“I am a fully-fledged trans woman, even though I haven’t undergone any physical alterations to my body. I am an individual in my own queer form,” says drag artist Smokee Kween
Angie, what does being a woman mean to you?
I still have this sense deep down that I’m a trans woman – that’s my starting point, and that’s how I present myself to the outside world and in society. But for me, femininity is – perhaps a bit stereotypically – linked to the fact that I’ve always been gentle, that I’ve always cooked, and that I was a housewife for a while. Those are the ‘feminine’ things for me.
What’s your view on the current wave of hatred directed specifically at trans people?
That wave is mainly coming from America and it’s a highly politicised issue. I believe that when I talk to someone face to face, they always realise in the end that there’s nothing to be afraid of. But honestly, it still upsets me. There are still people in society who’ll just shout some abuse at me out of the blue. When there was a protest recently against a proposed law that would have tightened the rules for trans people, I cried for three days. It was only a proposal, but even so – the idea that I’d have to use men’s toilets, where I’d be at risk, strikes me as utterly bizarre.
Have you personally experienced any hate?
Twice, recently. Once I was getting changed in the loo – I was half undressed – and someone complained about me. In the end, the security staff and the staff handled it brilliantly – they explained that I was simply getting changed, and that was that. Otherwise, I sometimes hear comments in public toilets in Prague, but I think it’s usually from tourists rather than locals – you’ll find those ‘typical Czechs’ everywhere, both here and amongst tourists.
There’s a debate about what it actually means to be a woman. Do you see a difference between the terms ‘woman’ and ‘trans woman’, and is it important for you to distinguish between them?
I think it depends a lot on what’s socially acceptable at the moment. Some people – let’s call them ultra-activists – claim that trans women are simply women, full stop. I understand that idea and sympathise with it – but I don’t think it’s the best slogan for normalising this as a society. I don’t tell people myself that I’m ‘just’ a woman, because I know it matters to some people. I’d always rather listen to what the other person means by it, but I won’t change my mind because of it. For me, I see femininity more as an energy than as a fixed category – I don’t want to believe entirely in labels, even though I understand why they exist and why they’ll be around for a long time yet.
Do you have any masculine traits that you consciously want to hold on to?
Definitely. I’m going through a phase right now where I’m trying to reclaim my masculinity – I’ve been living as a woman for some time now and didn’t experience a typical ‘boyhood’. I think we should all sort out our ‘daddy’ and ‘mummy’ issues, rather than worrying about whether someone is a boy or a girl. In practical terms, this means that these days I’m perhaps more of a ‘top’ (the active role in sex – ed.), I speak my mind more loudly, I don’t let myself be interrupted – simply a certain assertiveness and drive, which I see as part of who I am, not as something I need to separate from my identity.
So you’re not trying to fit in completely with cis women?
No, and to be honest, I’ve never wanted to. I’m queer and I chose this path precisely because I don’t fit into society. I’ve got no reason to suddenly start trying to be like everyone else when, in reality, I don’t want to. I want to be the individual that I am.
As far as I know, you’ve undergone only minimal, if any, physical modifications. Do you still feel like a fully-fledged trans woman?
Yes. I think this is one of the great paths to take, because it allows you to get to know yourself better, rather than getting caught up in the most difficult period of your life. It’s a journey of self-discovery – going through social transition, simply saying to yourself ‘I’m a woman’ and giving it a go. I know that for some people this isn’t an option and that the quick route is the right one for them. And there are age differences too – I understand that a woman in her sixties wants to have it all done within a year. But I know I’ll be beautiful, and I think I’ll deal with any adjustments perhaps around the age of forty, when things aren’t quite the way I want them to be.
In everyday conversation, do you say straight away that you’re a woman, or a trans woman?
In a pub conversation with the general heterosexual public, I’m more likely to use the term ‘trans woman’ so that nobody feels they’ve been left out of the loop. The terminology we use is important. It’s not as though I’d blurt it out to someone on a first date – that would be like telling them my psychological diagnosis straight away. But if I want to talk openly with someone, sooner or later people will ask about it anyway, and I’ll tell them. What’s more, in the Czech Republic, I think that if I didn’t say anything, they’d ask why I’d kept it a secret, and that would lead to unnecessary misunderstandings.
What’s your view on the idea that our physicality is something given to us – perhaps by God – and that we shouldn’t interfere with our bodies?
I see my transition as a very spiritual journey – it stems partly from the concept of Two-Spirit people; I’m even building my own little ‘Smokee altar’ at home at the moment. I think there’s a bit of divinity in all of us, whether we call it God, the Source or the Universe, and that it’s through this awareness that we find self-love. As for cosmetic or physical modifications, I think that’s up to each individual – some people really do experience body dysphoria, whilst others might be able to work through it with therapy. I myself, for example, gave a good telling-off to a younger trans girl who’d only been on hormones for a year and suddenly wanted to have children, without fully understanding everything involved in changing her sex hormones. A few days later, she got in touch to say I’d been right – she’d stopped taking the hormones, cut her hair short and started experimenting and thinking things through more, rather than rushing ahead.
You mentioned that for many trans women, the trigger for cosmetic procedures tends to be a fear of ageing rather than body dysphoria itself.
Exactly. I’ve noticed this particularly among older trans women, who are often very ‘groomed’. I don’t hold it against them. But it’s more a case of people telling themselves, ‘if I fix this and that, I’ll feel better’, rather than it being about dysphoria caused by specific physical features. The American drag queen and trans woman Bosco described it beautifully: these days, you can easily get new breasts, for example, but by the time you’re fifty, you’ll need to have them redone anyway. Ultimately, we’re all constantly ‘tweaking’ and adjusting ourselves in one way or another.
Do you have any personal experience with hormone therapy?
Yes, I took hormones for two months without medical supervision. For a while, it left my head feeling a bit chaotic, but I usually feel that way anyway. Honestly, it reminded me of taking antidepressants or mood stabilisers – it was calming. I stopped mainly because I couldn’t manage it financially or from an endocrinological point of view; otherwise, I’d probably have carried on. I also know of girls who take ordinary contraceptive pills because they contain oestrogen, or who even make their own preparations at home. There are plenty of options, and I think it’s up to each individual to choose which one – the main thing is to be properly informed and not to ‘buy a pig in a poke’, in other words, to know exactly what to expect from the path you choose.
Drag is a form of art; Angelika makes all her own costumesPhoto: Angelika / se svolením
Some people say there are too many trans people these days. Do you feel the same way?
The way I see it is that if we didn’t keep putting so many words and labels on it – in other words, if it weren’t so politicised – nobody would care so much about it. Thanks to the fact that we now have terms and terminology for these things, people are better able to describe and understand themselves. I don’t think there are more of them than before; it’s just more visible now – people are more open and are trying things they used to keep secret. As far as I’m concerned, that’s not a bad thing at all. I’m quite in favour of freedom and of everyone doing what they want, at their own risk.
Among your partners are also heterosexual men who are attracted to femininity combined with a penis. How do you explain that?
That’s called a fetish, and such men are referred to as ‘chasers’ – they’re attracted to trans women, or possibly trans men. If we delve deeper into this – and that’s exactly what I’m writing a book about right now – you’ll find that it’s often more varied than it seems. Quite often, it’s a childhood friend with whom you tried something once, and he then continues to seek out that feeling. What’s interesting is that, at the same time, they see me as a man – there’s a certain ‘brotherhood’ at play there – but they’re attracted to a purely feminine energy. It allows them to remain heterosexual in their own eyes, whilst still enjoying a male body. What’s more, with men like that, I’m usually looking for a romantic fling rather than a relationship, and I think that applies to a lot of trans women – nobody wants them at home, but rather as a ‘side fling’. I take it as a fact I’ve come to terms with. I’m not actively looking for love myself at the moment; I’d rather just enjoy a nice evening with someone.
You mentioned that Daniela Špinar has a similar approach to relationships…
Yes, she says that if she wanted to, she could easily have three dates in one evening, but that nobody would go out in public with her, for example for dinner. I often handle things in a similar way these days and make it a condition right from the first date – either the person is willing to be seen with me in public, or it stays strictly private. But once a relationship – even a romantic one – has lasted for some time, people eventually realise that I’m just a person too, not an object, and they’re then happy to break these rules as well.
As well as heterosexual men, you also socialise with gay men. What do you think attracts them to trans women?
There’s a lot of a sibling-like, sisterly dynamic to it, and less pressure – because whatever happens doesn’t have to be labelled or publicly acknowledged. Gay men go into it thinking they’ll just give it a go, and if it doesn’t work out, it’s not really a problem. The stress just falls away. They’re also interested in the fact that there are women who can take the lead. And a lot of these encounters then become a safe space where they discuss things with me that they’re otherwise afraid to talk about – such as how to even start a conversation with someone about wanting to be the bottom during sex. For many gay men under thirty, it’s still a taboo.
You’re a top yourself, aren’t you?
I’m versatile; I’m happy to play both roles. I always tell the lads that whilst they can think of me as a man in their heads, they also have to see me as sufficiently feminine – they have to touch me as if I were a woman. For it to actually come to me being the top, I have to feel confident enough about it myself. I think some of these men also long for something I’d call romance or maternal care – for dinner, for a slower and gentler approach, which they miss in this fast-paced, no-strings-attached world. And because both they and I have gone through similar life experiences, we easily find common ground there.
Some gay men, on the other hand, take a rather aggressive stance against the trans community. How do you explain that?
Honestly, it really annoys me. I see it as a fear of their own femininity, a kind of self-loathing. I have a brother myself who’s spent his whole life unable to decide whether he’s bisexual or straight, and he’s constantly swinging back and forth between the two. Whenever he reverts to that more ‘masculine’ identity, he starts hating me again – probably because I live freely and don’t define myself in any way, whilst he’s constantly limiting himself in some way. I think a lot of people operate like this: they stick rigidly to their own boxes and then look suspiciously at those who dare to step outside them.
Angelika during the filming of a ‘secret’ projectPhoto: Angelika / se svolením
You do drag. What does drag mean to you as a trans woman?
Drag is what I do, and being trans is who I am. Drag came first for me, and it was actually through drag that I gradually realised I would be a woman. At first I was very binary in the sense that, outwardly, I said I didn’t care whether people referred to me using masculine or feminine pronouns, but deep down I did care. I felt I needed something different, I just didn’t know what yet. Looking back, I can see that when people started referring to me using feminine pronouns, it really calmed me down, even though I didn’t put a name to it at the time.
When did that turning point come, when you said to yourself: ‘This is me’?
At eighteen. All my life I’d been told that I’d understand once I was an adult, and on my eighteenth birthday, it finally ‘clicked’ for me. It had a lot to do with the fact that I had a fiancé at the time who still loved me even after I’d confided in him first. In the end, he did leave me for another man, but the fact that someone accepted me at that moment helped me a great deal. Drag had already been part of my life for about five years by then – I started when I was around fourteen or fifteen, going to clubs, which I managed to get into partly because my dad worked there as a security guard. My parents were quite relaxed about it back then; these days we sometimes disagree a bit, mostly because I have my own, openly expressed views.
Does your approach to drag differ from that of gay drag queens?
I even took breaks from drag because of this, as I was going through a phase where I was trying to look as much like a cis woman as possible – I had laser hair removal, lowered my voice, and wore minimal make-up so that no one would ‘expose’ me. Looking back, I see it a bit as pretending. Years later, I’ve resolved this by making my drag as ‘blatantly trans’ as possible – I’ve brought to the fore what’s visible about me and what makes me who I am. Let the lads tell me that green hair isn’t nice, for example, and I’ll tell them I’m not doing it for them, but for myself. Recently, I’ve also started trying my hand at dragking and am developing a new masculine character for this type of performance. Ultimately, I see drag as a costume and a form of acting that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with my personal identity – my identity as a trans woman is set in stone, no matter what drag look I’m wearing.
We’ve recently been working together on a ‘secret project’. Is there anything you’d like to reveal to people about it?
I can’t reveal any details just yet, but there’s definitely something to look forward to, and above all I’d like to encourage people not to miss this project, because it’s about self-expression and finding the inner courage to overcome the fear of showing one’s true self. A whole team of brilliant people, who are true to themselves, worked on it, and I think we’ve done a fantastic job. I’m really looking forward to the result myself, and I believe it will strike a chord not only in the Czech Republic but also around the world.
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Who is Smokee Kween
Angelika, known by her stage name Smokee Kween, is the self-proclaimed ‘celebrity’ of the Czech drag scene. As well as drag, she also creates wigs and make-up (including for PINKBUS), models, acts, sings and performs as a showgirl, and designs and sews most of her costumes herself. Her repertoire also includes a fire show – she excels particularly at fire-breathing.
She has been in front of the camera since the age of fifteen – whether as a model, a contestant on the singing competition Superstar (2021) and the reality show Prostřeno! (2026), or as an actress in the series Dvojka na zabití and the film Nepela. She has also appeared in the music videos for the songs ‘Drag Queen’ (Katarazia), ‘End’ (Heeds) and ‘Piqi Miqi’ (Run While You Can).
