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.
You may not be too familiar with LA County Assessor Jeffrey Prang. You’ve probably never heard of the office of the LA County Assessor, or you might only have a vague notion of what it does.
But with a career in city politics spanning nearly thirty years, he’s among the longest-serving openly gay elected officials in the United States, and for his work serving the people of Los Angeles and championing the rights of the city’s LGBTQ people, the Stonewall Democratic Club is honoring him at their 50th Anniversary Celebration and Awards Night Nov 15 at Beaches Tropicana in West Hollywood.
Prang moved to Los Angeles from his native Michigan after college in 1991, specifically seeking an opportunity to serve in politics as an openly gay man. In 1997, he was elected to the West Hollywood City Council, where he served for 18 years, including four stints as mayor.
“I was active in politics, but in Michigan at the time I left, you couldn’t really be out and involved in politics… My life was so compartmentalized. I had my straight friends, my gay friends, my political friends, and I couldn’t really mix and match those things,” he says.
“One of the things that was really impactful was as you drove down Santa Monica Boulevard and saw those rainbow flags placed there by the government in the median island. That really said, this is a place where you can be yourself. You don’t have to be afraid.”
One thing that’s changed over Prang’s time in office is West Hollywood’s uniqueness as a place of safety for the queer community.
“It used to be, you could only be out and gay and politically involved if you were from Silver Lake or from West Hollywood. The thought of being able to do that in Downey or Monterey Park or Pomona was foreign. But now we have LGBTQ centers, gay pride celebrations, and LGBT elected officials in all those jurisdictions, something that we wouldn’t have thought possible 40 years ago,” he says.
Prang’s jump to county politics is emblematic of that shift. In 2014, amid a scandal that brought down the previous county assessor, Prang threw his name in contention for the job, having worked in the assessor’s office already for the previous two years. He beat out eleven contenders in the election, won reelection in 2018 and 2022, and is seeking a fourth term next year.
To put those victories in perspective, at the time of his first election, Prang represented more people than any other openly gay elected official in the world.
Beyond his office, Prang has lent his experience with ballot box success to helping get more LGBT people elected through his work with the Stonewall Democrats and with a new organization he co-founded last year called the LA County LGBTQ Elected Officials Association (LACLEO).
LACLEO counts more than fifty members, including officials from all parts of the county, municipal and state legislators, and members of school boards, water boards, and city clerks.
“I assembled this group to collectively use our elected strength and influence to help impact policy in Sacramento and in Washington, DC, to take advantage of these elected leaders who have a bigger voice in government than the average person, and to train them and educate them to be better advocates on behalf of the issues that are important for us,” Prang says.
“I do believe as a senior high-level official I need to play a role and have an important voice in supporting our community,” he says.
Ok, but what is the LA County assessor, anyway?
“Nobody knows what the assessor is. 99% of people think I’m the guy who collects taxes,” Prang says.
The assessor makes sure that all properties in the county are properly recorded and fairly assessed so that taxes can be levied correctly. It’s a wonky job, but one that has a big impact on how the city raises money for programs.
And that wonkiness suits Prang just fine. While the job may seem unglamorous, he gleefully boasts about his work overhauling the office’s technology to improve customer service and efficiency, which he says is proving to be a role model for other county offices.
“I inherited this 1970s-era mainframe green screen DOS-based legacy system. And believe it or not, that’s the standard technology for most large government agencies. That’s why the DMV sucks. That’s why the tax collection system sucks. But I spent $130 million over almost 10 years to rebuild our system to a digitized cloud-based system,” Prang says.
“I think the fact that my program was so successful did give some impetus to the board funding the tax collector and the auditor-controller to update their system, which is 40 years behind where they need to be.”
More tangible impacts for everyday Angelenos include his outreach to promote tax savings programs for homeowners, seniors, and nonprofits, and a new college training program that gives students a pipeline to good jobs in the county.
As attacks on the queer community intensify from the federal government, Prang says the Stonewall Democrats are an important locus of organization and resistance, and he encourages anyone to get involved.
“It is still an important and relevant organization that provides opportunities for LGBTQ people to get involved, to have an impact on our government and our civic life. If you just wanna come and volunteer and donate your time, it provides that, if you really want to do more and have a bigger voice and move into areas of leadership, it provides an opportunity for that as well,” he says.
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.
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.
Troy Masters was a cheerleader. When my name was called as the Los Angeles Press Club’s Print Journalist of the Year for 2020, Troy leapt out of his seat with a whoop and an almost jazz-hand enthusiasm, thrilled that the mainstream audience attending the Southern California Journalism Awards gala that October night in 2021 recognized the value of the LGBTQ community’s Los Angeles Blade.
That joy has been extinguished. On Wednesday, Dec. 11, after frantic unanswered calls from his sister Tammy late Monday and Tuesday, Troy’s longtime friend and former partner Arturo Jiminez did a wellness check at Troy’s L.A. apartment and found him dead, with his beloved dog Cody quietly alive by his side. The L.A. Coroner determined Troy Masters died by suicide. No note was recovered. He was 63.
Considered smart, charming, committed to LGBTQ people and the LGBTQ press, Troy’s inexplicable suicide shook everyone, even those with whom he sometimes clashed.
Troy’s sister and mother – to whom he was absolutely devoted – are devastated. “We are still trying to navigate our lives without our precious brother/son. I want the world to know that Troy was loved and we always tried to let him know that,” says younger sister Tammy Masters.
Tammy was 16 when she discovered Troy was gay and outed him to their mother. A “busy-body sister,” Tammy picked up the phone at their Tennessee home and heard Troy talking with his college boyfriend. She confronted him and he begged her not to tell.
“Of course, I ran and told Mom,” Tammy says, chuckling during the phone call. “But she – like all mothers – knew it. She knew it from an early age but loved him unconditionally; 1979 was a time [in the Deep South] when this just was not spoken of. But that didn’t stop Mom from being in his corner.”
Mom even marched with Troy in his first Gay Pride Parade in New York City. “Mom said to him, ‘Oh, my! All these handsome men and not one of them has given me a second look! They are too busy checking each other out!” Tammy says, bursting into laughter. “Troy and my mother had that kind of understanding that she would always be there and always have his back!
“As for me,” she continues, “I have lost the brother that I used to fight for in any given situation. And I will continue to honor his cause and lifetime commitment to the rights and freedom for the LGBTQ community!”
Tammy adds: “The outpouring of love has been comforting at this difficult time and we thank all of you!”
Troy Masters and his beloved dog Cody.
No one yet knows why Troy took his life. We may never know. But Troy and I often shared our deeply disturbing bouts with drowning depression. Waves would inexplicitly come upon us, triggered by sadness or an image or a thought we’d let get mangled in our unresolved, inescapable past trauma.
We survived because we shared our pain without judgment or shame. We may have argued – but in this, we trusted each other. We set everything else aside and respectfully, actively listened to the words and the pain within the words.
Listening, Indian philosopher Krishnamurti once said, is an act of love. And we practiced listening. We sought stories that led to laughter. That was the rope ladder out of the dark rabbit hole with its bottomless pit of bullying and endless suffering. Rung by rung, we’d talk and laugh and gripe about our beloved dogs.
I shared my 12 Step mantra when I got clean and sober: I will not drink, use or kill myself one minute at a time. A suicide survivor, I sought help and I urged him to seek help, too, since I was only a loving friend – and sometimes that’s not enough.
(If you need help, please reach out to talk with someone: call or text 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. They also have services in Spanish and for the deaf.)
In 2015, Troy wrote a personal essay for Gay City News about his idyllic childhood in the 1960s with his sister in Nashville, where his stepfather was a prominent musician. The people he met “taught me a lot about having a mission in life.”
During summers, they went to Dothan, Ala., to hang out with his stepfather’s mother, Granny Alabama. But Troy learned about “adult conversation — often filled with derogatory expletives about Blacks and Jews” and felt “my safety there was fragile.”
It was a harsh revelation. “‘Troy is a queer,’ I overheard my stepfather say with energetic disgust to another family member,” Troy wrote. “Even at 13, I understood that my feelings for other boys were supposed to be secret. Now I knew terror. What my stepfather said humiliated me, sending an icy panic through my body that changed my demeanor and ruined my confidence. For the first time in my life, I felt depression and I became painfully shy. Alabama became a place, not of love, not of shelter, not of the magic of family, but of fear.”
At the public pool, “kids would scream, ‘faggot,’ ‘queer,’ ‘chicken,’ ‘homo,’ as they tried to dunk my head under the water. At one point, a big crowd joined in –– including kids I had known all my life –– and I was terrified they were trying to drown me.
“My depression became dangerous and I remember thinking of ways to hurt myself,” Troy wrote.
But Troy Masters — who left home at 17 and graduated from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville — focused on creating a life that prioritized being of service to his own intersectional LGBTQ people. He also practiced compassion and last August, Troy reached out to his dying stepfather. A 45-minute Facetime farewell turned into a lovefest of forgiveness and reconciliation.
Troy discovered his advocacy chops as an ad representative at the daring gay and lesbian activist publication Outweek from 1989 to 1991.
“We had no idea that hiring him would change someone’s life, its trajectory and create a lifelong commitment” to the LGBTQ press, says Outweek’s co-founder and former editor-in-chief Gabriel Rotello, now a TV producer. “He was great – always a pleasure to work with. He had very little drama – and there was a lot of drama at Outweek. It was a tumultuous time and I tended to hire people because of their activism,” including Michelangelo Signorile, Masha Gessen, and Sarah Pettit.
Rotello speculates that because Troy “knew what he was doing” in a difficult profession, he was determined to launch his own publication when Outweek folded. “I’ve always been very happy it happened that way for Troy,” Rotello says. “It was a cool thing.”
Troy and friends launched NYQ, renamed QW, funded by record producer and ACT UP supporter Bill Chafin. QW (QueerWeek) was the first glossy gay and lesbian magazine published in New York City featuring news, culture, and events. It lasted for 18 months until Chafin died of AIDS in 1992 at age 35.
The horrific Second Wave of AIDS was peaking in 1992 but New Yorkers had no gay news source to provide reliable information at the epicenter of the epidemic.
“When my business partner died of AIDS and I had to close shop, I was left hopeless and severely depressed while the epidemic raged around me. I was barely functioning,” Troy told VoyageLA in 2018. “But one day, a friend in Moscow, Masha Gessen, urged me to get off my back and get busy; New York’s LGBT community was suffering an urgent health care crisis, fighting for basic legal rights and against an increase in violence. That, she said, was not nothing and I needed to get back in the game.”
Staff of Gay News City in New York City, which Troy Masters founded in 2002.
“We were always in total agreement that the work we were doing was important and that any story we delved into had to be done right,” Schindler wrote in Gay City News.
Though the two “sometimes famously crossed swords,” Troy’s sudden death has special meaning for Schindler. “I will always remember Troy’s sweetness and gentleness. Five days before his death, he texted me birthday wishes with the tag, ‘I hope you get a meaningful spanking today.’ That devilishness stays with me.”
Troy had “very high EI (Emotional Intelligence), Schindler says in a phone call. “He had so much insight into me. It was something he had about a lot of people – what kind of person they were; what they were really saying.”
Troy was also very mischievous. Schindler recounts a time when the two met a very important person in the newspaper business and Troy said something provocative. “I held my breath,” Schindler says. “But it worked. It was an icebreaker. He had the ability to connect quickly.”
The journalistic standard at LGNY and Gay City News was not a question of “objectivity” but fairness. “We’re pro-gay,” Schindler says, quoting Andy Humm. “Our reporting is clear advocacy yet I think we were viewed in New York as an honest broker.”
Schindler thinks Troy’s move to Los Angeles to jump-start his entrepreneurial spirit and reconnect with Arturo, who was already in L.A., was risky. “He was over 50,” Schindler says. “I was surprised and disappointed to lose a colleague – but he was always surprising.”
“In many ways, crossing the continent and starting a print newspaper venture in this digitally obsessed era was a high-wire, counter-intuitive decision,” Troy told VoyageLA. “But I have been relentlessly determined and absolutely confident that my decades of experience make me uniquely positioned to do this.”
Troy launched The Pride L.A. as part of the Mirror Media Group, which publishes the Santa Monica Mirror and other Westside community papers. But on June 12, 2016, the day of the Pulse Nightclub shooting in Orlando, Fla., Troy said he found MAGA paraphernalia in a partner’s office. He immediately plotted his exit. On March 10, 2017, Troy and the “internationally respected” Washington Blade announced the launch of the Los Angeles Blade.
Troy Masters and then-Rep. Adam Schiff. (Photo courtesy of Karen Ocamb)
In a March 23, 2017 commentary promising a commitment to journalistic excellence, Troy wrote: “We are living in a paradigm shifting moment in real time. You can feel it. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Sometimes it’s toxic. Sometimes it’s perplexing, even terrifying. On the other hand, sometimes it’s just downright exhilarating. This moment is a profound opportunity to reexamine our roots and jumpstart our passion for full equality.”
Troy tried hard to keep that commitment, including writing a personal essay to illustrate that LGBTQ people are part of the #MeToo movement. In “Ending a Long Silence,” Troy wrote about being raped at 14 or 15 by an Amtrak employee on “The Floridian” traveling from Dothan, Ala., to Nashville.
“What I thought was innocent and flirtatious affection quickly turned sexual and into a full-fledged rape,” Troy wrote. “I panicked as he undressed me, unable to yell out and frozen by fear. I was falling into a deepening shame that was almost like a dissociation, something I found myself doing in moments of childhood stress from that moment on. Occasionally, even now.”
From the personal to the political, Troy Masters tried to inform and inspire LGBTQ people.
“Just recently he invited us to participate with the LA Blade and other partners to support the LGBTQ forum on Asylum Seekers and Immigrants. He cared about underserved community. He explored LGBTQ who were ignored and forgotten. He wanted to end HIV; help support people living with HIV but most of all, he fought for justice,” Zaldivar says. “I am saddened by his loss. His voice will never be forgotten. We will remember him as an unsung hero. May he rest in peace in the hands of God.”
“It pains me to know that my dear, beautiful and amazing friend Troy is no longer with us … He always gave me and many people light,” Salcedo says. “I know that we are living in dark times right now and we need to understand that our ancestors and transcestors are the one who are going to walk us through these dark times… See you on the other side, my dear and beautiful sibling in the struggle, Troy Masters.”
“Troy was immensely committed to covering stories from the LGBTQ community. Following his move to Los Angeles from New York, he became dedicated to featuring news from the City of West Hollywood in the Los Angeles Blade and we worked with him for many years,” says Joshua Schare, director of Communications for the City of West Hollywood, who knew Troy for 30 years, starting in 1994 as a college intern at OUT Magazine.
“Like so many of us at the City of West Hollywood and in the region’s LGBTQ community, I will miss him and his day-to-day impact on our community.”
Troy Masters accepting a proclamation from the City of West Hollywood. (Photo by Richard Settle for the City of West Hollywood)
“Troy Masters was a visionary, mentor, and advocate; however, the title I most associated with him was friend,” says West Hollywood Mayor John Erickson. “Troy was always a sense of light and working to bring awareness to issues and causes larger than himself. He was an advocate for so many and for me personally, not having him in the world makes it a little less bright. Rest in Power, Troy. We will continue to cause good trouble on your behalf.”
Erickson adjourned the WeHo City Council meeting on Monday in his memory.
Masters launched the Los Angeles Blade with his partners from the Washington Blade, Lynne Brown, Kevin Naff, and Brian Pitts, in 2017.
Cover of the election issue of the Los Angeles Blade.
“Troy’s reputation in New York was well known and respected and we were so excited to start this new venture with him,” says Naff. “His passion and dedication to queer LA will be missed by so many. We will carry on the important work of the Los Angeles Blade — it’s part of his legacy and what he would want.”
AIDS Healthcare Foundation President Michael Weinstein, who collaborated with Troy on many projects, says he was “a champion of many things that are near and dear to our heart,” including “being in the forefront of alerting the community to the dangers of Mpox.”
“All of who he was creates a void that we all must try to fill,” Weinstein says. “His death by suicide reminds us that despite the many gains we have made, we’re not all right a lot of the time. The wounds that LGBT people have experienced throughout our lives are yet to be healed even as we face the political storm clouds ahead that will place even greater burdens on our psyches.”
May the memory and legacy of Troy Masters be a blessing.
Veteran LGBTQ journalist Karen Ocamb served as the news editor and reporter for the Los Angeles Blade.
Troy Masters was a cheerleader. When my name was called as the Los Angeles Press Club’s Print Journalist of the Year for 2020, Troy leapt out of his seat with a whoop and an almost jazz-hand enthusiasm, thrilled that the mainstream audience attending the Southern California Journalism Awards gala that October night in 2021 recognized the value of the LGBTQ community’s Los Angeles Blade.
That joy has been extinguished. On Wednesday, Dec. 11, after frantic unanswered calls from his sister Tammy late Monday and Tuesday, Troy’s longtime friend and former partner Arturo Jiminez did a wellness check at Troy’s L.A. apartment and found him dead, with his beloved dog Cody quietly alive by his side. The L.A. Coroner determined Troy Masters died by suicide. No note was recovered. He was 63.
Considered smart, charming, committed to LGBTQ people and the LGBTQ press, Troy’s inexplicable suicide shook everyone, even those with whom he sometimes clashed.
Troy’s sister and mother – to whom he was absolutely devoted – are devastated. “We are still trying to navigate our lives without our precious brother/son. I want the world to know that Troy was loved and we always tried to let him know that,” says younger sister Tammy Masters.
Tammy was 16 when she discovered Troy was gay and outed him to their mother. A “busy-body sister,” Tammy picked up the phone at their Tennessee home and heard Troy talking with his college boyfriend. She confronted him and he begged her not to tell.
“Of course, I ran and told Mom,” Tammy says, chuckling during the phone call. “But she – like all mothers – knew it. She knew it from an early age but loved him unconditionally; 1979 was a time [in the Deep South] when this just was not spoken of. But that didn’t stop Mom from being in his corner.”
Mom even marched with Troy in his first Gay Pride Parade in New York City. “Mom said to him, ‘Oh, my! All these handsome men and not one of them has given me a second look! They are too busy checking each other out!” Tammy says, bursting into laughter. “Troy and my mother had that kind of understanding that she would always be there and always have his back!
“As for me,” she continues, “I have lost the brother that I used to fight for in any given situation. And I will continue to honor his cause and lifetime commitment to the rights and freedom for the LGBTQ community!”
Tammy adds: “The outpouring of love has been comforting at this difficult time and we thank all of you!”
Troy Masters and his beloved dog Cody.
No one yet knows why Troy took his life. We may never know. But Troy and I often shared our deeply disturbing bouts with drowning depression. Waves would inexplicitly come upon us, triggered by sadness or an image or a thought we’d let get mangled in our unresolved, inescapable past trauma.
We survived because we shared our pain without judgment or shame. We may have argued – but in this, we trusted each other. We set everything else aside and respectfully, actively listened to the words and the pain within the words.
Listening, Indian philosopher Krishnamurti once said, is an act of love. And we practiced listening. We sought stories that led to laughter. That was the rope ladder out of the dark rabbit hole with its bottomless pit of bullying and endless suffering. Rung by rung, we’d talk and laugh and gripe about our beloved dogs.
I shared my 12 Step mantra when I got clean and sober: I will not drink, use or kill myself one minute at a time. A suicide survivor, I sought help and I urged him to seek help, too, since I was only a loving friend – and sometimes that’s not enough.
(If you need help, please reach out to talk with someone: call or text 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. They also have services in Spanish and for the deaf.)
In 2015, Troy wrote a personal essay for Gay City News about his idyllic childhood in the 1960s with his sister in Nashville, where his stepfather was a prominent musician. The people he met “taught me a lot about having a mission in life.”
During summers, they went to Dothan, Ala., to hang out with his stepfather’s mother, Granny Alabama. But Troy learned about “adult conversation — often filled with derogatory expletives about Blacks and Jews” and felt “my safety there was fragile.”
It was a harsh revelation. “‘Troy is a queer,’ I overheard my stepfather say with energetic disgust to another family member,” Troy wrote. “Even at 13, I understood that my feelings for other boys were supposed to be secret. Now I knew terror. What my stepfather said humiliated me, sending an icy panic through my body that changed my demeanor and ruined my confidence. For the first time in my life, I felt depression and I became painfully shy. Alabama became a place, not of love, not of shelter, not of the magic of family, but of fear.”
At the public pool, “kids would scream, ‘faggot,’ ‘queer,’ ‘chicken,’ ‘homo,’ as they tried to dunk my head under the water. At one point, a big crowd joined in –– including kids I had known all my life –– and I was terrified they were trying to drown me.
“My depression became dangerous and I remember thinking of ways to hurt myself,” Troy wrote.
But Troy Masters — who left home at 17 and graduated from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville — focused on creating a life that prioritized being of service to his own intersectional LGBTQ people. He also practiced compassion and last August, Troy reached out to his dying stepfather. A 45-minute Facetime farewell turned into a lovefest of forgiveness and reconciliation.
Troy discovered his advocacy chops as an ad representative at the daring gay and lesbian activist publication Outweek from 1989 to 1991.
“We had no idea that hiring him would change someone’s life, its trajectory and create a lifelong commitment” to the LGBTQ press, says Outweek’s co-founder and former editor-in-chief Gabriel Rotello, now a TV producer. “He was great – always a pleasure to work with. He had very little drama – and there was a lot of drama at Outweek. It was a tumultuous time and I tended to hire people because of their activism,” including Michelangelo Signorile, Masha Gessen, and Sarah Pettit.
Rotello speculates that because Troy “knew what he was doing” in a difficult profession, he was determined to launch his own publication when Outweek folded. “I’ve always been very happy it happened that way for Troy,” Rotello says. “It was a cool thing.”
Troy and friends launched NYQ, renamed QW, funded by record producer and ACT UP supporter Bill Chafin. QW (QueerWeek) was the first glossy gay and lesbian magazine published in New York City featuring news, culture, and events. It lasted for 18 months until Chafin died of AIDS in 1992 at age 35.
The horrific Second Wave of AIDS was peaking in 1992 but New Yorkers had no gay news source to provide reliable information at the epicenter of the epidemic.
“When my business partner died of AIDS and I had to close shop, I was left hopeless and severely depressed while the epidemic raged around me. I was barely functioning,” Troy told VoyageLA in 2018. “But one day, a friend in Moscow, Masha Gessen, urged me to get off my back and get busy; New York’s LGBT community was suffering an urgent health care crisis, fighting for basic legal rights and against an increase in violence. That, she said, was not nothing and I needed to get back in the game.”
Staff of Gay News City in New York City, which Troy Masters founded in 2002.
“We were always in total agreement that the work we were doing was important and that any story we delved into had to be done right,” Schindler wrote in Gay City News.
Though the two “sometimes famously crossed swords,” Troy’s sudden death has special meaning for Schindler. “I will always remember Troy’s sweetness and gentleness. Five days before his death, he texted me birthday wishes with the tag, ‘I hope you get a meaningful spanking today.’ That devilishness stays with me.”
Troy had “very high EI (Emotional Intelligence), Schindler says in a phone call. “He had so much insight into me. It was something he had about a lot of people – what kind of person they were; what they were really saying.”
Troy was also very mischievous. Schindler recounts a time when the two met a very important person in the newspaper business and Troy said something provocative. “I held my breath,” Schindler says. “But it worked. It was an icebreaker. He had the ability to connect quickly.”
The journalistic standard at LGNY and Gay City News was not a question of “objectivity” but fairness. “We’re pro-gay,” Schindler says, quoting Andy Humm. “Our reporting is clear advocacy yet I think we were viewed in New York as an honest broker.”
Schindler thinks Troy’s move to Los Angeles to jump-start his entrepreneurial spirit and reconnect with Arturo, who was already in L.A., was risky. “He was over 50,” Schindler says. “I was surprised and disappointed to lose a colleague – but he was always surprising.”
“In many ways, crossing the continent and starting a print newspaper venture in this digitally obsessed era was a high-wire, counter-intuitive decision,” Troy told VoyageLA. “But I have been relentlessly determined and absolutely confident that my decades of experience make me uniquely positioned to do this.”
Troy launched The Pride L.A. as part of the Mirror Media Group, which publishes the Santa Monica Mirror and other Westside community papers. But on June 12, 2016, the day of the Pulse Nightclub shooting in Orlando, Fla., Troy said he found MAGA paraphernalia in a partner’s office. He immediately plotted his exit. On March 10, 2017, Troy and the “internationally respected” Washington Blade announced the launch of the Los Angeles Blade.
Troy Masters and then-Rep. Adam Schiff. (Photo courtesy of Karen Ocamb)
In a March 23, 2017 commentary promising a commitment to journalistic excellence, Troy wrote: “We are living in a paradigm shifting moment in real time. You can feel it. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Sometimes it’s toxic. Sometimes it’s perplexing, even terrifying. On the other hand, sometimes it’s just downright exhilarating. This moment is a profound opportunity to reexamine our roots and jumpstart our passion for full equality.”
Troy tried hard to keep that commitment, including writing a personal essay to illustrate that LGBTQ people are part of the #MeToo movement. In “Ending a Long Silence,” Troy wrote about being raped at 14 or 15 by an Amtrak employee on “The Floridian” traveling from Dothan, Ala., to Nashville.
“What I thought was innocent and flirtatious affection quickly turned sexual and into a full-fledged rape,” Troy wrote. “I panicked as he undressed me, unable to yell out and frozen by fear. I was falling into a deepening shame that was almost like a dissociation, something I found myself doing in moments of childhood stress from that moment on. Occasionally, even now.”
From the personal to the political, Troy Masters tried to inform and inspire LGBTQ people.
“Just recently he invited us to participate with the LA Blade and other partners to support the LGBTQ forum on Asylum Seekers and Immigrants. He cared about underserved community. He explored LGBTQ who were ignored and forgotten. He wanted to end HIV; help support people living with HIV but most of all, he fought for justice,” Zaldivar says. “I am saddened by his loss. His voice will never be forgotten. We will remember him as an unsung hero. May he rest in peace in the hands of God.”
“It pains me to know that my dear, beautiful and amazing friend Troy is no longer with us … He always gave me and many people light,” Salcedo says. “I know that we are living in dark times right now and we need to understand that our ancestors and transcestors are the one who are going to walk us through these dark times… See you on the other side, my dear and beautiful sibling in the struggle, Troy Masters.”
“Troy was immensely committed to covering stories from the LGBTQ community. Following his move to Los Angeles from New York, he became dedicated to featuring news from the City of West Hollywood in the Los Angeles Blade and we worked with him for many years,” says Joshua Schare, director of Communications for the City of West Hollywood, who knew Troy for 30 years, starting in 1994 as a college intern at OUT Magazine.
“Like so many of us at the City of West Hollywood and in the region’s LGBTQ community, I will miss him and his day-to-day impact on our community.”
Troy Masters accepting a proclamation from the City of West Hollywood. (Photo by Richard Settle for the City of West Hollywood)
“Troy Masters was a visionary, mentor, and advocate; however, the title I most associated with him was friend,” says West Hollywood Mayor John Erickson. “Troy was always a sense of light and working to bring awareness to issues and causes larger than himself. He was an advocate for so many and for me personally, not having him in the world makes it a little less bright. Rest in Power, Troy. We will continue to cause good trouble on your behalf.”
Erickson adjourned the WeHo City Council meeting on Monday in his memory.
Masters launched the Los Angeles Blade with his partners from the Washington Blade, Lynne Brown, Kevin Naff, and Brian Pitts, in 2017.
Cover of the election issue of the Los Angeles Blade.
“Troy’s reputation in New York was well known and respected and we were so excited to start this new venture with him,” says Naff. “His passion and dedication to queer LA will be missed by so many. We will carry on the important work of the Los Angeles Blade — it’s part of his legacy and what he would want.”
AIDS Healthcare Foundation President Michael Weinstein, who collaborated with Troy on many projects, says he was “a champion of many things that are near and dear to our heart,” including “being in the forefront of alerting the community to the dangers of Mpox.”
“All of who he was creates a void that we all must try to fill,” Weinstein says. “His death by suicide reminds us that despite the many gains we have made, we’re not all right a lot of the time. The wounds that LGBT people have experienced throughout our lives are yet to be healed even as we face the political storm clouds ahead that will place even greater burdens on our psyches.”
May the memory and legacy of Troy Masters be a blessing.
Veteran LGBTQ journalist Karen Ocamb served as the news editor and reporter for the Los Angeles Blade.
The rallying call urges all the Spanish-speaking and corrido-loving sapphics, butchonas, jotas and vaqueeras, to grab their boots and meet up at Little Joy Cocktails for a carne asada-style, family party every fourth Sunday of the month, featuring spins by DJ Lady Soul, DJ French and DJ Killed By Synth.
In Los Angeles, these three disc jockeys have embraced the word buchona, adding the ‘t’ as a play on the word butch.
The free event, now locally known as Butchona, is a safe space for all the Mexican and Spanish music-loving lesbians to gather on the last Sunday of every month.
Buchona is usually a term used in Mexico and other Spanish-speaking countries to describe a woman who is a boss– someone who exudes dominant energy or marries into a powerful position.
“I didn’t know how well [the idea for Butchona] was going to be received and my favorite part of all that, has been the looks everyone has been bringing,” said Rocio Flores, who goes by DJ Lady Soul.
(Photo Courtesy of Adelyna Tirado) DJ Lady Soul poses outside of Little Joy Cocktails in her butchona outfit.
The event that started only a few months ago, brings in dozens of dressed-up jotas. The ‘looks’ that the crowds bring are reminiscent of how dad’s, tíos, and their friends dressed at Mexican family parties: a tejana, cowboy boots, giant belt buckle and a beer in hand.
Dressing up in these looks is a way to show wealth and status to earn the respect of other males in a male-dominated and -centered culture– that is until now.
This traditionally male, Mexican, cultural identity, is something that has never been embraced or accessible to women or gender non-conforming people. The giant belt buckles that are traditionally custom-made and specific to male identities like head of household, ‘only rooster in the chicken coop’ and lone wolf, are only part of the strictly cis-gendered male clothes that dominate the culture.
The embroidered button-ups, belt buckles and unique cowboy hats –all come together to create the masculine looks that are now being reclaimed by women and gender nonconforming people at the event curated by three queer, Mexican DJs, who once had a little idea that could.
Flores, 37, (she/her), Gemini, says that to her the term butchona describes a woman who is a little ‘chunti,’ a little cheap in the way she dresses– but in a queer way.
“That title also means that you’re a badass,” she said. “I want to look like that señor, I want to look like that dude and now I feel like I could, so why not?”
Flores says that now she feels like she can embrace and reclaim that cultural identity, but it wasn’t always that easy.
At first, her family upheld the traditional cisgender roles that forced her to dress more feminine, but she always wanted to dress like her cousins and her tíos.
“Now, I’m like: ‘Fuck that!’ I’m going to wear the chalecos and the Chalino suits,” she said in Span-glish.
The Chalino suits are traditional, Mexican, suits that were worn and popularized by Chalino Sanchez, known as the King of corridos—a genre of music that is said to have originated on the border region of Texas, Tamaulipas and Nuevo León, Mexico.
“It felt good to break into the DJ scene, but what I always noticed was that the lesbian culture was always lacking,” said DJ Lady Soul. “I would mainly see gay males at parties and a lot of male DJs.”
According to Zippia–a career site that sources their information from the U.S. Bureau of Labor and Statistics and the U.S. Census–23.5 percent of disc jockeys are women, 16 percent are LGBTQ+ and only 12.7 percent are Hispanic or Latin American.
What has always been a traditionally machista music genre and scene, is now being embraced by a growing number of queer women and non-male DJs in Los Angeles.
For Fran Fregoso, who goes by DJ French, 33, (they/she), Taurus– embracing their cultural identity came a lot easier because of their late uncle who sort of paved the way for them to come out as queer and be more accepted than he was as the first openly out queer person in their family.
(Photo by Adelyna Tirado)Dj French poses in their vaquero-style outfit.
Their music journey began listening to the 90s grunge, alternative, hip-hop and metal music played by their older siblings at home.
“Then I met Vanessa [DJ Killed By Synth], and she introduced me to the industry,” said DJ French.
DJ French felt the acceptance and support to enter this music space and decided to embrace their cultural roots by playing music that they grew up listening to at family parties. They booked their first gig with Cumbiatón LA, a collective of DJs and organizers who host Latin American parties across Los Angeles, often centering queer DJs and other performers.
“When [Lady Soul and Killed By Synth], brought this idea up to create Butchona, I was like: ‘Oh, I’m in 100 percent’,” they said. “Because I love playing corridos and banda music because that’s a core memory from my childhood and family parties.”
Banda, corridos, cumbias and other traditional music is a big part of Mexican culture, even as gendered and male-centered as it has been, it is embraced by all.
“I know a lot of people in our queer, Latino, community love that music too, but they also want to be in a safe space,” they said. “That’s where we decided to make an environment for our community to dance and be themselves.”
Vanessa Bueno, 40, (she/her), Libra, who goes by DJ Killed By Synth, says her journey started about 20 years ago when she started DJing for backyard parties in East L.A. and across L.A. County.
(Photo by Adelyna Tirado)DJ Killed By Synth playing her set.
Her family is from Guadalajara, so she says that growing up she also had a lot of family parties with corridos and banda blaring in the background of memories with the many cousins she says she lost count of.
“A lot of the music we heard was bachata, banda, cumbia and even some 80s freestyle,” said Bueno.
Even while she had a ‘little punk rocker phase,’ she says she couldn’t escape that Spanish music her family played ritualistically at family get-togethers.
When they began their music journey–back in the AOL, Instant Messenger days, they played a lot more electronic music, hence the name Killed by Synth. At first, it was just a username, but then it became her DJ name.
“Later down the line, comes [the idea for] Butchona came about, and me, Rocio and French collaborated,” she said. “It’s kind of always been my goal to create these safe spaces for women and queer people, and I had been in the scene long enough to where people were willing to answer my calls to work with them to make it happen.”
For Bueno, it was natural for her to build community and embrace this part of their culture later on in her career when she saw a need for queer, Latin American-centered club spaces with family party vibes.
She started hosting Latin American-style parties, blending music, culture, and food and attracting the exact audience she envisioned. With these events, Bueno aimed to reclaim her Mexican identity and foster a sense of family and community at these events.
“We’re here to build a safe space to embrace the music and kind of not think about the machismo that is tied to it and celebrate who we are,” said Bueno.
According to the U.S. Department of Labor and Statistics, California, Texas, New York, Arizona and Washington rank the highest in employment rates for disc jockeys in 2023. There is also a recent trend in more women DJs–the study does not include gender nonconforming DJs–booking twice as many gigs as men in event spaces and concerts that host DJ sets.
“It feels like we’re barely cracking into these safe spaces and expanding our horizons a little bit,” said DJ French. “I hope this inspires other people to also create safe spaces like Butchona.”
The next Butchona event will be on Sunday, Oct. 27 and will feature all three DJs playing corridos, banda, cumbia and all the classics, for a chunti Halloween party.
LOS ANGELES – Addressing a concerning escalation of threats against LGBTQ+ organizations throughout the country, leaders from TransLatin@ Coalition, the Los Angeles Police Department, and other officials gathered in a press conference to denounce acts of intimidation and to call for unity and protective measures for the trans and queer community.
A bomb threat called in to the LAPD on March 28, aimed at the TransLatin@ Coalition specifying today April 15 as the target date, has prompted an immediate and ongoing response from local authorities to ensure the safety of those at the coalition’s facilities and others. The LAPD has since been closely monitoring the site.
The suspect, identified as Henry Nolkemper, a white 61 year old male, was arrested by LAPD shortly afterward after being observed entering his residence on West 53rd Street. The police then searched his residence. Despite the absence of explosives, he was booked under serious charges including criminal threats with a hate crime enhancement.
Nolkemper, known to have a history of mental health issues, was on parole for previous threats to the community. His parole has since been revoked and he is currently held on a one million dollar bail.
The press conference today began with remarks from Robin Toma, Executive Director of LA vs Hate, who highlighted the organization’s role as the third largest source of hate crime reporting in Los Angeles, trailing only police sources.
He also stated that LA vs Hate has reported a troubling increase in trans-specific crimes, noting that such incidents are grossly underreported, a sentiment echoed by surveys within the trans community.
Robin Toma, Executive Director of LA vs Hate, Bamby Salcedo at the podium speaking, LAPD Assistant Chief Blake Chow, & Capri Maddox, Executive Director, City of LA Civil + Human Rights & Equity Dept. (Photo by Simha Haddad)
Bamby Salcedo, President and CEO of TLC, expressed her gratitude for the continued support from various partners and emphasized the daily challenges faced by transgender individuals. “Every day a trans woman steps out of her home, it is a revolutionary act. We are people who walk with targets on our backs,” Salcedo declared, setting a tone of resilience and defiance against the threats.
Special thanks were given to Supervisor Hilda Solis and Jury Candelario, a partner from APAIT and a Filipino immigrant, who marked 35 years in America by calling the trans-related stress “chronic” in his long tenure as a social worker. Esther Lim, representing Supervisor Solis, condemned the bomb threat as an act of “cowardice” and highlighted Solis’ support through a previous $55,000 contribution to TLC and a new motion to establish LA’s first LGBTQ+ commission.
Assistant Chief Blake Chow and Deputy Chief Ruby Flores of the LAPD provided updates on the legal actions following the threat. They noted a 13 percent increase in overall hate crimes, with LGBTQ+ specific hate crimes up by 33 percent. “Behind each hate crime, there is a victim, there are families,” Flores said, urging the community to report incidents and support anti-hate education initiatives. “These crimes affect people in ways statistics can’t reflect.”
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The press conference also featured voices from the community like Mariana Marroquin, Associate Director of Trans Wellness, who spoke passionately about the ingrained nature of hate experienced by trans individuals from a young age, and Cari Maddox, who emphatically stated, “Hate has no home in Los Angeles.”
Mark Bayard, representing Los Angeles County District Attorney George Gascon, affirmed the DA’s commitment to fighting hate crimes vigorously, especially in light of the upcoming election season, which often sees a spike in such incidents.
As the community grapples with this latest threat, the message from today’s conference was clear: solidarity, education, and legal protection are key to combating hate and fostering a society where transgender people can integrate fully and safely.
LOS ANGELES, CA – Today, the TransLatin@ Coalition commemorated a significant milestone as it marked the launch of its 15th Anniversary Campaign during a press conference held in Los Angeles. The event also served as a platform to unveil the organization’s 2023 Annual Report, shedding light on its journey, accomplishments, and ongoing commitments.
Led by Bamby Salcedo, President and CEO of the TransLatin@ Coalition, the press conference highlighted the perilous situations faced by transgender and Latinx individuals in their home countries, where they often confront insurmountable violence.
Salcedo emphasized the harsh reality that many flee to cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco seeking asylum, only to encounter further violence and danger, often leading to deportation and, tragically, sending them back to potential harm or death.
A poignant moment of the event was the unveiling of a new logo commemorating the organization’s 15th anniversary, aptly dubbed their “quinceañera.” This symbolizes not only a milestone but also a renewed commitment to advocacy and support for the TransLatin@ community.
In a groundbreaking announcement, Salcedo revealed plans for a $35 million state of the art multiservice and multipurpose space aimed at providing a safe and secure space for transgender and gender nonconforming individuals. With $20 million already secured, this initiative underscores the organization’s dedication to addressing the pressing needs of the community.
The TransLatin@ Coalition, founded in 2009 by a group of transgender and gender nonconforming immigrant women in Los Angeles, has evolved into a nationally recognized organization with a presence in 10 states across the U.S. It offers direct services to transgender, gender nonconforming, and intersex individuals in Los Angeles, with a focus on empowering and improving the quality of life for its members.
Since its inception, the organization has achieved numerous milestones, including the establishment of the Center for Violence Prevention and Transgender Wellness in 2015, the opening of the first-ever TransLatin@ office in 2016, and the launch of the #TransPolicyAgenda in 2019.
The TransLatin@ Coalition’s advocacy efforts have also extended to legislative triumphs, such as the passage of AB2218 in 2020, which allocates grant funding for transgender wellness and equity programs, and supporting bills like AB1163 and AB 1487, aimed at advancing transgender rights.
With the recent expansion to include the El Monte site and the opening of a new building on Sunset, the TransLatin@ Coalition continues to broaden its reach and impact, reaffirming its commitment to serving the community and creating inclusive spaces where history is made and celebrated.
“Beautiful and amazing people, who are trans, gender non-conforming, or intersex, please know that you are beautiful and amazing and that you are valued. Do not feel alone. There is a whole movement that is fighting for you. Continue to assert your presence within the tapestry of our society. We love you, we see you, we thank you,” Salcedo told the Blade.
As the organization looks ahead to the next 15 years and beyond, its mission to advocate for the specific needs of the TransLatin@ community remains steadfast, guided by values of altruism, respect, transparency, and collaboration.
LOS ANGELES, CA – Today, the TransLatin@ Coalition commemorated a significant milestone as it marked the launch of its 15th Anniversary Campaign during a press conference held in Los Angeles. The event also served as a platform to unveil the organization’s 2023 Annual Report, shedding light on its journey, accomplishments, and ongoing commitments.
Led by Bamby Salcedo, President and CEO of the TransLatin@ Coalition, the press conference highlighted the perilous situations faced by transgender and Latinx individuals in their home countries, where they often confront insurmountable violence.
Salcedo emphasized the harsh reality that many flee to cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco seeking asylum, only to encounter further violence and danger, often leading to deportation and, tragically, sending them back to potential harm or death.
A poignant moment of the event was the unveiling of a new logo commemorating the organization’s 15th anniversary, aptly dubbed their “quinceañera.” This symbolizes not only a milestone but also a renewed commitment to advocacy and support for the TransLatin@ community.
In a groundbreaking announcement, Salcedo revealed plans for a $35 million state of the art multiservice and multipurpose space aimed at providing a safe and secure space for transgender and gender nonconforming individuals. With $20 million already secured, this initiative underscores the organization’s dedication to addressing the pressing needs of the community.
The TransLatin@ Coalition, founded in 2009 by a group of transgender and gender nonconforming immigrant women in Los Angeles, has evolved into a nationally recognized organization with a presence in 10 states across the U.S. It offers direct services to transgender, gender nonconforming, and intersex individuals in Los Angeles, with a focus on empowering and improving the quality of life for its members.
Since its inception, the organization has achieved numerous milestones, including the establishment of the Center for Violence Prevention and Transgender Wellness in 2015, the opening of the first-ever TransLatin@ office in 2016, and the launch of the #TransPolicyAgenda in 2019.
The TransLatin@ Coalition’s advocacy efforts have also extended to legislative triumphs, such as the passage of AB2218 in 2020, which allocates grant funding for transgender wellness and equity programs, and supporting bills like AB1163 and AB 1487, aimed at advancing transgender rights.
With the recent expansion to include the El Monte site and the opening of a new building on Sunset, the TransLatin@ Coalition continues to broaden its reach and impact, reaffirming its commitment to serving the community and creating inclusive spaces where history is made and celebrated.
“Beautiful and amazing people, who are trans, gender non-conforming, or intersex, please know that you are beautiful and amazing and that you are valued. Do not feel alone. There is a whole movement that is fighting for you. Continue to assert your presence within the tapestry of our society. We love you, we see you, we thank you,” Salcedo told the Blade.
As the organization looks ahead to the next 15 years and beyond, its mission to advocate for the specific needs of the TransLatin@ community remains steadfast, guided by values of altruism, respect, transparency, and collaboration.
LOS ANGELES, CA – Today, the TransLatin@ Coalition commemorated a significant milestone as it marked the launch of its 15th Anniversary Campaign during a press conference held in Los Angeles. The event also served as a platform to unveil the organization’s 2023 Annual Report, shedding light on its journey, accomplishments, and ongoing commitments.
Led by Bamby Salcedo, President and CEO of the TransLatin@ Coalition, the press conference highlighted the perilous situations faced by transgender and Latinx individuals in their home countries, where they often confront insurmountable violence.
Salcedo emphasized the harsh reality that many flee to cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco seeking asylum, only to encounter further violence and danger, often leading to deportation and, tragically, sending them back to potential harm or death.
A poignant moment of the event was the unveiling of a new logo commemorating the organization’s 15th anniversary, aptly dubbed their “quinceañera.” This symbolizes not only a milestone but also a renewed commitment to advocacy and support for the TransLatin@ community.
In a groundbreaking announcement, Salcedo revealed plans for a $35 million housing project aimed at providing safe and secure housing for transgender and gender nonconforming individuals. With $20 million already secured, this initiative underscores the organization’s dedication to addressing the pressing needs of the community.
The TransLatin@ Coalition, founded in 2009 by a group of transgender and gender nonconforming immigrant women in Los Angeles, has evolved into a nationally recognized organization with a presence in 10 states across the U.S. It offers direct services to transgender, gender nonconforming, and intersex individuals in Los Angeles, with a focus on empowering and improving the quality of life for its members.
Since its inception, the organization has achieved numerous milestones, including the establishment of the Center for Violence Prevention and Transgender Wellness in 2015, the opening of the first-ever TransLatin@ office in 2016, and the launch of the #TransPolicyAgenda in 2019.
The TransLatin@ Coalition’s advocacy efforts have also extended to legislative triumphs, such as the passage of AB2218 in 2020, which allocates grant funding for transgender wellness and equity programs, and supporting bills like AB1163 and AB 1487, aimed at advancing transgender rights.
With the recent expansion to include the El Monte site and the opening of a new building on Sunset, the TransLatin@ Coalition continues to broaden its reach and impact, reaffirming its commitment to serving the community and creating inclusive spaces where history is made and celebrated.
“Beautiful and amazing people, who are trans, gender non-conforming, or intersex, please know that you are beautiful and amazing and that you are valued. Do not feel alone. There is a whole movement that is fighting for you. Continue to assert your presence within the tapestry of our society. We love you, we see you, we thank you,” Salcedo told the Blade.
As the organization looks ahead to the next 15 years and beyond, its mission to advocate for the specific needs of the TransLatin@ community remains steadfast, guided by values of altruism, respect, transparency, and collaboration.
