Don’t Fuck With My Queen is a danced short film that confronts the violence faced by the LGBTQIA+ community.
It is born from wounds that are still open. Assaults, hatred, lives taken simply for existing in their truth.
The choreography becomes both a requiem and an uprising. Every movement pulses with urgency, affirming that our community will not disappear. It reclaims queer existence, love, and joy.
Even in the face of violence. Where others try to erase us, we rise.

Director’s Vision for ‘Don’t F**ck With My Queen’

I chose to make a danced film because the body can express what words often cannot. It carries raw emotion, memory, survival.

Here, dance is a release but also a form of resistance. It becomes revolt, ritual, and declaration of existence. And yet, the silence is not complete. There is one line of dialogue. One phrase. Brief, but essential. A rupture. This spoken moment breaks through the movement, interrupts it, reminding us how sometimes a single word is enough to shift everything.

Visually, I embraced a minimal, organic, and sensorial aesthetic
an open space for the body to speak, for light and shadow to collide.
The atmosphere moves between funeral rite and call to life.
Music plays a fundamental role. It tells, in its own way, the story of a celebration interrupted by a storm, a moment of joy suddenly broken.

This film is as much a political act as it is an artistic one.
It speaks of loss but more importantly, of what we do with that loss.
How we turn pain into power, absence into presence.
It reclaims queer existence in all its intensity. Vulnerable, proud, untamed.
In the face of hate, erasure, and regression.

I choose to dance.
I choose to let our bodies speak.
And I choose not to be silent.