Few editors have reimagined contemporary queer Arab storytelling quite like Elias Jahshan. From the sweeping success of This Arab is Queer to his latest anthology This Queer Arab Family, Jahshan has created the much-needed space for stories that are as politically urgent as they are deeply personal while holding nuance, joy, and community in narratives so often disregarded and disenfranchised by mainstream discourse. Drawing on his background in journalism and his own lived experience across Sydney and London, his work challenges stereotypes while amplifying the voices that are far too often left unheard.

As he celebrates the release of This Queer Arab Family, Jahshan will appear at a special book launch event in WeHo tomorrow, the 15th, at the West Hollywood City Council Chamber, bringing these conversations directly to readers and community members. In this interview, he reflects on identity, home, representation, and the evolving politics of queer Arab life, all while offering insight into both his creative process and the urgent realities shaping his work today.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by One Institute (@oneinstitutela)

Elias, your work beautifully blends your Arab and queer identities. When did the idea of expressing these together through storytelling and sharing them with the world first come to you?

In 2019 and the lead-up to the UK’s first lockdown in 2020, I immersed myself in anthologies and contributed to one, Arab, Australian, Other. That experience, combined with my background in journalism, made me wonder if I could publish my own.

I began reflecting on how queer Arabs are represented in the media. Coverage often focused on sensational stories: ISIS atrocities, state crackdowns, or misjudged displays of Western solidarity while overlooking context, local activism, and nuance. Too often, queer Arabs were reduced to stereotypes: victims or “model migrants.”

These reflections led to my first anthology, This Arab is Queer, published in 2022. The response was overwhelming, and I was frequently asked if I’d edit another. I knew it couldn’t be a sequel; it needed a new focus.

Through the connections I built, and my own experiences of isolation during sudden deafness in 2023, I began thinking about how queer Arabs find family and community.

This Queer Arab Family explores those bonds, centering stories of kinship, resilience, and joy. It reclaims the idea of family in Arab cultures and asserts our existence in spaces that often try to erase us; we are family, too.

How has your understanding of “home” evolved across your life and how is this reflected in your work?

On a surface level, home for me is split between Sydney and London. Sydney is where I was born, raised, and began my career, where my family and lifelong friends are, and where much of my coming out took place. London is where I built a new life, where my career grew, my identity as a queer, deaf Arab fully took shape, and where I found community, friendship, and love.

On a deeper level, “home” is more complicated. Australia is shaped by unceded Aboriginal land, while my ancestral homes, Lebanon and Palestine, remain largely out of reach due to legal and political barriers. Visiting them brought a profound, bittersweet sense of belonging.

Living in London, as the child of immigrants, turned immigrant myself, I’m always aware of its colonial history. Yet its diversity and openness have made it feel like home.

These experiences shape my work. They’ve deepened my empathy for other queer immigrants of color and reinforced that we are more than labels, that our histories, identities, and communities all intersect in meaningful ways.

What is one of the more surprising things you’ve learned from one of your contributors when compiling and editing anthologies like This Arab is Queer?

Each of the contributors taught me so many things, I wouldn’t know where to start with this question. The fact that they entrusted me to read and edit their stories – stories which were often deeply personal and vulnerable, mind you – is something I do not take for granted. It made me conscious of ensuring the editing process was done sensitively, to ensure their stories were told on their own terms, yet still legible for a wider audience.

With my more recent book, This Queer Arab Family, I was constantly reminded of how queer Arab joy could be played out through family, kinship, comradeship, or community. It reminded me that despite the hardships many of us face on multiple fronts as queer Arabs, we are still resilient and powerful. No one can ever take that away from us.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Elias Jahshan | الياس جهشان (@elias_jahshan)

How do you navigate or balance the expectations that come along with being a visible queer Arab voice in today’s political climate?

I don’t. LOL. As in, I don’t actively try to “navigate” or “balance” these expectations. I just am. I don’t actively hide anything about myself because I have nothing to be ashamed of whatsoever. 

With regards to my visibility, though, this is something that evolved organically. It started when I was thrust into the national media spotlight in Australia as editor of Star Observer. From there, it grew via my social media platforms, the articles I wrote for various publications, and then the two books I now have under my belt that have been put in the hands of readers around the world. 

However, I’m very aware that my visibility is only possible because of my privilege. Not just because of the fact I’m a cisgender male who’s had access to university-level education and freedom of movement – and lifestyle – that comes with having an Australian passport, but also because of the love and support I have from my family. 

Many queer Arabs do not have the same level of unconditional family support I have, so it’s not something I take for granted, even if it wasn’t an easy path to get to that point for me. But this support and love I am privileged to enjoy – it’s like a superpower. It makes all the racists, homophobes, and online trolls who try to come after me look like utter fools. Let them keep frothing at the mouth with all their useless hate and anger. I have something they don’t have: empathy and love.

Can you share with us one assumption that people have had of you that you’d like to take this moment to correct?

Some people might think I’m being combative or divisive through my choice of words when I critique Western queer communities. But I’m genuinely not. If anything, I care about the community so much that I want it to improve and better itself – and we can only do that if we have an honest conversation about some of the pitfalls that still plague our community. And it’s not just racism, there’s also transphobia, and a complacency from many that we’ve achieved equal rights now that we have same-sex marriage. We might be “equal” on paper, but that doesn’t mean we’re equal in reality. Not to mention our queer brethren in countries where regimes or laws brutally suppress them. The fight is far from over, and we all have to look beyond our borders, or even beyond our bubbles in the cities.

As someone who finds themself at the intersection of queer and Arab identities, how do you view the current global state of human rights, and what is still painfully overlooked?

I don’t think there’s a single answer to this. It makes more sense to look at queer issues through a local lens; what the community faces in Lebanon is vastly different from Saudi Arabia, just as Beirut differs from rural areas, or from diasporic communities in places like Sydney or Dearborn. Social, political, and geographic contexts matter.

Take Palestine, for example. Queer Palestinians are often met with the cliché that Israel is a “safe haven” for LGBTQ+ people. While this may reflect legal differences, it’s reductive. Queer Palestinians are still primarily targeted for being Palestinian, living under occupation and systemic discrimination. For many, liberation from that reality takes precedence.

In contrast, queer communities in places like Egypt may be more focused on immediate safety, minimizing visibility to avoid state surveillance and crackdowns.

These examples only scratch the surface, but they point to a broader need for a decolonial perspective: holding Western powers accountable for colonial laws and ongoing interventions, while also challenging patriarchal norms and homophobia within our own communities.

At the same time, queer activists across the region are already doing vital work. They understand their contexts best and don’t need Western “saviors” imposing solutions. Queer liberation in SWANA cannot simply mirror Western models; assuming so is both naïve and, ultimately, another form of imperialism.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Avoiding My Anxiously Attached Boyfriend (@amaabf)

From your perspective, what role can storytelling and literature play in the progress of human rights, particularly for those whose voices are often overlooked?

Storytelling and literature can show readers that we have our own agencies, that we can tell our stories on our own terms. In addition, Arab writers and artists have played a huge role and facilitated change. They help ensure progressive perspectives are heard in an increasingly conservative context, and I don’t just mean religion; one can still be “secular” or non-religious and still be conservative, ergo a bigot. It’s through their work, alongside the work of so many tireless activists and organizers, that we have been able to become more visible, to have our voices and experiences documented and heard. It’s a long process, but these wins should always be celebrated, given the circumstances we are up against.

We also have a growing number of straight Arab allies coming forward to speak for our community, to stand in solidarity with us through their platforms in the media or their artistry and writing. Often it’s subtle, for safety reasons, but we see them and love them for it.

What does it mean to share your work in a city like West Hollywood, with its own deep-rooted queer cultural history and landscape?

It truly is an honor. I am a major history nerd, and to know that my work will be contributing to West Hollywood’s deep-rooted cultural history and landscape in a small way is something that blows my mind. I am so well aware of West Hollywood’s role not just in the USA’s queer liberation movement and history, but also in a global context. It can’t be underestimated, and the younger version of myself growing up in the working-class suburbs of Sydney could never have imagined making it this far.

Do you foresee this event as more of a celebration, a conversation, a call to action, D: all of the above, or something else entirely?

All the above! I am not there to simply preach to the choir; I am also there to start a meaningful, engaging conversation, even if it means some audience members may be confronted with uncomfortable questions or perspectives. As I said earlier, change is never meant to be easy. But this also doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate. We can, and should!

Why do spaces like this upcoming event matter right now, particularly for queer Arab voices as well as other marginalized communities? 

To have this platform at West Hollywood cannot be understated. It’s an incredibly unique and powerful way to shed light on and uplift voices from marginalized communities – and to do it in a way that’s engaging and accessible to anyone and everyone. I really hope this moment of cultural and ideas exchange will be a stepping stone that leads to more nuanced discussions and understandings of all marginalized communities – not just queer Arabs.

Looking into the near future, what stories and whose voices do you hope will become more culturally mainstream?

We’re already seeing a shift in that queer people of color are taking center stage in the mainstream – not just in queer circles but also the wider, mainstream society and media. I really do welcome this, and I know it will only keep getting better.

I just hope that as this trend continues, we also don’t lose sight of what’s important – complete and genuine liberation for everyone. Not just equality, but also justice and equity too. And crucially, not just for one group of people at the expense of another. We’re all in this together, and applying basic critical thinking, along with a strong desire to hold elected officials and media outlets accountable, will be key in achieving this. This is essentially a long-winded way of saying sure, representation is great – but it’s not what will save us. Liberation requires complete reforms, or a complete dismantling of the status quo in many aspects of society.

Join us tomorrow to celebrate the launch of This Queer Arab Family with Elias Jahshan and the Los Angeles Blade

Queer audiences are lucky that, during a time when LGBTQ+ artistry is being attacked all over the airwaves, we’re still being graced with an abundance of drag-centric reality shows. 

RuPaul’s Drag Race alone has created a gloriously saturated genre; not only is the flagship series offering yearly installments of great performers, but its many spin-offs and international versions have introduced audiences worldwide to the beauty of drag. And with other programs like Dragula and King of Drag offering sides of this art form that fans don’t usually see, it’s been amazing to watch drag become a larger part of mainstream culture. Now more than ever, it’s important to have series that focus on this kind of artistry, which is why Pageant Queens is such a welcome addition to this pantheon of stellar drag shows. 

While it’s another drag-centric program, Pageant Queens immediately sets itself apart with its primary rule: there are no eliminations. And, instead of episodic challenges, it will follow ten queens as they spend weeks rehearsing and preparing for the ‘Queen of Drag’ pageant, where one of them will achieve the titular title (and a $50,000 cash prize). In conversation with the Los Angeles Blade, director Travis Stancil clarified what drove him to create this program: “It’s important to pay homage to our heritage and to our history.”

“[These competitors] have all won major national titles — and there was nothing else for them [to win]!” He explained, when discussing the program’s all-star cast. While most reality shows feature an audition process, this ensemble was selected because each competitor is the proud holder of some illustrious Drag Pageant title. Focusing on them as they all live together and prepare for the pageant, Pageant Queens spotlights these trailblazing performers who’ve each had a hand in shaping the culture so many queer people love today.

“Our concept [was] basically legends that have been in the business for 30-something years, or that have won a national title,” explained California’s own Shae Shae LaReese, a contestant on the show. She went on to describe how each performer featured was a star of the community in their own right and how happy she was to be seen alongside such talents. 

With many younger generations’ first exposure to drag being RuPaul’s Drag Race, it’s easy for them to think the series reflects this entire industry. And while this show and the many like it do reflect certain aspects of this complex culture, an over-emphasis on relatively younger artists and mainstream styles means your average viewer is only getting a glimpse of the nuanced entity that is ‘Drag Culture.’ This series, which premieres on Prime Video on Monday, April 20th, introduces audiences to a group of drag queens who aren’t trying to make it as a performer — they already have! And by refusing to nudge them into dramatic conflict, it becomes an intriguing documentary into what it means to be a queer performer today. 

“The level of community, the level of sisterhood and respect that we have for one another [was most important],” said Alexis Gabrielle Sherrington, a Pageant Queens contestant and one of the most decorated titleholders in drag history. “I think that’s what [we] needed for the world to see.” 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by PAGEANT QUEENS (@pageantqueensseries)

It’s a sentiment that every contestant on the series seemed to share, including the ‘Texas Powerhouse’ herself, Layla Larue. “The reality of drag isn’t always pleasant,” she stated, when describing how intimate the documentary becomes at certain points. “I think we always show the glam and the fun side…but it’s our actual lives behind those faces. Behind the crowns and competition, [there are] personal struggles. And so I think it’s healthy to show that part, especially to the younger generation coming up, to let them know that, you know, this is a very serious thing, and it’s not always just about having fun.”

Of course, that’s not to say Pageant Queens won’t feature some of the juicy dramatics that fans love — each queen paired their admiration of their fellow contestants with some comical anecdotes about their ‘quirky’ living habits. And with the entire series leading up to a jaw-dropping pageant, each episode promises stunning feats of the drag performances that each queen has built a career on. Pageant Queens thrives as the reality show many people will come assuming it to be, but it quickly proves itself to be something else. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by PAGEANT QUEENS (@pageantqueensseries)

Looking deeper beneath its glossy veneer reveals a troupe of artists who’ve spent decades fighting to showcase their most authentic, beautiful selves through drag. A group that recognizes that now more than ever, their entire career is being used as a scapegoat for hateful political rhetoric. What sets Pageant Queens apart is not only logistical, although the program should be commanded for shirking your usual reality show conventions and focusing on a lineup of a certain age who are already famous in their communities. Beyond this, what singles Pageant Queens out as such an impactful docuseries is its ability to balance the glitz and glam of drag with the real narrative of trying to showcase your art when it’s being attacked at a governmental scale. Just like the members of its cast, this show combines gorgeous artistry with the real lived experience of what it means to be LGBTQ+ today.

Through their drag, the cast of Pageant Queens reclaim their stories, not only introducing their prowess to a whole new audience but displaying a kind of radical authenticity that modern watchers need to see. And through this show, they’re ready to not only fight for the ultimate ‘Queen of Drag’ title, but for the art form they’ve dedicated their lives to — all while looking utterly fabulous, of course. 

Pageant Queens premieres on Prime on April 20th

‘La Lucci’
By Susan Lucci with Laura Morton
c.2026, Blackstone Publishing
$29.99/196 pages

They’re among the world’s greatest love stories.

You know them well: Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Abelard and Heloise. Phoebe and Langley. Cliff and Nina. Jesse and Angie, Opal and Palmer, Palmer and Daisy, Tad and Dixie. Now read “La Lucci” by Susan Lucci, with Laura Morton, and you might also think of Susan and Helmut.

When she was a very small girl, Susan Lucci loved to perform. Also when she was young, she learned that words have power. She vowed to use them for good for the rest of her life.

Her parents, she says, were supportive and her family, loving. Because of her Italian heritage, she was “ethnic looking” but Lucci’s mother was careful to point out dark-haired beauties on TV and elsewhere, giving Lucci a foundation of confidence.

That’s just one of the things for which Lucci says she’s grateful. In fact, she says, “Prayers of gratitude are how I begin and end each day.”

She is particularly grateful for becoming a mother to her two adult children, and to the doctors who saved her son’s life when he was a newborn.

Lucci writes about gratitude for her long career. She was a keystone character on TV’s “All My Children,” and she learned a lot from older actors on the show, and from Agnes Nixon, the creator of it. She says she still keeps in touch with many of her former costars.

She is thankful for her mother’s caretakers, who stepped in when dementia struck. Grateful for more doctors, who did heart-saving work when Lucci had a clogged artery. Grateful for friends, opportunities, life, grandchildren, and a career that continues.

And she’s grateful for the love she shared with her husband, Helmut Huber, who died nearly four years ago. Grateful for the chance to grieve, to heal, and to continue.

And yet, she says of her husband: “He was never timid, but I know he was afraid at the end, and that kills me down to my soul.”

“It’s been 15 years since Erica Kane and I parted ways,” says author Susan Lucci (with Laura Morton), and she says that people still approach her to confirm or deny rumors of the show’s resurrection. There’s still no answer to that here (sorry, fans), but what you’ll find inside “La Lucci” is still exceptionally generous.

If this book were just filled with stories, you’d like it just fine. If it was only about Lucci’s faith and her gratitude – words that happen to appear very frequently here – you’d still like reading it. But Lucci tells her stories of family, children and “All My Children,” while also offering help to couples who’ve endured miscarriage, women who’ve had heart problems, and widow(ers) who are spinning and need the kindness of someone who’s lived loss, too.

These are the other things you’ll find in “La Lucci,” in a voice you’ll hear in your head, if you spent your lunch hours glued to the TV back in the day. It’s a comfortable, fun read for fans. It’s a story you’ll love.

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

Throwing the party you wish you’d been invited to in 1974, Ari Herstand and Andrew Leib are creating a world that refuses to stay ever so politely onstage. With Brassroots District: LA ’74, their latest immersive concert-theater experience, they are doing so much more than merely revisiting a moment of music’s yesteryear. With this piece of performance art, the audience is plunged headfirst into it, sweat, soul, and sin. Set inside the legendary Jewel’s Catch One, the production pulses with the kind of kinetic energy that turns audiences into partygoers, spectators into witnesses, evaporating the line between performance and experience. Fourth wall, hold onto your hat.

In our conversation, co-creator and producer Andrew Leib pulls back the sequined curtain behind LA ’74, tracing how a fictional funk album release party became the lens for something more akin to a testament to the radical act of joy. What comes forth is a vision as intentional as it is electric, one that honors the past while insisting on its relevance today, inviting us not just to watch history, but to step into it and stay a while. The party’s just getting started…

Congrats on the inception of Brassroots District: LA ’74. What first gravitated you to constructing a story around a fictional ‘74 funk album release party? 

Thank you! We’re so proud of this show.

Brassroots District: LA ’74 is the second ‘episode’ in the Brassroots District universe, with the first being Live in the Lot: Summer ’73, where the band is making waves in LA with their hit single “Together.” Now, after gaining momentum and signing to their lead singer, Ursa Major’s (Celeste Butler Clayton) brother Gil’s (Marqell Edward Clayton) independent label, For the People Records, the band is releasing their debut album. Ari Herstand (co-creator and Copper Jones) and I wanted to mark an inflection point in the band’s career, something that felt electric and unique to attend as a patron and ripe for drama and high stakes. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brassroots District (@brassrootsdistrict)

How does Brassroots District: LA ’74 speak to the everpresent necessity for safe spaces within the LGBTQ+ community today? Can you share with our readers in what way the show reflects the intersection of Black culture and queer identity in Los Angeles?

It starts with the time period. The early ’70s were a turning point with the rise of the Gay Liberation Front, early Pride marches, and a larger sense of people claiming identity and space in a new way. Then there’s the venue. Jewel’s Catch One, founded by Jewel Thais-Williams, was the first Black-owned gay nightclub in the country and a true sanctuary for Black queer communities. And then the music… funk and soul were often flamboyant, expressive, and unapologetic. Bringing it all together, BRD: LA ‘74 lets people step inside those elements to experience what a safe, expressive, and communal space can be.

How do you interpret the idea of nightlife as both escapism and resistance, especially in a historical context like 1970s Los Angeles?

Nightlife has always been a space to step into a bolder, more elevated version of yourself. As a queer person who’s more recently come into myself, I’ve felt that firsthand. The world outside can be chaotic, judgmental, and at times unsafe. But within certain walls, you’re able to show up as you are and express your truest self. 

In the early 1970s, that carried even more weight, people had to seek out underground parties, clubs, or coded magazine ads just to find their community. So even though nightlife can look like escapism on its surface, for many it was also an act of resistance. A way of claiming space, identity, and joy in a world that didn’t always allow it.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brassroots District (@brassrootsdistrict)

How did you approach honoring the real-life shero Jewel Thais-Williams in the character of Gem while avoiding a direct portrayal of the iconic trailblazer that she was? Did working on this production impact your perspective on queer history or nightlife spaces? Is there one part of the show that resonates the most with you, emotionally speaking? 

As soon as we learned about Jewel, we knew we wanted to honor her legacy by channeling her ethos into the show. Rather than creating a direct portrayal, we built the character of Gem (Morgan Danielle Day) to embody the spirit of what she created, a space rooted in safety, freedom, and community, which aligns deeply with our own values. She’s your first touchpoint into the space… a total force of nature from the moment it begins. 

Frankly, I came into this knowing very little about the history of queer nightlife beyond moments like the Stonewall Riots, and working on this production really expanded my perspective. You start to understand how much of the culture we celebrate today was built in spaces that had to fight to exist. 

It’s pretty on the nose, but the end of the show culminates in a raucous Soul Train line, and you catch this moment of unguarded, childlike bliss with people laughing, singing, and dancing with strangers. You really don’t see this energy super often, especially in LA, and it’s moving to witness. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brassroots District (@brassrootsdistrict)

How do your own artistic instincts show up in a piece that’s so deeply rooted in collective memory?

While we want the world to feel real, it’s definitely a heightened, slightly rose-colored version of a time I wasn’t actually present for. I’m a massive music fan, especially when it comes to ’70s funk, soul, rock, and jazz. I grew up watching my dad’s concert DVDs like The Old Grey Whistle Test, and films like Almost Famous really shaped how I romanticize that era. Our incredible writing team, Chris Porter and Lauren Ludwig, really brought the story to life, but Ari and I built the world from our own instincts and from what we would’ve wanted to experience ourselves. 

I also love brand building and art directing, so visual aesthetic was everything. I’ve learned what’s possible for world-building through inspiration like Meow Wolf, Burning Man, Sleep No More, and the Disney theme parks. We have an incredible team of creatives building this world through visuals and storytelling. You can find them all listed here. 

Why is it significant to revisit, remember, and re-stage spaces like Catch One for modern audiences? How did the legacy of Jewel’s Catch One impact the emotional/thematic soul of the production?

We can’t forget the incredibly brave people and the spaces that pioneered queer nightlife. 

Places like Jewel’s Catch One weren’t just venues; they were lifelines for communities that didn’t have many other places to exist safely and freely. The legacy of Jewel deeply shaped the emotional soul of the production, grounding it in themes of belonging, freedom, and (chosen) family. That influence shows up not just in setting, but in relationships like the love story between Gem and Nancy, which we highlight in a way that feels sweet, human, and rooted in that same spirit of authenticity.

If you could step into the shoes of one character from Brassroots District: LA ’74, who would you be and why?

I’d have to say Gem! She’s the matriarch of the club. She knows everybody, and everybody knows her. She’s a force. There’s something really powerful about how unapologetically she moves through the space by setting the tone, protecting the energy, and quietly steering the story. 

What is one behind-the-scenes moment that perfectly captures the spirit of Brassroots District: LA ’74?

This show is a merging of numerous industries… music, theater, and nightlife. There was a moment during our first run-through where all the chaos clicked into harmony and it was incredibly satisfying to witness. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brassroots District (@brassrootsdistrict)

What are some unexpected challenges of creating a fully immersive, audience-moving experience such as this one?

One of the biggest was the merging of numerous industries. There’s a real culture shock at times. Not everyone speaks the same creative language. You’ve got theater actors improvising with audiences who may be drinking, musicians wearing wigs and platform shoes, and then the operational side of working inside a fully functioning nightclub where a reggaeton night is happening on the floor above you. Ari and I come from music and childhood theater backgrounds, but we don’t typically work with nightlife promoters, so it really is a merger of industries. No two nights are the same, and even one person can completely shift the energy of a scene. So the challenge is building something structured enough to hold together, but flexible enough to stay alive, while always prioritizing safety for everyone involved.

How do you influence or guide audiences to engage with the story without tainting the illusion?

We actually give very little direction once audiences are inside the show. You’re free to roam and follow your curiosity. You can experience the story from whatever vantage point you choose, whether that’s staying with the main plot or discovering smaller, more intimate moments along the way. That sense of discovery is what makes immersive theater so special. It’s also a phone-free experience, so people tend to engage more naturally in the space when they’re not thinking about Instagram or snapping a pic. 

Describe the vibe of the show in three words. No overthinking.IF nothing else, what is one thing that you hope for audiences to take away with them after they leave Brassroots District: LA ’74?

Joyful. Nostalgic. Vibrant. 

I hope people come away feeling more alive and more connected to their spirit than when they walked in. 

It’s so important to play. We invite you to do exactly that.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brassroots District (@brassrootsdistrict)

Brassroots District: LA ’74 is at Jewel’s Catch One, 4067 W Pico Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90019, United States

Some have argued that immersive theater is a dying art form – but Monster Party makes a compelling case for its revival. Open April 16-25 at Rita House, this surrealist, LGBTQ+ production is provocative in all the right ways, blending cocktail party decadence with historical reckoning to create a work that can only be defined as ‘campy melodrama.’ Rather than observing from a distance, audience members become active participants in the unfolding narrative.

Audience members wander through the home of The Baroness, a mysterious socialite at the center of it all. Over the course of 2.5 hours, guests are encouraged to mingle, gossip, and interact with performers – gradually weaving themselves into the story. What sets Monster Party apart is that the narrative isn’t simply delivered in a scripted, linear way; instead, it is produced through fragments of conversation, overheard exchanges, and the hazy (often drunken) banter that fills the room.

While Monster Party initially reads as playful chaos – cocktails, games, and audience interaction – something significant unfolds beneath the surface. The story that takes shape draws from a largely under-discussed chapter of American LGBTQ+ history: the Lavender Scare. Set in a stylized version of 1950s Washington, D.C., the show layers supernatural elements onto the real-world persecution of LGBTQ+ government employees, who were outed and fired under the pretense of national security threats.

By revisiting this history, the show feels seemingly relevant, offering audiences a lens through which to reconsider past injustices alongside today’s rising anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment. In Monster Party, the paranoia of that era is transformed into something grotesque and theatrical; it is necessary, immersive storytelling that brings awareness to the broader political world.

But this is not a historical reenactment. Instead, creator Matt Dorado leans into surrealism and camp, using heightened aesthetics to explore the institutional panic of the 1950s. Dorado, who has spent over a decade crafting immersive nightlife and theatrical experiences in Los Angeles, is no stranger to blending spectacle with storytelling. His previous works, including the Drunken Devil series and the grisly dining experience To Live and Di(n)e in L.A., established him as a creator capable of turning unconventional spaces into immersive worlds. With Monster Party, he brings that expertise into a prominent political and historical frame.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 (@monsterpartyshow)

Writer, director, and producer Matt Dorado said Monster Party is “very near and dear to my heart,” adding that he has been creating the project since October 2024. He described the show as both “schlocky melodrama” and “gonzo entertainment,” while explaining that its themes have become “strikingly more relevant” amid “violent political upheaval, unfounded moral panic, and deep division.” Dorado said he hopes the piece will challenge audiences “in new and unexpected ways” while remaining a “lurid, campy immersive” experience.

Choosing Rita House as the venue only heightens the effect. The historic Spanish Colonial building provides an ideal backdrop for a story about hidden histories and performative identities. Its intimate rooms and architectural layout allow the production to unfold in multiple directions at once, encouraging audiences to tell their own stories in the process.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 (@monsterpartyshow)

Importantly, Monster Party is designed to meet audiences wherever they are. Whether you’re a seasoned immersive theater enthusiast or entirely new to the form, the experience remains inviting, accessible, and thoroughly engaging. And true to its title, the production raises a central question: who – or what – is the monster at the party? Is monstrosity something imposed by society, or something individuals come to embody themselves? These questions don’t arrive with easy answers, but instead are examined through participation, drawing audiences deeper into the show’s world.

With limited capacity and a strong emphasis on creativity, curiosity, and surrendering to the experience, Monster Party stands out as one of the more distinctive theatrical offerings in Los Angeles this spring. Tickets are available at: monsterpartyshow.com

Queer gamers everywhere, rejoice — the Gayming Awards are back and better than ever!

Returning for its sixth year, the Gayming Awards are an annual celebration of the queer developers, performers, and advocates who make the games that LGBTQ+ nerds love today. During a time when queer art is constantly under attack, it’s a vital evening of appreciation, of uplifting the voices that are making this multimillion-dollar industry more inclusive for all. And while every iteration has proven amazing, the 2026 edition is promising to be the best one yet — so, of course, it had to be co-hosted by two of the biggest names in LGBTQ+ gaming today!

The Los Angeles Blade sat down with the co-hosts of this year’s Gayming Awards, Dawn and Erika Ishii. Fans of RuPaul’s Drag Race will know Dawn well; originally on the series’ 16th season, this drag queen made waves with both her high-fashion elf aesthetic and hilarious commentary. And along with being a part of the famous TTRPG series Dimension 20, Ishii has broken barriers with their roles in popular franchises like recent hit Ghosts of Yōtei. The pair spoke about how honored they are to be leading this show and why the Gayming Awards are more necessary now than ever. And above all else, they emphasized that this evening will share an important message with everyone watching: there is nothing more powerful than fighting to have your story told. 

“Video games are kind of just a reflection of where we’re at as a [society],” said Dawn, as she spoke to the Blade from the bedecked setup viewers will recognize from her weekly gaming livestreams. The performer has always been a video game fan — she even named herself after a character from the Pokémon franchise! She has a special awareness of how nerd and LGBTQ+ culture intersect, as well as why video games are important to so many queer folks today.  “[Video games] have this really special way of tapping into your brain,” she explained. “You get to roleplay through this [new] life to escape to, especially when the world around us right now is a little bit scary and unfortunate.” It’s a practice that has always existed, but that we’ve really only seen in recent years; queer players have always used video games to escape the pitfalls of reality. But while they once had to enjoy these projects while hiding their identity, now, we’re finally seeing LGBT+ gamers get to build community with one another and push for franchises that reflect the identities of everyone playing them. 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Gayming Magazine (@gaymingmag)

Dawn’s deep love for this medium makes her a perfect co-host for the 2026 Gayming Awards. And she’s paired with the immensely accomplished Erika Ishii who, along with being an avid video gamer lover themselves, has spent the past few years revolutionizing the industry as a whole. 

“It’s rough out there,” said Ishii, when discussing the experience of trying to get a game made today. “I see a lot of people that I know and love getting [their jobs] gobbled up, not having the kind of security or compensation that they really should be entitled to for how profitable this whole industry is.” It’s an issue they’ve seen firsthand; Erika is a successful voice performer, with audiences recognizing their versatile tone in roles like Atsu in Ghost of Yōtei, Ben-hwa in Date Everything, and Valkyrie in Apex Legends. 

Their status as one of the few openly nonbinary voice actors working today means they understand how difficult it is to bring inclusive games to a wide audience. But while this goal may be extremely difficult, they stressed, “I think that anybody with an authentic message has trouble, in this day and age, getting their work funded…and so any time I see [them trying], it’s a huge inspiration for me. 

Both performers understand not only why gaming is important to the LGBTQ+ community, but also what an accomplishment it is to get an inclusive game distributed. This has always been a struggle for queer developers, and recently, it’s only gotten harder. 

Like any creative industry, the past few years have seen game developers get attacked for any attempt at making their projects inclusive — it’s an issue that Ishii has experienced firsthand in almost every role they’ve inhabited! They’re quick to remind players, though, that this isn’t stopping LGBTQ+ games from getting made, with the performer shouting out projects like Baldur’s Gate 3 for being hugely popular and extremely queer. But despite these successes, there is still a growing issue of distributors refusing to invest in LGBTQ+ projects for fear of bigoted backlash. 

“Not to make everything political…but everything kind of is political!” exclaimed Dawn. “We can’t hide. We can’t not be present in these spaces — even if it might not be the most profitable thing for a corporation at the moment. Because we exist. And we’re never not going to.”

Ishii has been at the forefront of the fight for inclusive gaming, with their reasoning being, “I think this is the biggest f**k you to the oppressors, honestly. [Us] being happy, and just loving the things we love out loud…it’s so important right now!” It’s a sentiment that Dawn cited as the heart of the Gayming Awards, saying, “To be able to put on this show and give out these awards to these people that are working in an industry that might not always be the kindest to LGBT people…it’s so important. [For us] to be visible, to be public.”

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Gayming Magazine (@gaymingmag)

With these co-hosts at the helm, there’s no chance that the 2026 Gayming Awards won’t be a fun, affirming space for all. And to all the nominees and everyone thinking of attending, Ishii affirmed, “Life is so hard. But with your hard work, and the way that you put yourself and your art out there…you are creating change. You’re making the world better. And I am so grateful that we get to live in this time where we can create and enjoy art that is truthful [like yours].”

Words of gratitude that so many queer creators deserve to hear right now. And, with Dawn and Erika Ishii as co-hosts, it’s a gratitude that will drive the Gayming Awards and make it not only a fun evening for fans, but a transformative night of love for the many LGBTQ+ people shaping the gaming industry today. 

The Gayming Awards 2026 returns June 8th on WOW Presents Plus. 

Today, the Critics Choice Association (CCA) announced that its annual Celebration of LBGTQ+ Cinema and Television will take place on Friday, May 29. The long-running organization has been honoring filmmaking accomplishments since 1995, and presented its first queer entertainment-centered ceremony in 2024. 

Previous honorees include esteemed queer and trans performing legends like George Takei, Michaela Jaé Rodriguez, Nathan Lane, Wanda Sykes as well as rising stars like Bowen Yang, Tramell Tillman and Benito Skinner. 

This year’s ceremony marks CCA’s 3rd presentation of Hollywood’s most notable and defining queer voices and storytellers. Emmy-award winning actor and comedian Jane Lynch will receive the ‘Groundbreaker Award,’ honoring her prolific career: one defined by her unconventional humor, scene-stealing presence and bold visibility as an out queer woman. 

Writer, actor and director Dan Levy, known for effortlessly slipping into charming, wry and quirky roles in ‘Schitt’s Creek,’ ‘Happiest Season’ and his upcoming crime-comedy show ‘Big Mistakes,’ will receive the Vanguard Award for continually normalizing nuanced, layered queer representation in TV and film. 

Breakout star Hannah Einbinder has been pushing boundaries since her arrival on the scene, and is known for her outspoken activism, her daring and chaotic performance on ‘Hacks,’ and her highly anticipated role in Jane Schoenbrun’s upcoming queer horror-comedy flick ‘Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma.’ Einbinder will receive the Performance Award at CCA’s ceremony. 

Director, screenwriter and producer Jacob Tierney will receive the Showrunner Award for ‘Heated Rivalry,’ a piece of queer art that swept up the internet when it arrived late last November — and hasn’t let go since. Tierney has long centered queer whimsy and joy in his works, and his adaptation of the sexy, tense and whirlwind romance between two queer hockey players transformed the trajectory of the show’s starlets, and left a permanent imprint on the rise of boys love (BL) media and gay storytelling. 

Each of the honorees joins a rapidly expanding universe of boundary-pushing queer art that defies growing anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric. This ceremony celebrates the sharpening of their stories, and the preservation of queer stories on screen.

“Being part of this community means celebrating who we are, how far we’ve come, and acknowledging our collective resilience,” said the ceremony’s co-programmer and co-host Andrew Freund, in a press release. “This year’s honorees are extraordinary—bold, brilliant, and wonderfully unapologetic. They do more than inspire, they light the path forward.”

Kristie Song is a California Local News Fellow placed with the Los Angeles Blade. The California Local News Fellowship is a state-funded initiative to support and strengthen local news reporting. Learn more about it at fellowships.journalism.berkeley.edu/cafellows.

‘The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram’
By Ethelene Whitmire
c.2026, Viking
$30/308 pages

You couldn’t escape it.

When you fell in love, that was it: you were there for good. Leaving your amour’s side was unthinkable, turning away was impossible. You’d do anything for that person you loved – even, as in the new biography, “The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram” by Ethelene Whitmire, you’d escape toward danger.

On Aug. 28, 1938, Reed Peggram boarded a ship from Hoboken, N.J., hoping to “become a proper gentleman” and fulfill his dreams. A prolific writer and Harvard scholar of comparative literature, he’d recently been awarded the Rosenwald Fellowship, which put him in the company of literary stars like Du Bois, Hurston, and Hughes.

Both Peggram’s mother and grandmother were then domestic workers, and they had big expectations for him. Reed himself was eager to study abroad, for professional and personal reasons; he was “determined to become a French professor and an accomplished linguist” and “He also hoped to find love.”

What better place to do it than in Paris?

Outgoing and confident, Peggram made friends easily and had no trouble moving “through the world of his white male peers.” Where he faltered was in his lack of funds. He relied on the kindness of his many friends – one of whom introduced Peggram to a “man who would become so pivotal in his life,” a Danish man named Arne.

Peggram and Arne had a lot in common, and they began to enmesh their lives and dreams of living in the United States. But there were complications: homosexuality was largely forbidden, World War II was in its early stages, and it quickly became apparent that it was dangerous to stay in Europe.

And yet, Peggram loved Arne. He refused to leave without him and so, while most visiting Black Americans fled the war in Europe, “Reed was trying to stay.”

There’s so much more to the story inside “The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram,” so much to know about Reed himself. Problem is, it’s a long haul to get to the good stuff.

In her introduction, author Ethelene Whitmire explains how she came to this tale and yes, it needs telling but probably not with the staggering number of inconsequential details here. Peggram moved homes a lot, and many people were involved in keeping him in Europe. That alone can be overwhelming; add the fact that costs and other monetary issues are mentioned in what seems like nearly every page, and you may wonder if you’ll ever find the reason for the book’s subtitle.

It’s there, nearly halfway through the book, which is when the tale takes a tender, urgent turn — albeit one with determination, rashness, and a dash of faux nonchalance. Also, if you’re expecting an unhappily-ever-after because, after all, it’s a World War II tale, don’t assume anything.

Reading this book will take a certain amount of patience, so skip it if you don’t have that fortitude. If you’re OK with minuscule details and want a heart-pounder, though, “The Remarkable Life of Reed Peggram” might be a good escape.

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

In the world of theatre, few works authentically convey the complexity of lived experience quite like Sanaz Toossi’s English does. The play provides its audiences with five unique voices, each one shaped by migration, memory, and the often quiet and always personal negotiations of identity. English invites us into this world, where language takes on the dual roles of both a bridge and a barrier, where storytelling has borders to spotlight the shared humanity that exists beneath our differences. The play also upholds a deep reverence for Iranian culture, its resilience, and its elegance. This culture is properly portrayed not as a tired trope but as a collection of personal histories and emotional truths.

Equally significant is the space English creates for much-needed representation of the authentic varietal. In amplifying trans voices alongside those of the Iranian diaspora, English challenges narrow narratives and insists on a broader and more inclusive idea of belonging brought vividly to life by Pooya Mohseni in her portrayal of “Roya.” Our interview with Mohseni reflects that same soul. Ultimately, English dares us to consider not just how we speak, but how we listen.

English has been described as a “quietly powerful” meditation on language and identity. What drew you back to the role of Roya for this production?

I’ve loved this play since I read it 8 years ago, and through its growth and its many productions that I’ve been a part of, that love has grown and deepened. Roya, specifically, is very special to me, as I see my grandmother and my mom in her, and her strength and class are for the books, so naturally, when I was asked to join the production at The Wallis, there was only one answer.

You originated the role of Roya on Broadway. How has your relationship to the character evolved since then?

As I said earlier, Roya is very special and somewhat personal to me, as I see the strength and struggles of the women I grew up around in her. But what Roya has done for me is push me and guide me to understand those women on a deeper level. That journey has allowed me to understand the women in my family better and grow as a human. I also would like to add that Roya herself as grown, as we, the artists, have grown and evolved, and her strength, her vulnerability and her resolve have become more clear and specific and the character that is being seen at The Wallis is a more evolved and clear version of the character, which I’m very proud and grateful to get to share with our west coast audiences.

The play uses a fascinating linguistic device where Farsi is performed in American accents and English in Iranian accents. How did you approach that as an actor?

At first, it’s tricky, because as soon as you say a sentence in the wrong accent, you would think “no, that was Farsi!” or “did I say it right?” But in this production, our relationships with the text and the characters are so intimate that we don’t have to think about it because it’s become second nature to us. It comes down to clarity of thought and intention, and when you know what the character is trying to communicate, the accent, the right accent, follows.

Roya is navigating both personal and cultural transitions. What aspects of her journey resonate most deeply with you?

I’m an immigrant. I’m the daughter of an immigrant. My grandparents had other children who migrated. This distance, both culturally and geographically, is something I’ve been around since I was a child. I’ve heard the laments, I’ve seen the heartbreaks, and I’ve also seen the determination to keep hope alive. In short, I’ve grown up in a household, like many Iranian households, that either had a Roya or had different people who were parts of Roya, which has always been the force pushing me to make sure that my portrayal of Roya is done with love and authenticity.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by The Wallis (@thewallisbh)

How does English speak to the Iranian diaspora, particularly in a city like Los Angeles with such a large Iranian American population?

I believe the success and popularity of English has been in its specificity, which has also made it universal, for Iranians and beyond. Having shared it with many audiences before Los Angeles, I think people, specifically the Iranian diaspora, will see some of their own experiences and struggles in English and hopefully feel some validation that there is this award-winning, universally recognised play which honors their lives, their hardships, and their culture.

Playwright Sanaz Toossi has said the work is also a way to “scream” against the vilification of Middle Easterners. How do you feel this message lands with audiences today?

First: Sanaz is the Queen, and she’s my sister, and I love her with all my soul. Second: The circumstances that propelled Sanaz to write this play are still not only prevalent but have intensified and are even more center stage in 2026. I wholeheartedly believe that English is even more relevant now and will continue to be in the decades to come.

Despite its heavy themes, the play is also quite humorous at times. How do you balance humor with its more undeniable emotional undercurrents?

English is a sublime dramedy in its simplicity, in my opinion. The humor lies in its honesty, riding along the struggles and the heavier moments and thoughts that are expressed. Some people have called it a “comedy with a heart,” but I see it as a drama that also embraces the humor of everyday life and human struggles that we all face. When the balance is struck, the play flows beautifully like a wave that moves and exposes different wonders on a shore.

The play has been widely acclaimed since its 2022 debut. Why do you think it continues to resonate so strongly with its audiences today?

English is honest. It’s not flowery or preachy, and in its truth, through the experiences of its characters, it has connected with the critics and the audiences through all its productions. Audiences are smart, and they don’t like to be pandered to, and I believe that is why different audiences, across generations and backgrounds, have found something in our play that speaks to something personal in their lives. I think that will continue for many years to come.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by The Wallis (@thewallisbh)

As an Iranian American and a transgender artist, how do your identities inform the roles you choose and the stories you tell?

As Eve Ensler mentioned in the Vagina Monologues, being transgender is very similar to being an immigrant, because you’re treated, most of the time, like you don’t belong. I was treated that way at school when I was in Iran, and I was treated that way when I moved to New York, and in 2026, as an Iranian American who is also trans, all parts of my identity are under attack. I’ve never been asked to play the person next door, and while that has cut down on the number of things I’m given the opportunity to do, it has also freed me to be me: sassy, unique, and aware of the experiences that differ from mine. I was forced to find MY way because no other way was open to me. I love getting to play outsiders or characters who are outspoken, because I’ve had decades of training. So, having lived my life as me, I choose characters and projects which have heart, grit, and that I feel add something of value to the world, even if it’s just a laugh.

You’ve been open about your experiences with trauma and survival. How has storytelling served as a tool for healing in your life?

If you think about therapy, it’s basically storytelling. It has definitely been that way for me. Especially if the story has some personal connection, either to the Iranian side of me or the trans part of my identity. I’ve been fortunate to have worked on great stories that ring true to some part of me, and through finding the essence of the character, I have found my way through my own heart and soul. It feels strange to say that thousands of people have been witnesses to my therapy through the years, but it is kind of true, and I like to think it’s been not just therapeutic for me, but more like group therapy, shared between the viewers and me.

You’re also a writer and filmmaker. How do those creative outlets influence your acting process?

Being a writer and having been involved in making a couple of films has definitely widened my horizon as an actor. I now know more about what happens in other aspects of a production, so I think it makes me a more aware actor, who also has so much more respect for what it takes to create a story and turn that into a final product, and all the steps that need to be taken for a film to happen.

What do you hope audiences take away from English after leaving the theater?

I hope it reinvigorates their love for theater and what that can be. I hope it makes them think about themselves and others with more love and grace. Maybe, they feel seen by the play, or maybe, just maybe, English helps them see others who have different experiences or sound and look different from them, with more love and curiosity, rather than fear and disdain.

Looking at the future, what kinds of stories or roles are you most excited to explore next?

I love playing matriarchs because I think I have that in me, and more mature roles have so much potential and depth. I hope to continue to play unique and interesting, maybe even really dark characters. I’m not the first person to want to play juicy roles, but having already covered my journey to this moment, I hope to keep going through the path of finding new types of characters to explore: mothers, bosses, villains, and maybe even love interests. But above all, I want to play parts that are written with love and care and house multitudes, instead of tokens and shallow, flat objects of either fetishization or pity. I keep working towards that and will take roles, hopefully, that make me grateful to be a storyteller.

English runs at the Wallis Apr 4, 2026 – Apr 26, 2026

You don’t have to look far to support your local non-binary musician. Meet Ross Alan, who you’ve probably seen around town. They can easily be recognized by their stunning eyes, genteel demeanor, and killer fashion sense. 

They’ve performed and sold out in venues nationwide, from Pete’s Candy Store in New York City and Davenport’s in Chicago to iconic Los Angeles stages like Hotel Café, The Viper Room, the Hard Rock Cafe Hollywood, and Whisky a Go Go. This year, they were nominated for an LA Blade Best of LA Award. 

Alan is building toward their next chapter: a bold country-disco fusion project slated for 2026. They took some time to enlighten us about the spirit behind the rocker and give us a little insight and inside tea.

How did you get into music? 

One day, as a kid, I sat down and watched Sister Act 2. There is a scene when Ryan Toby’s character hits his high note in their rendition of “Oh Happy Day,” and something changed in my soul and body. It was like all the atoms I’m made of woke up. 

Now I’ve been making music for 15 years. To have such a specific and voracious moment like that. I knew, so young, that music was what I wanted to do. There was no surprise on my end that this is where I ended up. I mean, I can queue up the memory of me doing the choreography to “Oops I Did It Again” at my uncle’s wedding at the age of 10 or singing in our family garage while my stepdad worked on cars. Art is in my blood. 

How long have you been performing? 

I’ve been performing as Ross Alan for the last 6 years. I was performing before that under a different artist name for a decade, but I’ve toured domestically a good bit in the last 3 years or so. I am so excited to be getting all this new music from my upcoming record out and really getting the chance to shine on stage with it. Performing is where I feel the most secure in what I’m doing as an artist.

What do you love about music/live performance in LA? 

Well, LA is home now. I’ve lived in the Midwest and the South, and I spent years living in New York and Chicago. But performing in Los Angeles always feels safe because this is like my actual home. It feels like I can take bigger risks out in the bars, it feels like I can try new things, and still be embraced by my peers. I think everyone here is chasing their dream, knowing that everyone is straddling their own form of bravery in the pursuit of their goals. There is a vulnerability we all share, and that makes the art so much better.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by ROSS ALAN (@rossalanmusic)

What do you love about Los Angeles/West Hollywood? 

I’ve been in Los Angeles now for 5 years, and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t still smile on my commute. And from stupid stuff, right? Like palm trees lining a street, or a really gorgeous sunset backlit by the Hollywood neon horizon. I’m such a romantic, it makes sense that I’m a songwriter. There is just not a day that goes by that I don’t meet someone doing something cool or planning something amazing. My community is so sensational, and the environment of this city breeds serenity, innovation, and a level of togetherness I’ve never felt anywhere else.

What brought you to LA? 

Music! Fame! Hot people! Warmth! 

No, honestly. I hate being cold, and moving here from Chicago was like the deepest exhale I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve wanted to live in Los Angeles since I was a kid – and not in a way that I understood. Like I knew I needed to be here, but I didn’t know why. And 30 years later, here we are, and I was right. Sometimes you just know where you’re meant to be, but you don’t know when. So sometimes you gotta just ride the ride.

What is your passion? 

I think a younger version of me would have said music or art or something plain. But I’m approaching 35. I think my passion is creation for the intention of being perceived and being understood. 

I think we all pursue our own alleyways of work, relationships, and expression in order to be understood. Not necessarily from outside parties, but even on our own. I pursue a deeper understanding of myself, my music, and my purpose every day. I love that in a world filled with any and every resource known to man, we can use those tools to be seen and validated in our experiences. Those moments of realizing you aren’t alone are vital in my eyes, to know someone else hears you. I’m very passionate about making sure everyone feels heard and that empathy isn’t a lost art. 

What’s a weird thing you learned about life from performing? 

My mantra for every performance is “It might be the last night, but it is only one night.” You have to treat it like you will never get on the stage again. Leave everything up there: your sweat, your vulnerability, your art. It could be the last time you ever get to show people who you are and what’s important to you. But it is also only one night. 

So if I flub with a lyric, or miss a step or mark – it’s okay. That’s the nature of live performance and being on a stage in front of an audience. I’m human, so mistakes are bound to happen. And it’s not letting those tiny slips get to you. Because I’m a perfectionist, I want every moment to go off as I planned it. But that’s not reality. So you really have to go in saying, “It might be the last night, but it is only one night.” Go hard, but be gentle.

Favorite spot in Los Angeles?

I have a few! Love a classic Griffith Observatory hike. I go to Los Globos in Silverlake pretty regularly for queer line dancing with Stud Country. The best breakfast burrito is Wake N’ Late in Hollywood. I swear by that place. I’ll walk the floral district in DTLA for any number of incredible blooms, and that is definitely a soul lift. Rustic Coffee in Santa Monica has the best sandwich in the world. You walk up to the airstream, order the chicken caprese – you’re so welcome. And lastly, I’d say the Hollywood Farmers Market on any given Sunday. Live music, talented local vendors, and fresh produce. Absolutely.

How has Los Angeles changed you? 

It has made me more patient. It’s made me work harder. It makes me more and more queer every day. What a paradise.

What piece of advice would you give to your younger self? 

You know who you are. Don’t let others scare you away from being exactly that. It’s your superpower.

If you could make one wish for Los Angeles, what would it be? 

I could say so many things. Fortified infrastructure, improved disaster relief, mandatory driving classes, better systems of support for the unhoused population, removal of ICE in every fucking capacity, increased public transit availability, financial aid to small local businesses and the arts. I love this city. I want it to thrive.  

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by babygaytv (@babygaytv)

What do you want for the queer community? 

Above all, honestly? Safety. For my trans siblings, for my non-binary siblings. For our youth. For those in our community who don’t feel safe in their own homes. It’s been said so many times, but none of us are free until all of us are. So what are we doing about it? Being queer is not a luxury; it’s a privilege. 

I don’t want us to have to battle forever – but the battle is not done. It’s so obvious that the battle isn’t over, and it really hurts seeing that so many people think that just because we got marriage equality and because I can wear a skirt in Los Angeles. I need those who have privilege to use it against the forces that wish us harm. Protect our community. 

I’m talking to allies too. Because as Bad Bunny coined at the super bowl, “the only thing more powerful than hate is love”. And love is what the queer community is made of.

What do you look for in a person? 

As I’ve gotten older, the bar has never been lower, but it’s also never been more serious. I look for prowess with communication. I look for independence and stability. I look for baseline physical attraction, and I look for a good sense of humor. The rest? It really doesn’t matter. I love so many different types of people, and the only real thing that matters is chemistry. The rest will work itself out if it is supposed to.

Celebrity crush? 

I have so many. Laith Ashley, Justice Smith, Sophia Bush, Rachel McAdams, and Danny Ramirez. The list is long!

What is your favorite thing to do in your downtime? 

Watch scary movies and rhinestone stage costumes for myself.

Follow Ross Alan on IG.