Dominique Silver in Kokomo City (Magnolia Pictures)

At one time, D. Smith garnered some success in the music industry, producing, and writing music for artists such as Lil Wayne, but was soon sidelined as a transgender woman. Switching gears, D. Smith has convened all her talents in directing, producing, shooting, and composing music for her vibrant debut documentary Kokomo City.

With authenticity and a dash of the irreverent, the film primarily gathers testimonies from four Black trans sex workers from Atlanta and New York: Daniella Carter, Dominique Silver, Liyah Mitchell, and Koko Da Doll, who was tragically murdered earlier this year and to whom this documentary is dedicated to. The potential risks and dangers of their occupation are immediately apparent in the opening sequence when Liyah, decked in a cropped Flashdance T-shirt, describes one of her scariest moments in sex work when a man aimed a gun at her. Disarmingly, this story is reenacted with music video flashiness and cartoonish sound effects (record scratches). Randy Crawford’s “Street Life” then explodes over the main titles—an opening of uplift and energy. Smith’s richly layered black-and-white photography infuses a vividness in the visuals and in the beauty of the interviewees.

The women seem extremely relaxed and comfortable in front of Smith and her camera, offering up painful, funny, and intimate narratives. Many times, we see them less as talking heads and more as sisters, casually lying in bed or on a couch, as if they are directly speaking to us in the same room. Their stories are varied and broad and bawdy. Dominique tells of how violence often occurs after a sexual act, when shame sets in and men suddenly feel their “masculinity is threatened.” Daniella is particularly passionate and expressive about identity, class, generational and racial divisions. The film also opens perspectives by interviewing men, including seasoned music producer Michael Carlos Jones, aka “LØ,” who openly embrace their love for trans women.

This year’s documentary The Stroll is a good companion piece. It surveys sex workers’ tales from Manhattan’s meatpacking district pre-gentrification. It is a strong portrait of a distinct, hidden history, while Smith’s film speaks to a distinct, hidden present. Movingly, Koko says she’s here “for the girls who can’t speak.” With its brisk running time, clarity, and bluntness, Smith’s documentary creates a secure space for its speakers that is memorable and vital.