
Seattle Asian American Film Festival
-
"This year commemorates 50 years since the end of the Vietnam War (or “The American War” as it is known in Vietnam).
-
"Ngoc was there that evening because she is on a mission to have her husband Tuan freed from ICE custody so the two of them may begin their lives together now that Tuan has completed a 25-year prison sentence. "
-Andre Stackhouse
-
"Even while tackling challenging emotional themes, the PNW Shorts program also contained some excellent moments of comedy and levity."

Start Reading

Raegan Ballard-Gennrich
Dark and Tender: Healing Black Men with The CUT Project
Raegan Ballard-Gennrich
Raegan Ballard-Gennrich
PRIDEful Stuff:
Aaron Johnson (he/him) is on a mission, the type of undertaking that comes to you through lived experiences. Ben Wilson (he/him), the producer of and participant in the short film Dark and Tender, invited me to attend the film’s screening at the Seattle Black Film Festival. The film, which aims to be a larger documentary, tells the story of the CUT Project.
It’s opening night! Today marks the start of the Seattle Asian American Film Festival—a two-day affair held in Seattle at the Wing Luke Museum (International District) and Broadway Performance Hall (Capitol Hill), and followed by a week of virtual screenings for those who can’t attend in person. This year commemorates 50 years since the end of the Vietnam War (or “The American War” as it is known in Vietnam).
Jasmine Joshua and Heather Ragusa’s musical Here & Their, starring Chloe Payne and Meg McLynn, is shaping up to be a new Queer musical classic! With top-tier vocals, witty lines, and songs that are sometimes hilarious and sometimes heart-wrenching, Here & Their brings a fresh perspective on Queer stories that many of us can relate to as well as creates levity during these dark times. This musical is joyous, hopeful, and feels like finally taking a deep breath after a tense and stressful start to 2025.
On June 15, millions of Americans took part in the No Kings protest. In Seattle, around 70,000 protestors marched from Cal Anderson Park in Capitol Hill to Seattle Center. Whether you were among them or not, the ripples of the protest could be felt all over the city. For weeks, I have seen people with signs and heard chanting from around my block in the University District, and on my usual weekend commute, I have watched protestors stand together around Seattle Center. This is the first truly hopeful week I have had in a long time, and in the middle of Pride Month, knowing there are so many people willing to fight against this administration has been inspiring.
Sometimes, to see yourself reflected back at you can be a radical experience.
This was how it felt at Moving History – The Queercrow Archive, Volume 3 on June 8 at Northwest Film Forum. The event was the third annual installment of a collaborative project between two Seattle nonprofits devoted to preserving history through video: Scarecrow Video and MIPoPS (Moving Image Preservation of Puget Sound).
Back in March, I had the pleasure of interviewing Emergence Films’ cofounder Rachel Noll James and discussed the forthcoming Emerging Filmmakers Program. Open to anyone who identifies as a woman, this program’s mission is to elevate marginalized voices in the filmmaking world while giving filmmakers of all experience levels the opportunity to create a feature length movie. A few months later, this year’s cohort of emerging filmmakers has been selected! There are three groups: Team Pocket Topic (Melissa Tumas and Sonia M. Kandathil), Team Mother Tongue (Jo Woods and Sarah Mona), and Team Cosmic Coyote (Mia McGlinn, Ila Dreesen, and Sydney Renee).
It’s very different from my experiences growing up moderately religious in the South. It took away the shame and self-blame. In heteronormative, vanilla sex, there are too many unspoken expectations, too many assumptions about what’s going to happen, that some people just begin following the script without any sort of communication. This, I believe, leads to situations like what 17-year-old me experienced, where I left thinking I had led someone on and realized years later that I was actually assaulted. I don’t know if he knows this though.
While the play had a lot of workshopping to do, its commentary was important. It gave a wide representation of LGBTQ+ lives and showed the isolation felt beneath the weight of conservative cultures throughout the world. It also showed the resilience of Queer communities in the face of oppression and brought the conflicts in the Middle East centerstage, demanding viewers to remember them.
It is refreshing to have a press dedicated to queer stories. It is even better that these stories are so accessible. Many of Northwest Press' offerings are available digitally for download as well as in traditional paper and hardback. The price of each is much more affordable than the latest from the big publishers as well as in a beautiful package. There is something for everyone at Northwest Press, and as it says on much of their wonderful merch: Comics are for everyone.
When asked to attend the 2nd annual Seattle Fetish Ball and write about it, I only had one question at first: What do you even wear to fetish balls? I’m the type of person that needs to look at menus, check parking, and figure out how long a walk from place to place is. I like being informed, but mostly I have a fear of being or looking out of place. Luckily, they had guidelines. Fetish wear required, it was clearly intended to be a safe space for the fetish/kink/alternative communities.
When I brought the idea of beginning a new series to my managing editor, I had the intention to create an informative column. I would look at the news and digest it as best I could, making a one-stop place for Trans News. But, as I’ve said, the news is changing rapidly, court decisions are made every day, and new propositions and bills are entering the floors of city, state, and federal chambers at breakneck speeds. There’s too much to break down and others work tirelessly to update the community on a national scale, so I’ve shifted the focus of our column to advice, local news, and uplifting stories for Trans, Nonbinary, and Gender Non-Conforming people in the Puget Sound region.
The barkeep opened a side door and waved them in. There, in the gilded haze of flame-lit lamps, artists gathered. Poets, painters, sculptors, musicians, dancers. Artists of all sorts came to the garden to talk, create, and workshop. It was a safe place for unfettered expression. One of the last of its kind.
A Millennium Reflection, which was foraged from a multitude of Seattle poets and photographers, brings people together for a common cause and common love. Published in 1999, it is a love letter from its residents to their city. The collection, a celestial tribute, deeply reflects on the beauty and resilience of Seattle alongside where it started, how far it has come, and where it still plans to go. Through poems and photographs, the city of Seattle is brought to life again.
In the second month of 2023, I started taking testosterone injections once a week. There had been several years of hand-wringing and self-doubt up to that point. Was this the right decision? What if I regretted it (although few actually do)? What if I drowned in ass hair?
Let’s be blatantly clear. Queerness isn’t going anywhere.
With Trump taking back office at the end of January, I am just a single drop in the queer sea of confusion, disdain, and fear. Through this trying time, I wanted to gather my thoughts, process them, and share my story of how I got here and where I plan to go.
That date, three days before my 28th birthday, is when the US Supreme Court handed down the decision in Obergefell v. Hodges that ensured same-sex couples the right to marry. I remember crying as I read the news and saw the videos. I was so ebullient in fact that I took to Facebook, started a post with a link to the news story and wrote out, "Now that I can marry anyone I want, I should get going on this whole dating thing," and clicked Post.
I started taking testosterone in February of 2024, a decision made after years of teetering back and forth between comfort and safety. I wanted to be seen as myself. I wanted to look in the mirror and recognize the person who was looking back at me. But I also didn’t want the inherent danger that came with being trans in public—not the flaunting of my identity, but just the mere fact of my existence in the eyes of others. I didn’t decide it lightly.
Playland gives us one last night in Boston’s oldest and most infamous gay bar, featuring the ghosts who, even in life, haunted this place. Whimsical and bittersweet, Georden West’s film pays tribute to one of the oldest gay bars in the country: the Playland Cafe, previously located in the so-called Combat Zone in Boston, the city’s adult entertainment district. The cast of characters includes bar flies, performers, servers, and all manner of debauches and renegades.
Ani DiFranco, folk singer and founder of Righteous Babe Records, is returning to Seattle, February 1, 2025, to the Moore Theater. In the spirit of her visit, I wanted to select a poem from her poetry collection Verses, published in 2007, which tackles “the tough issues at hand” while “her personal-is-political viewpoint is more relevant than ever”. The collection looks at the importance of art and poetry and how they can be powerful tools in rhetoric when entering political spheres.
Roller derby is a sport built on grit, strength, and feminism. These qualities distinguish it from most mainstream sports, which are dominated by men athletes and administrators. Even where women’s leagues exist, the structures that support them are often still dictated by men-dominated decision-making. Roller derby stands out because its foundation has been shaped by women. It is one of the few sports where women aren’t just participants, but are the driving force behind every aspect of the game.
