Arts & Entertainment
Queer, Crip and Here: Meet blind writer Caitlin Hernandez
Author navigates intersecting identities in life, work
(Editor’s Note: One in four people in America has a disability, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Queer and disabled people have long been a vital part of the LGBTQ+ community. Take two of the many queer history icons who were disabled: Michelangelo is believed to have been autistic. Marsha P. Johnson, who played a heroic role in the Stonewall Uprising, had physical and psychiatric disabilities. Today, Deaf/Blind fantasy writer Elsa Sjunneson; actor and bilateral amputee Eric Graise who played Marvin in the “Queer as Folk” reboot; and Kathy Martinez, a blind, Latinx lesbian, Assistant Secretary of Labor for Disability Employment Policy for the Obama administration, are only a few of the queer and disabled people in the LGBTQ community. Yet, the stories of this vital segment of the queer community have rarely been told. In its monthly, yearlong series, “Queer, Crip and Here,” the Blade will tell some of these un-heard stories.)
Some creators agonize for years before plunging into their art.
This wasn’t the case with queer, blind writer and teacher Caitlin Hernandez. Hernandez wrote her first “novel,” “Computer Whiz,” she writes in her bio, when she was in the fourth grade. She kept her monitor off so no one would see her “masterpiece.”
Reading and writing have been a part of Hernandez’s life for as long as she can remember. “I was writing, even as a little kid,” Hernandez, who was born in 1990 and grew up in Danville, Calif., said in a telephone interview with the Blade, “In first grade, I wrote stories in braille. They taught me to type. Because people were having to translate.”
As a kid, Hernandez used a tape recorder to tell stories. “That happens so often with blind kids,” said Hernandez, who lives in San Francisco with her partner Martha and Maite their Rottweiler.
Maite was Martha’s dog when the couple got together. “I call her my ‘stepdogter,’” Hernandez said. It’s clear from the get-go that she doesn’t take herself too seriously. Maite, her “stepdogter,” is “currently writing a picture book,” Hernandez jokes in her bio.
It’s commonly thought that disabled people lead sad, tragic lives. But Hernandez busts this myth. Martha, her partner, “reads braille with her eyes,” Hernandez whimsically writes in her bio.
Hernandez is committed to teaching and writing. But, she “loves eating coffee ice cream, watching Star Trek Voyager, singing, skipping and using her rainbow cane – sometimes all at once,” Hernandez writes in her bio.
Queerness is an integral part of Hernandez’s life: from her fiction, which tells stories of LGBTQ people, disabled people, and people of color to her rainbow cane.
“Queerness is considered cool now in many places,” Hernandez said, “it’s normalized.”
But that’s not true with disability, she added. “Generally, there’s more fear and misperceptions around disabled people,” Hernandez said.
Because of their discomfort with disabled people, she’s often left alone at social and literary gatherings.
“Because I’m blind, people frequently won’t talk to me,” Hernandez said, “even if I’ve read at an open mic.”
To make people feel more comfortable with her, Hernandez, totally blind since birth, sometimes uses a rainbow cane. “I designed it,” she said, “it has the colors of the rainbow flag. If you’re queer, you’ll get that.”
But it’s also beautiful because it’s a rainbow, Hernandez said, “It’s a great ice-breaker.”
(Hernandez uses her rainbow cane when she’s out with friends. When traveling by herself, she uses the white cane used by most blind people.)
Once people get to know [disabled people],” Hernandez said, “they’re chill with us.”
The Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 (ADA), a landmark civil rights law, despite problems of enforcement and compliance, has done much to change life for disabled people.
The ADA generation (those born when or after the law was passed) has grown up with the expectation that disabled people have rights. They’re not surprised to see curb cuts or braille menus. They expect employers to make accommodations for disabled employees and hospitals to have sign language interpreters for Deaf people.
Yet despite the ADA, ableism persists (even within her own ADA generation), Hernandez said. A key reason why discomfort with and fear of disabled people is still so pervasive is the problem of representation, she said.
Hernandez, a Lambda Literary Emerging Writer Fellow in 2015 and 2018, is acutely aware of how disabled and queer and disabled people are portrayed in fiction and nonfiction.
“Our lives are often represented so badly,” Hernandez said, “often by nondisabled creators. There’s a lot of fear and inaccuracy.”
Thankfully, there are a few fab books with disabled characters by disabled authors, Hernandez said. She loves “The Kiss Quotient” by Helen Hoang, who is autistic. The novel portrays the romance of an autistic econometrician and her biracial male escort.
Hernandez is a fan of “The Silence Between us,” a young adult romance featuring a Deaf character, by hard-of-hearing author Alison Gervais.
“The Chance to Fly,” co-authored by Ali Stroker, the bisexual, Tony-winning actress who uses a wheelchair, and Stacy Davidowitz, is one of Hernandez’s faves. The book, a novel for middle-schoolers, tells the story of a theater-loving, wheelchair using girl, who defies ableist expectations.
Hernandez began to think she was queer when she was in high school. But, she didn’t come out then to anyone except a few of her friends. “They kinda didn’t believe me,” Hernandez said, “because a friend of ours had already come out as queer and they thought I was trying to copy him.”
After she was in college, Hernandez, who earned a bachelor’s degree in literature from the University of California, Santa Cruz in 2012, came out to her parents.
Her folks, now divorced, were fine with her being queer.
Because nondisabled people frequently don’t see disabled people as datable or sexy, some aspects of coming out are more difficult if you have a disability, Hernandez said. “We often miss one of the rites of passage of coming out,” she said, “of saying ‘I am queer – here with my queer date (or partner).’”
Hernandez’s first relationship was with a woman who was closeted. “We couldn’t be out,” she said.
Hernandez got together with her partner Martha in November 2019. Then there was the pandemic and everything was cancelled. “So we didn’t get to go out as an out queer couple,” Hernandez said.
“Everybody knows I’m partnered with Martha,” she added.
But because of ableism, sometimes people don’t see her as Martha’s romantic partner, Hernandez said.
Like many, Hernandez navigates intersecting identities. “I’m thinking more about my being of mixed race,” Hernandez said, “My Mom is white. My Dad is one-half Mexican and one-half German. I can pass as white,” she added.
She’s grappling with what it means to have a Latinx last name, Hernandez said.
She wishes she had taken Spanish. “But I took French,” Hernandez said, “I wanted to do what my friends were doing.”
As a writer, Hernandez hopes to help children who live with intersecting identities.
Her work has appeared in “Aromatica Poetica,” “Wordgathering” and in “Barriers and Belonging,” “Firsts: Coming Of Age Stories by People with Disabilities” and other anthologies.
In 2013, “Dreaming in Color,” a musical written by Hernandez, was produced by CRE Outreach at the Promenade Playhouse in Santa Monica, Calif.
Hernandez’s unpublished young adult novel “Even Touch Has a Tune” is about a queer, blind girl falling in love with another girl and surviving sexual assault, Hernandez said in an email to the Blade. “It’s fiction but has a lot of autobiographical content,” she added.
If you’re disabled, you’re more vulnerable to sexual assault. When she was a freshman, Hernandez became friends with a fully sighted guy who she’d met in her classes. “He seemed nice,” she said, “but then he came over and touched me inappropriately.”
“I froze up,” Hernandez added, “if you’re disabled, you’re vulnerable. You’re taught to be polite – to keep quiet.”
While there’s more representation of disabled people in fiction, Hernandez is still discouraged.
Because of ableism, many literary agents may not want her “disabled and assault novel,” Hernandez said. (Her unpublished YA novel “Even Touch Has a Tune” is represented by Emily Keyes of Keyes Agency.)
Too frequently, representation of disabled people is focused on ableist tropes like “inspiration porn” and “overcoming,” Hernandez said. There isn’t interest in portraying scary, difficult aspects (like sexual assaults) of disabled people’s lives, she added.
But discouragement doesn’t stop Hernandez from writing or from connecting with kids as a teacher.
Hernandez earned a master’s degree in special education and her teaching credentials from San Francisco State University in 2016. Today, she is a resource specialist with the San Francisco Unified School District.
Hernandez enjoys forging a connection with disabled and nondisabled students. “Nondisabled kids come to me for extra help,” she said.
Hernandez has accomplished much. But, “I’ve learned I don’t have to be a role model,” she said, “I don’t have to be perfect.”
Travel
Manchester is vibrant tapestry of culture, history, and Pride
Alan Turning Memorial is among English city’s many attractions
Manchester, England, is not only famous for its industrial heritage, music scene, and football clubs — it’s also home to one of the most vibrant and historically significant LGBTQ communities in the U.K. Often referred to as the “gay capital of the North,” Manchester has been a pioneer in LGBTQ rights, visibility, and celebration, cultivating a culture of inclusivity that continues to thrive today.
The roots of Manchester’s LGBTQ history stretch back centuries, but it was during the 20th century that the city truly became a hub for activism and progress. In 1880, a scandal known as the “Manchester Drag Ball” brought national attention to the city when police raided a fancy dress ball attended by men in drag. Though the incident was used to stigmatize the community, it also marked one of the first widely publicized moments of queer expression in the city.
Manchester is home to several institutions that preserve and celebrate queer history. The LGBT Foundation, based in the city, is one of the U.K.’s leading LGBTQ charities, providing health and support services as well as educational resources.
The city is also immortalized in pop culture as the backdrop for “Queer as Folk,” the groundbreaking 1999 television series created by Russell T. Davies. The show, set in Manchester’s Gay Village, helped bring the realities of LGBTQ life to mainstream audiences and played a pivotal role in shaping public attitudes.
Manchester, is a city that lives and breathes resilience. It’s a place where cobblestone streets echo with the voices of industrial workers, punk rockers, activists, and proud members of the LGBTQ community. I came here seeking stories — some hidden in old libraries, others pulsing through neon-lit streets — and left with a sense of belonging I hadn’t expected.
My base for this journey was the magnificent Kimpton Clocktower Hotel. Located in a former insurance building dating back to the 1890s, it seamlessly marries historic grandeur with modern luxury. Walking through its doors felt like entering a different era. The soaring ceilings, intricate tilework, and dramatic staircases told stories of old Manchester, while the in-room record players spinning tracks by Oasis made sure I knew exactly where I was.
The heart of the hotel is The Refuge, a restaurant and bar that buzzes with energy. Whether sipping cocktails beneath the Winter Garden’s lush greenery or sharing small plates that borrow flavors from around the world, I felt immersed in the city’s welcoming vibe. Even in its luxury, the Kimpton feels like a place for everyone, especially when there is a DJ spinning some cool jazzy beats.
One thing I loved about this property is their “Forgot it? We’ve got it” service. Whether its toothpaste, a shaving kit, or phone charger, the helpful staff have you covered. I tend to forget at least one necessity on every trip. The Kimpton’s central location places guests within walking distance of Manchester’s vibrant cultural scene, including the Palace Theatre, Canal Street, and various shopping and dining options.
My first stop in Manchester was the John Rylands Library, an architectural marvel of neo-Gothic design. I was there specifically to view “The Secret Public” exhibition. It traces Manchester’s underground art scene, especially its ties to queer culture and punk resistance. Flyers, magazines, and photographs are on display.
And while we are on the topic of LGBTQ history, the best way to understand Manchester’s queer roots is by talking to the locals. The Free Manchester Walking Tours offers a Queer History Tour, led by passionate guides who have in depth knowledge of the city’s LGBTQ history and culture. We began our tour in Sackville Gardens, home to the Alan Turing Memorial and the Beacon of Hope, a tribute to those affected by HIV/AIDS. It’s a space for reflection, nestled just beside Canal Street’s constant thrum. For those not familiar with Alan Turing, he was a pioneering mathematician and computer scientist, best known for his role in cracking the German Enigma code during World War II, a breakthrough that helped shorten the war and save countless lives. Often regarded as the father of modern computing, Turing laid the theoretical foundation for artificial intelligence. Despite his monumental contributions, he was persecuted for being gay, ultimately leading to his tragic death in 1954. Today, he is celebrated as both a scientific genius and a symbol of the ongoing struggle for LGBTQ rights.
No trip to Manchester would be complete without a night — or three — spent in the Gay Village. Centered around Canal Street, it’s a place that radiates warmth and freedom. What once was a hidden, underground scene in the 1980s has become a global symbol of LGBTQ pride.
During the day, you’ll find people sipping coffee along the canal and by night, the rainbow flags light up the street. Spaces like Via and the Eagle pulse with music and laughter, while Cruz 101 remains a sacred institution for dancefloor devotees. This is more than a party district; it’s a cultural hub, one that has helped shape national conversations and lead by example.
Manchester’s gay scene is more than just nightlife. In the Northern Quarter, I stumbled into Feel Good Club. a queer-owned café that quickly became one of my favorite stops during my trip. Feel Good Club is a café but the space also hosts workshops, mental wellness events, and spontaneous conversations with strangers who somehow feel like old friends. I ordered a bowl of apple-soaked oats and I have to say, it was one of the most delicious and inexpensive things I ate during my entire trip to England. I should have asked for the recipe!
A few blocks away sits Queer Lit, an LGBTQ bookstore filled to the brim with stories I wish I’d had growing up. From queer romance and fiction to books on trans identity and intersectionality, the shop is both cozy and revolutionary. Queer Lit claims to have the largest selection of LGBTQ books in all of Europe. Beyond books, the store hosts events such as workshops, live readings, and book clubs, providing a safe and inclusive space for the community to gather and celebrate queer literature. They also serve a variety of beverages. I would definitely recommend trying one of their hot chocolate drinks.
Though my trip didn’t coincide with Manchester Pride, visitors can expect tens of thousands each August. Pride here features a blend of celebration and activism. From glitter-filled marches to thoughtful panel discussions, it’s a reflection of the city itself: joyful, inclusive, and unafraid to speak truth to power. Importantly, the money raised goes straight back into the community, funding LGBTQ+ health initiatives, charities, and support services. Also in August is SCENE, Manchester’s LGBTQ+ Film and TV Festival, which consists of a week of new and classic LGBTQ cinema and TV screenings, panels, and other events.
All this touring and learning about queer history made me hungry, so for dinner, I ventured to Maray, a Middle Eastern-inspired gem in the city center. Its signature “Disco Cauliflower” — roasted whole and topped with tahini, pomegranate, and harissa — was a revelation. The food, like the city, defied expectations. It was spicy, complex and comforting. I would also recommend trying the crispy sea bass with broccoli slaw. Maray’s vibe is relaxed yet refined, a perfect place to unwind after a day of exploration. Its inclusive, welcoming spirit felt aligned with everything I’d experienced in Manchester so far.
For a more casual dining experience, head over to Freight Island, a unique food hall and entertainment venue located near Piccadilly Station. The venue features a variety of locally owned food stalls including Mia’s Arepas, Ornella’s Little Kitchen and Mega Gyros. It’s a great place to grab a quick bite or cocktail after work with friends.
Manchester may not be as polished as London, but that adds to its charm and intrigue. I tend to enjoy cities like Manchester over their larger neighbors. During my entire stay, I was able to walk to every attraction I visited and by experience, the best way to see a city is on foot. It’s also a great way to burn off those extra calories.
Whether you’re wandering Canal Street at sunset, or simply sipping hot chocolate at Queer Lit, Manchester is a place where you can be yourself and belong.
Enjoy the journey!
Books
Embracing the chaos can be part of the fun
‘Make Sure You Die Screaming’ offers many twists and turns
‘Make Sure You Die Screaming’
By Zee Carlstrom
c.2025, Random House
$28/304 pages
Sometimes, you just want to shut the door and forget what’s on the other side.
You could just wipe it from your memory, like it didn’t occur. Or create an alternate universe where bad things never happen to you and where, as in the new novel “Make Sure You Die Screaming” by Zee Carlstrom, you can pretend not to care.
Their mother called them “Holden,” but they’d stopped using that name and they hadn’t decided what to use now. What do you call an alcoholic, queer, pessimistic former ad executive who’s also “The World’s First Honest White Man,” although they no longer identify as a man? It’s a conundrum that they’ll have to figure out soon because a cop’s been following them almost since they left Chicago with Yivi, their psychic new best friend.
Until yesterday, they’d been sleeping on a futon in some lady’s basement, drinking whatever Yivi mixed, and trying not to think about Jenny. They killed Jenny, they’re sure of it. And that’s one reason why it’s prudent to freak out about the cop.
The other reason is that the car they’re driving was stolen from their ex-boyfriend who probably doesn’t know it’s gone yet.
This road trip wasn’t exactly well-planned. Their mother called, saying they were needed in Arkansas to find their father, who’d gone missing so, against their better judgment, they packed as much alcohol as Yivi could find and headed south. Their dad had always been unique, a cruel man, abusive, intractable; he suffered from PTSD, and probably another half-dozen acronyms, the doctors were never sure. They didn’t want to find him, but their mother called…
It was probably for the best; Yivi claimed that a drug dealer was chasing her, and leaving Chicago seemed like a good thing.
They wanted a drink more than anything. Except maybe not more than they wanted to escape thoughts of their old life, of Jenny and her death. And the more miles that passed, the closer they came to the end of the road.
If you think there’s a real possibility that “Make Sure You Die Screaming” might run off the rails a time or three, you’re right. It’s really out there, but not always in a bad way. Reading it, in fact, is like squatting down in a wet, stinky alley just after the trash collector has come: it’s filthy, dank, and profanity-filled. Then again, it’s also absurd and dark and philosophical, highly enjoyable but also satisfying and a little disturbing; Palahniuk-like but less metaphoric.
That’s a stew that works and author Zee Carlstrom stirs it well, with characters who are sardonic and witty while fighting the feeling that they’re unredeemable losers – which they’re not, and that becomes obvious.
You’ll see that all the way to one of the weirdest endings ever.
Readers who can withstand this book’s utter confusion by remembering that chaos is half the point will enjoy taking the road trip inside “Make Sure You Die Screaming.”
Just buckle up tight. Then shut the door, and read.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.
‘A Wrinkle in Time’
Through July 20
Arena Stage
1101 Sixth St., S.W.
Tickets range from $59-$209
Arenastage.org
Currently at Arena Stage, talented out actor and singer Taylor Iman Jones is rekindling an old friendship with an adored character of fiction.
Broadway vet Jones is starring as 13-year-old Meg Murry in “A Wrinkle in Time,” the world-premiere musical adaptation of Madeleine L’Engle’s same-titled book.
For many readers, especially women, the classic 1962 young adult novel, was their first foray into sci-fi, particularly one with a female protagonist.
The story centers on Meg, an awkward schoolgirl whose physicist father has mysteriously disappeared. Now, Meg, her popular friend Calvin, and smart younger brother Charles Wallace are tasked with moving through time and space to find him. Along the way they encounter adventure and evil.
For Jones, 33, playing 13-year-old Meg feels freeing in ways. She says, “As you get older, you’re told to grow up, so I like letting go of some of that. To feel feelings in their rawest form and to tap back into that is fun. I like the spontaneity. There are highs and lows to revisit.”
Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, Jones began piano lessons at just six and soon added band and plays to their pursuits. Following high school, she made a deep dive into California theater for seven years before making the big move to New York in 2017 where after just two months she was singing on Broadway.
The determined and appealing Jones, who lives in New York with their partner, boasts an impressive bio. She has appeared on Broadway as Catherine Parr, Henry VIII’s sixth and final wife in Six, and in the original casts of “Head Over Heels” and “Groundhog Day.” She’s been seen in national tours of “Hamilton” and “American Idiot.”
WASHINGTON BLADE: It seems “A Wrinkle in Time” and Meg mean a lot to a lot of people.
TAYLOR IMAN JONES: The book tells the story of a girl with so much undiscovered power who’s accomplishing things she never imagined that she could.
BLADE: Can you relate?
JONES: Meg wears her emotions on her sleeve. I can certainly relate to that. I’m a Pisces. Sometimes being hyperemotional and very empathetic can feel like a burden, but as I’ve matured, I have realized that it’s not a bad quality. And it’s something I’ve learned to harness and to enjoy. I love that I can play a role like Meg in front of thousands of people.
BLADE: Was “Wrinkle in Time” a book you knew well?
JONES: Oh yeah, it’s a favorite book that lives in my heart and my mind. It’s one of the first books that taught me about the adventure of reading.
BLADE: And playing a favorite character must be a kick.
JONES: It really is.
BLADE: Meg is a big part in a big show.
JONES: This musical is huge. They’re traveling through space and meeting people on different planets. 20-person cast. 30 songs in the show. Quite the undertaking and I’m proud of us. I’m on stage for the entire musical and I sing four or five numbers.
As a mezzo soprano I guess you’d say I have the luxury of being able to do a lot of musicals that span a lot of different genres: rock musical, pop musical, and standards. “A Wrinkle in Time” is contemporary musical theater.
For me, singing is probably the least difficult part of the show. What’s harder for me is the way Meg experiences trauma; I need to be careful when I’m screaming and yelling.
BLADE: It seems mostly women have been involved in making this production happen (book by Lauren Yee; music and lyrics by Heather Christian; directed by Lee Sunday Evans; and choreography by Ani Taj.)
JONES: It’s true, the director, writer, etc., and most of our producers are all women. This doesn’t happen most of the time. For me it means new ideas and fresh energy, and pushing the limits of musical theater.
It’s also created a wonderful space in which to work. It can be more generous, and understanding. And centering the story on a young girl is something we can all relate to.
BLADE: Will “A Wrinkle in Time” resonate with queer theatergoers and their families?
JONES: I think so, especially on the heels of pride month. It’s truly a show for all ages about finding your inner strength and fighting for the things that you love; not letting evil win over the power of good, and not just for yourself but for those around you too.
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