On Sunday June 28, the anniversary of the start of the Stonewall Riots, we threw a little digital shindig to celebrate Pride as an uprising and to raise money for Women for Political Change in Minneapolis. We’re giving A+ Members access even if they couldn’t make the live show because they’re the best, so if you sign up now, you just have to await the weekly A+ E-News for details!
Black Pride in DC is a chance to celebrate our community’s resilience, honor our history and organize for a better future! This year, I attended afro-futurist art shows, alien burlesque performances, and intergalactic dance parties, all on Zoom from the safety of my couch.
As trans people who are so accustomed to losing our chosen family before they become elders, Ceyenne Doroshow is setting a blueprint for what it means to live fiercely and claim a stake on your life.
We place joy at the center of our spaces, because spaces created for us are often only interested in our trauma and pain.
Featuring El Sanchez, Jes Tom, Junauda Petrus-Nasah and Be Steadwell, 100% of ticket proceeds go to support Women for Political Change in Minneapolis!
We see violence not only in the crimson of blood spilled far too many times but also in the varying shades of brown on the skins of people of color. To be a person of color in the United States, and in the global narrative, is to be the shadow of violence.
Alternative forms of protest are necessary to make activism accessible. Sometimes, they’re even more effective at creating change than a permitted march.
For the Gworls is a prime example of how Black trans organizers have found ways to keep one another safe, housed, and healthy despite violence at every turn.
While hiring SROs is often a well-intentioned means of protecting students and staff, police are punitive — not preventative.
To me, magic means resilience and connecting to ancestors who survived the tragedy of the Middle Passage. Magic runs through my veins and feels like my birthright. It’s stronger than white supremacy will ever be.
I want the world to no longer assume ownership of our bodies, but we cannot do that without land. Decolonizing the land itself is not only crucial but necessary for a liberated future in which everyone’s body belongs to themselves.
This isn’t just exhausting. This is intergenerational trauma, oppression, and maybe even genocide. This violence is specifically targeted against black and brown women, gender non-conforming folks, and especially trans women of color.
A free world for sex workers would be a free world for people’s bodies, desires, and pleasures — that is to say, a world worth fighting for.
Over 15,000 people turned up for the Brooklyn Liberation Action for Black Trans Lives this past weekend and these are the best photographs I have ever seen.
My white queer friends don’t know why it’s such a big deal for them to not do any of the stupid and obviously illegal things they tend to do if I’m the one behind the wheel.
“And I thought how interesting is it that America can be this dark star, death star, and also at the same time this incredible shining light.”
For Black queer and trans people, insisting on cultivating joy might be the most radical move of all.
Friends and family lovingly called him Tony the Tiger and recalled that he was big hearted. Tony is not the perfect victim — no Black person is in this nation’s eyes. So again and again I add #BlackTransLivesMatter to every post and plea I make.
As annoying as it is, probably, to hear it, you really have to lead with love. It’s not our responsibility to love people who hate us or wish us ill, but if those people are your friends or family, it is yours. If you genuinely care about your family and want them to be and do better, let that ground your conversation.
Real commitment to Black lives requires us to consider why we’re fighting and for whom. It’s time we ask ourselves: if our liberation weren’t intertwined, if your well-being weren’t tied to that of Black people, would you still defend Black life?