Our visibility in 1998 felt like a battlefield, and that sense endures today. The aim was to normalize the image of transgender women. Since the 1980s, there was a push to move away from stereotypes that reduced them to showgirls, hairdressers, or mere curiosities. The struggle to change the masculine bias in journalism was uphill, but progress arrived with victories like Veal International in Tel Aviv in 1972, proving that talent belongs to everyone and that aspirations do not require imitation.
Marina Sáenz became Spain’s first openly trans professor. At 53, she teaches at the University of Valladolid. That night held special meaning: there was no longer a need to hide to feel alive. Sharon Cohen’s courageous public stance in Birmingham inspired a pledge to love, loyalty, and dignity. It marked a turning point as she committed herself to visibility and advocacy for a quarter of a century.
Veal Turkey emerged as the country’s first and only transgender artist to compete in Eurovision, carrying a platform built with a diva’s voice and a Hebrew homage to historical greats. She scored an impressive 172 points across a Europe that was still learning to embrace sexual diversity. The journey, however, met resistance: threats from Israel’s extreme factions and personal fears from childhood cast shadows, yet she identified as female at 13 and claimed first place at 18, becoming a pioneering figure in her country.
Her rise continued as producer Offer Nissim noticed her talent and steered her toward stardom. After Veal International in 1993 and umpatampa in 1994, she funded her own sex reassignment surgery. She soon released maganon in 1995, an album briefly censored by Egypt for challenging youth norms. In the midst of this artistic upheaval, the IBA (Israeli Broadcasting Corporation) selected her to represent Israel in Eurovision.
Daniela Requena recalls being seven years old when she first saw the performance. She felt a spark that transformed fear into a dream, learning that success could come to someone who is transgender. The information she absorbed through her teens shaped her path, influencing how she approached her own transition. This context helps explain why she slowed the transition to some extent, a choice rooted in personal growth and responsibility.
Although Dana’s impact was positive, it did not erase the harsher realities of that era. The 1990s did not yet offer broad natural acceptance, and rights were still hard-won. Israel, though deeply focused on national defense, began to defend this evolving ideal by opening up to minority voices. Ten years earlier, diverse identities started stepping out from the shadows, and religious and secular communities began to find common ground in supporting the LGTBI community.
As scholars like José Luis Panea noted in Identity, spectacle and representation, the region portrayed openness, tolerance, and multiculturalism to the world but sometimes fell short in delivering a consistent local narrative. Curiously, there was no UK commentator assigned to back Dana’s candidacy, and her victory provoked intense reactions from conservatives and sparked widespread social dialogue.
In the Southwest Asia scene, DivaHE rose to number one in Spain, becoming a symbol for the LGTBI community and earning a place on MTV and Top of the Pops, signaling a broader cultural embrace. Some outlets, however, labeled the success with sensationalism that reflected sensationalist patterns rather than substantial progress.
Transphobic discussion on Television
Roberta Marrero’s televised moment on a popular talk show became a flashpoint. The interview produced a hostile, humiliating exchange with a vocally anti-trans host. While it exposed the courage of trans artists to appear publicly, it also underscored that contempt for trans people does not vanish overnight.
Having a media reference point, though contentious, mattered. Competing before hundreds of millions of viewers amplified visibility, yet it invited scrutiny. Dana’s interpretation of femininity, drawing on mythic icons such as Cleopatra, Aphrodite, and Victoria, offered a universal message: women are defined not only by appearance but by freedom. “Diva is an angel when she cries. When she laughs, she is a demon. She is pure beauty and love,” the performer sang.
“The break from stereotypes allowed us to celebrate progress that was once forbidden,” one activist observed. The act of entering the public sphere helped to end criminalization and created space for many to come forward. Mar Cambrollé, a longtime advocate for a Comprehensive Transgender Law in Andalusia, became a beacon for others seeking inclusion.
In Israel, the legal landscape did not shift dramatically, but Tel Aviv cemented Gay Pride as the heart of LGTBI life in the Middle East. The event’s scale grew—from about 2,000 participants in 1998 to roughly 250,000 in recent years. While same‑sex marriage was not yet legalized, couples who wed abroad since 2006 could have their unions recognized domestically.
A Different Woman Beyond La Veneno
Dana’s career spans eight albums and 17 singles, a testament to trans empowerment across the globe. Her desire to return to Eurovision persisted, culminating in a performance that did not reach the Düsseldorf final in 2011 but nonetheless affirmed the trans banner on a major stage.
Her entry stirred both anticipation and controversy. Dana’s screen presence surprised friends and foes alike, especially amid the drama surrounding La Veneno. The choice to participate in the festival was bold; victory felt imaginable even then. People formed strong opinions about the representation of trans artists, yet many recognized the significance of visibility.
Judith Juanhuix, a physicist deeply engaged in equality initiatives, reflected that Dana’s moment might not have happened without the chance to be seen by audiences far from home. In her view, the experience underscored that visibility could coexist with authenticity, and the world could learn from it.
In 2023, Dana continues to use music as armor in her enduring pursuit of equality. The song Cockroacha stands as a playful act of defiance. “Finding a talented role model at age 14 seemed impossible, yet it appeared suddenly,” said Aitzole Araneta, head of Equality initiatives in San Sebastián.
Her ongoing work remains a pledge: to pursue progress with honesty and without pretense. The belief endures that the first steps toward a more open world were not about marketing tactics but about real visibility from someone who could serve as a beacon across continents. The message stays clear: divas belong to the world, and they deserve to be seen, heard, and celebrated.