It is sorrow-heavy to count our losses and remember those who were ripped from us—in our collective memory—but we must not let their names go unspoken, because the defeat of memory through oppression and erasure will not encumber us. We shout their names, because they are beautiful, Black and their very existence: magical.

muhlaysia booker

tamika michelle washington

claire legato

written by: abdul-aliy muhammad

on june 5, 1981, the center for disease control (cdc) published an article in its morbidity and mortality weekly report (mmwr): pneumocystis pneumonia—los angeles. the article described cases of pneumocystis carinii pneumonia(pcp), a rare lung infection, in five young, white, previously healthy gay men in los angeles. the report stated that all of the men had other unusual infections in to pcp, indicating that their immune systems were not working. by the time the report was published, two of the five men had died and the other died soon after. this was the very first official reporting of what later became the aids epidemic.

in 1981, there were 234 known deaths due to aids, which before 1982 was actually called gay related immune deficiency (grid) by both health officials and mainstream media. this framing and the fear mongering messaging that immediately followed, along with the us government’s willful inaction, helped to create an epidemic that continues to impact our communities globally. 

someone once said that the shortest distance between life and death was aids. by 1993, just five years after then president reagan publically acknowledged the epidemic, aids was the leading cause of death for american ages 25-44.

38 years since the cdc report, we have witnessed profound breakthroughs in hiv treatment, prevention and even how it covered in some media outlets. however, black and latinx gay men, trans men and trans women continue to be disproportionately impacted and criminalized even as the hiv non-profit industry has gone by leaps and bounds.

hiv is still a social justice issue.

hiv is still a racial justice issue.

hiv is still a health issue.

no one is truly living without hiv in a world where it continues to impact those on the margins.

so on this day, we remember those who marched in past pride parades with zero t-cells. we remember those who yelled, “act up! fight back, fight aids!” we carry their legacies as we celebrate stonewall 50. we still rage and mourn because many of them would still be here had it not been for aids.

photo circa 1989 • philadelphia puerto rican day parade • courtesy of David acosta

blessed are those who mother the children the world left alone to mind themselves. blessed are the queens who build a queendom for these children to survive and thrive. pepper labeija was both mother and queen and on this #mothersday weekend, we speak her name.

born on november 5, 1948 in the bronx, new york, pepper became the mother of the house of labeija (pronounced la-BAY-zha) in the 1982 after the founding mother, crystal labeija died.

under pepper’s leadership, the house continued to pave the way both drag and ballroom culture. the family structure that has long been the foundation of black and brown ballroom houses was created by the house of labeija and pepper played an integral part of this.

pepper and the house of labeija rose to mainstream prominence when they were featured in the 1990 documentary film, “paris is burning.”

pepper spent most of her life providing refuge for black and brown trans and queer young people during and after the height of the aids and crack epidemic. like many of the house mothers of her time, pepper helped to cultivate a space where black queer and trans people could live out their fantasies and those fantasies included a universe without homophobia, transphobia and racism.

on may 14, 2003, mother pepper labeija became an elder when she died of a heart attack at the age of 54.

in a new york times tribute printed on may 26, 2003, douglas martin wrote, “pepper was the last of the four great queens of modern harlem balls; angie xtravaganza, dorian corey and avis pendavis all died in recent years. these four exuded a sort of wild expressionism that might make las vegas girls seem tame.”

happy mother’s day, pepper! thank you for all of the new earths you helped to create when ours was burning down.

on this #MemorialDay, i am reminded of the 1988 “why we fight” speech given by queer rights and AIDS activist vito russo (july 11, 1946 – november 7, 1990) at ACT UP rallies.

may these selections serve as a reminder to those of us who were drafted into this war - we are not and we were never alone in our rage.

“Living with AIDS is like living through a war which is happening only for those people who happen to be in the trenches. Every time a shell explodes, you look around and you discover that you’ve lost more of your friends, but nobody else notices. It isn’t happening to them. They’re walking the streets as though we weren’t living through some sort of nightmare. And only you can hear the screams of the people who are dying and their cries for help. No one else seems to be noticing.

And it’s worse than a war, because during a war people are united in a shared experience. This war has not united us, it’s divided us. It’s separated those of us with AIDS and those of us who fight for people with AIDS from the rest of the population.

Someday, the AIDS crisis will be over. Remember that. And when that day comes — when that day has come and gone, there’ll be people alive on this earth — gay people and straight people, men and women, black and white, who will hear the story that once there was a terrible disease in this country and all over the world, and that a brave group of people stood up and fought and, in some cases, gave their lives, so that other people might live and be free.

And then after we kick the shit out of this disease, we are all gonna be alive to kick the shit out of this system so that this never happens again.”

Rest in power, Vito. You and millions of others would still be here had it not been for this government’s willful neglect and failure.

on may 6, 1989, puerto rican freestyle/pop singer, safire, peaked at #12 on the hot 100 and #4 on the AC chart with the ballad, “thinking of you.”

born wilma cosmé in san juan puerto rico and raised in east harlem, safire was one of the first freestyle solo artist to land a deal with a major record label after her first two independently released singles, “don’t break my heart” (1986) and “let me be the one” (1987). both singles helped to break freestyle music, then called “latin hip-hop” at pop radio in new york, chicago, los angeles and miami. 

in the summer of 1988, safire released her self-titled debut album on polygram records. the lead single, “boy, i’ve been told,” penned by marc anthony, peaked at #48 on the hot 100 (an accomplishment for a dance song at the time) helped safire land the cover of the spin magazine, becoming the first latina artist to do so.

the follow-up single, “thinking of you”, would become her biggest hit to date across multiple formats. written by safire in memory of her uncle mario santiago who died of AIDS complications in 1984, “thinking” was a heartfelt remembrance of those lost during the onset of the epidemic.

the spanish translation of the song, “el recuerdo de ti”, translated by actor-singer ruben blades, was featured in a AIDS awareness public service announcement that aired on spanish language markets in both the US and across latin america.

in 1989, the number of U.S. reported AIDS cases reached 100,000. safire’s breakthrough hit also served as a breakthrough in HIV prevention messaging targeting latinxs during a period when targeted prevention messages were non-existent.

safire later received an ASCAP song writing award for “thinking.” she continued to record and perform but was not able to duplicate the success of “thinking.” 30 years later, we are still filled with gratitude that she used her platform to raise awareness about HIV. and because of her, her uncle mario santiago will never be forgotten.

JUSTICE FOR ROXSANA WEEK OF ACTION

Roxsana Hernandez was a 33-year old transgender woman from Honduras who decided to come to the United States seeking a better future. She left Honduras because she didn’t feel safe, and threats had been made against her life.

After journeying through Guatemala and Mexico, and joining the migrant caravan, she turned herself in at the San Ysidro port of entry in San Diego on May 9, 2018 seeking asylum.

Buzzfeed interviewed her before she turned herself in at the border and is quoted as saying, “I didn’t want to come to Mexico — I wanted to stay in Honduras but I couldn’t. They kill trans people in Honduras. I’m scared of that.” Once she was in ICE custody, she was put in a hielera, or “icebox.” On May 9, 2018, she was transferred to Cibola Detention Center in New Mexico. Even though she asked for medical care, she wasn’t given any. The following day she was taken by air ambulance to Lovelace Medical Center in Albuquerque. She was in the intensive care unit there until May 25 when she died.

Last year, FamiliaTQLM, the Transgender Law Center, the Law Office of Andrew R. Free, and Black LGBTQIA+ Migrant Project – BLMP filed a Notice of Wrongful Death Tort Claim in New Mexico, the first step in holding all parties responsible for Roxsana Hernandez’s death accountable.

This Week of Action is meant to honor Roxsana Hernandez’ life and to hold every person, and institution, that she came into contact with, accountable for her death given that with the proper care she would be with us today.

ICE continues to deny responsibility for her death but we won’t stop until we get #JusticeforRoxsana.

Follow @familiatqlm for ways to support this effort. 

A throwback to my childhood, kicking it back in toon town with an irritating pick eye living my best life with the mains. I remember waking up super drowsy after a scary movie night watching “Evil Dead” and the tio’s, tia’s, and grandma surprising the kids with a trip to Magic Kingdom. I think back and try to imagine how much work they all put in to send the entire family to an amusement park and it really fills my heart at their commitment to giving us the best childhood they could given our financial circumstances.

The entire time the cousin’s collective would run around taking everything in; the long lines, the rubber-textured buildings, and the hopes of crossing paths with Mickey. And really, I had my own agenda to get some of the chisme from Daisy, Minnie, and as many of the princesses as possible. I recall me and my prima being the fashionable divas with the jackets wrapped around the waist and our “super-fast” athletic shoes. Nobody couldn’t tell us nothing with our looks, energy, and ice-cream.

While many of us in this picture were so young and the memories potentially faint for some, this experience remains symbolically important and vivid for me. I’m not a huge fan of the franchise now but I did experience my grandma’s love for the different characters. She would have the Disney merchandise throughout her trailer and most notably the Mickey and Minnie plush dolls that sat next to her rotary dial phone. She’s not pictured in this one, but I know she enjoyed this day as much as we did.

J. Aces Lira (He/Him/His) Chicago, IL

Aces Lira is a Gran Varones Fellow. His is a MSW/MA graduate student in Women Studies and Gender Studies at Loyola University Chicago. As a Research Assistant, he is based in the US Regional Network within the International Partnership for Queer Youth Resilience (INQYR) and is getting a foot in the door on all things research-related. Outside of the books, Aces orchestrates portraits along with art through different mediums and also lives for National Park excursions.

i grew up in costa rica, in a taiwanese family that migrated to costa rica in the late 70’s. growing up in costa rica was quite interesting because i was this asian person that didn’t feel like they belonged there. it was always this sense of otherness. children would always call me “chino” or “japonés” even though we were taiwanese.

in latin america there are these derogatory songs towards asians like “chino cochino” and “la china una china se perdió.” all these things, they used to sing to us and they made us feel like shit. my sister and i talk about it all the time. we hated it. so talking to other latin asians it helps - but then you add that layer of being queer.

i am sure you watched “selena”, right? when abraham tells selena and AB that its hard to be mexican-american in the US because they are not mexican enough for mexicans and they’re not american enough for americans. so i feel like i am always there. like when i go to taiwan to visit family, i’m not taiwanese enough, i’m always like the foreigner. when i’m in costa rica, i never feel ike i fully belong because i’m this asian person down there who eats “weird” things. here in the united states, i’m this asian with a spanish accent. there is a little bit of refuge hanging out with, there’s a group in the bay area called “latin asians of the bay area”, we used to be more active but we kinda dissolved a bit but it was nice to relate to other latin asians here in the US that were either born or raised or lived in the latin americas that kinda faced the issues we faced.

i had $300 and my backpack the year that i moved to the states. i was 17, it was really hard cuz it was not planned. i didn’t speak english every well. i lived with these two random gays guys that i knew from gay.com. at the time, one was 29 and the other 32 years old in baton rouge, lousinana. they took care of me. they taught me how to speak english, they taught me how to drive. so yeah, that was a tough year because i had to learn a lot. It was rough but thankfully, i made it and i’m here.

george, he/him/his

san francisco, ca.

interviewed & photographed by: louie a. ortiz-fonseca