Features
Seeding a gay community in LA, the gay liberation revolution
1970 was an incredible year of achievement for GLF in LA. Marches, protests, & a broad range of other militant, highly visible actions
By Don Kilhefner | LOS ANGELES – There is a big difference in magnitude between a liberation movement and a civil rights movement. Often, the terms “Gay Liberation” and “Gay Civil Rights” are used synonymously. Those terms, however, are very different in meaning.
A liberation movement involves an oppressed group seizing power by its own militant efforts and includes a change in consciousness by an oppressed people about its alleged inferiority, restructures economic and educational systems, and claims or reclaims the group’s history and culture. The central organizing principle of a civil rights movement is lobbying the dominant power structure over time to grant new laws—like voting rights—which gives more equal rights to a minority or majority historically discriminated against without any fundamental changes or threats to the power, economic, or educational systems in place.
Power structures try to destroy liberation movements, as in South Africa in 1961 when Nelson Mandela and others created the paramilitary Spear of the Nation, turning the African National Congress from a civil rights movement into a liberation movement. On the other hand, civil rights movements are easily pacified by political posturing and pretending and assimilated by elite capture without posing much of a threat to the basic power structures of society. Liberation movements are also susceptible to elite capture.
Author’s Note You are advised to remember as you read the following article that all of the Gay Liberation organizing being described was done within a context of 1,000 years or more of hetero supremacy in the West in which all religions declared lesbians and particularly gay men to be subhuman and an abomination in the eyes of God; all national and local laws declared them to be illegal and a crime against nature, with police and vigilante groups hunting them down and killing such deviants, often burning them alive at the stake; and in the 20th century the new science of psychology declared them a severe psychopathology and a threat to society. Gay men and lesbians internalized that hetero supremacist, genocidal ideology, turning it into self-hate, and turning that debasement into fear of being found out, some in fear for their very lives. And so, in 1969, still being officially labeled sick, sinful, and against the law and against the laws of nature, a new, revolutionary narrative unfolded in Los Angeles.
Central to the development of a radical, militant Gay Liberation revolution in Los Angeles was the L.A. Gay Liberation Front, which was called into being in August 1969 by Morris Kight, an anti-Vietnam War activist. GLFs were also organized in other major U.S. cities in the aftermath of the 1969 Stonewall Rebellion, a single spark that caused a prairie fire. A gay revolution ensued—a revolution defined as “sudden, radical, complete change.”
For months, GLF meetings were held every Sunday afternoon in random, obscure locations, until, on January 1, 1970, I secured a GLF office at 577 ½ North Vermont Ave. in East Hollywood, formerly occupied by the Hollywood contingent of the Peace and Freedom Party. Using basic organizing skills learned as a volunteer at the Peace and Freedom Party office in Venice while a UCLA doctoral student in history, I became GLF’s around-the-clock, sleep-in office manager, creating a GLF infrastructure for the first time, including a telephone number, mailing address, bank account, and a stable meeting and organizing space.
The office was located on the second floor of a graceful dowager of a fourplex next to the Hollywood Freeway. Soon after GLF left the space, the building was demolished and replaced by a series of gas stations (southwest corner of Vermont and Clinton). [If anyone out there has a photo of the building, please contact me.]
The GLF office became a beehive of gay political organizing that propelled the Gay Liberation movement in Southern California forward rapidly (more about all that activity in the future). In a recent event at USC-ONE Archives, Dr. Craig Loftin, Lecturer in gay history at California State University (Fullerton), described that year as follows, “…1970 was an incredible year of achievement for GLF in Los Angeles. They staged marches, protests, ‘zaps,’ interventions, and a broad range of other militant, highly visible actions. They fought back. They led the march out of the shadows, out of the closets.”
(Photo credit: Author’s collection)
On 9/18/1970, GLF staged a “Touch-In” in a popular WeHo bar, The Farm; at 10 p.m. gay men reached out and hugged each other; L.A. Sheriffs arrived and were warned by GLF: if you arrest one of us, you’ll have to arrest all of us; men continued to show affection for each other; chanting began: “Ho-Ho, Ho Chi Minh, GLF is going to win;” Sheriffs retreated; the beginning of the end of police raids of gay bars in L.A. was upon us.
While Kight and I played a leadership role in those developments, let me make this clear: a handful, then scores, then hundreds of gay and lesbian people—all voluntarily engaged activists—collectively and constructively made it happen, a record of accomplishment probably unmatched by any other GLF in the country.
In this essay, I will focus on one of those 1970 activities, the GLF Gay Survival Committee and the subsequent Hoover Street Commune because there is a clear path, through thick and thin, from that Committee to the Commune to the October 1971 opening of the Gay Community Services Center in Los Angeles (now called the L.A. LGBT Center), the first and, then as now, the largest in the world. GCSC also seeded what grew into a world class gay community in Los Angeles.
The Gay Survival Committee, the name tells you where gay people were at that time, was created in the Spring of 1970 when I proposed the idea to GLF which approved it unanimously. The Committee’s primary purpose was to begin exploring the possibility of offering—out of the GLF office and by referral—services specifically designed for gay and lesbian people suffering from oppression sickness (peer counseling, consciousness raising groups, Vietnam War draft and military resistance counseling, and medical and legal referrals). A Los Angeles Free Press article in August 1970 caught the zeitgeist of that GLF effort.
By the end of 1970, L.A. GLF was beset by a mostly friendly, fundamental debate as to which direction to go in 1971, either in an evolving liberation direction or a more social direction by opening a Gay Coffee House with entertainment. After much internal discussion and to resolve the tension, I made a proposal in December 1970 that the GLF office be closed and that GLF financial resources, totaling about $900, be turned over to the Gay Coffee House project. GLF members agreed.
Early in 1971, a Gay Coffee House was opened by GLF stalwarts John Platania, Jim Kepner, and others in a storefront on Melrose Ave., a site where the Continental Baths subsequently stood (western corner of Melrose and Kenmore). After several months it devolved into a crash pad, could not pay its rent, and closed.
During 1970, my thinking had also evolved considerably from the Gay Survival Committee’s idea of providing limited services out of the GLF office to contemplating a more substantial, comprehensive, freestanding operation providing direct services and infused with the radical spirit and methodology of Gay Liberation. Also, during that year, I grew by leaps and bounds, transforming from a somewhat quiet, introverted academic type into an articulate, assertive community organizer because of GLF’s one-after-the-other successes.
The more I read, dialogued with others, and self-reflected, it was gradually becoming clearer to me that if we were going to succeed as a liberation movement, it was critical that we enlarge our GLF agenda from merely a reactive strategy of fighting back against hetero supremacy into an enlarged, transforming proactive strategy of building a visible, organized, self-accepting, and defiant gay community where none had ever existed.
This new way of thinking began a first level of envisioning that a gay center might be the vehicle around which such a gay community could coalesce. I did not know exactly how GLF could make that happen. As it turned out, I became the vision carrier for such a project, although at that time I did not know that term nor understand what it meant. I just did what I did from a deep well of caring and intense gay liberation motivation. I did know, however, from my many learning experiences as I matured during my 20s, that the path forward reveals itself as we walk the path not as we think about it or discuss it. And it worked.
[I want to acknowledge the important work done by Rev. Troy Perry, whom I admire, in founding in 1968 in Los Angeles the Metropolitan Community Church
which became an important part of the gay community in L.A. and elsewhere. The roots of MCC were in evangelical Christianity and the Society for Individual Rights, a conservative homophile organization started in 1964 in San Francisco. The roots of the Gay Liberation movement, however, were in the 1969 Stonewall Rebellion.]
On January 1, 1971, a year after opening the GLF office on North Vermont Ave., a contingent from GLF consisting of Randy Schrader, Steve Beckwith, Stan Williams, Rod Gibson and me, members of GLF’s Gay Survival Committee, moved into the newly created Hoover Street Commune which became the relocated activist center for Gay Liberation militancy in L.A. Morris Kight and others became an essential part of the organizing activities taking place there.
Thus, began the second phase of the pioneering work of the L.A. Gay Liberation Front.
Hoover Street Commune (1971-1973): GLF Implements a Strategic Plan for a Gay Community Center
One of the important gay historical sites in Los Angeles is located at 1500 North Hoover Street (at Sunset Dr.), right behind the then KCET public television studios (now the Scientology Media Production Studios) on Sunset Blvd. in Silverlake. It was the home of the Hoover Street Commune, which existed from 1971 until 1973—the place from which the building of the gay community center and, by extension, a gay community in Los Angeles emerged.
[Community organizers today have many exquisite organizing tools that we did not have in the 1960s and 1970s; however, missing today is the communal living that focused and magnified our effectiveness. When I dialogue with young activists today, the absence of such an essential tool in their organizing efforts is glaring.]
The house, built as a duplex, had been turned into one large house with five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small kitchen, a dining room, and a living room. The original communards included very creative Stan Williams, a former Sonja Henie and Ice Capades skater; Steve Beckwith, a suit-and-tie businessman; Randy Schrader, a recent UCLA Law School graduate studying for the California Bar exam; Rod Gibson, a young GLFer; and me. Occupancy was a bit fluid at first, but then stabilized. Gibson soon moved out and was replaced by Ray Powers, a Hollywood actors’ agent, and Beckwith and his lover, Van Brown, a student at UC Santa Barbara, needed more privacy and moved elsewhere, replaced by John Platania.
GLF members Llee Heflin, Dexter Price, and Bruce Cristoff lived right next door at 1502 N. Hoover St. In and out on a regular basis were Morris Kight, Tony DeRosa, June Herrle, Howard Fox, David Backstrom, John Coffland, Justin Dangerfield, John Murphy, my beloved Luke Johnson, and many more. The door was always open.
For me, living there was like being in an always-in-session Graduate School for Advanced Gay Studies, intellectually and spiritually stimulating like nothing I had known before. I was being introduced to gay-centered films, books, art and artists, poetry, ideas, music, personages, spiritual lineages, inventive gay Kama Sutra positions, and much more that were all new to me.
Williams had created a large, low dining table and we sat on the floor to eat; once a week each member prepared supper. Virtually every evening there would be eight to ten people sitting around our large communal table for supper—visiting gay liberationists, soon-to-be-famous filmmakers, writers, and poets, grifters, lovers du jour, the Marlboro Man, mystics, future judges—a gay Noah’s Ark—engaged in animated and liberating discussions.
Sometimes Lucy would come down from the sky with her diamonds to visit. Williams and Platania would put their long hippie hair up into elegant beehive hairdos to go shopping at the local Safeway grocery store, an aspect of Gay Liberation’s political fight against rigid hetero gender norms. GLF called it “Gender Fuck,” a militant precursor of “Gender Fluid.” Williams created a High Tea which was poured many afternoons at 4 p.m. with rolled joints on a silver platter. Spirited political discussions would go into the night. And so it went.
In this exhilarating and creative gay-centered vortex at the Commune, sight was never lost as to why I was there—transforming the work of GLFs Gay Survival Committee into a gay community center. At both the GLF office and the Commune, the Committee’s composition was fluid with people coming and going. However, a more or less stable core group formed over time consisting of Beckwith, Kight, Platania, Williams, Schrader, Herrle, and Howard Fox among others. My role as the Committee’s founding chairman was to provide the leadership and glue to hold things together and guarantee there was forward movement by calling and chairing meetings every two weeks, preparing agendas, facilitating discussion, and ensuring continuity and follow through between meetings.
A revolutionary opening of historic proportions was being created by GLF in L.A. and we collectively leapt through that opening with the most serious intentions and joyful exuberance. Among the critically important developments that grew out of the Hoover Street Commune during those years were the following:
- Development of Content Architecture of a Gay Community Center: Every two weeks, I called a working meeting of the Committee at the Commune where contours and content of the groundbreaking gay center were collectively discussed and agreed to.
After each meeting, Platania and I would meet for an extra hour writing down what we had heard and agreed to in the meeting. Platania had worked as a grant writer for the City of Los Angeles’ Community Development Department and TELACU (The East Los Angeles Community Union). I typed up our writings, and by May 1971, an impressive looking, forty-page, bound proposal emerged from the Committee’s collective work that delineated the reasons for such a gay center, described the comprehensive human services to be provided in a community-based context, and laid out a timetable for implementing each component.
That document became an invaluable organizing tool because it clearly described what we planned to do and how we planned to do it. The proposal clearly sent a powerful message that these gay liberationists were very serious about their intentions, with a blueprint and hammer and nails in their hands, and ready to go to work. The name: “Gay Community Services Center.” Words never seen before anywhere.
“Gay” because we were totally in your face about who we were, not hiding behind camouflage words as was done prior to Gay Liberation. “Community” because of the core values implied in that word: (1) a community is a unified body whose members assumes responsibility for each other, meaning everyone, and (2) a community was what we were trying to call into being. “Services” because we were planning to deliver services specifically designed to meet the needs of gay, lesbian, and trans people, mending the deep woundings caused by hetero supremacy and invoking the new possibilities of gay empowerment. “Center” because of our intention that it be a center around which a gay community would coalesce.
- Creation of a Non-Profit, Tax-Exempt Organization: This idea was particularly advocated for by me and resulted in several people leaving the Committee, feeling that GLF was changing into an establishment organization, which was a foolish thought given how outcast and vilified gay people were at the time. No establishment would touch us, even most so-called homosexuals at that time avoided us and were afraid that GLF’s radical ideology and fighting back through direct action would get us all in more trouble.
My position was that we were attempting to create a gay community center and a gay community, both ideas revolutionary developments for our people at that time. GLF was building something that would hopefully outlive all of us and a community called for solid community institutions serving the people.
Moreover, one of the successful tactics of the Gay Liberation movement was keeping the hetero supremacists off balance. They never could conceive of gay and lesbian people developing self-respect after the centuries of violent intimidation and instilling of fear. They never expected the audacity of gay liberationists in L.A. creating a community center and envisioning an actual gay community that was real, substantial, and angry, that fought back and thumbed its nose at their supremacist proclivities and actions.
Beginning in April 1971, attorney Allen Gross and I began the grunt work of incorporating the proposed community center in California. Gross, an important hetero ally and lifelong friend, had founded the Legal Aid program in Oregon and served as legal counsel for L.A. GLF. He would serve for 25 years as legal counsel to the Center. We prepared Articles of Incorporation and By-Laws to submit to the State of California and could not read how the documents would be dealt with by the newly elected California Secretary of State, a young fellow named Jerry Brown. The documents were returned approved in two weeks and Brown became a dependable ally of gay people in California.
The same could not be said for the federal IRS tax exemption process, which routinely should have taken a few months, but in our case took five years. Gross prepared the IRS application with great care and attention to all possible traps that could be used to deny us. Decades later, I was informed privately that the Nixon White House had instructed the Secretary of the Treasury to put our application in his desk drawer and not act on it.
In 1972, I was summoned to Washington, D.C., for a special interrogation by Frank Cerny, head of the exempt branch of IRS, in a bizarre scene that unfolded in a majestic hall that was truly a surreal experience. With Gross on one side of me and attorney Ed Dilkes of L.A. Legal Aid on the other side, and me resembling a hippie Hasidic rabbi, I recited calmly over and over again what Gross had skillfully written in our application—we would serve anyone who asked for our philanthropic services and we would turn no one away, which were the exclusivity grounds on which IRS planned to trap and deny us tax-exemption. In 1976, our relentless perseverance and political pressure finally forced the White House and IRS to approve our tax-exemption application. GCSC was the first openly gay organization to secure IRS non-profit, tax-exempt approval—a singular achievement then.
- Opening First Liberation House. By mid-1971, the search began in earnest to find a location to open the Center, but initially nothing suitable could be found. That did not stop us. In August, Platania found a house on North Edgemont Ave. in East Hollywood, just south of Sunset Blvd., where the newly formed Center opened a Liberation House, the first of many in its Liberation House program over the years. Ralph Schaefer, a core GLF member, became its resident manager.
(Photo credit: Author’s collection)
The Edgemont Liberation House provided free housing primarily to young gay men, often runaways who were homeless. From 9 a.m. until 4 p.m. residents were out of the house looking for employment, getting back into school, or whatever. When the residents returned to the house at 4 p.m., under Schaefer’s supervision, they collectively made supper for the house.
The key words for living in a Liberation House, as in organizing the Center
itself, were “mutuality” and “cooperation.” Evening activities at the Edgemont house included a group discussion led by Schaefer or another GLF member that amounted to a gay consciousness-raising group, something the residents had never experienced before—gay and lesbian people viewed in a positive, constructive light. The residents blossomed. After breakfast in the morning, residents headed out to lean into their goals for the day.
Opening of the L.A. Gay Community Services Center
In September 1971, Platania found a possible site for the Center in an old Queen Anne style home at 1614 Wilshire Blvd. at Union Ave., just east of MacArthur Park. Committee members looked at the house and all agreed—yes, let’s do it. I was the full-time+ founding executive director and Kight, Herrle, and Platania became members of the first Board of Directors.
After a bit of cosmetic fix-up, the installation of telephones, and a big sign in front emblazoned with the words “Gay Community Services Center,” the year and a half of relentless organizing work by GLF members led to fruition. The story of that Center and the gay community it facilitated in Los Angeles, including the role of the Highland Park Collective, will be told later, but this was how GLF got that far.
To give you an idea how revolutionary this community organizing was in the lives of gay people, after the sign was hung on Wilshire Blvd., a call was received at the Center from an important gay figure telling us, “You must take that sign down immediately! You people are going to get all of us arrested!” Then, most gay people rightfully lived in fear.
- The Gaywill Funky Shoppe: The story of the Hoover Street Commune would not be complete without mentioning the Gaywill Funky Shoppe, a thrift store the Center opened in 1972 in Silverlake.
Amazingly, all the organizing and sustaining of the Center was accomplished with little money or no money at all. The organizers were fueled by something much larger than money. What little funds the early Center did operate on came from three primary sources: (1) Friday night Gay Funky Dances in Hollywood, open to all ages, which were started in 1970 by GLF, went on hiatus when the GLF office closed, and were started up again in August 1971 sponsored by the Center. After expenses, the dances generated about $150 a week; (2) donations at the Center raised about $150 weekly; and (3) after expenses, the Gaywill Funky Shoppe brought in about $200 weekly.
(Photo credit: Author’s collection)
Central to the Shoppe was Commune member Stan Williams assisted by young GLF members Dexter Price and Bruce Cristoff. Using a gift possessed by many gay men of being able to transform ordinary junk into objets d’art, the thrift shoppe thrived. It was located at 1531 Griffith Park Blvd., where that street meets Sunset Blvd. in Silverlake, occupied today by the Pine and Crane Restaurant. When Williams left for San Francisco, Ralph Schaefer took over as manager.
One day early in 1973, after not hearing from Schaefer for several days and hearing that the Shoppe seemed closed, Kight and I went to check it out. We found Schaefer dead in the bathroom with a bullet hole in the back of his head. He had been executed. Robbery was not a motive since a visible cash box was untouched. The murder of gay men occurred often then with assailants rarely looked for or apprehended by the LAPD. One less fag was a blessing for hetero supremacists.
The LAPD Rampart Division called Kight and me in for questioning and tried to pin the murder on us, demanding that we take polygraph tests.
We gave the LAPD the middle finger, telling the investigators to arrest us if they wanted to, but we refused to play their disrespectful game regarding someone we valued so dearly, and walked out. The LAPD was not heard from again regarding Schaefer’s murder, even after numerous requests for information.
The Gaywill Funky Shoppe was permanently closed immediately as a show of respect for Schaefer.
At the beginning of this article, you were advised to remember that all this GLF organizing was being done under the most difficult community organizing conditions imaginable. Even under those horrendous conditions, however, you can clearly see that something historically significant had occurred in Los Angeles that took place nowhere else in the same way in the lives of gay and lesbian people, facilitated by a vanguard of young gay liberationists.
By October 1971, with the opening of the Gay Community Services Center, with much more revolutionary struggle ahead, a whole new realm of possibilities and ways forward began opening up for gay and lesbian people in Los Angeles. The GLF Gay Survival Committee and Hoover Street Commune had done their early community organizing work impeccably.
A unique revolution in consciousness and liberation unfolded in Los Angeles, radically changing the quality of gay people’s lives and welfare, instilling a new, life enhancing identity and birthing an exciting, emerging community where we learned to value and take care of each other. The ripples of that Gay Liberation revolution wash over us still today.
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Photo by Todd Danforth
Don Kilhefner, Ph.D., played a pioneering role in the creation of the Gay Liberation movement and is co-founder of the L.A. LGBT Center, Van Ness Recovery House, Radical Faeries, and has been a gay community organizer for 55 years in Los Angeles and nationally. [email protected]
Features
David Archuleta celebrates his freedom
The American Idol alum channels George Michael with his latest single
Even the rain couldn’t keep the crowds away as American Idol alum David Archuleta took the stage at The Abbey in West Hollywood, celebrating the release of his latest single “Freedom,” – an homage to George Michael’s iconic anthem. “Freedom” comes on the heels of the 35th anniversary of the original anthem and it couldn’t be more timely as the LGBTQ+ community continues to face political persecution. The song celebrates Archuleta’s newfound freedom after coming out and dealing with a complicated relationship with his Mormon upbringing, while exploring his sexuality.
Archuleta happens to have been born the year Michael released “Freedom.” His music served as an inspiration in Archuleta’s coming out. Michael’s music took on new meaning for Archuleta, celebrating a freedom that he craved for himself growing up. Being able to pay homage to Michael is a testament to the personal growth Archuleta experienced since coming out in an Instagram post in 2021.
“I’m finally free from worrying about what is right. Does that look okay? Am I within the lines I’m supposed to? None of that really matters. Of course, we want to still be good, but the things I thought I needed to do, or the way I had to behave or act or say or think to be good, I now realize was a construct that someone else had. They were very black and white and the community that I was in created this safe little space that worked to an extent for certain people,” said Archuleta in an interview with LA Blade.
“Now I realize that they didn’t have all the answers that they told me and convinced me that they had. Sexuality, especially when it comes to queerness, is not what they thought it was. I can go ahead and live my own life now and it’s okay to explore that sexuality and sensuality. I’m an adult. It’s the freedom to explore yourself and also create a new identity in yourself after trying to live someone else’s idea of what you’re supposed to be your whole life up until your thirties.”
Archuleta’s vocals are soulful and mature here. He pays homage to the original, but also makes it his own.
“I thought it was a great message to tap into. It is an iconic song with an iconic video and quite the story that he had. He was a pop star, a heartthrob, and didn’t choose to come out. He got outed and he just owned it. There could have been a lot of other ways to go about that and I feel like the way he did it was so powerful and made him even more legendary because he really tapped into his sensuality and continued to consistently be one of the greatest pop stars in the world,” said Archuleta.
“I tried to stay pretty true to his version. At first, we actually made a dance version of it but decided to backtrack from it and say, you know what? This is George’s legacy and it’d probably just be better to just stay true to his energy that he put into it. And also stay more true to my energy. I decided to stay true to an MTV unplugged version that he did with a choir. I have gospel roots. I still love gospel music even though I don’t believe in it and what it’s saying and the messaging like I did before,” he reflected.
“It used to be everything for me, the performance in the emotion and the way you connect in your core to singing. I thought it was a beautiful way to combine my two passions of moving forward and being free, but also loving the soul in music. I felt like there was some great soul energy in there. I was able to get really gritty, even get a lot of growling, something I haven’t done for quite a while, I feel like in my music,” he said.
“Freedom” comes at a time when every day LGBTQ rights are being called into question. The timing is not lost on Archuleta.
“I think it’s unfortunate that the LGBTQ+ community always has to be targeted because of being a smaller group. Living our lives does not really enter fear with anyone else. But because fear-mongering works in the news, it works in politics, it works in rallying people behind someone to feel like they have to fight this cause. They are blaming the community for issues and fear-mongering and feeling like the queer community’s a threat to families and to religion. When a lot in the queer community are religious. They are actively participating and fully believing and are a part of families. They have children of their own. It’s just strange that politics click baits and instills fear to not take responsibility for the real issues that are actually impacting people. We were making great progress. It was so much easier for me to come out when I did versus when George Michael came out and now it’s back to a place where the fearmongering is getting people, especially the trans community.”
Archuleta’s personal journey continues to evolve. He has certainly thrown off the shackles of being branded as the innocent Mormon kind on American Idol.
“I don’t really know what my brand is anymore. I think as I release “Freedom,” it’s kind of like a rebranding. I’m still me, but I’m still also evolving. I feel like I’ve changed so much in the last two years. I’m having a fun time. I keep trying to push my boundaries and say yes to things that I wouldn’t have before. Even to the point where I’m writing songs and writers will be like, “David Archuleta can’t say that!” I’m like, well, I just did and I’m David Archuleta. But people sometimes feel weird and I guess it’s because I’ve always been squeaky clean. I’m not a Mormon anymore. I’m out and I don’t really have this religious ideology that I have to abide by. I am David, but I don’t have the same limits on me that I had before.”
Archuleta has more new music on the way and this summer, he will release his memoir. Writing his book was bittersweet for David, revisiting his past came with a few bumps along the way.
“I feel like it was traumatic. I had to take breaks. It’s like opening Pandora’s box going into your childhood because I feel like sometimes I’m too honest. You see some of the faulty programming that you still have wired in you and you kind of question like, why am I still abiding by that? If it happened so long ago, why am I still letting it affect me? Why is it still part of my belief? I’ve had to work through a lot and it’s been a more difficult process than I thought it would,” he said.
“I thought it’d be hard to write because I didn’t know what I was going to talk about. But that wasn’t the hard part. What’s hard is processing the emotions, the anger, the grief, the anxiety, the traumatic responses you have. But it’s been good. I’ve definitely processed a lot of my religious things. I’ve processed a lot of my internalized homophobia and just sexuality in general. It’s been interesting to reflect on the root of all of those things. And not just ideologies, but just realizing it’s not just a belief, it’s sometimes your genetics that make you the person you are. A lot of good self-reflection for sure,” he continued.
Archuleta’s fanbase continues to thrive along with each evolution the singer has gone through. He is grateful for his fans and his mission to remain true to himself is also for his fans. There is sincerity and truth at the heart of his music.
“To my fans, thank you for being here still and for enjoying what I’m doing, for cheering me on as I grow, as I fumble. I didn’t think fumbling and making mistakes was okay to do. I thought that for some reason if you make mistakes, you’re supposed to be unforgivable. And to see how forgiving of a following I have to let me learn and to experiment and to explore. That’s why I relate to George Michael’s “Freedom” because he had to explore in front of people. And of course, you want to keep parts of your life private, that’s what I prefer. But sometimes things just end up being people’s knowledge that you don’t even know, like processing religion and coming out, sexuality and dating and getting to know people and even learning how to be physical with someone,” he said.
“I’m going to continue trying to figure myself out. But for people to be excited and for me to finally have this part of time of my life is great. I just hope we continue having fun, unleashing more, and freely being ourselves and giving us the grace to figure that out even if it takes some time,” he concluded.
“Freedom” is now streaming on all major music platforms.
Features
Community leader reflects on loss from the Eaton Canyon fire one month later
‘Showing up for community is actually very political’
Melissa Lopez, 46, was at home with ‘the coven’ – her two dogs Foxy and HoneyBee, and her two cats Stevie Nicks and Dulce – when she got a notification from Southern California Edison saying there might be a possible power shut-off in her area on the morning of Jan. 7.
Lopez lived right off of Lake Ave., in Altadena – a city that sits at the bottom of the Eaton Saddle near Mount Markham and San Gabriel Peak in the San Gabriel Mountains, part of the Angeles National Forest.
The fire stretched across 14,000 acres over the weeks it took to contain it. The latest report released on Jan. 27 by the LA County Fire Dept., listed 17 civilian fatalities, nine firefighter injuries and thousands of threatened, damaged and destroyed structures as casualties of this fire.
Lopez’s was one of the structures that was destroyed shortly after Lopez and her four pets evacuated.
She recalls that she was watching the news about the Pacific Palisades fire when the reporter got notice that there was a fire starting up in Eaton Canyon, announcing it live on the news. At that moment Lopez felt her stomach drop.
“The second I heard that, my stomach just dropped, because when you live in Altadena, you kind of get notices of brush fires all the time. But, I knew this time was different because of the intensity of the wind,” recalls Lopez.
Lopez, whose pronouns are she/they, is a licensed clinical social worker and mental health therapist who works primarily with queer clients in the Los Angeles area. They also have over 100 thousand followers on Instagram as @counseling4allseasons, where they regularly post and repost memes and educational material that is relatable, relevant and helpful for queer, trans, BIPOC, disabled and otherwise marginalized people. Lopez is known as a community leader who has been actively outspoken about issues that are intersectional with race, genocide, immigration, capitalism, patriarchy, queerness and mental healthcare.
At the time of the interview, Lopez was having a particularly hard day as it was the one month mark since the start of the fires that burned through Altadena neighborhoods.
“Today is a hard day. It’s the one month anniversary of when I evacuated Altadena,” said Lopez in an interview with LA Blade. “I feel really pissed today. I’m pissed that so many things happened that could have been prevented.
Lopez recalls that on Tuesday Jan. 7 when the Santa Ana winds were blowing the strongest, she received the notification about the power possibly being shut off, but during the time leading up to her evacuation, she recalls that the power was never shut off. All the other alerts she received came after the fire had already started.
As she was preparing to evacuate, she says that she was in communication with many of her friends and nearby neighbors.
“It was really confusing because I was texting a couple of people and some were saying they hadn’t received [a notification], while others had,” said Lopez.
At that point, their own instinct and intuition led them to make the ultimate decision to begin evacuating.
“Everything’s kind of a blur, but I started to just grab the dogs and cats,” they said. “So I started getting all of their supplies like their food, litter – everything they use.”
The aftermath of the fire on the property that Lopez rented a back house in (Photo courtesy of Melissa Lopez).
As soon as she was able to find short-term housing through AirBnB, she began organizing a group now led by a colleague of Lopez, to help people who had been directly affected and displaced by the Eaton Canyon fire. In the group, they discussed the experience of making the decision to take the evacuations seriously and begin gathering their belongings. She says she even felt ‘silly’ at some point, because she believed she would just be able to return the following day.
“What I tell people now is that I don’t care how silly you feel. I don’t care if you pack up half your house and feel silly about it. If your house ends up burning down, you will be so grateful for it because there are so many things I wish I would have taken.
Though Lopez says they don’t remember an exact timeline, they remember seeing the fire move in really fast and by the time she began evacuating it was complete chaos out on the main streets of Pasadena and Altadena because of the hundreds of people evacuating.
“Some of us had gotten notices, some of us warnings, some of us hadn’t,” Lopez recalls the confusing ordeal.
The smoke began to cloud the area so Lopez put her dogs into her car, but struggled to get her cats into a carrier and one of them was almost too scared to grab. She was able to make it out of the danger zone with all four of the members of ‘the coven,’ as she likes to call them.
Lopez gathered her coven and evacuated, saying goodbye to many of her belongings (Photo courtesy of Melissa Lopez).
“I had a friend who was going to take us in who lives in San Marino and driving there is basically a straight shot, but because it was so windy, some trees had fallen over and some of the [street] lights were out, so it was all really chaotic.”
Lopez believes that the community support she has received since the evacuations has gotten through the hardest parts of the experience. Mutual aid came to Lopez’s rescue during this difficult time. Navigating the resources and legal assistance was incredibly difficult because of the stress, trauma and grief she is still currently experiencing.
The Eaton Canyon fire burned through a large part of Altadena, an area that is predominantly and historically Black, Latinx and working-class.
“I think it’s important for folks to remember that showing up for community is actually very political,” said Lopez. “I want to encourage people to show up and even if you don’t know people, show up. Even if you don’t f*cking like people, show up.”
Lopez says they are very grateful for the community that showed up for them and that it is not only important to show up for this current disaster, but for everything marginalized communities are currently facing. They received many messages on IG from people offering their support in a variety of ways and that was all impactful to Lopez. They say that a lot of the support they received was from people they directly and personally knew, but a lot of it also came from people who were complete strangers.
Lopez received holistic healing care packages from businesses like Earthy Corazón (Photo courtesy of Melissa Lopez).
In Lopez’s case, she was able to get her monthly rent for January and security deposit returned. She says she realizes that this is not the case for most people who are also navigating the aftermath of this disaster.
“I do want to highlight that I think tenants are having a really hard time because a lot of the resources and a lot of the support goes to homeowners and that is obviously a huge class issue,” said Lopez. “One thing I tell people now is get the f*cking renters insurance.”
The cause of the fire that took weeks to fully contain is still under investigation and many renters and homeowners await answers from insurance companies on their long path toward justice and permanent housing.
Features
Out at the Fair Kicks Off Pride Season In SoCal
OATF continues to forge ahead with queer representation at local county fairs
Though the LGBTQ+ community is under attack day after day, queer organizations are not giving up the fight and instead are choosing to forge ahead with an even louder voice. Out At The Fair (OATF), is kicking off LGBTQ+ event season with a bang this week. Since it began in 2011, Out at the Fair has become the official LGBTQ+ event of the fair industry.
This year’s season starts at the Riverside County Fair & National Date Festival on Saturday, February 15th at 11 am. The Glam Show will feature a performance from Drag Race alum Scarlet Envy, who also appeared in the franchise’s All Stars and UK vs the World iterations. In addition to a number of California dates, OATF will appear in New Mexico, Oregon, and Alaska.
Simply put, it is a day the queer community gathers and takes over stages at your local country fair. This year Out At The Fair will appear in 13 cities in four states. The organization provides visibility for the LGBTQ+ community and creates an inclusive day at the fair with main stage music performances, drag queen story time for youth, community resources, health resources, giveaways, family-friendly activities, and a grand finale Glam Show featuring drag performances.
In this LA Blade exclusive, we chatted with Out At The Fair CEO and Founder William Zakrashek. Coming from a nightlife and DJ background, Will and his partners have kept OATF going strong, despite political and queer-phobic setbacks. The production team that travels on the road to each of the Fairs has been pretty much the same from its inception, a testament to the mission and professionalism of the organization.
OATF Founder William Zakrashek (Photo courtesy of OATF)
What was the inspiration to start Out at the Fair?
In 2011 we went to the San Diego County Fair and noticed there was no representation of the LGBTQ+ community so we just checked in on social media calling it the “Unofficial Gay Day.” Honestly, we didn’t think anything would come from it until the following year I got a message on social media asking if we were doing the gay day at the Fair again. We made an official Facebook event that year calling it the “Unofficial Gay Days” and were invited by Luis from Marketing at the SD Fair. They welcomed our full group to the fair, gave us pins, and took our photo. The following year I was invited to official SD Fair planning meetings and the vision of Out At The Fair came together and the rest is gay history now.
What have been your biggest challenges in producing these events?
Out at the Fair has to transform a conservative industry while changing the perception of the county fairs to our community. Because of the family-friendly nature and conservative backgrounds of Fairs, the queer community hasn’t felt like they can be themselves. I have to say with years of work, it is now. Every location with an OATF not only showcases our community to the full Fair but now welcomes the community to events at the Fair, 365 days a year. We hear from our Fair partners that the uptick in our community coming to the grounds beyond just county fair time had a huge increase.
Have you had any pushback from the straight, conservative community with OATF’s presence?
We have had the normal pushback that Prides get with protestors outside of the gates or rude verbiage from someone walking by our booth, but it has never been anything where we have felt threatened. We have a rule at the booth, if someone is video recording you and you do not feel comfortable, video record them back so we can handle it with the Fair teams. We work so closely with locations to make sure every year we get better and better at creating that safe space.
But sometimes, that pushback comes from inside the Fair industry from production crews that do not have the same values as OATF. They limit their responses, limit the info we get to pass on to our partners and come up with any way possible to make it harder for us. The problem with their plans is that our Fair partners know about these struggles so it will only hurt their own relationships in the end.
What have been some of the biggest achievements of Out at the Fair?
Out At The Fair won the highest business award from the Fair industry called the Barham Award in recognition of our reliability and excellence in what we do. But the awards aren’t the real achievements we have made when it comes to progress for our community. We have created the first LGBTQ+ safe spaces in some of Fairs’ histories (some over 100 years!), producing stages, bringing drag to the fairs, and building out a foundation for a real connection. This summer we will be doing our furthest north Glam Show 160 miles south of the Arctic Circle in Fairbanks, AK! It’s pretty incredible the opportunities we can open up to our talented community that wasn’t there before.
You travel with your crew from city to city, what are the realities of life on the road?
Where do I even start? You better love your business partners and understand that the privilege of privacy during Fair season isn’t a thing. I have to say, don’t eat a Subway at a gas station because we have seen food out at 2 AM while taking a pee break. Tuna fish needs a fridge. We have to haul a trailer with us from location to location for all the setups, so between sleeping in the truck on the side of the freeway with our two dogs or hitting an elk in the middle of Arizona at midnight on our way to New Mexico, the event must go on. Even when the state trooper is telling us to stay at a hotel, we had to push on with part of the front end missing on the truck and elk fur all over it. Albuquerque or Bust!
I think the craziest thing I have seen was after driving back from Oregon last summer when we took the Nevada way because the 5 Freeway is no fun with a trailer. But there was a massive fire north of Sacramento and it took us six hours to drive through the smoke while it rained ash on us. We really get to see all parts of this country while driving through it.
What do attendees walk away most with?
A real sense of humanity. Life has just been so crazy in the past years and seems to be staying on that trend. The love and feeling of acceptance that happens during an OATF day is hard to describe. When you see people who obviously had no idea it was the LGBTQ+ stage area but sat down, started watching talent, and never left, is a great thing. It’s really cool to be able to showcase our community to people who wouldn’t go to a Pride since the Fair is such a mix of the general public.
In addition to scheduling well-known national performers, you work with the city’s local queer talent. What have you learned from working with entertainers out of town, how does their queer experience differ from Southern California’s?
This is my favorite part of doing this type of event. We really do try to create programming that fits each area we serve. Drag is just as different in New Mexico as the mix of music you would expect on the stage from our festival at the San Diego County Fair. There is some amazing talent in rural areas that need to be showcased more and I am so proud we are able to give those chances. From artists in New Mexico, Oregon, California, and Alaska, the one thing they all have in common is the appreciation of being given a platform none of them thought was possible.
OATF kicks off this season at Riverside County Fair, what can audiences expect?
This OATF is always the first Pride day of the year in California and 2025 is our 3rd Annual Celebration in Indio, California, and will be our biggest yet! We are thrilled to have RuPaul’s Drag Race superstar Scarlet Envy headline our Glam Show, Drag Race guest-judge Deven Green host our OATF Bingo, and a full day of family-friendly entertainment on the Pageant Stage. You can even catch the first LGBTQ+ Mariachi group perform & grab the full family for Out At After Dark w/ DJ Lotus for our all-ages dance party. For the first time, there will be an ‘All-Inclusive’ bar on site presented by KGay Radio and we will have some amazing local queens to mingle with. Make sure you stop by the Out at the Fair® booth because Butler Amusements is partnering with us and the first 150 people will get a ticket for a free Ferris Wheel ride. We really do try to build programming for everyone & showcase the community. Check out everything going on our website today.
How will 2025’s Out at the Fair be different than past years?
There are some locations in rural America that aren’t ready for drag shows and queer artists BUT that doesn’t mean their fair doesn’t support what we do & our community. So, for the first time in 2025, we will have Safe Space locations. We want to build a space that is safe for the LGBTQ+ community in areas where it was never possible.
Why is it so important to have a queer presence at Fairs?
It is so important because there is a fair in everyone’s backyards and those were made to showcase the community they serve. Our community lives in every neighborhood, town, and rural corner of this country and they all deserve to be celebrated. There are also queer people inside the Fair industry who have never been able to perform as out performers. We have had a few bands tell us that until we were around and helping change the perception of the LGBTQ+ community, they had never performed before as themselves. From 4H kids to vendors, and office workers, there are literally queer people everywhere and it is an honor to make them finally feel welcome in an industry that never really embraced us.
An example of this was in Oregon, where we met a trans community member who had transitioned between the Fair season but wasn’t going to come back to work until they realized OATF was now at their Fair. Even the guests who don’t have a supportive family at home feel that the Fair is the only place they can be themselves. In Sonoma County, we had a few youths stop by our booth, and grab rainbow flags, but put them quickly into their bags. We asked them why. They told us that their family doesn’t approve of them wouldn’t approve of them being there and thanked us for having a welcome space. They quickly turned around and ran away down the midway.
How are the political changes toward the LGBTQ community going to affect Out at the Fair?
For now, we are seeing the people who didn’t align with our ideals be more vocal. We have also experienced an unfortunate downtick in sponsorships. We will keep pushing through! No matter what the ‘rules’ these new political times bring, Out At The Fair will always be a safe place for the full LGBTQ+ community. We also have been working closer than ever with our Fair partners to ensure the safety of these spaces. An example is Riverside County Fair will have the Riverside County Sheriff on site, Indio PD on the perimeter, their own private security, and Fire & Medical onsite. If you see something, say something so we can keep every public event safe this summer for everyone.
How can our community support the efforts of Out at the Fair?
Come to an Out At The Fair this year, we would love the in-person support and your presence speaks volumes nowadays. But if you can’t make it to one of our 13 locations in 4 states, we do have merchandise available online starting at $7 and 100% of these proceeds go to the OATF tour. It helps us to give the smaller Fairs the same production & attention as our largest Fairs. Visit www.OutattheFair.com to learn more about what we do & shop our merchandise line.
OATF Tour 2025 flyer (Photo courtesy of OATF)
a&e features
An invite-only LGBTQ+ app surged in popularity after Trump’s executive orders
Famm Connect provides a safe haven for job seekers and community support amid LGBTQ+ attacks
President Donald Trump’s latest executive order, restricting transgender individuals from serving openly in the military, has sparked a surge in activity on Famm Connect, a new professional networking app designed for the LGBTQ+ community.
The Secretary of Defense, Pete Hegseth, has a 30-day deadline for submitting a plan to execute the order. Until then, many have been turning to the invite-only platform, created in Dec. 2024, to find support, resources and career connections in the face of increasing change.
Its California-based co-founders and married couple, Marianna Di Regolo and Cat Perez, said their app has grown more than 70% within the last weeks. Di Regolo noted that the app provides a safe digital space for members fleeing those opposing their community.
“Famm Connect is our response to Trump and really anyone else who creates barriers for or discriminates against LGBTQ+ folks. So with Trump signing executive orders against our community and major organizations cutting DE&I programs and platforms like Meta removing protections for LGBTQ folks, spaces like Fam Connect are more important than ever,” Di Regolo told the Los Angeles Blade.
The LGBTQ+ community, according to Di Regolo, feels unprotected on other professional apps where hateful comments aren’t filtered, so her app serves as a haven for those looking for new jobs.
“Just in general, as a lot of us have seen, quite a few LGBTQ+ folks don’t feel safe on a lot of the other platforms, and they might be growing in their career or looking for a job or just looking to connect with other folks professionally,” she said, adding: “They’re on our platform letting folks know, ‘Hey, I’m looking for X, Y, and Z job,’… and they feel safer and more comfortable doing it in a secure space.”
As attacks on LGBTQ+ rights intensify—from political figures rolling back protections, advocates are doubling down on support for their communities, according to a spokesperson at GLAAD, a non-profit committed to LGBTQ+ advocacy and cultural change.
“Now more than ever, LGBTQ+ people are stepping up to take care of and support each other and our families. No matter what rhetoric is spewed [by] government officials or anti-LGBTQ+ extremists, our community and allies will persevere. Building community, finding and giving support, and making connections in spaces where we all can feel safe will be a critical part of surviving and thriving, no matter what we are up against.”
Trump said in his latest executive order against Trans troops that “For the sake of our Nation and the patriotic Americans who volunteer to serve it, military service must be reserved for those mentally and physically fit for duty.” This message didn’t resonate with Perez, who said Trump’s executive order is fear-mongering, among other things.
“It’s absolutely ridiculous. There’s no basis [on] which that decision was made. It is absolutely transphobia and a fear tactic that they are using and a general strategic tactic that Trump and his administration are using to distract the American people from real issues that they should be focused on for this country,” she said.
Perez also argues that his stance not only dehumanizes trans people but also ignores the reality that: “Trans people are humans. They’re human beings. “They’re absolutely capable of serving in the military, and they have, and it’s just disgusting that that is the message that he is putting out there.”
JaRel Clay, the vice president of the Board of Directors at SpeakOut, a non-profit that aims to create safe spaces across LGBTQ+ communities of color, says Famm Connect is a critical employment resource for “the trans community in the midst of attacks coming from the Trump administration.”
“We know that there is power in community, and especially for this community facing heightened risks, both in their areas and federally. An app like Famm Connect is more than a tool. It’s a lifeline,” Clay added.
Clay asserts that Trump’s rhetoric regarding the lack of mental fitness of trans-serving troops is “woefully uninformed.”
“How do you suggest that their military readiness and public service are at a disadvantage simply because they are trans? It’s, again, just woefully uninformed and ignorant,” Clay said. “It’s un-American. It is the fabric of our being that we address and assess the readiness of any individual who wants to serve our country based on the merit of how they perform.”
Perez said that she sees the LGBTQ+ community coming together and showing up for one another on the app since other platforms have censored terms like “lesbian” or other words about their community.
The Human Rights Campaign claims that Meta’s new social media policies “endanger LGBTQ+ communities.” Perez says censoring their communities is incredibly problematic, so they are building up Famm Connect.
“I think for folks who are struggling right now in the community, within their careers, I think seeking out the queer community and seeking out safe and intentional spaces and really making those connections is going to be the thing that helps get you through these turbulent times,” she noted.
Contributing writer, Eden Harris is a D.C. native with a passion for uplifting marginalized voices on a global, national and local level. She has experience covering the White House, Capitol Hill, the Supreme Court and federal agencies. She covers mainly all things Africa and is committed to doing so with the highest standards that drive true equity for the continent and its U.S. diaspora.
Events
Botitas World: the business brand aimed at building community
Cafécito and Comunidad, the event to gather in QTBIPOC community
Zizi Bandera and Ty Curiel, came together to form what is now Botitas–a small business brand and organizing space for Queer, Trans, Black, Indigenous and People of Color to celebrate and embrace identity, ethnicity and community.
The co-founders of Saturday’s Botitas event Cafécito and Comunidad, say they had to close the RSVP’s because they reached capacity and were afraid of having issues with the Parks and Recreation Department that issues parking permits and sets a limit for the number of people allowed to gather at Elysian Park in Los Angeles.
“It’s our first event here and it’s an amazing turnout,” said Bandera. “TikTok blew us up.”
Bandera referenced the TikTok video they posted announcing the event and says that they woke up the next morning to see that they had well over a hundred RSVP’s for the event that they expected would only have a couple dozen people.
“We had someone who is part of our community call up the councilmember for this district and was able to talk to whoever is in charge of Parks and Rec to OK more capacity,” said Bandera. “[Eunisses Hernandez, Councilmember CD-1] also got us the tables and permits.”
Bandera stresses that the amount of people who reserved a spot for the event comes to show the need for space like Botitas.
“I thought it was going to be maybe fifteen, twenty people,” said Bandera.
The space is held intentionally for the BIPOC community within the broader LGBTQ+ community, with the intention of centering BIPOC voices that can otherwise be erased, marginalized, sidelined or silenced in broader community conversations.
“Our focus is to have these community spaces and to serve our trans Latine community in Los Angeles and beyond,” continued Bandera. “We thought about making this project a nonprofit, but we wanted to really have full agency and control over, in terms of the needs of our community.”
Bandera says that going the nonprofit route has its own challenges and obstacles because of different stakeholders. They stress the importance of their community being the stakeholders in this business journey.
Though the day was a bit gloomy with some light rain, many people gathered to mingle, chat and yap, along with some coffee at Elysian Park in Los Angeles this past Saturday (Photo Credit Gisselle Palomera).
“I’ve been working in community organizing, mobilizing around LGBTQ and immigrant issues for almost fifteen years now and I’ve always wanted to create something that was for us, led by us–queer, trans, Latine and intergenerational.”
Bandera says that they were inspired to create this space for QTBIPOC because of a report released earlier this year pointing to a loneliness epidemic that disproportionately affects LGBTQ+ people over their heterosexual peers.
The report states that ”…LGBTQ+ youth exhibit higher rates of loneliness, social isolation, and depressive symptoms than their heterosexual peers. Moreover, LGBTQ+ youth grappling with loneliness are less likely to reach out for help regarding their mental health concerns.’
The other co-founder of Botitas has different reasons to have started this business journey.
“Botitas is one day today and another thing tomorrow,” Curiel said. “Our idea came from wanting to create a brand–something that you can wear when you’re out and about in the city. A brand that is backed by people who resonate with you as Latine folks, queer, trans and that’s what we are.”
Curiel also states that the current state of politics also plays a major role in his idea to create Botitas. “We want to [create these spaces], especially in this time and age where there’s a rhetoric of people spreading hate.”
This event is in a public space, encouraging people who show up, to gather in a space that supports sobriety. The offerings included cafécito, pastries and games.
Earlier this year during pride month, Curiel says he and Bandera were looking at historic news articles and photographs of LGBTQ+ life in Los Angeles during the 1950s and 60s, from an exhibit at the Central Library in DTLA, and that’s when it hit them both that none of the people in the photos looked like them. They did not feel represented.
This moment urged them to reconsider what it means to them to feel represented, heard and seen–thus bringing about the idea for Botitas.
Follow @Botitas.World on Instagram and TikTok to get more information on upcoming events.
Arts & Entertainment
Meet the whimsical, fairy-core Uber driver who drives a car named Mollie
Nonbinary Uber driver, Caspian Larkins is rolling on Mollie– no, not that one
Forest green faux fur, rhinestones, a fabric-lined ceiling, planted faux flowers and green plastic grass adorn the inside of an anthropomorphized car named Mollie who spends her days riding off into the sunset on Sunset Blvd in West Hollywood and beyond.
The driver of this 2008 Ford Escape, Caspian Larkins, 24 and a Cancer sign, moved to Los Angeles to pursue acting and through a series of humbling restaurant jobs and other side hustles, ended up driving for Uber. Though working for Uber was not on Larkins’ bingo card for 2021, they wanted to find a way to make the experience not only fun for themself, but also for the people who roll on Mollie.
Larkins, who identifies as nonbinary and queer, grew up being one with nature in the wilderness of Oregon and when you step inside Mollie, it feels like a little magical, mystical slice of Oregonian forest–of course if it were reimagined on four wheels and zooming through traffic in Los Angeles.
Forest green faux fur and a pink ruffle with a layer of tiny fabric roses, line the doors. Stickers on the sunroof and windows reflect rainbow hues across the white leather seats and passengers. (Photo credit Gisselle Palomera)
Going viral overnight doesn’t happen to just anyone, but this iconic duo now have thousands of followers on social media and have big plans for the future.
ShaVonne Boggs, a content creator who hailed an Uber ride from Larkins, posted an Instagram reel of the ride and featured Larkins in all their fairy-core glory, driving through L.A traffic, with the viral Gwen Stefani ‘Just a Girl,’ audio clip playing over.
“I went to bed that night with a couple hundred followers on my account and I woke up the next day and I had gained like 3,000 followers,” said Larkins.
Larkins has a unique sense of style that incorporates nature, fashion and sustainability, often foraging for materials from the side of the road to add to the car and accepting donated fabrics from people who reach out to them through social media.
“I’m a forager. What can I say?,” said Larkins and then jokingly added that Jeff Bezos also personally delivers some of the items they use to decorate Mollie.
“I come across stuff on the street sometimes that I’ll pick up, put in my car and repurpose.”
Larkins says that Mollie is a little bit dinged up and bruised up from the outside, but that it’s the inside that truly matters.
There is a third character in this story that resides on the inside of the car at all times.
Jack Aranda is the name of the guardian angel of this fairytale ride. It is a miniature rubber ducky that was given to Larkins by a spiritual witch that opted for an Uber drive, over a broom one night.
“It was midnight, by Venice Beach and you know it was good vibes, but yea she gets in and we’re talking and she’s like ‘I’m going to give you this duck,’ and gives me this little tiny purple good luck duck,” said Larkins. “So I kept the good luck duck and I put him on my dashboard.”
Larkins says that ever since this encounter, the luck in their car changed.
“Red lights will always turn green for me, and sometimes someone will run a red light and miss [hitting] me and I just think it’s divine intervention because of Jack.”
Larkins poses in front of their car Mollie on a road in West Hollywood, CA. (Photo Credit Gisselle Palomera)
Larkins says that the decorated interior and its elements serves not only as a conversation starter, but also as a filter from unwanted conversations and painfully boring small talk.
“I think that since I’ve decorated my car, it’s like my filter,” said Larkins. “The people who get in and are like, ‘Oh my god,’ those are my people and those are the ones that I’m there for. And the ones that get in and are silent, I just let them sit there and soak in the rainbows.”
They say that there have been more good interactions, than bad ones and more people who ‘get it,’ than those who don’t.
Anthropomorphizing cars is nothing new to pop culture. In fact, cars have almost always had names and it is almost a part of engrained American culture to assign personalities to them based on their cosmetic characteristics.
The earliest examples on TV go as far back as the 1940s and some of the most memorable examples are Christine, the possessed, killer Camaro from Stephen King’s imaginative mind.
Or Herbie, the 1963 Volkswagen Racing Beetle from the early cartoon TV show Herbie, the Love Bug.
In everyday routine, people spend so much time and energy on and around inanimate objects, that they sort of become meaningful elements who accompany us on our journeys from here to there–and back.
“What I’m doing now with her is switching out different designs with the seasons,” said Larkins.
Larkins drives around Los Angeles and West Hollywood, picking up and dropping off people from all walks of life. (Photo Credit Gisselle Palomera)
“So right now we have our spring/summer look and a lot of the things in there are removable, velcroed and stapled.”
They say that right now they are exploring a very niche area of automotive interior design that they feel has not been explored within vehicles recently.
“It’s just hard for other people to conceptualize it and what I often describe to people, comes off as very tacky and just kind of nasty– not demure, not cute.”
Larkins feel they are really just now setting the stage for what’s possible, as far as interior customizations.
“I want to start creating this world in which design plays a bigger role in what a car could be and the experience of just being transported,” said Larkins candidly. “I want to invite people into my little delusional fantasies.”
Larkins believes that even in the present and near future of self-driving vehicles, they would like to collaborate with these major self-driving car companies and take part in designing and customizing the vehicles so that it can be a pleasurable and fun experience for riders who might feel anxiety about self-driving technology.
The inside of Mollie is adorned from top to bottom and from left to right. (Photo Credit Gisselle Palomera)
Modifying and customizing cars has been a part of the North American experience since the early 1930s. Now, attention is shifting toward the addition of technologies like Augmented Reality, to enhance the experience of driving and getting from point A to point B, and also using that technology to navigate the vehicle without a driver.
There are now endless possibilities when it comes to custom car culture and Larkins feels this is their place to explore and forage for the looks that people want and can’t even imagine.
“I want to step away from driving for the platforms and I would love to design with them,” said Larkins. “There is a group of people that are in support of this future technology and there is this other group of people that are kind of scared of it because it feels very cold and very uninviting and very new, so I would like to be the one to sort of bridge that gap for those people and make it less scary.”
The vision that Larkins has, is that they would like to reimagine the possibilities of custom interiors with interchangeable parts and additions that one could only think of as synonymous to Barbie and her endlessly fun assortment of interchangeable outfit components.
Larkins sees a long future ahead, where they have the opportunity to collaborate with airlines, rideshare companies and any other sponsors who are willing to make their visions come to reality. Until then, they will continue to weave up and down the asphalt arteries of WeHo and beyond, rolling on Mollie and working on their fairytale ending.
Features
The little idea that could: These queer, Latinx, DJs are shifting the scene in LA
‘All you jotas, grab your botas!’
The rallying call urges all the Spanish-speaking and corrido-loving sapphics, butchonas, jotas and vaqueeras, to grab their boots and meet up at Little Joy Cocktails for a carne asada-style, family party every fourth Sunday of the month, featuring spins by DJ Lady Soul, DJ French and DJ Killed By Synth.
In Los Angeles, these three disc jockeys have embraced the word buchona, adding the ‘t’ as a play on the word butch.
The free event, now locally known as Butchona, is a safe space for all the Mexican and Spanish music-loving lesbians to gather on the last Sunday of every month.
Buchona is usually a term used in Mexico and other Spanish-speaking countries to describe a woman who is a boss– someone who exudes dominant energy or marries into a powerful position.
“I didn’t know how well [the idea for Butchona] was going to be received and my favorite part of all that, has been the looks everyone has been bringing,” said Rocio Flores, who goes by DJ Lady Soul.
DJ Lady Soul poses outside of Little Joy Cocktails in her butchona outfit.
The event that started only a few months ago, brings in dozens of dressed-up jotas. The ‘looks’ that the crowds bring are reminiscent of how dad’s, tíos, and their friends dressed at Mexican family parties: a tejana, cowboy boots, giant belt buckle and a beer in hand.
Dressing up in these looks is a way to show wealth and status to earn the respect of other males in a male-dominated and -centered culture– that is until now.
This traditionally male, Mexican, cultural identity, is something that has never been embraced or accessible to women or gender non-conforming people. The giant belt buckles that are traditionally custom-made and specific to male identities like head of household, ‘only rooster in the chicken coop’ and lone wolf, are only part of the strictly cis-gendered male clothes that dominate the culture.
The embroidered button-ups, belt buckles and unique cowboy hats –all come together to create the masculine looks that are now being reclaimed by women and gender nonconforming people at the event curated by three queer, Mexican DJs, who once had a little idea that could.
Flores, 37, (she/her), Gemini, says that to her the term butchona describes a woman who is a little ‘chunti,’ a little cheap in the way she dresses– but in a queer way.
“That title also means that you’re a badass,” she said. “I want to look like that señor, I want to look like that dude and now I feel like I could, so why not?”
Flores says that now she feels like she can embrace and reclaim that cultural identity, but it wasn’t always that easy.
At first, her family upheld the traditional cisgender roles that forced her to dress more feminine, but she always wanted to dress like her cousins and her tíos.
“Now, I’m like: ‘Fuck that!’ I’m going to wear the chalecos and the Chalino suits,” she said in Span-glish.
The Chalino suits are traditional, Mexican, suits that were worn and popularized by Chalino Sanchez, known as the King of corridos—a genre of music that is said to have originated on the border region of Texas, Tamaulipas and Nuevo León, Mexico.
“It felt good to break into the DJ scene, but what I always noticed was that the lesbian culture was always lacking,” said DJ Lady Soul. “I would mainly see gay males at parties and a lot of male DJs.”
According to Zippia–a career site that sources their information from the U.S. Bureau of Labor and Statistics and the U.S. Census–23.5 percent of disc jockeys are women, 16 percent are LGBTQ+ and only 12.7 percent are Hispanic or Latin American.
What has always been a traditionally machista music genre and scene, is now being embraced by a growing number of queer women and non-male DJs in Los Angeles.
For Fran Fregoso, who goes by DJ French, 33, (they/she), Taurus– embracing their cultural identity came a lot easier because of their late uncle who sort of paved the way for them to come out as queer and be more accepted than he was as the first openly out queer person in their family.
Their music journey began listening to the 90s grunge, alternative, hip-hop and metal music played by their older siblings at home.
“Then I met Vanessa [DJ Killed By Synth], and she introduced me to the industry,” said DJ French.
DJ French felt the acceptance and support to enter this music space and decided to embrace their cultural roots by playing music that they grew up listening to at family parties. They booked their first gig with Cumbiatón LA, a collective of DJs and organizers who host Latin American parties across Los Angeles, often centering queer DJs and other performers.
“When [Lady Soul and Killed By Synth], brought this idea up to create Butchona, I was like: ‘Oh, I’m in 100 percent’,” they said. “Because I love playing corridos and banda music because that’s a core memory from my childhood and family parties.”
Banda, corridos, cumbias and other traditional music is a big part of Mexican culture, even as gendered and male-centered as it has been, it is embraced by all.
“I know a lot of people in our queer, Latino, community love that music too, but they also want to be in a safe space,” they said. “That’s where we decided to make an environment for our community to dance and be themselves.”
Vanessa Bueno, 40, (she/her), Libra, who goes by DJ Killed By Synth, says her journey started about 20 years ago when she started DJing for backyard parties in East L.A. and across L.A. County.
Her family is from Guadalajara, so she says that growing up she also had a lot of family parties with corridos and banda blaring in the background of memories with the many cousins she says she lost count of.
“A lot of the music we heard was bachata, banda, cumbia and even some 80s freestyle,” said Bueno.
Even while she had a ‘little punk rocker phase,’ she says she couldn’t escape that Spanish music her family played ritualistically at family get-togethers.
When they began their music journey–back in the AOL, Instant Messenger days, they played a lot more electronic music, hence the name Killed by Synth. At first, it was just a username, but then it became her DJ name.
“Later down the line, comes [the idea for] Butchona came about, and me, Rocio and French collaborated,” she said. “It’s kind of always been my goal to create these safe spaces for women and queer people, and I had been in the scene long enough to where people were willing to answer my calls to work with them to make it happen.”
For Bueno, it was natural for her to build community and embrace this part of their culture later on in her career when she saw a need for queer, Latin American-centered club spaces with family party vibes.
She started hosting Latin American-style parties, blending music, culture, and food and attracting the exact audience she envisioned. With these events, Bueno aimed to reclaim her Mexican identity and foster a sense of family and community at these events.
“We’re here to build a safe space to embrace the music and kind of not think about the machismo that is tied to it and celebrate who we are,” said Bueno.
According to the U.S. Department of Labor and Statistics, California, Texas, New York, Arizona and Washington rank the highest in employment rates for disc jockeys in 2023. There is also a recent trend in more women DJs–the study does not include gender nonconforming DJs–booking twice as many gigs as men in event spaces and concerts that host DJ sets.
“It feels like we’re barely cracking into these safe spaces and expanding our horizons a little bit,” said DJ French. “I hope this inspires other people to also create safe spaces like Butchona.”
The next Butchona event will be on Sunday, Oct. 27 and will feature all three DJs playing corridos, banda, cumbia and all the classics, for a chunti Halloween party.
Features
1st time West Texas has a permanent LGBTQ+ community center
A local volunteer died by suicide ahead of the center’s grand opening, reminding the West Texas community why such spaces are important
By Carlos Nogueras Ramos | ODESSA, Texas — Patty Reeves stood centerstage overlooking a park dotted with dozens of people from West Texas’ LGBTQ+ community. There were clusters of families and friend groups. A local church brought congregants who sat in lawn chairs in the front row.
The cheerful atmosphere at the fifth annual pride festival in West Texas had shifted. A suicide had rocked the community. Luna Harris, a 19-year-old gender-nonconforming person, died two days earlier.
As a warm gust carried dust through the park, Reeves delivered her speech.
“What I see in West Texas is a community that says, ‘I am here. I am thriving. You will not erase us,’” she said.
Like many present that day, Reeves, the president of PFLAG’s Midland and Odessa chapter, wanted to believe in her message. But at that moment, she couldn’t.
“I said those words because that’s what I hope for,” Reeves said offstage. “But then I thought: Are we really?”
The sudden loss hovered over the festivities meant to close a busy week of events, which included the grand opening of a brick-and-mortar community center for the region’s LGBTQ+ community.
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(Photo Credit: Callie Cummings for The Texas Tribune)
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(Photo Credit: Callie Cummings for The Texas Tribune)
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It was also, Reeves and others said, a sobering reminder that underscored how necessary spaces like the festival and the community center are — especially in a state such as Texas where Republican lawmakers and other policymakers are working to limit how LGBTQ+ people live their lives.
During the last decade, several organizations that support the Permian Basin’s LGBTQ+ community have sprung up. None have had a permanent — and visible — home of their own. That changed in April when Pride Center West Texas opened its doors to the public.
The center’s grand opening was four years in the making. It all started when Bryan and Clint Wilson moved to Midland, from Florida in 2020. Amid the COVID-19 pandemic, the couple shuttered their consulting services to move back and be closer to family.
The married couple had been active in LGBTQ+ nonprofits in Florida, and registered Pride Center West Texas as a nonprofit with plans to open a center once they settled. That summer, the first center opened on the third floor of a building in downtown Odessa with a conference room and group spaces, Clint said.
The center outgrew that space. And in 2021, they moved the center to another building downtown, next to a bank. There, the Wilsons, volunteers and the center’s board held events and group sessions for two years before outgrowing the space again. In 2023, the couple moved the center to a church. But after the Wilsons held a drag show for adults, members of the church’s board voted to evict them. Until this year, the couple operated the center out of Sanctuary Wyrd, a shop that sells gems, crystals and art — and has doubled as a refuge, opening its doors to other organizations that hosted monthly meetings and movie nights.
Now the center is tucked away in a nondescript strip mall behind a busy Italian restaurant.
A rainbow placard hangs on the glass facing the street. At the entrance, the Wilsons have placed desks for people to work at. They do not charge patrons for using the space. A clerk sits by the window, welcoming every straggler. Farther down the hall, visitors may chat on a sofa and chairs while others study the collection of books on a shelf. Pamphlets containing information about sexually transmitted diseases line the countertop of a bar area in the back.
Among its programming, it offers youth groups for adults aged 18-25 to discuss different subjects. Some weeks, it hosts group discussions on religion. On Fridays, visitors can drop in for Queer Connection, a support group for adults. The center also offers its space as an office to other local organizations serving the LGBTQ+ community.
Reeves, the PFLAG president, also moved to Midland from Arlington in 2020 with her husband and trans teenager, Milo. Before looking for a house, Reeves said, she and her husband searched for available resources for her teen, who is now 17. Bryan and Clint helped the family by connecting them to the local network of organizations focused on supporting LGBTQ+ youth. Reeves volunteered for a year before becoming president of PFLAG in 2021.
“Finding the Pride Center was the best thing that happened to us,” Reeves said. “I came as a parent, I didn’t know what to do.”
Funding such community centers is a priority for Texas Pride Impact Fund, a nonprofit charity organization that grants money to support programs and community centers across Texas. Since 2018, it has awarded $2 million to organizations in Abilene, Corpus Christi, El Paso, Lubbock, Eagle Pass, the Rio Grande Valley and others. The fund traveled to Odessa in June to document the center and show the results of its work to donors in Fort Worth.
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(Photo Credit: Callie Cummings for The Texas Tribune)
Ron Guillard, the fund’s executive director, said it’s unclear how many similar organizations exist across Texas — especially outside the major metropolitan areas. A national database suggested there are 20, but not all operate out of a physical space. For many, Guillard said, a brick-and-mortar is aspirational.
Míchél Macklin, the fund’s communications and administrative coordinator, said rural community centers do more with a fraction of the budget of bigger cities. A challenge for the community hubs like the West Texas center, they said, is working with scarce resources. The fund found that the support the organizations provide to each other has enabled their success.
“I think the folks who are in the Permian Basin are creating connective tissue among each other and pooling the resources, however small they may be … to create a larger compound or silo of resources that can be shared among one another,” Macklin said.
Guillard agreed: “What I find most striking is that [rural centers] appear to be more cohesive than the major cities because they’re led by a younger set of activists,” Guillard said. “Especially in towns like Eagle Pass and Odessa, there are communities, those on the frontlines working across the spectrum. And they understand that that is the fight.”
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Guillard said he had seen promising examples of other LGBTQ+ organizations aiming to open brick-and-mortar centers in El Paso, Corpus Christi and the Rio Grande Valley.
Harris, the 19-year-old who died by suicide, was a regular volunteer at the center since 2022. They helped organize meetings and events. And they helped produce the local Pride celebration, often performing original songs. Full of ideas, they proposed a chocolate bar stand and a firecracker sale to help raise money.
They were talkative and outgoing, their friends said. They wrote songs and performed them with an operatic tone, people close to them said. In high school, Harris sang in a choir. For the 2024 Pride festival, Harris had volunteered to face-paint and perform a song.
The Wilsons and other advocates were stunned. How could this happen to someone so deeply involved with the tight-knit community?
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“What is enough?” Clint said. “How many resources are enough resources? What is enough for a community to feel accepted? It’s a very hard question.”
Nationwide, 42% of transgender adults will attempt suicide, according to a 2023 report by the Williams Institute at the UCLA School of Law, which used data from the U.S. Transgender Population Health Survey. Nearly as many, 44%, said they considered it.
Contributing to this harsh reality in Texas is a Legislature that has introduced scores of bills seeking to regulate how LGBTQ+ people live. Republican lawmakers filed more than 100 bills between the last legislative session and the following special sessions. Some passed, including a ban on puberty blockers and hormone therapy for trans kids, limiting the college sports teams trans athletes can join and an attempt to limit where drag performances can take place.
“All LGBTQ people have to be really resilient because we know our rights are always on the line,” said Brad Pritchett, deputy director of Equality Texas, a statewide political advocacy organization. “In places like Texas, where you’re under a constant barrage from lawmakers trying to find new and creative ways to harm your community, it really does take an extra ounce of resilience to continue saying, ‘This is my home, I’m not leaving it, I’m gonna stay and defend it.’”
While LGBTQ+ organizations have been staples in major American cities since the 1970s, it has only been in the last decade that similar groups have started in Midland and Odessa. Among them are the West Texas chapter of PFLAG, the first organization in the country dedicated to advocating for LGBTQ+ people and their families, which arrived in Midland and Odessa in 2014. There is also Out West Texas, which serves transgender West Texans and started in 2017, and Basin Pride, founded in 2019, has arranged the logistics for putting together Pride festivals.
“This is hard work, to keep the community going,” said Adriana Aguilar, who joined Basin Pride in 2021 and now serves as its chair. Aguilar, 28, volunteered for the center in 2020.
The effort to establish and grow more inclusive spaces can draw unwanted attention.
Last January, Aguilar, Basin Pride chair, said she and a group of volunteers attempted to host a family-friendly, Barbie-themed event that included a drag show and local artists. The group secured a venue, performers and volunteers. But days before the event, organized protesters flocked the surrounding area, and the county sheriff was called. Agitators threatened Aguilar with protests. Aguilar postponed the event indefinitely. And because of the event, several sponsors who had offered to support the Pride festival backed out. Aguilar said she had two months to regroup and find other financial supporters.
“Basin Pride is growing, which is great,” she said. “But that means we have more eyes on us, that we’re under certain radars that we weren’t before.”
And on Tuesday, an Odessa City Council member suggested the city should limit the use of public restrooms based on a person’s sex assigned at birth, the Odessa American reported. Such policies are routinely used to discriminate against transgender people.
Other Odessans have responded positively to their growth — or are at least indifferent.
Earlier this year, the center began hosting a bingo night at the Odessa Veterans of Foreign Wars hall. The Wilsons and other volunteers wear grey shirts with long, pink sleeves, floating through the hall selling bingo cards and dobbers. Lorraine Wilson, Bryan’s mom, calls the evening’s numbers.
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It was Lorraine’s idea. She proposed it to Rick Mitchell, the VFW hall’s commander in February, who then brought it to his members for a vote. It was unanimous.
“They’re a human being just like I’m a human being is the way I see it,” said Mitchell, a lifelong conservative from Kermit who lives in Odessa. “It doesn’t affect me one bit.”
Samantha Washington has been playing bingo at the hall for 15 years. The 49-year-old introduced her daughters, Elisha and Mesha, to the tradition. Bingo nights are a family getaway, she said. That the proceeds from Monday night help fund the Pride Center doesn’t bother her one bit, she said, so long as there is bingo.
“I don’t mind supporting them,” Washington said. “It’s people’s rights.”
The proceeds from bingo night don’t cover the expenses of running the center, but it helps, the Wilsons said. The couple hopes they will someday earn enough from that and other grants to expand their services and reach.
After Harris’ death, they said, their services are crucial to the community.
“We have to be able to give what we have now,” Clint said. “We have to rally and still continue what we have now. The main question that Bryan and I had was, how could this happen on our watch? It forces us to see how we can improve our reach.”
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Carlos Nogueras Ramos is a regional reporter based in Odessa. Carlos joined The Texas Tribune in 2023 in partnership with Report for America. Carlos tells the stories of Texas from the vast energy-rich Permian Basin region. Before the Tribune, Carlos spent time in Philadelphia writing about local politics, including the city’s 100th mayoral election. A Spanish speaker, Carlos was one of the few Latino reporters on the campaign trail, covering the most expensive primary election to date in Philly. He is a proud Puerto Rico native, born and raised in Cayey. He studied at Berklee College of Music in Boston and the University of Puerto Rico.
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The preceding article was previously published by The Texas Tribune and is republished with permission.
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Features
Second Thought: New film short explores now, then & a future
In light of the overwhelmingly positive reception their short film has garnered, the young queer filmmakers look to the future
BOSTON, Mass. – In an unexpected yet delightful turn, YouTube personality Chris Stanley and friend and TikTok sensation Art Bezrukavenko have ventured into filmmaking with their debut indie film, Second Thought.
The two new gay filmmakers were recently in Boston for Pride festivities and took a moment to share their insights with the Los Angeles Blade about their debut film short, which has been met with enthusiastic praise and critical acclaim. Their successful transition from social media influencers to filmmakers marks an exciting new chapter in their careers, promising more creative ventures ahead.
Second Thought (With Spoilers)
Despite their lack of filmmaking experience, ‘Second Thought’ shines with impressive acting and the pair’s shared eye for cinematography, set against the picturesque backdrop of Cape Cod’s Provincetown, also known as P-town—a historic and vibrant LGBTQ+ resort haven in Massachusetts.
Located at the tip of Cape Cod, it’s celebrated for a rich LGBTQ+ culture, beautiful beaches, charming B&Bs, and lively queer bars. The town’s transformation into an art and gay mecca began after the 1898 Atlantic hurricane season, attracting artists, bohemians, and the nascent queer community. By the 1920s, Provincetown had firmly established itself as a queer-friendly destination, a legacy that continues today. It’s no wonder John Waters, Baltimore’s famed out gay director and writer, calls P-town his second home.
Second Thought, written and co-produced by Bezrukavenko and Stanley, explores the complexities of modern gay dating and the diverse experiences within the LGBTQ+ community. The film stars the duo, with Stanley and Jimmy Martin co-directing the project.
The narrative follows two young men, portrayed by Stanley and Bezrukavenko, who meet on Grindr shortly after arriving in P-town. They exchange messages and quickly arrange to meet at a local bar. What follows is a candid depiction of a hookup, tastefully shot to convey intimacy without explicit content.
However, the morning brings a twist: Bezrukavenko’s character sneaks out and blocks Stanley’s character on the app, leaving him feeling rejected and disheartened – a scenario based loosely on both filmmakers’ personal experiences.
“I’ve definitely had experiences like that,” Bezrukavenko told the Blade. “There have been nights when I thought, oh my God, that was such a great night. And then, you know, we wake up in the morning and the guy tells me okay, go away.”
“I didn’t really have a lot of experience with hookup culture,” Stanley admits, “Although I can relate to the ghosting part. When I was trying to talk to guys before I met Bret [Stanley’s boyfriend of three years] for sure.”
The film then cleverly rewinds to their initial bar encounter, offering an alternative storyline. This time, the characters spend the evening talking, flirting, and enjoying a series of sweet activities around the quaint town. The poignant climax shows the two men as an older couple, having spent their lives together, enriched by the deep connection they fostered by avoiding the pitfalls of meaningless and empty immediate sex.
Gay Hookup Culture
In an article by Vox Media, gay psychiatrist Jack Turban, explores the effects of Grindr on gay men’s mental health. Grindr (which is featured in ‘Second Thought’ as the catalyst for the two protagonists meeting) and similar apps like Scruff and Jack’d, with millions of users, are designed for easy, anonymous, LGBTQ+ sexual encounters. While these apps promote sexual liberation, Turban concludes that they may also harm mental health.
Turban conducted an informal survey on Grindr, posing as a medical writer. He received many responses revealing that many users find the app addictive due to the brain’s pleasure responses, triggered by the unpredictable rewards, akin to gambling’s infamous slot machines, which make it hard to stop using the hookup app.
Grindr provides temporary relief from anxiety and depression, but many users feel worse after using it. They log on to escape negative emotions, only to feel more isolated and anxious after shallow interactions and hookups. Despite this, the cycle of temporary relief and subsequent distress continues.
As is the case at the beginning of ‘Second Thought’, Turban finds that some men struggle to form lasting relationships due to Grindr’s hypersexualized nature. The app’s convenience leads to sex-first interactions, which don’t typically result in meaningful connections. This behavior can also damage self-esteem and hinder relationship-building skills.
Although the film does not explicitly oppose hookup culture, Stanley and Bezrukavenko, both in committed three-year long relationships, believe that developing a long-term connection requires more depth than what Grindr typically offers.
“Excitement comes and goes,” says Bezrukavenko. “It’s not always easy, and it is not always like those early days. I think the issue is that in a lot of couples, people start off very, very excited, right? But then that excitement kind of fades away and then people stop fighting for each other. You know what I mean? People give up too fast and they want some fresh new thing. But relationships take work. Relationships are friendship and partnership first, and then passion. You need to date your best friend.”
In Bezrukavenko’s experience, putting the work into a relationship is well worth it. “Passion is a great word because a lot of people have a misconception of what love and what passion is. They think that they should be passionate all the time, but passion comes and goes and then it returns and then it can be doubled. And in my case, I had the most passionate after, two and a half years in my current relationship. I would have not ever thought that it’s possible.”
Stanley agrees wholeheartedly with his friend and co-creator, believing that communication is the glue that holds a long-term relationship together. “I would say communication is really important. Once you stop telling your partner things or if you’re keeping things from them, the relationship just shuts down. So, yeah I would say it’s important to always keep an open dialogue conversation, telling each other what you like, what you don’t like, and working together on things while feeling comfortable to share whatever is on your minds.”
Coming Out (Chris Stanley)
(Photo Credit: Stanley/Instagram)
Growing up in a close-knit community in New Hampshire, Stanley navigated the complexities of coming out during his high school years, facing both rejection and support along the way.
“I came out when I was a sophomore in high school, and it didn’t really go well for me,” he reflected. While his family embraced his identity, the response at school was markedly different. “My main friend group, about five guys, ghosted me the very next day after I came out,” he recalled.
The sudden ostracization was a significant blow for Stanley, who had assumed his friends had always known about his sexual orientation.
“I used to act stereotypically gay when I was trying to be funny, and my friends would always joke about it being real. So, I was shocked when they reacted that way,” he explains. The loss of his friends and the ensuing awkwardness at school led Chris to quit the soccer team, despite being one of its best players.
“Senior year was a bit better,” Stanley noted, mentioning that the team even tried to recruit him back. However, the trust issues and the hurt from his earlier experiences made it impossible for him to return. “They sent the team captain to ask me to play again, but I said no,” he stated firmly.
Despite the challenges, his love for the sport never waned. Last year, he discovered and joined a gay soccer team in Boston. “It was really fun to play again with a bunch of gay guys and queer people. It felt good to be competitive again, although I did hurt my knee trying to go too hard,” he says, laughing.
(Photo Credit: Stanley/Instagram)
Now at 24, Stanley has built a strong relationship with his family, including his boyfriend of three years, Bret. “My parents just want me to be happy,” he says, highlighting the support he receives from his mom and dad. His father’s acceptance was particularly meaningful, especially after learning that his uncle was also gay. “I didn’t realize my uncle was gay until after I came out to my dad,” he revealed. “That was a surprise.”
Stanley’s journey from isolation to acceptance has also fueled his creative passions. During his high school years, when he often found himself sitting alone at lunch, he turned to writing. “I would eat my food as fast as I could and then go to the library to write short gay stories and poems,” he recalled.
Today, Stanley continues to create, sharing his work on YouTube with a supportive community and enjoying life with Bret by his side.
Coming Out (Art Bezrukavenko)
Art Bezrukavenko grew up in Eastern Ukraine, in a city where being gay was not openly acknowledged. “I was 17 years old, and there were no gay people in my school or my city,” he recalls. The lack of representation left Art feeling isolated, unable to find role models or a community to relate to.
At 17, Bezrukavenko moved to Poland to study and escape the war near his hometown. His time in Poland was marked by academic achievements, earning a degree in International Relations and Business. Despite his accomplishments, Art was still not fully comfortable exposing his sexual orientation.
“I worked and studied in Poland for three years but didn’t come out,” he shares. “I did try to come out to my mom once, but she told me, It’s okay. We can see a therapist and fix this.” Bezrukavenko had also tried to come out to a close girlfriend, but in return, he received a lecture on the moral obligations of a man and woman to procreate together. Both experiences left him with a bitter taste when it came to publicly embracing his sexual orientation.
Bezrukavenko’s quest for a new life brought him to the United States where he spent time in Maryland and then Chicago, living in Northalsted (also known as Boystown) one of the most country’s inclusive LGBTQ+ communities and the oldest officially recognized gay neighborhood in the United States. It’s known for its welcoming vibe, nonstop nightlife, LGBTQ-owned businesses, and excellent dining options. It’s also the center of some of Chicago’s most popular events and festivals. His time was spent working as a waiter.
Art moved on to Los Angeles with dreams of becoming an actor. He had previously won competitions in journalism and playwriting, including a poignant play about living with HIV, inspired by a friend. However, his stint in LA was short-lived and tumultuous. “It was messy,” he reflected, eventually returning to Chicago and then back to Maryland as the COVID-19 pandemic began. “I was a stripper for a short time…But LA was not for me.”
(Photo Credit: Bezrukavenko/Instagram)
It was in Austin, Texas, where Art began to embrace his identity more openly. He started to explore the dating scene and came out to his mother for the second time. This time, however, the conversation had a more supportive outcome. His mother accepted him, a significant step in his journey toward self-acceptance. The two now maintain a close relationship.
Bezrukavenko’s confidence grew as he shared his experiences on TikTok, connecting with a broader audience. “I decided to embrace who I am and realized I can benefit from being gay,” he said. His online presence became a platform for sharing his story and supporting others in similar situations.
Today, Bezrukavenkot is 27 years old and living in New York City with his supportive boyfriend of three years. “I was almost 24 when I came out officially, and now I have a boyfriend,” he shared. His relationship has provided stability and happiness, something he had long sought for himself.
A future
In light of the overwhelmingly positive reception their short film ‘Second Thought’ has garnered in just the YouTube community alone, Stanley and Bezrukavenko are excited about the possibility of creating a Christmas movie and further refining their filmmaking skills. Romantically, in the long term Bezrukavenko envisions himself getting married and having children, while Stanley prefers to take life day by day, embracing whatever comes his way.
Finally, the new filmmakers shared these closing thoughts:
“Choices shape our lives,” says Bezrukavenko. “It’s important to stay true to yourself. You can do anything, whether it’s being in a relationship or just hooking up, as long as you are being true to yourself.”
“It gets better,” says Stanley. “Use your experiences and adversities to your advantage. Never give up on what you want to do. After I came out in high school, those were the worst years of my life, but they led me to create my favorite project ever.”
Watch the film here:
Features
Queer TikToker Nicky Champa: Social media & balancing life
Champa shared his thoughts on the profound impact of TikTok highlighting both the positive and negative aspects of the platform
LOS ANGELES – As I joined the line of customers snaking out the door of a popular Studio City café that resembles a small cottage, I spotted a young man with cheekbones so sharp they could chisel granite already waiting for me.
He smiled warmly and waved. I left my place on the sidewalk to join him inside the cozy café. We hugged, and he told me, “Oh my God. You are stunning!” to which I replied, “Thank you. So are you!” I like to think we could tell we both meant it.
After placing our orders at the counter, flanked by a glass cases brimming with massive sweet treats, we navigated the deceptively deep and winding interior of the cottage. We eventually emerged onto the wraparound outdoor patio, investigating every free parcel of seating real estate until we decided on an indoor spot in a tucked-away corner. I placed my phone on the wooden table between us as we awaited our coffees and began recording, capturing the hum of relaxed conversations all around us as Nick Champa started sharing his story with me.
Nick “Nicky” Champa (28) is a household name in the digital world. With nearly 13 million followers on TikTok, he has captured the hearts of many through his videos, candidly sharing his every day life as a young gay man living in LA. A former NYU acting student, Champa is also known for his roles in “Deadlocked” (2020), “Charmers” (2021), and “Astrid Clover” (2014),
Early days
Champa, born in Dallas, Texas and raised in Syracuse, New York, said that his seemingly perfect family life was disrupted by his parents’ divorce when he was just 11 years old. “The divorce was messy. It was a 10-year court battle. Until that point, I thought it was just as perfect as it looked.”
Champa described his upbringing before the divorce as privileged, with a successful father and a stay-at-home mother. However, the separation shattered this idyllic life, forcing him to adopt a new and more sombre reality. “My mom had to work; it was a dramatic change in reality that really changed my whole childhood,” Champa said. “I had to do things that my dad used to do. I was in charge of the yard and all the chores, and I was an emotional support for my mom and brother. I had to grow up very, very fast.”
Champa explained that experiencing his home breaking so suddenly had a traumatic effect on the young actor. “My dad very much neglected us and he made it a very torturous experience for us. I had to testify in court a bunch of times. It was very traumatic.”
While Champa did not speak to his father for years after the divorce, they eventually rekindled their relationship after Champa graduated from high school, although, he explained, the relationship is still strained by memories of past hurt.
On the other hand, Champa’s bond with his mother remains exceptionally strong. “My mother and I are very, very close,” Champa said. “We became best friends. We have a great relationship; not everyone understands it. I tell her everything—literally everything. There is not one thing I wouldn’t be able to tell my mom, from boyfriends to sex life. I tell her everything.”
Coming Out
“I’ve never really identified with being gay. I prefer to call myself queer,” Champa said. Despite participating in sports and exhibiting traditionally “masculine” traits, “whatever that means,” Chapa added, he also enjoyed painting his nails and engaging in artistic pursuits. “I was confused growing up. My mom was not shocked when I came out, but it’s not like she necessarily knew I was gay.”
“The way I came out is actually really funny,” Champa said, laughing as he recounted a memorable coming-out experience that occurred after a night partying in West Hollywood. While exploring his newfound sexual identity, a one-night stand landed Champa in a precarious situation when, while doing the deed at this beau’s house, he accidentally crashed through the glass shower door, leaving shattered glass and blood all over the bathroom floor.
The incident left him needing over 100 stitches, and he had to call his mother from the hospital to get his insurance information. “I told her I had been having sex with a girl, and she asked what girl was strong enough to push me through a glass door?” Realizing the need for honesty, he sent her a photo of the bathroom, inadvertently including the other man’s jock strap in the frame. “So I had to admit to her that I had been with a man.”
Luckily, Champa’s mother was unsurprised by the revelation, and was more concerned with her son’s wounds than this sexual orientation. Champa also shared that he felt grateful that his entire family, his father included, were accepting of his coming out. “I’m really lucky in that way,” he said.
TikTok
After deciding to leave NYU in his sophomore year of college, Champa’s career took a significant turn when he was signed by Paradigm Talent Agency in Los Angeles. “Then I was auditioning for larger roles, so I didn’t feel the need to go back to school,” Champa explained.
Champa, noticing the growing trend of social media, decided to try his hand at Instagram. His rise on the platform was rapid, which he largely attributes to his openly queer posts, detailing honest accounts of his real life, travels, and journey with love.
The transition to TikTok, where Champa is best known, came with support from the platform itself. “TikTok contacted me with support and got me on the platform,” Champa said.
“In a way, I felt like a gay mascot on TikTok,” said Champa.
“The person I spoke to there was gay, and many of my contacts at TikTok have been gay,” Champa noted, stating that, in spite of recent accusations, he did not believe the platform to be inherently homophobic. Despite this, he acknowledged that the algorithm could sometimes be perceived as leaning towards homophobic or racist tendencies, as it aims to avoid political content.
While Champa is grateful for his success on the platform, the constant demand of social media began to take its toll. Champa shared his desire to shift focus back to acting, reducing his social media engagement. “I do find myself moving away from posting so much and moving slightly away from social media because I want to focus more on acting roles. It was an everyday thing that consumed me, and I don’t think I want to go back to that. I’m trying to find a way to navigate social media part of my life without making my bread and butter day to day part of my life.”
“For the longest time, my motivation on social media was just to grow, but I feel like I have plateaued now at 13 million followers. Now it’s time for me to figure out what to do and where to grow next.”
The TikTok Ban
On May 7, 2024, TikTok filed a lawsuit against the U.S. government. The Chinese-owned company argued that the Senate’s recent ultimatum, which demanded that TikTok’s parent company divest from the social media platform under the threat of a ban, was unconstitutional.
The law, known as the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act, specifically names TikTok and its parent company, ByteDance Ltd. It also extends to other apps and websites with over a million monthly users that have significant ownership from China, Russia, Iran, or North Korea. The president has the authority to determine if these applications pose a national security threat, in which case they must be sold or face a ban in the U.S.
TikTok’s lawsuit claims that the law violates the First Amendment by not providing evidence of the national security threat it allegedly poses and for failing to seek a less restrictive remedy. Legal experts argue that this law implicates First Amendment interests in significant ways beyond this specific case.
Supporters of the law claim it is not a ban but a divestiture, describing it as a purely economic regulation. They argue that after the sale, users can continue using TikTok without concern for its ownership. However, critics view the law as an attempt to control speech by mandating a change in ownership, particularly to prevent potential Chinese Communist Party propaganda.
The government has not disclosed the national security concerns cited in the TikTok law. While such concerns might justify intervention, public skepticism remains.
Unless the courts invalidate the law or Congress repeals it, TikTok may not be able to operate effectively in the U.S. by January 19, 2025. App stores might be unable to update the software, and Oracle Corp. might not continue hosting TikTok’s U.S. user data. This potential scenario underscores the profound implications of the ongoing legal battle between TikTok and the U.S. government.
Feelings on the TikTok Ban
Champa shared his thoughts on the profound impact of TikTok on modern society, highlighting both the positive and negative aspects of the platform that has propelled him to fame.
“TikTok democratized the world,” Champa said. “It gave power back to artists and creators. You don’t need to rely on people with more power anymore to have a voice and to build a brand and to have a career.” According to Champa, TikTok has leveled the playing field, offering opportunities to individuals who might otherwise never have had the chance to shine.
“I watch this one baker in Australia, who has built a huge empire just through TikTok, which I think is incredible,” Champa said, highlighting how the platform can connect individuals from all corners of the globe. “Now I know about her bakery in Australia, which I would have never known.”
Champa expressed concern over the potential banning of TikTok, stating that it “would make our world smaller,” by stripping away a platform that fosters global connections and success stories across various industries.
“There is a real world out here. You don’t need to feel like you are missing out on anything if you don’t scroll all day. You really are not missing anything.”
(Photo: Simha Haddad/Los Angeles Blade)
However, Champa also acknowledged the downsides of such pervasive connectivity. “This is still a double-edged sword. I do think sometimes it’s too much information all at once.”
Champa described how the platform can inundate users with content, particularly when significant events occur, which he believes yields both positive and negative outcomes. “If something horrible or amazing happens in the world—anywhere from an eclipse to a war to tornadoes in the Midwest—I go to TikTok to get perspective and get multiple perspectives on a situation. That’s amazing, and that’s a privilege to be so connected in that way.” Yet, he warned of the dangers of information overload. “Sometimes too much information can be detrimental. For example, I watched one video on how Joe Biden is really an alien, TikTok immediately thinks all I want to see is how Joe Biden is an alien, and now I’m flooded with nothing but this information. That’s not healthy.”
Champa emphasized the need for the younger generation to balance their time on TikTok with real-world experiences. “There is a real world out here. You don’t need to feel like you are missing out on anything if you don’t scroll all day. You really are not missing anything.”
He also touched on the issue of free speech and expression. “Then there’s, of course, the issue of the First Amendment and freedom of speech because we all do have the right to express our opinions,” Champa said. “It’s a difficult topic and I’m not sure what the solution is.”
Champa’s reflections underscore the complex relationship between social media and society. While platforms like TikTok offer unprecedented opportunities for connection and success, they also present challenges that users must navigate carefully. As Champa continues his journey, his insights offer a valuable perspective on the evolving digital landscape.
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