“El Secreto Del Río,” or “The Secret of the River,” has made history as Trinidad González became the first transgender actress to star in a series by Netflix. 

The eight-episode series handles trans and gender nonconforming representation in the most beautiful and impactful way I’ve seen to date on any show or film–especially in a Spanish series, considering the gender identity and sexuality taboos that exist in Mexican culture. 

In a time in history where trans, gender nonconforming and intersex people are under attack and continue to face oppression when they demand basic human rights, this show beautifully and tactfully represents the true trials and tribulations that trans and gender nonconforming people experience throughout their lives–especially as children. 

Throughout the first four episodes, we get to know Manuel (Frida Sofía Cruz) and Erik (Mauro Guzmán). The two children–whose ages are not disclosed in the series–become friends, and after they experience a traumatic event that shifts their lives forever, they become even closer. 

The person who is involved in the traumatic event, is a cisgender, straight, man who proves to be the real villain of the show. He’s not only proudly an alcoholic, but he also tries to take advantage of one of the children. The way this unfolds, shows a side of Latin American culture that is hardly talked about. Many young children experience sexual assault at the hands of family members and close relatives and this issue is especially prevalent in Latin American and the Caribbean. According to a report by the National Library of Medicine, ‘… an estimated 58 percent of children 0 – 17 years of age in Latin America and the Caribbean (more than 99 million) experience physical, sexual, or emotional abuse each year.’

When the series begins, Manuel, or Young Sicarú, is new to town and immediately faces rejection because of how feminine he presents. Seeing his femininity, his grandma encourages Manuel to learn about the muxes (pronounced MOO-shay‘s), who are feminine people that exist outside of the male or female gender binary in Zapotec culture and who are deeply respected by many–but not all. 

They are often the subject of scrutiny as a third gender, and this series clearly shows that the misogyny that exists in this culture is deeply embedded in the Western European concepts of gender binary and gender roles that are upheld at all costs even in Mexico. This involves a deeper discussion of colonization and imperialism that has forced these systems and ideologies on the indigenous communities that, prior to colonization, accepted third and even fourth genders.

Within a Christian and Western ideological framework, muxe’s are part of the LGBTQ+ community, which is actually quite inaccurate because that gender classification is not based on sexuality. According to an article on the subject, ‘individuals who identify with a cultural third gender are, in fact, acting within their gender or sex norm.’ 

This topic is explored in the episode where decades later, Gonzalez’s character returns to her hometown as Sicarú, the transfeminine model who returns not only to mourn the death of a close friend, but also to tie up the loose ends of her late grandmother’s abandoned property where another subplot unfolds. 

Going back to the first 4 episodes of the series, where Manuel and Erik are still children, we see the development of fear that unfolds for the two, as they attempt to navigate life after the traumatic experience they shared. 

Because of the nature of the events that unfolded, we learn why the 2 children feel as though they cannot trust an adult and be honest about what they witnessed. The children fear the justice system working against them, criminalizing them, rather than seeing them as the victims of the traumatic event. This intense fear is very real for Erik and it causes him to become withdrawn and somewhat depressed. This is a good learning point for parents and any adult in the lives of young children. Adults need to be a safe space for children, because if not, children are left alone to deal with the consequences and repercussions of situations that were most likely out of their control. They need to confide in adults and trust that we will keep them safe at all costs. 

The adult in Young Sicarú’s life who becomes this sort of fairy godparent, is Solange (La Bruja De Texcoco). She is a muxe elder and well-respected member in the Zapotec community. Outside of the series, she is also a musician and an activist for human rights. Young Sicarú takes guidance from Solange and the other muxe’s, who keep Young Sicarú safe from the people in town who cannot come to terms with the femininity that she later embraces. 

Jacinto (Jorge A. Jimenez), Erik’s father becomes the one of the series’ villains as he punishes his son for being friends with Young Sicarú, who the town perceives as a muxe, even before she is able to accept that identity. This show does a spectacular job at showing the various faces of machismo that is deeply embedded in Mexican culture and also the difference between muxe’s and transgender people. 

In the following 4 episodes of the series, decades pass and as mentioned before, Sicarú returns to the small town as a transfeminine woman who makes it clear to her muxe community that she does not identify as muxe. She identifies as a trans woman and has a conversation with her muxe community about the distinction between the two identities. 

She comes in hot. Both in looks and in character. Her character development is incredibly thought-out as we see her go from being a shy, scared child–to a confident woman who is so free in her identity, that she decides to use her freedom to help free others.

This is important to see unfold on-screen because this type of representation is hardly ever seen, much less on the level of discussion that actually has substance and depth. 

Trans people are hardly ever portrayed in a positive way that shows how they develop strength and courage as a survival mechanism and use that to enact positive change or leave behind a legacy of progress. 

Meanwhile, the case that had been closed for decades regarding the traumatic event that unfolded for Young Sicarú and Erik, is reopened by their childhood bully–who unironically becomes a crooked police officer as an adult. 

He reopens the case and comes to find out that Sicarú and Erik were involved in the death, making it his mission to harass Sicarú. 

Another villain. Another cisgender, straight, man with anger issues and deeply rooted misogyny. 

The fourth and final villain of the series, is the cisgender, straight, man who is keeping a young boy captive in the abandoned home of Sicarú’s late grandmother.  It turns out that he is involved in a sinister business with the town’s police force.

Here, we see the very intentional representation of what real groomers look like and they’re not trans.

Sicarú sees herself in the young child and feels as though it is her sacred duty to save him from the abusive and neglectful situation he is in. 

Another aspect of the series that was deeply moving and impactful, was the way that muxe’s deaths are handled in Zapotec culture. Because of Western European religious frameworks enforced on the indigenous communities, they believe that Muxe’s must go into the afterlife as either male or female and not a third gender. 

This brings up a very deep theme of afterlife and spirituality in relation to gender identity. This is a struggle for trans, gender nonconforming and intersex people as they exist in an identity their friends, family, society, culture or religion might not understand or accept. 

Finally, the more-than-platonic relationship that develops between Sicarú and Erik when they are older, is a great conversation point that was also handled with care. 

Erik is genuinely confused about his feelings toward Sicarú and the years of misogyny that were forced on him as he grew up, continue to shape his view of gender identity. In some scenes, we see Erik reflecting on what his father would tell him as a child.  Alberto Barrera, creator of the series, gives us a unique perspective into Erik’s internal battle by interchanging young Erik and adult Erik in the scenes to help visualize his internal battle. In this scene, we hear Jacinto reinforcing his machismo in the form of homophobia and transphobia toward young Erik. 

When they were both younger, they had a third friend in their friend group, Paulina (Yoshira Escarrega), who later becomes Erik’s fiance. She welcomes Sicarú back to town with open arms, only to feel betrayed by her when she finds her and Erik sharing a somewhat intimate moment. 

In that moment, Erik confesses his confusion toward accepting Sicarú’s transition and she doesn’t know what to do to make him understand that she is still the friend he’s always cared for. The two navigate a difficult situation in a way that provides the audience with a realistic view of the journey toward acceptance. 

There won’t be any spoilers here, but the ending suggests that there is more to come from this series, as a major problem comes to light that brings turmoil to the entire town.

Overall, this series touches on very serious subjects in a way that can begin to build bridges in the discussions about transfemicide, human rights, misogyny, violence toward children and what the journey toward healing our inner child looks like.

‘A Little Queer Natural History’
By Josh L. Davis
c.2024, University of Chicago Press
$16/128 pages

When you were a small child, someone taught you about the birds and the bees.

It might’ve been a parent or other adult who explained where babies come from, or another kid who filled your head with scary, exciting things that you believed until you learned better. However you learned the facts of life, it changed you forever and in the new book, “A Little Queer Natural History” by Josh L. Davis, there’s more to the wild story.

You are not alone. Just look around.

All kinds of creatures share the planet with us but, in the same way that you shouldn’t judge a person at first glance, you can’t jump to conclusions about those creatures. That’s especially true with sexual behavior. While we can’t rightly attribute human feelings or intentions to them – animals likely don’t understand gay from straight – we may assume “that most species of animal probably exhibit some form of queer behaviour.”

Take birds, for instance: early 20th century explorers noted the Adelie penguin for its male-male partnering activity. Female Western gulls often raise their chicks with female partners. Female pheasants may “present as males” if their estrogen is depleted.

As for mammals, Western lowland gorillas and bonobos both engage in sexual activity with either sex. Domestic sheep, hyenas, and giraffes also “could be considered to have a sexuality that we would define as homosexual or bisexual.”

And “When it comes to sex in plants,” says Davis, “all bets are off.”

Komodo dragons can reproduce through parthenogenesis, or without fertilization. Parrot fish are able to change sex if they need to. Morpho butterflies are gynandromorphs, having “both male and female tissue within… a single individual.” Castrated male cane toads will develop egg cells due to a “Bidder’s organ.” Even dinosaurs are included in this book.

“Despite sex often being viewed as a fundamental for life on Earth,” says Davis, “there is still a lot we don’t know about it and scientists are constantly learning more.”

When you first get “A Little Queer Natural History” in your hands, you’ll notice how whisper-thin it feels. Don’t let that fool you; the pages may be light, but what you’ll find is not.

Author Josh L. Davis stuffs each entry tight with real scientific information, and he uses actual scientific terms to do it. There’s zero dumbing-down in that, but Davis is quick to explain terms and ideas, which helps readers to completely understand what’s here. For sure, you’ll feel like a smarty-pants as you make your way through this book.

Readers, however, may scratch their heads and wonder why some of the entries are included – it may be a stretch to include fossilized creatures or male animals that care for their offspring, for instance. Chances are, though, that you’ll be so captured by the knowledge contained in each short chapter that you won’t mind.

“A Little Queer Natural History” is a smart book, perfect for quick reads at random at this busy time of year. If that’s what you need now, enjoying it’s a fact of life.

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

Ricky Martin on Dec. 2 will headline the AIDS Healthcare Foundation’s annual World AIDS Day Concert. 

The event will take place at the Watsco Center at the University of Miami in Coral Gables, Fla.

Every year, the AHF, the world’s largest HIV/AIDS healthcare organization, hosts its World AIDS Day Concert to honor those lost to HIV/AIDS, and bring attention to the global fight against HIV/AIDS. The organization will host the concert one day after World AIDS Day, which takes place on Dec. 1. 

Ricky Martin — known globally as the “King of Latin Pop” — has long used his stardom to shed light on issues, having used his platform to advocate for and bring awareness to HIV/AIDS, human trafficking, and LGBTQ rights. The Puerto Rico native came out as gay in 2010. 

“Ricky has shown a deep commitment to breaking stigma, educating youth, and empowering communities to take action,” the AHF said on a post on Instagram.

The event will also feature a performance by DJ Spinderella, a DJ and rapper, and the AHF Lifetime Achievement award will be presented to Dr. Julio Frenk, the University of Miami’s outgoing president and chancellor-designate for UCLA. 

In the past, performers from Janet Jackson to Diana Ross to Mariah Carey have taken the stage at World AIDS Day events. Last year, the AHF presented its Lifetime Achievement Award to actor and activist Blair Underwood.

The concert is taking place in Miami, which has been at the center of the HIV epidemic. 

A 2019 study found Miami had the highest rate of new HIV diagnoses in the U.S. Southern states in general continue to be disproportionately impacted by an increase in new diagnoses. 

“This concert isn’t just a celebration of lives saved and advances in treatment, it’s a call to action,” AHF said in a statement. “Together, we can raise awareness and support those affected by HIV/AIDS in Miami and beyond.”

In times of trouble, movies can offer us a chance – temporarily, at least – to escape our worries. Sometimes, though, escape is not the answer. When the political climate turns stormy, they can also be a lifeline, connecting us with our history and helping us to clarify where we’ve been, where we need to go, and how we might manage to get there. With that in mind, here’s a list of great movies about LGBTQ activism, each with particular relevance to the cultural challenges we face as America braces itself for another round of Trumpism – because besides educating us about our past, they have the power to inspire us as we prepare to fight for our future.

Pride (2014) 

Perhaps ironically, the first title (and only non-documentary) on our list is not an American tale, but a true story from the UK, a fictionalized chronicle of Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) – a group of LGBTQ activists who allied with striking coal miners in Thatcher-era Britain. Directed by Matthew Warchus and written by Stephen Beresford, it balances humor and gravitas as it follows a young, still-closeted student (George MacKay) and his involvement with a group of queer activists who decide to raise money to support Welsh miners impacted by the British Mining Strike of 1984. Despite initial hostility from the miners, a coalition is forged that lends strength to both causes, ultimately leading to the incorporation of gay and lesbian rights into the official Labour Party platform. An infectiously thrilling portrayal of the transformative power of solidarity, it’s a film that exemplifies the importance of intersectionality and the need for diverse marginalized communities to unite and take collective action against oppression. The message? We are stronger together than we are apart. Also starring Bill Nighy, Imelda Staunton, Dominic West, and Andrew Scott, it’s as entertaining as it is inspiring, a “feel-good” movie that also fires us up to stand firm against the forces of bigotry and repression.

The Times of Harvey Milk (1984)

No, we’re not dissing Gus Van Sant’s excellent 2008 biopic “Milk,” featuring Sean Penn’s star turn in the title role and Dustin Lance Black’s eloquent screenplay (both of which snagged Oscars), but for our purposes here, this documentary from director Rob Epstein – which won an Oscar itself – provides a less romanticized account of Milk’s life and work. The first openly gay elected official in California, he successfully fought against the discriminatory “Briggs Initiative” (famously championed by beauty-queen- turned-OJ-spokesmodel Anita Bryant), which sought to ban gay teachers in public schools, something that feels particularly relevant during a time when conservative American politicians are aggressively working to remove LGBTQ content from schools and erode queer representation in politics. Though his 1978 assassination alongside San Francisco Mayor George Moscone (by fellow City Supervisor and political rival Dan White) is probably a more familiar piece of history in the public imagination today, it’s the groundbreaking LGBTQ advocacy he spearheaded that forms the centerpiece of his enduring legacy, something that the tragedy of his martyrdom should not be allowed to overshadow. This moving, intimate documentary – which weaves archival footage and interviews into a compelling narrative about the intersections of politics and identity, reminds us of the stakes when marginalized voices go unrepresented by our legislators, and features narration from queer icon Harvey Fierstein – provides a more detailed and authentic look at the great work he accomplished during his short tenure than Van Sant’s fictionalized historical drama.

How to Survive a Plague (2012)

If any film on our list should be considered a “must-see,” it’s this widely acclaimed documentary from filmmaker David France, which chronicles the activism of ACT UP and TAG during the height of the AIDS epidemic. Through archival footage and testimonials, it follows the real-life activists who fought for medical treatments and government accountability in a time when their community was suffering a devastating loss, highlighting key figures like Peter Staley and Larry Kramer and providing a powerful portrait of a relentless advocacy effort that turned despair into action. With its themes of grassroots activism and equitable public health care, France’s auspicious directorial debut resonates deeply in today’s world, as queer communities face challenges in access to gender-affirming care and reproductive rights; seeing the tactics used by organizations like ACT UP to hold institutions accountable, modern activists can gain valuable insights about how to conduct strategic resistance against legislative attacks and discriminatory policies in public health care.

Call Me Kuchu (2012)

Not as well-known but equally resonant as the other films on our list, this doc from directors Katherine Fairfax Wright and Malika Zouhali-Worrall follows LGBTQ activists in Uganda, a country where homosexuality is criminalized, centering around the story of David Kato – the self-proclaimed “first gay man in Uganda.”After returning home from South Africa, where he “discovered gay life” for the first time, he started a non-profit LGBTQ organization  (Sexual Minorities Uganda) to “spread the word about homosexuality” and track instances of homophobia in his country; he went on to became a fearless advocate for queer rights, facing immense personal and legal persecution before ultimately losing his life to anti-gay violence. The film also tracks efforts by the Ugandan government to pass the Anti-Homosexuality Act, which was partially orchestrated through the influence of U.S.-based Christian conservatives at a workshop funded by the American fast-food chain Chick-fil-A, and was condemned internationally as the “Kill the Gays Bill,” due to its inclusion of a death penalty clause. Though its focus is on an African nation, the film has clear relevance to the global struggle for queer acceptance, warning against the advancement of anti-LGBTQ ideologies by hate groups “protecting traditional values” under the guise of religion, and reminding us of how the fight for queer rights is interconnected worldwide.

Paris Is Burning (1990)

Jennie Livingston’s documentary delving into New York City’s drag ball culture of the 1980s is now iconic, a celebrated queer classic that immortalizes a deeply influential social scene and illuminates the lives of Black and Latino queer individuals as they try to navigate systemic racism, homophobia, and poverty, with an emphasis on their artistry, their resilience, and the “chosen families” they gather around themselves. Featuring a host of ballroom legends (Pepper LaBeija, Dorian Corey, Venus Xtravaganza, and more), it reveals stories of both triumph and tragedy while amplifying the experience of queer joy; it would later provide inspiration for Ryan Murphy’s groundbreaking series “Pose” – but more importantly, this essential LGBTQ classic highlights the inequities that persist in society today, when drag culture faces legislative attacks and trans women of color continue to be disproportionately targeted by violence,

Each of these films offers essential insights on queer resistance, illuminating the ongoing struggles and triumphs of LGBTQ communities. As we face a reinvigorated attack on queer rights under a hostile administration, they offer us lessons on solidarity, activism, and resilience that suddenly seem more crucial than ever.

Watch and learn, children, because you might now be our only hope.

The Illinois Supreme Court on Thursday overturned Jussie Smollett’s conviction on charges that he staged and lied to the police about being the victim of a homophobic and racist hate crime in 2019. 

The court ruled the actor should not have been prosecuted again after he had already reached a deal with prosecutors to resolve the case. 

However, the ruling did not address whether Smollett was innocent of staging the hate crime, as he has continued to claim, overturning the conviction on the grounds that the second prosecution was a due process violation. 

“We are aware that this case has generated significant public interest and that many people were dissatisfied with the resolution of the original case and believed it to be unjust,” Justice Elizabeth Rochford wrote in the court’s 5-0 opinion, referring to the initial deal Smollett had reached. “Nevertheless, what would be more unjust than the resolution of any one criminal case would be a holding from this court that the state was not bound to honor agreements upon which people have detrimentally relied.”

In 2019, the “Empire” star claimed he had been physically attacked by two men in a homophobic and racist hate crime. He told Chicago police that they had put a noose around his neck, yelled slurs, and told him that he was in “MAGA country” during the attack. 

He initially received an outpouring of support, particularly from the LGBTQ+ and Black communities. But police soon charged him with filing a false report, alleging he had staged the attack as part of a hoax. 

Prosecutors controversially dismissed the initial charges in exchange for community service and the forfeiture of his $10,000 bond. After public outcry, a special prosecutor recharged Smollett with the same offenses in 2020. 

The Illinois Supreme Court on Thursday found this second prosecution violated the deal initially reached by the state, as well as Smollett’s due process rights. 

In 2021, a Cook County jury found Smollett guilty on the charges the special prosecutor had brought against him, and he was sentenced to 150 days in jail and 30 months of probation, along with a $120,000 restitution payment to the city of Chicago for the overtime costs incurred by police investigating his initial hate crime claim.

He only served six days in jail before he was released upon appealing his case. An Illinois Appellate Court upheld his guilty verdict last year, after which he appealed to the Illinois Supreme Court. 

In a Washington Blade interview in September, Smollett addressed his conviction, denying that he had staged the attack.

“I know what happened and soon you all will too,” he told the Blade.

Asked to address the concern among some in the LGBTQ+ community that his case would discredit victims of hate crimes and make it more difficult to report future such crimes, he responded, “If someone reported a crime and it wasn’t the truth, that would actually make it more difficult [to report future crimes], but I didn’t. Any belief that they have about the person that I’ve been played out to be, sure, but that person is not me, never has been. So I stand with my community. I love my community and I protect and defend my community until I’m bloody in my fist.” 

When Jocelyn was stuck inside during most of 2020, they did what any high school senior would do: scrolled through TikTok. They found themself on the hashtag #tiktokmademegay a lot. (To protect privacy, the Blade is opting to only use Jocelyn’s first name).

“At the time, I didn’t give it a lot of thought,” they say, acknowledging that most users viewed it as “more of a joke.” 

Now a senior in college, where Jocelyn will graduate with a degree in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies and Computer Science this spring, they have a more nuanced perspective. Nuanced enough to embark on a year-long independent thesis on the topic.

They still get that the hashtag is a joke, but probe into what lies behind it, noting a tension between the “the born-this-way narrative of sexuality essentialism” to the idea that “sexuality is socially constructed.” They also question the power this narrative gives to TikTok in its ability to surveil user data and identity. 

What got Jocelyn so interested in it in the first place was the fact it was a conservative talking point being replicated by the queer community. Because, what amounts to a joke or an intellectual query for some, is a point of anxiety and fear-mongering for others.

The conservative think tank known for writing Project 2025, the Heritage Foundation wrote “How Big Tech Turns Kids Trans” arguing that “Digital spaces are ever more designed to promote sexual and transgender content.” This argument has incredible staying power and has been echoed by numerous far-right pundits like Oli London and Charlie Kirk.

It has also been referenced by lawmakers. Tennessee Sen. Marsha Blackburn (R) stated the Kids Online Safety Act (KOSA), bi-partisan legislation she co-sponsored restricting youth access to social media, was meant to “protect minor children from the transgender [sic] in our culture.”

TikTok has faced numerous challenges over the years. From Montana’s currently unsuccessful ban on use in its state to the “divest-or-ban bill” signed by President Joe Biden in April or the lawsuit brought by more than a dozen attorneys general in October—it is clear there is a broad coalition of U.S. lawmakers concerned about the app. 

These acts—which cite both national security and youth mental health—come in conjunction with a larger movement to limit youth access to social media—locally, nationally, and internationally.

Data security experts and some legislators state that the national security risk of the app is only hypothetical due to the fact TikTok houses U.S. user data in the states. There are pressing concerns about the safety of user data, explains Shae Gardner, the policy director at LGBT Tech. Focusing those concerns entirely on one platform due to a hypothetical risk rather than the widespread, real risks across multiple platforms is disingenuous.

“Proponents [of this ban] have been saying that this is urgent and necessary to protect the data of Americans,” says Gardner, “But we have been asking for years for nationwide data privacy protections, and watching the efforts die over and over again on the legislative vine.”

In fact, Gardner argues, “Regulating one application is both legally dubious and will ultimately be ineffective in doing so.” Gardner explains that though LGBT Tech is not involved in any legislation against the ban, which other tech policy groups are, they hold the shared belief that it is unconstitutional to target a single platform rather than the wider ecosystem.

The risk to youth mental health, which has also been cited as a major concern, is more complicated. Best sellers like the highly critiqued “The Anxious Generation” argue that all youth mental illness is linked to social media. The data doesn’t back this up, argue numerous experts.

Amid the panic, LGBTQ advocates have passionately argued that queer youth’s access to technology is uniquely beneficial due to a lack of education and community in the physical world. The Trevor Project identified TikTok as the platform where LGBTQ youth felt most “safe and understood.” 

Data largely backs this up. A systematic review from 2022 found that “social media may support the mental health and well-being of LGBTQ youths through peer connection, identity management, and social support.” The review noted that more research is needed, noting that their results may be limited by weak evidence due to factors like small sample sizes. 

Celia B. Fisher, the Marie Ward Doty University Chair in Ethics at Fordham University, was able to gather a larger sample by conducting a national survey of more than 500 on Instagram. With that reach, explains Fisher, “you’re more likely to get a fuller view of what’s going on nationally.”

“There’s an anonymity with national surveys,” adds Fisher, “[It] brings different people to answer questions that they may not want to talk about to somebody in person.”

In March 2024, she published the peer-reviewed article “Social media: A double-edged sword for LGBTQ+ youth” in the Journal “Computers in Human Behavior.” Many results agreed with the larger narrative of online spaces as refuges and community-building spaces. “It’s a wonderful place when they can find the appropriate sites,” says Fisher.

Jocelyn, the student researcher, echoes this. “Many of the videos I have come across discuss how the comfortability of the queer spaces on TikTok was part of the reason they felt comfortable enough to come out and explore their sexuality.”

When youth drift into non-welcoming territory, the story is different.

Fisher’s research finds that more than 80% of youth are exposed to discrimination either directly or vicariously (watching others being discriminated against) in the last month. Fisher wrote, “between 40% and 63% of all youth met the criteria for moderate levels of depression, anxiety, and substance use disorder (SUD).” Youth who described high exposure to discrimination had higher levels of depression, anxiety, and SUD.

The hate does not simply come from the run-of-the-mill bully finding a classmate online. “Algorithms expose them to these things,” says Fisher.

“If an algorithm sees that you’re interested in RuPaul… Then it begins its work on figuring out other sites that may be attached to similar interests. But as it moves on, it begins to add the heterosexist and transphobic types of posts.”

The fact that the algorithms that govern our tech can be sexist, racist, and homophobic is old news and highly studied, but it continues to have compounding impacts. Media Matters for America found in 2021 that TikTok’s algorithm specifically promotes homophobia and anti-trans violence.

Jocelyn also worries about handing over the power of identification and community to an algorithm. In addition to the #tiktokmademegay, other users promote the idea that “TikTok knows things about themself before they know it.” This rhetoric is “scary” says Jocelyn, because “handing over the keys of self-identification to an algorithm that we have no idea how it works is not something that feels right.”

Gardner echoes the complex views on the state of social media. Outside of her day job as a policy maven, Gardner is a TikToker under the handle @shaeitaintsoo, where she shares educational content about LGBTQ issues. 

“These spaces also allow for a lot of queer joy and a lot of authenticity in a way that makes me proud to be a part of this community,” she says. At the same time, backlash is part of the job. The success of TikTok’s moderation has ebbed and flowed during her four years as a public figure on the app.  

Gardner emphasizes that “hatred and harassment do not live in algorithms.” The discrimination faced online is replicated bigotry from offline spaces. Social media can amplify and distribute the bigotry in new ways. “It is the responsibility of the platforms to be making significant efforts to ensure that the replication is not then also multiplied and made ten times worse.”

Gardner sees the backlash as a “tale as old as time” that has been replicated without much evidence onto emerging technology. “I’m not saying that tale is not rooted in some element of truth. But this, this didn’t start with TikTok, I would push back against language that seems to think it will end with TikTok.” 

In the meantime, Gardner implores those worried to not lose sight of the most important concerns. 

“If your concern is that [kids and teens] are spending too much time in online spaces. What are you doing to create safe, physical ones for them?” Gardner asks. 

(This story is part of the Digital Equity Local Voices Fellowship Lab through News is Out. The lab initiative is made possible with support from Comcast NBCUniversal.)

As we approach Thanksgiving 2024, it seems safe to say that holiday dinners with the family back home are going to be even more stressful than usual.

Those conversations with cousins and in-laws around the table have always been a minefield to navigate for queer people from traditional families. This year, knowing that the uncle seated across from you voted for somebody who might take away your hard-won rights is sure to make that turkey pretty hard to swallow. With scenarios like that looming large in our minds, there’s a particular twinge of poignance to be felt in watching “Close to You,” a Canadian film from writer/director Dominic Savage in which Elliot Page plays a trans man returning to his small-town family home for his father’s birthday after being away for nearly five years.

Sam (Page) has been living in Toronto, renting a room from a friend-and-surrogate-mother (Sook-Yin Lee) while exploring and adjusting to big-city life as a trans man; now, he’s ready to return home for the holiday, but nervous about the reception he might receive. On the train ride home, he runs into Katherine (Hillary Baack), his “bestie” from school, and the warm – if somewhat awkward – acceptance he feels from her buoys him as he goes on to face his father (Peter Outerbridge), mother (Wendy Crewson), and the siblings and significant others who make up his immediate family circle. 

Things go reasonably well, at first, with a warm welcome from Mum, a newfound acceptance from Dad, and a tentative rekindling of connection with his sisters (Janet Porter, Alex Paxton-Beesley), but increasingly aggressive provocations from a transphobic extended family member (David Reale) become difficult to ignore. He finds an escape and some solace with Katherine, who overcomes an initial reticence to reconnect further after their chance reunion reawakens the emotional bond they once shared; but the old feelings and resentments stirred within his family dynamic threaten to derail any chance of true reconciliation at home, reminding him of why he left in the first place.

Moody, raw, and tinged with a melancholy that asserts itself even in its happier moments, Savage’s movie conveys a tone as chilly as the slushy Canadian November of its setting. It takes the audience in close – literally, in the sense that much of it is shot in close-up, tight on its players’ faces as if we were part of the conversation – to provide a tangible feeling of intimacy and connect us to the emotional perspective of everyone involved. Much of it has an improvisatory feel, with dialogue that sometimes feels tentative or choked with uncertainty, yet allows for the eruption of frequent outbursts and the resonance of eloquently expressed thoughts. And its authenticity is reinforced by a collection of superb performances, with Page (who co-authored the film’s story with Savage) giving a deeply felt star turn as Sam and a gifted ensemble of actors in support. All together, it creates an atmosphere that effectively evokes the feelings of helpless vulnerability that are familiar to so many of us, queer or straight alike, when we return to the scenes of a youth that we longed to escape.

For some viewers, in fact, the film’s constant feeling of low-frequency anxiety will likely be too much. For many, of course, it will hit close to home, and trigger traumatic memories; for those who can’t relate, it may all seem a bit too “doom and gloom,” and others might see its respectful treatment of a trans narrative as being agenda-driven or even dismiss it as “woke” – though truthfully, those who might do that are not likely to be watching it in the first place. 

Which is not to say that “Close to You” is a complete downer; there are plenty of uplifting moments, too, when connections shine through and we are reminded that, underneath all the confusion and misunderstandings that have strained Sam’s relations with his family, there is love – even if the characters themselves may not feel it in that moment. Nor does it put all the focus of his emotional wariness on his transness; on the contrary, much of the conflict is focused on feelings of isolation, of being judged for having a different focus to his life than the rest of his very traditional family, and other things which make him “different” that have nothing to do with his gender. It celebrates the value of “found” family in the glimpses it gives us of Sam’s other relationships, and even gives us a spark of unexpected romance. In many ways, it might even be seen as a “feel-good” movie, were it not for the sense of unanswered sadness that underpins it all.

That, perhaps, is what makes it resonate not just as a trans story (though it is certainly first and foremost that) but one about queer experience overall: the knowledge that, no matter what positive changes are made or how fully one embraces one’s truth and identity, there will always be people who will judge you for who you are. The problem isn’t within you – it’s within them, so it’s something you can’t fix, and there’s a sense of powerlessness that comes from that.

In the cultural climate that has been suddenly thrust upon us in America, that’s undoubtedly a realization that has been haunting many of our thoughts about who we can trust in a society that has repeatedly shown its willingness to cast us out. It’s for this reason that “Close to You” carries an additional impact for queer audiences that might have been intended at the time of its making; after all, that uncle across the Thanksgiving table may have treated you perfectly well your whole life, but when you know that his love for you was less than his concern over the price of groceries, it’s hard to trust him again – and we’ve just been given a sobering reminder that there is a chillingly large percentage of our friends and neighbors for whom the same can now be said.

“Close to You” premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2023, and was released in Canada and the UK earlier this year, along with limited screenings in the U.S. It’s now available for home viewing via multiple VOD platforms.

Content Warning: Mentions of hate, gender-based violence.

Trans Day of Remembrance is coming up this Nov. 20, preceded by the Trans Week of Awareness from Nov. 13 to 19.

This year has been full of grief for the transgender community across the country. In 2024 alone, the Human Rights Campaign has kept track of 27 transgender and gender-expansive people across the United States who died of violent causes, such as gun or intimate partner violence. According to the Los Angeles District Attorney’s Office Hate Crime Report on data from 2022, 44 anti-trans hate crimes were the highest number ever recorded in the county, surpassing 42 in 2019. The county crimes had a large rate of violence as well at 91 percent. TDOR seeks to honor the lives of people lost to this type of circumstance.

For those unfamiliar with the history, Trans Day of Remembrance started in 1998 with Gwendolyn Ann Smith. According to Vogue Magazine, the trans writer and activist heard of Black trans woman Rita Hester’s murder in Boston in an online forum, and found the case was greatly similar to that of another Black trans woman who had been killed in Boston in 1995, Chanel Pickett. Realizing a need for documentation, Smith created the Remembering Our Dead web project to track instances of violence against the trans community.

In 1999, trans community members in both San Francisco and Boston used the web project as source material to coordinate candlelight vigils, creating the November holiday.

“I am no stranger to the need to fight for our rights, and the right to simply exist is first and foremost,” Smith said. “With so many seeking to erase transgender people — sometimes in the most brutal ways possible — it is vitally important that those we lose are remembered, and that we continue to fight for justice.”

If you’re looking to pay your respects or be in community with others, here are a few events to attend. Allies welcome.

November 15, 6 p.m.: The Trans Advisory Board in West Hollywood is hosting a small reception and ceremony at the WeHo City Council Chambers. For more details, visit weho.org/lgbtq

November 20, 3 to 6 p.m.: Cal State L.A., is hosting a resource fair with music, vendors, and more to celebrate and commemorate the trans community. Find more information on their event page. 

November 20, 4 p.m.: L.A. Civil Rights Department, Trans Advisory Council and the office of Councilwoman Traci Park are hosting a gathering at City Hall. Guests are invited to join an evening of reflection and community. Register for free through this form.

November 20, 5 to 7 p.m.: The queer and trans connect team at Latino Equality Alliance is hosting a special event inviting community members to bring photos for their TDOR altar and enjoy light refreshments. Find more details and register for the event for free through their online form. 

San Jose State University’s women volleyball team has collected yet another W by forfeit — its seventh so far this season — as controversy swirls around one player on its roster. She’s one of the seniors, and she has been dragged in the media by her own co-captain, who outed her as transgender. 

The Washington Blade is not naming this student athlete since neither she nor the school have confirmed or even commented on her gender identity.

SJSU visited San Diego last weekend for a match before the Aztecs’ biggest home crowd of the season — including protesters waving “Save Women’s Sports” banners and booing one player on the Spartans team in particular: The woman who is reported to be trans. 

Security was tight, with metal detectors and extra guards and police officers present. Video posted to YouTube by a right-wing sports media site — which names the player — shows an angry fan arguing with security about his First Amendment rights. 

Video recorded during Nov. 9’s game shows a player for San Diego was injured following a spike by the player rumored to be trans, and had to be helped off the court. However, the video clearly shows that player was injured by landing poorly on one foot, not as a result of the spike. 

The Aztecs defeated the Spartans 3-1, but San Jose has still punched its ticket to the conference finals, thanks to its record number of forfeits. 

Wyoming was set to visit SJSU Thursday, but for the second time is joining other universities that have forfeited games against the Spartans, all without providing a reason. Boise State announced it will forfeit an upcoming match set for Nov. 21, its second forfeit against SJSU. 

In September, the Spartans’ co-captain, senior Brooke Slusser, outed her own teammate, the player at the center of this controversy, in joining a federal lawsuit against the NCAA spearheaded by anti-trans inclusion activist and former college athlete Riley Gaines.  

Slusser said in the lawsuit and in subsequent interviews that the player in question shouldn’t be on her team. The suit claims the NCAA’s policy on trans athletes violates Title IX by allowing “men” to compete in women’s sports and use women’s locker rooms where they display “full male genitalia.”  

The NCAA policy for trans athletes participating in women’s volleyball aligns with that of USA Volleyball, which requires trans female athletes to suppress their testosterone below 10 nmol/L for a period of one year before competition. That is also how the NCAA determines eligibility. SJSU has stated repeatedly that all its players are eligible. 

The lawsuit also asks the NCAA to revoke any titles or records won by trans female athletes in women’s competitions, which seems to be specifically aimed at stripping out trans NCAA champions Lia Thomas and CeCé Telfer of their titles in swimming and track and field, respectively. 

Prior to this season, the player rumored to be trans did not attract any attention other than being a successful starter, like Slusser. But now that she is in the media spotlight, Slusser has come forward to tell right wing media, including Megyn Kelly, why she feels another woman two inches taller than she is poses a danger. 

“I don’t feel safe,” Slusser said on “The Megyn Kelly Show” last month. “I’ve gone to my coaches and said I refuse to play against [her] … It’s not safe.”

In the video, both Kelly and Slusser refer to the player as “him” and a “man,” and name her. 

Now comes another twist: San Jose State University suspended associate head coach Melissa Batie-Smoose with pay, indefinitely, after she filed a Title IX complaint against SJSU. She claims the player Slusser identified as trans conspired with an opponent to help the team lose a match and injure Slusser. Batie-Smoose named the player in question in her complaint and on Sept. 23, joined the same lawsuit that Slusser is now a part of. 

“Safety is being taken away from women,” Batie-Smoose told Fox News. “Fair play is taken away from women. We need more and more people to do this and fight this fight because women’s sports, as we know it right now will be forever changed.”

Media reporting on the suspension, including Fox News, continue to name the athlete in question, with some also reporting what they say is the athlete’s birth name. 

San Jose State released a statement following the suspension of Batie-Smoose: “The associate head coach of the San Jose State University women’s volleyball team is not with the team at this time, and we will not provide further information on this matter,” the team said.

SJSU Coach Todd Kress told ESPN that reports saying that any member of the Spartans colluded with their opponent are “littered with lies.” 

The Spartans are currently among the top six finishers in the Mountain West Conference that will qualify to compete in the conference tournament scheduled for Nov. 27-30. 

‘American Teenager’
By Nico Lang
c.2024, Abrams Press
$30/288 pages

In great-grandma’s day, they hooked.

They were high-topped and dainty, too, to show off a tiny, cheeky-but-demure ankle beneath long skirts. These days, though, they Velcro, tie, strap, or you just slip your toes into whatever you put on your feet. You gotta wear your shoes but, as in the new book “American Teenager” by Nico Lang, you wish someone would walk a mile in them first.

Seven-hundred-plus.

That’s how many anti-gay, anti-trans bills were presented to state legislatures around the country last year, many aimed at minors. As if being a teenager isn’t hard enough. With this in mind, Lang shadowed seven trans kids, to find out how they and their families cope with our current political landscape.

Fifteen-year-old South Dakotan Wyatt is in 10th grade. He knows that the lawmakers in his state “will just keep turning up the boil” on trans bills and it makes him physically sick. When Lang asked Wyatt to describe himself, Wyatt couldn’t do it, as if, says Lang, he was “still in transit, not yet arrived.”

Near Birmingham, Rhydian is a good student at the Magic City Acceptance Academy, the only school in the South that specifically welcomes LGBTQ students, and he enjoys the deep love and support of his parents and grandmother. But he’s frustrated: Rhydian’s been waiting for months for top surgery, which has been put on hold for reasons that are political.

Mykah identifies as gender-fluid, Black, and bi-racial and they desperately dream of a future performing career. In Houston, Ruby’s beloved church held a re-naming ceremony for her when she turned 18. Seventeen-year-old trans boy Clint is Muslim, and has managed to avoid scrutiny from his Chicago mosque.

Jack, along with her mother and nonbinary sibling, Augie, were homeless before their mother finally managed to find housing; in the meantime, Jack lost her health care. And in Los Angeles, Kylie has health care, support, friends, and an activist mother.

She has advantages that most trans kids can only wish for – and she knows it.

Acne. Peer pressure. Social media. Being a teen has always been difficult, even without anti-LGBTQ legislation. In this fine work of journalism, author Nico Lang shows how a handful of kids in one group are coping with governmental policies and life in general.

Hint: you can expect the unexpected.

“American Teenager” shows the highs and lows of being a teen with the added stress of politics included – and here, the individuality inside the ordinary is striking and wonderful. Lang is careful to show how these are just typical kids – good-hearted, smart, funny, sarcastic – and it rings throughout each profile how much the discrimination they endure affects their lives and relationships. That’s a clarion call, absolutely, but readers who can see between the lines will also enjoy this book’s humor, it’s compassion, and the sheer joy of meeting decent, thoughtful teens.

Parents will like this book for its candor, and that goes doubly for adults who love a trans kid. Start “American Teenager” and before long, you’ll be hooked.

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