What does longing for your child look like? What happens when they resurface in front of you, when that rift was once an immeasurable open sea — a searing pain that silently hollowed you out for decades? For the child wrenched away by circumstance and thrown into the purgatory of always feeling in-between: in between home, in between being a whole person, in between who you could have been and who you are now — what does it mean to become and belong?

In filmmaker Jota Mun’s documentary Between Goodbyes, the fragmented yearning for home, family and identity are woven together into a tremendous and at times dream-like contemplation of the self, focused on various family members set adrift by a deceitful international adoption machine. 

The story is focused on Mieke Murkes, a queer Korean adoptee who grew up in the rural village of Vaassen in the Netherlands. Shortly after her birth in 1982, she was raised by Willy, a devout evangelical Christian woman. But the story does not begin with Mieke in Vaassen. It begins with Okgyun, her original mother, walking through an ephemeral meadow as she makes her way to a shoreline. This is our first point of loss. 

It is important to understand how the stories of Okgyun and Mieke exist. In Between Goodbyes, we see a frustrating glimpse into the cultural and political forces that created this separation. Since 1955, 200,000 children have been adopted from South Korea, and just three years ago, several of these adoptees found that their documents had been falsified. Murkes would sift through her own papers in Between Goodbyes, noting their dull and rote descriptions of her physical appearance and health. “The paperwork is as if you’re buying a new car,” Murkes says. 

Written nearby: “Both parents are unknown,” a falsehood that leaves the family breathless. It is a gut punch. 

This March, a South Korean governmental agency admitted that it had violated the rights of adoptees, but an investigation that began in 2022 at the behest of over 350 Korean adoptees has been halted. Whether or not retribution can ever be paid is up in the air, but the reeling grief and complicated self-reckoning many of these adoptees and their families face are rendered and expressed with deep tenderness in Mun’s documentary. “I did not know how to fit the Korean part of me in there,” Murkes said. 

When Okgyun was pregnant with Mieke, she was also raising three other daughters: Mijin, Mikyung and Taekyung. The population was booming, and mothers like herself were being shamed for continuing to have children. Considering abortion, Okgyun recounts a midwife who convinced her not to go through with it — that if the child were a boy, she should keep him. If it turned out to be a girl, she could give her away to live “a good life” in the U.S. “Men are always positioned above women,” Okgyun said. “I always hated that.” 

After Mieke was born, Okgyun’s mother-in-law told her to give her away. “She was gone before I saw her face,” Okgyun said. “I let her go.” Her guilt tightens her throat, trembles in her voice. “I dreamed of Mieke a lot. I can’t tell you how many times,” Okgyun said. “Dreaming and forgetting, dreaming and forgetting. The thought that kept me going is that one day I can find Mieke.” 

What ensued was a several years-long search. Kwangho, Mieke’s original father, pleaded with an adoption agency for any leads about Mieke. They denied him several times and his desperation only grew. “I had to find her to be at peace before I die,” he said. 

Meanwhile, Mieke’s own grief and confusion were compounding. When she was beginning to discover her queerness, she was deeply ingrained in local religious spaces. What made her feel free, the church treated as an aberration — as behavior that resulted from loss. 

When she would eventually meet her original family, they, too, had trouble processing her queer identity and masculine presentation. To them, queerness was “acquired” from being raised in a foreign land. With time, they grew to embrace Mieke and her partner, Marit, even as misunderstandings arose. Of this, Mieke’s conflictedness is explored. Gay rights are more advanced and accepted in the Netherlands than in South Korea, but this does not mean contending with her queerness would have been easy with her adoptive mother, Willy. “It probably would have disappointed her a lot,” Mieke tearfully revealed.

Mieke’s stepping in between knowing and unknowing is reminiscent of Okgyun’s dreaming and forgetting — their grief and confusion move within them, replicating themselves over and over again. Between Goodbyes dives deeply into this in order to offer a portrait of healing: of its complications and the necessity of community support to achieve this. 

Mun discusses the film with the Blade, diving into how reunification between adoptees and original family members is, in many ways, made nearly impossible by factors like language and cultural barriers enforced and held tightly in place by the international adoption system. This film illustrates a break in this narrative and the mighty efforts behind it all.

A broadcast version of Between Goodbyes is now available to stream on PBS. See below for more information.

Can you tell me about the inception of making Between Goodbyes? Have you always wanted to tell a story about international Korean adoption from a queer perspective?

As a queer Korean adoptee myself, [there are] so many intersections that I haven’t quite seen on screen before. So I was always really excited about making something about my community. And then I’d say, in 2017, is around when I started getting closer to zeroing in on the idea. I think part of it was through befriending Mieke and hearing her parents’ story. Hearing about their efforts really blew my mind. 

So much of the standard narrative is that adoptees initiate the search. So even before meeting [Okgyun and Kwangho], it just felt like it spoke so loudly of not only their character, but a piece of the puzzle that I had never considered — that they could be longing for us. And I think as an adoptee, you always wonder what [your original parents] would think. So it’s very noticeable that we almost don’t ever hear from them directly. Even in narrative stories of adoption, they’re usually deleted, or they’re written in a really flat way that feels like they’re serving the plot. I’ve never seen a depiction of birth mothers in particular who are questioning their own circumstances or feel angry about it.

There’s a lot of nuance given to all of the different people that we see in the story. The pain is layered and deep, and we don’t just view it from one perspective. What was it like having to portray this hurt, when many adoption stories typically focus solely on the adoptee’s emotional and personal journey?

It’s so unique through each lens, even though it’s the same pain. Like her sisters — of course, it’s going to affect them. Even if she never said anything, they must have felt it. It just ripples out to everyone and keeps expanding. 

Originally, it was focused on Mieke, because that’s who I had the most access to, and she’s the closest to me in terms of general identity markers. So in my mind, I felt more confident that I could tell her story in a nuanced way. But what about Okgyun? I was hitting a similar barrier of communication that Mieke had hit. That’s part of why our main producer, Zoe Sua Cho, was so essential in conveying more about Okygun and the original family’s side of the story. 

When I was in the early stages of developing the film, there was a quote that I felt was really inspirational: “In our hurting, we did not realize that we were stolen from each other” (by SN Désirée Cha from Outsiders Within Writing on Transracial Adoption). The same quote came back to me in the edit and helped us find a narrative structure that went beyond just one person’s perspective. 

What if the main character is the collective trauma, a singular event that causes the family to splinter and suffer across decades? I wanted to explore how tempting it is in these moments of righteous anger at systemic problems to end up fighting with each other. I feel like they both had to mourn something that was so much bigger than any one family. Mieke’s adoption affected so many people that I almost wanted that to be the main character. How do we not get lost in that pain and still try to come back together? It’s too much to carry alone. 

So the main character is not necessarily one person, but the issue that you’re trying to tackle throughout the story. It also makes me think about how the documentary itself, or the making of it, also participates in this community healing that I feel like was the focus of Between Goodbyes.

I hope it’s an important layer. Suffice to say I think I always deflect to name a singular main character. I wanted to show everyone’s point of view while of course highlighting especially Okgyun and Mieke. 

What else can you share about your approach to filmmaking?

You know, I was on this wonderful panel earlier this year, hosted by A-DOC, and I kind of surprised myself in preparing for it. I realized, actually, I have a lot of strong beliefs on filmmaking ethics that I hope come through in the film. For example, I reject the genius artist myth. The fantasy that if an artist is talented enough, they get permission to treat everyone around them terribly. That exploitation and squeezing things out of people is the best way to make great art. 

Instead, I want to believe that the sensitivity, the care, and emotional work I poured in is going to come shining through in the film. And I do think that’s part of why we witnessed so many intensely vulnerable moments that I couldn’t have predicted.

This emotional connection to the film is also, visually, represented in artistic and inventive ways. There are sequences interspersed throughout that feel dream-like and cinematic. Creatively, what was it like to structure and craft how you wanted those scenes to be, the weight that they carried, and why you wanted to represent them in that way?

Aw, thanks for saying so! I was clear from the beginning that I wanted certain moments in the film to look as cinematic and epically life-changing as they feel in real life. Because visually, sometimes these moments of heartbreak can look rather dull. The deep heartbreak of a farewell at the airport. What does it look like? It looks like two people hugging in a very normal-looking terminal. But that’s not what it feels like. It feels larger than life. So to me, every single one of the art [scenes] has a very literal symbolism in my mind.

I really enjoy the complexity given to the family, both through the artistic symbolism and through the different angles we get to view them in. When it comes to Mieke’s queer identity, there are varying levels of acceptance and also tension that co-exist. One of her sisters, Mikyung, skirts around terms and labels, instead saying Mieke is “like that,” and “I don’t know anyone like that.” There was this feeling that queerness is learned or acquired elsewhere — that Mieke “wouldn’t have turned out like that” if she had grown up with her original family in Korea.

I can’t be sure what they were implying but you know, I definitely didn’t want to fall into a common trope of seeing Western values as being so liberal and accepting and framing all other cultures as homophobic. I want to be clear that there is a queer community in Seoul. It’s not the same as Amsterdam, of course, but it does exist. 

That’s part of why it was important for me to include Mieke mentioned what she thinks her Dutch mom would have thought — just to clarify that homophobes are everywhere. There are plenty of them here in the West as well. Mieke’s Dutch parents were Evangelist Christians. So it’s not like everyone in the West is free to be a lesbian, you know?

Another moment that struck me in the film was a moment where we, as the audience, get to see you clearly. In this scene, we see you and Mieke on a rooftop, and you’re consoling her as she’s trying to prepare for a difficult conversation with her original mother, Okgyun. Did you have to find a balance in terms of being the director of this film and being Mieke’s friend?

It was really important to me to show friendship and how much that can help you along the journey. You think that for her to emotionally process things, it would have to be with her mom. But that rooftop conversation felt so transformative in itself. And then what ended up being the kind of mirror scene to that was Okgyun talking to Ruth [a fellow original mother]. She needed a buddy, too. How many times in life are we like: The opposing party doesn’t need to get it, but if my friend just could — that would give me so much relief and patience to enter the actual conversation with the person I’m upset with. 

Being so personally close to Mieke and her family meant that my film was about all people I loved and cared about. I think the documentary field comes from such a long history of an anthropological approach. It’s like, “I’ve helicoptered in, and I just met you, but I’m the expert artist.” I wish the ethos were the opposite; we need to care about everyone, from the participants to the crew. I don’t want the blood, sweat, and tears to come through on the screen. I hope that watching it makes people feel cloaked in tenderness and care.

I was so worried about everyone, probably too much. It’s such a weird thing to ask people to do, to be in a film, so I took that with a lot of responsibility. Be aware of the impact you’re having. I am having an effect on this family’s life. I almost wanted to be like: “Forget my art project.” This is about the rest of their lives as a family, and that’s more important. So it became a light on my path, trying to make decisions as best I could to have a positive impact on their relationship. 

It almost made me question my ethics in a different direction. “Am I intervening too much?” And that’s a strange thing: I have to admit I exist. I’m not a fly on the wall. And I think that’s why the conversation on the roof was really the most vulnerable for me, because I was showing myself. I’ve actually been here the whole time, cheering them on or trying to diffuse tension. I set out to make a film about how hard it is to stay in reunion, but now I’ve realized I’ll be heartbroken if their reunion doesn’t last. So in many ways the film was really just a vehicle for my attempt at keeping us all connected across so many distances, and that’s my own emotional journey or connection to their story.

Mun plans to release the full-length film in 2026, along with deleted scenes and additional footage. Up-to-date information can be found on the film’s Instagram page.

Kristie Song is a California Local News Fellow placed with the Los Angeles Blade. The California Local News Fellowship is a state-funded initiative to support and strengthen local news reporting. Learn more about it at fellowships.journalism.berkeley.edu/cafellows.

Cynthia Erivo, Eva Victor and Miley Cyrus are among this year’s Golden Globes nominees, bringing queer representation into an awards race that needs it.

While Ethan Hawke was expected to get in for his lead performance as Lorenz Hart in Blue Moon, Richard Linklater’s film surprised by receiving a Best Picture Musical or Comedy nomination (Andrew Scott didn’t make the competitive supporting actor category). Eva Victor for Sorry, Baby and Tessa Thompson for Hedda got in for Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Motion Picture Drama, while their films weren’t represented elsewhere. And in the Best Original Song category, Miley Cyrus was nominated for her Avatar: Fire and Ash end credit song Dream As One.

In notable omissions, Wicked: For Good missed a Best Picture Musical or Comedy nomination, signifying that the film will not repeat the same Oscar success of the first despite Cynthia Erivo (who missed at the Critics Choice) and Ariana Grande getting in here. Erivo notably made history as the first Black actress to nab two lead actress nominations in the Musical or Comedy category. It’s also rare for two performers to get nominated in back-to-back years for playing the same character. The first film wasn’t eligible for original song awards since it exclusively featured Broadway music, but Stephen Schwartz was nominated for writing the sequel’s two new songs, No Place Like Home and The Girl in the Bubble. Another surprising omission for a Best Picture Musical or Comedy nomination was the JLo-led Kiss of the Spider Woman, featuring a central queer storyline.

The Golden Globe nominations are an official indicator that this year’s awards race doesn’t feature many openly queer actors or filmmakers, and Erivo, Thompson and Victor are all competing in a competitive best actress category that includes the likes of Rose Byrne, Jessie Buckley, Emma Stone, Chase Infiniti and Amanda Seyfried. That makes their inclusion in the ultimate Oscar line-up unlikely.

Some of these queer films have been more celebrated at the Independent Spirit Awards, where Peter Hujar’s Day led the film categories with five nominations, including for Ira Sachs as director and Ben Whishaw in lead performance. Sorry, Baby and Lurker each received four nominations, while Twinless received three nominations. Thompson was also recognized by the Indie Spirits, while Victor received a Best Original Screenplay nomination at the Critics Choice Awards for writing Sorry, Baby.

Over on the TV side, Emmy winner Hannah Einbinder was once again nominated for her supporting role for Hacks, and the show overall landed three nominations for its fourth season. The Last of Us star Bella Ramsey was nominated for Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Television Series Drama, although the show didn’t land any other nominations for its divisive second season. While most of these nominations carry over from the Emmys, Pluribus (which is still airing) found its way into the Best Television Series Drama category, indicating that it may be a serious threat for next year’s Emmy awards.

The full list of Golden Globe nominees is available here.

The 83rd Annual Golden Globes will stream live Sunday, January 11, 2026, at 5 PM PT / 8 PM ET on CBS and Paramount+.

Some gifts scream practical, others whisper luxury, and a few flat-out blur the lines. From cocoa that feels ceremonial to a cologne that linger like a suggestive smirk, this year’s ultimate gift picks prove that thoughtful (and occasionally naughty) presents don’t have to be prosaic. Welcome to your holiday cheat sheet for festive tangibles that get noticed, remembered, and maybe even result in a peck of gratitude planted under the mistletoe. Consensually, of course.

Amber Glass Champagne Flutes

Pop the champs – but make it vintage. These tulip-shaped stunners in amber-tinted glass bring all the Gatsby vibes without the Jazz-age drama. Whether you’re toasting a milestone or celebrating a Tuesday, their seven-ounce capacities and hand-wash-only care make ‘em as practical as they are pretty. Pair with a thoughtful bottle of bubs and gift with a glittering wink. $18, NantucketLooms.com

Disaster Playbook by Here Comes the Apocalypse

Because the end of the world shouldn’t be a solo act, this spiral-bound guide is your step-by-step roadmap to surviving and thriving when everything else goes sideways, which might be sooner than you think. Packed with checklists, drills, and a healthy dose of humor, it’s like a survival manual written by your most prepared (and slightly snarky) friend. Whether you’re prepping for a zombie apocalypse or, more realistically, REVOLUTION!, this playbook’s got your back. $40, HereComesTheApocalypse.com

Wickless Vulva Candles

Bold, luxurious, and completely flame-free, CTOAN’s wickless candles melt from beneath on a warmer, releasing subtle, sophisticated fragrances, like sandalwood or lavender. The vulva-shaped wax adds a playful, provocative element to any space –perfect for a bedroom, living room, or anywhere you want elegance with an edge. A gift that celebrates form, intimacy and self-expression, no fire required. $39, CTOANCO.com

Villeroy & Boch Royal Classic Christmas Collection

Every meal is a mini celebration – with whimsy at every place setting – in Villeroy & Boch’s Royal Classic festive dinnerware collection that hits all the right notes. Made from premium German porcelain, it features nostalgic little toys, nutcrackers, and rocking horses in delicate relief, giving your holiday spread a playful but refined twist. Dishwasher- and microwave-safe, it’s luxe without the fuss. Gift a piece to a special someone, or start a collection they’ll use (and show off) for years to come. $22-$363, Villeroy-Boch.com

Greenworks Electric Lawnmower

You a ’hood queen who considers lawn care performance art – or just wants to rule the cul-de-sac in quiet, emission-free glory? Greenworks’ zero-turn electric mower has the muscle of a 24-horsepower gas engine but none of the fumes, drama or maintenance. Six 60V batteries and a 42-inch deck mean you can mow up to two-and-a-half acres on a single charge – then plug in, recharge, and ride again. It’s whisper-quiet, slope-ready, and smooth enough to make you wonder why you ever pushed anything besides your queer agenda. The perfect gift for the homeowner who loves sustainability, symmetry, and showing off their freshly striped yard like that fresh fade you get on Fridays. $5,000, GreenworksTools.com

Molekule Air Purifier

For the friend who treats their space like a sanctuary (or just can’t stand sneezes), the Molekule Air Pro is magic in motion. Covering up to 1,000 square feet, it doesn’t just capture allergens, VOCs, and smoke – it destroys them, leaving your air feeling luxury-clean. FDA-cleared as a Class II medical device, it’s serious science disguised as modern design. Gift it to your city-dwelling, pet-loving, candle-burning friend who likes their living room as pristine as their Instagram feed. $1,015, Molekule.com

Cipriani Prosecco Gift Set

Effervescent with stone-fruit sweetness and a touch of Italian flair, the Cipriani Bellini & Prosecco gift set brings brunch-level glamour to any day of the week. The Bellini blends rich white-peach purée with sparkling wine, while the dry ’secco keeps things crisp and celebratory. Pop a bottle, pour a flute, and suddenly winter weeknights feel like a party – even with your pants off. $36, TotalWine.com

Woo(e)d Cologne

British GQ recently crowned Woo(e)d by ALTAIA the “Best Date Night Fragrance,” and honestly, they nailed it. Confident without being cocky – smoky gaïac and Atlas cedarwood grounds the room while supple leather and spicy cardamom do all the flirting – it’s a scent that lingers like good conversation and soft candlelight. Gift it to the one who always turns heads – or keep it for yourself and let them come to (and then on) you. $255, BeautyHabit.com

Lococo Cocoa Kit

Keep the run-of-the-mill mugs in the cabinet this Christmas and pull out Lococo’s handcrafted Oaxacan versions that demand you slow down and sip like it matters. Paired with a wooden scoop, rechargeable frother, and Lococo’s signature spice hot-chocolate blend (vegan, gluten-free, with adaptogenic mushrooms), this holiday kit turns Mexi-cocoa into a mini ritual you’ll look forward to. Perfect for anyone who loves a little indulgence with a side of ¡A huevo! energy.

Manta Sleep Mask

Total blackout, zero pressure on the eyes, and Bluetooth speakers built right into the straps, this ain’t your mama’s sleep mask — but it could be. The Manta SOUND sleep mask features C-shaped eye cups that block every hint of light while ultra-thin speakers deliver your favorite white noise, meditation, or late-night playlist straight to your ears. With 24-hour battery life, breathable fabric, and easy-to-adjust sound, it turns any bed (or airplane seat)

Shacklelock Necklace

Turn the industrial-chic vibe of a shackle into a sleek statement. Mi Tesoro’s platinum-plated stainless-steel necklace sits on an 18-inch wheat chain, featuring a shackle-style latch pendant that’s waterproof, tarnish-free, and totally fuss-les. Beyond style, it nods to a classic gesture in the queer leather community: replacing a traditional Master lock with something elegant to quietly signal belonging to someone special. Wear it solo for a minimalist edge or layer it like you mean it; either way this piece locks in both your look and your intentions. $90, MiTesoroJewelry.com

Parkside Flask Mojave Edition

Wine nights get a desert glow-up with Parkside’s limited-edition 750-milliliter all-in-one flask draped in sun-washed bronze and badland hues like sage, sand, and terracotta – with magnetic stemless tumblers that snap on for effortless shareability. It keeps your vino chilled for 24 hours, pours without drips (no tears for spilled rosé, please), and even let

Mikey Rox is an award-winning journalist and LGBT lifestyle expert whose work has published in more than 100 outlets across the world. Connect with him on Instagram @mikeyroxtravels.

‘Night People’
By Mark Ronson
c.2025, Grand Central
$29/256 pages

You just can’t hold still.

The music starts and your hips shake, your shoulders bounce, your fingers tickle the sky to match a beat. Your air guitar is on-point, your head bops and your toes tap. You can’t help it. As in the new memoir, “Night People” by Mark Ronson, you just gotta dance.

With a mother who swanned around with rock bands, a father who founded a music publishing company, and a stepfather who founded the band, Foreigner, it was natural that Mark Ronson would fall into a music career of some sort. He says he was only 10 years old when he realized the awesome power of music.

As a pre-teen, he liked to mix music in his stepfather’s studio. As a teenager, he formed a band with Sean Lennon that didn’t quite catch on. In the fall of his senior year of high school, Ronson began sneaking into Manhattan clubs to listen to music, dance, and find drugs. It was there that he noticed the alchemy that the DJs created and he searched for someone who’d teach him how to do that, too. He became obsessed.

Finding a gig in a New York club, though, was not easy.

Ronson worked a few semi-regular nights around New York City, and at various private parties to hone his skills. His mother purchased for him the electronic equipment he needed, turntables, and amps. He befriended guys who taught him where to get music demos and what to look for at distributor offices, and he glad-handed other DJs, club owners, and music artists.

That, and the rush he got when the dance floor was packed, made the job glamorous. But sometimes, attendance was low, DJ booths were located in undesirable places, and that totally killed the vibe.

Some people, he says, are mostly day people. For others, though, sunlight is something to be endured. Nighttime is when they when they feel most alive.

Part esoteric hip-hop discography, part biography, part SNL’s Stefan, and part cultural history, “Night People” likely has a narrow audience. If you weren’t deep into clubbing back in the day, you can just stop here. If you were ages 15 to 30, 30 years ago, and you never missed club night then, keep reading. This is your book.

Author Mark Ronson talks the talk, which can be good for anyone who knows the highs of a jam-packed club and the thrill of being recognized for skills with a turntable. That can be fun, but it may also be too detailed: mixology is an extremely heavy subject here. Many of the tunes he names were hits only in the clubs and only briefly, and many of the people he name-drops are long gone. Readers may find themselves not particularly caring. Heavy sigh.

This isn’t a bad book, but it’s absolutely not for everyone. If you weren’t into clubbing, pass and you won’t miss a thing. If you were a die-hard club kid back then, though, “Night People” will make your eyes dance.

Want more? Then check out “What Doesn’t Kill Me Makes Me Weirder and Harder to Relate To” by Mary Lucia (University of Minnesota Press). It’s Lucia’s tale of being a rock DJ in Minneapolis-St. Paul, life with legions of listeners, and not being listened to by authorities for over three harrowing, terrifying years while she was stalked by a deranged fan.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

We’ve all known them. We’ve all watched those couples on our “friends” feed who seem to live a perfect life together; young, attractive, and devoted to each other, they present an aspirational image on social media, documenting their romance for friends, followers, and all the world to see. We can’t help but envy them, but at the same time, we can’t help feeling like it’s all just a little too good to be true – and inevitably, our instinct is eventually proven right by an abrupt and messy breakup that ends up being aired just as publicly as the rest of their relationship.

That’s the kind of couple that occupies the center of “300 Letters,” a self-described gay “anti-romcom” from Argentine filmmaker Lucas Santa Ana (“Memories of a Teenager”), which garnered acclaim on the festival circuit both in its native country and in the U.S. earlier this year. Now available for home viewing via Prime Video and other VOD platforms, it might just be the perfect alternative if you need a counterbalance to all the sugary sweet holiday romances that tend to dominate the seasonal content offerings.

It’s the saga of the one-year romance between Jero (Cristian Mariani) and Tom (Gastón Frías), an “opposites attract” couple who meet (on Grindr, of course), have great sex, and become a couple despite the differences in their status (Jero is a “masc”-presenting cryptocurrency bro, Tom a struggling queer radical poet) and their outlook on life; they move in together, building a relationship that – thanks to Jero’s popular social media profile – soon has its own fandom. Then, on their first anniversary together, Jero comes home from his Crossfit class with plans for the big celebration – only to find that Tom has packed up and moved out, ending their relationship and leaving behind only a box of letters as an explanation.

Jero, blindsided and devastated, is at first resistant to the letters, but – at the urging of his best friend Esteban (Bruno Giganti), who believes it will help him move on – he decides to read them; the story they tell reveals that his couplehood with Tom was never as he had perceived it to be. Built on sex and maintained through performative routine, there had been an underlying agenda hidden beneath it from the beginning. As he continues the painfully eye-opening process of learning the truth, he is forced to question his own honesty in the relationship – all while holding on to an attachment that may have been a performance all along.

We’ll admit it sounds like a gimmicky premise, and also kind of a downer, but there’s a sensibility behind “300 Letters” that somehow overcomes those pitfalls. Thanks to the conceit of learning the story through letters – sometimes out of order – we are gradually coaxed (along with Jero) toward our own conclusions and epiphanies as the details (and layers of complexity) become more clearly defined; it keeps us engaged through this gradual reveal, allowing time for the uncomfortable truths to sink in, and maintains a subtle sense of humor to keep the tone from being bogged down by melancholy.

According to Santa Ana, who also co-wrote the film with Gustavo Cabaña, all of that is by design.

“I love romantic comedies and breakup movies, and I wanted to combine them while also talking about something that interests me within the LGBT world,” the filmmaker says of his movie. “We always talk about the discrimination we suffer from outsiders, but we rarely think about the discrimination we inflict on ourselves due to the prejudices we carry. In ‘300 Letters,’ I wanted to explore this topic with a fun and relaxed perspective.”

It pays off better than you might expect. Thanks to the carefully balanced screenplay and the performances of its two leading men, it manages to point out the mismatched couple’s faults, flaws, and foibles, while also making them both relatable. In the end, we definitely get the message: the assumptions we have about other people shape our perceptions of them in ways to which we are usually blind, and the prejudices we carry can become self-fulfilling prophecies when we only see what we are looking for. More than that, it’s a refreshingly candid and mature exploration of relationships – and yes, gay relationships in particular – which reminds us that every love affair has meaning and value, and that even a failed one is worth having if it helps you learn how to do better next time.

On the flip side, it’s easy to imagine some viewers finding both characters tiresome. Jero is charming, and he’s definitely sexy, but he’s undeniably mired in a comfortably conventional queerness that makes us more inclined to sympathize with Tom – who is, himself, perhaps equally as judgmental in his assumptions about others, and who seemingly has no qualms about gaslighting his partner, but somehow still feels more “authentic” than Jero.

Fortunately, “300 Letters” is not the kind of movie that makes us choose between them. Instead, it invites us to see parts of ourselves in each of them, and in the end is really more about the “culture of presentation” – the obsession with projecting an appealing image, of seeking private validation through public display – than it is about holding up either of its protagonists for judgment. Instead, it leaves us to contemplate our own relationships in the light of self-awareness, never pulling the emotional punch that comes with loss and the grieving of a relationship, but somehow letting us see the wisdom that awaits us on the other side of it.

In the starring roles, Mariani and Frías are equally charismatic in their own distinctive way, capturing a chemistry that both “clicks” and doesn’t at the same time; Giganti also delivers a presence, subtly conveying his character’s unspoken role as the third point in a triangular relationship, There’s a deep complexity behind these characters that goes largely unspoken, but which emerges in their performances all the same; and if, in the end, the balance of our sympathies may have shifted more toward one of them than the other, that’s OK.

In Santa Ana’s deceptively breezy post-mortem of a break-up, that’s just how relationships go.

When Carlos Sosa first became involved in youth services and programming in the early 2000s, he was a young adult himself. And as he worked his way through the landscape of this world, of figuring out how to support disadvantaged young people, he noticed a glaring gap. “Trans youth weren’t being serviced,” Sosa told the Blade. “Lesbian youth weren’t being serviced.” Several LGBTQ+ adolescents were being left out of important pathways to resources, education, opportunities, and events that centered their joy.

In 2005, Sosa founded Community Intervention Through Youth (C.I.T.Y.) x1 Youth Group to make sure that queer youth were not only recognized but also prioritized when it came to their safety, rights, and futures. The nonprofit began with a simple ethos: “youth programming by the youth,” according to Sosa. For two decades, C.I.T.Y. has partnered with fellow organizations to support unhoused and at-risk queer youth, connecting them to services like transitional living programs and substance abuse treatment.

This Sunday, one of their regular holiday social events returns. The Tamale Wars, an annual free holiday dinner party, will bring food, music, dance, and actors from the charity Star Wars costuming organization 501st Legion to queer young Angelinos. Co-sponsored by the City of West Hollywood, Tamale Wars takes place on Dec. 7th from 6 to 9 p.m. at Plummer Park and is open to all queer youth ages 14 to 24, as well as allies and family members.

Sosa wants youth of all backgrounds to feel welcomed and embraced in this environment, especially those who have long been neglected in wider programming. Trans, unhoused, immigrant, and queer young folks will have access to a safe space where their whole selves are held and uplifted. 

When the event first began, it was called the “Eggnog Youth Social.” But as time went on, the C.I.T.Y. team noticed waves of excitement that would follow revitalizations of the Star Wars franchise — how it delighted audiences, new and old. It was both nostalgic and forward-moving, and had the power to bring generations of families together. Their holiday social was then rebranded to “The Tamale Wars,” and has since taken on a life of its own, said Sosa.

These colorful, vibrant holiday dinners emphasize joy, but are also a way into other important resources. “As much as I’m talking about fun and Star Wars, there is an educational component at the end of the day for all of this,” said Sosa. “Once they’re in the door, we have tabling organizations that offer emergency housing, cash vouchers for the unhoused, GED training, and HIV testing.” 

Facilitating queer youth’s access to essential services is the fundamental core of C.I.T.Y., especially as the state of youth programming comes under threat, both federally and locally. The administration’s 2026 budget consolidates several youth-focused initiatives, and opportunities like South Central L.A.’s workforce development program YouthBuild are at risk of significant cuts.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same — in that youth still need a voice in programming,” said Sosa. “Whenever there are budget cuts at the corporate level [and in] organizations, the youth programs tend to be the first that get cut. That was happening 20 years ago, and that’s still happening today.”

C.I.T.Y. is trying its best to adapt to these cycles in order to sustain its mission of helping queer youth thrive. The organization is ramping up outreach efforts, continuing to host events like the Tamale Wars, and continuing to deliver meals, hygiene kits, and other resources to encampments where queer immigrant youth are living. “We can’t swim against a wave because we will cease to exist,” said Sosa, who emphasizes the importance of community sustainment in keeping their mission alive. 

Sunday’s Tamale Wars is free to attend for queer youth ages 14 to 24, as well as allies and family members. RSVP is encouraged but not required. More information can be found here. C.I.T.Y. x1 Youth Group is also asking for donations to help fund the holiday dinner as well as their meal drop off services and other initiatives. 

Kristie Song is a California Local News Fellow placed with the Los Angeles Blade. The California Local News Fellowship is a state-funded initiative to support and strengthen local news reporting. Learn more about it at fellowships.journalism.berkeley.edu/cafellows.

Are you a screenwriter? Entertainment critic? Film director? Actor? Makeup artist? Producer? Entertainment lawyer? Back by popular demand, The Queer Room returns to provide a vibrant and safe space for any and all members of the entertainment industry to mix, mingle, and network.

The Los Angeles Blade, Hyperion LA, and CinePride Film Festival invite you out for a casual happy hour at Hyperion Studios on Thursday, ^{December 11th}, starting at 6 pm. Bring your Instagram profile, your business cards, and your star personality for this entertainment-minded mixer. Come meet your future power partners in the industry. Now is the time for us to come together and become united.

Los Angeles Blade publisher Alexander Rodriguez will be on hand together with Andrew Bear, CEO and Founder of Hyperion LA, and Cecilio Asuncion, Executive Director of CinePride. Hyperion LA is a full-service creative production company specializing in story-forward campaigns for beauty, lifestyle, and culture-defining brands. CinePride Film Festival, at its heart, is committed to fostering the next generation of LGBTQIA+ filmmakers, ensuring they have the resources and support to bring their visions to life.

The first Queer Room, held at the Abbey, was a big success with attendees walking away with new contacts and business opportunities. This time around, we are heading to Hyperion Studios, an extensive and full-service production space, nestled in the heart of Los Angeles.

The event is open and free to all, hosted by Hyperion Studios at 2221 Aaron St, Los Angeles, CA 90026. Rideshare is encouraged.

For more information, email [email protected]

15 years ago, Spencer Collins organized trips for young students to attend various theater productions. As a former actor, he understood the power of the stage to channel complex truth into heartfelt entertainment. After one of these visits, a student approached him and asked why he, as a queer Black person, couldn’t see himself reflected in these shows. “You haven’t written them yet,” replied Collins.

This became the impetus for B.L.A.C.Mail Productions, a nonprofit that Collins founded in 2010 to uplift Black, LGBTQ+ voices. An acronym for “Black Leaders in Art and Cinema,” the organization supports the work of storytellers who are often sidelined. “It’s really become a movement,” Collins told the Blade. “And the movement is to make sure that we give voice to those who aren’t heard, [including] those who are in the LGBTQ community — who don’t have an opportunity to go and tell their stories.” 

This Saturday, B.L.A.C.Mail Productions will host its 15th World AIDS Day Event, themed “Still Standing.” It features an energetic lineup of performances that includes singer Berkley the Artist and queer rollerskater LARONBEST, and will honor local advocates for their work in championing Black and queer stories and visibility. The event will also include free HIV rapid testing and other health resources for community members to engage with. “You’re going to come and laugh…party. But you’re going to be educated,” said Collins. “You’re going to get tested. You’re going to be tapped into resources. You’re going to rub shoulders with people who identify with you. You’re going to be in a safe space.” 

Aside from providing concrete support to marginalized creatives, Collins knew early on that he wanted B.L.A.C.Mail Productions to platform the behind-the-scenes work being done to uplift conversations around HIV and AIDS. He had various guiding lights, including friends and mentors like Dontá Morrison, Greg Wilson, and Phil Wilson, Black community leaders and educators who were outspoken about HIV and AIDS activism. There was also actress Sheryl Lee Ralph’s DIVA Foundation, as well as the Black AIDS Institute, charitable organizations focused on HIV and AIDS policy, awareness, prevention, and treatment resources — especially when it comes to the lives of Black community members.

Black communities in the U.S. are disproportionately vulnerable to HIV infection, and were diagnosed with the virus at more than two times the rate of other populations in 2023, according to the Office of Minority Health. Collins was baffled that there was not more awareness and conversation around HIV and AIDS in his community, and became determined to champion Black and queer voices in broader conversations and awareness events around HIV and AIDS.

Collins emphasizes that Saturday’s event is focused on accessibility and that no one will be denied entry based on funds. After working in the nonprofit sector for decades, he has witnessed how large-scale events cultivate environments that encourage peers to be with one another, but exclude those with less means. Deciding who can be in attendance based on financial or social status defeats the purpose of awareness events to begin with, Collins explained. “That’s not fair,” he said. “You need to include them in the conversion so they can tell you what help they need…People need more resources, more testing [and] places they can go and feel comfortable to [talk about HIV and AIDS].” 

Fighting for this kind of equitable access is difficult, Collins revealed to the Blade. Aside from stigma, perpetuated both federally and locally, Collins has faced difficulties in financially sustaining his organization. He self-funds a majority of his events and initiatives, and notes that a lack of funding for diverse organizations like his own creates a personal strain on him with each passing year. Five years ago, he was ready to end B.L.A.C.Mail’s annual World AIDS Day event. He felt at a standstill, having hit a wall that was built, brick by brick, through exhaustion. “My body is tired,” Collins said. “I’m physically and emotionally drained.”

Still, he is motivated by his mission to educate and empower his community. As he looks forward to Saturday’s event, the impending celebration of togetherness, education, and resource-sharing is a moment for resistance and resilience. Like the event’s theme, he is “still standing” — as strong as he can, to illustrate the power of Black and queer stories to express the depth of their histories and illuminate paths forward when larger forces fail to. 

Ticket information for the 15th Annual World AIDS Day Event can be found here. B.L.A.C.Mail Productions is also raising funds to support Saturday’s celebrations; details can be found here.

Kristie Song is a California Local News Fellow placed with the Los Angeles Blade. The California Local News Fellowship is a state-funded initiative to support and strengthen local news reporting. Learn more about it at fellowships.journalism.berkeley.edu/cafellows.

While RuPaul’s Drag Race is filled with legendary queens, few have had as much of a cultural impact as Dallas’ very own Kennedy Davenport. Originally from this seminal program’s seventh season, the performer became an instant fan-favorite with her endless stream of quotable catchphrases and jaw-dropping dance ability. With follow-up appearances on All Stars and Versus The World, Kennedy has solidified herself as one of the biggest icons to come from this franchise. And, finally, World of Wonder is giving her the solo spotlight she deserves with a new special, unlike anything the production company has done before: The Kennedy Davenport Center Honors.

“It’s different, and that’s why I wanted to do it!” Said Davenport, when she sat down with the Los Angeles Blade to discuss what drew her to this new special. “I’m a host by nature — and coming up in the Drag Community, you have to know how to hold a mic.”

The Kennedy Davenport Center Honors will see the queen bestow awards — or, as she calls them, ‘dishonors’ — to various Drag Race alumni. From “Proud Drag Mother Award – When Your Daughter Has A Higher Booking Fee” to “The Struggle is Real Award,” Kennedy was excited to share the stage with some of her favorite Drag sisters and completely gag them with these hilarious new titles. Whether it be recent icon Bosco or long-lasting legends like Alexis Mateo, she assures everyone reading that this VIP list will be one of WowPresentsPlus’ most stacked yet. But beyond the comically star-studded glamour, Kennedy knew that she wanted her first special to be something more than just an award show. She wanted to use this time to uplift and celebrate the Drag community that she loves so much — a practice that queer people have been missing in recent months, but that this Queen does in her life every single day. 

“[I’m positive] on a daily basis,” Kennedy explained, when discussing the optimistic attitude she embodies as a host. “I always highlight positivity. And, you know, it’s cliché to say…but I really don’t think about the negative. In my life, or in my career.” It’s a part of the performer that fans don’t often get to see; between the verbal takedowns and stunning lip-syncs, Drag Race watchers can miss how Kennedy is constantly supporting everyone around her.

When discussing how she manages to stay so hopeful, especially when coming from a state filled with anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric, Kennedy clarified, “It’s a very conscious thing. You have to be aware of what you are putting into the universe, and what you are allowing into your personal space.” She continued, “It’s easy for me to do [this] because I’ve been down at the bottom [of life]. I’ve [also] been at the top, but the bottom is where you really start learning life and start making up your mind about wanting to live positively.”

“I’m going to see my dream, I’m going to see my purpose. I’m going to encourage others and motivate them to be their authentic selves — and I’m going to respect myself along the way so that I can continue to be respected and loved by [everyone around me.]” It’s a radically optimistic mindset that audiences don’t often get to see through the television screen. And it’s one that Kennedy knows her fans can benefit from, now more than ever. 

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During a time when LGBTQ+ communities — especially drag queens, who are go-to scapegoats for conservative fearmongers — are being attacked at a daunting scale, it’s becoming harder and harder to find moments of pure queer joy in America. It’s understandable that so many are focused on pushing for change in all arenas of this country, but we can’t forget how essential community is in the ongoing fight for liberation. It’s good to remember that in the face of discriminatory rhetoric, LGBTQ+ joy is a radical act, which is why Kennedy is hoping that this special will give viewers something they haven’t had in far too long: a moment to relax. 

“It’s all [done] in love, and that’s the message that I really want people to see, that,” said Davenport, when discussing how excited she is to not only poke fun at her fellow performers, but spotlight their many accomplishments. “It’s a ‘dishonors,’ but we all love them, and everybody that I call out [in the special] knows that it’s done in love.” By bringing viewers into her close relationships with everyone involved, Kennedy is inviting them to laugh at the inside jokes she’s developed over years of knowing these stars. It’s the most exciting part of the entire endeavor for the Queen, saying, “I’ve always lived with the heart of love and laughter. So, to have this platform, to be able to spread love…it’s a blessing in disguise.” This interview quickly turned from a spotlight on a funny special into a profile on a Drag Queen who has helped so many over the years. It’s all a part of Kennedy Davenport’s ongoing mission to spread her personal mindset of love and life to everyone she meets, with The Kennedy Davenport Center Honors becoming her latest and biggest attempt at uplifting the many people in her community. This is why, as the interview came to an end, Kennedy clarified her true goal with this special: “At the end of the day, I just want you to be sitting back laughing and saying, ‘That made me sick!’ She talked about me, and I loved it.”

The Kennedy Davenport Center Honors premieres December 7th on WOW Presents Plus

While online followers will think many things when they first lay their eyes on Javonte Rose, there’s one word that will come to many of their minds: perfection. 

This LA-based model and musician has spent the last few years occupying people’s timelines with a perfectly curated social media presence. It’s what led to his casting on hit queer web series like WowPresentsPlus’ Vanjie: 24 Hours of Love, where fans came to know him for his effortlessly suave confidence. Javonte’s brand is built on this form of pure queer excellence — but it definitely didn’t start that way. Because, despite what it may seem to his thousands of Instagram followers, Javonte’s life story is one of hardship and tireless work, facing some of the worst situations imaginable and refusing to let them break you. It’s an aspect of the influencer that your average follower wouldn’t get to learn about, and it’s an experience that he hopes to share with the many people going through the same turmoil he did today. 

Initially, Javonte sat down with the Blade to discuss his part in OUTtv’s recent reality series Slayers: Wheel of Fate. Hosted by the legendary Tiffany ‘New York’ Pollard, Javonte was thrilled to be a part of this all-queer competition show. “I had an amazing time,” he gushed. “And just being in a house with so many different individuals who you don’t know and coming together…it brought me back to childhood. [I got] to be very smart and strategic — playing it cute and playing it safe!” He laughed about the intensity of this program, yet what began as a fun conversation about reality TV quickly became an insightful discussion about healing from trauma, all because of one question: what made you who you are today? 

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Of course, every influencer has a past, one that reveals a deeper side to the flawless image projected to their online audiences. But few backstories are as shocking as Javonte Rose’s, with the man starting his explanation with a distressing statement: “I’ve been on my own since I was 15 years old.”

“Growing up was such a struggle for me,” he continued. “[My siblings and I] were split up as kids, because my mom was going through a lot…she had her first kid at 13, and so she was trying to be a mom and a teenager at the same time. So we were all split up, and I moved in with my aunt — it was a big difference.” Javonte’s eyes literally lit up when speaking about his aunt; for the first time in his life, it felt like he actually had a parent. “My aunt was the one who taught me how to love and respect and appreciate people…she treated me with love and respect, and loyalty and guidance, and the motherhood my mom didn’t have [any of].” While he spent a relatively short time with the woman, Javonte emphasized how dearly he loves his aunt and the sense of family that she instilled in him. He’d finally received the love he hadn’t had from his birth mom, which is why it was particularly devastating when, after only a few years with his aunt, his mother regained custody of her children. 

Returning to his immediate family set off a decade of torment for Javonte. “I was being bullied by kids in school, then going back home [and] being bullied by my siblings and verbally [abused] by my mom and her boyfriend.” This experience went on well into his teens, forcing him to start working at only 12 years old while enduring homophobic harassment at home and in school. These years of abuse culminated in the horrific experience of his mom calling the police on him when he was only 15 years old. 

“Your mother putting you in jail for something you didn’t do is [heartbreaking],” said Javonte, detailing the day when, after attacking him physically when he tried to leave their home to go to work, his mother called the police and alleged that he was the one attacking her. “Feeling those handcuffs…knowing she’s behind you watching it happen…” The artist described the feeling of having the person meant to protect you turn into the source of your worst trauma. It was a terrifying moment that led to his younger self moving to Boston, where he began the modeling career that brought him to where most people know him today.

“People always [see me as] this beautiful man. ‘Wow, he does modeling, acting, he’s on television…how can he go through such struggles and trauma?” It’s a misconception that Javonte has always experienced, but it’s luckily given him a platform that he uses to hopefully make sure nobody goes through the same experience he did. 

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While many people know Javonte for his reality TV appearances and catchy songs, the man has also spent years as one of Los Angeles’ most fashionable activists. Not only has he documented his tumultuous childhood in a memoir, Behind the Blue Eyes, but in 2016, he started his own anti-bullying nonprofit, I’m Here. He was able to turn a lifetime of tragedy into a mission to support others with a ceaseless confidence that he credits to one person: his aunt. “I always stood my ground because my aunt always told me to keep my head high and smile no matter what. I just kept looking at myself in the mirror and [telling myself], ‘You are amazing, you are beautiful, you are strong, you are powerful.’”

Javonte’s story shows how even just one supportive person can impact someone’s entire life. And, through the man’s ability to turn so much early anguish into the easy image of perfection he has now, it also speaks to the importance of valuing yourself even when everyone around you tries to make you feel lesser. Because Javonte wouldn’t have accomplished any of his wildly impressive resume without believing that he had a story to tell. And, as he ended the interview, the advocate advised his many fans, “Find a safe place…and write. Write the things that you’re going through, things that you want to change, and things that you want to see in your life. Try to think of the beautiful life moments [you’ve had], and try to think of the beautiful life moments that [you will] have. And just try to keep uplifting yourself through it all.”

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