KBIA News

Alphabet Soup

What radical courage does it take to love in the face of hate? Through portraiture and personal narratives highlighting joy, belonging, found family and meaningful romantic and platonic relationships, KBIA’s Alphabet Soup challenges the notion that Missouri’s LGBTQ+ community is a monolith.Tucked away within the amalgamation of letters that makes up the LGBTQ+ community and the complex identities each represents is joy: rebellious, resistant, radiant. If you have a story you would like to share, visit https://tinyurl.com/LGBTQJoy or contact news@kbia.org.Created by Bailey Stover.

Cynthia Martin: Finding euphoria in 'just getting to be every day.'

KBIA | By Reporter & Photographer: Bailey Stover, Producer: Rebecca Smith, Photo Editor: Nick Sheaffer

Published January 24, 2025 at 2:00 PM CST

Cynthia Martin stands with Bandit, one of her two Great Pyrenees, on Monday, Dec. 16, 2024, outside her home in Iberia, Mo. “One of the first things I learned about coming out and seeing other gay people is they love each other. You can tell they love each other, and they are attracted to each other, and there's nothing wrong with that. I mean, there's just nothing wrong with it,” Martin said. “Love is love. Love is truly love, and people love each other, no matter their gender, their sex, whatever. Love is love.”

Cynthia Martin lives in Iberia, Missouri. She’s better known in the roller derby community as “Hulkstress.”

She’s a transgender woman that came out later in life – as she approached 40, and says transitioning felt like finally “coming up for air” even though it can be tough at times in a small, rural community.

Alphabet Soup shares LGBTQ+ Missourians’ stories through portraiture and personal narratives.

Cynthia Martin: I don't know, I have found something like a euphoria, you know?

I really liked it when people were really enjoyed my drag performance, even though they wasn't much.

Like that acceptance – level of acceptance, you know, they are loving what you're doing and loving what you're putting out there, and you feel that full acceptance that they really do kind of love you, you know?

And then, you know, roller derby brings some of that to me too, you know, I thought it was pretty amazing that a trans woman skated up Pine Street [in Rolla, Missouri] in a green costume and they're chanting her derby name for blocks, you know?

That was pretty awesome. I mean, they chanted some of the other skaters too, but to be a trans woman, and them folks celebrating you, and that's pretty euphoric sometimes.

A collection of Cynthia Martin’s roller derby-related items—including her homemade skates, a helmet with her pronouns and her “Hulkstress” costume—sit atop a blue pickup truck Martin has owned since she was 13 years old on Monday, Dec. 16, 2024, outside her home in Iberia, Mo. “When somebody hits me, it doesn't hurt,” Martin said of when she’s playing roller derby. “I know that sounds big headed, but it doesn't really hurt. You know the cartoon deals? I've had a couple people that prided themselves on being really heavy hitters. But you know the cartoons where they hit something and they vibrate? People have hit me, and I've watched their bodies vibrate like they had ran into a wall. And I just look over at them and like, ‘Are you OK?’ And I feel really bad because that's like a natural ability, you know? I just have that. It's not something that I refined or anything.”

So, it's – it has its ups and downs, you know?

I get to be, you know, it at least got to the point – and that was one of my goals when I set out, was – you know, I figured the area would be, I figured I'd have my house burnt down and ran out of town, you know?

But, you know, if they just accept me on the level of, ‘Well, that's just who they are,” you know, “they're really not a bad person. They don't really do anything to me,” and they leave me alone, I leave them alone, or I've never had a bad dealing with them, or whatever.

And, you know, I thought if I reached that, which I kind of did for the most part, you know – so, there's a little bit of joy in that.

And then the fact that you just get to be, you know? I could have been eradicated. I could have been beat up, you know?

"If they just accept me on the level of, ‘Well, that's just who they are,” you know, “they're really not a bad person. They don't really do anything to me,” and they leave me alone."

I don't worry much, about one-on-one stuff, but, I mean, if you get a group, you could be in some serious trouble, or if they have weapons and you don't, you know – hopefully none of that ever comes to be. And go from there, I guess.

But just getting to be every day, I mean, you know, I don't get to always present as feminine, but you know, least I know I can in the future.

Where one time is just like, “Oh no, I'm just never going to be able to do this.”

And then, you know, at least, I get to go roller derby or go out with some friends. I got a lot of friends from roller derby that I can hang out with and stuff.