From behind, Portia is crouched over a mix of journals, books, electrical wires, and DJ mixers. The back of their silver chain necklace glistens in the subtle lighting.
Photo: Ofentse Kwenaite

When the Muzzle Comes Off, Who Do You Bite?

Rachel DeForrest Repinz

Hi, I’m Portia, says Portia Wells (they/he) as they emerge from the quiet glow of TV screens and DJ mixers. Their voice cracks. They try again:

Hi, I’m Portia.

They clear their throat, trying once more:

Hi, I’m Portia… Sorry, I don’t know why my voice did that…

Wells’s new solo work, When the Muzzle Comes Off, Who Do You Bite First?, presented in the 2025 Estrogenius Festival, feels like both a final chapter and a new beginning. This is Wells’s third year on the producing and creative team of the annual NYC festival, celebrating the work of femme, non-binary, non-conforming, and trans womxn artists.

I first encountered Wells’s work when we shared a bill at the 2023 Estrogenius Festival. Since then, we’ve become colleagues, friends, and creative peers. Their work is consistently vulnerable, tender, and charming; this latest offering deepens these sensibilities with multiplied intensity. When the Muzzle Comes Off feels like a re-introduction to Wells, outfitted with the same alluring charisma and authenticity, but this time with daring certainty.

This solo is from the gut. The blare of pulsing dance music, snarling dogs, and a distorted microphone builds a soundscape that is messy, chaotic, and unguarded. As a performer, Wells brings an unmistakable relentlessness, effortlessly moving between quotidian gesture and luscious phrase work, offering intimate reflections on their trans non-binary transition along the way.

I enter the small black box theater of Downtown Arts to Whitney Houston’s iconic music video, “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” playing on a boxy 2000s-style TV. As lights dim and screens go black, Wells emerges atop a DJ mixer, softly lit by the glow of the illuminated control panel.

A pulsing beat partly built from the sounds of overlapping dog barks swells as Wells unfurls. They rip themselves through the space, tugging on their silver chain necklace. Continuously collapsing in on themself, they are relentless in their endurance to rebuild themself again, and again.

Wells moves between playful flirtation and a tender hesitation, at times looking to the audience for reassurance, confidence growing as they continue in their (re)introduction. Hi, I’m Portia. They morph into a bodybuilder, flexing muscles and reflecting the flashing images on the TVs behind them. I’m wondering how much you want to know. Flex, twist, contract, curl.

Through several outfit changes performed in front of the audience, Wells is not afraid to morph into different versions of themself, inviting us to spectate in the moments of transformation. In one moment, they fling themself through the space in neon green running sneakers; the next they strut and chassé as the “Rhinestone Cowboy,” complete with a bedazzled denim matching set and jazzy phrase work. Wells moves effortlessly between these versions of themself, without shying away from revealing the messy moments.

Sorry to interrupt… Wells eventually pulls the plug on their own dance party. They leave us with a departing confession, reading directly from their journal into an echo-y microphone. They imagine a future where everyone can dig deeper, where the collective “we” can move past the limit to this conscious honesty. A future where Wells finds their bark, their bite, and most importantly, one where they’re still alive.

When the Muzzle Comes Off feels like less of a return than a rebirth – Wells emerges with full command of their voice, even if it cracks a little bit.

When the Muzzle Comes Off, Who Do You Bite First?, Estrogenius Festival, Downtown Arts, May 24.

Share this article

Rachel DeForrest Repinz

Rachel DeForrest Repinz is a visually disabled dancer, choreographer, scholar, teacher, and writer based in Philadelphia and NYC. She is an editorial board member, editor, and staff writer with thINKingDANCE.

PARTNER CONTENT

Keep Reading

Dances from the Churn

Ankita

Bodies across generations resist being silenced.

A black-and-white photo of two dancers in a brick-walled room. One, masc-presenting, has long curly hair and peeks out at the ceiling, mouth slightly open in expressive thought, one hand bent to touch their forehead, shielding half of their face. The other hand rests against the center of their body. A second dancer stands to their left, mirroring this pose with face tilted all the way to the sky and taut arms.
Photo: Thomas Kay

Possibilities Within Pain

Ankita

Maybe…pain can make one whole.

A white person with curly hair, a beard, and piercing blue eyes shows half of zir face, covering the rest with a red dome shaped hat. Pain au chocolat is stuffed in zir mouth, and zir clothes are bifurcated, much like zir face––half outfitted in red and gold, and the other half in black.
Photo: Janoah Bailin

Search

More results...

Generic selectors
Exact matches only
Search in title
Search in content
Post Type Selectors
Writers
Filter by Categories
.
Book Reviews
Interviews
News
Reviews
thINKpieces
Write Back Atchas