National
Trans rights activist Miss Major Griffin-Gracy dies at 78
Revisiting Blade’s 2024 interview with legendary voice for equality
Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, a nationally acclaimed organizer and activist for transgender people, the LGBTQ community, sex workers, and incarcerated people, died Oct. 13 at her home in Little Rock, Ark.
Her passing was announced by the Little Rock-based Griffin-Gracy Educational Retreat and Historical Center, also known as House of gg, a transgender support and services center she founded in 2019.
“Miss Major – known as ‘Mama’ to many – was a Black, trans activist who fought for more than 50 years for trans, gender nonconforming, and the LGB community, especially for Black trans women, trans women of color and those who have survived incarceration and police brutality,” the statement announcing her passing says.
“Major’s fierce commitment and intersectional approach to justice brought her to care directly for people with HIV/AIDS in New York in the early 1980s and later to drive San Francisco’s first mobile needle exchange,” the statement says.
It adds, “House of gg was born out of her dream to build a center that would empower, heal and be a safe haven for Black trans people and movement leaders in the Southern U.S. – a space for our community to take a break, swim, enjoy good food, laugh, listen to music, watch movies, and recharge for the ongoing fight for our lives.”
A Wikipedia write up on Griffin-Gracy says she was born and raised in Chicago and came out as trans in the late 1950s. It says her parents were not accepting of her gender identity, prompting her to leave home at a young age and work for a while as a showgirl at the Jewel Box Revue theater in Chicago before moving to New York.
In a 2014 interview with the Bay Area Reporter, she said that after moving to New York in the 1960s she became a regular patron of the Stonewall Inn gay bar, at which trans women were known to gather. She said she was there at the time of the 1969 police raid that triggered the Stonewall rebellion when patrons fought police in the historic action credited with starting the modern-day LGBTQ rights movement.
Griffin-Gracy began work in community services, including services for trans women, after moving to San Diego in 1978, according to the Wikipedia write-up, and later performed home health care work during the early years of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s.
It says she moved to San Francisco in the 1990s and worked with multiple HIV/AIDS organizations, including the Tenderloin AIDS Resource Center. In 2004, she began work at the San Francisco-based Transgender Gender Variant Intersex Justice Project (TGIJP) and later became executive director of the organization. The organization provides support services for trans, gender variant, and intersex people in prisons.
Shortly before traveling to Chicago in 2024 to attend the Democratic National Convention as an honored guest of the National LGBTQ+ Task Force Action Fund, Griffin-Gracy participated in an interview with the Washington Blade via Zoom from her home In Little Rock. Among other things, she told of her support for Democratic presidential candidate Kamala Harris against Donald Trump in the 2024 presidential election.
“I plan on going to every place Trump goes and speak to the tender loving people in those places and tell them what a liar he is and how insane he is and that they just shouldn’t vote for him,” she told the Blade.
Among those praising Griffin-Gracy’s work and lamenting her passing was David Johns, CEO and executive director of the D.C.-based LGBTQ advocacy group National Black Justice Collective.
“Her pioneering work to center and uplift Black trans women, particularly those who have been incarcerated and faced police brutality, made space for the most powerful and most marginalized members of our community and set the foundation for the freedom work so many of us continue today,” Johns said in a statement.
“At a time when the rights and dignity of trans people are again under relentless attack, Miss Major’s life reminds us of what it means to persevere in the fight for equality that all LGBTQ+/same gender loving (SGL) people can live freely an authentically,” Johns said in his statement.” Her spirit will continue to guide us as we fight for a world where every Black trans person can thrive and live a joy-filled life.”
An excerpt from the Blade’s August 2024 interview and profile of Griffin-Gracy follows:
Those who are familiar with Miss Major’s brand of activism might be surprised by her work with the Task Force Action Fund, her appearance at the DNC, and perhaps especially her commitment to criss-crossing the country to talk voters out of supporting Donald Trump and into supporting Vice President Kamala Harris’s historic bid for the White House.
As shown in “Major!” the 2015 documentary about her life, and a 2023 memoir comprised of interviews with journalist Toshio Meronek called “Miss Major Speaks: Conversations with a Black Trans Revolutionary,” the activist’s foremost concerns have always been centered around providing for her trans brothers and sisters.
Her work on this front is never ending: [Griffin-Gracy’s assistant Muriel] Tarver gave the Blade a virtual tour of Miss Major’s property, which she has used as a refuge for trans folks who are free to stay and relax on the well-kept grounds, which are complete with a guest house and a pool.
Where she may have sidestepped electoral politics in the past, however, there is “so much happening to whereby you had to get involved in it now,” Miss Major said. “But before it was just — my community has suffered so bad for so long, so often, that you’ve got to do something to help them navigate the bullshit that goes on in the world.”
This usually means ensuring that basic needs are met. “And I don’t feel as if politics helps that,” she said, because “it’s got to be people and the relationships you build and what you build together with another person that makes it better.”
Miss Major added, “I want things to be better for all of us. You know, transgender and non transgender people.” And as society has begun to make space for those with non-cisgender identities, the backlash has been vicious. “They’re so afraid of opening up to us,” she said.
When it comes to political candidates, she said, “As an ordinary person, you know, I’m concerned about food and gas and clothing and shit like that. And, you know, who else cares about this? I need to know the person who’s in charge cares and is going to do something to alleviate the stress on me to get it.”
By the time President Joe Biden announced his decision to step aside on July 21 — well before that pivotal moment, Tarver stressed — Miss Major and the Task Force Action Fund were ready to spring into action.
“It was quite a service act that he did for the country,” Miss Major said. “Because I really believe that he could have gone further, but he just didn’t have what it took. And so when he stepped out and made her the nominee, he invigorated, and he poured such joy to this country, and hope, and belief that it can be done, that [Trump] can be stopped.”
“As we all heard about the potential for Biden stepping down and putting aside his personal and political interests for the sake of democracy, which is a pretty historical and brave thing, we all wanted to be ready to respond to what would happen,” Task Force Action Fund Communications Director Cathy Renna told the Blade by phone.
Issuing a joint endorsement of Harris was historic for both Miss Major and the Task Force Action Fund, Renna said. “We have not endorsed anyone since Jimmy Carter, which was shortly after our founding, right? So, we’re talking about almost 50 years ago.”
“We wanted a bold choice,” she said, “and we also understand what’s at stake in this election.”
Miss Major sees the contrast between the two candidates as clear and compelling; the difference between sanity and insanity, competence and chaos. “Do you want someone who lies to you? Or do you what someone who tells the truth?”
Trump spreads filth and disorder like the character from Charles M. Schulz’s “Peanuts” comic strip who is perpetually surrounded by a cloud of dust and detritus, she said.
Harris, on the other hand, represents the future. “She’s breaking the ceiling. There’s a glass ceiling. And when she breaks through, she’s gonna go on,” Miss Major said. “And after this, something like 10s of 1000s of people are gonna go through that, too. It’s just going to be phenomenal.”
(Christopher Kane contributed to this report.)
National
Philadelphia event to launch 2026 LGBT History Month
Dr. Fauci to be honored as 31 LGBT ‘Icons’ are announced
Equality Forum, the Philadelphia-based group that organizes the nation’s annual LGBT History Month in October, is scheduled to launch the 2026 LGBT History Month at a VIP Reception on Sept. 27.
The event, to be held at Philadelphia’s Independence Visitor Center, will honor Dr. Anthony Fauci, the former director of the U.S. National Institute of Allergies and Infectious Diseases who is credited with playing a leading role in the fight against HIV/AIDS and COVID-19. Equality Forum was to present Fauci with its International Role Model Award.
The Equality Forum, which operates programs focusing on LGBT history and the people who play a leading role in historic undertakings, will also present its Frank Kameny Award to Erica Deuso, who in 2025 won election as the first openly transgender mayor in the state of Pennsylvania as mayor of the town of Downington, Pa.
A statement released by the Equality Forum points out that LGBT History Month, held each year, celebrates the achievements of 31 lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender icons throughout the month of October. “Each day in October, a new LGBT icon is featured with a video, bio, bibliography, downloadable images, and other resources,” the statement says.
Although the statement releases the name and a short background description of each of this year’s 31 LGBT icons, the icons were scheduled to be officially announced and honored at the Sept. 27 event.
“The LGBT community is the only community worldwide that is not taught its history at home, in public schools or in religious institutions,” the statement says. “LGBT History Month provides role models, builds community and makes the civil rights statement about our extraordinary national and international contributions,” it says.
This year’s Icons include designer Calvin Klein, media mogul Barry Diller, U.S. Senate hopeful Chris Pappas, and perhaps most notably President Abe Lincoln.
Additional information about the event and a list of the 2026 LGBT Icons can be accessed at lgbthistorymonth.com.
Netherlands
Dutch prime minister visits Stonewall Inn
Rob Jetten is the Netherlands’ first openly gay prime minister
Dutch Prime Minister Rob Jetten on Monday visited the Stonewall Inn in New York.
“The Stonewall Inn is not just a gay bar in New York, but the place where in 1969 riots took place as a reaction to years of discrimination and police violence,” wrote Jetten on X. “This is seen as the starting point of the global LGBTIQ+ emancipation and activism. Nowadays, the bar is a national monument, dedicated to the LGBTIQ+ rights movement.”
“For me, it is impressive and moving to be here tonight. And also fitting, because the defense of human rights is an important part of our foreign policy,” he added. “The Netherlands stands alongside the Stonewall Inn community when it comes to everyone’s right to live openly, safely, and with pride, no matter who you are or who you love.”
De Stonewall Inn is niet zomaar een gay bar in New York, maar de plaats waar in 1969 rellen plaatsvonden als reactie op jarenlange discriminatie en geweld van de politie. Dit wordt gezien als startpunt van de wereldwijde lhbtiq+-emancipatie en activisme. Tegenwoordig is de bar… pic.twitter.com/hJmFYjF91Z
— Rob Jetten (@MinPres) September 23, 2026
Jetten in February became the Netherlands’s first openly gay prime minister.
He opened last month’s World Pride Human Rights Conference in Amsterdam. Jetten also participated in a panel with former Irish Prime Minister Leo Varadkar, former San Marino Captain Regent Paolo Rondelli, and other current and former heads of government who are gay or lesbian.
Jetten is scheduled to speak to the U.N. General Assembly on Thursday.
National
For lesbian victims of domestic violence, competent care is scare
Heteronormative assumptions, funding cuts contribute to lack of resources for survivors
Uncloseted Media published this story on Sept. 22.
By EMMA PAIDRA | Claire, a 25-year-old Los Angeles resident, distinctly remembers the night she and her ex-girlfriend broke up.
“She was strangling me in a CVS parking lot,” Claire recalls, adding how she was gasping for air as bystanders looked on. “I made eye contact with one man who just kept walking, and we were right behind a car that was trying to reverse out of a parking spot. No one got out of the car. They didn’t honk; they didn’t do anything.”
Claire, who asked to use a pseudonym due to safety concerns regarding her ex, says she managed to fight her way out of her then-girlfriend’s grasp. It was at this moment in 2024 she realized things had reached a breaking point.
While research on intimate-partner violence has traditionally focused on opposite-sex couples, two recent reports found that queer women, like Claire, are not immune to this type of abuse. An international research review published last year in the Journal of Media Critiques found “IPV rates in same-sex relationships are comparable to or exceed those in heterosexual relationships,” with up to 46 percent of lesbians encountering such abuse, compared to 36 percent of straight women. A separate review published earlier this year found that nearly 27 percent of lesbians surveyed had experienced IPV.
Despite the prevalence of IPV in lesbian relationships, heteronormative and outdated assumptions have left many queer women feeling like they have nowhere to turn for competent services and support, according to experts, advocates and victims interviewed by Uncloseted Media.
“Queer folks are joining the conversation to say, ‘This is happening in our communities, too, and we need the same resources and support services that straight women are offered,’” Tori Stranges, a professor of women’s studies at the University of British Columbia, told Uncloseted Media.
A frequently overlooked problem
Stranges says the false notion that only men are domestic abusers can result in violent same-sex relationships not being taken seriously.
“People assume that violence is perpetrated by men against women,” she says, adding that this “has left queer people out of the conversation.”
“If it was a man that was doing all these things, and people heard and saw it, I’m sure I would have been taken seriously,” says Claire. “People saw a 5-foot-7 woman who didn’t look that strong — and above all, she was a woman. Men, especially, don’t really see that as a threat. So they’re like, ‘If I’m not threatened, then I’m sure it’s not a big deal.’”
Outdated assumptions about IPV can even result in victims themselves overlooking their abuse.
“When it comes to abuse in heterosexual relationships, there are national campaigns, there are resources that you can access,” Stranges says. “There are people coming into the school systems to talk about relationship violence. We don’t have similar recognition and the same conversations about queer people.”
Claire says the violence she was subjected to was paired with moments of intense affection, which made it harder for her to recognize the abuse.
“We would get into a fight, and she would physically abuse me, and then apologize. She was actually also very gentle with me sometimes,” Claire recalls. “That kind of cycle can be really addicting. I would always wait for the good parts.”
The role of mental illness
K.P., a 47-year-old lesbian living in Maine, was with her abusive ex-girlfriend for five years before ending the relationship in 2023. During their time together, K.P. says her ex, who struggled with panic disorders, ADHD and depression, experienced a decline in her mental health, which contributed to more frequent outbursts of rage. When it comes to the link between rage and violence, one 2022 meta-analysis found that “anger was a significantly stronger correlate of IPV perpetration for women than men.”
K.P., who was working from home at the time and felt like she had no escape, says her ex’s verbal abuse spiraled into physical violence.
“I was on the couch with my laptop, trying to work, and she was just being belligerent,” recalls K.P., who asked to be identified by only her initials because of safety concerns. “I tuned her out, but when she realized I wasn’t giving her the attention that she expected, she went to the kitchen, grabbed two knives and started coming at me.”
K.P. ran outside, trying to get away. Her ex ran after her and then chased her back inside to avoid being seen by neighbors.
Once inside, her partner hid her phone. K.P. used this brief window to message a co-worker on her laptop, asking him to call the police.
“I was confused and afraid,” K.P. told Uncloseted Media. “I’d never been chased with a knife before, let alone by someone who I cared about.”
Research shows LGBTQ people have higher rates of mental health conditions than their non-LGBTQ peers. A study published last year in JAMA Network Open found sexual and gender minorities had “significantly higher odds of at least four of 10 commonly diagnosed mental health conditions,” including post-traumatic stress disorder and bipolar disorder.
IPV may also contribute to negative mental health effects, with research finding that victims experience an increase in depression, anxiety and PTSD and a reduction in life satisfaction.
“After we broke up, I was messed up,” K.P. says. “It took me a good six or eight months to feel like I could breathe again.”
Trapped in a ‘double closet’
In addition to mental health, the stigma of being queer may affect a victim’s response to being in an abusive relationship. When Claire first came out to her family, she says they kicked her out of their home until she returned to the proverbial closet. They eventually accepted her sexuality, but Claire says the residual shame she carried afterwards led her to avoid the added stigma she feared she’d experience if she admitted to being in an abusive relationship.
“All of that combined made me feel so trapped. I just thought, ‘Oh my god, I’m being judged from every single angle,’” she says. “There was just nowhere to go.”
Letícia Yuki de Araujo Furukawa, a clinical psychologist specializing in supporting survivors of IPV, says this kind of thinking is not uncommon among queer women in abusive relationships.
“Sometimes lesbian women who are experiencing IPV relationships start to isolate themselves, to prevent themselves from the shame and judgment they think they are going to suffer,” she says.
Furukawa says this impulse is rooted in the layers of stigma queer women face.
“It comes down to two things that make it like a double closet: We have the closet of being a lesbian, and you have the other one that comes from being in a violent relationship.”
According to Furukawa, having a supportive family can decrease the risk of entering an abusive relationship. Unfortunately, strained familial relationships are common among queer people: A 2022 study in the Journal of Marriage and Family found that 32 percent of gay and lesbian adult children — compared to 22 percent of their heterosexual counterparts — were estranged from their fathers.
Because of the shame Claire faced from her family when she came out, she was reluctant to admit there was a problem in her relationship when her mother and sister expressed concern. She worried that if her family knew her lesbian relationship was abusive, they would stop accepting her queer identity.
“My mom and sister would say to me during the relationship that they thought my ex looked evil, and that I changed so much. I used to be such a bubbly girl, and my personality made a complete 180,” she remembers. “In my head, I was like, ‘I can’t admit that it’s true.’”
‘Gaps in, policy, care, and services’
When queer women have the courage to report IPV, some don’t receive the response they’re hoping for. When police arrived at K.P.’s home following the knife-wielding incident, she says they opened a case file and wrote an incident report but said there was nothing else they could do because her ex had fled the scene.
“It was a little frustrating that since my ex-girlfriend drove away, the police couldn’t do anything,” K.P. explains.
Laura Elizabeth, an assistant professor of criminal justice at Virginia Union University who researches IPV, says there may have been additional steps police could have taken to support K.P., including connecting her with resources for domestic-violence survivors.
“It is vital that [police] make the proper referrals, and that it not just be limited to handing the victim a brochure,” she says. “There needs to be an active discussion with victims about what their options are in terms of who they can reach out to, who can offer what services.”
Kimberley Jackson, an associate professor at the Arthur Labatt Family School of Nursing at Western University, says lack of research on same-sex domestic violence also impacts the support services available to lesbian victims.
“The intersection of IPV and the LGBTQ community is really not well understood,” Jackson told Uncloseted Media. “What we can tell you based on really limited evidence, is that there are huge gaps in policy, care and services. And with respect to shelters, we haven’t really moved the needle very far.”
One area in which shelters may be failing lesbian victims has to do with both the perpetrator and the victim being able to access the same shelter.
“This issue is further compounded in rural areas, where there’s likely only one shelter,” Jackson says. “There’s a chance they won’t be able to turn someone away, even if they’re the perpetrator.”
Jackson says queer victims of domestic violence who aren’t open about their sexuality may face additional obstacles.
“With respect to anonymity, in a lot of rural places, you’re going to know people in the community,” she says. “There are issues with accessing help if you’re worried about outing yourself.”
Calls for change
Experts and victims say LGBTQ training for shelter workers and law enforcement, as well as funding for research, could help prevent same-sex IPV and address the damage done by such abuse.
But under the Trump-Vance administration, these funding resources are slipping away. In March of last year, the administration canceled at least 68 grants, totaling nearly $40 million, that were focused on LGBTQ health. A second round of cuts followed two months later, during which $800 million worth of grants dedicated to researching LGBTQ health were terminated.
Rebecca Hobbs, co-executive director of Through These Doors, a domestic violence resource and advocacy center in Portland, Maine, says LGBTQ training materials are essential to ensuring shelters can support lesbian victims.
“LGBTQ people will not come to us unless they see themselves reflected in our materials,” Hobbs says. “We want our advocates to be well versed in understanding the additional barriers and challenges that LGBTQ people might experience.”
Advocates say police departments could also benefit from LGBTQ-awareness training.
The state of California and a number of large cities — including Atlanta, Chicago, Los Angeles, Houston, New Orleans, New York, Philadelphia and D.C. — have implemented some form of LGBTQ-sensitivity training.
But Greg Miraglia, founder and CEO of Out to Protect, a national organization supporting LGBTQ police officers and equipping all officers to serve queer people, says these programs are the exception, not the rule.
“Most other states do not require any type of LGBT awareness training,” Miraglia, a retired police officer who is based in California., told Uncloseted Media “There are over 18,000 law enforcement agencies out there, and I don’t think we’ve scratched the surface.”
“The problem comes about when law enforcement goes into a domestic violence incident with a same-sex couple without any training, carrying a lot of stereotypes that are common,” Miraglia adds. “They’re not picking up the fact that this is a couple that’s involved in an intimate relationship, and therefore domestic violence laws in that state apply.”
Claire says she wishes someone had intervened when her ex abused in the CVS parking lot and on her college campus. “The police had the biggest missed opportunity to intervene, as well as campus security,” she says. “A lot of our fights were in public, and she would get very loud. I made a promise to myself that if I ever saw anything like that in public, I would say something, because that’s all I needed at the time.”
