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In a city loaded with Pride celebrations, Pride Night Out has carved out a space all its own. The vibes are intimate, intentional, and solidly rooted in community. What began as a modest backyard get-together in the dreamy neighborhood of Silver Lake has since bloomed into one of LA’s most relevant queer events bringing together trailblazers, tastemakers, and allies for an evening of panel discussions and more. It effortlessly blends art, connection, and resistance with its own signature style.
At the wheel of this Pride-centric powwow is Andrew Bear, a creative force behind the event and co-founder of Hyperion LA, a queer-inclusive production company that has made itself known for its storytelling and cultural impact.
In our conversation, Bear shares the origins and evolution of Pride Night Out, the philosophy behind this year’s theme “Why Now?”, and how the event blends queer history, art, and joy in a time of political urgency. From honoring legacy folks like the Queen Mother of the Imperial Court to creating intentional moments of celebration, Bear shares what it means to authentically lead with care and courage in today’s queer cultural landscape. For more information about the event, visit hyperionla.com/pridenight-out.
LOS ANGELES BLADE: First things first - can you tell us a little bit about the origins of Pride Night Out? What inspired the very first event?
ANDREW BEAR: Pride Night Out started as a passion project. I wanted to create a space that felt curated, intentional, and warm — a place where queer creatives, founders, and culture-drivers could gather outside of the usual nightlife or corporate mixers. It began with a few friends and collaborators in a Silver Lake backyard and has since grown into something that feels meaningful, magnetic, and still deeply personal.
BLADE: Pride is celebrated all across Los Angeles during Pride month. What sets Pride Night Out apart?
BEAR: Pride Night Out is about depth, not scale. We keep it focused so the energy stays high and the connections feel real. It’s not a party just for the sake of it. It’s an intersection of creative minds, queer visionaries, and people who actually want to build community. It’s stylish, celebratory, and intentional and being hosted in our own space makes it feel rooted in something bigger than a single night.
BLADE: What does the theme of this year’s panel, “Why Now?”, mean to you both personally and communally?
BEAR: “Why Now?” is a question I’ve been asking myself all year. For me, it’s about no longer waiting — to speak,
to act, to lead. As a community, it feels like we’re being called to respond to the moment we’re in — politically, culturally, creatively. The theme is an invitation to be bold and honest about what matters most right now, and why we can’t afford to wait.
BLADE: The Queen Mother of the Imperial Court is scheduled to make an appearance. How are you incorporating queer legacy and lineage into this otherwise forward-looking event?
BEAR: Queer history lives in the room, whether we name it or not but we wanted to name it. Having the Queen Mother join us is such an honor. This year, we’re intentionally blending legacy and next-gen voices, not just in the programming, but in the energy of the night. It’s about remembering who came before us while making space for what’s next.
BLADE: How does Hyperion LA’s identity as a queer-inclusive production company inform the way Pride Night Out is produced?
BEAR: It’s not performative — it’s in our bones. From the way we staff the event to the brands we partner with, Pride Night Out is produced through a lens of inclusion, storytelling, and beauty. At Hyperion, we’re not just producing content, we’re producing culture. That same care and intention shows up in every detail of the event.
BLADE: How does art, performance, and nightlife affect
or impact queer resistance today? Is this part of the intention behind the music + vibes portion of the evening?
BEAR: Nightlife has always been a site of resistance for queer people. Music, performance, and fashion have long been our weapons and our balm. The vibes are absolutely intentional — they create space for release, for joy, for connection. That’s powerful. That’s political. That’s Pride.
BLADE: The queer scene in Silver Lake has a rich and unique history. What makes the Silver Lake queer community feel different from other parts of LA?
BEAR: There’s a scrappy beauty to Silver Lake. It’s layered — historic, creative, a little chaotic, but always evolving. The queer community here feels deeply invested in each other. It’s not just where we live, it’s where we organize, collaborate, and care. It’s one of the last neighborhoods in LA that still feels like a neighborhood.
BLADE: What role do media and visibility play in moments like this? What are your hopes for the coverage/ amplification of the event?
BEAR: Visibility is everything, especially now. Media coverage isn’t just PR, it’s preservation. It says we were here, we gathered, and we created something worth documenting. I hope the coverage shows the depth of the night — the fashion, the feeling, the power of queer people showing up for each other.
BLADE: In a climate where anti-LGBTQ+ legislation is spreading like wildfire, how do you balance celebration with cultural urgency?
BEAR: By refusing to separate them. Celebration is resistance. Our joy is not apolitical — it’s necessary. Pride Night Out isn’t escapism, it’s energy. We honor the urgency of this moment by creating space for people to recharge, reconnect, and reimagine together.
BLADE: What’s one thing you hope guests walk away with at the end of the night?
BEAR: Clarity. Whether it’s clarity around their purpose, their people, or just the reminder that they’re not alone. And maybe a little glow, from the lighting, the conversation, the Champagne, all of it.
BLADE: And last but not least, how has producing Pride Night Out changed or reaffirmed your own connection to queer identity and leadership?
BEAR: It’s made me braver. It’s shown me that queer leadership doesn’t have to follow a blueprint - it can be stylish, tender, disruptive, and unapologetic. This event keeps me connected to the why behind everything I do. It’s both a mirror and a love letter.
By ROB SALERNO
Citing the need for experienced leadership to protect LGBTQ rights and control the skyrocketing cost of living in Los Angeles, West Hollywood City Council member John Erickson has announced a bid for the California Senate District 24 seat that will be up for election in November 2026.
“I’m running for California state Senate because after what I’ve seen, not only from the first few months of the Trump administration, the devastating fires, but also the impact of what we’re seeing on our state budget from federal and state budget cuts,” Erickson says.
“And as an LGBTQ elected official, and someone who’s lived paycheck to paycheck and deals with housing insecurity because I live in a rent-controlled apartment, I understand the different ways that the rising costs of living impact our lives. We need someone up there who lives these realities.”
The sprawling district, which includes West Hollywood, Hollywood, Malibu, Agoura Hills, Santa Monica, and many of the South Bay cities, is currently represented by term-limited Sen. Ben Allen. Erickson says his experience on WeHo City Council makes him an ideal representative for this diverse collection of communities.
“That’s why West Hollywood is such a great test case for it, because we have so many different communities and populations,” he says. “All of these different locations, they all make up people who are really well versed in what’s going on and progressive, but also wanting to make sure government’s working for them.”
While California has long been a leader on LGBTQ rights, Erickson says it’s still important to have queer representatives at the state level.
“Having more representation is always critical, right? If you see it you can believe it and you can achieve it,” he says, citing his proven leadership on West Hollywood City Council. Erickson says the attacks on LGBTQ rights are intensifying both from the federal government and the courts, and California needs lawmakers who are prepared to stand up for us.
“There are challenges in the state of Texas that are trying to make PrEP and PEP completely illegal to get, so we need to make sure that we’re doing all that we can to make
sure access to that is available,” he says.
And when it comes to trans rights, Erickson is unequivocal in his support for trans people, despite growing hostility from the federal government, and Gov. Newsom’s recent calls for trans women to be excluded from sports.
“We can never and should never put equality on the chopping block for any member of any community,” he says. “We have seen individuals playing in sports who have full rights and dignity of who they are in their lives and that needs to be honored and uplifted.”
Erickson says he has a plan to stand up for trans inclusion and equality at the state and federal levels.
“I would advocate for the full inclusion of budgetary dollars as well as fighting for their rights either through legislation or supporting litigation that the state would be engaged in,” he says.
Of course, the District also faces huge challenges related to the skyrocketing cost of living and rebuilding from this year’s devastating fires, which Erickson says are related problems: The fires have exacerbated a housing shortage while driving up the cost of insurance for everyone in the region.
He says he wants to ensure that state and federal resources are directed at clearing fuel from fire-prone areas to prevent more fires
“We need to make sure that our partners in the federal government also aren’t removing any funds from us. The federal advocacy that the states can be playing to ensure that California is getting not only our rates from FEMA but the monies that we’re owed is critical,” he says.
On insurance, Erickson says the state has to focus on reducing costs for businesses while also investigating a state-run insurance program.
“California regulates insurance, and so, we can create a California-based insurance program that I know there’s been some talk about,” Erickson says. “California is the fourth largest economy in the world. We have the power to throw our weight around in that way.”
Erickson has come out as a supporter of the so-called “Abundance Agenda” that advocated for removing government obstacles from the producing things that people want more of – whether that’s housing or public works projects like transit and infrastructure – as way of bringing down costs and stemming the tide of people leaving California.
“The abundance agenda has allowed us to say we’re in a housing shortage,” he says. “Very few people can live in the communities in which they work. That’s unacceptable. Communities need to be investing in public infrastructure, streets, trees, and sidewalks, and investing in the expansion of metro or bus.
“We’re in a shortage, I think, of common-sense policy reforms”
Erickson has long been a supporter of West Hollywood’s dream for a Metro K-Line extension through the city, which he says will help reduce traffic and improve mobility while reducing people’s day-to-day costs.
“I think as more and more communities are getting activated and frustrated around the lack of, Moment on these issues. I’ve seen the success of the movement.”
He also cites the current slump in the local film and TV industries as evidence that the state needs to reduce the cost of doing business.
“They’re leaving California over all of these costs of doing business skyrocketing,” he says.
Erickson is joining a crowded field seeking the Senate seat. Already having declared their candidacy are Palos Verdes school board member Eric Alegria; Doheny-Sunset Plaza neighborhood council president Ellen Evans; journalist Brian Goldsmith; LA Human Relations Commission member Brittany McKinley; LA Planning Commission member Mike Newhouse; and cardiologist Sion Roy, all Democrats. The sole declared Republican candidate is Palisades Charter High School trustee Kristina Irwin.
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‘We are no longer waiting to be seen’
Joy as power, presence as protest, visibility that refuses to be diminished
By AJ SLOAN
As Los Angeles Black Pride (LABP) gears up for another saucy season of celebration, culture, and resistance, we are proud to announce a new six-week media partnership between LABP and the Los Angeles Blade. This collaboration is not just promotion but intention. It is about making sure Black queer voices are not just heard, but honored and amplifi ed.
To kick it off , we are excited to announce that Saucy Santana will headline LABP’s Saturday night main stage. Known for their unapologetic energy, queer-centric bops, and fearless showmanship, Santana represents exactly what LABP is about — joy as power, presence as protest, and visibility that refuses to be diminished.
The theme for LABP 2025 is “Black Queer Futures Are Now: We Are No Longer Waiting to Be Seen.” Our partnership sets the tone for what’s to come. It is a shared commitment to telling Black queer stories, past and present, and investing in what’s to come.
What started as a party born out of necessity has now become a full-scale movement. LABP Executive Director Brandon Anthony, who began his journey throwing parties like Ice Cream Thursdays, recounts the roots of this project:
“It started off as something I felt was missing... a space that felt like us: where the music hit right, where the energy felt familiar, and where we could just be,” he says. “What began as a vibe we needed grew into a platform. Now, it’s a business, a brand, a movement, but at the heart of it, I’m still just someone who wanted to create space for my community to feel good, feel seen, and feel proud.”
From nightlife to nationwide recognition, LABP is proof that when Black queer folks create for themselves, the result is not just representation, it’s revolution. In a landscape where many Pride events still sideline Black and Brown voices, LABP has become a necessary act of reclamation.
“Because if we don’t, who will?” Anthony asks. “Too often we get left out or placed in the background. Our energy, our style, our voices — we drive the culture. When we center ourselves, it gives others permission to do the same. Joy is more than a feeling, it’s a form of resistance.”
That resistance has never been more needed. From limited funding to systemic erasure, LABP continues to thrive against the odds. But the message is clear: thriving should never necessitate struggle.
“We’re not just asking for visibility — we’re asking for the tools to thrive,” he explains. “Now more than ever, we need partners who are aligned with the people, not just the optics.”
With the 2025 theme of “Legacy and Leadership in Action,” LABP honors the trailblazers who paved the way. Icons like Jewel Thais-Williams, founder of the legendary Catch One, are celebrated annually through the Jewel Thais-Williams Award.
“Catch One wasn’t just a nightclub, it was a safe haven,” Anthony shares. “Legacy isn’t just about the past. It’s about lifting up the folks doing the work right now and keeping that energy alive.”
LABP continues that work through programming that extends far beyond June. Year-round initiatives include pop-up markets, health services, creative workshops, and political advocacy.
“One of the moments that really showed what we stand for was the All Black Lives Matter march in 2020,” he says. “We co-led it alongside Gerald Garth, and it was pow-
erful to see thousands show up for Black Trans lives. That wasn’t just a moment - it was a movement.”
Whether it’s showcasing emerging artists on stage, uplifting Black trans creatives, or building platforms for new leaders, LABP is focused on making sure the next generation has room to grow.
“When people are given a platform to show what they can do, it creates more than visibility, it creates momentum,” he says. “That’s what keeps everything moving forward.”
And with names like Saucy Santana taking center stage, that movement is gaining speed. Santana’s headlining performance isn’t just a concert — it’s a declaration. It says that Black queer talent is main-stage worthy, every time. This partnership is not performative - it’s purposeful. It’s a bridge between platforms, audiences, and shared values.
“LA Blade has a huge reach, and by choosing to amplify Black queer voices, they’re helping bridge gaps and build deeper understanding,” says Anthony. “This isn’t about charity or tokenism. It’s about showing the world who we are, what we’re building, and why it deserves to be seen.”
In the words of LABP’s ongoing mission: We are no longer waiting to be seen. We are building what’s next.
Amid more upcoming raids and protests, we will have to learn when to act, how to react and when to find pockets of joy to celebrate in, because those moments are also acts of resistance
By GISSELLE PALOMERA
While many Angelenos celebrated the 55th annual L.A. Pride and mainstream news outlets like ABC7 and FOX11 news covered the celebrations, the reality for many other Angelenos involved tear gas, rubber bullets and breaking news coverage from community-led outlets like CALÓ News.
If we were to take a step back into the history of Pride, we would be angered by the amount of violence and pain that led to the protests on the dawn of June 28, 1969. The Stonewall uprising took place as a result of police raids at the now-infamous Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street in New York City. The night that has gone down in history as a canon event for queer and trans life began when police raided the Stonewall Inn and arrested multiple people. The arrests and the police brutality involved, led to an uprising that lasted a total of six days.
Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera were credited as being the first people in that historical moment to start the movement we now know and celebrate as Pride. They were Black and brown, people who transformed our notions of fear and action, modeling the mantra that we must act in order to not live in fear. The people at the Stonewall Inn on that night in June all those years ago, and all of the queer and trans people now, have something deeply unsettling in common.
We both live in a constant state of fear and anxiety.
We live in such a major state of fear that anxiety, depression and other mental health issues — including substance abuse disorders — tend to be particularly prevalent in the LGBTQ community. According to Mass Gen, the U.S. is facing a mental health crisis, with nearly 40% of the LGBTQ population in the U.S. reported experiencing mental illness last year, a figure of around 5.8 million people.
Pride began as the very type of protest that went on this past weekend over the U.S. Immigration Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids, where people have been taken into custody, reporters shot with rubber bullets and tear-gassed, and where union president David Huerta was taken into custody and charged with alleged federal conspiracy charges.
Over the weekend, I celebrated Pride. I admittedly celebrated being queer, while my other communities experienced fear in the face of arrests, tear gas to the eyes and baton blows to the head. It was an internal battle I was not prepared for and a real battle on the streets I was not ready to experience. It made me feel weak and more than anything, I felt tired. I felt scared and I felt like I was not prepared for what was to come from these arrests and this violence.
I am a proud child of immigrants. My mother is Colombian and migrated here in the early 80s, settling down in West L.A and building a life with children, houses and her religious community.
My father migrated here in the mid-to-late 80’s from Mexico, where he and his family were hardworking farmers. He has worked at his job, without rest, for over 35 years. He rose up the ranks from line worker to general manager. He does not miss work. He follows every rule and he is never late. Both are documented, but only because of luck and the ease of getting papers back when there weren’t so many bureaucratic steps to gaining citizenship or a green card legally.
My parents and their extended family are proof of a now-distant American Dream, one in which we gain status, we become homeowners and business owners, have children and send them off to college to learn things that our parents can’t even imagine.
Though they did the best they could, my parents had other challenges and barriers to their success. So I worked hard in order to succeed for them. I did it for all of the people in my communities. I did it to raise the statistics on Latinx people, LGBTQ people and former foster youth who go on to college despite the odds and get higher education degrees.
My road to where I am now was paved with uncertainty, food insecurity, homelessness and many other factors that pushed and pulled me back. The analogy I can think of to accurately compare myself to is a catapult. I was pulled down with weights that were added on more and more, until one day I catapulted forward into the life I now have the privilege to live. Though I still struggle in many ways, it is the first time in my life that I am not in survival mode. It’s the first time in my life that I get to exist as a queer person who can enjoy life, build a friend group and establish deep connections with people. It’s also the first time I get to enjoy Pride as someone who is single
and who has spent the past 18 months healing from my from my last relationship.
It was the first time in my life, as a lesbian who’s been out for over a decade, that I truly planned to enjoy Pride with my groups of friends.
While I was there this weekend, my internal battle began and I felt torn between celebrating my life and my queerness and covering the ICE raid protests happening not too far from Sunset Blvd.
What I didn’t expect was to see so many other people at Pride, completely oblivious and completely disconnected from the history of Pride, instead glorifying corporate brands and companies that have remained silent over LGBTQ issues, while others have gone as far as rolling back their Diversity, Equity and Inclusion initiatives.
If Marsha P. Johnson or Sylvia Rivera were there at that moment, they would have convinced us to merge our Pride celebration with the protests. They would have rallied us all to join forces, and in the spirit of Pride, we would have marched for our immigrant community members, fighting for their right to due process.
I’m not sure if I made the right decision or not, but the next 60 days will say a lot about every single one of us. We will have to learn when to act, how to react and when to find pockets of joy to celebrate in, because those moments are also acts of resistance.
The Trump administration vowed to strip away rights and has made it their mission to incite violence, fear and anxiety among all working class, BIPOC and LGBTQ people, so it is important, now more than ever, to unite and show up for each other, whether you’re at a Pride celebration or a protest.
The next 60 days will raise our anxiety and fear, but we must remember to also take breaks, celebrate wins, relish in community, hug your loved ones and use whatever amount of privilege that you have, to show up for the communities that are hurting the most in these moments.
Juneteenth is also coming up soon and I hope to see more of us rally around our Black brothers, sisters and siblings, to not only fight for our rights, but to continue celebrating ourselves and each other.
In the words of Marsha P. Johnson: “There is no pride for some of us, without liberation for all of us.”
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Andry Hernández Romero’s case continues to be a violent reminder that we must rise up and resist
Editor’s Note: Since this article was first published, more information on Andry’s case has become available.
UPDATE: On June 4, a federal judge ruled in favor of the ACLU and Democracy Forward in J.G.G. v. Trump, in which deported gay stylist Andry José Hernández Romero is one of the lead plaintiffs. Describing the Venezuelan deportees’ situation as Kafkaesque, Judge James E. Boasberg said the plaintiffs would likely prevail in their complaint about being denied due process, the New York Times reported Trump officials, Boasberg wrote in his 69-page ruling, “spirited away planeloads of people before any such challenge could be made. And now, significant evidence has come to light indicating that many of those currently entombed in CECOT have no connection to the gang and thus languish in a foreign prison on flimsy, even frivolous, accusations.”
“Absent this relief,” the judge wrote, “the government could snatch anyone off the street, turn him over to a foreign country and then effectively foreclose any corrective course of action.” He ordered the Trump administration to give the deportees the due process they have been denied.
On Friday, June 6, Rep. Pramila Jayapal (WA-07), Ranking Member of the Immigration Integrity, Security, and Enforcement Subcommittee, will host a shadow hearing Kidnapped and Disappeared: Trump’s Lawless Third Country Disappearances at which Andry s attorney Lindsay Toczylowski will testify.
The juxtaposition is morally excruciating. The very air in West Hollywood is electric with queer joy and the excitement of WeHo Pride, but it’s more than a celebration of our ongoing movement for liberation and equality. We’ve been waiting for a moment to exhale and stop the clamor of the Trump horror show.
What can we do to stop this overwhelming dictatorship campaign that is gleefully enforcing Project 2025 through a deluge of cruel Executive Orders, demonizing and erasing anything under Diversity, Equity and Inclusion initiatives and LGBTQ while dispatching masked ICE agents to snatch anyone Trump’s White Supremacist terrorist administration tags for deportation.
Among those swept up in Trump’s frenetic crusade is Andry Hernandez Romero, a 32-year-old gay hair stylist and makeup artist who fled harassment and threats of violence in Venezuela in May 2024, after speaking out against authoritarian dictator Nicolás Maduro. After navigating the complex app designed to streamline the byzantine U.S. lawful entry process, last August Romero faced a U.S. border official in San Diego. With no criminal history, he demonstrated a “credible fear of persecution” to proceed with an asylum case.
Imagine what Romero felt — so close to freedom, to opportunity, to unabashed queer joy.
Then came that Trumpian twist.
During a physical exam, officials fixated on Romero tattoos of crowns with the words “Mom” and “Dad.” The agent apparently assumed that Venezuelan gangs accept gays because he suspected Andry had gang affiliations and does not fact check because Tren de
Aragua does not use crown tattoos for gang identification.
Romero landed in detention awaiting his asylum court date. But one week before the March 13 hearing in San Diego, Romero was abruptly transferred to a facility in South Texas, resulting in his absence in court. The hearing was postponed to March 17 when the immigration judge again asked where Romero was.
“He was removed to El Salvador....we just found out today,” the ICE lawyer replied. The judge questioned the legality of Romero’s deportation without a removal order.
On March 14, Trump invoked the Alien Enemies Act — a 1798 law used during a declared war — to target immigrants as government “enemies” who had “infiltrated” America. Secretly, ICE deported Romero and 137 other Venezuelans to El Salvador’s notorious Terrorism Confinement Center, with Trump paying dictator President Nayib Bukele to incarcerate the kidnapped immigrants.
The world watched as Andry and his shackled fellow prisoners were displayed on TV brutally forced off the plane and forced to kneel as agents roughly shaved their heads.
TIME Magazine photographer Philip Holsinger reported that Romero was being slapped while crying out for his mother, “I’m not a gang member. I’m gay. I’m a stylist.”
Trump called the Venezuelans “rapists,” “savages,” “monsters” and “the worst of the worst,” claiming they were thoroughly vetted. But ProPublica reviewed each case of the Venezuelan deportees and reported that the Trump administration knew that “the vast majority” of the 238 Venezuelan immigrants ”had not been convicted of crimes in the United States before it labeled them as terrorists and deported them, according to U.S. Department of Homeland Security data that has not been previously reported.”
Lee Gelernt, the American Civil Liberties Union’s lead attorney fighting the deportations, told ProPublica that the removals amounted to a “’blatant violation of the most fundamental due process principles” and subjected the deportees to life imprisonment.
There have been numerous attempts to look for a humanitarian bone in the Trump administration’s body politic, most notably gay immigrant Rep. Robert Garcia’s heated exchange with Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem during a May 14 congressional hearing. Garcia (D-Long Beach) went to El Salvador for a welfare check but was denied access to Romero.
“He has had no access to lawyers or family since he has been taken over a month now,” Garcia told Noem. “His mother just wants to know if he is alive.”
“I don’t know the specifics of this individual case. This individual is in El Salvador and the appeal would be best made to the president and to the government of El Salvador on this,” replied Noem.
Garcia pushed back.
“You and the president have the ability to check if Andry is alive and is not being harmed. Would you commit to at least asking El Salvador if he is alive?”
‘co-winners’ is a crock
You didn’t misread that. Hernandez shared the podium with ‘co-winners’
A lot happened at last weekend’s high school state track and field championship meet in Clovis, Calif. Parents of cisgender student-athletes booed the one and only transgender girl competing. Police and security officers showed up in large numbers to keep protestors apart and safeguard the competitors. Police made an arrest outside the stadium after a demonstrator brandishing a transgender pride flag allegedly assaulted a man described as a conservative activist and caused damage to his vehicle.
The trans student — 16-year-old AB Hernandez — finished a winner. But she wasn’t “the” winner.
As CBS News reported, “Hernandez took home first place medals in both high jump and triple jump and she placed second in the long jump event. Following a rule change by the California Interscholastic Federation, a co-winner was named in each of the three events in which Hernandez placed.”
You didn’t misread that. Hernandez shared the podium with “co-winners.”
As the Blade reported last week, the CIF introduced a new “pilot entry process” that for the first time, allowed judges to score trans athletes separately from cisgender competitors, so there were three winners in every event: a cisgender male winner, a cisgender female winner and a trans student-athlete winner.
The new policy was announced hours after President Donald Trump threatened to pull “large scale federal funding” from the state if officials allowed trans athletes to compete according to their gender identity.
Despite the policy change, the U.S. Department of Justice announced on social media it was investigating State Attorney General Rob Bonta, State Superintendent of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond, the Jurupa Unified School District, and the CIF for potential violations of Title IX, as the Blade reported.
So what happens now? As KXTV reported, President Trump issued another threat to pull funding on Monday in a post to his Truth Social account, not naming Hernandez but labeling her “a biological male” and using his favorite derogatory nickname for California’s Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom.
“A Biological Male competed in California Girls State Finals, WINNING BIG, despite the fact that they were warned by me not to do so. As Governor Gavin Newscum fully understands, large scale fines will be imposed!!!”
Now, the pundits are weighing-in. Sara Pequeño wrote in USA Today how she was encouraged to see Hernandez share the 2nd place podium with Brooke White and “put their arms around each other.”
“They’re setting an example for how all of us should treat our trans neighbors, i.e., treating them like human beings, not enemies,” she wrote.
As Pequeño noted, Save Women’s Sports, an an-
By DAWN ENNIS
ti-trans advocacy group, could only identify five trans students in the entire United States who were competing on girls’ teams from kindergarten through grade 12 in 2023. “That group’s entire existence is to hate trans athletes, and they found very little to hate,” she wrote.
According to the president of the NCAA, there are fewer than 10 student-athletes who publicly identify as transgender out of the more than 500,000 competing at the collegiate level.
Pequeño was not alone in finding joy in the rules change that brought cisgender and transgender girls together on a podium, each of them a “co-winner.” So did self-proclaimed “trans advocate” Cyd Zeigler.
He’s one of the co-founders of the LGBTQ+ sports site Outsports, who in 2023 infamously came close to endorsing Florida Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis for president, only to offer his regrets, following a backlash from readers. Zeigler penned an op-ed Wednesday originally titled “California trans athlete policy is something everyone can embrace.”
“Everyone?” Not this sports editor.
He called the new CIF policy “the best possible path in 2025 to trans participation in sports.”
In celebrating this change, Zeigler also trashed “goalpost-moving trans advocates” and policies in California and Connecticut that allow “a trans girl to run in boys track meets and, without a medical transition, later compete in girls meets,” meaning high school competitions. “That’s bad policy,” declared Zeigler without evidence.
That policy in Connecticut has stood since 2011 and is enshrined in state law, and so far has withstood legal challenges once again being heard in federal court.
Outsports at some point changed the headline of his screed to “New California trans athlete policy is something we can embrace” and apparently made another significant choice: Despite quoting the outlet’s one and only remaining transgender contributor, Karleigh Webb, who opposes the rules change, Zeigler did not mention
her by name.
Why?
In an article published before the championship, Webb wrote: “If AB Hernandez wins, why should she have to share the spoils with someone else if’s not a tie? That’s what professional transphobes like Jennifer Sey and Riley Gaines try to sell. Awarding a duplicate medal gives their nonsense credence to the detriment of the sport and the athletes.”
Webb is right. Zeigler and the CIF and Gov. Newsom are wrong. You either win, or you lose, or if you prefer, you come in second, third, whatever. But “co-winners?”
That’s a crock.
Imagine if the Dodgers and Yankees shared the World Series trophy. Why shouldn’t the 49ers also win the Super Bowl alongside the Chiefs? Maybe Kamala Harris should be declared a “co-winner” of last November’s election?
Personally, I’m glad to see Hernandez embraced by her cisgender peers. I’m relieved to know that crowds cheering these amazing girls last weekend drowned out the hecklers who showed up to boo a child. I’m encouraged that even if she had to share the win, Hernandez was given her rightful place among the teens competing and proved she was not only worthy of competing but did not win in every event.
So, she’s hardly “unbeatable.” Most trans athletes actually lose, as Zeigler wrote almost six years ago, back before he started echoing anti-trans inclusion activists Martina Navratilova, Renee Richards and Nancy Hogshead-Makar.
If he really thinks the CIF “co-winners” rule is going to silence anti-trans forces, I think he’s going to be very surprised by Riley Gaines and her crowd.
While it’s easy for Zeigler to concede public opinion has shifted, he should know better than to blame those who pushed for inclusion, when it’s clear that conservative voices in media and politicians, like his, are the ones responsible for influencing that move to reject trans women’s right to compete in women’s sports. It’s a pendulum swing that in time will undoubtedly swing back, once the science proves that trans women and girls don’t always win. In fact, researchers have already proven some trans athletes are at a disadvantage compared to their cisgender competitors.
Just as Parker Molloy reported that a Republican-commissioned study on gender affirming care in Utah actually found “that youth who received care before age 18 had better outcomes, especially around depression, anxiety and suicidality. Hormonal treatments were associated with positive mental health and psychosocial functioning outcomes.”
I believe the science is on the side of transgender Americans. Americans love a winner. Not a “co-winner.”
Iconic author died last week; ‘no sunnier human in the world’
By WILL FRESHWATER
Unlike most gay men of my generation, I’ve only been to Fire Island twice. Even so, the memory of my first visit has never left me. The scenery was lovely, and the boys were sublime — but what stood out wasn’t the beach or the parties. It was a quiet afternoon spent sipping gin and tonics in a mid-century modern cottage tucked away from the sand and sun.
Despite Fire Island’s reputation for hedonism, our meeting was more accident than escapade. Michael Carroll — a Facebook friend I’d chatted with but never met — mentioned that he and his husband, Ed, would be there that weekend, too. We agreed to meet for a drink. On a whim, I checked his profile and froze. Ed was author Edmund White.
I packed a signed copy of Carroll’s “Little Reef” and a dog-eared hardback of “A Boy’s Own Story,” its spine nearly broken from rereads. I was excited to meet both men and talk about writing, even briefly. Last week, I woke to the news that Ed had passed away. Ironically, my first thought was of Michael. The, tributes to Edmund White are everywhere — rightly celebrating his towering legacy as a novelist, essayist, and cultural icon. I’ve read all of his books, and I could never do justice to the scope of a career that defined and chronicled queer life for more than half a century. I’ll leave that to better-prepared journalists.
tually and emotionally symbiotic. “He made me want to be elegant and brainy; I didn’t quite reach that, so it led me to a slightly pastel minimalism,” Michael said. “He made me question my received ideas. He set me free to have sex with whoever I wanted. He vouchsafed my moods when they didn’t wobble off axis. Ultimately, I encouraged him to write more minimalistically, keep up the emotional complexity, and sleep with anyone he wanted to — partly because I wanted to do that too.”
But in those many memorials, I’ve noticed something missing. When Michael Carroll is mentioned, it’s usually just a passing reference: “White’s partner of thirty years, twenty-five years his junior.” And yet, in the brief time I spent with this couple on Fire Island, it was clear to me that Michael was more than a footnote — he was Ed’s anchor, editor, companion, and champion. He was the one who knew his husband best.
They met in 1995 after Michael wrote Ed a fan letter to tell him he was coming to Paris. “He’d lost the great love of his life a year before,” Michael told me. “In one way, I filled a space. Understand, I worshiped this man and still do.”
When I asked whether there was a version of Ed only he knew, Michael answered without hesitation: “No sunnier human in the world, obvious to us and to people who’ve only just or never met him. No dark side. Psychology had helped erase that, I think, or buffed it smooth.”
Despite the age difference and divergent career arcs, their relationship was intellec-
Fully open, it was a committed relationship that defied conventional categories. Ed once described it as “probably like an 18th-century marriage in France.” Michael elaborated: “It means marriage with strong emotion — or at least a tolerance for one another — but no sex; sex with others. I think.”
That freedom, though, was always anchored in deep devotion and care — and a mutual understanding that went far beyond art, philosophy, or sex. “He believed in freedom and desire,” Michael said, “and the two’s relationship.”
When I asked what all the essays and articles hadn’t yet captured, Michael paused. “Maybe that his writing was tightly knotted, but that his true personality was vulnerable, and that he had the defense mechanisms of cheer and optimism to conceal that vulnerability. But it was in his eyes.”
The moment that captured who Ed was to him came at the end.
“When he was dying, his second-tolast sentence (garbled then repeated) was, ‘Don’t forget to pay Merci,’ the cleaning lady coming the next day. We had had a rough day, and I was popping off like a coach or dad about getting angry at his weakness and pushing through it. He took it almost like a pack mule.”
Edmund White’s work shaped generations — it gave us language for desire, shame, wit, and liberation. But what lingers just as powerfully is the extraordinary life Ed lived with a man who saw him not only as a literary giant but as a real person: sunny, complex, vulnerable, generous.
In the end, Ed’s final words to his husband weren’t about his books or his legacy. They were about care, decency, and love. “You’re good,” he told Michael—a benediction, a farewell, maybe even a thank-you.
And now, as the world celebrates the prolific writer and cultural icon Edmund White, it feels just as important to remember the man and the person who knew him best. Not just the story but the characters who stayed to see it through to the end.
By JOHN PAUL KING
There was a time, early in his career, that young filmmaker Wes Anderson’s work was labeled “quirky.”
To describe his blend of dry humor, deadpan whimsy, and unresolved yearning, along with his flights of theatrical fancy and obsessive attention to detail, it seemed apt at the time. His first films were part of a wave when “quirky” was almost a genre unto itself, constituting a handy-but-undefinable marketing label that inevitably became a dismissive synonym for “played out.”
That, of course, is why every new Wes Anderson film can be expected to elicit criticism simply for being a Wes Anderson film, and the latest entry to his cinematic canon is, predictably, no exception.
“The Phoenician Scheme” – released nationwide on June 6 – is perhaps Anderson’s most “Anderson-y” movie yet. Set in a nebulously dated (but vaguely mid-20th century) world, it’s the tall-tale-ish saga of Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda (Benicio del Toro), a ruthlessly amoral arms dealer and business tycoon with a history of surviving assassination attempts. The latest – a bomb-facilitated plane crash – has forced him to recognize that his luck will eventually run out, and he decides to turn over his financial empire (on a trial basis, at least) to his estranged daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton), currently a novice nun on the verge of taking her vows, in hopes of mending their relationship before it’s too late. She conditionally agrees, despite the rumors that he murdered her mother, and is drawn into an elaborate geopolitical con game in which he tries to manipulate a loose cadre of “world-building” financiers (Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Riz Ahmed, Mathieu Amalric, and Jeffrey Wright) into funding a massive infrastructure project across the former Phoenician empire.
Joined by his new administrative assistant and tutor, Mr. Bjorn (Michael Cera), Korda and Liesl travel the world to meet with his would-be investors, dodging assassination attempts along the way. His plot is disrupted, however, by the clandestine interference of a secret international coalition of nations led by an American agent code-named “Excalibur” (Rupert Friend), who seeks to prevent the shift of geopolitical power his project would create. Eventually, he’s forced to target a final “mark” for the money he needs to pull it off – his own half-brother Nubar (Benedict Cumberbatch), with whom he has had a lifelong and very messy rivalry – or lose his fortune, his oligarchic empire, and his slowly improving relationship with his daughter, all at once.
It’s clear from that synopsis that Anderson’s scope has widened far beyond the intimate stories of his earliest works – “Bottle Rocket,” “Rushmore,” “The Royal Tenenbaums,”
and others, which mostly dealt with relationships and dynamics among family (or chosen family) – to encompass significantly larger themes. So, too, has his own singular flavor of filmmaking become more fully realized; his exploration of theatrical techniques within a cinematic setting has grown from the inclusion of a few comical set-pieces to a full-blown translation of the real world into a kind of living, efficiently-modular Bauhaus diorama, where the artifice is emphasized rather than suggested, and realism can only be found through the director’s unconventionally-adjusted focus.
His work is no longer “quirky” – instead, it has grown with him to become something more pithy, an extension of the surreal and absurdist art movement that exploded in the tense days before World War II (an era which bears a far-too-uncomfortable resemblance to our own) and expresses the kind of politically-aware philosophical ideas that helped to build the world we are living in now. It is no longer possible to enjoy a Wes Anderson movie on the basis of its surface value alone; it is necessary to read deeper in the cinematic language that he has honed since the start of his career, informed by a deep knowledge of art, history, and intellectual exploration to which he pays open and unapologetic homage on the screen. Like all auteurs, he makes films that are shaped by his personal thought and vision, that follow a meticulous logic he has created himself, and that are less interested in providing entertainment than they are in providing insight into the wildly conflicted, often nonsensical, and almost always deplorable human behavior.
By typical standards, the performances in “Phoenician Scheme” – like those in most of Anderson’s films – feel stylized, distant, even emotionally cold. But within his meticulously stoic milieu, they are infused with a subtle depth that comes as much from the carefully maintained blankness of their delivery as it does from the lines themselves. Both del Toro and Threapleton manage to forge a deeply affecting bond while maintaining the detachment that is part of the director’s established style, and Cera – whose character reveals himself to be more than he appears as part of the story’s progression – begs the question of why he hasn’t become a “Wes Anderson regular” long before this. As always, part of the fun comes from the appearances of so many familiar faces, actors who have become part of an ever-expanding collection of regular players - including most-frequent collaborator Bill Murray, who joins fellow Anderson troupers Willem Dafoe and F. Murray Abraham as part of the “Biblical Troupe” that enact the frequent “near-death” episodes experienced by del Toro’s Korda throughout, and Scarlett Johansson, who shows up as a second cousin that Korda courts for a marriage of financial convenience – and the obvious commitment they bring to the project beside the rest of the cast.
But no Anderson film is really about the acting, though it’s an integral part of what makes them work – as this one does, magnificently, from the intricately choreographed opening credit sequence to the explosive climax atop an elaborate mechanical model of Korda’s dream project (a nod to Jean Renoir’s classic “The Rules of the Game,” which also examines the follies of the economic elite on the cusp of its own downfall). In the end, it’s Anderson himself who is the star, orchestrating his thoroughly-catalogued vision like a clockwork puzzle until it pays off on a note of surprisingly un-bittersweet hope which reminds us that the importance of family and personal bonds is, in fact, still at the core of his ethos.
That said, and a mostly favorable critical response aside, there are numerous critics and self-identified fans who have been less than charmed by Anderson’s latest opus, finding it a redundant exercise in a style that has grown stale and offers little substance in exchange. Frankly, it’s impossible not to wonder if they have seen the same movie we have.
“The Phoenician Scheme,” like all of its creator’s work, is ultimately an esoteric experience, a film steeped in language and concepts that may only be accessible to those familiar with them – which, far from being a means of shutting out the “unenlightened,” aims instead to entice and encourage them to explore and expand their knowledge, and with it, their perspective. It might be frustrating, but the payoff is worth it.
In this case, the shrewdly astute political and economical realities he illuminates behind the “Hollywood” intrigue and artifice touch so profoundly on the current state of our world that, despite its lack of directly queer subject matter, we’re giving it our deepest recommendation.
By TERRI SCHLICHENMEYER
You’ve done your share of marching.
You’re determined to wring every rainbow-hued thing out of this month. The last of the parties hasn’t arrived yet, neither have the biggest celebrations and you’re primed but – OK, you need a minute. So pull up a chair, take a deep breath, and read these great books on gay history, movies, and more.
You probably don’t need to be told that harassment and discrimination was a daily occurrence for gay people in the past (as now!), but “American Scare: Florida’s Hidden Cold War on Black and Queer Lives” by Robert W. Fieseler (Dutton, $34) tells a story that runs deeper than you may know. Here, you’ll read a historical expose with documented, newly released evidence of a systemic effort to ruin the lives of two groups of people that were perceived as a threat to a legislature full of white men.
Prepared to be shocked, that’s all you need to know.
You’ll also want to read the story inside “The Many Passions of Michael Hardwick: Sex and the Supreme Court in the Age of AIDS” by Martin Padgett (W.W. Norton & Company, $31.99), which sounds like a novel, but it’s not. It’s the story of one man’s fight for a basic right as the AIDS crisis swirls in and out of American gay life and law. Hint: this book isn’t just old history, and it’s not just for gay men.
Maybe you’re ready for some fun and who doesn’t like a movie? You know you do, so you’ll want “Sick and Dirty: Hollywood’s Gay Golden Age and the Making of Modern Queer-
ness” by Michael Koresky (Bloomsbury, $29.99). It’s a great look at the Hays Code and what it allowed audiences to see, but it’s also about the classics that sneaked beneath the code. There are actors, of course, in here, but also directors, writers, and other Hollywood characters you may recognize. Grab the popcorn and settle in.
If you have kids in your life, they’ll want to know more about Pride and you’ll want to look for “Pride: Celebrations & Festivals” by Eric Huang, illustrated by Amy Phelps (Quarto, $14.99), a story of inclusion that ends in a nice fat section of history and explanation, great for kids ages seven-to-fourteen. Also find “Are You a Friend of Dorothy? The True Story of an Imaginary Woman and the Real People She Helped Shape” by Kyle Lukoff, illustrated by Levi Hastings (Simon & Schuster, $19.99), a lively book about a not-often-told secret for kids ages six-toten; and “Papa’s Coming Home” by Chasten Buttigieg, illustrated by Dan Taylor (Philomel, $19.99), a sweet family tale for kids ages three-to-five.
Finally, here’s a tween book that you can enjoy, too: “Queer Heroes” by Arabelle Sicardi, illustrated by Sarah TanatJones (Wide Eyed, $14.99), a series of quick-to-read biographies of people you should know about.
Want more Pride books? Then ask your favorite bookseller or librarian for more, because there are so many more things to read. Really, the possibilities are almost endless, so march on in.
“Through
From an iPad in Amerstand to a Canvas in Amsterdam: Modlin
It is rare to step into a room where the walls ripple with Icelandic wind, hum with the volcanic heat of Hawaii, and pulse with a wide-eyed color of an Amsterdam trip. This June, West Hollywood becomes a gateway to this world with the arrival of Through the Brush, a pop-up solo exhibit by Los Angeles-based painter Andrew Max Modlin.
The show, curated by renowned critic Peter Frank, opens Saturday, June 7, with an artist’s reception from 4 p.m. to 9 p.m. and runs through June 21 in a studio located at 411 N. La Cienaga Blvd.
Expectations are high — featuring large-scale landscapes, a DJ set, libations and above all, the possibility of escape.
The paintings themselves are immersive 60” x 72” dreamscapes that pull directly from Modlin’s travels to Iceland, Hawaii, Mexico and Amsterdam. They serve as both visual memories and portals to another place in the world, inspired by his travels.
“Traveling is one of the most important things to me because it allows you to see outside your bubble and understand how diverse the world really is,” said Modlin.
He considers the places he visits as extensions of home.
By NOAH CHRISTIANSEN
“I immerse myself in what palette the location makes me feel and that immediately comes out in my drawings. It’s bringing that experience back to my studio that makes each painting so diverse because it really has the essence of that location in it.” As the show coincides with Amsterdam’s 750-year anniversary, Modlin says many of the works will be grounded in the city’s distinctive atmosphere.
To understand the intention behind Modlin’s paintings, it helps to understand the artist himself. Modlin is an openly queer artist best known as the co-founder and brand designer behind the cannabis dispensary MedMen and Kreation Organic Juicery. Though successful in business, the pull towards painting never left.
“The fact that I wasn’t painting haunted me all those years because I always felt like that was my life calling,” he said. For a change of pace, Modlin made a drastic change and relocated to Amsterdam. “In that time, I developed how I draw digitally on the iPad.”
That iPad plays an essential role in Modlin’s creative process. His digital sketches are more than rough drafts — they are explosive playgrounds.
“The iPad is where I get to be reckless,” said Modlin. “There’s something precious about a blank canvas but that sense of preciousness doesn’t exist on the iPad.” Without the fear of failure, Modlin can “rapidly sketch with colors that would take much longer to mix by hand,” pushing beyond the limits of traditional materials.
Back in Los Angeles, he focused on translation — how to bridge the digital and physical. “Once I move to the canvas,” explained Modlin. “The process shifts. It becomes more about the physicality of the paint and the act of painting itself than the original composition.”
That act is deliberate and cumulative. “My paintings are a slow, layered process where each brushstroke is a response to the one before it,” said Modlin. “The final piece becomes a record of that dialogue between gesture, surface, and duration.” His works aren’t meant to be consumed all at once — they reveal themselves slowly. Up close, hidden details emerge; from afar, emotions stir. “I hope the viewer starts by getting lost within the painting,” stated Modlin.
Modlin doesn’t see painting as a hobby — it’s a deep expression of self as his work resonates with
lived experience. “I’ve always believed in the power of starting things within our own community.” That ethos led Modlin to open MedMen in West Hollywood, making him the first queer dispensary owner in the neighborhood. “With my debut solo exhibition,” said Modlin. “It felt just as important to me that it take place in West Hollywood, the community I live in and care deeply about.”
Through the Brush may feel like a breakthrough, but for Modlin, it’s just the beginning. “For me, success now means seeing my work shown around the world, in spaces that elevate and challenge it.” As Modlin imagines his next chapter, the invitation is clear: “I’d love for that visibility to open the door to working even larger on a scale that allows for something deeply expressive and immersive.”