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Tag: Giovanna Fischer

  • South L.A. celebrated Black joy and resistance at yesterday’s Martin Luther King Jr. Day Parade

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    At 9 a.m. on Monday, Jan. 19, South L.A. community members gathered on the streets, holding onto lawn chairs and the hands of their children and family members. “Good morning,” one greeted. “Are you ready for the parade?” Neighbors laughed and hugged underneath the warm morning sun, staring into the horizon in anticipation of the county’s official Martin Luther King Jr. Day Parade, organized by Bakewell Media and the Los Angeles Sentinel Newspaper.

    (Blade photo by Kristie Song)

    When the parade began an hour later, organizations like labor union SEIU Local 721, civil rights group Black Lives Matter Los Angeles, and HIV care and advocacy nonprofit AIDS Healthcare Foundation marched to cheers and waves from the crowd. Young musicians, drill and cheer teams from Marcus Garvey School and other schools stepped in unison, performing elaborate routines and sending jolting, infectious waves of drum and trumpet like electricity through paradegoers.

    (Blade photo by Kristie Song)

    Black liberty and joy coalesced with a call to face injustice at yesterday’s festivities. Black Lives Matter Los Angeles members handed out flyers demanding accountability for Keith Porter, who was killed by an off-duty Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent on Dec. 31. Marchers also waved the Iranian flag in solidarity with its people, who have faced increasing state-sanctioned violence after they began protesting the government in the midst of an economic downfall. 

    Communal care and empowerment remain, for many, the only way forward as trust in broader governmental systems and structures wanes. While celebrating the monumental work of the late civil rights activist, community members yesterday echoed an important, resonant message: The work is not yet done. 

    This community work is largely supported by local advocates and organizations like Center South: one of the Los Angeles LGBT Center’s community sites. Yesterday morning, ahead of the parade, senior program manager Steven Campa and fellow staff members welcomed people into the space for coffee and pastries. 

    (Blade photo by Kristie Song)

    They also handed out flyers introducing residents to the site’s resources, which include: hygiene kits, HIV testing, a free monthly farmers market and clothing closet, mental health and primary care services, substance use and recovery programs, as well as social groups that prioritize LGBTQ+ people of color living in the neighborhood. 

    Center South opened six years ago, reclaiming a space that once housed a vibrant jazz supper club. At first, the site focused on providing services specifically for men who have sex with men (MSM), regardless of whether or not they identified as a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Over time, Center South became more inclusive of and responsive to the local community as a whole, becoming a safe space for anyone in South L.A. seeking refuge and care. 

    Campa, who has been with Center South since its founding, emphasized the constantly-evolving nature of the place as it molds itself to best serve and represent its community. Staff members and clinicians are nurtured by their own personal connections to the neighborhood, yearning to give back to the place that raised them. 

    And that has an effect. “How does it look to have a provider who’s queer: a provider that looks like folks in the community?” Campa said. “We’re our community. Folks grew up [here]…To speak to the MLK Day parade, this was a holiday for the Center. Folks chose to be here. Understanding that we are on MLK Boulevard, we want to continue to do [show up] every year to provide a safe space for the community.” 

    (Blade photo by Kristie Song)

    Campa, his staff members, and fellow Los Angeles LGBT Center staff want to expand what it means to be safe and healthy — and to see that reflected more broadly in their communities. “A healthy person needs medical care [and more],” said the Center’s chief equity officer, Giovanna Fischer, who showed up on Monday to celebrate the parade with the community. “[They also] need food access, immigration support…That’s definitely going to impact their health and wellbeing,” Fischer told the Blade. “

    Campa, Fischer, and other advocates are strategizing for their community in uncertain times, as threats to instrumental funding are seemingly always on the table. But as they “forecast for the future” and continue to build a collective vision that uplifts LGBTQ+ people of color, their fight endures. “We deserve to think about where we want to go,” Fischer said. “We deserve the opportunity to dream and scheme, and so does our community. So until further notice, we’re going to continue to do that.” 

    (Blade photo by Kristie Song)

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

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    Kristie Song

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  • Queer communities will face disproportionate harm when SNAP ends

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    Healing and uplifting communities through music and unity is the foundation of this event space created by Zacil “DJ Sizzle Fantastic” Pech and Norma “Normz La Oaxaqueña” Fajardo. 

    For nearly a decade DJ Sizzle has built a reputation in the queer POC and Spanish-speaking undocumented communities for making the space for them to come together to celebrate their culture and partake in the ultimate act of resistance — joy. 

    Couples, companions, comadres all dance together on the dancefloor at Cumbiatón. (Photo courtesy of Cumbiatón).

    Cumbiatón was created during the first Trump administration as a direct response to the erasure, racism, homophobia and xenophobia that was engrained into the administration’s mission for those first four years. Now that the second Trump administration is upon us, the racism, homophobia, transphobia and xenophobia are tenfold.

    This event space is a ‘party for the hood, by the hood.’ It is led by women, queer and trans people of color in every aspect of the production process.

    The recent fires that burned through Altadena and Pacific Palisades made DJ Sizzle decide to step back from marketing the event in Los Angeles, an area where people had just lost their businesses, homes and where their lives were completely thrown for a loop. 

    Now they’re back, doubling-down on their mission to bring cumbias, corridos and all the music many of us grew up listening to, to places that are accessible and safe for our communities. 

    “I started Cumbiatón back in 2016, right after the election — which was weirdly similar because we’re going through it again. And a lot of us come from the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) movement. We were the ones to really push for that to happen along with the DREAM Act.”

    DJ Sizzle says that she wanted to create a space out on the streets to celebrate life and come together, because of how mentally and physically taxing it is to be a part of the marginalized communities that were and still are, a major target for ongoing political attacks.

    Edwin Soto and Julio Salgado pose for a photo at a Cumbiaton event in 2024. (Photo courtesy of Cumbiatón).

    “We need these spaces so that we can kind of refuel and rejoice in each other’s existence,” said DJ Sizzle. “Because we saw each other out on the street a lot, but never did we really have time to sit down, have a drink, talk, laugh. So I found that music was the way to bring people together and that’s how Cumbiatón got started. It was honestly like a movement of political resistance through music.”

    DJ Sizzle is an undocumented community organizer who aims to not only bring awareness to the issues that her communities face, but also to make space to celebrate the wins and bond over the music that brings people in Latin America, East L.A., Boyle Heights and the Bay area together.  

    Julio Salgado, a queer, visionary artist and migrant rights activist from Ensenada, Baja California with roots in Long Beach and the Bay Area, connected with DJ Sizzle over their shared passion in advocating for immigrant rights. 

    “Cumbiatón was created during the first [Trump] administration, where you know, a lot of people were really bummed out and so what Sizzle wanted to create was a place where people could come together and celebrate ourselves,” said Salgado. “Fast-forward to the second [Trump] administration and we’re here and feel a little bit more like: ‘oh shit, things are bad again.’ But, things have always been bad.”

    Salgado is involved with Cumbiatón through his art. He is a mixed-media artist who creates cartoons using his lived experience with his sobriety journey, undocumented status and queer identity.

    With a background in journalism from California State University, Long Beach, Salgado documents what activists do in the undocumented spaces he has been a part of throughout his life. 

    In 2017, Salgado moved back to Long Beach from the Bay Area, and at the time he started doing political artwork and posters for protests against the first Trump administration, but because the nature of that work can be very tiring, he says that he turned to a more uplifting version of his art where he also draws the joy and unity in his communities. 

    When he and Sizzle linked up to collaborate during that time, he thought he could use his skills to help uplift this brand and bring it to the forefront of the many events that saturate the party landscape. 

    DJ Sizzle doing her thing on stage, giving the crowd the music they went looking for. (Photo courtesy of Cumbiatón).

    “We are familiar with using the dance floor as a way to kind of put the trauma a little bit away just for one night, get together and completely forget,” said Salgado. 

    Coming from an undocumented background, Salgado and Sizzle say that their experience with their legal status has made them very aware of how to go about the ID-check process at the door for their events. 

    “When you’re undocumented, you have something called a [High Security Consular Registration (HSCR)] and it’s kind of like your ID and many of these heterosexual clubs would see that and say it was fake,” said Salgado. “But at the gay club, they didn’t care.” 

    Just being conscious of what that form of ID looks like and knowing that it’s not fake, helps many of the hundreds of people who come through for Cumbiatón, feel just slightly more at ease. 

    Edwin Soto, who is another community activist and leader in the undocu-queer community, is also involved in the planning and organizing of the event. 

    In the long journey of making Cumbiatón what it is now, they say that they have all been very intentional about who they bring in, making sure that whoever they are, they also understand the experience of being undocumented and accepted anyway. 

    “Something that Sizzle and the team have been very intentional about is making sure that [the security at the door] knows that someone might be using their consulate card,” said Soto. 

    Bringing together this event space is no easy task, considering the fact that their events are deeply thought out, intentional and inclusive of not just people of color, but also people with differing abilities and people who do not reflect the norm in West Hollywood clubs. 

    “We created the space that we were longing for that we did not see in West Hollywood,” he said. “[Cumbiatón] is what life could really be like. Where women are not harassed by men. Where people are not body-shamed for what they’re wearing.” 

    When it comes to their lives outside of Cumbiatón and partying, Sizzle says that it does get exhausting and planning the event gets overwhelming. 

    “It is really difficult, I’m not going to lie,” said DJ Sizzle. “We are at a disadvantage being queer and being undocumented because this administration triggers us to a point that, anyone who is not a part of those identities or marginalized communities would ever be able to understand,” said Sizzle. “There are times where I’m just like: ‘I’m going to cocoon for a little bit’ and then that affects the marketing and the communication.” 

    Usually, the events bring in hundreds of people who are looking for community, safety and inclusion. (Photo courtesy of Cumbiatón).

    That’s a little bit about what goes on behind the scenes — which really shouldn’t come as a surprise for anyone who is out there fighting for basic human rights, while also making the space to party and enjoy themselves.

    “I’m really trying to find balance and honestly my life raft are my friends and my community,” she said. “Like, being able to share, being able to have this plática, and be like ‘bitch, I see you and I know its fucked up, but we got each other.’”

    Cumbiatón was made with the purpose of making space to include and invite the many different people in these communities who are otherwise sidelined in broader conversations and in party scenes where they are not as inclusive or thoughtful about their attendees. 

    “How beautiful is it to be queer and listen to rancheras and to norteñas and cumbia, and to just own it,” said Soto. 

    To join Cumbiatón at their next party, visit their Instagram page.

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    Kristie Song

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