Actor Guillermo Diaz has been working hard in the entertainment industry for over three decades. Proud of his heritage and queer identity, he has broken through many glass ceilings to have a prolific career that includes tentpole moments such as roles in the films Party Girl, Half Baked, and Bros, and in major TV shows like Weeds and Scandal, and even in a Britney Spears music video. This season, he made his feature-length directorial debut with the film Dear Luke, Love Me.

In an intimate sit-down with the Blade, Diaz shares that he attributes a lot of his success to his Cuban upbringing.

“Well, it prepared me to learn how to lie really well and be a good actor because it was a lot of acting like you were straight, back in the eighties and nineties (laugh). Another thing I learned from my Cuban immigrant parents is that they work super hard. They both had two jobs; we were latchkey kids, and I just saw them constantly working and wanting to provide for us by any means. So that was super instilled in me. That was the one thing that really stuck out that I admire and respect.”

Besides Diaz’s recurring roles on TV, his resume includes appearances in just about every genre of programming out there. If there is a major show out there, he was probably on it. Law and Order, Girls, The Closer, Chappelle’s Show, ER, Party of Five, and the list goes on. He’s accomplished more in his career thus far than most actors do in a lifetime. There is no doubt he is a hard worker.

“It’s a sign that I just loved to work, and it’s funny looking back at it now because you see all those things, but at the time it was just the next gig, the next job.  I was just wanting to keep working and acting and learning and doing all that stuff. Then it sort of accumulates, and you look back and you’re like, damn! That’s a lot of stuff!”

Acting was never on Diaz’s radar until he was asked to fill in for a friend in a Beastie Boys medley for a talent show when he was a sophomore in high school.

“I did it and fell in love with it. I was teased a lot in high school. Then, when I did that performance, all those people who teased me were like, you were so great! So I looked at it initially as a thing of like, oh, this is where I’m accepted and people like me when I’m on stage. It’s kind of sad, too, because that’s what I latched onto. And then of course, I fell in love with the craft and performing and acting, but that initial rush was because all these people who were messing with me and teasing me all of a sudden liked me. And I was like, this is what I have to do.”

Little did Diaz know that he would break the mold when it came to stereotypical casting. When he first hit the industry, diversity and positive representation were not a thing in Hollywood.

“You just kind of accepted at the time. It was the early nineties. 90% of the time, it was playing a thug or a gun dealer, or a crack head – it was all bad guys, negative characters. But it was either that or not act and not be in anything. So you just kind of accept it, and then you have this sort of vision or hope that in the future it’s going to get better.

Diaz’s management was trepidatious about him playing gay roles for fear of being typecast. But Diaz did play a handful of gay roles early on, although he passed on But I’m A Cheerleader, which went on to become a gay cult classic. Diaz decided early on that he was not going to hide his sexuality. Diaz appeared in the film Stonewall. That was the defining point for him in sharing his identity.

“Being cast in that historical sort of dramatization of the 1969 Stonewall riots – I couldn’t believe I was in the midst that I was in the middle of doing this and playing the lead drag queen on the film. I just felt so honored, and I knew it was important, and I knew I needed to do a really good job. I thought, what a special moment this is. And it kicked my ass shooting that movie.

I remember after doing Stonewall, people saying, well, now you’re either going to have to make a choice if you’re going to lie, or if you’re going to just be honest, and you’re going to have to be out from now on if you’re going to be honest. And I was like, I’m not going to freaking lie. When they’d asked me, I would say I was gay. I think because I never tried to hide it, it didn’t become a thing. So people just kind of ignored it. It didn’t mess with me or my career. I don’t know. Or I just got lucky. I don’t freaking know.”

As a queer, Latin actor, Diaz is all too aware of what is happening politically and socially in the world towards minority communities. Does he think actors have a place in politics?

“For sure. I mean, we’re people first, right? Like, I hate when people sort of are like, oh, you’re an actor, shut up. I’m super political and outspoken, and I’m that guy who will say shit. I’m on the right side of history, at least. I’m not being complicit and silent. So, yeah, I think actors for sure have a place in politics. Absolutely.”

While directing was on Diaz’s radar, it wasn’t something that he was actively searching out. But as life would have it, his friend Mallie McCown sent him her script for Dear Luke, Love Me, a film she would play the lead in. Diaz was hooked.

“It was one of those scripts that I had to keep putting down every like 20 pages. I would put it down because I didn’t want it to end. It was so good. Originally, I was just going to come on as a producer of the film, and then the director dropped out, and then Mallie asked me if I was interested in directing. I was scared as shit. I had never directed a feature film. But I was like, it’s now or never.”

The film covers a decade of the friendship between Penny and Luke, covering themes of platonic love, asexuality, co-dependence, and self-identity. With most of the film focusing on just the two leads, Diaz has crafted an intimate and raw film. What is his message with the film?

“That love is complicated, but it’s beautiful and rewarding and worth all the heartache. I believe that. I don’t want to give away too much in the film either, but I think everyone can relate to it because there’s heartache and there’s pain, and there’s beauty and there’s love.”

And in looking at his past work and in looking toward his future career, what kind of legacy does Diaz want to build?

“That I broke some ground, that I knocked down some walls as an artist; I’m hoping that made a difference. It’s funny because when you’re in it, you’re not thinking about all this stuff that could possibly pave the way for other people. You’re just kind of moving along and living your life. But yeah, I would hope that I broke down some walls as a queer Latino.

I hope that people can sort of get something out of me trying to live as authentically as I can, just being my queer self. Hopefully, that helps someone along who is having some troubles being accepted or being comfortable with who they are.”

Most LGBTQ+ people see being outed as one of the worst things possible. For YouTuber, comedian, and director Breanne Williamson, she saw it as an opportunity. 

“I started hearing around town that people were saying I was a lesbian,” said Breanne, when she sat down with the Los Angeles Blade to speak about her newest project, Basement 51. “That was really frustrating to me, because as much as I was stressed about coming out, I also wanted it to be in my own words and my own story! So, I decided to upload a video to YouTube called ‘Coming Out’…and the rest is history.” A history that has been filled with more than 12 million views and almost 100K subscribers, as Williamson has risen to become one of the platform’s biggest queer creators.

What began as a rebellious video reclaiming her narrative has become a lifelong career; not only have Breanne’s short films Coming Out and Aging Out racked up millions of views, but her lengthy acting portfolio and regular stand-up performances have established her as one of Vancouver’s rising comedy stars. She spoke to the Los Angeles Blade about her new projects and the struggles that always accompany getting a piece of media off the ground — struggles that have only gotten worse in 2025.

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Despite not living in the United States (a fact that many people would call an asset to this performer), Breanne has still been forced to contend with increasing hatred online. “We’re starting to roll back support for queer media,” explained Williamson. “I think back to funding Aging Out a couple of years ago and the amount of businesses down to jump on board — in hindsight, maybe [they were] trying to get that checkmark to say, ‘I support something that’s [gay]!’ But now…it’s a lot of nos, a lot of walls, a lot of, ‘I don’t know if we want to be associated with that right now.” 

Recent months have seen the struggles that have always existed for LGBTQ+ creatives get even worse. For years, the entertainment industry has been a treacherous space for new artists; a growing emphasis on multi-million dollar movies and shows has left producers unwilling to take a chance on new ideas. It’s an ever-present issue that has always been even more difficult for marginalized performers like Williamson…lucky for everyone, Breanne and the many artists like her aren’t backing down. 

“It’s [all] about uplifting one another,” She said, when describing the many ways her fellow performers have been helping crowdfund and raise awareness about each other’s work. “Amongst my peers, we’re really feeling the need to support one another’s projects more now than ever.” Breanne was lucky to find a place in this supportive, thoroughly LGBTQ+ community early into her career, a group that has only become more vocal in the face of rising bigotry online. It’s because of them that she’s created so many projects that embody queer culture — namely, how thoroughly awkward it can be. 

Whether it’s coming out over the course of years or discovering at 30 that you’re older than half the people at any given gay bar, Williamson has always captured the hilarious (and often extremely uncomfortable) sapphic experience through her projects. 

“Each character is probably six people in my life, myself included,” she said, when discussing how she imbues every project with the realities of herself and other queer women like her. “When I write, there’s obviously truth to every character and story…like in Aging Out, which is a sapphic rom com, there’s a messy makeout scene in the bathroom of a gay bar — [which was] very much an experience I had that I knew needed to make it in the film!” She laughed at the memory while detailing how it’s scenes like this that really resonate with queer viewers. While simple inclusion is always an asset to the LGBTQ+ community, we’re beyond trying to teach people that being gay is okay. To truly connect with the marginalized folks in her audience, Breanne surmises, you have to recognize the countless awkward, funny, gross, embarrassing, and unpleasant yet nostalgic emotions that make up being LGBTQ+ in the modern day. She has always tried her hardest to bring that level of authenticity to every story…even if those stories happen to be set during an alien invasion. 

Basement 51 is Breanne’s newest project, a YouTube web series that sees a lesbian comedian get stuck with her coworkers (and former partner) during an alien invasion. As witty as it is jaw-droppingly wild, Williamson balances the utter chaos of this premise with the grueling experience of being forced to share space with your ex-girlfriend (who you may or may not still have feelings for). While the project is a funny enough metaphor on its own about the abject terror of trying to make it in comedy, above all else, Breanne just wanted to make something for people to laugh at. “At the end of the day, the project is something that I want people to be able to click on and find an escape [from] everything that’s going on in today’s world — to have a laugh.”

It’s a sentiment that has carried the director throughout her career. She stressed how affirming and fulfilling it’s been making the LGBTQ+ media that she never saw as a child, and why people shouldn’t be afraid to do the same today — in fact, they need to. She encourages others not to feel discouraged by the people attacking queer art today and to instead show them that our communities can never be silenced. Of course, this is so much easier said than done, but to everyone nervous about sharing their stories, Breanne ended her interview with some warm advice:

“Set the camera up, and just get going…if you wait and wait for the perfect project, you’re going to be waiting forever. [You’ll look back] and wish you did things differently, but then the next time, you’ll [actually] do those things differently and [improve]. It’s all a learning experience — you’ve just got to go for it.”

According to writer/director Ira Sachs, “Peter Hujar’s Day” is “a film about what it is to be an artist among artists in a city where no one was making any money.” At least, that’s what Sachs – an Indie filmmaker who has been exploring his identities as both a gay and Jewish man onscreen since his 1997 debut effort, “The Delta” – told IndieWire, with tongue no doubt firmly planted in cheek, in an interview last year.

Certainly, money is a concern in his latest effort – which re-enacts a 1974 interview between photographer Peter Hujar (Ben Whishaw) and writer Linda Rosenkrantz (Rebecca Hall), as part of an intended book documenting artists over a single 24-hour period in their lives – and is much on the mind of its titular character as he dutifully (and with meticulous detail) recounts the events of his previous day during the course of the movie. To say it is the whole point, though, is clearly an overstatement. Indeed, hearing discussions today of prices from 1974 – when the notion of paying more than $7 for Chinese takeout in New York City seemed outrageous – might almost be described as little more than comic relief.

Adapted from a real-life interview with Hujar, which Rosenkrantz published as a stand-alone piece in 2021 (her intended book had been abandoned) after a transcript was discovered in the late photographer’s archives, “Peter Hujar’s Day” inevitably delivers insights on its subject – a deeply influential figure in New York culture of the seventies and eighties, who would go on to document the scourge of AIDS until he died from it himself, in 1987. There’s no plot, really, except for the recalled narrative itself, which involves an early meeting with a French journalist who is picking up Hujar’s images of model Lauren Hutton, an afternoon photo shoot with iconic queer “Beat Generation” poet/activist Allen Ginsburg, and an evening of mundane social interaction over the aforementioned Chinese food. Yet it’s through this formalized structure – the agreed-upon relation of a sequence of events, with the thoughts, observations, and reflections that come with them – that the true substance shines through.

In relaying his narrative, Hujar exhibits the kind of uncompromising – and slavishly precise – devotion to detail that also informed his work as a photographer; a mundane chronology of events reveals a universe of thought, perception, and philosophy of which most of us might be unaware while they were happening. Yet he and Rosenkrantz (at least in Sachs’ reconstruction of their conversation) are both artists who are keenly aware of such things; after all, it’s this glimpse of an “inner life” of which we are rarely cognizant in the moment that was/is their stock-in-trade. It’s the stuff we don’t think of while we’re living our lives – the associations, the judgments, the selective importance with which we assign each aspect of our experiences –  that later becomes a window into our souls, if we take the opportunity to look through it. And while the revelations that come may occasionally paint them in a less-than-idealized light (especially Hujar, whose preoccupations with status, reputation, appearances, and yes, money, often emerge as he discusses the encounter with Ginsberg and his other interactions), they never feel like definitive interpretations of character; rather, they’re just fleeting moments among all the others, temporary reflections in the ever-ongoing evolution of a lifetime.

Needless to say, perhaps, “Peter Hujar’s Day” is not the kind of movie that will be a crowd-pleaser for everyone. Like Louis Malle’s equally acclaimed-and-notorious “My Dinner With Andre” from 1981, it’s essentially an action-free narrative comprised entirely of a conversation between two people; nothing really happens, per se, except for what we hear described in Hujar’s description of his day, and even that is more or less devoid of any real dramatic weight. But for those with the taste for such an intellectual exercise, it’s a rich and complex cinematic tapestry that rewards our patience with a trove of deep observations about art, life, and friendship – indeed, while its focus is ostensibly on Hujar’s “day,” the deep and intimate love between he and Rosenkrantz underscores everything that we see, arguably landing with a much deeper resonance than anything that is ever spoken out loud during the course of the film – and never permits our attention to flag for even a moment.

Shooting his movie in a deliberately self-referential style, Sachs weaves the cinematic process of recreating the interview into the recreation itself, bridging mediums and blurring lines of reality to create a filmed meditation that mirrors the inherent artifice of Rosenkrantz’s original concept, yet honors the material’s nearly slavish devotion to the mundane minutiae that makes up daily life, even for artists. This is especially true for both Hujar and Rosenkrantz, whose work hinges so directly to the experience of the moment – in photography, the entire end product is tied to the immediacy of a single, captured fragment of existence, and it is no less so for a writer attempting to create a portrait (of sorts) composed entirely of fleeting words and memories. Such intangibles can often feel remote or even superficial without further reflection, and the fact that Sachs is able to reveal a deeper world beyond that surface speaks volumes to his own abilities as an artist, which he deploys with a sure hand to turn a potentially stagnant 75 minutes of film into something hypnotic.

Of course, he could not accomplish that feat without his actors. Whishaw, who has proven his gifts and versatility in an array of film work including not only “art films” like this one but roles from the voice of Paddington Bear to “Q” in the Daniel Craig-led “James Bond” films, delivers a stunning performance, carrying at least 75% of the film’s dialogue with the same kind of casual, in-the-moment authenticity as one might expect at a dinner party with friends; and though Hall has less speaking to do, she makes up for it in sheer presence, lending a palpable sense of respect, love, and adoration to Rosenkrantz’s relationship with Hujar.

In fact, by the time the final credits role, it’s that relationship that arguably leaves the deepest impression on us; though these two people converse about the “hoi polloi” of New York, dropping legendary names and reminding us with every word of their importance in the interwoven cultural landscape of their era, it’s the tangible, intimate friendship they share that sticks with us, and ultimately feels more important than any of the rest of it. For all its trappings of artistic style, form, and retrospective cultural commentary, it’s this simple, deeply human element that seems to matter the most – and that’s why it all works, in the end. None of its insights or observations would land without that simple-but-crucial link to humanity.

Fortunately, its director and stars understand this perfectly, and that’s why “Peter Hujar’s Day” has an appeal that transcends its rarified portrait of time, place, and personality. It recognizes that it’s what can be read between the lines of our lives that matters, and that’s an insight that’s often lost in the whirlwind of our quotidian existence.

Boxing movies have often been used as vehicles for actors to show what they’ve really got with a transformative, meaty performance. Like music biopics, they can often be constrained by a strict adherence to formula, but in honoring the real-life boxer Christy Hall’s personal story of resilience and survival, director David Michôd (The King) gives Euphoria star Sydney Sweeney the gift of a role in Christy.

The film, the first U.S. release by distribution label Black Bear Pictures, starts off by not shying away from Christy’s queerness, as her quiet, conservative family — mainly her mother played by a never-more-evil Merritt Wever in a bad wig (Marriage Story) — gives her the option of either getting help and stop seeing girls or not receiving any more rent money. Yearning for independence, Christy falls into boxing almost by accident after a break-up, and after quickly falling in love with its raw physicality, finds herself on the forefront of women’s boxing as a sport in the ‘90s. But in marrying her trainer James (Ben Foster), she quickly sublimates her true identity into a hard-as-rock persona. When asked questions by the press about increasing women’s pay and advocating for her fellow boxers, Christy makes it known that she’s not a feminist by nature, throwing out gay slurs just to make the point extra clear.

In the background, away from prying cameras, Christy’s relationship with James grows increasingly volatile. The violence is initially shown offscreen, leaving Christy’s screaming cries for help echoing through her empty home. But eventually, Christy — and the audience — is forced to confront the darkness that lies in plain sight. Michôd and Mirrah Foulkes’ screenplay can’t quite convince us why a man like James has such strong connections to the boxing world, including promoter Don King (Chad L. Coleman). However, it does a good enough job at setting up why Christy sadly finds herself trapped in an abusive relationship.

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Ultimately, Christy is a decent boxing movie elevated by a much stronger directed second half where violence unexpectedly takes center stage. This is also where Sweeney’s performance kicks into another gear — watching the life drain from her eyes as she contemplates leaving James, struggling to find her own identity, and realizing that she can’t even turn to her own family. It’s full of complexity that the actor has rarely been able to display with previous roles. The physicality of watching Sweeney in the ring is certainly impressive, too, but it’s also what viewers have come to expect in this specific sub-genre of sports movies. Alongside Sweeney, Foster is an unsettling force of nature here and gives another impressively evil performance.

While the boxing scenes are mostly standard practice, Michôd directs a few key moments and montages with invigorating energy, painting a visceral picture of what Christy’s boxing represented for her as she grows distant from her family and friends. So when a different kind of violence takes center stage, Michôd is able to pull back and let nearly entirely silent scenes play out with terrifying realism. Less is more.

The second half of Christy is also made more interesting by the collision of Christy’s queerness and her coming to terms with not seeing love for women as adversarial to her work in the ring. There’s a tender relationship that blossoms with Lisa Holewyne (Katy O’Brian) and Rosie (Jess Gabor), who Christy confides in as a safety net when she hides away in a hotel room, although these characters feel slightly underdeveloped. The film could’ve benefitted from showing more juxtaposition between the persona that Christy develops and her own self during private moments, and the initial storyline teasing Christy versus her female opponents can feel repetitive.

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Beyond some of the awards buzz that Sydney has garnered for her performance, however, Christy should be remembered for what it spotlights about domestic abuse and violence through Christy Hall’s unbelievable story. So for viewers interested in checking it out, it definitely deserves a content warning, and even if it doesn’t fully escape the trappings of boxing biopics, it’s got more up its sleeve than most.

As someone who’s built a life traveling the world, curating Queer stories, from mountain peaks to bustling city streets, I can confidently say there’s nowhere on Earth quite like Honolulu during Pride. Honolulu Pride 2025 was not just a party; it was a luminous, ripe-with-mana celebration of identity, culture, and resilience, inviting you to dive deeper than the glitter into the soul of aloha.

This was my third time returning to Oʻahu for Pride, and each visit reminds me how deeply acceptance runs through the island’s veins. The roots of Queer identity in Hawaiʻi stretch far beyond the modern movement. In pre-colonial Hawaiʻi, the role of the māhū  (individuals who embody both male and female spirits, existing beyond Western binaries) was sacred and celebrated. Today, that tradition is not only being reclaimed but woven beautifully into the tapestry of modern Queer Hawaiian identity. Here, you can be exactly who you are. No filter, no fear, just pure authenticity met with aloha.

Leading with Love and Legacy

I had the chance to connect with Randy Soriano, Executive Director of the Hawaiʻi LGBT Legacy Foundation, the powerhouse behind Honolulu Pride and the LGBTQ Center Honolulu. “We’re the foundation that puts on Pride,” Randy told me, “but we also create programming year-round to make sure Queer folks have safe spaces and community every single day.”

At a time when LGBTQ+ rights are under fire across the globe, yes, even here in paradise, the Foundation combats hate with aloha, not anger. Randy shared that each Pride month begins with Kapaemahu Nā Pōhaku Ola, an opening ceremony honoring two-spirit and māhū people at the sacred Kapaemahu stones on Waikīkī Beach. “It’s wildly attended,” he said, “and reminds us where we come from, that Queer people have always existed here.”

Throughout the year, their programs go far beyond the festival, from Queer women’s initiatives to youth outreach to trans resource development. 

The Theme: Ho‘omau – To Persevere

The 2025 Pride theme, Ho‘omau, means “to persevere with resilience,” and it couldn’t be more fitting. This year’s Pride was a full-on embodiment of that word. Despite the noise of global backlash, Honolulu stood tall in celebration and defiance. The parade was met with nothing but love and aloha, stretching down Kalākaua Avenue in a sea of rainbows, flags, and fierce joy.

Mainstage talent? Honey, it was a full-on drag dynasty. RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars legend Jewels Sparkles lit the stage on fire, and Kornbread “The Snack” Jeté, Miss Congeniality herself, brought the house down. Between the iconic Alaska Airlines x Hawaiian Airlines Brunch (seeing two major carriers show up for the community? 10s across the board!) and the energy radiating through the crowd, it was clear: resilience is woven into Honolulu’s very fabric.

RAVI’S RAVES: The Honolulu Edition

The backdrop? DIVINE. Honolulu is one of those rare places where the views are as breathtaking as the community is welcoming.

Hike Diamond Head – the views are epic, but trust me, bring that sunscreen.
Clothing-Optional Beach – right below Diamond Head. It’s giving liberation and vitamin sea.
Kapuawaa Experiences – get out on the water for traditional canoe surfing and feel the power of connection to land and ocean.

Queer Nightlife Musts:

• In Between – Cute hole in the wall karaoke bar
• Bacchus – Community-driven, cozy, and full of familiar faces.
• Hula’s – People-watching heaven with live music and ocean views.
• Scarlet Honolulu – Drag, lights, sweat, glitter. ICONIC.
  

Where to Stay

My pick? Kaimana Beach Hotel. Locally owned, beachfront, and dripping in chic island luxury. With Diamond Head at your back and the Pacific sparkling at your feet, it’s paradise personified. The onsite restaurant, Hau Tree, serves up next-level brunch (order the ube cinnamon roll and thank me later) and transforms into the perfect spot for date night or a solo sunset cocktail. It’s a vibe with equal parts elegance, authenticity, and ease.

The Soul of Pride

Honolulu is more than a destination; it’s a heartbeat. A place where Queer joy meets cultural respect, and where ancient wisdom blends with modern resistance. It’s a reminder that Pride isn’t just about being seen; it’s about seeing, honoring those who came before us, uplifting those beside us, and paving the way for those who will come next.

Honolulu Pride 2025 was a call to remember our roots, to persevere with pride, and to lead with love. As the waves crashed beyond the parade and the last float rolled past, I felt it again, that indescribable power of Queer aloha.

And if you ask me, the world could use a little more of that right now.

Mahalo, Honolulu. Until next time.

Ravi Roth is an award-winning travel writer, storyteller, and host (most recently) of Bear World TV, spotlighting global LGBTQ+ culture and adventure tourism via @RaviRoundTheWorld.

Season 1 of Open to It made headlines for its unapologetic sex scenes – and for good reason. Everything from the awkward to the pleasurable, and the awkwardly pleasurable, was on full display.

Now, with Season 2 premiering November 6 on OUTtv, creator-star Frank Arthur Smith digs deeper into what intimacy means once the thrill wears off. “Thematically, I wanted to delineate the difference between sex and intimacy this season,” Smith tells the Blade. “Not all sexual encounters are intimate, and not all intimate encounters are sexual.”

And with that, Season 2 starts off differently: the premiere doesn’t include a single sex scene. Smith’s writing takes a different turn this time, keeping the audience right on the edge – fitting for a show built on anticipation. “I felt comfortable being more teasing, or not having everything end with a… well… climax,” he says. Still, he’s quick to reassure fans that the show hasn’t gone celibate: “But listen, sex sells, and Episode 11 is called ‘Open to Naked Parties,’ so I think viewers will be satisfied with how we… finished.”

The new season picks up immediately after the last – no time jump, no reset, just holiday episodes, hair dye, and emotions somehow higher than everyone’s libidos. “I was excited to do several winter holiday episodes this season,” Smith says.

Even without a time jump, Season 2 has its own share of complications. The relationships evolve, the emotions differ, and the production faces the kind of continuity hazards only an LGBTQ+ ensemble comedy could. The hardest part? “Maintaining people’s hairstyles,” Smith laughs, “What’s your favorite Princeton hair color? Frosted tips, blue, bleach blonde, pink, or purple? Vote now!”

That blend of honesty and absurdity is what keeps Open to It so watchable. “I definitely see the show as a comedy,” Smith explains, “but the comedies on which I grew up were standouts like The Golden Girls, where the actresses take the material seriously, even when rattling off a good joke.” It’s that commitment to sincerity – no matter how outrageous the moment – that grounds the show. Smith doesn’t want his cast playing for laughs so much as living in the scene, letting the humor emerge naturally. “Honoring realism over reaction is my North Star in entertainment,” he says.

For a show with some of the wildest storylines, Open to It ends up being surprisingly educational. Culturally, open relationships, polyamory, and ethical non-monogamy still sit on the fringe – most people might joke (wink wink) about wanting a threesome, but might not talk about how those dynamics work. Smith says that’s part of what makes the show resonate: it sneaks empathy in through the comedy. 

“I was totally fine making a queer show for queer people, but I’ve been delighted to find that straight people also get a lot out of the show!” he says. “People learn a lot about gay people generally, and open relationships specifically … And now that we’ve featured our deaf actors more prominently this season, I’m delighted to see how many people come up to me afterwards, and say that queer deaf storylines, especially polyamorous ones, are not a combination they’ve seen before, so they’re pleased to have gotten a different take on the community.”

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Behind the camera, that philosophy holds too. “We are 75% LGBTQIA+ and BIPOC on Open To It, with deaf and hard-of-hearing cast and crew as well,” Smith says. “It made a big difference in how authentic we can be with the show, but also, how empowered we feel to keep telling stories about our community, for all communities.”

Even when Open to It brushes up against politics, it stays rooted in joy. “I’ve always said that the show is about queer joy, and I stand by that. Simply being happy is an act of defiance,” Smith says. Season 2 opens with a more pointed episode – a drag-queen-story-hour protest – but he’s quick to note that moments that move audiences the most aren’t the overtly political ones. “What’s most moving to people is just seeing the guys having fun, and cuddling on the couch.”

That joy carries real weight. When Smith and his husband appeared on Tidying Up with Marie Kondo, fans from more anti-LGBTQ+ countries reached out to thank him for showing a happy gay couple simply existing on screen. “It was rare for them to see a happy gay couple just existing on screen,” he recalls. 

Smith tells the Blade that the show’s cast is wonderful through and through, highlighting the mix of talent that gives Open to It its heart. “Our stars are RuPaul’s Drag Race legends Manila Luzon, Laganja Estranja, Pandora Boxx, and Honey Davenport, actor Matt Rivera, and our influencing icons, the Deafies in Drag,” he says, encouraging viewers to check out their work beyond the show.

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Season 2 is about open hearts, open relationships, and everything in between. And for the mega-fans already looking ahead, Smith teases that Season 3 will feature “a Halloween party gone hilariously, hotly wrong, a reluctant dominatrix in a sex dungeon, and a musicale finale.” Who says happy endings can’t happen more than once?

When it comes to blending humor and hard-earned perspective with a healthy dash of heart, few do it quite like Alec Mapa. Actor, comedian, and self-proclaimed “attention whore” (his words, not mine) has spent decades lighting up screens and stages while using laughter as both a mirror and a megaphone for truth.

This November 8 at Nya West in Los Angeles, Mapa will be honored at NIGHT OUT, Family Equality’s gala celebrating LGBTQ+ families and the many avenues of love that make them thrive. It’s an appropriate recognition for someone like Mapa who’s managed to turn visibility into advocacy.

Equal parts entertainer and family man, we had the chance to sit down with Mapa as he shared with us about the power of being seen, the continued efforts for equality, and how both comedy and fatherhood continue to shape the way he navigates through the world.

You’ve got a big evening coming up with NIGHT OUT hosted by Family Equality this coming November 8th. What does it feel like to be honored not just for the impact you’ve made as an entertainer but also as a parent and family man?

 It feels lovely because I’m an attention whore, and surprisingly, because I never leave the house. To hear that my work or family would have any impact at all is wonderful news.  I’m just here folding the laundry.

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Family Equality has been an impactful force for LGBTQI+ families. What do you think is the most urgent and impactful work they’re doing right now?

 The urgent work to change hearts and minds hasn’t changed one bit. Since 1979, Family Equality’s mission has been to ensure that everyone has the freedom to find, form, and sustain their families by advancing equality for the LGBTQ+ community. The fight for queer rights is like a game of Whack-A-Mole. Just when you think you’ve made some impact, a new generation of bigots pops up. 

With such a diverse and talented group of performers like Monét X Change and Brendan Scannell, how do you think events like NIGHT OUT help showcase the many faces of queer comedy and entertainment?

Performing at queer Hollywood fundraisers is how I met all the queer creators who hired me! Sylvio Horta cast me in Ugly Betty after seeing me perform for the GLAAD awards. Ryan Murphy cast me on Scream Queens after seeing me at Family Equality.  Greg Berlanti cast me in Doom Patrol, but not from a fundraiser; I auditioned.  Still sore about that. 

You are a true Renaissance man, from TV and film to Broadway, stand-up, and voice work. What aspects of your career in the public sphere have influenced your role as a parent?

 I took my kid to every set I worked on and introduced him to every department from wardrobe to craft services because I wanted him to see that being an artist is a real job. 

What has parenthood taught you about yourself that performing never could?

I’m more careful about my words.

Using harsh language on your kids doesn’t make them stop loving you, but they end up loving themselves less. 

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Comedy can be a weapon just as much as it can be a unifying force. How do you approach the balance between pushing boundaries while also creating a connection with your audience?

 I started out on Broadway, so I always want my audience to experience a catharsis-  that sublime release that happens when you laugh all the laughs and feel all the feels. 

From Roseanne and Friends to Jane the Virgin and Scream Queens, you have been representing the entertainment world for a minute. How have you seen queer representation evolve over the span of your career? Is there still room for improvement?

In 2000, I was the first out gay Asian actor to play a gay series regular role on network television. Now, Gaysian superstars like Bowen Yang, Nico Santos, and Joel Kim Booster are smashing it. I feel like a gremlin that someone got wet or fed after midnight.  However, the caste system that centers whiteness is currently in charge, so diversity, equity, and inclusion might go the way of the Dodo. 

You’ve been speaking out and showing up for queer causes for decades. What gives you hope in this current climate? What gives you pause?

What gives me hope is the unstoppable strength, resilience and queer joy of the LGBTQ+ community. No matter how much they try to pave over us, we’re as relentless as a blade of grass bursting through concrete. What scares me is the complete lack of humanity of those in power. 

How do you use comedy to spotlight queer issues, especially at a time when audiences might prefer to “laugh and not think”?

The more specific you are, the more universal you become. I didn’t spotlight queer issues in my Showtime Special “Alec Mapa Baby Daddy” (now streaming on YouTube),  I just spoke honestly about my experience as a married gay Filipino man and the adoption of our son. My new stand-up hour, “The Buttcracker,”  on December 11th at El Cid on Sunset, is all about doing stand-up while I was recovering from prostate cancer. Hilarious. 

Adoption is undoubtedly a transformative way for many LGBTQ+ folks to build families. From your point of view, what is the unique power of adoption in creating families, and how has it shaped the broader narrative of queer parenthood?

Several studies have shown that LGBTQ+ individuals and couples are significantly more likely to adopt or foster children in the foster care system. My friend Stephanie White adopted and raised 7 special needs kids. Jason Cook and his husband adopted 6 kids and kept all siblings intact.  Despite that powerful narrative,  adoption agencies can still legally discriminate against qualified individuals based on sexual orientation or gender identity.  Family Equality sent me to Capitol Hill to lobby on behalf of the “Every Child Deserves a Family Act” to prevent anti LGBTQ+  discrimination in foster care. The Act has still not passed. Whack-A-Mole it is. 

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Join the Los Angeles Blade on Saturday, November 8, in Los Angeles for a special evening of love, laughter, and change-making. Event info here.

Conor McDermott-Mostowy spends close to 40 hours every week on the ice, often training multiple times a day as he gears up to participate in a series of competitions to qualify for the 2026 Winter Olympics. McDermott-Mostowy is on the national long-track speed skating team, and has competed in world championships for the sport since 2017. Most recently, he won silver and bronze medals at the 2025 U.S. Long Track speed skating Championships in Utah.

Soon, he’ll be heading to Canada, the Netherlands, and Norway to compete in the upcoming World Cup circuit before the U.S. Olympic Trials in January. Mcdermott-Mostowy has prepared his whole life for this moment — to hopefully compete in his first-ever Olympics — but his journey is rife with intense financial and emotional pressures, especially as one of the few openly queer athletes in his league. 

“I’m currently the only out man on the World Cup circuit,” McDermott-Mostowy told the Blade. “Especially coming from Salt Lake, which is certainly not the mecca for queer culture…and being in sport…it can be pretty isolating at times.” 

McDermott-Mostowy stopped by West Hollywood on Saturday for a fundraising event at the City’s Nike Training Studio. Organized by Out Athlete Fund, a nonprofit focused on uplifting LGBTQ+ visibility in sports and raising funds for out athletes, as well as Pride House LA/West Hollywood, the official hospitality house for LGBTQ+ athletes at the 2028 Summer Olympics, the event aimed to garner community support and donations to help support McDermott-Mostowy and other queer athletes as they prepare for career-defining competitions.

The event also demystified the belief that professional athletes are lavishly compensated. As McDermott-Mostowy explained in an earlier Blade interview, “the reality is that Olympic sports are not accessible or sustainable for most people…Many world-class and Olympic-caliber athletes earn less than minimum wage while dedicating more than full-time hours to their sport. The nature of training makes it nearly impossible to take on additional work, meaning athletes are often forced to rely on family, fundraising, or personal debt to continue competing.” 

The current political climate also presents other challenges for openly queer athletes. Cyd Ziegler, the co-founder of LGBTQ+ sports news publication Outsports and board member for both Pride House LA/West Hollywood and Out Athlete Fund, recently wrote that “these upcoming 2026 Winter Olympics are in Italy, where another right-wing government is cracking down on the gay community. I don’t have to tell anyone in the LGBTQ community what is going on right here in the United States. That makes supporting Conor, and other out LGBTQ athletes with the potential to compete at these Olympics, that much more poignant.”

McDermott-Mostowy confirmed at Saturday’s event that there has been a “significant pullback” in financial and sponsorship support for queer athletes, creating strain on how he will afford all the components vital to his Olympic journey: the training, travel, gear, nutrition — just to name a few. 

Beyond raising funds, Saturday’s event served as a moment of reprieve and queer gathering for McDermott-Mostowy. West Hollywood city officials including mayor Chelsea Byers arrived to present a certificate of recognition to the athlete, and former competitive figure skaters Randy Gardner, Tai Babilonia and Bobby Beauchamp offered warm words to McDermott-Mostowy, ushering in a new generation of queer excellence at the Winter games.

Currently, McDermott-Mostowy is preparing for the World Cup in Salt Lake City from November 14-16, the first of four World Cups that will lead him to Hamar, Norway in December. As of Nov. 3rd, Out Athlete Fund has raised $16,000 to support McDermott-Mostowy in his road to the Olympics, as confirmed by Pride House LA/West Hollywood board vice president and Out Athlete Fund marketing co-lead Haley Caruso.

Actor Jonathan Bailey made history Monday after he was named People magazine’s first openly gay “Sexiest Man Alive.”

Bailey is known for his starring role in “Wicked,” as well as well-received turns in “Bridgerton” and “Fellow Travelers,” for which he was nominated for an Emmy. He returns to the big screen on Nov. 21 in the “Wicked: For Good” sequel.

Bailey announced the news on the Nov. 3 “Tonight Show” with Jimmy Fallon.

“It’s the honor of a lifetime,” Bailey, 37, said. “I want to say, Jimmy, thank you so much for turning it down so that I could be here.”

Bailey told People, “It’s a huge honor. Obviously I’m incredibly flattered. And it’s completely absurd. It’s been a secret, so I’m quite excited for some friends and family to find out.”

People launched its popular “Sexiest Man Alive” issue in 1985 with inaugural winner Mel Gibson. Last year’s winner was actor John Krasinski.

Bailey came out publicly in 2018 and founded a nonprofit, Shameless Fund, which raises money for LGBTQ+ organizations and issues.

Happy November, my lovelies. And happy birthday to all of my fierce and fiery Scorpio and Sagittarius babes out there! We are moving into the final stretch of the year with tense energy mingling with the strongest sense of community and camaraderie that we have seen in years. So how do we navigate this dichotomy and use it to our advantage? Let’s dive in and find out.

We enter into the month in the last Mercury Retrograde shadow of the year. Mercury officially goes retrograde on November 9th, where he has his messy moment, creating a little chaos for all of us until he stations direct on November 29th. Since this is the last retrograde we will experience with Mercury for 2025, I encourage all of you to use this time to reflect on everything that has transpired for you over the past year…the good, the bad, and the crazy! Take a breath amongst the retrograde chaos and reflect with the purpose of clarity and committing to change that will help you become what you really want. You may be surprised to find that you have walked through a large portion of this year in survival mode with no clear definition of what you are working and fighting toward. This time also provides us with a wonderful space to begin releasing, healing, and tying up the loose ends of 2025. The planetary influence will be perfect in assisting us with this, and getting an early start on the shadow self and personal purge means we get to walk into the new year with a strong and refined sense of power and worth.

A vast majority of the collective is walking into the month with heavy feelings and a sense of loneliness. This is particularly a challenge when we are entering a season that boasts joy, gratitude, and togetherness. You may find it difficult to align yourself with the spirit of the season this year, but quiet moments filled with self-care and self-soothing can absolutely count as acts of gratitude and joy. With that said, we are being challenged to allow ourselves to ask for help and further are challenged to remember that help may not always arrive in the forms we expect. Even in the moments where we feel comfort or even lost in our solitude, there is a healing, safe space among our coven, chosen family, and community. Our mental health, like a garden, is something that continuously needs to be tended to. If this is where you are this month, do you, babe, tend to the beautiful and feral garden that is made up of pieces of you and all of your fierce glory.

A magical tip to take the edge off: bee pollen is known to assist us in tuning in to the “hive mind” around us, heather flowers are a botanical that encourages friendship, and jasmine flowers evoke a sense of self-love and interpersonal soul connection. Take each of these three elements and keep them in a small bag to help you find your way out of the lonely haze and back to yourself and your circle.

On a lighter note, November will be bringing in bustling Venusian energy, meaning we will see an influx of feelings of love (hello, cuffing season) and people living their entrepreneurial dreams. Go cuddle with your latest boo, sling your services to your friend group, and list your goods on Etsy. People are lending loving hands and helpful dollars to those who are shining the brightest, so be on your game and bring it. The year may be ending, and we may feel like the world is ending, but for those who are up for the challenge, there are some sweet and successful roads just opening. To conjure up someone to help keep you warm as it gets cold outside—or if you just want to bask in the rays of good fortune—try wearing oil blends and fragrances that are ruled by Venus, such as rose, cardamom, or apple.

This month is no stranger to challenge, but let’s be real—neither are we. Tend to your emotions, seek safe spaces and connections when you need a boost, and welcome love and success in all forms this month. Happy November, my magical loves.

Shana is an initiated priestess, paranormal investigator, author, and host of the podcast Queer from the Other Side. Follow Shana on IG.