(Photo by Albert Sanchez)
Lil Nas X and the cost of being seen
We praised his defiance and ate up his content, but now that he’s hurting, how can we show up? What Lil Nas X’s recent struggle says about us.
By AJ SLOAN
At a time when the world feels like it’s already choking on mouthfuls of disheartening news every day - genocide on the Gaza strip, climate crisis, political descent here and abroad - the last thing any of us want to hear about is another headline on a young star reportedly hospitalized following a possible overdose. Yet here we all are, watching a very familiar pattern unfold. This time, it’s our beloved queerby Lil Nas X.
According to TMZ, Lil Nas X, né Montero Lamar Hill, was reportedly hospitalized for a possible overdose mere months after he opened up publicly about how difficult the last few years of his career have been. He took to social media, stating, “I jumped straight into adulthood with extreme fame around me. So it was really nice to be just outside walking and meeting people in the streets and eating at restaurants, just even alone, spending a lot of alone time in solitude.”
Sound familiar? It should. The razzle-dazzling surface of fame seldom shows us the internal clutter and chaos, the pressure, the expectation to always be on , meanwhile mental health is brushed aside. And for our queer artists, particularly Black queer artists like Lil Nas X, the burden becomes that much denser.
We’ve seen this before. Demi Lovato. Aaron Carter. Whitney Houston. Talented, beloved artists who, for one reason or another, found themselves unraveling under the unrelenting scrutiny and chaos that comes hand in hand with fame. Some of them make it through. Some don’t. Many cry for help ages before things reach a breaking point. But what did we do? Did we listen? Did we leave Britney alone? Or are we the ones who light the match, pull out our phones, and film the flames? For once, please don’t tag me.
Lil Nas X sashayed onto the scene not just as a chart-topping artist, but as a cultural disruptor. Diva wore dresses to award shows. He clapped his cheeks on Lucifer in the music video for Montero . He vogued his way into the conversation on gender, sexuality, religion, and race that made a whole lot of folks uncomfortable, and that was the point . We were living for it, for him . We liked, we shared, and we reposted. We ate it tf up and licked our fingers clean. But did we ever truly care?
When a person like Lil Nas X steps out of the spotlight to say, “I’ve been having a hard time,” do we respond with any empathy, or just wait around for the next head turning lewk or satanic lapdance? It’s easy to forget that behind the headlines is a real human. One with a nervous system, a childhood, a family, and so much more. And, what most often goes ignored by all, a limit.
There is something particularly painful about seeing this happen to queer people in the public eye. We’re told that visibility is freedom. And to an extent, it is. Lil Nas X became a rare symbol of queer Black excellence in mainstream media, an unapologetic icon. But visibility without protection has the potential to be fatal. Fame doesn’t guarantee safety - not physically nor emotionally. As a matter of opinion, for queer people, it’s more often than not the opposite.
When you’re queer in the spotlight, you’re performing resilience first and music second. You’re expected to rise above, to remain unbothered, to smile at all times no matter the weight of the pressure, to be a walking teachable moment at every moment. And when you break down? People either turn their backs or turn you into a meme.
FACT: mental health in the queer community is already a crisis. Study upon study have consistently shown that LGBTQ+ identifying folks are at significantly higher risk for anxiety, depression, and suicide. Add international stardom to the mix, and you don’t get immunity from this. You get fast-tracked.
And yet, we continue to lap up these public struggles like entertainment. The media machine feeds on our thirst, and we keep clicking. Headlines about a “possible overdose” become the most clicked clickbait. Tweets become jokes. Vulnerability becomes viral.
So then we have the question, what does it mean to authentically support an artist like Lil Nas X, not just when he’s on stage, but when off stage as well? When the posts stop posting. When the glitter dulls. Are we prepared to support our icons through their harder times the way we do when they’re on top of the world?
We can start by changing how we engage. Honestly take a moment to ask yourself, are you clicking on these stories to gag or to understand? Are you giving compassion or commentary? Are you holding a mic to their cry for help, or are you fetishizing their struggle?
We also need to shine a light on the entertainment industry to offer real mental health resources and protections, especially for young and marginalized artists whose career they are both responsible for and profit immensely from. Care does not come hand in hand with fame. It’s often the reason care is a concern.
We don’t know the full story of what happened with Lil Nas X, and jumping to conclusions is like eating at Chick-fil-A: only those of low intellect are tempted. But what we do know is that someone allegedly ended up in the hospital after publicly saying they were struggling. That alone should be enough to warrant concern. Not for the gossip or clicks but for simple humanity.
LIL NAS X (Photo by DFree/Bigstock)
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Be Heard: Palm Springs Pride moves forward in 2025, celebrating resilience and resistance
Despite a $325K sponsorship shortfall, Palm Springs Pride presses on, celebrating LGBTQ+ resilience, community power, and the enduring spirit of resistance.
By ROSE MONTOYA
Despite facing a $325,000 shortfall in sponsorship funding, Greater Palm Springs Pride is pressing forward with its annual four-day celebration, which draws more than 200,000 attendees and generates millions in local economic impact.
“In our specific case, 60% of our shortfall is from one sponsor in Florida where the governor has directed a pullback from supporting DEI or related programs. The other 40% is a sign of economic times,” said Ron deHarte, President of Palm Springs Pride. “Partners who have and continue to support Palm Springs Pride are experiencing tighter budgets… we are confident good partners will continue their investment in our programming.”
The funding gap underscores how critical LGBTQ+ organizations are to their communities. DeHarte noted that these groups provide services ranging from crisis intervention for homeless youth to HIV/AIDS prevention, legal aid, and safe spaces. “When funding is cut or becomes unreliable, these vital services are put at risk. This not only undermines the organizations themselves but also directly impacts the well-being and safety of the individuals they serve. This financial pressure can be seen as a modern tactic of marginalization,” he said.
But this challenge is part of a much longer history of resilience for the LGBTQ+ community. “The history of Pride is fundamentally a story of resistance. From the Stonewall Uprising’s response to police harassment and brutality, the LGBTQ+ community has always had to fight for its right to exist openly and without fear… the collective pushback against legal, social, and political forces that have sought to push LGBTQ+ people to the margins defines what the LGBTQ+ movement has represented for the last 50 years,” deHarte said. For deHarte, the shortfall is also a testament to the LGBTQ+ community’s ingenuity and self-reliance. “We are not victims. The LGBTQ+ community has a long history of fighting for its rights… The decision to proceed with Palm Springs Pride, even with fewer resources, is a testament to this spirit of self-reliance and strength. We have fought for everything we have. The rights and freedoms celebrated at Pride were not given freely; they were earned through de-
cades of activism, advocacy, and sacrifice,” he explained.
“We do what needs to be done with the resources available. This year’s event will highlight the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the LGBTQ+ community. When faced with a lack of corporate sponsorships, grassroots support and community donations will fill the void. This underscores the idea that the community’s power comes from within, not from external validation or funding. We do more with less,” deHarte said.
Even with fewer resources, organizers say the festival will remain bold, inclusive, and unapologetically political. “It is vital that we stand together and show the world that our community is strong and our fight for equality continues. This year, more than ever, Palm Springs Pride will be a vibrant and political statement and a call to action that will not be quieted,” he added.
From its roots in grassroots protest to today’s massive celebration, Palm Springs Pride demonstrates the power of community, the resilience of a movement, and the enduring spirit of resistance — proving that Pride is not just a party, but a declaration: the fight for equality continues, and the LGBTQ+ community will not be silenced. Those who want to support the festival can make a contribution online or participate in events like the Equality Walk, though attendance remains free to all.
You’ve linked the shortfall to the current political climate. When we look at the far-right media pipeline, it feels like they’re creating a lot of noise — but does that reflect reality on the ground?
In our specific case, and we point out
every Pride organization is unique, 60% of our shortfall is from one sponsor in Florida where the governor has directed a pullback from supporting DEI or related programs. The other 40% is a sign of economic times. Partners who have and continue to support Palm Springs Pride are experiencing tighter budgets. They have been supportive in the past, are continuing to be supportive today. We are confident good partners will continue their investment in our programming.
Corporations seem to react quickly to that noise, often pulling back support out of fear. Do you see that as a reflection of real public opinion, or more about how power operates in boardrooms and newsrooms?
We have heard of this happening with some very large Pride organizations across the country. But when you step back and look at the 450-500 Pride events in the United States, a very small percentage of those events have experienced the corporate retreat you mention.
Pride was born as resistance to systems of power that wanted us silent. How do you see this year’s funding shortfall fitting into that longer history of LGBTQ+ people being pushed to the margins? Has the resistance ever changed?
The history of Pride is fundamentally a story of resistance. From the Stonewall Uprising’s response to police harassment and brutality, the LGBTQ+ community has always had to fight for its right to exist openly and without fear. The root of the struggle has been about individual rights; however, the collective pushback against legal, social, and political forces that have sought to push LGBTQ+ people to the margins defines what the LGBTQ+ movement has represented for the last 50 years.
In this context, the recent funding shortfall for LGBTQ+ organizations is a deeply concerning development that fits into this long history of marginalization. It is a modern form of the same pressure that has historically been used to silence and undermine the community.
The struggle for equality continues. Funding shortfalls for LGBTQ+ organiza-
tions represents a new front in this ongoing battle. These organizations are critical, providing a range of essential services for crisis intervention for homeless youth, healthcare access and HIV/AIDS prevention, legal aid for discrimination cases and community centers that provide safe spaces. When funding is cut or becomes unreliable, these vital services are put at risk. This not only undermines the organizations themselves but also directly impacts the well-being and safety of the individuals they serve. This financial pressure can be seen as a modern tactic of marginalization, as it seeks to weaken the infrastructure that the LGBTQ+ community relies on to advocate for its rights and support its members.
The funding shortfall is not just a financial issue; it’s an issue of social justice. It highlights the continued need for vigilance and support to ensure that the progress made by the LGBTQ+ community is not rolled back.
Corporate sponsorship often comes with strings attached and can vanish in the face of political pressure. What does it take to build support that is unshakeable, rooted in actual community power rather than optics?
What sponsorship support comes with no strings attached or no risk of future investment? Grants have deliverables and restrictions, city government funding is dependent on political support, businesses want logo exposure / tickets/ recognition, and now federal grants require removal of any transgender language. One would think individuals would freely donate to their local Pride but many view Pride as a party. It would be great for individual donors to replace the funds currently provided by large money sponsors. While many Pride events are free to attend, implementing small fees for certain aspects can generate significant revenue. Tickets for specific concerts, reserved seating for the parade, or fundraisers throughout the year are also ways to shift the funding model. These are all opportunities. We need to do a better job letting the community know how they can support.
Preserving Our Truth: How Film Keeps Trans History Alive
Filmmaker Zackary Drucker reclaims trans history through her groundbreaking films, restoring erased stories, celebrating community, and inspiring hope for the future.
By ROSE MONTOYA
For decades and centuries, powerful institutions, governments, and cultural forces have deliberately erased our stories. They have tried to rewrite the record, to silence our voices, and to make our existence invisible. Today, this erasure takes new forms: laws banning trans books, curricula wiped clean of our narratives, and efforts to erase us from public life altogether. Yet despite these attacks, trans history remains alive and accessible if you know where to look and who is telling the story.
At the forefront of this resistance is artist and filmmaker Zackary Drucker. Through
her groundbreaking work, she does more than tell stories; she reclaims history. “I’m not in it for me. I’m in it for the justice. I’m in it for creating more equality. Equality is very important to me—that we all are able to live in parity with each other,” Drucker told me. This commitment animates every film, every story, and every archive she restores, reminding us that trans history is not just about remembering the past but shaping a more equitable future.
“I sought out the legends in the queer community because they made me feel anchored,” Drucker said. “Having intergenerational relationships — it’s the best stuff in life.” That instinct to look to elders, absorb their wisdom, and carry their stories forward animates all of Drucker’s work.
Take Disclosure, the 2020 documentary she co-produced, which exposes the powerful role media has played in shaping
how trans people are seen, often as stereotypes, villains, or punchlines. “As opponents to our rights assert that we popped up ten years ago,” Drucker explained, “the only offset to that is to highlight examples from deep history and say, actually, that is not true.” The film makes clear that representation is not neutral. The stories told on screens large and small have real consequences for our lives.
In Framing Agnes, Drucker turns to another hidden archive: the trans people who participated in early gender research studies in the 1960s. For years, their experiences were reduced to clinical notes and case files, erased from public memory. But through reenactment and personal testimony, she and her collaborators restore their voices. “One of us can’t do it singularly,” she said. “It really is strength in numbers.” The film becomes a reminder
that history is not lost. It is waiting in the archives, waiting to be reclaimed.
The Stroll brings us back to the streets of New York’s Meatpacking District, a vanished neighborhood where trans women of color carved out community and joy despite relentless policing and violence. The neighborhood’s erasure through gentrification mirrors broader societal attempts to erase trans lives. “Our predecessors are speaking through us at this point because we’re here,” Drucker reflected. “And I realized today — now it’s me. Now it’s you. Now we have to tell these stories. It’s up to us to keep them alive.”
Her latest work, Enigma, delves into the intertwined lives of two trans icons whose histories speak to the complexities of identity, secrecy, and legacy.
How ‘Queer Liberasian’ turns activism into an all-night party
Creator Andre Lawes Menchavez breaks down how this showcase of AAPI art became one of the biggest community organizing events in LA.
By JOEL MEDINA
In a Los Angeles nightlife stacked with countless LGBTQ+ clubs and events, there’s never been a party quite like Queer Liberasian
For more than five years this showcase of Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) artistry has been a pillar of the DTLA queer scene. A combination of community fundraiser and nonstop party, the event (which takes place 2-4 times throughout the year) promises a raging dancefloor and a stage filled with the best AAPI talent Angelinos could ask for. Starting in 2018, it quickly gained national attention; whether it be a visit from openly queer South Asian idol, Lara Raj of Katseye, or donations of free product from makeup moguls like Patrick Starr, it has risen to become one of the most celebrated evenings of cultural talent in the country. But beyond being a fun, inclusive night out, what truly sets Queer Liberasian apart? Its founder, Andre Lawes Menchavez, sat down with the LA Blade to describe how this pulse-pounding evening of communal unity began the way most great things in life do: a queer person being extra.
“[Back in 2018], I was a freshman in col-
lege,” Said Menchavez, reminiscing on the first time they hosted Queer Liberasian. “I had to do a leadership project [to create a community program] and I asked myself, ‘What do I care about?’ I thought about my organizing roots, my queer Asian identity, and how I’ve been dancing since I was a kid, and thought, ‘What’s a blend of all three of those things?’” And thus, the fundraiser was born, with the writer and community organizer turning a homework assignment into one of the most popular queer parties in LA.
Cultural nights aren’t uncommon in Los Angeles; numerous clubs, from Precinct DTLA to Beaches, boast evenings curated for specific identities and racial groups. But Menchavez’s goal was always to create something different, an evening of inclusivity that supports its patrons long after 2AM hits and they’re ushered out of the door. They clarify that profit was never the goal, saying “We’re using nightlife as an accessible way for people to get involved within community organizing…[with] 100% of ticket proceeds at every single show always going to a nonprofit.” It’s a selfless mentality (something almost entirely unheard of in
the club scene) that has provided numerous organizations with vital funds — a type of support that these groups, and those they serve, need more than ever.
“A lot of Queer Liberasian is in response to things that are happening in our climate right now,” The creator explained, delving into how the event has evolved in response to the increasingly hate-filled political climate. They detail how, with discriminatory voices becoming more and more vocal, it’s become even more important for LGBTQ+ folks to have places where they can feel truly safe in. “[Queer Liberasian] is a space of healing — it’s so hard to be out in the world, but when you come [in here], you’re swaddled with the warmth of knowing that you are accepted and seen.” They go on to describe how they’ve done things like host an “emergency party” quickly after the last election or prioritize donating funds to programs supporting the LGBTQ+-youth the current administration is targeting, all the while encouraging attendees to take the proud queer energy of this showcase into their own communities. It’s a kind of valuable, affirming organizing that reminds locals of their power while supporting nu-
merous essential causes…and, as Menchavez proudly admits, it’s only possible because of him.
Whether it’s booking talent, reserving a venue, or purchasing every visual aspect of the show with their own money, the organizer works almost completely by themself to ensure each Queer Liberasian is the best it can be. Like every advocate, Andre has moments of burnout, of wondering if this is all worth it and if they should just take a break — but their community keeps them going. “[Whenever it feels too hard] my goto is always to think about my ancestors and the people that have come before me,” they explained. “I’m Indigenous and Filipino, and both cultures have deep histories of struggle, violence, [and] queer erasure. They’ve overcome a lot, and I can, too.”
ZACKARY DRUCKER
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DNC elects new chair of LGBTQ caucus
Sean Meloy, a longtime advocate for LGBTQ representation within the Democratic National Committee (DNC) and in Pennsylvania, has been elected chair of the DNC’s LGBTQ Caucus.
Meloy has advocated for LGBTQ rights at the local, state, and national levels — serving as the DNC’s director of LGBTQ Engagement, a member of the Pennsylvania Commission on LGBTQ Affairs, a strategist with the Victory Fund to help elect more LGBTQ candidates, and a staffer for Congressman Mike Doyle of Pennsylvania’s 18th District.
“I’m honored to serve as Chair of the DNC’s LGBTQ Caucus at such a critical moment for our community, Party, and country,” said Meloy. “LGBTQ Americans have made incredible progress, but we know our rights and freedoms are under attack from Donald Trump and Republicans every day. I look forward to working with DNC leadership, and our grassroots allies to organize, mobilize, and elect Democrats who will defend equality and fight to fix a broken system that serves those already with money and power.”
As caucus chair, Meloy will lead efforts to strengthen LGBTQ political power and advance equality — a role that comes with significant challenges from the Trump admin-
istration and Republican lawmakers. Chief among them are ongoing efforts to restrict — and in some cases eliminate — federal funding for gender-affirming surgeries, part of a broader push to roll back LGBTQ rights.
The LGBTQ Caucus represents queer DNC members from across the country. Joining Meloy in leadership are Martha McDevitt-Pugh (She/Her – Dems Abroad) as Vice Chair for Operations, Matt Hughes (He/Him – NC) as Vice Chair for Civic Engagement, and Katherine Jeanes (They/ Them – NC) and Manny Crespin as Corresponding and Recording Secretaries.
“Sean has spent his career building political power for LGBTQ people and ensuring our voices are heard at every level of government,” said outgoing DNC LGBTQ Caucus Chair Earl Fowlkes (He/Him – DC). “We are thrilled to have him lead the caucus at this pivotal time.”
The DNC also elected several other LGBTQ leaders to key roles, joining Vice Chair Malcolm Kenyatta and Secretary Jason Rae on the party’s leadership team. Luis Heredia of Arizona was elected chair of the DNC Latino Caucus, while Andre Trieber was chosen to lead the Youth Council.
JOE REBERKENNY
DHS to deport trans Brazilian woman arrested in Md.
The Department of Homeland Security on Wednesday said it plans to deport a transgender Brazilian woman who U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents arrested in Silver Spring.
A video posted to Instagram shows three plain-clothed ICE agents removing Alice Correia Barbosa from her car on Aug. 23. One agent misgendered Correia before he and the two other agents placed her into an unmarked SUV.
A senior DHS official in response to the Washington Blade’s request for comment about Correia’s arrest referred to her by her birth name and described her as an “illegal alien from Brazil” who “overstayed his visa by almost six years.” The official also used male pronouns to describe Correia.
“He remained in the U.S. after his B-2 tourist visa that allowed him to remain in the U.S. for six months. Nearly six years later, he is still illegally in our country,” the official told the Blade. “Barbosa’s criminal history includes arrests possession of a controlled substance and marijuana possession. U.S. Border Patrol arrested Barbosa on Aug. 23, 2025, and he will remain in ICE custody pending removal proceedings. President Trump and Secretary Noem are committed to restoring integrity to the visa program and ensuring it is not abused to allow aliens a permanent one-way ticket to remain in the U.S.”
The Blade asked the official why they used Correia’s birth name to identify her and male pronouns to describe her.
“Because he is a man,” said the official.
Erika Hilton, a Brazilian congresswoman who is a Black travesti, on Aug. 24 said she asked the country’s Foreign Ministry to “intercede to guarantee the rights and physical integrity of Alice Correia Barbosa, a Brazilian trans woman who was arbitrarily, suspiciously, and violently arrested in the U.S.”
Hilton in her X post said Correia’s arrest is unconstitutional. Hilton further criticized the Trump-Vance administration’s overall immigration policy.
“Obviously, I don’t believe it’s fruitful to explain to the U.S. the illegalities committed by a Dorito-colored dictator’s little project,” said Hilton.
The Brazilian Foreign Affairs on Wednesday told the Blade the country’s Consulate General in D.C. “is monitoring the case, in contact with local authorities, and providing consular assistance to the Brazilian national.” Them reported Correia is in ICE custody at the Caroline Detention Facility in Virginia.
Brazil has the highest number of reported murders of trans people in the world. The State
Department’s 2024 human rights report that “erased” LGBTQ people does not mention this fact.
President Donald Trump in his inaugural speech announced the federal government’s “official policy” is “there are only two genders, male and female.” Hilton and Duda Salabert, another Brazilian congresswoman who is also trans, earlier this year said the U.S. listed their gender on their American visas as “male.”
MICHAEL K. LAVERS
Signs from the 2024 Democratic National Convention. (Blade photo by Michael Key)
Three plain-clothed ICE officers arrested ALICE CORREIA BARBOSA, a transgender woman from Brazil, on Aug. 23, 2025, while she was driving her car in Silver Spring, Md. (Instagram screenshot)
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HAROLD PHILLIPS
is incoming CEO of National Minority AIDS Council.
Claiming space, leading boldly: A new chapter in HIV fight
A time of extraordinary possibility and profound peril
I step into the leadership of the National Minority AIDS Council at a time of both extraordinary possibility and profound peril. We are living in a moment where science has given us the tools to end HIV as a public health threat—PrEP, PEP, U=U, long-acting injectables, and decades of research that have transformed what was once a death sentence into a manageable condition. And yet, the systems meant to deliver these tools are under siege. Public health is being politicized. Science is being undermined. Civil and human rights are being rolled back. The safety and security of LGBTQ+ people—especially Black and Brown queer and trans folks—are increasingly fragile. In some states, even saying the word “gay” in a classroom is considered controversial. In others, access to gender-affirming care is being stripped away. And all the while, HIV continues to disproportionately impact communities that have been historically marginalized and medically neglected.
So yes, I step into this role with a sense of urgency. But I also step in with pride. Because I know what it means to be underestimated. I know what it means to be told you don’t belong. As a Black, church-going, gay boy from the South Side of Chicago, I grew up in a world that didn’t always see me, didn’t always protect me, and certainly didn’t expect me to lead a national movement. But here I am. And I’m not alone.
I carry with me the legacy of those who came before— of Marsha P. Johnson and Bayard Rustin, of Magic Johnson and Ryan White, of the activists who lay down in the streets and shouted “Silence = Death” until the world finally listened. I carry the wisdom of Black grandmothers who raised generations through grief and grit. I carry the fire of young people who refuse to be silent, who orga-
nize, who vote, who demand better.
At NMAC, we are not just fighting a virus, we are fighting the systems that allow it to thrive. We are fighting racism in healthcare, transphobia in policy, and stigma in every corner of society. We are fighting for Black and Brown communities, for LGBTQ+ youth, for aging people living with HIV who deserve dignity, not invisibility. This is not just a job, it’s a calling. And it’s a call to action for all of us.
We must raise our voices louder than the attacks. We must claim space in rooms that were never built for us. We must demand funding that reflects the urgency of our communities’ needs. We must protect the programs that work—like Ryan White, HOPWA, and PEPFAR—and expand access to innovations like long-acting PrEP.
We must also tell the truth: that ending the HIV epidemic is not just a scientific challenge, it’s a justice challenge. It requires confronting poverty, housing insecurity, criminalization, and the erosion of civil rights. It requires centering people who live at the intersection of multiple oppressions. It requires love, radical empathy, and unapologetic leadership.
I am ready to lead. But I cannot do it alone.
To every activist, provider, policymaker, and person living with HIV: this is your movement too. Your voice matters. Your story matters. Your survival is revolutionary.
Let’s build a future where HIV is no longer a threat—not because we ignored it, but because we faced it head-on. Let’s build a future where public health is protected, science is respected, and every person—regardless of race, gender, or sexuality—can live with dignity and thrive.
Let’s build it together.
ISAAC AMEND
is a writer based in the D.C. area. He is a trans man and was featured in National Geographic’s “Gender Revolution” documentary. He serves on the board of the LGBT Democrats of Virginia. Contact him at isaacamendwrites@gmail.com or on Instagram at @literatipapi
America’s war on trans lives
What’s happening isn’t marginal or symbolic
For years, the debate over trans rights has been dismissed as just another front in America’s so-called “culture wars.” And many people on both sides of the aisle either openly or secretly think that trans people are second-class citizens. But what’s happening in 2025 isn’t marginal or symbolic. It’s an all-out war on our lives–a war that is forcing trans people in red states to move up north or to coastal cities, and a war that is even forcing some of us to move overseas.
Already this year, more than 850 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced nationwide—making 2025 the most hostile legislative year in U.S. history. More than 120 have become law, and their targets are painfully clear: trans youth, trans parents, and trans adults who dare to live openly.
In Kansas, the “Help Not Harm Act” bans gender-affirming care for minors and threatens lawsuits against providers. Iowa has gone further, stripping civil-rights protections for transgender people, banning gender marker changes, and erasing trans recognition altogether. Texas passed one of the harshest bathroom bans in the nation, imposing $25,000 fines on institutions that let trans people use restrooms matching their identity. Such a law is similar to laws in the 1950s and 1960s that banned African Americans from using the bathroom or water fountain or visiting the restaurant of their choice. And just this week, South Carolina asked the Supreme Court to reinstate its ban on trans students using restrooms aligned with their gender.
use restrooms matching their identity. Such a law is similar to ing the bathroom or water fountain or visiting the restaurant of their choice. And lives. One order redefined gender as fixed at birth, voiding federal
service members, forcing thousands of patriotic Americans out of uniform. As if that weren’t enough, the Justice Department under Attorney General Pam Bondi issued subpoenas to more than 20 hospitals, demanding records, texts, and billing information for trans youth. Families are being hunted. Providers are being silenced. These moves by government officials constitute fascism and autocracy.
The federal government has escalated this assault. Within days of returning to office, President Trump signed a suite of executive orders aimed squarely at erasing trans lives. One order redefined gender as fixed at birth, voiding federal recognition of trans people across passports, prisons, and workplaces. Another banned gender-affirming care for minors nationwide, using inflammatory rhetoric about “mutilation” to stigmatize treatment recognized by every major medical association as essential. A third re-imposed the military ban on trans
percent in just two years, according to Human summer to uphold Tennessee’s coasts and in middle America to make us (and migrants) tution—schools, hospitals, businesses—must stop hiding behind neutrality
The human toll is devastating. A 15-year-old boy recently fled Texas to Minnesota just to preserve his medical care. Hate crimes against trans people rose nearly 80 percent in just two years, according to Human Rights Watch. Suicidality among trans youth spikes in states with bans, and the Supreme Court’s decision this summer to uphold Tennessee’s care ban has deepened despair across the country. What must happen now is clear. Ironically, the fight for trans rights can best be won on a state-by-state basis and “states rights” is something that traditional conservatives tout at every turn. States must repeal their most dangerous bans and protect access to healthcare, education, and housing. Additionally, sanctuary cities must be established along both coasts and in middle America to make us (and migrants) safe. Courts must reverse their devastating endorsement of Tennessee’s ban. And every major institution—schools, hospitals, businesses—must stop hiding behind neutrality and affirm, openly and unequivocally, that trans people belong.
Corporate America, too, must end the charade. Pride sponsorships and rainbow logos mean nothing if the same companies funnel millions into the campaigns of anti-trans politicians.
Corporate America, too, must end the charade. Pride sponsorships and rainbow logos mean nothing
History will remember what we do in this moment. In 2025, America did not simply “debate” trans rights. It tried to legislate us out of existence. Whether that attempt succeeds will depend not only on trans people ourselves, but on whether the broader queer community—and our allies— rise to meet this moment.
History will remember what we do in this moment. In 2025, America did not simply “debate” trans rights. It tried to legislate us out
Belinda Carlisle on paying tribute to the California Dream in new cover album and why
being an
ally to queer people shouldn’t feel like effort
In “Once Upon a Time in California,” Carlisle recaptures the sounds she grew up around in Burbank and Thousand Oaks.
By MATT MINTON
Belinda Carlisle thought this was going to be a calm summer. She says this now was a laugh.
Back in April, Carlisle reunited with The Go-Go’s at Coachella after the band’s last performance in 2022. What struck her was the young audiences that turned out knowing all the words — not the usual demographic for the band, she tells The Blade
“It was like a feather in the cap. We got together for that festival, so I don’t think there’s going to be any more Go-Go’s, but I’ve learned you can never say never,” Carlisle says. “And I’m really blessed that people even care to talk to me, to be honest.”
But today, we’re not here to talk about The Go-Go’s. After the band’s public split in 1985, Carlisle transitioned into a high-profile solo career, one that continues with the release of her newest cover album, “Once Upon a Time in California,” on Aug. 29. As Carlisle switches gears — contributing to that not-so-calm summer she laughed about – she prepares to share tributes to iconic songs by The Carpenters (“Superstar”), Harry Nilsson (“Everybody’s Talkin”) and The Hollies (“The Air That I Breathe”) in a soulful tribute to home.
As a California native from Burbank and Thousand Oaks, Carlisle felt compelled to look back on her influences, and she started from a pool of a hundred songs. “The concept for this, first of all, were California radio songs that I loved,” Carlisle says, citing The Beach Boys. “I think we all wish we could have a time machine and go back in time … it’s more of a tribute to a dream of California and an idea.”
Carlisle hasn’t lived in California since 1994, when the devastating Northridge earthquake occurred, leaving her a spectator to the many changes the music industry has been through over the past three decades. Her new album arrives during a particularly tumultuous and deadly year for the state, with the wildfires that raged through the Palisades and the continued struggles in the film industry.
“It was inspiring to see people really step up to help others in the midst of so much loss and sadness — you could see humanity at work,” Carlisle says.
Beyond her music, Carlisle is constantly recognized for her allyship to the LGBTQ+ community. Her status as a gay icon became clear in the late ‘70s “punk days” while performing in The Go-Go’s. “My attitude was always, well, they have the best taste. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but it’s true,” she says.
One of her biggest hits, “Heaven is a Place on Earth,” even became an official queer love anthem. In 2016’s “Black Mirror: San Junipero,” the song connects the two female protagonists who fall for each other, tying the story together thematically. While Carlisle admits to never getting around to watching the episode, she still recognizes its undeniable impact.
“It brought a whole new life to that song [from 1987]. It brought a whole new demographic of fans for me,” Carlisle says. “I heard that the way it’s used was really clever. And actually, the director of the episode had to have that song — that was what the whole episode
was about. So I have to [finally] see it. I always kind of forget everything.”
A throughline in her decades-spanning career is Carlisle recognizing that allyship shouldn’t feel like a conscious effort. And that’s especially true in a year that has already seen countless attacks on queer and trans rights.
“Most of my friends are gay and lesbian, and I just always felt a real duty to do what I could,” Carlisle says. “I know that I will always continue to do what I can to be a voice for the community, especially having a son that’s being affected by all this.”
BELINDA CARLISLE (Photo by Albert-Sanchez)
‘Twinless’ pushes boundaries with darkly comedic ‘bromance’
One of several queer hidden gems hitting screens in September
By JOHN PAUL KING
Let’s face it, the movies have never really been great at representation when it comes to twins.
Sure, Luke and Leia are technically twins in the “Star Wars” movies, but that’s more of a plot point than a relationship to be authentically explored; there are also the precocious pair of twin sisters in two iterations of “The Parent Trap” (Hayley Mills or Lindsay Lohan, take your pick), whose separated-at-birth backstory makes a great premise for a zany identity swap comedy while really having very little to do with the lived experience of most real-world twins.
Far more numerous are the darker portrayals: Bette Davis as a twin who murders her sister in “Dead Ringer”; “Jeremy Irons as a pair of drug-addicted, psychosexually manipulative twin gynecologists who use their practice to prey on women in “Dead Ringers”; and perhaps the most iconic (and scary) of all screen twins, the nightmarishly adorable ghosts of the slain Grady girls (Lisa and Louise Burns) in “The Shining.”
These are just the examples that first spring to mind, but they reflect a consistent pattern in which the presence of twins in a movie is almost always to serve as a plot device, either to fuel a comedy-of-errors farce of mistaken identities, to play out some symbolic “Jekyll/Hyde” melodrama about the inner conflict of good and evil, or simply just to be creepy. If there were a Bechdel Test for twins, Hollywood would be failing on all counts – and while there’s a reason some of these titles are classics, we can’t help thinking that there are a lot of twins out there who would like to see a movie about what it’s actually like to be a twin.
Ironically enough, the long-buzzed Sundance favorite “Twinless” – in theaters as of Sept. 5 – might come close to fulfilling that need, though it draws from nearly all the tropes discussed above, and despite the fact that both of its leading men have (as the title hints) already lost their twins at the beginning of the story.
We first meet Roman (Dylan O’Brien) shortly after the sudden death of his brother Rocky – from whom he had grown distant – in a traffic accident; angry, emotional, and reeling with the loss, he finds a grief management group for twins who have lost their twins, and connects with another recently bereaved newcomer, the wry and quirky Dennis (James Sweeney, who also wrote and directed the film). The two quickly form a bond of support, filling the void left in their lives by shopping for groceries and eating meals together. Den-
nis becomes a kind of “surrogate twin” – he’s even gay, just like Rocky was! – and Roman’s outlook begins to improve as they grow more and more inseparable.
Things start to get a little weird, however, when Dennis takes Roman to a Halloween party (they go dressed as characters from “The Sims” video game, it’s cute) hosted by work friend Marcie (Aisling Franciosi) and there’s a spark of attraction. Dennis becomes jealous, bringing an uncomfortable awkwardness into their relationship, and he becomes suspicious that his new companion may not have been entirely honest, neither about the true nature of his feelings nor the shared tragedy that brought them together.
To go further would be a spoiler – and “Twinless” is definitely a movie that should be seen “spoiler-free” – so we won’t tell you more. What we will tell you is that what starts out feeling like a heartwarming, feel-good story about two people helping each other move beyond tragedy turns several sharp corners on its way to the end, swerving from bittersweet comedy to endearingly offbeat bromance before veering into mystery and psychodrama as the secrets begin to emerge; we can also tell you that they’re probably not the secrets you think they are.
And if all that feels a bit cryptic, don’t worry; “Twinless” actually divulges its biggest “twist” early on, so everything which follows (mostly, at least) plays like the dark-edged but tender-hearted dramedy it is – except, perhaps, with a somewhat darker edge than before.
Sweeney – whose first feature film (2020’s “Straight Up”) also explored themes of unorthodox love and romance – drives the movie both from behind the camera and in front of it. As a writer/director, he draws on a hodgepodge of styles and contrasting tones to create something that exists in the overlap between quirky love story and unsettling psychological thriller; there’s a macabre humor that spreads beyond the the death at the center of its premise and drapes itself around the star-crossed urban romance of its plot. It’s a discordant mix, perhaps; but instead of jarring us, it evokes a complexity of emotion that is perhaps less threatening than it is challenging, a suspended chord that makes us yearn for completion that may never come. And yet, for all of that, it also manages to be funny, sweet, heartfelt, dramatic, joyful, delicate, and all the other things we look for in a story about love, loss, and the need for human connection.
Likewise, as an actor, Sweeney’s Dennis is the engine that keeps the movie running; mastering the art of deadpan heartbreak with an air of sassy self-candor, he takes over the narrative – literally – from an early point, earning our sympathy even when his motives and his honesty are called into question. Yet while he subtly displaces O’Brien’s Roman as the primary focus (a neat transference of identification that neatly mirrors the film’s theme about the shared identity between twins), he humbly plays the foil to O’Brien’s showier, more intensely emotional performance, allowing his co-star to shine with complex portrayals of not just the grief-muddled Roman, but (via flashbacks, of course) of his sexy, self-actualized gay twin Rocky – an impressive continuation of the actor’s evolution from unlikely junior heartthrob (on MTV’s “Teen Wolf”) into a solid, savvy, and fearlessly soulful leading man.
As for the way the film represents twins, it’s perhaps best to see it metaphorically –there’s an inherent need for an “other” to complete the self, a bond of love that might even be described as a “fraternal romance,” and which may be complicated by questions of sexuality but ultimately transcends them. Roman and Dennis may each be seeking their “replacement” twins, but what they are really after is the same thing we all long for – love and connection in a lonely world.
Though at times it feels transgressive, asking us to forgive sins that feel unforgivable in an age when every perceived slight is just cause for outrage, “Twinless” imagines a pathway back to basics, out of the tangled web of identity and custom to an understanding that yes, love is truly just love – and it defies labels, limitations, or legality. That makes it an unabashedly queer movie, even if one of its leading male characters is straight.
A refreshingly unique piece of cinema that reminds us of how much we all belong to each other, “Twinless” is one of several queer “hidden gems” hitting screens in September. We encourage you to place it near the top of your list.
DYLAN O’BRIEN and JAMES SWEENEY in ‘Twinless.’ (Image courtesy of Lionsgate Roadside Attractions)
New book explores contributions of African Americans to settling of the West Horses have been hiding in plain sight in Black history for centuries
By TERRI SCHLICHENMEYER
One thousand, two hundred pounds and four legs.
Put that between your knees and you’ll find out what real horsepower is. You’re five feet off the ground, moving as fast as a car on a downtown street, hooves pounding as hard as your heart. Dangerous? Maybe. But as you’ll see in “Mounted” by Bitter Kalli, your ancestors did it and so can you.
When they were a young child, “around the age of six or seven,” someone gave Bitter Kalli a set of “pony books,” the kind that appeal to young girls, mostly white ones. Kalli wasn’t entirely comfortable identifying as a girl then but they adored the books, in part because the stories featured the kinds of friendships and acceptance Kalli wanted. After devouring those stories, they begged their parents for riding lessons from a nearby Brooklyn stable.
Fast forward to 2014, when Kalli was 17 years old, an experienced equestrian, a trans individual, and a protester at college. During that protest, they watched the horses that carried the police, and wondered what those animals saw in the crowd.
For that matter, what did horses see throughout Black history?
In times of slavery, it was not uncommon for fleeing slaves to steal a horse or two to get away faster. Kalli shares heart-pounding tales of escape, sharing examples of how human chattel was often compared to that of equines in newspaper ads, as slaveholders mourned the latter loss much deeper than the former.
Many Americans are unaware of the rich contributions that African Americans made to the settling of the West. Kalli examines a popular movie, deconstructing it and adding real history to the Hollywood tale.
“What we know as the Wild West would not exist without the 182,000 enslaved people living in Texas in 1860…” they say.
Horses are featured in many of the world’s religions. Horsey language lends itself to the erotic. Even, says Kalli, “Black and brown youth in Brooklyn” understood the appeal of a good-looking Polo pony…
Take a good study of the cover of “Mounted.” Appreciate the artwork, notice the design. Then add this book to your “Things I Never Really Thought About” list, because you’ll think about it now. And you’re going to want to read every delicious word.
Horses have been hiding in plain sight in Black history for centuries, but author Bitter Kalli pulls them to the forefront, turning each facet of the subject over for deeper examination and additional thought. Happily, you won’t feel forced to do that; their writing comes across like an invitation to a warm, intimate conversation, the kind you get while casually hanging out with a new group of friends on the patio. What you learn is highly intriguing, and you won’t ever see horses in the same way again.
Beware that this book has one explicit chapter inside, but it fits the narrative and you won’t mind. You’ll be too busy enjoying what you read and wanting more. For horse lovers and history lovers alike, “Mounted” is the perfect ride.
‘Mounted: On Horses, Blackness, and Liberation’
By Bitter Kalli | c.2025, Amistad | $22 | 192 pages
Shaking up West Hollywood: Prince Joshua drops new single, ‘QUAKE’
The go-go personality and local music favorite celebrates self-expression and queer joy with a bold new release
By ROSE MONTOYA
In the vibrant heart of West Hollywood’s nightlife, one name has become synonymous with electric performances and fearless self-expression: Prince Joshua. Known for his jaw-dropping gogo routines at world-famous venues like The Abbey, Joshua has long captivated queer bar-goers up and down the West Coast. But lately, it is not just his moves turning heads, it is his music.
Fresh off a double win at the Los Angeles Blade’s Readers Choice Awards, where he was named “Go-Go of the Year” and “Local Music Artist of the Year,” Joshua is keeping the momentum alive with his latest release, “QUAKE.” Dropping on his birthday, August 20, the high-energy single and self-directed music video are a celebration of individuality, confidence, and shaking off insecurities.
“‘QUAKE’ is for the bad bitches,” Joshua says with a smile. “It is about owning what makes you unique, living for your own approval, and letting go of anything that holds you back.”
This release follows the success of his debut EP Crowned, which dropped in January and offered a raw yet playful exploration of queer nightlife, dating, and self-love. The project’s six tracks and three music videos blended club-ready beats with deeply personal lyrics, marking Joshua’s arrival as a recording artist with something to say.
Joshua’s artistry is rooted in his background as a performer. Originally from a small conservative town, his move to Los Angeles was an act of both self-preservation and self-celebration. “I grew up in a world that wasn’t made for someone like me,” he says. “But West Hollywood was made for people who express themselves through fashion, who are unapologetically queer. Here, the things I was bullied for are the things that are celebrated.”
He brings that same spirit to the stage, whether performing at WeHo Pride, SUMMERTRAMP, or in intimate club settings. His shows mix choreography, stunts, toe touches, splits, and costume changes, proving that gogo dancing is performance art at its finest. “While I respect the sex work industry, what I do is different. My performances come from a cheer background and combine music, movement, and fashion into one high-energy package.”
With “QUAKE,” Joshua takes his vision even further. He wrote, produced, directed, and styled the project himself, weaving together elements of cheerleading, twerking, and bold visuals that radiate Leo-season confidence. It is a one-man production that showcases his versatility and commitment to his craft.
As he looks ahead to his next EP and more collaborations with fellow queer artists, Joshua’s message remains consistent. “Every day you get a chance to be yourself and inspire others to do the same,” he says. “This world is not always kind to us, but we have each other. So take up space, use your voice, share your art, and never let anyone dim your light.”
With moves that dazzle, bars that bite, and a creative vision that refuses to be boxed in, Prince Joshua is proving there is more than one way to rule the stage. And with “QUAKE,” he is making sure everyone feels the aftershocks.
