When Nicole Kidman said ‘We come to this place for magic,’ she was referring to queer cinema. 

From John Waters to The Watermelon Woman, since the film industry began, queer artists have used this medium as a way to amplify their stories. This definitely wasn’t an easy task — in fact, for half of the industry’s existence, portraying our communities onscreen would have been considered a felony. Yet these storytellers risked their safety to ensure others had the representation they needed. It’s because of them that viewers today can see their identities in the media, with every project contributing to the ongoing fight for LGBTQ+ rights. 

Each of these early queer artists showed the power that comes from making your dreams a reality (even when you have an entire government telling you to stop). They established a legacy of radical representation in film, one that audiences can see firsthand every year at the OutfestNEXT film festival. 

Founded in 1983, Outfest has always fought to give LGBTQ+ filmmakers the opportunities they’re so often denied. The organization does this in many ways, from educational programs to local screenings, but there’s one event that has come to define their advocacy: OutfestNEXT. An annual film festival for LGBTQ+ films and the people who love them, the LA Blade spoke with Interim Executive Director Christopher Racster as he prepared for the 2026 iteration. He beamed throughout the conversation, excitedly discussing the many projects they’d be screening this year and the surprises his team has in store. He grew more serious as he spoke about the attacks LGBTQ+ media has seen in recent years, but he also wanted to make one thing clear: making queer film has never been easy. 

It has always required a willingness to fight against hatred and a fearless commitment to authentic storytelling. A commitment that the Outfest staff try to embody every single day, especially right now as they prepare to do more for LGBTQ+ creatives than they ever have before. 

“It’s tough to get your film made — it’s tougher when you’re queer,” began Racster, as he spoke about the role Outfest plays for LGBTQ+ artists. “That’s why we continue to invest in filmmaker education and mentoring. Part of our job is to help break down those barriers for you.” It’s an issue marginalized creators know well; social discrimination has always made inclusive filmmaking an uphill battle, one that has only worsened as we’ve seen a rise in hateful rhetoric online and in politics. And especially in 2026, as big studios routinely refuse to take chances on new, diverse voices, it’s becoming harder and harder for underserved artists to make the movies their communities need to see. 

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Enter Outfest, a yearly festival that brings together thousands of queer film aficionados for a deserved spotlight on these LGBTQ+ stories.  Every event promises an exciting lineup of powerful films, and this one is no different; Racster raved about the many features his team was honored to select for the 2026 program. From a time-traveling coming-of-age drama, to a documentary on WNBA player Brittney Griner and her experience as a Russian prisoner, to a mind-bending sex comedy, each offers a unique perspective that viewers couldn’t have experienced otherwise. Christopher spoke excitedly about these and the many other films that would be screened this year, emphasizing how he hopes they’ll move new viewers as much as they’ve moved him. 

And that, the Director emphasized, is at the core of not only this festival, but all of Outfest as an organization: the impact of queer film. 

The past few years have seen an alarming dip in representation, a hate-fueled shift that has left many queer viewers worried. These depictions aren’t only chances for LGBTQ+ people to see their identities onscreen — although that is absolutely vital — but for society at large to better understand communities outside of their own. This is why Racster and all of Outfest work so diligently throughout the year, with the Director explaining, “Queer film has played the role of making people feel safe and seen when the rest of the world is not safe…[so] if people are going to push back, we have to push back harder.” 

“We have to make sure that we are advocating for our storytellers…making sure that we are doing everything we can to afford opportunity for these people, both in front of and behind the screen.”

OutfestNEXT is a powerful tool against these attempts at erasure we’re seeing every day. Christopher Racster spoke about how honored he was to have a hand in creating this influential program, and how Outfest works year-round to assist the artists continuing this fight that early queer filmmakers began so many years ago. Above all else, though, when it came to this festival, Christopher feels that there’s one goal at the center of it, saying, “The real focus for us is joy.”

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“We want to create a space where there is some joy and some celebration, both in terms of the films we’re showing and sharing, but also in terms of that opportunity for everybody to really come together and, you know, be in this safe third space that is about celebrating ourselves and each other.” At that, the man smiled, clearly thinking not only about what’s planned for this upcoming OutfestNEXT, but the many great things he and his team are preparing for after.

“There’s still much more to come throughout the rest of the year…and that’s what makes this job so, so much fun.”

OutfestNEXT 2026 will be held July 23-26 at the Los Angeles LGBT Center Renberg Theater and Micro Cinema. You can get your tickets here.

Since 2009, RuPaul’s Drag Race has been chugging along on a steady incline, from its humble roots as a micro-budget America’s Next Top Model spoof on Logo TV to a fully-fledged franchise on MTV with countless international spinoffs, all-stars seasons, and alumni like Jinkx Monsoon, Bob the Drag Queen, and Trixie Mattel transcending the Drag Race bubble and finding mainstream success. 

From Vegas residencies to international tours to mobile gaming apps, Drag Race has helped the art of drag permeate pop culture through simultaneous internet virality and industry recognition, and the culmination of nearly 20 years of herstory is STOP! THAT! TRAIN!, the first feature film with a cast primarily comprised of drag queens. Though the mile-a-minute gags don’t always land, and strange pacing causes this otherwise high-speed comedy to lose steam, the film is gleefully ridiculous as an unapologetically gay disaster comedy spoofing the likes of The Naked Gun and Airplane!. 

Written by Christina Friel & Connor Wright and directed by Adam Shankman, STOP! THAT! TRAIN! follows best friends/train stewardesses Tess (Ginger Minj) and DeeDee (Jujubee) who leave their dead-end jobs at Stank Rail to join the crew of the Glamazonian Express, much to the chagrin of the first-class crew (Brooke Lynn Hytes, Symone, Marcia Marcia Marcia). When a freak storm threatens to derail the train, Tess and DeeDee join forces with their cliquey coworkers and President Gagwell (RuPaul) to prevent a national catastrophe. 

With more than a dozen main seasons and hundreds of queens to choose from, the potential Drag Race casting pool for STOP! THAT! TRAIN! is massive, and it’s a curious list of names that made the final cut. Leading the charge with boundless charisma and coquettish charm is Jujubee, whose well-meaning but inept DeeDee spends most of the film romancing the train’s hunky assistant conductor Cal (Brian Jordan Alvarez). 

Not as obvious a choice for co-lead is Ginger Minj, who (despite her controversial All Stars 10 win) doesn’t have a particularly large or memorable personality on or off Drag Race. Nonetheless, as the film’s blank canvas, Cady Heron archetype, Minj makes a serviceable (for lack of a better term) straight man. 

Other Drag Race alums with memorable turns include Marcia Marcia Marcia, who shines as the Karen Smith of the Mean Girls trio, while Brooke Lynn Hytes makes a formidably icy Regina George type, and Latrice Royale is a perpetual scene-stealer wherever she pops up. 

Shankman and co. have also assembled a formidable cast of LGBTQ+ or gay-adjacent, non-drag queen celebrities to fill out the ensemble, including Rachel Bloom as the perpetually beleaguered traffic controller/weather analyst Donna Dusk. Jesse Tyler Ferguson, June Diane Raphael, and Sarah Michelle Gellar are standout Glamazonian Express passengers, while the likes of Charo, Matt Rogers, and Joel McHale also deliver in memorable bit parts. 

At the center of it all, though, is RuPaul as the statuesque, pantsuit-clad President Gagwell, whose resolve to steer the country steadfastly through the potential crisis is threatened by her own sordid history with trains. RuPaul, of course, is no stranger to the big screen (with brief but memorable roles in films like  But I’m a Cheerleader and The Brady Bunch Movie), but STOP! THAT! TRAIN! finally puts her front and center, allowing her to flex her (sizable) comedic muscles in a role tailor-written for her, simultaneously commanding yet playful presence. 

Unfortunately, the film isn’t without its flaws – the film’s overall structure is strangely lopsided, frontloading the first half hour with spectacle and leaving the remainder of the runtime to limp along with inconsistent gags. There’s also the issue of the film’s visual effects – Shankman has released a statement addressing the scope of the AI usage following backlash, but it’s nonetheless a disappointing decision, especially for a film made by and for LGBTQ+ artists. 

Still, despite pacing issues and some ill-advised visual effects choices, STOP! THAT! TRAIN! is an undeniable achievement not just for RuPaul and Drag Race, but for the community as a whole. Camp, queer, and utterly stupid, this flick is an instant classic that gives RuPaul her long-overdue star turn on the silver screen.

STOP! THAT! TRAIN! is now streaming on Prime Video, Apple TV, and World of Wonder.

Since I was a teenager, I have liked sci-fi because of the depth with which it explores social issues. At the time, I didn’t know that I was autistic and queer, so I couldn’t see myself in other autistic and queer people. Instead, I saw myself in androids, mutants, telepaths, and sometimes aliens who were portrayed as minorities persecuted by the human majority. It was a universal language for talking about alienation, systemic discrimination, conversion therapy, segregation, and internalized self-hatred.

Now, when so many sci-fi stories are being criticized online as “woke,” it seems weird for me. This is especially true when we are talking about franchises, such as the British TV series “Doctor Who” and American franchise “Star Trek,” both of which have always been remarkably progressive by the standards of their own time. 

Let’s take a closer look at “Doctor Who.”

In June 2026, the BBC cancelled the planned Christmas special, saying that viewers would have to wait longer for the next season after internal studio issues, and now the BBC is looking for new production partners. “Doctor Who” is the longest-running science fiction television series in the world, originally airing from 1963 to 1989 before returning in 2005. The future of the franchise is currently unclear, and many people online immediately began blaming “wokeness” for what had happened to their favorite show.

After all, the Doctor, an alien Time Lord who can regenerate and literally change faces, had traditionally been played by white men. But the last, Fifteenth Doctor was played by Ncuti Gatwa, a Black Scottish-Rwandan actor who has publicly identified as queer (and the doctor himself was first presented as queer character after a queer romantic episode where he kissed a man), while the Thirteenth Doctor was played for three seasons by Jodie Whittaker, the first woman to portray the Doctor. In 2023, the series also introduced Rose Noble, a trans feminine nonbinary teenager and supportive character played by transgender English actress Yasmin Finney.

But despite popular stereotypes online, “Doctor Who” did not suddenly “go woke.” The program has existed in two main eras: the classic series, which aired from 1963 to1989, and the modern revival, which has been broadcast on BBC One since 2005.

Even in the 1960s, one of the program’s earliest stories, “The Daleks” (1963–64), presented an obvious allegory for fascism, racial purity, bigotry and the horrors of war. Throughout the classic era, the Doctor frequently opposed militarism, authoritarian governments, and dictatorships. Many fans have also pointed to moments of queer coding and subtext throughout the classic series.

However, openly queer characters appeared as soon as the modern revival began. 

The 2005 revival introduced Captain Jack Harkness, played by John Barrowman, one of the first openly queer recurring characters in the “Doctor Who” universe. He openly flirted with people regardless of their gender and later became the lead character of the spin-off series “Torchwood.” “Torchwood” went even further with LGBTQ+ representation, featuring multiple queer characters, including trans and nonbinary characters whose identities were treated as a normal part of the story.

“Doctor Who” has always been remarkably progressive for its time. The franchise doesn’t suddenly change its values, it’s always been “woke.”

The same happened with the American franchise “Star Trek.” 

It is widely known as one of the most openly left-wing and progressive television franchises ever broadcast. The original series, which aired from 1966-1969, was created during the Cold War and featured the utopian United Federation of Planets, a society without poverty or money that can be characterised as socialist or even communist. It also featured Lt. Uhura, played by Nichelle Nichols, a Black woman serving as a highly respected bridge officer at a time when Black women weren’t portrayed in positions of authority on American television. The series also included one of the first interracial kisses in modern American television, between Capt. James T. Kirk (William Shatner) and Uhura in the 1968 episode “Plato’s Stepchildren,” a moment that had a significant cultural impact.

Gene Roddenberry, the creator of the franchise, said that he had wanted to include openly queer characters as well, but believed it would have been impossible to keep the show on the air because it had already pushed social boundaries in so many other ways.

Today, many viewers — including Elon Musk — claim that “Star Trek” has only recently become “woke.” In reality, I think it actually became less radical than the original series. Even queer characters are not a recent addition to the franchise. One of the earliest major queer characters appeared in “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine” (1993–1999): the Trill officer Jadzia Dax, played by Terry Farrell. In the 1995 episode “Rejoined,” she shared one of the first same-sex kisses in the history of the franchise.

However, for some reason, it was the openly gay couple Paul Stamets (Anthony Rapp) and Hugh Culber (Wilson Cruz) in “Star Trek: Discovery” (2017–2024), together with the trans Trill character Gray Tal, played by trans actor Ian Alexander, that triggered a major backlash among conservative parts of the fandom. That backlash reached another peak with “Star Trek: Starfleet Academy,” which features the canonically gay Klingon cadet Jay-Den Kraag. The actor has spoken about receiving abuse and threats because of the role, despite the fact that there was nothing especially ideological about his character. He was simply a gay character whose sexuality was only one aspect of who he was. In fact, considering the ideals of the original “Star Trek,” I was more surprised that the franchise still includes relatively few trans or polyamorous characters, and that they are not part of the lead cast. After all, the franchise was created to imagine a future that was ahead of its time.

So why do conservatives and anti-LGBTQ+ people continue to watch franchises that have always been deliberately progressive? And why do they keep claiming that these shows have only recently “gone woke”?

A more logical explanation is that parts of the audience have become less willing to accept the same kinds of progressive ideas that these franchises have embraced for decades. In other words, it is not the shows that fundamentally changed. Some long-time viewers have become more conservative than they were in their youth, while newer conservative audiences have joined them and begun criticizing franchises without knowing their real history. 

In many ways, geeks have changed more than these shows have. Sci-fi hasn’t “gone woke.” Some of its fans have simply become less comfortable with the same progressive values these franchises have promoted for decades.

‘Kids, Wait Till You Hear This! My Memoir’
By Liza Minnelli, as told to Michael Feinstein
c.2026, Grand Central
$36/ 421 pages

Twenty feet In front of you, and you can’t see a thing.

Even the closest faces are in shadow – lit, but not quite enough for you to see for sure what the people there are thinking. Still, you can hear them, their gasps, their laughter, and applause. Such is life, on-stage. Now read “Kids, Wait Till You Hear This! My Memoir” by Liza Minnelli, as told to Michael Feinstein, and read about it beyond the spotlight.

Almost from the moment she was born, Liza Minnelli was famous.

It was inevitable: her mother was Judy Garland. Her father was director Vincente Minnelli. Her godparents were Hollywood glitterati, her neighbors were famous, her playmates would be famous someday, too.

But her life wasn’t all starlight and happiness.

She made her stage debut as a toddler. She became her “mother’s caretaker” at age 13.

At 16, she had a growing career of her own – one that her mother tried to stop. But, she says, “In her own way, Mama was wonderful to me. Try understanding – she was my mother, not a movie star…. I knew her as the person who loved me and always would.”

At 19, Minnelli was working, happy, and madly in love with the man who’d become her first husband, and life was wonderful – until she came home one day to find him in their bed with another man. Before they were divorced, she lost her beloved mother, and became “engaged” to two other men simultaneously, neither of which made it to the altar with her.

She married her second husband, the son of one of her mother’s former co-stars, in 1974 but her love affairs and addictions led to a second divorce.

Her third husband was a stage manager.

She doesn’t have much good to say about her fourth, and last, husband.

Overall, she says, “You gotta play the comedy for all it’s worth and leave ‘em laughing. Even when your heart is breaking.”

Are you expecting bluntness, sass, or attitude here? Good, because that’s what you get inside “Kids, Wait Till You Hear This!” It’s strong on honesty and don’t-give-a-flip. It’s wonderfully edited, so it moves fast. It’s eye-opening and funny and a pleasant surprise for a first, and only (so far), memoir.

Even better, author Liza Minnelli (with best friend, Michael Feinstein) is really quite candid and nicely gossipy, starting from the beginning. There are some Hollywood folks, in fact, who are feeling edgy because of what’s inside this book and the secrets spilled. Minnelli and Feinstein seemed to have fun telling her story, and they comfortably lure readers in.

That’s not to say that it’s all a cabaret. Minnelli tells about her addictions and recoveries, her marriages and why she wed two gay men, and the losses she endured, including miscarriages, deaths, and broken relationships. The bad balances well with the good for a tale that’s several notches above most celebrity memoirs. “Kids, Wait Till You Hear This!” is, in fact, a real joy to read, a genuine bright spot.

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In 1996, after the AIDS epidemic had cast its shadow over the gay community for a decade and a half, the breakthrough finally came: the success of antiretroviral medication turned a fatal disease into a manageable and survivable condition — and suddenly, “queer joy” began to feel like a possibility again.

The year 1996 also saw the release of “The Birdcage,” a remake of the farcical French film comedy “La Cage aux Folles,” about a gay couple who attempt to “play it straight” when their son brings his fiancée’s conservative parents over for dinner, starring Robin Williams and Nathan Lane — in one of his first (non-animated) film roles — as the couple. It was notable as one of the rare studio films of the era to center on gay characters, and the fact that it was a certified box office hit represented a welcome cultural shift after the years of homophobic stigma fostered by Reagan-era “moral majority” conservatism.

These two landmarks were coincidental, of course, and obviously the significance of the first (though it came a few months later) was, in the scheme of things, far more monumental. Nevertheless, there’s something about the timing that marked a definitive moment in the ongoing struggle for queer acceptance. It was a palpable turn of the tide, a moment in time when we could collectively “unclench”  — and 30 years later, in the midst of a whole new onslaught of conservative bigotry that threatens to erode the progress of the intervening years, it’s a moment worth celebrating, if for no other reason than to remind ourselves of what is possible when we refuse to hide who we are.

That, after all, is the central conflict in “The Birdcage,” just as it was in the earlier French play (by Jean Poiret) and film that inspired it, as well as the hit Broadway musical (“La Cage aux Folles” (adapted by queer writer Harvey Fierstein and queer composer Jerry Herman) that came in between. Set in the famously gay Miami neighborhood of South Beach, it centers on a popular queer nightclub owned by longtime partners Armand (Williams), who runs the business, and Albert (Lane), a flamboyant drag performer known as “Starina” who serves as the club’s headlining act; as a result of a long-ago one-night stand, Armand is father to Val (Dan Futterman), whom the couple have raised together, and who has become engaged to Barbara (Calista Flockhart), the daughter of a prominent conservative senator (Gene Hackman). Fearing that knowledge of his parents’ true relationship will prevent the senator from allowing the marriage, Val convinces Armand and Albert to temporarily “straightwash” themselves for a dinner party with the would-be future in-laws. Naturally, things do not go as planned (this is a farce, after all), but by the end, the gays “save the day,” as they say, by helping the senator and his wife (Dianne Wiest) avoid a scandal, and the kids get to have their wedding, after all.

It’s true that “The Birdcage” has invited criticism from within the community over the years for offering exaggerated stereotypes, especially in its depictions of “femme” characters like Albert and Agador (Hank Azaria), the couple’s Guatemalan housekeeper — and, in more recent times, from younger queer viewers who brand Val as “the real villain” of the movie for his insistence on making his parents pretend to be straight. There’s also the quibble that two of the film’s leading gay characters are played by heterosexual actors (Williams and Azaria) and that neither the writer nor director of the film were queer themselves. We can’t dispute the validity of such positions, but we can certainly suggest that they might be missing the point. 

The director, Mike Nichols, was a man who had transitioned from being a comedian to becoming a celebrated director for both stage and screen, responsible for (among many other films) “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” and “The Graduate,” and the script was by Elaine May, his former comedy partner, known for her witty, sophisticated, and savvy screenwriting. Both came with a pedigree that included extensive collaboration with queer performers and creators, and a track record that clearly showed their dedication for humanity and truth over the social constructs they repeatedly undermined with shrewd observational satire.

Williams, known then and now for his manic, over-the-top cartoonishness, plays Armand with complete sincerity, balancing his signature lunacy (like the classic “Fosse, Fosse” moment as he directs a new act for the club) with a deeply considered emotional solidity that never strikes a false note; and Azaria, whose performance became an instantly iconic fan favorite of outrageous femme-boy camp, is lovable precisely because his iteration of the cliché is so completely un-self-conscious, and is still beloved arguably as much for this as for his decades of voice work on “The Simpsons” — not because he is ridiculous (he is, and hilariously so) but because he is so recognizably real. 

As for Lane, Albert’s character is explicitly written as a “diva,” the kind of gay male “show queen” stereotype that never quite offends because we all know someone — or are someone — who fits that profile to a tee; underneath it all is a person determined to live life on their own terms, and it makes his emergence as an eleventh-hour hero/heroine all the more satisfying. Let’s face it, when the chips are down, none of us could ask for a better mom than he turns out to be.

Of course, the participation of incomparable actors Hackman and Wiest is invaluable, allowing even their stodgy characters enough grace to keep them from coming off as complete buffoons (though Hackman’s reprehensible senator, appropriately enough, comes close); for good measure, there’s even the delicious Christine Baranski as Val’s biological mother.

All those performances — along with the fabulous explosion of Miami decor in the scenic design, the depictions of vibrant queer nightlife, and a soundtrack that includes both spicy nuggets of iconic club music and a handful of songs by the great gay genius Stephen Sondheim — are enough to make “The Birdcage” a classic, but the reason it continues to resonate with queer joy emanates from the material itself.

Wrapped up in all the absurdity of its humor, “La Cage aux Folles” (in all its forms) proffers a simple story in which — despite misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and all the various kerfuffles which erupt throughout — everyone shows up for each other. It’s a portrait of a household built on love, about a family willing to leap hurdles and place the happiness of those dear to them above their own inconveniences. In the end, the queerness is really not the point; but the fact that it’s a queer family who embodies these values (and a messy one, at that) is, as the queer expression goes, everything.

Thirty years ago, “The Birdcage” was a fun celebration; today, in a world that once more feels weaponized against queerness, it’s more than that: It’s a great film that reminds us that our greatest victories arise from being ourselves, unapologetically — and that the only thing required to make a family is unconditional love.

Discord Addams is a queen of many talents, as any fan who watched her run on RuPaul’s Drag Race season 18 will tell you. 

The Florida-based drag queen pumped into this historic program ready to make a mark on the competition. Rocking her trademark ‘high fashion punk rock maximalist’ aesthetic and entertaining viewers with her biting personality (along with a…questionable runway walk), Discord spent each episode turning out not only astounding fashion but hard truths. The performer made it clear early on that she was never scared of sharing her genuine opinions with anyone who would listen. Whether it was judges on the runway or her fellow competitors in the werkroom, Addams always paired her punk rock kindness with a style of harsh sincerity that entertained audiences to no end. When she finished the season in sixth place, there was a whole new slew of fans ready to hear whatever hard truths Discord was ready to spill next. 

And, luckily, they didn’t have to wait long. Because WOW Presents Plus recognized that thousands of new fans were still desperate to hear the style of unabashed candor that Discord brought to season 18. And now, with her new series on the platform, F**k This! With Discord Addams, this punk fan-favorite gets to give her audience the one thing they now know to always expect from her: brutal honesty. 

“I felt like I was the star of season 18 — you know, whether I won or not,” laughed Addams, as she described what a whirlwind experience of going from a Drag Race contestant to host of her own series. “Getting to have my own show, where I get to talk about literally whatever the fuck I want to talk about, it just…it feels right.” F**k This! takes a relatively simple premise but spices it up with Discord’s ruthless style of candor; each episode sees her sit down in a completely demolished set and rant to the camera about a poignant topic, ranging from fast fashion to the horrific rise of AI. These dialogues are occasionally interrupted by Discord taking calls from her audience about their issues, with the Queen delivering genuinely insightful thoughts on whatever tenuous concept is presented to her. 

Discord spoke about how this commitment to complete honesty was passed down to her from her parents, folks who understood the importance of telling their truth. “There was nobody censoring me growing up, so I think it was a natural progression into my standing up for what I feel is right.” It’s this mindset that has led Discord to become one of the most vocal advocates of the entire Drag Race franchise; even before her casting on the show, Addams used her social media to share community resources and speak out against injustices taking place all over the world. This has only increased since her time on season 18, with Addams using the new popularity this show has brought her to speak even more about corrupt politicians, the dangers of ICE, modern-day war criminals, and more. 

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Addams brings a refreshing willingness to speak about these hard topics that is unfortunately rare in today’s entertainment landscape. In an industry where, sadly, a performer speaking about social issues can hurt their career, Discord makes it clear that her punk nature doesn’t stop at her clothes. She embodies the roots of this subculture, one that began as an affront to modern fascism and has always been meant to challenge the discrimination that too many people take as a given in society. Addams is proud that she’s never silenced herself in order to ‘get ahead’ professionally…and she wishes that more of her fellow queens would do the same. 

“I think a lot of the Drag Race girls in the past kind of teetered on a line of what they felt they were or were not allowed to say,” stressed Discord, calling out the many performers who haven’t used their platforms to discuss social issues. “I think there are a lot of drag queens who just censor themselves or like present themselves a certain way that they think is more palatable…people can sense authenticity, and they can also sense when you’re fucking lying to them.”

It’s an issue that has plagued the Drag Race fandom for years, though it isn’t entirely the queens’ fault; online bullying has become so horrific that many contestants are scared that by expressing themselves on the show, they’re inviting torrents of digital hate from so-called ‘fans.’ Yet while this is a valid fear — and something that this fandom desperately needs to work on — Discord reminds everyone through her drag that you don’t succeed by being a fake version of yourself. By refusing to speak about these issues, her fellow queens are hurting the movement and making it so that any success they may seem to have is built on lying to themselves and everyone around them. 

It’s a twisted form of ‘winning’ that Discord completely detests, and it’s why she hopes her show, along with being an avenue to express her many feelings, is a lesson on authenticity for everyone watching. 

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Because while F**k This! Is thoroughly entertaining — it’s hilarious watching how eloquently Addams combines some of the most vile curse words — it is also a genuine lesson on the importance of honesty today. These concepts are ones that Addams struggles with in her own life and that she knows the people watching do as well. Each is selected because she knows they’ll resonate with those watching, and through hilarious rants and some sickening makeup, Discord hopes to use her own voice on these topics to help others do the same. 

This is Discord Addams’ true goal with F**k This!: to not only entertain audiences but show them how empowering it is to be completely honest today. And whether you’re a new viewer or one of her longtime fans, Discord has just one lesson she hopes you take away from her new program: “If you’re being your most true, your most authentic self, you’re going to also bring in the most authentic [community]. You’re going to create a circle of people that genuinely want to hear what you have to say — instead of playing a bullshit character.”

F**k This! is now streaming on WOW Presents Plus

Rarely have we seen a fierce comic book squad-up of LGBTQ+ icons like the X-Men. 

Originating in Marvel comics, for decades now, the team’s millions of fans have watched their stories play out both in print and on the silver screen. Thousands of narratives — with even more astounding characters — that offer thrilling adventures, as well as poignant lessons on what discrimination looks like today. Because despite what some Marvel fans may have you believe, these stories about a class of people being disenfranchised by a bigoted society have always been allegories for the discrimination faced by real-life communities. Combine this with its many queer and queer-coded members, and it’s no wonder that LGBTQ+ fans were ecstatic when it was announced that the team’s original series, X-Men: The Animated Series, was being rebooted for Disney+ in 2025. 

These viewers were thrilled to once again watch their favorite team of super-powered mutants fight bad guys with campy flair. But when the reboot, X-Men ’97, was released, LGBTQ+ fans were shocked to learn it would also feature the first nonbinary character in the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe! Morph, the shapeshifting, wise-cracking mutant from the original series, would return to not only fight villainy but also provide vital representation for millions of nonbinary audience members. And when creating such a monumental figure for this version of the team, X-Men ’97’s creators knew there was only one voice actor who could do the superhero justice: JP Karliak. 

“As a kid, I was a huge fan of animated shows like He-Man and Batman: The Animated Series. I was so enamored with voice acting, I felt it couldn’t be a real job!” Laughed Karliak, as they spoke with the Los Angeles Blade to celebrate X-Men ’97’s recent season two premiere. It’s the latest project in their jaw-dropping career; whether it’s voicing the titular professional in Boss Baby: Back in Business or a saucy trophy in video game Date Everything!, Karliak can be heard in many hit franchises. They’ve become known for the tonal whimsy they bring into every role, a trademark talent that has made JP one of the voice acting industry’s top queer actors. 

Karliak emphasized how honored they are for this title — especially because of the many issues this industry still has with its LGBTQ+ performers. “There’s a narrow-mindedness in so much of the voice industry that it’s like, ‘Okay, well, we can only let you play this particular thing,’” they explained. “But also just a [person’s] transness shouldn’t determine that they can only voice trans roles or only voice nonbinary roles! In the same way we’ve seen so many cis straight people play cis-het roles, letting queer people play the majority roles only helps us to build long-lasting careers — because there’s no way to do it if we’re only playing queer roles.” 

It’s a unique set of issues further complicated by the many problems all voice actors face today, ranging from the rise of AI to big studios’ harmful underpayment practices. It’s because of this that JP established QueerVox, a nonprofit that provides aspiring queer voice performers with the training they need while connecting them with the roles they deserve. From communal job boards to free classes to networking events that help LGBTQ+ artists connect, Karliak spoke proudly of all they’ve done to help make this industry more accessible for all. 

Presented with a performer who excels not only in talent but in making a difference, it’s no wonder that the X-Men ’97 team thought JP Karliak would be the perfect voice for Morph! Although the character definitely had a darker backstory than the actor’s usual roles, X-Men: The Animated Series saw Morph turn from the team’s comic relief into the brainwashed henchman of their most sickening villain. This led to the mutant spending much of their original time on the show in recovery, traumatized from having their autonomy ripped from them in a narrative that resonated so deeply with LGBTQ+ fans. Karliak was thrilled to bring back Morph to hopefully give them the joy they deserved, and they were happy to be doing so with the character — one who literally shifts constantly between gender identities — finally using they/them pronouns. 

“Knowing from the get-go that this was going to be a nonbinary character now, and as identifying as gender queer myself…I felt so much kinship with this character,” explained JP, as they spoke about how it felt to embody Morph through their voice. “It felt like as long as I was being true to myself, I was doing the character a service.”

It’s a truth that comes through in every line, with JP’s mischievous yet resounding performance style showing in every moment Morph is onscreen. They recognized that this would be one of the first examples of a nonbinary person that viewers would see in animation and wanted to do them justice, saying, “Giving nonbinary characters [like Morph] the ability to be serious, to experience loss and pain, to experience joy — all aspects of humanity! And to not just be relegated to one narrow band of the human experience…it’s just so important.”

This interview took place on the day that it was announced X-Men ’97 would be returning for seasons three and four, which meant fans can expect more years of Morph shapeshifting across their screens. Karliak was ecstatic at this news, and when asked what they hope to explore in these new installments with the character, they said, “In season one, Morph was a less confident version of me, because Morph was really just trying to find where they belonged and feeling accepted, having just rejoined this team and not really knowing what the dynamic was…I think season two finds them much more confident, much more akin to where I find myself, personality-wise. They don’t feel that they always have to use humor to break the tension.”

“So much of Morph’s journey has been dominated by victimization and trauma and so much hurt. I’d love to see them just experience some joy and find friendships and relationships that are really fun, and fulfilling, and beautiful.”

It’s a future for the character that many of their fans hope to see as well. And, luckily for them all, with a talent like JP Karliak voicing the nonbinary mutant, chances are they’ll be getting just that — and so, so much more.

In a digital landscape where social media reigns supreme, few industries are as profitable — or as risky — as the influencer economy. 

Becoming an influencer has transformed from a side hobby into a legitimate profession, one that generates millions every year. And that’s putting it lightly; low estimates of profit derived from influencers in 2025 currently sit at 30 million dollars. Whether it be corporations making online celebrities a major part of their marketing or certain users getting paid thousands of dollars for a single post, it’s undeniable that influencers hold power within our often unstable economy. 

Which is why the industry’s bias against marginalized creators is so deeply unfortunate. 

The bigoted rhetoric that fills many parts of modern society has always (sadly) infected our digital world. It’s an issue that has only grown in recent years, with a combination of hateful users and predatory algorithms making it insurmountably harder for diverse influencers to find their audience online. It’s a harmful trend that continues to stifle the queer voices so many people need to hear right now, and it’s something that Carlo Lupercio fights against through his agency, Lupercio Management. 

“We represent specifically Latin as well as LGBTQIA+ creators — creators that are not traditionally represented to the full capacity,” explained Lupercio when he sat down to speak with the Los Angeles Blade. “I serve as their partner but also as their manager, and really am just amplifying and helping them achieve the goals that they want to achieve as creators.” Carlo brings a personal passion to this work; before founding this agency, he worked in influencer marketing for many well-known brands. And it was through these experiences that he learned the term that companies use to keep our communities out of the spotlight: ‘brand safe.’

“There is this stigma of some brands where what is okay for a White gay creator may not be okay for a Brown or Black creator,” Carlo explained. “As a creator, you want to be authentic. You want to show your [truest] self to the internet, because that’s the way that people will follow you…but oftentimes, a brand does not see that as ‘brand safe.’” He detailed the many times he saw this term used against queer and POC influencers, with executives using it as a method of catering to the potential anger of the hateful parts of their audiences. 

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Carlo got a firsthand look at this phenomenon and how it left many talented people without the opportunities they needed in this cutthroat industry. It made him passionate about fighting against these discriminations to create a way for influencers of any identity to have an equal shot at success — and so, Lupercio Media was born. 

Lupercio Media serves as a comprehensive resource for its clients, with each one belonging to a marginalized community (identities that would make many other agencies ignore them completely). Carlo outlined how he works daily with these creatives to understand their dreams and develop plans on how to attain them, helping them in countless ways, ranging from establishing their image to securing brand deals. But beyond these professional duties, Lupercio stressed that he also serves as a personal cheerleader for each of these diverse clients, saying, “There’s obviously the job component — but I am also their partner. I find out who they are as a person outside of [being an influencer]…when you’re working with talent, they’re still people at the end of the day. So really getting to know them personally is a huge role of mine as a manager.”

“I think it’s important for [influencers] to create content that shows who they are…because it’ll only inspire the next person,” emphasized Carlo. “It’ll open up more opportunities, and it will show brands that this is a large demographic in society that they just cannot ignore — despite everything that is going on in the world. Because LGBTQIA+ people are here. They’re present. And they are not going anywhere.”

And that is at the heart of Lupercio Media: the knowledge that managing these people not only helps their careers but also the LGBTQ+ community as a whole. Because social media is growing every single day! And queer users, especially young ones, are constantly searching for people with their identities who show them that they can succeed as their most authentic selves — even if there are many people today telling them they can’t. 

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Because of the influencer industry’s discriminatory practices, many of these folks searching for inspiration have been historically left wanting. But through Lupercio Media, Carlo works hard to not only give marginalized creatives a platform but also to make sure that everyone has someone they can look up to online. 

It may sound laughable to the many folks who still write off influencers and the power they hold. But Lupercio Media recognizes the strength of these individuals and how they can serve as true models of success for countless underserved communities today. Carlo Lupercio works tirelessly to ensure that any creator, no matter their identity, has what they need to offer their followers the representation they need — and all while securing some pretty sweet brand deals along the way.

‘Poking the Squid: What We Can Learn from Animal Sex’
By Perrin Roosevelt Ireland
c.2026, W.W. Norton
$29.99 241 pages

Birds do it.

According to Cole Porter, bees do, too, but it’s not exactly what he imagined. Wild and tame, avians, insects, and mammals all have sex – although not always as you’ve been told or for reasons you might think. Even educated fleas do it and, as in the new book, “Poking the Squid” by Perrin Roosevelt Ireland, humans can learn from them all.

If you read through scientific papers on animal reproduction, you might notice something unusual: for scientists, the word “sex” means a lot of different things.

Says Ireland, “It’s used to describe behaviors, biology, life histories, and more.”

That might be because animals are not simply binary.

Take, for instance, hyenas. It’s easy for the casual observer to mistake a male hyena for a female and vice versa because of stereotypes of anatomy. Mating, for hyenas, requires subordination for the male and a nifty trick on the part of the female’s body to get things done.

Our feathered friends are no birdbrains, either: black-browed albatrosses were once thought to be monogamous but global warming seems to have changed their nesting habits sometimes. Male flamingos have sex with one another, as a territorial thing; other birds and animals form same-sex pairs for other reasons.

The Chinese mantis eats her mate after fertilization. Female snakes, alpacas, guinea pigs, and monkeys are anatomically able to enjoy sex. Genitalia between species varies quite a bit; in fact, the vaginas of ducks “are highly complex.” Lionesses will mate up to 100 times when in heat. Female damselflies will change into a “third sex” to avoid overly aggressive mating males. Bearded dragons can change their sex, if needed, as can yellow clown goby fish. And seahorse pregnancy and birth sparked a book banning in Tennessee.

So, asks Ireland, if animals, including us, vary so much in biology and life, “… why are we using the word sex like it means something, anything, consistent?!”

Pick up “Poking the Squid,” page through it a few seconds, and you’ll see that the information here is largely told through cartoon-like drawings mixed with captions. It seems to be something on the lighter side, but don’t let that artwork fool you.

Author Perrin Roosevelt Ireland offers readers solid information that cozies up to the scholarly, with hard science, philosophy, feminism, and quotations from researchers to support it, thus furthering the narrative and hitting the points squarely. If you see the art and expect something lighthearted, comic, and small-talk-worthy, you could be disappointed.

On the other hand, if you want solid, wryly serious facts, you’re in for a treat.

There’s lots of learning to be gleaned here, and some slight nudge-wink whimsy to emphasize the absurdity of wrong-headed thinking. This can make readers feel like they’re in-the-know on the jokes, and the playfulness balances the seriousness of the information well.

So, serious, scholarly, or slightly silly, none of these are negative but you’re going to know what you want from a book like this. For the right reader, someone in the mood, “Poking the Squid” is wild.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

If we want queer artists to succeed, then there need to be systems that support them. 

Unfortunately, providing free resources to aspiring artists hasn’t always been America’s priority. This is even more blatant for marginalized creators; while the U.S. has rarely offered artistic programs the funding they deserve, recent years have seen countless conservative attacks against most kinds of LGBTQ+ creativity. But despite these institutional and social roadblocks, queer creatives have always persisted! No matter what era of film and television we’re in, it’s heartening to watch so many creators fighting to not only make their own projects but also make it easier for other marginalized artists to do the same. 

In a city as vibrant as Los Angeles, there are luckily dozens of groups helping to platform underserved filmmakers today. These organizations fight to create a film industry where truly anyone can thrive, and nowhere is that work more visible than within the Queer Film Collective. 

Growing from a small networking group into a thriving nonprofit, the Queer Film Collective (QFC) serves as a resource hub for LGBTQ+ directors, actors, and all film and TV professionals in Los Angeles. The LA Blade spoke with QFC’s founder, Ray Taylor, about how important the group’s work is today, emphasizing how it’s more important than ever that we support the people making inclusive media possible. He spoke about the impact of this representation, the experience of trying to create LGBTQ+ films in our current political environment, and, when discussing QFC’s exciting new Summer Panel Series, how he’s excited to foster an LA film industry that gives queer filmmakers the respect they deserve. 

“We’re doing everything we can to make it so filmmakers can make their films,” explained Taylor, as he described the whirlwind process his past year with QFC has been. “The Queer Film Collective is a nonprofit that provides resources, opportunities, and education. We focus on four pillars: connect, collaborate, create, celebrate, and our main focus is making it easier for films to be made.” It’s an important mission for not only queer filmmakers but creators in general! The past few decades have seen big studios grow more reluctant to give new creatives a chance (or offer livable wages to the many workers who make their projects possible). And while recent years have shown that not only original ideas but also small creators are essential to improving the film industry, it’s been extremely disheartening to see that this hasn’t changed today. 

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Ray, an accomplished film director, spoke about how the QFC was created in opposition to this unfortunate phenomenon. He organized the group’s first official meet-up — a small get-together of only a few dozen people — as a space for folks to share advice about navigating this tenuous profession while queer. “The more I talked to people, the more I realized they wanted resources, they wanted opportunities, they wanted to get on sets,” he reminisced. “So I threw together a pitch deck, and I said, ‘All right, here’s my five-year plan. We’re going to become a nonprofit.’ And in January of this year, we got our official 501c3 status, and that five-year plan is now thrown out the window — because everything that was on it has already happened in the first six months of our being alive.”

The Queer Film Collective couldn’t have arrived at a better time because, as Taylor is quick to remind anyone who will listen, inclusive media has always been key in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights. The man stressed, “It’s really important to focus on telling these stories that allow queer people to just be seen as people — they’re just everyday people! They experience joy; they experience heartbreak…I think that it’s really important to normalize seeing queer people in media, because the more normal that you see queer people in media, the more normal you will see queer people in life.” And while we’ve been lucky to see allies create inclusive media, Taylor emphasized that it’s only by uplifting queer filmmakers that we ensure this industry continues to make media that our communities can find themselves within. 

Whether it be community meet-ups, their constantly evolving job board, or the organization’s constant spotlights on queer projects and individuals, every aspect of the QFC helps create the onscreen representation that so many people need to see. And while each of these facets is integral to the group’s work, Ray has never been more excited for the upcoming resource they’ll be providing LGBTQ+ filmmakers: The QFC Summer Panel Series. 

“I wanted an event that we get to do every year, and whatever that is, I wanted it to be impactful,” raved Taylor, as he excitedly described how he and other QFC leadership initially thought of the series. He spoke at length about the many industry professionals they’re honored to have join these panels and, in a shocking rarity for educational opportunities in film, how all of the conversations will eventually be uploaded completely free online. “The conversations that we chose this year we felt were really important because we’re starting our panel series with a whole conversation about queer joy and telling stories beyond trauma, and we’re ending our panel series on a on a panel that’s talking about how to create art in today’s political climate…all of these are hot topics right now, and I think that they need to be told. And I think not only do queer filmmakers need to hear this, but everyone needs to hear.” 

As the interview came to an end, it was obvious how ecstatic Ray was to talk about the Summer Panel Series and invite everyone reading to attend. Not just because of what an accomplishment it was — though he proudly listed off the many amazing discussions this series had in store — but what it represented for QFC as a whole. This organization was founded to empower LGBTQ+ filmmakers and help create an industry where not only can inclusive media be easily made, but the people who want to make it actually have the chance to. This panel series caps off an astounding first year of doing just that, with Taylor teasing even more to come in the next few months. 

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And as a final pitch to encourage folks to come, Ray summarized why this panel series — and all of the Queer Film Collective — is so vital: “I think that queer stories are so important to tell…and not just the ones focused on trauma or coming out! In my opinion, the most important queer stories right now are the ones focused on joy and succeeding in life, because we need to show the world — and not just the world, but also young LGBTQ+ people — that queer people are here. We’re going to survive. We’re going to keep pushing, and nothing’s going to bring us down. And so I think that queer filmmakers need to have those opportunities to tell these stories, because I think that they are so important.”

Summer Panel Series: Thu, Jul 9, 202610:59 AM  Thu, Aug 27, 2026 1:00 PM

Join the Queer Film Collective for an 8 week panel series bringing together working filmmakers, writers, and creatives for honest, practical conversations about the realities of the industry today.