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Meet the first trans musher in the Iditarod race

Trans musher Apayauq
Image by Zeppelin Zeerip

Relive Apayauq's epic journey across the tundra.

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When musher Apayauq competed in the 2022 Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race through Alaska (the current Iditarod is happening now), it was an epic journey both physical and emotional. Apayauq had recently come out, becoming the first and only openly trans person to compete in the race; she proudly and bravely flew a trans flag from her sled. Apayauq’s breathtaking quest, both across the frozen tundra and through ignorance and self-doubt, is chronicled in the short doc, Apayauq, directed by award-winning filmmaker Zeppelin Zeerip and executive produced by punk rocker Laura Jane Grace and Princess Daazhraii Johnson.

“I wanted to make something for my four-year-old self, who said she’d be a girl when she grew up and nobody believed her,” says Apayauq, who shared more thoughts on her achievement and identity.

In the film, you spoke about your name being gender-neutral. How else was gender and sexuality viewed by your Indigenous community?
Despite Inupiaq linguistic gender neutrality, many of my relatives in Kaktovik are Trump-supporting conservatives. While I was working there as a truck driver it was really hard to deal with being around people who clearly despise me.

Someone in the village posted a gross transphobic joke on Facebook that was obviously at my expense. It really sucked to see who had liked it, commented other transphobic stuff, and laugh-reacted to it. Though it got some pushback from some relatives, I also got a couple of supportive messages from a couple of people, which was nice.

It pains me to tell of this — I wish I didn’t have to say that some relatives hate me. I don’t see any point sugarcoating it, it really fucking hurts. But I also acknowledge that Christian conservatism and Western gender roles were imposed on our people by missionaries and colonization. This is not hate that comes from our culture.

You proudly flew the trans flag during your race. How were you received by the mushing community and the larger Alaskan community?
I moved from Kaktovik in spring 2023, and after living in Anchorage for a while I decided to move back to Trondheim, Norway. I have a lot of great friends in the queer activism scene, and I’m living with my girlfriend.

Norway has quite terrible trans health care, which may come as a surprise. I delayed medical transition until returning to Alaska in 2021, due to how difficult [hormone replacement therapy] is to get in Norway. I would still be on a waiting list by the time I had started. So we have work to do in Norway as well.

Since mushing is such a solitary sport, I haven’t talked much with mushers since coming out. When I was training for Iditarod 2022 I was training full time. In 2017, when I ran qualifying races, those were 200 to 440 miles, which would usually run over a weekend and we would have some time before and after to socialize. That was before I came out though. I have some mushers I keep in touch with who are very accepting and nice. And no one in the mushing community has been rude or transphobic to me in person.

When I was living in Anchorage, I had some close friends who were very supportive. And I would often go to the queer club in town on the weekends, which was fun. I really enjoyed getting to know the drag performers and the staff. Alaska is generally not great for trans people though. [Governor] Dunleavy’s administration tried to pass HB109, which was a “don’t say gay or trans” bill. I had a chance to speak against this bill since the hearing was in Juneau the day before the Alaska premiere of the documentary, which we had arranged to be on Trans Day of Visibility. Many people have told me they appreciated my testimony, which was really touching.

Have you found people more supportive of your trans identity since coming out?
I haven’t noticed any change in acceptance since coming out, the supportive ones have been supportive since I came out. Those who didn’t, I don’t really think about. They probably unfriended me when I came out and I haven’t missed them.

Where does your mind go when you’re mushing for days on end?
When I would be mushing, I would spend a lot of time thinking about my gender, especially in 2017 and 2019. That was sort of when I realized I wasn’t cis. Other than that I would think about interpersonal relationships, self reflect, and remind myself of embarrassing things I have said or done. I would also listen to audiobooks and music.

Will you continue to mush?
All our dogs are retired from racing now, and I don’t have plans to start building a team in the immediate future…. But I won’t say that I’m done with mushing.

Watch Apayauq below.

Apayauq | L.A. Times Short Docsyoutu.be

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Neal Broverman

Neal Broverman is the Editorial Director, Print of Pride Media, publishers of The Advocate, Out, Out Traveler, and Plus, spending more than 20 years in journalism. He indulges his interest in transportation and urban planning with regular contributions to Los Angeles magazine, and his work has also appeared in the Los Angeles Times and USA Today. He lives in the City of Angels with his husband, children, and their chiweenie.
Neal Broverman is the Editorial Director, Print of Pride Media, publishers of The Advocate, Out, Out Traveler, and Plus, spending more than 20 years in journalism. He indulges his interest in transportation and urban planning with regular contributions to Los Angeles magazine, and his work has also appeared in the Los Angeles Times and USA Today. He lives in the City of Angels with his husband, children, and their chiweenie.