Vetor Interviews: Raven Valentine

In this intimate conversation, Raven opens up about the intersection of her trans identity and her music, how sex work has played a role in her survival and empowerment, and her journey of self-love and healing.

Interviewed by Matheus Lima & Guilherme Higashizima

Photography by Kaio César

Vetor Magazine (VM): How do you see the intersection between your trans identity and the music you create? Has music been a form of affirmation for you?

Raven (R): Transitioning has been such a beautiful vehicle for me to achieve so many things in life. It’s allowed me to express myself colorfully and truly live a life unburdened by concern for what society or anyone thinks about my identity or existence. I believe most people are transitioning in some way or another. My music has become a channel for connecting with people from all walks of life, helping them see the humanity not just in trans women, but in all women — in all people, regardless of their gender, sexuality, or skin color. Music has affirmed me in countless ways: creating something that began as a thought or feeling and transforming it into something physical and beautiful that will live on even after I’m gone.

Photography by Kaio César

VM: The title of your album, Everybody Loves Raven, seems to reflect your relationship with the world. What does this title mean to you, especially in the context of your personal journey?

R: This title holds a few meanings. First, it’s an affirmation — that I am loved by everyone, even those who might not agree with me or who may seem to hate me. In some way, they admire me. My existence and expression stir something in them, and I choose to view that positively. Secondly, it was my intention to create a body of work that not only I would enjoy and cherish, but that others could as well. It’s a love letter, in part, but also a desire for validation and acceptance. I grew up alone, without friends or family, and this was a way to heal the inner child who just wanted someone to love her. The title reflects my journey toward self-love and learning to set boundaries — to give a piece of myself to those who love me without losing myself in the process.

Photography by Kaio César

VM: The photography by Raphaël Chatelain used in your project has a sense of memory. How does the concept of “remembering” connect with your art and personal life? Is there an image or moment you consider a key memory in your journey?

R: There have been many key moments, but one of the biggest was meeting my birth mother for the first time. It was a bittersweet experience. We were flown out to meet each other for a Kohl’s Home for the Holidays commercial after I submitted my story and was chosen. She was living in San Francisco at the time, and we met in a hotel room before the official shoot. Everything was going well until she went into the bathroom to use drugs. When she came out, she was disoriented and didn’t believe I was her child. She told me, ‘Who sent you? Because they know the only way to hurt me is to use you — the child that was taken — against me.’ The next day, in front of the film crew, she was normal again. We cried, we hugged, and we haven’t let go since. She’s now been sober for over a decade.

Photography by Kaio César

VM: You’ve spoken about how sex work has been a tool for survival and empowerment in your life. How do you think society can begin to view sex work in a more positive and liberating way, especially for those within the queer community?

R: Society needs to take a deep, long look within. Sex work is one of the oldest professions, and for many, it’s a way to reclaim power. As someone who has been sexually assaulted, it helped me take back control — to see my body not just as an object, but as a source of strength and a means to invest in my art and business. My grandmother and mother were both forced into sex work as children because they were homeless — my grandmother even sold my mother. We’re all products of a broken system and generations of trauma. When society realizes how deeply this affects every community — especially our POC queer families — maybe we’ll see some empathy and real change to protect future generations.

Photography by Kaio César

VM: How do you find the strength to share such intimate parts of your life with your audience? What role does vulnerability play in your creative process?

R: Vulnerability is my way of healing. Turning my pain into something beautiful that others can connect with and heal from, too. That’s what makes the best songs — the ones I can feel. I often cry as I’m writing, sometimes barely making it through the recording process. I’ll do several takes, crying through each line. There are still songs that make me cry when I listen, but they’re tears of healing now. It’s a beautiful process I’ve fallen in love with and am endlessly grateful for.

Photography by Kaio César

VM: How do you know when a song is ready? What does that moment feel like for you, and how do you balance perfection with the emotional honesty of the work?

R: When I can listen to it fully for a few months without finding a flaw. I’m an extreme perfectionist so it’s often a fun but grueling process because I also have OCD. So if I can’t get a song to a point where I’m absolutely in love with it, I will become tired of it and scrap it or have it on the back burner to work on later. When a song was meant to come out, it’s often the easiest to finish or the easiest to rework. But I’m a Cancer, so I’m a person who has to either work when I’m feeling it or I’m completely distressed and don’t wanna work on music or anything and just crawl into a hole. So I force myself to expel that emotion. I have a strong sense of emotional intelligence, so I know when it’s time to hit the studio or let things brew within a bit more. Emotional honesty is everything to me. My songs are diaries into my mind and soul. I would say 70% of the songs are freestyled in the moment lyrically, and 90% of the way I sing or rap is spontaneous, based on how I’m feeling when I press record. After I’m finished, I will revise and work out potentially better melodies or lyrics. Often, I record as if no one will ever hear the song, and then once it’s done, I’m like, "Oh my god, people are gonna think I’m insane!"

Photography by Kaio César

VM: You are well known within the queer underground community. What does this community represent to you, both in the support it offers and the way it has helped you grow artistically and personally?

R: I met Rose one fated night in West Hollywood, and that moment changed my life. She introduced me to my queer community, and through her, I found the chosen family I never had. After years of feeling alone and abused, I was finally able to feel love and acceptance. My queer community has become my true family. I was taken from my birth mother at the age of one and adopted by an extremely religious family. I was sent to conversion therapy camp for six months, incarcerated for a year, ostracized by many of my peers, and constantly bullied for being different. I left home at 16 to escape the persecution and moved to California at 18 with just $200. I lived with Craigslist roommates who stole from me and harassed me. I spent many nights sleeping on the metro Red Line. Eventually, I began working on the corner — the Blade — to survive. At 23, I learned about the LGBT Center. I was placed in a Salvation Army shelter, but assigned to the men’s section because of my gender assigned at birth. Eventually, I moved into a Transitional Living Program. After saving money from working the Blade, I was able to buy a phone and a flight to New York City during the pandemic. Meeting Rose that one night felt like I could stop holding my breath. My queer community is everything.

Photography by Kaio César

VM: Is being a mainstream artist something you aspire to, or is your focus more on staying within the underground scene where you feel most connected? How do you balance these contrasting potential futures?

R: For me, I want to be mainstream enough to reach a broader audience and achieve the things I desire for myself and my family. My birth mother and I are still having to see clients, and that hurts me. I want a life where we can live and work freely, not because we have to, but because we want to. No matter how mainstream I become, I will always seek closeness. I need it in order to feel safe and happy. I love human connection and childlike wonder. Fame is a resource to help our stories be heard and to create generational and community wealth.

Photography by Kaio César

VM: Looking back on everything you’ve shared today, what message do you hope people take away from your music and your journey, especially those who may relate to your experiences?

R: The message I want people to take away is to have hope and never stop believing in yourself. Life can be challenging and sometimes painful, but the best things often fall right into your lap when you least expect it. I love making music and connecting with people, and I’m so thankful for this opportunity to do exactly that. Special thanks to Kaio, Gabi, and everyone at the Vetor team, as well as my team — Pia, Andrew, Jaime, Byron, Stevie, Nahla. I love you all endlessly!

Photography by Kaio César

VM: To wrap things up, what's the next thing you're most excited for right now?

R: I’m super excited for part two and three of Everybody Loves Raven, which are already recorded and mastered, ready to drop. Part two is coming around summer. This installment is about rage, where I release my inner demons and a few angels with some super hard electronic beats, along with softer tracks that have more of a trap R&B vibe. I also have a bunch of music videos coming soon, and a viral video moment on the way — but I can’t give away too much!

Editorial Credits:

Photography: @kaiocsr

Photography Assistance: @gabriellabmz

Hair and makeup: @jaime.creates

Styling & Creative Direction: @supbyron, @stevie.xs, @pia__thedollbaby

Movement Direction: @nahlawyld

Model wearing: @nosesso, @windowsen