There Ain't Nothing Sweet About Sweet Auburn

Black transgender women in the United States face disproportionate levels of violence, discrimination, incarceration, and limited access to healthcare and housing. CC's story reflects the reality many continue to live today. In recent years, and particularly since the political climate under Trump, conditions have become increasingly hostile, with growing attacks on trans rights and visibility. Her life speaks to both resilience and vulnerability, and to a world that still struggles to make space for those who do not fit within its norms.

In 2017, in the shabby streets of Sweet Auburn, Atlanta, I met CC. She asked me to photograph her, and I said yes.

Then she disappeared.

Years later, her voice found me again, messages sent from inside a men's prison: videos, letters, fragments of her days, small proofs of a life continuing out of sight. From a distance, I watched her try to survive a place built to erase her.

When she was released in 2023, I went back to keep my promise and see her again.

She was living on her mother's couch, trying to rebuild something fragile. We moved through the city together, eating, shopping, laughing, while I photographed her. At times, without warning, something in her would fall quiet.

I didn't always know how to be there. I only knew I didn't want to look away.

A week after I left, she relapsed. Two weeks later, she died.

I returned once more for her funeral. She was buried as a man.

I know I will never forget her, and I am grateful, and proud, to have known her.

RIP my dear and brave CC.