National
Another Black man found dead in Ed Buck’s WeHo apartment
Raises questions and begs for clarity
When the news first hit early Monday morning, it sounded tragically familiar and frightening: a source alerted a Los Angeles Blade freelancer that Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Homicide investigators, along with Medical Examiner personnel from the County Coroner’s office, were on the scene at 1234 N. Laurel Ave. in West Hollywood investigating the death of a young black male.
That was Ed Buck’s apartment, site of the apparent overdose death on July 27, 2017 of Gemmel Moore, a 26-year old Black male escort who had been a frequent visitor to Buck’s apartment and, through his discovered journal, posthumously claimed Buck hooked him on crystal meth as part of a sexual predilection.
“It is suspicious that this has happened twice now,” L.A. County Sheriff’s Lt. Derrick Alfred told KTLA Monday afternoon, Jan. 7. But, KTLA added, “Buck is currently not considered a suspect and not in custody, officials said.”
“Currently” perhaps being the word that might catch the eye of those who still angrily believe that Moore’s case was treated differently than if the dead person in Buck’s apartment had been white and Buck had been African American.
Moore’s mother and community activists believed Buck had injected Gemmel with the drugs that killed him, making his death a homicide. But the gruesome Coroner’s report ruled the death an accidental overdose and the case was eventually dismissed by the LA County District Attorney for lack of evidence “beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Though the initial investigators questioned Buck’s neighbors and confirmed his penchant for young Black men, the Coroner ruled Moore’s death accidental and there was nothing to directly tie Buck to Moore’s overdose. That prompted calls of racism.
“If that incident had occurred in my home, the police would have kicked down my door, guns drawn and had me in handcuffs. There’s no doubt about it. That’s how it goes,” Jeffrey King, executive director of In The Meantime Men told the Los Angeles Blade after Moore’s death.
“That’s part of the bigger issue here. That guy [Buck] was treated like a respectable citizen. But a drug-related accident occurred in a man’s house. He should have been taken down to the station and questioned, at minimum. This is a matter of race on a minimum level. The value of this kid’s life is not the same as a prominent person’s child—he would have been handled different. The police would have been relentless; the DA would have been relentless; the whole system would have been relentless,” King said.
That’s why the chaos that resulted from the second death in Ed Buck’s apartment is so shocking: from very early Monday morning to very late Monday night, despite urgent calls and pleas for accurate information, several levels of the LA Sheriff’s Department stonewalled and stymied press inquiries as well as community members—thus allowing misinformation to dominate the fevered discussions. Surely someone in the Sheriff’s Department remembered the outcry over Moore’s death. Surely someone realized the indignity silence conferred on the second Black man to die in Ed Buck’s apartment in 18 months. Surely someone would react publicly as if this was a hate crime in West Hollywood. But, no.
One easy to convey piece of information that was withheld from the public: the victim was a black man in his mid-50s. In the information vacuum, the community passed along the inaccurate news provided by that first tipster and some of Buck’s neighbors that this death was essentially another Gemmel Moore.
One unidentified neighbor interviewed by KTLA said she was out walking her dog around 12:15am when she saw a young black man go into Buck’s apartment. She then saw an older Black man, a “huge gentleman,” go into Buck’s apartment but she didn’t see either of them come out. She called the man’s death a “tragedy.”
Most reports from neighbors indicated that Sheriff’s deputies were on the scene around 3:15am. But Alfred told the Los Angeles Blade that a sheriff’s deputy and paramedics arrived at Buck’s apartment shortly before 1:00am after a 911 call of a person not breathing. The caller was the other person in the apartment—Ed Buck—who performed CPR on the man and called 911 when he was unsuccessful. The Fire Department pronounced the man dead at the scene.
Alfred said they do not yet have a positive identification from the Coroner’s office. However, the man is believed to be “a male Black adult, who is approximately 55 years old, if it’s the person we think it is, the person is definitely in his mid-50s.”
Was there any evidence to indicate this death was in any way drug-related? In the Gemmel Moore case the coroner’s report noted “24 syringes with brown residue, five glass pipes with white residue and burn marks, a plastic straw with possible white residue, clear plastic bags with white powdery residue and a clear plastic bag with a ‘piece of crystal-like substance,’” according to the LA Times.
“We’re not going to comment on the conditions we found at the time until it’s fully investigated,” Alfred said. However, “there were no obvious indicators of what may have caused the death. So at this time we don’t know. We won’t know until we hear from the Coroner’s office after they conduct a post-mortem exam, which would include any toxicology testing that would give us an indication of whether it was drug-related.”
So what happened in the roughly hour and a half between the first and second responses? What happened to the third person in the room, the young Black man the neighbor saw enter Buck’s apartment?
“I personally have no knowledge of that,” Alfred said. “I know the investigators canvassed the apartment complex—they’ll probably go back to try to talk to the neighbors to try to get those statements. We’ll review the information and probably reach out to that person who provided that but to our knowledge there was only the two people in the apartment at the time.”
Alfred said he would not comment on any statements that were made by Buck to investigators.
Buck’s attorney, Seymour Amster, showed up outside Buck’s apartment to talk to reporters. He told KTLA that the man at Buck’s home “had already been partying … and already taken some substances” when he arrived. Amster asserted that Buck had been in the shower for some of the time between the man’s arrival and death and that Buck had not taken any substances with him.
“The individual was exhibiting bizarre behavior,” Amster said of the dead man.
“From what I know, it was an old friend who died of an accidental overdose, and unfortunately, we believe that the substance was ingested at some place other than the apartment,” Amster told the Los Angeles Times. “The person came over intoxicated.”
When Alfred returned the Los Angeles Blade’s calls in the late afternoon, he said he was not aware that the community was responding with anger and heartbreak throughout the day, thinking a second young man had died like Gemmel Moore.
But it was a day gripped by anger, stirred by silence, disrespect and lack of or misinformation.
After the Los Angeles Blade’s freelancer reached out to Det. Rodriguez in the morning, the Blade’s news editor drove to Buck’s apartment, left a message, then drove to the West Hollywood Sheriff’s station seeking answers. The Blade asked West Hollywood Watch Commander Sgt. S. Hewitt to please confirm or clarify the timeline since that station no doubt responded to the 911 call. Though explicitly informed that West Hollywood residents were concerned about two similar deaths at this apartment, Hewitt would only say that Homicide was handling the incident, catching herself mid-eye roll when the Blade persisted with questions and the answer was always the same.
In The Meantime Men’s Jeffrey King was among those angered by being stonewalled and disrespect at several levels of the Sheriff’s Department.
“I got several calls, text messages, and messages through Facebook asking what does “In the Meantime intend to do?” King told the Los Angeles Blade late Monday. “ I thought it was important to first find out the facts before I do something. I wanted to know what I was talking about.”
King says he was met with “disrespect, impatience, and lack of willingness to address the concerns I addressed that were community concerns.” When he finally spoke with two people at Homicide, he and the lead detective had a “fairly decent conversation going,” but he still couldn’t confirm or give out information.
“One more time here is a black person—forget his age—being found dead in this man’s apartment. And his death is not being addressed properly. Our community is not being respected. No one is saying anything to the family. There is no dignity to the lives of these individuals and it’s because they’re Black.”
The Homicide official who first responded to several calls from the Los Angeles Blade said there was no homicide investigation and that Homicide detectives routinely roll out for death investigations. He said LASD press relations would issue a statement and forwarded several Blade calls to Alfred, which went to voicemail. The Sheriff’s press person, while trying to be nice and polite, at first had no knowledge of the incident. She finally said a press release was being cleared by “the administration” and would be sent out when completed. But the Sheriff’s News Room site was impossible to search for press releases.
Meanwhile, the Los Angeles Blade contacted the City and members of the West Hollywood City Council for comment—hoping the Sheriff’s Department was at least telling them the facts of what happened.
The City of West Hollywood has requested “a full investigation” by the Sheriff’s Department, a press release stated.
WeHo Mayor John Duran said he would not comment and is leaving the matter in the hands of the sheriffs and District Attorney
Councilmember Lauren Meister’s response illustrates the misinformation that was circulating throughout the day. “This is tragic,” Meister told Los Angeles Blade. “My heartfelt sympathies go out to the family and friends of this young man.” However, she says she has “discussed with our City Manager and Public Safety Director this morning — the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department and the District Attorney must provide a thorough investigation into the circumstances of this incident and any similarities to prior incidents at the same location.”
Councilmember John D’Amico said he was not going to comment, but added some information. “I asked the city manager to contact Sheriff Villanueva’s office first thing this morning and I’m going to let the DA and LASD do their jobs,” he wrote. “Mr. Buck made donations in 2011 and 2014, $1,000 total, those dollars were spent on those campaigns and the campaign accounts were closed years ago. Keith and I have made donations many times that amount every year to social service agencies that help with sobriety, HIV AIDS, mental health and homelessness. I thought that a better use of the money than returning it to Mr. Buck.”
KTLA got Alfred on camera in the afternoon, by chance, it turns out. When the Blade and other news outlets were staking out the apartment to no avail, KTLA stayed on and suddenly noted activity in the afternoon. Alfred later told the Los Angeles Blade that a call had come in saying someone was throwing something out the window that could be evidence in the second death so a patrol deputy and fire fighter dashed to the scene and recovered the object. He would not say what was found.
By late afternoon, news outlets were reporting the story—presumably because they still think Buck is a “wealthy prominent Democratic donor,” though he has been political kryptonite since Gemmel Moore’s death. The LA LGBT Center issued a statement around 4:30pm calling on the Sheriff to keep the public fully informed—which had not happened by then, and presuming that like Moore, the second death was also linked to drug abuse:
“The Los Angeles LGBT Center calls upon Los Angeles County Sheriff Alex Villanueva and his department to fully investigate this tragedy and aggressively seek justice wherever the investigation might lead. “Although the investigation is in its early stages, we urge Sheriff Villanueva to keep the public fully informed as LGBT people have a considerable and urgent interest in a case that is so clearly linked to the health and safety of our community. The reports we have heard provide more questions than answers. The fact is two black men have died at Mr. Buck’s home in less than two years. “While much is still to be learned, it appears this tragedy is linked to substance use. LGBT people and other marginalized groups are at elevated risk for impacts that result from the current epidemic uses of opioids, methamphetamine, and other dangerous drugs. The Center provides free or low-cost, comprehensive, and judgment-free addiction recovery services and has a service to provide free fentanyl testing strips to those who request them. For help or more information, contact the Center’s Addiction Recovery Services at [email protected] or 323-993-7448.”
At the end of the 11-minute interview, Alfred asked for the public’s help and indicated that he is willing to reopen the Gemmel Moore case and file criminal charges with the DA, if new evidence emerges.
“We always appreciate any help we can get from the community. They may have more knowledge about this or any similar instances that occurred—or any type of activity that occurs in the area or that particular apartment. We’re always interested in finding out what’s going on,” he said, asking anyone with information to come forward.
“Our first concern for the Homicide Bureau, specifically, is to be to fully investigate the circumstances surrounding the death of this individual. Also we’re going to look into the prior incident where Gemmel Moore had died at the scene to see if there’s any similarities,” Alfred said.
“We’re just going to look at everything we have and we’re going to see where the information and evidence takes us. And if it takes us to criminal filing or if we uncover new information—although Gemmel’s case was determined to be an accidental overdose—if we learn something new and that has to be looked at a second time, then of course, we’ll take that new information and we will investigate fully.”
From there, they’ll work with the District Attorney’s office “to determine what, if any criminal activity may have occurred and if so, present it for potential filing. But we won’t know until we’re able to do a thorough exam and all the facts come in.”
Anyone with information can call the Homicide Bureau directly at 323-890-5500 and ask for Det. Q. Rodriguez or Sgt. P. Cardella. To make an anonymous tip, go through Crime Stoppers.
Finally, if the community considers Ed Buck and the alleged use of illicit drugs in his apartment to be a public menace or nuisance, Alfred suggested that the community work with the West Hollywood Sheriff’s station to find a solution akin to the “broken windows” policy of community policing.
“As it pertains to any type of public nuisance – we’ll work with West Hollywood Sheriff’s station—who could probably get the community involved—concerning these ongoing public nuisance situations,” Alfred said. He defined public nuisance as “anything that would cause quality of life for people who live in a particular area to be lessened by these ongoing criminal acts,” major or minor. “Either way, they affect those around them. Life quality is something that can be looked at in a community policing type of thing where the station can look at the assets available and pour resources into the community to try to effect change.”
Puerto Rico
LGBTQ ‘human rights crisis is unfolding in Puerto Rico’
Activist spoke at Congressional Hispanic Caucus briefing in D.C. on July 15
An activist from Puerto Rico who spoke at a Congressional Hispanic Caucus briefing last week in D.C. said anti-LGBTQ laws and policies have left the LGBTQ community in the U.S. commonwealth even more vulnerable.
“A human rights crisis is unfolding in Puerto Rico — one that disproportionately affects LGBT+ people, particularly transgender and nonbinary Puerto Ricans,” said True Self Foundation Executive Director Miguel Vázquez-Rivera.
The True Self Foundation and LatinoJustice PRLDEF participated in the briefing that took place on July 15.
Vázquez-Rivera during the briefing highlighted several anti-LGBTQ laws and policies that have been implemented since Gov. Jenniffer González took office in January 2025. These include Law 63-2025, which prohibits gender-affirming healthcare for anyone under 21, and Law 26-2026, which prohibits the University of Puerto Rico and other “government facilities” from installing “mixed or gender-neutral multi-occupancy restrooms.”
“The legislation aims to strengthen public safety standards while ensuring that no individual is subjected to unlawful discrimination,” noted the Puerto Rico Federal Affairs Administration on Feb. 25 in a press release after González signed it.
González, a Republican who is a member of the pro-statehood New Progressive Party, was Puerto Rico’s resident commissioner in the U.S. House of Representatives before she became governor. González supports President Donald Trump.
Vázquez-Rivera during the briefing highlighted anti-LGBTQ measures that have been introduced in the Puerto Rico Legislative Assembly. These include House Bill 164, which would prohibit transgender athletes from school sports teams that correspond with their gender identity, and House Bill 131, which would allow faith-based adoption agencies to deny services to same-sex couples.
“The overwhelming scientific evidence is clear: children raised by same-sex parents do just as well as those raised by different-sex parents,” said Vázquez-Rivera. “What matters is not the gender or the sexual orientation of the parents; but the presence of love, stability, and support.”
Trump upon taking office for a second time on Jan. 20, 2025, signed his “Defending Women from Gender Identity Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government” executive order. Among its provisions is the federal government’s recognition of two genders: male and female.
Vázquez-Rivera noted “other proposals” in Puerto Rico “would recognize only ‘biological sex’ in government documents, prohibit inclusive language throughout public institutions, continue challenging recognition of nonbinary identities, and reverse protections for LGBT+ students previously adopted by the University of Puerto Rico.”
“The challenges facing LGBT+ Puerto Ricans cannot be viewed as isolated debates about healthcare, sports, bathrooms, or language,” said Vázquez-Rivera. “They are part of a much larger picture.”
“Puerto Rico is already confronting poverty, disaster recovery, healthcare shortages, and economic instability,” he added. “When discrimination is added to these realities, existing inequities become even deeper. Mental health worsens. Families are displaced. Communities become more vulnerable.”
Vázquez-Rivera further stressed “these issues are interconnected, and our response must be as well.” He also urged the LGBTQ rights movement to do more to support — and fund — advocacy efforts in Puerto Rico.
“Ultimately, this is not about granting special rights,” said Vázquez-Rivera. “It is about ensuring that more than three million American citizens living in Puerto Rico have the same opportunity to live healthy, safe, and dignified lives as every other American.”
The Puerto Rican government has not responded to the Washington Blade’s request for comment.
North Carolina
In the middle of the Bible Belt, a summer camp lets trans kids exhale
Adulthood feels possible at Transcending Adolescence
Uncloseted Media published this article on July 18.
By SAM DONNDELINGER | On a June night in rural North Carolina, dozens of campers sat around the fire as a counselor asked them to close their eyes.
“Picture a place where you feel completely safe,” they were told. “Think about what it looks like and how it feels, what you can hear, smell, and taste.”
When they were invited to share what they had imagined, one camper described sitting in a circle with other trans people. It was dark. Trees surrounded them. Mosquitoes buzzed.
“‘That place is here, and this is the place where I feel safe,’” Jacob Hofheimer, one of the camp’s founders, recalled the camper saying. “It got all of us.”
For many of the 8- to 17-year-olds who attend Transcending Adolescence, the weeklong summer camp offers a reprieve from the calculations they have to make in their day-to-day lives: Who knows they are trans? Who can be trusted? Which bathroom can they legally use?
At a time when 40 percent of transgender and nonbinary youth seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year, and 90 percent of LGBTQ youth reported that recent anti-LGBTQ laws, policies, and debates cause them stress or anxiety, those questions never disappear. But at this camp, young people are given space to ask them openly and to a community that understands why they need to.
“It really made me smile knowing that there’s a lot of people out there like me,” Ruby, a 12-year-old camper, told Uncloseted Media. “I’m putting myself out there, I’m being myself and no one judges me.”
Origins
Transcending Adolescence was founded in 2019 by Jacob and his wife Chrissy Hofheimer. The trans married couple wanted to create a camp for queer kids in America’s South, where affirming resources can be difficult to find.
Surrounded by thick woods and the backdrop of the Appalachian Mountains, campers swim, tie-dye shirts, complete ropes courses, roast marshmallows and perform in shows. They also gather for conversations about healthy relationships, medical care, legal rights, bathroom anxiety, coming out, misgendering, depression, substance use, and self-esteem.
“A huge part of it is that every single person there is trans or gender diverse, including the staff,” says Rory Sowers, a 19-year-old junior counselor from Florida. “That’s just something that you don’t get to experience a lot, especially as a young trans person.”
Sowers first attended Transcending Adolescence as a camper during its inaugural year in 2021. He returned three times before becoming a junior counselor.
“There’s so much that trans folks have to worry about just going about their day-to-day lives, especially living in the South,” Sowers says. “I was able to come into myself a lot more when I didn’t have all of those anxieties on my back.”
A place to be ‘just Ruby’
For 12-year-old Ruby, pre-camp anxiety was intense.
When she attended camp in June of last year, it was the first time traveling to another state without her parents.
“I was nervous about having someone there not really understanding me … and not really accepting me,” says Ruby, whose name has been changed to protect her privacy.
Outside camp, Ruby worries about how other people perceive her, according to her mom, Kate, whose name has also been changed. She says her daughter has to consider a litany of questions cis kids don’t have to worry about: “‘What if someone finds out? Are they looking at me? Do I look the part?’ … All these thoughts go through her head every single day.”
Before camp, Ruby had been struggling so intensely that her family had questioned whether it might feel easier for her “not to be who she was,” Kate says. Ruby had faced bullying in school, prompting her family to withdraw her and homeschool her for the remainder of fifth grade.
“I couldn’t really go anywhere without picking [at] myself because I was anxious,” Ruby says.
But when she arrived at camp, a lot of Ruby’s anxiety subsided. She didn’t have to introduce herself through the lens of being trans. She could just be herself: a funny, theatrical, outgoing 12-year-old who likes Beyoncé, improvises rap battles, and wants to be in the center of dance shows.
“She can just go there and just be [Ruby],” Kate says. “[Being trans] is only a little piece of her. There’s so much more to her, and she’s able to do that for the whole week. … It was completely life-changing for her.”
Research suggests that spaces like Transcending Adolescence can have powerful mental health effects.
Young people tend to fare better when they feel they belong and have access to peers and adults who understand them. In one small study from 2021, participants of a six-day LGBTQ summer camp reported increased resilience, self-esteem and quality of life. Focus groups indicated that transgender and nonbinary campers found an affirming environment that offered social opportunities they had been unable to find elsewhere.
Though this environment can be transformative, it’s intimidating at first for some. Jacob remembers asking one camper from Texas his pronouns during medical check-in, and the boy responding that he used “guy pronouns” because he “was a guy.”
Jacob recalled him being closed off and leery of the “hippie-dippy nonsense.”
But on the second-to-last night, Jacob overheard him speaking with a fellow camper.
“‘When I first came here, I thought that I was a disgusting, mutilated pig and an alien, and nobody would ever love me because I’m trans,’” Jacob recalls the camper saying. “‘And now I know that being trans doesn’t make me disgusting. It’s actually a beautiful thing.’”
He later texted Jacob to say the camp had given him confidence during the school year.
“‘Half the time, I forget that I’m trans,’” Jacob remembers him writing. “‘I’m just a guy. I’m just me.’”
“Finding places where you literally see yourself and can be seen by others for who you are is important during adolescence. It’s a human need,” Stephen Russell, professor of social and family dynamics at Arizona State University, told Uncloseted Media. “For trans youth, especially those who may not feel fully accepted at school, at home or in their faith communities, a camp where their identity isn’t something they have to navigate or defend, but is simply centered as part of who they are, can be transformative.”
Filling the gaps
The Hofheimers know that these spaces can transform the mental health of trans youth because they experienced it firsthand when they met while working as lifeguards at a summer camp for young queer people in New Hampshire.
The camp was doing important work, Jacob says, but many of its attendees came from privileged families in New England and other parts of the country where affirming programs were more accessible. Far fewer came from places such as Florida, Georgia, and Texas.
That’s why, for the location of the camp, they intentionally chose North Carolina, a state that has laws on the books that exclude trans girls from participating in sports, restrict the instruction of LGBTQ topics in schools and ban gender-affirming care for trans youth.
“Access is really, really important,” Chrissy says, adding that while the camp costs $1,975 for the week, they offer robust financial aid, including a $1,500 “no questions asked” subsidized rate for families who can’t afford it.
At the camp, the staff educates campers about anti-trans laws, coming out, and how to have conversations with their doctors about gender-affirming care.
“The kids want to talk about this stuff,” Jacob says. “That was the gap that we identified.”
For Chrissy, baking education into the camp’s programming is personal: When she was transitioning as a young adult, accessing informed medical care was difficult. During consultations, doctors either quoted prices she could not afford or refused to treat her. One told her that they did not “put boobs on men.”
Desperate to change her chest, Chrissy turned to a friend who had undergone illegal silicone injections without an apparent complication. She received what she believed were similar injections in Florida.
But the substance wasn’t silicone, she says, and it hardened and became intertwined with her breast tissue. Seventeen years later, Chrissy underwent a double mastectomy to fix the damage.
This experience became one of the driving forces behind the camp’s educational work.
“Accurate information might have changed the course of my life,” Chrissy says.
To provide information that breaks out of the TikTok and Reddit misinformation bubble many campers exist in at home, Chrissy and Jacob bring in experts and host nightly fireside chats.
Each night, campers gather around for structured conversations about the nuances of being trans. They talk about coping with misgendering, managing bathroom anxiety, identifying red and green flags in relationships, asking for help, and caring for their mental health.
Jacob, who is a certified nurse practitioner, helps answer questions about gender-affirming care. A trans attorney explains policies affecting campers in different states and separates the practical effects of those laws from incomplete information and political fearmongering.
“It made me think about the people who I tell I am trans to and what I have to do to make sure I feel comfortable telling them,” Ruby says. “It let me think about all these questions I had but didn’t really know how to ask.”
Building what comes next
Chrissy hopes the results from the camp’s program will eventually be replicated across the country.
For now, roughly 30 campers come together for one week each summer. Some arrive unhappy about being sent to camp. But by the final day, Sowers says, those same campers are often crying because they do not want to leave.
They return home to the same schools, states, and political climates where they have to decide when it is safe to disclose their identities and how to respond when someone does not understand them.
But at camp, Ruby, among the other campers, found a weeklong respite and saw trans adults who were not merely surviving but building careers, relationships, and communities.
“After the camp, I really haven’t been talking about how I feel insecure that I’m trans,” Ruby says. “I can’t wait to go back and see the people I met and [meet] new friends.”
National
Remembering Victoria Cruz, Stonewall veteran and beloved trans activist
A witness to history who would spend decades helping to shape it
Victoria Cruz, a veteran of the 1969 Stonewall uprising and unwavering advocate for survivors of violence, died on June 25 from liver cancer at age 79. Fierce, generous, and unyielding, Cruz emerged from Stonewall as a witness to history who would spend more than five decades helping to shape it. She became a fixture of New York LGBTQ+ activism and in time, one of the community’s most beloved elders and mentors.
One of 11 children, Cruz arrived with her family in Red Hook, Brooklyn from Guánica, Puerto Rico as a young child. She occasionally quipped that she was “never in the closet” but “in the armoire,” and knew from an early age that she was a girl at a time when there was little language to describe her experience. She studied cosmetology and hairdressing at Metropolitan Vocational High School, before attending Brooklyn College where she earned a theater degree in 1982. She supported herself through beauty work, as a stripper, sex worker, and entertainer in the New York City nightlife scene, giving her first drag performance at the Grapevine in 1973 to a Billie Holiday song.
A regular at the Stonewall Inn, Cruz often arrived in what she described as “full drag and semi-drag.” In a 2025 interview she recounted details of the gay bar on Christopher Street – the lack of plumbing, except for the bathroom, and how she would only drink beer because the ice for mixed drinks was drawn from unsanitary garbage cans where glasses were rinsed.
“[The cops] used to come in and raid the place, and put the lights on. If you were two men together, you’d look for a lesbian to sit with or talk to.” If you had make-up on, she said, they’d make you wash it off with dirty water from the mop bucket. Officers also did what she called “the Robin Hood.”
“They used to take the bra straps in the back and pull them, you know, they were very heavy elastic, and let it go so it’ll hurt their back.”
Harassment was routine. But the night of Friday, June 27, 1969, was different. Maybe the cops weren’t given “the little brown bag pay off” or “enough money,” she speculated.
Cruz hadn’t planned to go that night. She had work the next day at a beauty parlor but her boyfriend, Frankie, was a bouncer at Stonewall — and “a cheat.”
“I went and stalked him.” When he asked her to go home, she said, “‘No, I’m going to wait up here, because tonight you’re going home with me.'”
It was close to midnight, and the air was hot and humid, she recalled. A full moon in the sky. Judy Garland had just been buried, and the atmosphere in the Village was solemn – “like the calm before the storm.” Standing near the steps next to the Stonewall, Cruz spotted Sylvia Rivera—who would also become a prominent trans rights figure—with her friends across the street by Sheridan Square Park.
The paddy wagons came. The bar got raided, yet again. But this time, a rebellion began to simmer.
“And then the crowd started getting a little bit rowdier outside, they started throwing pennies,” Cruz recalled. “They were calling them names, you know, ‘dirty copper.’ ” As cops started loading people into the paddy wagons, she “saw one queen got punched.” She thought it was Miss Major, who later publicly recounted taking a blow to the head and getting knocked unconscious.
Police brought a paddy wagon around and went back inside the bar. “And here comes a brick out of Sheridan Square Park, and it cracked the window, and they closed all the doors as a barricade. We were hearing noise from inside.”
Frankie came out to see whether she was still there. A Canadian in the country illegally, he wanted to leave. Cruz wanted to stay. “That’s serious when they started burning stuff – and then Frankie says, let’s get out of here.” She recalled the violence escalating. “First it was garbage pails. Then they started setting up fire on cars. And I said, no, no, no. That’s too crazy.”
After the raid, Frankie’s boss called him in “to clean out the basement and try to straighten up whatever the cops smashed up over there.” Frankie found one of three drink-price signs, and downstairs, the dog, Rusty, who guarded the liquor (“even though the liquor was watered down”). One of the owners let Frankie take him home. “I was so afraid of dogs, but I gave him food, and then he became my best friend and my protector.”
As for the sign, she kept it in her possession and shared that she hoped to return it to Stonewall along with photos of Frankie and Rusty. “They are part of our original history and they belong there.”
Those nights of chaos and violence are now widely regarded as the birth of the modern gay rights movement. One year later, Cruz joined thousands in what she called “the big first gay pride liberation march.”
“She was definitely one of our mothers in the movement,” says Shelby Chestnut, now executive director of Transgender Law Center, who worked with “Miss Vicky” at the New York City Anti-Violence Project (AVP) from 2010 to 2017. Cruz first came to AVP seeking support after being sexually assaulted by members of the nursing staff while working at Cobble Hill Health Center. She later volunteered at AVP and remained with the organization for 18 years, eventually coordinating the domestic violence project and serving as a senior counselor advocate.
Shay Huffman, a school social worker and former AVP Board Member, credits Cruz with being her lifeline while going through intimate partner violence. “By the time I got to AVP, I was 95 pounds,” says Huffman. “I seriously doubted I would survive. I had lost my appetite, wasn’t eating, and felt like my spirit was being sucked out of me.” Huffman says it was important to her that Cruz was a woman of color. “She heard me. She met me where I was. She validated me. She gave me hope and encouragement. She made me believe, ‘Maybe I can survive this.’ It was the first step from becoming a fighter and survivor to really thriving.”
Cruz’s impact extended beyond those she counseled. For many young trans people, the presence of an elder figure like “Miss Vicky” was not something to be taken lightly, Shelby Chestnut says.
“Especially at the time when she got into advocacy, in an ‘official’ way, there was a real expansion of trans justice organizations in New York City, and she would come to all of the events and be this big voice of reason. Even in the face of so much terribleness in the world right now—even at almost 80 years old—she was so clear and articulate: ‘We can’t back down. We’ve been here before. We can’t give people new ground in this moment to take our power and livelihood away.’ She imparted this to a new generation of organizers and leaders in a way that not many people could.”
“She came up in a post-Stonewall reality but also was clear that so much of our conditions didn’t change just because Stonewall birthed our movement.”
Her commitment to justice came to wider public attention with the release of the 2017 documentary “The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson.” The film documents her meticulous investigation into the 1992 death of her contemporary, Marsha P. Johnson, a Black trans woman whose death was ruled a suicide despite suspicious circumstances. Cruz’s probing not only helped expose the very real possibility that Johnson was murdered, but also underscored a broader reality: Many trans women of the era were treated as throwaways, their deaths denied the attention and justice they deserved.
Following Cruz’s death, the documentary’s director, David France, paid tribute to Cruz on Facebook:
“Throughout her life she embodied pure joy, something she learned from Marsha P. Johnson (whom she called “The Rosa Parks of the gay movement”), and fierce resistance, which she dedicated herself to in her last conversation with Sylvia Rivera on her death bed. She promised Sylvia she would ‘keep the community together.’ And she did that and more. She died on Pride Week, her highest of holy days. There never will be another like her.”
“Victoria loved the beach,” recalls Cruz’s sister, Heyde Cruz, 73. “She called it her sanctuary and as my children and my other siblings’ children were growing, she would take them to the beach and show them how beautiful it was, picking up seashells and other beach objects on the sand and they loved it.”
Indeed, Cruz was a popular presence at the People’s Beach at Jacob Riis Park in Queens, where she was often spotted beneath a sun tent in colorful attire and her signature headband with feathers and cowrie shells. She was considered royalty at this haven for queers near the former Neponsit Hospital — a building that fell into ruin over decades before ultimately being demolished, despite protests by a community that had laid claim to a landmark no one else seemed to want.
In a 2023 conversation, the “Queen of Riis” recounted tales of noble mischief dating back to the earliest days when she had first set foot on the sands in 1963. The facility had been running as a “Home for the Aged” and the gay folks delighted in helping elderly residents sneak out to frolic on the beach.
“We would tell them when the guys were coming so they could run back to the premises,” she said. She loved hearing the concerts from the facility’s gazebo, where patients would be taken out for lunch. “I loved to go on Sunday mornings because of the church services,” Cruz said. “They played the most wonderful American gospel I ever heard.”
Cruz had hoped that the building might be preserved and turned into a hospice, where “the sounds of the sea, the sun, the gulls [might] make them enjoy life more, especially in their last days.”
Last December, The Stonewall Inn Gives Back Initiative (SIGBI) honored Cruz with a Brick Award for Community Activism. Latina actor, model and trans activist Angelica Christina introduced Cruz, highlighting the elder’s fight for the LGBTQ+ community as “front and center,” noting she had “done so with courage, conviction and compassion.”
“From being a longtime leader at the Anti-Violence Project, to being a part of the documented history at Stonewall, Victoria has supported survivors of anti-LGBTQIA+ violence when few others would,” said Christina, herself a survivor of sexual assault and homelessness. “She fought for safety and accountability and dignity at a time when our stories – especially that of BIPOC trans women – were too often ignored… “
To a standing ovation, Cruz spoke to those who have long admired her spirit, as well as a new generation reaching for the torch amid a renewed political tempest intent on extinguishing the most marginalized:
“We resisted at Stonewall and we can resist now because they’re not going to erase us,” Cruz assured. “Today, it is better to be yourself. Life is much easier when you are you.”
“And I thank you for this prize, because like Sylvia [Rivera] said – and I promised her – that wherever I would go, I will try to keep the community together because we do have the numbers, and with our allies, we can defeat them anytime…
“We’re here from the beginning and we’re going to be here ’til the end.”
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