October 8, 2022 is National Depression Screening Day, a day that encourages individuals to screen for mental health issues and be aware of conditions that may be affecting them.
This is important for everyone to participate in, especially for members of the LGBTQ+ community and trans* individuals who face these challenges at higher rates than the general population (See: “The Stigma of Seeking Help”).
It’s important to address these issues as soon as possible once they arise. On a personal note, I began suffering from depression early in my childhood, but I went undiagnosed until I was 16. I felt it becoming harder and harder to control, and by the time I got treatment, it was more difficult to correct my unhealthy way of thinking as I was combating years of unhelpful habits that had built up.
Studies have shown that the chance of full remission from depression decreases the longer the illness goes untreated. There is always hope for remission, and you can take control of that hope today by getting screened.
Because of the stigma surrounding mental health issues, it’s difficult to admit you need help, and you can’t always rely on other people to notice the signs for you. That’s why it’s important to seek treatment and get screened to monitor your health.
We have yearly physical exams, so please consider this your yearly mental exam. Take a screening here or consult a healthcare professional to take care of yourself sooner rather than later. You have so much value and there are people equipped to help you. This is the first step in accessing this support.
I came out in 2020. And by that, I mean I came out for the first time in 2020. I say “for the first time” because coming out is a process, an ongoing conversation, not a finite moment in time.
Every time I meet a new person or begin forming a relationship with someone, I come out. This looks different with certain people, and sometimes it’s as simple as someone noticing that my necklace has a carabiner on it. Other times I have to be more explicit about it. Sometimes I’m explicit about it while wearing my carabiner necklace, Doc Martens, cuffed Levi’s, and a thrifted men’s shirt, but it still doesn’t seem to register.
It’s not that I go up to every stranger and announce that I’m gay; I just don’t hide that part of my identity in conversation and would rather people know that about me sooner before it turns into a big coming out discussion. Because the thing is, no matter how many carabiners and crystals I accessorize with, most people are going to assume I’m straight until I say otherwise. I feel a closet being built around me. Mentioning going to Pride or joking about the straight guys who show up on lesbian Hinge lets me break that closet down before the walls get reinforced.
There have been times, though, (especially at the beginning of my journey) where I considered allowing this closet to be built up again. When restaurants reopened, my first girlfriend and I walked hand-in-hand downtown for a night out. It’s not that we got bad looks that I noticed, but there were definitely lingering gazes or second glances as we walked past. I remember worrying that we might pass the wrong person in the wrong headspace.
The solution to this particular problem could have been just not holding hands in public, but if I was straight, this thought never would have crossed my mind. I’m an affectionate person who just wanted to hold my girlfriend’s hand on our first big night out, and I didn’t want to take away something so simple but that meant so much to me simply out of fear for how others would react.
Recent anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and social patterns have stirred up these questions for me once again. I love who I’ve allowed myself to be since first coming out, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider a future where I would have to give up some of these freedoms.
I want to make this clear: I’m privileged. I’m a white, femme lesbian from an upper-middle class family. I could ditch the carabiners, Docs, and sense of humor, be miserable in a relationship with a man, and Gilead would be none-the-wiser. I wouldn’t suffer with gender dysphoria because of this or feel like I need to suppress huge parts of who I am. Walking down the street, I’m not risking as much as a trans* person would be – especially a BIPOC trans* person. But I feel at risk nonetheless.
I also feel, however, the lingering pain that came with suppressing this part of me for 20 years. I was raised in a conservative area and was brought up in the Catholic Church. Unlike my other queer friends from elementary school, I did know that queer people existed but I didn’t feel that I could be queer. So I kept my feelings bottled up, I convinced myself I wanted to have straight hair and wear muted colors like everyone else, and I felt confused and broken every time I realized something about me was different.
I refuse to go back in the closet, and I refuse to stand by while a closet is built around me. I could live my life differently and perhaps be accepted more readily by society, but that would mean never fully accepting myself. There’s no shame in staying in the closet until you feel ready and comfortable, but when you do just know there’s a community of people here for you who will accept the parts of you that you had to accept about yourself. Don’t let yourself feel pressured or bullied into giving that up.
Smiling as he looked into the camera, head slightly tilted in thought, Dr. Jeff Day, an assistant clinical professor at New York University Rory Meyers College of Nursing, said, “I went to San Francisco. I remember very clearly walking down the street and seeing a trans woman ahead of me, and I remember thinking,
that’s the next frontier.”
He was discussing his upcoming course at NYU — a series of lectures focused on LGBTQ health — and we had begun to chat about his inspiration and why he felt the course was important. The course dives into the deeper waters of queer health, focusing not only on the “big picture” but on individual communities and issues. The conversation was filled with moments like these; moments in which we could truly see the engagement and care Dr. Day had for the subject he would begin to teach this upcoming semester.
Dr. Day is a nurse practitioner with the Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery at New York Eye and Ear Infirmary of Mount Sinai, board-certified by the American Nurses Credentialing Center as an adult-gerontology primary care nurse practitioner and certified by the National League for Nursing as an academic clinical nurse educator, and is an active member and chair-elect of the Nursing Section of the Gay and Lesbian Medical Association, dedicated to ensuring equality for LGBTQ individuals and healthcare professionals. Dr. Day’s current pursuit is a course at NYU focused on LGBTQ+ health. This course has one clear goal — to educate the next generation of healthcare professionals and to “take care of LGBT individuals.”
Interestingly enough, the course came to fruition both out of Dr. Day’s belief that the topic went under-teached and out of the request of students. It wasn’t simply one or two students who would come to Dr. Day about feeling underprepared for helping queer patients; several students came to him with questions on queer health and a interest in learning much more than he was able to share in the moment.
“I identify as gay, and I have had my fair share of poor treatment in healthcare… I had a friend who was trans and had an abysmal treatment in healthcare and ended up taking her own life,” Dr. Day told us, somber, and then added, “I needed something that was my own.” That opportunity came in the form of this course: the issue was clearly prevalent and on the minds of students, and Dr. Day knew he had to step in.
The course, which begins this upcoming fall semester, caters to students with little to no experience in LGBTQ+ healthcare, although those already informed on the topic are also able to participate. Curriculum is divided into week-long chunks, with, for example, one week dedicated to HIV/AIDs care and chronic conditions, one week dedicated to intersex care, and two weeks dedicated to general transgender care. Although Dr. Day created the course for those already interested in LGBTQ+ healthcare, he shared with us his ultimate hope for the future of education: “Ideally, LGBTQ+ content would be weaved into curriculum… Ideally, we would make space in each of those classes, such as Pharmacology or those medical-surgical courses, dedicated to LGBTQ care,” and while he “felt it was important to open up an elective for those who have a passion for it,” he believes that expanding LGBTQ+ care to be part of general study is important.
When asked why he thinks LGBTQ+ healthcare hasn’t become a general topic found in all courses yet, Dr. Day, with a sigh, shared he believes it is because professors lack understanding of queer health. In fact, a study conducted in 2011 concluded some disappointing facts: many medical students only received, at the time, around five total hours of education relating to queer health — and many of these rising physicians felt as if they were inadequately trained for working with queer patients. Although this study concluded a decade ago, these numbers have hardly changed. Many students still feel uncomfortable working with queer, especially transgender and intersex, patients, with many reporting that they feel as though they are uninformed on the subject of transgender/intersex care, according to this 2017 study.
Ideally, LGBTQ+ content would be weaved into curriculum.
The amount of students who came to Dr. Day asking for more clarity on LGBTQ+ health only proves this lack of education.
How can medical schools improve? According to Dr. Day, “We need trans, gender nonbinary, gender nonconforming, gay, bisexual, we need all of this literature provided to students before they get to the classroom. It will make students more sensitive that way. In a way, they’ll understand what they’re getting into… I also think we need to tackle it from a faculty perspective. We need better training.” The problem goes beyond what students are being taught now; the issue began decades ago. If professors received improper training in their education and proceeded to avoid queer healthcare, never properly learning themselves, how could they teach the next generation any better?
Still, it’s no excuse, and Dr. Day agrees. Professors have a duty to not only their students, but to their students’ future patients. Even the smallest changes, such as introducing oneself with one’s identities present and explaining that one has a different viewpoint and experience than those one is working with, can go a long way. As we continued to chat, Dr. Day offered advice for professors struggling with feeling inadequate, or as if they might make their students uncomfortable, explaining that in his course, “My ultimate goal is to bring in some guest speakers. I frame my lectures by saying, ‘I am not a person of trans experience,’ ‘I am not a person of color experience.’” These disclaimers mixed with the real-world experience of those impacted directly can do quite a bit for students who might, in many ways, also feel as though they could never understand queer health or would always be walking on eggshells with queer patients.
I frame my lectures by saying, ‘I am not a person of trans experience,’ ‘I am not a person of color experience.’
Disclaimers can encourage acceptance and growth, according to Dr. Day.
This ability to recognize one’s identities and experiences contrasted with the identities and experiences of others allows one to accept their own drawbacks, and even accept their own possible failures. That acceptance is an early step in moving forward. Optimistically, Dr. Day added, “I do anecdotally hear that there is some improvement in nursing schools… I am getting word that it seems to be helping. I do hope to one day have students come back and tell me about their experiences.”
This care is not only rewarding to the patient, but to the physician as well. “I had a patient who tied balloons to their bed, because they had gotten gender affirmation surgery and was celebrating their first birthday, and you hear me get choked up about that now… There’s something super special about working in that area,” Dr. Day shared with us, his excitement obvious.
It’s clear: there’s nothing Dr. Day wants more than to bring these experiences to both his students and their future patients who might otherwise never receive such care. The Rory Meyers College, where Dr. Day is leading this course, works with future nurses, a field in which the relationship between oneself and the patient is of utmost importance. The impact of a nurse on a patient can influence a variety of things, including, but not limited to, the patient’s decision to receive treatment, the patient’s comfort with said treatment, and the patient’s willingness to continue to seek the aforementioned treatment.
To see a patient thrive under one’s treatment — that is what inclusivity is for. Dr. Day shared with us an experience he had working with a transgender patient who had received surgery to raise her voice, and it is impossible to say that she did not thrive. “(T)he sheer joy she experienced coming in and preparing for this was just infectious,” he said, “We talked about her past surgeries… I just see people sail as a result of these procedures that I don’t often see in other individuals.”
Hundreds of patients await experiences such as these, but due to a lack of education and a lack of access catered to queer patients, many are unable to proceed with the care they deserve. That is also part of why Dr. Day is so adamant about his course, and courses like it: they are not simply taught for fun, but for the betterment of millions of people.
In 2011, Kim Malek and her cousin, Tyler Malek, founded the ice cream company Salt & Straw to create a community gathering place where people can treat themselves and experience “moments of wonder” together.
As such, the company embraces people from every walk of life. Each store window displays a sign that states, “We Welcome All,” and they take steps to make each person who walks through the door feel comfortable being their authentic self.
Cofounder and CEO Kim Malek spoke with Cloud Dancers about her views on the role of business in the pursuit of social responsibility and the steps she has taken to make her workplace better for all, especially those who identify as trans*.
Malek’s kind nature and excitement over having these meaningful conversations are immediately apparent even in the age of video conference interviews. “Yay! We did it!” she exclaimed when we entered the meeting. Immediately I was put at ease, glad to know she was as eager to do this interview as I was.
Collaborating with other organizations or foundations like ours is nothing new to Malek, as she believes in working together to bring about social change. Malek grew up wanting to go into politics, but instead went into business when she realized the advocacy that was possible in the private sector.
She observes, “Business has to be at the table and part of those conversations. The government can’t do it all on its own. Nonprofits and governmental agencies can’t do it all on their own. All three have to come together to make change.” She continues, “It’s good business to be investing in the right ways. Not only is it the right thing to do for society, but it’s actually just good for your business.”
“It’s good business to be investing in the right ways. Not only is it the right thing to do for society, but it’s actually just good for your business.”
When reflecting on this idea of social responsibility, Malek says it goes beyond writing a check. “To me, it’s looking into the core of your business and how you do business, breaking apart each of those components to figure out how you can use your business to make a difference in the world.”
She gives examples (and there are a lot) of Salt & Straw’s business practices that work toward this goal. “For instance, we buy a lot of ingredients,” she says. “The cost of entry today is that you would buy organic ingredients that don’t harm the environment. You would expect us to do that.”
Social responsibility, though, goes beyond meeting basic expectations. “Let’s go to a deeper level and ask, ‘can we buy from mostly minority or women-owned businesses so we can use our purchasing power to help a first-generation farmer in the Bay Area where we’re her largest customer? And then can we use our marketing power to promote her and make her known?’” The question, Malek continues is, “‘How can you take what you’re doing every day and use that to invest in the community in a unique way?’”
Kim and Tyler Malek work together to dream up unique flavors which benefit the community.
With over one thousand employees, Malek says hiring is a huge opportunity to make business more equitable and safe for all. “We ask ourselves, can we use that to offer first jobs to people and train them in unique ways? Can we use our hiring to offer jobs to people who are reentering the workforce? How can we format our training program so that we’re known as a company that, if you used to work there you have these incredible skills? And maybe we even hold job fairs with different industries at the end of the summer to say, ‘We have this incredible talent pool that we’ve just trained – hire them!’ It’s radical that you would do that because you want to hold onto your people (and we do, by the way), but at the same time, could we be a launching pad for employment in other places?”
“And while you’re here, look at our benefits!” she exclaims. “Since Day One, we’ve offered benefits for people who are transitioning and just making sure that, if we get complaints, we hold everyone accountable and we have a culture where that’s not swept under the rug. We investigate and take care of issues. We’re not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but we’re on a journey to take the right next step each time.”
“Since Day One, we’ve offered benefits for people who are transitioning”
Supporting trans* individuals has been a “no brainer” since founding the company. Salt & Straw set up its benefits program in 2011, and Malek states, “Maybe it was a little newer to offer that benefit back then, but it was available, so it was like ‘of course we’re going to do that!’”
Beyond this financial assistance, she notes, “I think the challenge we’ve had over the years is making sure that we as a company are prepared and educated to support people who are transitioning. It’s one thing to give that benefit, but how does the company provide the right support? There’s a lot going on in your life when that’s happening, so what accommodations can we make more broadly so that you can be successful as you transition?”
The transgender community cites safety as its number one concern in the workplace (McKinsey), and these best practices along with Salt & Straw’s zero tolerance policy for any sort of safety concerns seek to mitigate this fear. Malek states, “We educate people about that on day one. Whether it’s from customers or coworkers or members of the community.”
Again, looking into the core of her business, Malek reflects, “We’ve done that successfully and I think sometimes we haven’t. Probably our biggest area of opportunity is to continue to make sure that it feels like a safe, supportive place as someone’s going through that.”
Malek’s response to this is training, focusing on the management, and ensuring that each level of the business reflects these values. She raises the question, “If you’re a manager at a Salt & Straw and you have a team member who’s transitioning, how do you talk to them or the rest of the team and explain what’s going on in a way that’s supportive? And even how do you handle customer conversations? Because that can be hard too!”
Malek continues to work directly with guests, even in her role as CEO.
She stresses the importance of having training around this and communicating a plan for employees should these situations take place. “You need to have a plan of what to do because otherwise, you don’t know what to do in the moment. You need to talk about it with your coworkers, with your manager, and then when it hits you, you’re like ‘oh yeah, I know what to do!’ Otherwise, in the moment it’s too hard to navigate.”
“I honestly believe that there are a good number of organizations out there that would advocate for their team members,” she continues, “I just honestly don’t know if they’re thinking about it. So we need to talk about it and get best practices out there. Because there’s no environment where someone working in the hospitality industry should be made to feel like they have to endure that kind of thing. And it’s serious. And it happens.”
“There’s no environment where someone working in the hospitality industry should be made to feel like they have to endure that”
Society as a whole might be slow to catch up, but Malek cites this as a reason to take swift action where necessary. “If there’s any whisper of a concern, then the management team will be willing to face that, get involved, and take action,” Malek says.
She adds, “This is really hard to do, and you hear companies all the time saying they don’t want to go through that. But you have to. Every single time. Every time.”
Malek says advocacy doesn’t stop at her business. Rather, her business is a form of advocacy. Salt & Straw has a number of exciting new programs and partnerships in the works, so stay posted and treat yourself to some ice cream – we all deserve to have moments of wonder.
On March 3rd, 2022, HBO Max released Our Flag Means Death, a romantic “swashbuckler” action-comedy written by David Jenkins. The series is based on real-life pirates — with some pretty major alterations — and revolves around the sometimes comedic, sometimes dramatic, and all the time queer relationship between Stede Bonnet (played by Rhys Darby), a wealthy noble turned pirate-wannabe, and Edward Teach (played by Taika Waititi), also known as Blackbeard. The series overtook Book of Boba Fett as the United States Most In-Demand Show after Book’s three-month spot at #1, and then continued to defeat Moon Knight for weeks after Our Flag’s final episode was released. It also received a 90% critic rating and a 95% audience rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Most importantly, it has been declared by thousands of fans to be one of the best LGBT shows to date.
Our Flag Means Death is a breath of fresh air in the romantic comedy genre. Most memorably, fans have noted that, unlike other shows, Our Flag prevents itself from falling prey to queerbaiting: it is obvious from the beginning which romantic relationships will be set up (specifically between Stede and Edward), and, by the end of the season, watchers are left knowing that the queerness they had picked up on is confirmed after a kiss between the two characters. In fact, the final point of the show is a confirmation of anti-queerbaiting itself: we see Stede Bonnet, after talking to his ex-wife about his feelings for Edward, board a small dinghy in search of his lover.
The choice of closing out the season with an event so obviously queer is not only revolutionary for popular television but also highly dangerous. Our Flag was recently renewed for a second season — after months of silence from HBO Max while also renewing much smaller, less popular shows, a choice that many claim to be intentional. The silence from HBO Max in regards to advertising during and prior to the show’s release also has been noted as possibly intentional. It is not unlikely that HBO Max purposefully remained silent on the renewal until Pride Month, during which an announcement of renewal would bring forth increased funds to HBO Max. The phenomenon of queer media (and general products) being promoted and funded during Pride Month more than any other time of year has been entitled “rainbow capitalism.” An article on the queer site LGBTQ and All describes the phenomenon quite well:
Rainbow capitalism, aka pink capitalism, is the action of companies claiming to support LGBTQ+ causes and communities, but are actually making merchandise for-profit and capitalize on the trend. In other words, it centers on corporate interests and profit. (“What is Rainbow Capitalism and why is it Harmful?”)
If you’re interested in reading more about this phenomenon, check out our article “Rainbow Capitalism and Pride Month,” posted on May 24th by Megan Serceki.
The show’s premise, as it were, goes much further than simply being queer.
As previously mentioned, Our Flag takes inspiration from the histories of real-life people and changes it to include characters of color, such as Taika Waititi’s Blackbeard, a Maori man, or Samson Kayo’s Oluwande, a black man. It also adds queer characters, with openly gay relationships such as that between Nathan Foad’s Lucius and Matthew Maher’s Black Pete and the growing relationship between Blackbeard and Stede, the main couple of the show. Even transgender characters, such as Vico Ortiz’s non-binary Jim Jimenez, take a starring role in the series.
Vico Ortiz is a non-binary Latine actor. Jim has been their first major role in television, and, to many fans, Jim has also served as the first major non-binary representation in television or film — especially as one of the main characters.
Not only that, but Ortiz’s role plays even more importance as Jim’s relationship with Oluwande progresses through the series. It is few and far between that shows adapt queer, trans relationships; much rarer is it for these relationships to be between people of color and for them to ignore all typical gender stereotypes. In one episode of the show, Jim is seen as the ‘big spoon’ in bed with Oluwande, holding him rather than him holding them — a reversal of what would be expected if Jim were to have their non-binary identity ignored or tossed aside for the gender roles of “man” and “woman.”
Ortiz embraces the effect the role has had on them and the show’s fans. In fact, Ortiz revealed in an interview with Out that one of the many influences the show has had on their journey with their transgender identity, top surgery,* saying: “I’ll thank you internet for giving me this beautiful gift… I can get that surgery and show my scars,” referring to showing their scars from top surgery on the character of Jim.
* the medical procedure to flatten the chest often done on AFAB transgender people to relieve dysphoria or provide a closer connection to their gender identity.
Despite popular belief, however, gender exploration throughout the past was not unheard of — especially during the time of Our Flag’s setting.
It would be foolish to apply 21st-century labels to people who lived in the 17th and 18th centuries, the golden age of piracy. Labels and their meanings change; we never see Jim in Our Flag call themself “non-binary” or any of our modern labels — their gender simply is. Much the same, pirates of the 1600s and 1700s often simply “were.” One well-known example, pirate Mary Read, lived as Mark Read repeatedly throughout their life (I use ‘their’ here as a way to respect what their identity may have been, not to say that they specifically used they/them pronouns themself). This journey did not begin in piracy; Mary, or Mark, actually began presenting as a man during two terms in the British military.
Although few pirates were noted as being non-male or “females presenting as male,” it is highly possible that many more followed both before and after Read; much history of the period has been lost. Still, Read’s experience is not singular.
In the late 1700s, Romaine-la-Prophétesse, a freed Black person, led a small role in the Haitian Revolution. Raised a male, Romaine grew, and, later in life, began to identify as a Prophétesse. Romaine is said to have claimed the “female spirit” and began to wear women’s clothes; however, he continued to use male pronouns in writing and would consider himself the “Godson of the Virgin Mary.” Much the same, Romaine had indicated in letters that he purposefully took the title of “Prophetess” for himself — it is unlikely that this was in error, as Romaine was literate and understood his own writings.
Throughout the mid to late 1800s, a man named Joseph Lobdell, born in New York, fled from state to state in an attempt to keep his identity as a man respected. He took on a wife, Marie Louise Perry, who helped him escape arrest on account of “impersonating a man.” In October of 1880, Joseph was admitted to a psychiatric hospital where he was considered a “case of sexual perversion.” Still, he maintained his identity as a man up through his death in an asylum in 1912. Joseph’s life, a dark reminder of how transgender people were treated throughout the 19th century, has been documented by his descendant Bambi Lobdell.
Lobdell was not alone. Roughly four-hundred people assigned female at birth are documented to have identified as men in order to fight in the Civil War, many maintaining that identity through death. Albert Cashier, one such example, joined the Union Army in 1862 and, after the war, continued to live as Albert. Much like Lobdell, Cashier was put into an asylum in 1913 due to an onset of dementia, where he was forced to wear a dress and be titled his birth name. Nevertheless, Cashier held many supporters in former soldiers and friends, and, upon his death in 1915, was buried with a tombstone engraved with Albert Cashier and his military service.
Much of this history goes unspoken. Our Flag Means Death does more than most to push for the representation that we as a community deserve — and it does so respectfully, encouraging watchers to engage with the history that it makes a comedy of.
In the late fall of 1883, a series of articles around the United States were published regarding a man by the name of Frank Dubois.
There was nothing particularly startling or unique about Dubois upon first glance; that is, as he said himself, he “wore pants… smoke(d)… and earn(ed) [his] living as a man.” He was cheerfully married to Gertrude Fuller, who by all accounts declared her love for Frank and the happiness she had in their marriage, the two of them having been wed not long after meeting one another in the spring. He attended balls and events with Gertrude — who he called “Gertie” — and, by working as an artist, was able to provide a comfortable income for her.
What was it that made Frank so important, then, as to have so many articles written about his endeavors? If he was not some elite businessman, thief, or celebrity, then who was he?
Dubois was what many articles described as a “female husband:” a man who had once been known as a woman and who had now taken a wife. The derogatory title was initially popularized by Henry Fielding in his 1746 book of the same name, and quickly became one of the most popular phrases to find in articles of the time; society was enthralled with the idea of what would now be considered transgender — or, in some cases, genderneutral — people, with stories such as that of Charles Hamilton in Fielding’s novel and, in this case, Frank Dubois, blowing up in popularity.
Who was Frank? He had been born as Delia Derthick, and, at 18, had married S. J. Hudson, a man twenty-three years his senior. While married to Hudson, Dubois had been known to wear men’s clothing and to have his clothes fitted to appear masculine, a behavior which, while Hudson found odd, went unquestioned. After thirteen years of marriage and the birth of two children, Derthick seemingly disappeared from the Hudson family home in Illinois; it was then that, in exchange, Frank Dubois appeared in Wisconsin.
Whilst living as Dubois, Frank asserted repeatedly that he was a man and that he would, as phrased in the article History of the Woman Claiming to be a Man and Marrying Another Woman published by the Benton Weekly Record on November 10th, 1883, “not going to keep house for that old man” (meaning Hudson) “any longer, and that [he] would marry a girl.”
For eight months, Gertrude and Frank had been married and living together as painters and lovers, and when Hudson appeared at their home in Waupun, Wisconsin, it seemed impossible that Dubois had once been Hudson’s spouse. Dubois had started quite the life in Wisconsin, and even his and Gertrude’s “most intimate friends” thought of them as a “quiet, happy honeymoon.”
When questioned after Hudson’s confrontation, Dubois continued to assert his masculinity, stating, “I am [a man]— [and] as long as my wife is satisfied it is nobody’s business.” And his wife was indeed satisfied; even past the “reveal” of Dubois’ birth sex, Gertrude also continued to proclaim Frank as a man, accepting of his transition and loving of him nonetheless. The couple eventually shared that Gertrude had been aware of Frank’s transition since the night of their marriage (if not earlier) and that she continued to see him as a man regardless of his birth gender.
Even further, Dubois said very plainly, “I will not return to live with my husband.”
Frank’s story was not singular. In fact, there were many men throughout the 1800s who had also been called “female husbands,” transgender men and non-binary people who had been brave enough to live as who they were. In some cases, these husbands were forced from their homes and relationships in order to return to the life of a woman which they had found uncomfortable. In others, they were arrested, jailed, and, in some cases, treated violently or even executed. It was rare that such men were left to be the men that they proudly were.
Transgender history is often viewed as singular, transgenderism something new and modern. This is simply not true, and men such as Frank Dubois and other “female husbands” show this clearly. Frank’s story is important and so are the stories of those who faced similar struggles in their identity and the acceptance thereof.
Legislative measures across the United States have sought to limit LGBTQ+ visibility, and now states like Florida, Texas, and Arizona are considering banning kids from being present at drag shows.
Drag, above all else, is an art form. It calls into question society’s preconceived notions about gender and sexual orientation, highlighting the fluidity of it and showing its socially-constructed nature. Anyone can participate in drag regardless of their sex assigned at birth, their sexual orientation, the way they identify. It’s simply about challenging heteronormativity and breaking the boundaries of what society might consider “normal.”
While yes, you might not want to take your child to a Trixie Mattel show after she’s talked about her dislike for kids her entire career, many drag queens use their art to uplift LGBTQ+ youth and to encourage kids to be their authentic selves no matter who others tell them they should be. Banning children from these outlets would prevent them from conveying this important message.
The bans proposed, too, are very vague and wouldn’t just restrict them from spaces intended mostly for queer adults. Rather, it would likely include things like Drag Queen Story Hour which “captures the imagination and play of the gender fluidity of childhood and gives kids glamorous, positive, and unabashedly queer role models.”
Threatening to remove these safe spaces and experiences for children simply accentuates the fear, misunderstanding, and prejudice these legislatures hold towards the LGBTQ+ community. Some people just can’t comprehend or empathize with the feeling that you don’t quite fit into the box society stuffed you in, and we as humans tend to act out of fear when confronted with something we don’t understand.
While the LGBTQ+ community has made great strides in the past years and more individuals have felt comfortable being out and proud, resistance to these freedoms has also increased. The attention now largely falls on the upcoming generation – some striving to create a more accepting future and others trying to maintain the status quo and squash a kind of independence that scares them.
Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” Bill and other states’ legislative limits to trans* childrens’ access to care demonstrates this growing pushback and the attempts to hide the possibility of a more inclusive future which we have been fighting so hard for. This ban on childrens’ exposure to drag is yet another attempt to do so. While proponents of this legislation claim they are meant to “protect” children, they do little more than create an atmosphere of shame and isolation for the kids who might have found peers, environments, and forms of expression which allow them to be their authentic selves.
Gender is socially constructed. Heterosexuality is not the only orientation. Many of today’s children will grow up and find themselves not fitting into these boxes. They will grapple with being queer, with not abiding by heteronormativity. Preventing them from going to drag shows won’t change this. It will simply remove a space and an art form that might help them come to terms with their unique identity earlier.
It’s almost June which means that rainbows appear seemingly out of nowhere in shop windows, targeted ads, and (if previous Pride months are any indication) even on mouthwash?
This is all part of what we now recognize as rainbow capitalism — corporate shows of support for the LGBTQ+ community as a way to bolster their consumer market. Many people have a love-hate relationship with Pride collections, and we’re not telling you not to drop $20 on that rainbow fanny pack, we’re just trying to help you understand what pride truly is and what support for LGBTQ+ individuals genuinely looks like.
Why do we celebrate Pride?
In the United States, most Pride month activities take place in June in memory of the 1969 Stonewall Riots. After years of oppression, the Gay Liberation Movement was gaining momentum by the late 1960’s, but a violent police raid of the Stonewall Inn solidified the gay community’s drive towards political activism.
Nobody was killed during the six-night riot, but plenty of queer activists throughout history have lost their lives and their livelihoods due to unjust and inhumane laws. The simple fact that we can have Pride parades is testament to the sacrifices they have made to give us the freedoms we experience today — even if there is still a long way to go.
What does this have to do with corporations?
Honestly? Not much. Because this is America and we live in a capitalist society, Pride has been picked up by many corporations in their marketing campaigns and products, becoming increasingly commercialized in recent years.
Visibility is undeniably important, and sometimes something like rainbow shoelaces or a “Love is Love” shirt can help signal to people that you are a safe person to be themselves around. This is not the issue with these Pride collections. Where we run into trouble is when rainbow capitalism uses these symbols superficially to support the public image of their brand while engaging in other activities which harm the LGBTQ+ community.
How can we be consumers of rainbow capitalism?
Some of the most important things in scoping out this year’s pride gear are just being aware of where the products came from, who designed them, and what kinds of things the corporations support.
Ideally, buy from queer-owned businesses. A quick Google search will come up with queer-owned businesses to get you started, and other artists advertise their works through social media and sell on sites like Etsy for small independent artists. Pride is about uplifting members of the LGBTQ+ community, so do your best to support them and their mission.
Larger corporations have shown increased sensitivity to the importance of Pride by partnering with queer artists to create their collections. By doing this, large businesses are giving LGBTQ+ individuals the opportunity to showcase their work and are curating products that actually feel genuine and relatable to them, rather than just slapping a giant rainbow onto a shirt and calling it a day.
Actions speak louder than words. So, no matter how many times that shirt has “PRIDE” printed on it and no matter how large and colorful the font is, it doesn’t mean that the company selling it truly supports LGBTQ+ rights. Many companies participate in this virtue signaling but have actively supported anti-LGBTQ+ candidates. Before buying from any brand, do a little bit of research. Ask yourself where their profits are going and if you want part of your money going there, too. Consumers have power in this regard. Use it wisely.
With all this being said, go take a look at some queer-owned businesses, get yourself that fanny pack, and get ready to celebrate Pride and the people who got us here!
On May 2, 2022, Americans were shocked by a leaked Supreme Court draft document which stands to overturn the 1973 Supreme Court ruling known as Roe v. Wade. This case is important because it gives women autonomy over their bodies when it comes to abortion. But beyond this obvious protection, the 1973 decision set a precedent for other communities, including LGBTQ+ and trans* individuals.
Roe v. Wade was decided on the basis of protecting people’s right to privacy under the Fourteenth Amendment. The drafted court decision on Dobbs v. Jackson acknowledges that this amendment protects some rights not explicitly mentioned in the Constitution but states that abortion access does not fall under these protections as it is not seen as “‘deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition.’”
This raises questions, then, of what rights are in fact protected by the Fourteenth Amendment. Abortion access has a documented place in American society and has been protected for the majority of our nation’s history, so if it’s not considered a part of American history, what does this mean for LGBTQ+ individuals who have constantly been pushed into hiding and who have few and very recent protections for their civil rights?
Abortion access arguably does play a substantial role in U.S. history. Until the mid-1800s, medical literature and newspapers regularly advertised different abortion-inducing methods, which could mean that at the time the Constitution was ratified, abortion access was widely accepted and even supported.
Abortion bans at the time were only truly imposed on Black women by slave owners, and after the Civil War the Fourteenth Amendment was passed as a way to protect their rights. However, at the same time, some people began pushing for abortion bans across the board in an attempt to maintain their control and privilege. A nationwide ban only went into effect in 1910 — a full 122 years after the Constitution was ratified.
The reasoning for the Dobbs v. Jackson decision is incredibly concerning for other individuals who have been made to stay hidden for the entirety of our history. LGBTQ+ individuals have always been here. Trans* people have always existed. But they’ve been pressured to hide their true selves and have faced persecution if they did not.
Even during the Gay Liberation Movement, trans* individuals were largely excluded. Many gay rights groups wanted to be seen as normal and conforming to heteronormative society in all ways besides their sexual orientation, and trans* people didn’t fit this image.
When initial LGBTQ+ protections were passed, they focused mostly on the basis of sexual orientation and not on gender identity, leaving trans* people still more vulnerable and causing them to stay hidden.
The Fourteenth Amendment was also the justification for the Obergefell v. Hodges decision which affirmed same-sex couples’ right to marry nationwide. When the opinion was delivered and passed in a 5-4 vote, several judges wrote dissents claiming that the Fourteenth Amendment was not applicable to the case of same-sex marriage — nearly the same argument now being used to overturn Roe v. Wade.
The courts are meant to prevent unconstitutional legislation from being put into effect, and these decisions are made based on existing laws and legal precedents set by previous cases. If the Supreme Court reverses decisions establishing civil rights under the Fourteenth Amendment, this safeguard could be all but lost and many of these bills may come into law.
The draft opinion on Dobbs v. Jackson is not yet official, and there is time to speak up. This is a decision not only affecting people with the ability to get pregnant, it’s a decision which could undo and reverse the progress of recent decades and leave people more vulnerable than ever.
Trans* people have been forced to live in the shadows for far too long and should not be denied their civil rights and human rights because of others’ ignorance. Now is the time to act, to advocate for all those marginalized, and to demand that each and every person is granted their rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Controversy over a “safe space” decal in a Texas classroom has brought to light the extent to which the censorship of LGBTQ+ topics is affecting the educational system — obscuring messages of acceptance and security
Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” Bill has drawn attention to attempts to censor LGBTQ+ visibility in schools, but as we fight against it criticism seems only to get harsher. While these laws have been around for years, over 20 states are now trying to pass new ones.
Amidst this, in September, MacArthur High School in Irving, Texas suspended educator Rachelle Stonecipher, pending dismissal, for displaying a “Safe Space” sticker on her door. Soon after, the administration began forcibly removing these stickers from other classroom doors.
Students staged a walkout protesting the act, pointing out that designating safe spaces is not a political act but rather a display of acceptance. The Oxford English Dictionary defines a “safe space” as “a place or environment in which a person or category of people can feel confident that they will not be exposed to discrimination, criticism, harassment, or any other emotional or physical harm.”
Despite this being a call to accept and support all students, the district is moving forward with disciplinary action against Stonecipher and may finalize her dismissal this week. In an official statement, the district stated that “Labeling certain classrooms as safe havens for certain groups could communicate to students who do not see themselves reflected in that classroom’s decorations that they are unwanted or unsafe in those rooms.”
Schools should inherently be safe spaces, but unfortunately, queer students still don’t experience that. These simple signs signal support and a regulated environment where they can be themselves without fear of harm. Education is a human right. All people should be awarded a safe environment to grow and learn.
