Remembering Eva-Lisa Bengtson

 

Born in Sweden in 1932, Eva-Lisa Bengtson understood from childhood that she was a girl, long before she had the language or the freedom to explain what that meant. In a society where being transgender was scarcely understood and where homosexuality itself could carry enormous stigma, she spent much of her life searching for places where she could simply be herself. In 1964, she finally began reaching out to others like her. An advertisement placed with Erika Sjöman brought more than eighty responses from Sweden and Finland, revealing a hidden community that had been waiting, often in isolation, to find one another. Eva-Lisa became a remarkable connector. Through Transvestia, which grew from correspondence into meetings and parties, she created one of Sweden’s earliest spaces where trans people could meet, exchange experiences and recognize themselves in one another. She later became involved in the wider queer and feminist movements, including Lesbisk Front and the building of Kvinnohuset in Stockholm. Yet her story was never a simple journey from exclusion to acceptance. She was sometimes welcomed and sometimes pushed aside, including by movements she had helped build. Her experiences reveal the complicated history of solidarity, belonging and boundaries within Sweden’s LGBTQ movement.

 

There was another side to Eva-Lisa that is just as important. She preserved. Photographs, letters, magazines, meeting records, invitations, membership cards and countless other fragments of queer life accumulated around her. She understood, perhaps more clearly than most, that people who are forgotten by official history have to preserve their own evidence of having been there. After Eva-Lisa’s death in 2018, artist and researcher Sam Hultin found themselves entrusted with this extraordinary archive. But Hultin did more than preserve it. Through Eva-Lisa’s Monument, the archive became a living encounter with a woman whose life had intersected with some of the most important chapters in Swedish trans, lesbian and feminist history. Hultin has transformed Eva-Lisa’s documents and memories into exhibitions, performances, city walks, films and now a book, allowing her story to return to the streets and communities where it once unfolded. What emerges is not only the portrait of a pioneering trans woman, but of someone who spent decades creating connections in a world that repeatedly told people like her that they were alone. In speaking with Sam Hultin, we can look beyond the dates and milestones to discover the woman behind the archive, the friendships and disappointments, the parties and protests, the moments of belonging and exclusion, and the extraordinary determination that made Eva-Lisa preserve a history that she could not know would one day be so valuable. And that is where I would like to begin.

Interview with Sarah Savage

 

More than a decade ago, viewers first encountered her as a 29-year-old woman from Jersey on Channel 4's My Transsexual Summer. She had only recently begun living full-time as herself, had never knowingly met another trans person, and was still searching for confidence, community and a sense of what her future might look like. What happened next was not supposed to be a career plan. Sarah Savage moved to Brighton, found other trans people and, in late 2012, joined Fox Fisher and others in asking a deceptively simple question: why shouldn't there be a Pride specifically for trans and non-binary people? In July 2013, that idea became Trans Pride Brighton. The organisers expected perhaps 50 people. Hundreds came. Today, Sarah is CEO of the organisation she helped create, which has grown from a grassroots protest into a major annual event, a political platform and a permanent community centre. She has become a prominent speaker and activist on trans rights, visibility and belonging. But perhaps the best way to understand Sarah's activism is to look at what she lost before she began building.

 

Growing up in the insular community of Jersey, she knew little about transgender lives. After transitioning, she has spoken openly about her family disowning her and described transition as being "about loss," followed by years of finding a new family and learning what it meant to belong. Eventually, Trans Pride became more than an organisation she helped run. It became her home. That may explain why Sarah sees visibility not as an abstract political concept but as something deeply personal. A crowd of thousands matters, but so does the person who approaches her at Trans Pride in tears because it is the first time they have ever gone outside dressed as themselves. For Sarah, creating those moments is the point. There is another unexpected chapter to her story. The woman who once did not think of herself as particularly creative became a children's author. With Fox Fisher, she created Are You a Boy or Are You a Girl?, followed by She's My Dad! and He's My Mom!, bringing questions of gender, transition, family and identity into children's literature. It is a natural extension of her activism: if Trans Pride creates a place where people can be visible, her books help make that visibility understandable to the next generation.

Interview with Lilit Martirosyan

 

Lilit Martirosyan is not simply someone who became an activist; she is someone who, very early in life, discovered that survival itself could become a political act. She has spoken about knowing she was a girl from childhood, about leaving her village at 13 after discrimination made home feel unsafe, and about eventually finding her way into Armenia’s civil-society movement. She later founded Right Side, the country’s first community-based organization created by and for transgender people and sex workers. Then, on April 5, 2019, she walked into Armenia’s National Assembly and did something no transgender person in the country had done before: she stood at the parliamentary podium and described, in brutally direct terms, what life could mean for a transgender Armenian. She deliberately presented herself not merely as Lilit, but as a collective figure carrying the experiences of people who had been assaulted, impoverished, excluded and left without protection. The speech made history and triggered an extraordinary backlash, including threats against her life.

 

What followed is revealing about the particular kind of activist Martirosyan became. She did not leave Armenia permanently, despite having to flee temporarily with her family after the threats. She returned because, as she explained, she did not want to become a refugee elsewhere while the people she represented remained in Armenia. Her activism has therefore been remarkably practical: changing the procedure for legal name changes, building community structures, fighting discrimination and hate crimes, and creating spaces where people could receive legal, psychological and social support. In 2020, the Dutch government awarded her the Human Rights Tulip, recognizing both her persistence in the face of death threats and her commitment to peaceful change. The prize was not merely symbolic: it gave her the means to expand the infrastructure of the movement she had spent years building.

Interview with Luly Arias

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. 

Interview with Petra Hristova

Petra Hristova is a Bulgarian transgender woman, writer and activist whose personal struggle for legal recognition became one of the most significant transgender rights cases in Bulgaria. Born in 1998, she grew up in northern Bulgaria, moving between Veliko Tarnovo, Lyaskovets, Kozarevets and Gorna Oryahovitsa. Her childhood was marked by isolation and bullying, including physical violence, and she has spoken publicly about growing up without the freedom and security that many children take for granted. At the age of twelve, Petra came across an interview with a Bulgarian transgender woman living abroad. It was a turning point. At a time when little information about transgender identities was available in Bulgarian, she began researching the subject herself, often relying on English-language sources to understand feelings she had struggled to name. Education became an important part of Petra's life. She earned a Bachelor's degree in Applied Linguistics, studying English and Korean, followed by a Master's degree in English Philology. She also obtained a professional qualification in organisational psychology. Later, she enrolled in studies in midwifery, inspired by the idea of helping bring new life into the world. Petra began her medical transition after her first year at university and started hormone therapy in September 2015. Finding appropriate medical care proved difficult, as she encountered specialists who lacked experience with, or were unwilling to treat, transgender patients. In January 2022, she underwent gender-affirming surgery at a private clinic in Greece. 

Interview with Kate Hutchinson

Some people wait their whole lives for a defining moment, and some people, like Kate Hutchinson, seem to walk straight into it carrying a 38-foot trans flag and a whole community’s courage on their shoulders. When the Pride Cymru parade in Cardiff was brought to a halt by a handful of anti-trans protesters, Kate did not shout at them, confront them, or give them what they wanted. Instead, she did something far more powerful. She turned to the crowd, trusted her instincts, and invited an entire city to speak up for trans lives. And Cardiff answered. Kate’s story did not begin on that sun-drenched August day in 2022. It began decades earlier, in a school playground in the 1970s, with a child who knew who she was but learned very early that the world could be cruel to difference. It runs through coming out in the 1990s, being pushed back into the closet by violence and fear, and then, years later, stepping back into the light when support, representation, and self-belief finally aligned. 

 

Today, Kate is many things at once: a trans woman living joyfully and authentically, an educator, an activist, a trustee of Pride Cymru and Schools OUT UK, which brought LGBT+ History Month to the UK, a facilitator, a trainer, a rock musician, and, whether she asked for the title or not, a quiet heroine to a lot of people. This interview is not about soundbites or slogans. It is about lived experience, resilience, laughter in between the heavy moments, and what it really means to keep showing up for your community, even when it would be easier not to.