Dancing Was Denali Berries Stuckey’s Joy
She was unapologetic about her choices and lived in her truth
This story is part of Know Their Names, a collection of articles illuminating and celebrating the lives of Black Trans women.
Dancing always made Denali Berries Stuckey feel free. The movement and rhythm was liberating and reflected how she lived her life and interacted with those around her.
Like the time she heard Frankie Beverly and Maze’s “Before I Let Go” blaring through the speakers and couldn’t contain herself. Her long, manicured fingers tapped her chest to the beat until she lifted her hands to frame her face in a flash of voguing. Denali, with long, dark, wavy hair and a fuchsia sweatshirt zipped to the neck, was living fully in that moment as a voice called out to cheer her on: “I got you, baby.”
These moments, captured on video, are precious to Andrea Stuckey, Denali’s mother. She watches them daily. The recordings embody Denali’s vibrant spirit and memories of a life cut short.
On July 20, at the age of 29, Denali was shot and killed in North Charleston, South Carolina. Two days later, as many as 200 people gathered at Equality Hub, a support space for the LGBTQIA+ community, for a candlelight vigil to honor her life. Police are investigating her death as a homicide; additional details are unknown.
How Denali died says very little about the very full life she lived. Her loved ones will remember her for many things — her devotion to her family, her outgoing personality, her unique style, and, yes, her dancing.
Raised in North Charleston, Denali lived with her mother and grandmother. Andrea and her daughter were “very close.” From her grandmother and mother, Denali inherited her love for cooking. Her favorite food to cook and eat was soul food, especially greens and cabbage. She was a people person. Her charisma attracted many friends, according to Denali’s mom: “She had a nice personality, was loving and caring. She had a whole lot of friends — more friends than me!”
As a child, Denali was the kind of easygoing baby most parents dream of. She slept through the night at a very young age, was never fussy, and ate everything her mother put in front of her, including all of her fruits and vegetables, according to Andrea. She was an independent child. When she was around seven or eight months old, Denali pulled herself to her feet and launched herself into walking. Denali was often ahead of other children her age, in constant motion, propelling herself toward a goal. When she saw something she wanted, she never hesitated to go for it.
Then there was Denali in the eighth grade with her dance partner, breaking into moves timed in perfect synchronicity. Denali, wearing an oversized white T-shirt and loose denim jeans, was rocking, spinning, clapping. Claiming her joy.
Though food and family brought comfort to Denali, it was dance that gave her freedom.
In her preteen years, Denali began modeling and entering beauty pageants, winning two of them. After a few years, though, she lost interest in pageants. “It wasn’t her kind of crowd,” Andrea says. Still, Denali maintained her impeccable sense of fashion, which began evolving during her pageant years. “She loved looking good,” says her cousin Ron’Rico Fudon, who had been close to Denali since she was 15. She followed the latest trends but put her unique stamp on them, he says. Denali left high school at the end of junior year but continued her education by immersing herself in self-help books.
By the time she reached her early twenties, Denali moved out of the family home and into her own apartment, 20 minutes away. She called her mother every day and dropped by at least once a week to visit. Andrea says Denali spoiled her with gifts, buying her handbags by Gucci and Louis Vuitton for Christmas and Mother’s Day.
Though food and family brought comfort to Denali, it was dance that gave her freedom.
Denali loved to move, Andrea says. She’d occasionally go to a bar with friends, but she danced mainly at gatherings at the homes of friends and family members. She loved rap, R&B, and Beyoncé.
Denali altered her clothes to create the exact look she wanted, making them her own. She would take a regular crew-neck T-shirt, for example, and convert it into a V-neck. Denali had a penchant for wearing skirts, leggings, and cropped jackets. She donned heels and sneakers, too, no matter the occasion. “She was a little fashionista. She made sure she was dolled up even when going to the corner store,” Ron’Rico remembers. “She was always dressed as if she was about to hit the main stage.”
She became a nail technician and hoped someday to open her own hair and nail salon. In her free time, Denali enjoyed spending time with young children. She was a doting caregiver, regularly babysitting several children who lived in the neighborhood. “Trans people have jobs and families and goals and education,” Ron’Rico says. “She was one of those people.”
She was also a “firecracker,” Ron’Rico says. She always said what was on her mind, confidently. This was the case when she came out as Trans, recalls Ron’Rico, vice president of Charleston Black Pride. He credits Denali’s supportive family members for her ability to be forthright with everyone about her identity at such a young age.
In fact, how Denali came out to him is one of Ron’Rico’s favorite memories of his younger cousin. He spotted 19-year-old Denali crossing a street in North Charleston, wearing a skirt, a V-neck bodysuit, and long hair. “I asked her, ‘What’s up with this?’ [I was] referring to her clothing and makeup. She replied, ‘What do you think? Do I have to tell you?’ She smiled, gave a little twirl in her outfit, and laughed,” he says.
Denali had an insatiable zest for life, according to her loved ones, and an irrepressible spirit. “I watched her grow daily into a beautiful young woman—bold, authentic, and unapologetically Transgender. She was always bubbly, happy, and free,” says Ron’Rico. And, of course, always dancing.
This sense of clarity and confidence about who she was permeated everything she did. To the day she died, Denali was Denali. “She was proud of who she was,” Ron’Rico says. “Nobody could have taken that away from her.”
