a way, I have a moral obligation to support and help those sisters for whom things are harder. I don't want them to have to go through what I went through. If I can do something to make their paths a little easier, I feel it's worth doing.
Monika: In 2009 you moved from Catamarca to Buenos Aires with an education behind you, expecting that it might help you find work. Instead, you encountered discrimination and eventually found yourself pushed into prostitution. Looking back, what do you think society failed to understand about you at that time?
Luly: It was a very discriminatory society, with a lot of workplace discrimination, no gender identity law, no travesti-trans employment quota law. Even today, despite those laws, it's still hard to find work.
Monika: You have spoken about the Hotel Gondolín, a place that has become almost legendary in Argentine trans history. What did Gondolín mean to you when you first arrived in Buenos Aires?
Luly: I'll tell you, the Hotel Gondolín, back then, did open its doors to me and gave me a place to live, but living there wasn't easy. All of us who lived there were doing sex work, and there was a lot of competition among us. What we now call sisterhood or solidarity didn't exist back then, in many ways, we were rivals. So living at the Gondolín at that time wasn't simple.
I stayed there only a short while, precisely because living together was so difficult. But over the years I was able to go back, and today I find a completely different Gondolín.
Today it's a Gondolín that truly embraces you. The way we live together has changed enormously, and I feel that I was finally able to reconnect with that space from a different place. Today I feel like I'm part of the Hotel Gondolín.
That's where we created our cooperative, Travesti Trans Empowerment, together with other companions. From that space we work, we make textile garments, we put on plays, and above all, we build community.
It's also a meeting place: we share an afternoon snack, a dinner, we talk, we tell each other about our lives, and we connect from a different place, with a lot of warmth and respect.
I stayed there only a short while, precisely because living together was so difficult. But over the years I was able to go back, and today I find a completely different Gondolín.
Today it's a Gondolín that truly embraces you. The way we live together has changed enormously, and I feel that I was finally able to reconnect with that space from a different place. Today I feel like I'm part of the Hotel Gondolín.
That's where we created our cooperative, Travesti Trans Empowerment, together with other companions. From that space we work, we make textile garments, we put on plays, and above all, we build community.
It's also a meeting place: we share an afternoon snack, a dinner, we talk, we tell each other about our lives, and we connect from a different place, with a lot of warmth and respect.
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| "I always loved soap operas." |
Monika: How did you discover theatre? Was becoming an actress something you had dreamed about before Arte Trans, or did theatre discover you?
Luly: Ever since I was little, being a "sissy," as they used to say back then, I always loved soap operas. As a kid I watched Thalía's telenovelas, like María Mercedes, Marimar and María la del Barrio, and I dreamed of one day being able to act out those scenes, play those characters and be up on a stage.
Over time, that dream came true in a way. When I was studying Nursing, I used to walk from my house to the university, and along the way I passed a storefront where a theatre cooperative operated. One day I went in, met the girls there, and they told me about what they were doing. That's how I ended up at the Cooperativa Arte Trans and started doing theatre with my colleagues. And it really was beautiful to discover that something I had loved since childhood could become something concrete in my life.
Over time, that dream came true in a way. When I was studying Nursing, I used to walk from my house to the university, and along the way I passed a storefront where a theatre cooperative operated. One day I went in, met the girls there, and they told me about what they were doing. That's how I ended up at the Cooperativa Arte Trans and started doing theatre with my colleagues. And it really was beautiful to discover that something I had loved since childhood could become something concrete in my life.
Monika: Cooperativa Arte Trans offered transgender and travesti people something that was still remarkably rare at the time: the possibility of being artists rather than simply being represented as victims or stereotypes. What do you remember about the early days of the cooperative?
Luly: The first thing I remember is Guillermo Bergandi, the director who proposed making the documentary Reina de Corazones, a trans documentary. What I value most about that project is that it tried to show our stories from a perspective that wasn't about victimhood, wasn't tear-jerking, and wasn't about pity.
The idea was to show our travesti and trans companions from another perspective: occupying different spaces, working in different fields, developing their abilities and building their own lives.
In a way, the documentary managed to break away from the narrative that had historically reduced us to prostitution, marginalization and other situations of vulnerability. It showed us from a different place, more human, everyday and real.
The idea was to show our travesti and trans companions from another perspective: occupying different spaces, working in different fields, developing their abilities and building their own lives.
In a way, the documentary managed to break away from the narrative that had historically reduced us to prostitution, marginalization and other situations of vulnerability. It showed us from a different place, more human, everyday and real.
END OF PART 1
All photos: courtesy of Luly Arias.
© 2026 - Monika Kowalska
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