How Vera Drew, Louise Weard and More Trans and Nonbinary Filmmakers Are Taking Control of Their Stories Outside the Studio System: ‘We’re Creating a New Industry’

The film industry has historically neglected and excluded trans creatives at every stage, from financing to distribution. GLAAD’s report “Where We Are in Film” highlights this glaring oversight, noting zero representation for trans characters in the top 10 US distributors’ 2025 releases. A major contributor to this lack of representation is the scarcity of trans directors making big-budget movies.

Vera Drew, Louise Weard, and Jane Schoenbrun have emerged as key figures in a new generation of trans filmmakers, driven by their perseverance and talent. What’s more striking, however, is how these artists have collectively created an ecosystem that encourages collaboration and mutual support outside the traditional studio system. At festivals like Outfest and Frameline, queer audiences find a haven for discovering innovative, genre-bending films that resonate with them on a deeper level.

Drew’s “The People’s Joker” and Weard’s “Castration Movie” anthology exemplify this DIY ethos in action. By creating spaces for trans filmmakers to connect, share their experiences, and inspire one another, these artists have effectively bypassed the industry’s gatekeepers. This movement focuses on representation within the trans community itself, with efforts to show the nuances of trans experiences both within and outside the mainstream.

The recent release of Schoenbrun’s “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” marks a significant milestone in this trajectory, with a budget exceeding $10 million. As one of the few trans filmmakers making movies at this scale, Schoenbrun acknowledges both pride and guilt in their achievement. This dichotomy highlights the larger tension within the industry: can these artists truly succeed without sacrificing their values or becoming complicit in the system’s homogeneity?

The lack of representation for trans directors of color is particularly egregious, given the wealth of talent waiting to be tapped. Executives must step up not only to increase diversity but also to maintain relevance with increasingly queer audiences. Initiatives like Schoenbrun’s mentorship program offer a potential solution, inviting emerging directors and writers to shadow on set and fostering a sense of community and collaboration.

This approach has already yielded impressive results, as seen in Eva Victor’s award-winning indie breakout “Sorry, Baby.” By prioritizing collaboration over competition and authenticity over marketability, trans filmmakers can create an environment where they are not only represented but also empowered to take control of their own narratives. These artists have created an ecosystem that thrives outside the traditional studio system.

The rise of trans filmmakers like Drew, Weard, and Schoenbrun offers a powerful reminder that true change is often driven by unseen forces. As the industry continues to struggle with issues of representation and inclusion, these artists serve as a testament to what can be achieved when creatives are given the space to thrive. The question remains: will this momentum continue, or will it falter as the industry’s gatekeepers inevitably try to co-opt and homogenize these talented voices? One thing is certain – the future of filmmaking will be shaped by those who refuse to be silenced, erased, or ignored.