ReportWire

Tag: Lindsey Horvath

  • Project Angel Food is now able to feed 10,000 people daily with expanded building

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    This Tuesday, the Supreme Court heard oral arguments regarding two cases about transgender girls in sports: Little v. Hecox and West Virginia v. B.P.J. 

    In 2020, Idaho Governor Brad Little signed into law HB 500, which bans transgender girls and women from participating in school sports. This affected the first case’s respondent: transgender student athlete Lindsay Hecox, who was barred from participating in the track and cross country teams as well as intramural soccer and running clubs.

    In 2021, then-governor of West Virginia, Jim Justice, approved HB 3293, which enacts a similar ban. Becky Pepper-Jackson (B.P.J.), now an incoming high school student, opposed the discriminatory policy when it prevented her from joining her then-middle school’s cross country and track and field teams. Pepper-Jackson has also only undergone female puberty due to gender-affirming care, but West Virginia argues that its anti-transgender policies should be upheld because of her assigned sex at birth. 

    For LGBTQ+ advocates and allies, these cases illustrate the burden and harm transgender people face daily as their rights to privacy, dignity, care, and inclusion are constantly at risk of being eroded and stripped completely. 

    Experts also wonder if these cases could potentially reshape the Constitution’s Equal Protection Clause as well as the civil rights law, Title IX. The former prohibits discrimination on other factors aside from race, though governments have argued that certain “suspect classifications” can be looked at more closely through “heightened scrutiny.” The latter prohibits sex-based discrimination in federally-funded schools.

    What is unfolding and how local advocates are informing change:

    The fight ahead is weary, and experts are certain that the states involved will not concede their points. In a webinar organized yesterday by the Williams Institute, several LGBTQ+ policy experts, including Rutgers Law School professor and anti-discrimination scholar Katie Eyer, examined where these cases may be heading, as well as efforts to muddy the arguments. 

    “It seems possible that the court might try to sidestep that issue here by saying that these laws don’t target transgender people at all,” Eyer said. “I think for most people, this seems bananas: like an upside-down world. We all know these laws were about transgender people.”

    Jenny Pizer, an attorney for the LGBTQ+ civil rights legal organization Lambda Legal and a co-counsel member for the B.P.J. case, affirmed this sentiment at a press conference organized Tuesday by Lambda Legal and AIDS Healthcare Foundation affinity group, FLUX. “They’ve gone to great lengths to say there’s no discrimination,” Pizer said. “[They’re arguing] it’s just technicalities or classifications.” 

    Eyer was one of three Equal Protections scholars who filed an amicus brief to be considered in the Supreme Court cases. An amicus brief is a legal document submitted by someone who is not involved directly in a case but who may offer additional perspectives and information that can inform the ruling process. 

    Eyer’s brief provided historical context that clarified the disadvantages of blanket sex-based policies. These types of laws, according to Eyer, uphold stereotypes over nuance, truth, and equal protection guidelines. For Pepper-Jackson, who has only undergone female puberty and who does not “benefit” from what dissidents define as a sex-based competitive “advantage,” the state should have provided her the ability to argue that she should have the same rights as other girls. 

    “Of course, the state hasn’t done that here,” Eyer said. “Under these precedents, the Supreme Court should invalidate the laws as applied to those trans girls who really don’t have a sex-based competitive advantage.”

    Who are these bills protecting?

    The states argue that their policies are merely “ensuring safety and fairness in girls’ sports.” But queer advocates understand that this is a veneer for the exclusion of transgender people from society. Forcing trans youth out of sports “does not protect anyone,” according to California LGBTQ Health and Human Services Network director Dannie Ceseňa, who spoke at Tuesday’s press conference.

    “It encourages the scrutiny of children’s bodies. It fuels gender policing, and it creates hostile school environments — not safer ones,” said Ceseňa. “Our youth should not inherit a world that treats their existence as a threat.” 

    Transgender people are systemically disempowered 

    At yesterday’s webinar, Distinguished Visiting Scholar at the Williams Institute Andrew Flores discussed his own amicus brief in support of Pepper-Jackson. The brief highlights the need for “heightened judicial scrutiny” in Pepper-Jackson’s case because the majority of political processes “systemically fail” transgender people. 

    For example, the transgender community faces substantial barriers in exercising their voter rights because of voter identification laws and other policies that regulate and define identity. “Even being able to gain access to the franchise is a burden for transgender people,” Flores said. “The court does play an important role there. It can grant legitimacy to arguments…or at least [acknowledge] that these issues are more complicated than maybe how they’ll receive them.” 

    What’s next?

    Experts are hesitant about where the cases stand. “Bottom line: I don’t know what the court is going to do in these cases. They may send them back down for further development,” Pizer said, who thinks future rulings will not shift more overarching policies regarding transgender rights. “I think they will probably decide based only on laws about sports, not laws more broadly about the rights of trans folks.” 

    But whatever is decided, the impacts will trickle down to everyone. While the cases deal specifically with anti-transgender policies, experts warn that LGBTQ+ issues have always been tied to racial, economic, and disability justice. “There’s this looming constitutional campaign to really undermine civil rights,” said Eyer. “That affects LGBTQ people. It affects people of color. It affects people with disabilities. It affects everybody, and it really is concerning.” 

    As transgender inclusion and safety are being argued on the largest legal stage, advocates are asking: “When are you going to step up?” They are also sending a direct message to transgender youth: “We see you, we believe in you, and we are fighting for you,” said Ceseňa. “You deserve joy, community, and care. You deserve a future that reflects who you are and not who anyone or any politician demands you to be. Trans youth deserve better.” 

    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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  • L.A. County Supervisors vote to declare local emergency in support of immigrant community members

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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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