SAY IT LOUD feat Iman Le Caire

Written by Tomik Dash

photo by Zak Krevitt

When it comes to stories about growing up, Iman Le Caire’s sounds like it could have been an origin story in a DC Comics big screen adaptation, where Iman was a martyr turned superhero. A child from Egypt, growing up in an atmosphere of adversity, Iman, then Ayman, had a strict Muslim family and also lived under the oppression of a patriarchal society that did not accept any form of femininity in boys. She had few people to turn to growing up. And after being repeatedly harassed and arrested by the police as a teenager, Iman decided to apply for a student visa in other countries. Although France had turned her down and crushed her dreams of ever being able to move anywhere else, to her surprise, she got accepted into NY Film Academy and she decided to change the trajectory of her life from that day forward.

Before moving, while out one day in Egypt she was alerted by a friend that the authorities were looking for her. In those days, when one gay person was arrested, many more would be rounded up without due process. Iman couldn’t take it anymore and scraped up as much money as she could to jump on a plane to New York and never look back. “I was so nervous on the plane, I thought the cops were going to find out where I was and come and take me before we took off. As soon as the plane was in the air I started crying so loud, everyone was asking me if I was okay.”

Fast forward to 2009 when Iman was working the front desk at David Barton Gym, where she met the man who would later become her husband, Jean-Manuel Pourquet. Jean-Manuel slipped Iman his phone number, but she wouldn’t work up the courage to call him for almost 6 months. When she did, they quickly became an item, and in the summer of 2010, Jean-Manuel brought her out to Fire Island to live with him during the summer while he ran his boutique, Gostoso, that was located on the harbor. “When I moved to the island I was very tortured. My soul was being tortured because I wanted to transition, but no one knew. I feel like there was a clash with myself and people because I did not accept myself. And it was hard for me to understand anyone because I wanted something else, but didn’t know what I wanted,” says Iman.

photo by Zak Krevitt

Jean-Manuel said, “Ayman marketed himself as a very masculine man that summer. People were crazy about him. He started working at the store, and very quickly after that, he started running the gym at the pool. Ayman became a personal trainer and the gym manager. He was a muscular guy. But then next summer, she came back as Iman.”

When I asked Iman about how people handled her transition she said that it was “Very tough. I was called names. People would stare at me up and down. And I wished they would just respect me like I respected them.” But there are some people in the community who have tremendous respect for her. She was notorious for the fun that ensued in her lounge behind Gostoso. And she has performed at the Pines Party for the past six years.

But recent events have led her on a different path. She has been very visible and active within the Black Lives Matter protests and hopes that all of these people taking to the streets will affect something. “I love my trans people. And they have been getting killed, one after [after another, after another] and I could not take it anymore. And then seeing George Floyd, and seeing the knee on his neck while the police officer has his hand in his pocket. If that doesn’t change your life, I don’t know what will! Learning about Layleen Palanco & Nina Pop... and all of these girls that have been slaughtered, you want us to just move on?!”

photo by Zak Krevitt

Iman has a memorial that she’s made in her home to honor the trans lives lost to violence (photo on cover). I asked when she was inspired to create it and she responded, “I think it was when I learned of Layleen Polanco. She was a baby you know. She looked like a baby and I saw the officers laughing at her. And it reminded me of when I got arrested and the officers were laughing at me. So people don’t understand why I get so angry, but I felt that trauma. I never chose to be an activist. It’s the situation that you’re in. If you have any blood left in your body there’s no choice. You either live or you die. You have to lift people up.”

That trauma has led her to advocate for change in places that are important to her too, including Fire Island. Iman started a change.org petition to get the Fire Island Pines Harbor renamed The Marsha P. Johnson Park. As of the end of June, that petition has amassed 1,500 signatures and she says that the Fire Island Pines Property Owners Association has appointed a task force to consider her request. When I asked her what else she hopes that the BLM movement will affect in the Pines, she said “Oh my God. I would like to see black businesses. Black owners. Black kids walking around. Black festivals. Black speakers to come and raise money for black causes. Refugee speakers.” She goes on to say, “People in Fire Island should know that history will judge them if they don’t make change. Because as the tape is rewinding, you can see the history, and it’s unbelievable. You have to be a part of the movement, or you look ridiculous.”

I doubt that the little kid in Egypt had any idea of the movement that she’d be a part of today. And unlike most superheroes who have to put on a mask to fight for justice, Iman had to take hers off to become the strong woman that she is today.