“Do you know what day it is?” asked Rebecca Black on a Friday night, kicking off Pride weekend, underneath the Kosciuszko Bridge in Greenpoint. Protected from the constant rumble of traffic and wearing a leather-black miniskirt that read, in clear hand-stenciled letters, “Trans Liberation Now,” she ended her opening set at LadyLand with a euphoric, reinvented hyperpop version of “Friday” that bounced and ached gleefully in the night air.
The body, as a locus for…
