Opinions
Returning to Alcatraz: Memory through a queer lens
Trump would like to ‘rebuilt and reopen’ notorious island prison
When I arrived at Alcatraz Island, what I felt wasn’t curiosity — it was discomfort. Standing before such a photogenic landscape, something felt off. As if the place was trying to erase what it truly was: a mechanism of punishment, a machine built to control and define who should be excluded. I couldn’t walk those corridors without thinking about what this place represents for so many of us: a symbol of how the state has decided, time and again, that some lives matter less.
As a queer person, what struck me wasn’t just the past Alcatraz holds — but how that past is still alive in today’s policies. As I looked into the empty cells, I thought about the many LGBTQIA+ people who have been punished simply for existing. People like Frank Lucas Bolt, the first prisoner of Alcatraz — not convicted for violence, but for “sodomy,” a label the legal system used to persecute gay men.
He was not the only one. For decades, being gay or trans was enough to end up in a federal prison or a psychiatric hospital. Not for a crime, but for defying the norm. The legal and medical systems worked hand in hand to suppress any deviation from prescribed gender and sexuality. In prisons, queer people were subjected to physical punishment, solitary confinement, and even conversion therapy. Alcatraz was not an exception — it was one of the system’s most brutal epicenters.
But the queer memory of this place isn’t found in tourist brochures. To uncover it, you have to read between the lines, search through archives that are never taught in schools, and listen to those who still carry the scars. Walking among those walls, I realized that remembering isn’t enough — we have to contest the meaning of memory itself. What isn’t told, is repeated.
That’s why, when a few weeks ago President Trump said he’d like to “rebuild and reopen Alcatraz,” I didn’t take it as just another symbolic gesture. I took it as a warning. In times of crisis, punishment becomes an easy offer: lock them up, expel them, make them disappear. And in that narrative, queer, migrant, and racialized bodies are always the first to be targeted.
The danger isn’t just in the idea of a reopened prison, but in what it represents: The longing to return to a social order that was already deeply unjust. The nostalgia for “tough-on-crime” prisons is the same one that criminalizes unhoused people, persecutes migrants, and stigmatizes queer and trans youth in public spaces. Anyone who dreams of locking up more people isn’t thinking about justice — they’re thinking about control.
In 1969, a group of Native American activists occupied Alcatraz for over a year. They did it to denounce land theft and the government’s betrayal of treaties. During their occupation, they painted a message on the island’s water tower: “Peace and Freedom. Home of the Free Indian Land.” That gesture was a radical reclamation of space, a way of saying: this island can also be a place of resistance.
Alcatraz holds many layers. It was a high-security prison, yes, but it also became the stage for one of the most powerful acts of civil disobedience in the 20th century. That tension still lingers. The question is not just what happened at Alcatraz, but what we want it to represent today. A renewed model of punishment — or a site of memory that helps us prevent more harm?
As I walked its halls, I couldn’t stop thinking about the migrant detention centers that are still full today. About trans people held in inhumane conditions. About arbitrary detentions. About those of us who, like me, crossed borders just to survive. The distance between that Alcatraz and our present is not as wide as we’d like to believe. The walls may change, but punishment still operates on the same bodies.
Standing before the empty cells, I felt what many must have felt there: the weight of abandonment, the state’s mark upon their body, the feeling that their existence was a problem. But I also felt something else: conviction. The certainty that we will no longer walk into those spaces in silence. That we will not let ourselves be labeled as “mistakes” or “deviants.” That if they try to lock us up again, they will find us organized, with memory, with dignity.
Alcatraz does not need to be rebuilt. It needs to be understood. And we — queer, racialized, migrant communities — need to transform that understanding into action: to push back against hateful rhetoric, to protect those still living under threat, and to tell our full stories. Let no one be punished again for being who they are. Let history not become a locked cell once more.
The views expressed in this article are solely my own and do not necessarily reflect those of my employer, colleagues, or any affiliated organization. They are shared from a personal perspective shaped by lived experience and advocacy work.
Opinions
Not all trans people are the same
Media, activists need to do more to challenge stereotypes
It’s interesting how the mainstream media, especially the conservative part of it, likes to write about transgender subculture when they should speak up about trans people.
How often do you see mentions of blue or purple hair, Marxism, specific clothing styles and ecology when you see a mention of a trans person?
It happens more often than it should. It looks like the mainstream media, even the ones that don’t demonise us, sincerely believe that being trans means sharing a whole bunch of characteristics that have nothing to do with having a gender identity different from the one that was assigned at birth.
Here are four reasons why it may create problems, and what to do about them.
1. A subculture idea
The assumption that being trans is part of a subculture creates a very specific kind of discrimination, because the mainstream audience who read those stories sincerely believes that being trans is a personal choice or a trend in the same way as being a K-pop fan, a goth, or a metalhead. It basically means that being trans is nothing more than a trend, and trends, as we all know, can change. People who believe in this idea are more likely to speak about “gender ideology” and “propaganda trends” and less likely to listen to scientists and studies around trans issues, or to different experiences of what it means to be trans.
Even if trans people made a choice to be trans, they shouldn’t be discriminated against. In a democratic, free country, no one should be punished for choosing what to do with their body. And hate for subcultures is a real thing that leads to violence. But the problem is that, despite there being a trans subculture, most trans people are statistically not part of it. But where are they in activism?
2. Misleading about goals
Let’s be honest. We are partly to blame for this stereotype. And before you stop reading, let’s just think about the topics most people discuss before the average protest or radical Pride event. Or let’s imagine trans-friendly events. They are mostly leftist, and people at these events share the exact same interests, hobbies, and political positions.
At my last protest about the new draconian Equality and Human Rights Commission guidelines in the U.K. that say trans people can only use public places according to the sex assigned to them at birth, we were speaking about anything else. For example, some speeches were about abolishing “bourgeois democracy,” speaking up for socialist revolution, and saying some other things I definitely couldn’t support.
I’m not against socialism, but I’m against the idea that all trans people are socialists. That is inherently misleading, at best, and harmful, at worst. I support universal basic income and free healthcare, but not revolution or Marxist reform. If I were a cis person who generally supported trans rights but knew too well about the Russian Revolution of 1917 and how it ended for indigenous people and queer people, if I were a bystander, I wouldn’t stop at a protest like that. I probably wouldn’t even believe that the situation is as bad as they are saying.
There is nothing bad about inviting a socialist speaker. The problem begins when all trans events become socialist events. Those protests don’t look like protests for trans rights – they look like protests for socialist revolution or just like a rebel teens gathering.
3. Self-fulfilling prophecy
At the protest I mentioned and at other similar protests, including the ones from the U.S. I saw online, there weren’t a lot of “traditionally” trans people — the ones you may have been able to see in old TV programs about trans experiences, where trans people were presented to be more gender-conforming.
Most activists are young, white, poor but not extremely poor, citizens of the country where they are living, gender-non-conforming, leftist, and non-religious. They like trans horror, drag queen shows, drawing and reading MfM romantasy. And despite the fact that I just finished writing my own trans horror novel, I wonder — where are the other trans people? With different hobbies and lifestyles?
Where are all those “traditional” trans women from old TV shows who like make-up and want to give birth to kids if only it was possible, and trans men who like to spend their time drinking beer in pubs and going to the gym with their bros? I think we need them more than we think. They may give new ideas and perspectives. And they need us.
Why don’t we see them? Why do we see so few trans refugees who came from Middle Eastern, Asian, and African countries? May they be triggered by the world then because the U.S. had the worst dictatorship on the planet, or that the U.K. is a fascist country when they saw something worse than the British government or even MAGA? For some trans person who survived Bashar al-Assad in the Syrian government or fled Eastern Turkestan, such slogans would feel like gaslighting — and I knew because I met many refugees.
Why, finally, do so many trans activists have similar clothing styles, similar interests, and similar experiences?
Because it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. When trans activists create this kind of culture, they accidentally gatekeep all other trans people who may feel less comfortable within a subculture that has its own rules, style, and ideology, even if none of those things have anything to do with being trans.
4. Media misrepresentation
When the media — conservative and not very conservative — sees the same thing, it doesn’t matter if we are speaking about a trans man who is traditionally masculine and wants a traditional family, or if we are speaking about soft, nice gay boys who happen to promote socialist revolution like many modern stereotypical trans activists. It is equally misleading.
I hate the idea that we need to pretend to be more convenient and normal in order to be accepted by society, because society has never worked that way. But pretending to be accepted by the community is no better.
Trans people are different — and sometimes problematic — and despite the core of activist trans culture, we can have some distinctions when we speak with the media. We should never try to tell people that all trans people are similar.
Now, when trans rights are under attack, it is more important than ever to show that all trans people are just people. We are different, like everyone else. We have our rights, even if we are wrong. Even if we are ugly. Or struggle with inner transphobia. Or some of us internalise traditional roles, or; the opposite, too weird for any culture and subculture. We can make mistakes. But we are not a political party or a monolithic group. Being trans is not a lifestyle, because we have different lifestyles.
Trans kids need to see that they can be whoever they are and still be true, real trans people. And the media should always be questioned when they try to push all trans people into the frame of a subculture.
But to do so, we need to look at our activism and at the representation we are creating.
Opinions
Black Educated Lesbians: A movement rooted in community
Organization’s annual conference is part of a much larger mission
When people hear the word “conference,” they often imagine a weekend event that begins on Friday and ends on Sunday. For Black Educated Lesbians (BEL), our annual conference is only one part of a much larger mission.
BEL was founded because Black lesbians deserve spaces intentionally created with us in mind. Too often, we are overlooked in conversations about health, leadership, philanthropy, education, and community. We exist at the intersection of multiple identities, yet organizations and institutions frequently assume our needs are being met by broader groups. Our lived experiences tell a different story.
BEL is a national nonprofit organization dedicated to creating opportunities for Black lesbians and Black queer women through leadership development, wellness programming, research, education, and community building. While our conference has become one of the few events in the country centered specifically on Black lesbians, our work continues year-round.
Throughout the year, BEL hosts virtual wellness sessions, leadership development opportunities, financial education workshops, community discussions, and mentorship programs designed to help our members thrive personally and professionally. We are also investing in the next generation through our EmpowerHER initiative, connecting Black queer youth with mentors, resources, and leadership opportunities.
Research is another critical part of our work. We are committed to ensuring Black lesbian voices are included in conversations about healthcare, mental health, economic opportunity, and overall well-being. Data drives policy, funding, and services. If our experiences are absent from the research, our needs often remain invisible.
Our annual conference, taking place Sept. 18–20 in Hapeville, Ga., brings this mission to life. Attendees will participate in conversations about physical and mental health, healthy relationships, financial literacy, entrepreneurship, leadership, aging, women’s health, and sexual wellness. The conference also creates opportunities to build meaningful relationships, support Black-owned businesses, and connect with professionals and organizations that understand our community.
Creating spaces like this is not easy. As a small nonprofit, every workshop, meal, scholarship, and resource requires fundraising, partnerships, and countless volunteer hours. Yet we continue because our community deserves spaces where they can simply exist, learn, heal, and grow without explanation.
What makes BEL unique is not simply that we serve Black lesbians. It is that Black lesbians lead every aspect of our organization. We understand the importance of creating programs that reflect our lived experiences rather than asking our community to fit into spaces never designed for them.
Community is not built during moments of crisis. It is built through consistent investment, authentic relationships, and showing up year after year. That is the work BEL is committed to doing.
Whether someone joins us as an attendee, sponsor, volunteer, donor, or community partner, they become part of something much larger than a conference. They become part of a movement dedicated to ensuring Black lesbians are seen, heard, valued, and supported.
As we prepare to welcome attendees from across the country this September, we invite readers to learn more about BEL, support our mission, and help us continue building spaces where Black lesbians don’t just survive, they thrive.
LaJoya Johnson is founder and executive director of Black Educated Lesbians, a national nonprofit dedicated to advancing leadership, wellness, and education for Black lesbians and Black queer women.
Opinions
I respect AOC, even though I often disagree with her
She should work toward House leadership role and skip presidential run
There is a column in the New York Times asking, “Is Ocasio-Cortez ready for the glass cliff?” The author thinks it’s a great idea for her to run for president. I believe it’s a bad idea for her personally, and a disastrous idea for the Democratic Party. However, that is not the only column written recently about Ocasio-Cortez, discussing her options and private life. I think it is cringeworthy what social media, and even some mainstream media, are focusing on these days.
Politicians have become fodder for what were once just stories about Hollywood, and loud showmen like the felon in the White House. Now, like the showman, those like AOC, can’t claim they aren’t asking for it by striving for the biggest online following possible. They obviously see that as a way to validate themselves; politicians use it as a way to raise money, become influencers, and get their message out.
But they also open themselves up to even more intrusion into their private lives. Those who do that also open the door for all politicians to have their private lives made public. Running for president, which the column suggests AOC should do, and which she herself has said she isn’t ruling out, is a great way to grab a headline, and leads to reporters digging to find every little fact about her. AOC is trying to get ahead of the curve by talking about a breakup, and then about harvesting her eggs — topics once considered private that should stay that way. There was once just the National Enquirer, but today every news outlet incorporates what the Enquirer did, as it makes for great clickbait.
I feel for her, thinking all this has to be public, when a single woman wants to run for higher office. We have seen married women, including Geraldine Ferraro, Sarah Palin, Hillary Clinton, and Kamala Harris, run and be subjected to dealing with questions about their husbands, their former boyfriends, and in some cases, more reporting about those things than what they stood for. Maybe for AOC, that would be a good thing, as the country is far from ready for a candidate who up until now, proudly represents the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA). Yes, she is trying to step away from them a little, but I don’t think that is possible, which is why I feel it is a disaster for her to run, both for herself, and the Democratic Party. She could decide to run for the Senate if Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) understands it is time for him to retire. Even that could be a difficult race. She might win a primary, which another progressive representative, Bella S. Abzug (D-N.Y.), tried and lost in 1976, if she gets a big enough New York City vote. Should she try, we would see how much change there has actually been.
Back when JFK had women in and out of the White House, Ronald Reagan got Nancy pregnant before they married, and George H.W. Bush allegedly had a mistress traveling with him, those were not the headlines. I think we were all better off. Gary Hart asked for it when he told the press to follow him, and they caught him with a woman not his wife. Again, he asked for that. Then we got to the Clinton era and the right wing, actually David Brock, got the information on Paula Jones, and it all exploded, eventually cascading down to harm Hillary. They tried to find anything they could on Jimmy Carter, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama, but couldn’t find the salacious bits they were looking for. But I bet they will find some things that sound salacious on AOC, even if they have to make them up. She appears to be a normal, highly intelligent, motivated, single woman.
Recent primaries in Michigan and Wisconsin, and general election results, will clearly impact what she decides to do. DSA candidates are not an easy sell to most Democrats, let alone the general electorate. We will find out how Dr. El-Sayed does in the general election. While I didn’t support him in the primary, I do in the general election. Those results, and looking back at other women who have run, may give AOC second thoughts about giving up working toward seniority in the House. I predict she could be much more impactful than one of her idols, Bernie Sanders, has been. He has been there for 40 years and accomplished nothing. I think AOC could accomplish a lot.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
