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.

When Leonna was six, wildfires turned the sky a wrathful shade of red. 

The sun seemed to be the glowing eye of a giant beast veiled within the smoky horizon. She feared it would consume the world. That morning, her mother had soothed her despondent cries and promised it would be all right, but Leonna never quite forgot the dreadful memory of that burning sky. 

Now, for the first time in forty years, the fury of those flames returned.

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.

On a Saturday night in April in the Denny Triangle neighborhood, vintage glamour was present at the doors of Seattle’s Kremwerk complex. DJ duo Théque Support (composed of Hot N’ Spicy Disco and Moonlighter) were bringing their monthly evening of Disco Dust to Seattle, with a set from special guest Heidy P visiting from New York. Moonlighter and Hot N’ Spicy Disco are both from Detroit, the official birthplace of techno and a continuing hub of electronic music innovation. At the duo’s monthly disco parties, hosted in Kremwerk’s newest dance room, Cherry, they go old-school, dusting off vinyl records and using turntables.

A three-part poem from a Black woman in America:

On a Friday night in Capitol Hill, a crowd of eager theater-goers entered through the unassuming front doors of Seattle Open Arts Place to watch the debut of a new theater company. Well Behaved Women and Co were putting on their inaugural production, In the Next Room (or The Vibrator Play).

Northwest Film Forum will premiere Seattle filmmaker John Helde's new film, Marcie's, on April 4 and 5, 2025. Marcie's is about a small Washington town on the outskirts of the suburbs of Seattle that is feeling the encroachment of the city and developers who want to demolish the beloved community hub of Ed's Tavern in order to bring big business to the area. I sat down with John to talk about Marcie's and his unique style of filmmaking.

The setting sun outside steeped the city in gold, and a pleasant breeze carried the scent of budding flowers. He remembered the open fields of Anna’s family home, breaths of summer wind rustling the curtains as Anna painted by the window. 

He never should have brought her to the city.

April 2025 marks the 55th anniversary of Earth Month. What initially started as an environmental awareness day in the United States is now an annual celebration across the world. Over the years, billions of people have joined forces to continue educating while advocating for policies that better protect communities, habitats, and wildlife. This year, the theme—Our Power, Our Planet—calls for an increase in renewable energy generation.

In February, I was an instructor at an arts-infusion workshop for a group of Seattle Public School elementary teachers. The workshop was held at an amazing multi-arts space that I had no idea existed in Seattle: PublicDisplay.ART. Arts Impact, the organization I teach with, acquired the use of the multipurpose space at no cost—an arts space that can be reserved and used for FREE! “How is that possible?” I asked myself. I connected with Marty Griswold, the Publisher of PublicDisplay.Art (they also publish a hard-copy magazine) and he filled me in on all the details. 

The Tesla Takedown protests began in February 2025, shortly after the inauguration of Donald Trump, who was flanked by tech billionaires Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerburg, Jeff Bezos, and Sundar Pichai. But the Musk/Trump alliance became apparent earlier than that at an election victory party where the Tesla CEO sieg-heiled on stage. Soon after the inauguration, Musk wasted no time ingratiating himself and planting his Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), a taskforce created by Donald Trump after Elon Musk floated the idea in an interview with the president-elect.

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? 

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.

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.

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.

It began slowly—the plague, the greed, the riots. Revolutionaries rose up behind symbols, murals, and songs, while the masses were fed machinery and religion. In the wake of the destruction, politicians deemed art a dangerous thing—a worthless thing—and the masses agreed. They took away the paint, the books, and the instruments. But they could not wholly silence the artists. These are the stories they left behind.

For this week, I wanted look back at a poem and poet that fell into my lap in a time that I needed it the most. Cody R. Simpson, also known as singer/songwriter and actor Cody Simpson, released his poetry collection Prince Neptune in 2020. The collection touches on a conflicting battle between his struggle to uphold his godlike persona and reflecting on his own mortality of fame and fortune. “Simpson’s poetry combines themes of freedom and the ocean with the wisdom of an old soul.”

It began slowly—the plague, the greed, the riots. Revolutionaries rose up behind symbols, murals, and songs, while the masses were fed machinery and religion. In the wake of the destruction, politicians deemed art a dangerous thing—a worthless thing—and the masses agreed. They took away the paint, the books, and the instruments. But they could not wholly silence the artists. These are the stories they left behind.

I attended a Martin Luther King Jr. Day march in Seattle’s Central District on January 20, 2025. That day was also the inauguration of our nation’s 47^th president, Donald Trump. Many Americans are tired of talking about politics and Trump. Well, not everyone. I think there’s something about this coalescence of events that stands to unite us more than divide us. Hope stems from the fact that this march, which at times threatened to be more about Trump than Dr. King, ultimately succeeded to underscore the importance of some of the very radical problems King was putting his lifeforce into trying to solve before he was assassinated.

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.