As a youth, Bob Gordon urged his mom to quit smoking, worried she’d die because of it. Decades later, Gordon has remained passionate about his crusade for smoke-free living. 

Gordon lost three relatives to smoking, including his favorite cousin Richard. But Gordon first got into his anti-smoking activism after having to be subjected to a smoking work environment. 

He was so impacted by the constant smoky office that he went to City Hall and gave testimony to the County Board of Supervisors, who were considering a workplace smoke-free ordinance at the time.

From then on, Gordon worked on various tobacco control policies, with a focus on reducing smoking within his LGBTQ+ community. He was formerly the project director of the California LGBT Tobacco Education Partnership — which was funded through California’s Tobacco Prevention Program. 

He volunteered with the American Cancer Society and the American Cancer Society Cancer Action Network. He was also co-chair of the San Francisco Tobacco Free Coalition for seven years.

“I just think big tobacco would put nicotine in the air and the water if they could,” Gordon said.

Gordon also regularly speaks as an anti-tobacco advocate for Kick It California, as a volunteer coach. Kick It California is a program that helps people quit tobacco use and smoking through free one-on-one coaching. The program has major funding provided by the California Department of Public Health and First 5 California, according to its website.

Part of the Kick It campaign is acknowledging how LGBTQ+ communities and communities of color are disproportionately impacted by tobacco marketing and long-term use.

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LGBTQ+ students had a “significantly higher prevalence of any tobacco, vape, cigarette, and cannabis use in comparison to non-LGBTQ+ students,” according to a 2024 study by the California Tobacco Prevention Program. The study also found that LGBTQ+ youth had a “significantly higher” rate of starting to smoke by the age of 13, compared to non-LGBTQ+ youth.

Queer adults typically smoke more than non-queer people overall, according to LGBT Minus Tobacco, a program also funded by the California Tobacco Prevention Program. 

Gordon has long been fascinated by tobacco marketing and has seen firsthand and also through archival resources how marketing has targeted LGBTQ+ people over the decades. As an avid reader of queer magazines and books, Gordon remembers when smoking ads started to creep into LGBTQ+ media.

“Seeing tobacco ads work its way into those glossy (LGBTQ+) national magazines, I was noticing alcohol and tobacco seem like peanut butter and jelly for our community,” Gordon said. “Why weren’t healthy things advertised to us? Why weren’t non-addictive things advertised to us?”

“It was a specific attempt to realize that our queer community was smoking at higher rates and capitalize on our loyalty, if you will, to these products,” he added.

Gordon even started collecting ads that appeared in the Bay Area Reporter and Frontiers.

Most egregious to Gordon was when he started to see smoking ads and booths at Pride events, a time that is for “celebration and recognizing our history and our health and longevity, hopefully.” He’s seen a few electronic smoking brands pop up at Pride events in Florida and other states.

One example he remembers is Camel having a full-page newspaper ad about Pride where they did a twist on the word Pride, and basically listed 10 queer bars where you could go pick up your Camel paraphernalia.

“This was a concerted effort to get the queer community to either try the brands or continue to use those brands and really hang on to us forever,” Gordon said. “And of course, people of color within the queer community are doubly and sometimes triply targeted by big tobacco.” 

While bans have led to reduced smoking rates over the last twenty years, flavored tobacco use did not decline among Black adults as it did for white adults, despite California’s ban on flavored tobacco. 

White adults had a larger decline in smoking rates as well, according to a study on the National Library of Medicine website that examined trends in smoking and flavored tobacco use in California from 2003–2023.

“These findings suggest that Black populations in California may have been left behind by tobacco control progress, especially regarding flavored products,” the study conclusion said.

The conclusion attributes this disparity to the “targeted marketing by the tobacco industry, the role of flavors in increasing dependence, and reduced access to cessation resources in Black communities.”

Gordon said it’s important that LGBTQ+ people who are interested in quitting smoking don’t feel individually blamed for being overrepresented among this data.

“We get blamed for enough; there’s enough stigma and guilt and shame in our community; we don’t need any more of that,” Gordon said. “It’s not all on us; the tobacco industry has totally capitalized on making us feel wanted.”

“In these terrible times where there’s so much anti-trans legislation, for example, and so many things happening, we don’t need any more discrimination. We don’t need any more heartache,” Gordon added. “We need to stand together against big tobacco.”

For those who are interested in quitting smoking now or in the future, he said Kick It California follows a stop smoking program most hospitals use. The five D’s of this are: delay, distract, drink water, deep breaths, discuss. 

“A lot of people don’t realize that if you just wait three or four minutes, there’s a really good chance that the craving will subside,” Gordon said. “So if you can just hold off a little bit as you’re cutting down or trying to quit, that’s a useful tool. Drinking water, something with the hand and mouth, is really helpful instead of an electronic smoking device.”

He encourages those trying to stop or reduce smoking to look for alternative ways of making your brain feel good.

“When people really want to make a change, when they really believe they can and have resources, they can do it,” he said. “It’s difficult, but many people have quit. Don’t give up.”

For resources and more information, visit www.kickitca.org.

In addition to the growing list of sexualities, we’re expanding how we look at our relationships. Whether you’re monogamous, open, or living in a pansexual polycule, love is love.  Daniel, Will, and Caleb, the hosts of the A Little Throuple Tea podcast, have invited the world into their unique relationship to show them the ins and outs of throuple life. 

This tell-all podcast is one part of 3Dudes1Life Creative, which also includes a romantic memoir series, Tres Amigos, Una Vida, and a budding lifestyle brand that’s destigmatizing living and loving in a threesome. 

You’ve got Will, the HBIC with the clipboard and mastermind behind creating this whole enterprise. You’ve got Caleb, the grounded, pragmatic one with a dry sense of humor. Then there’s Daniel, the creative who brings humor, creativity, and spirituality into the mix. 

The guys took some time to share their origin story and how they make it all work. They are also quick to dispel any fantastical fixations and morbid misconceptions about their romance. They’re direct, plainspoken, and most importantly grounded in a relationship they’ve built that works for them. 

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So how did you all meet? 

Will: I moved to Southern California from South Dakota in 2006 for college and met Caleb later that year before going out to Rich’s one night. He was in the Navy, and our friends set us up. We have been together ever since. 

In 2010, we met Daniel through nightlife and started a friendship. We actually tried the “throuple” thing back in 2011, but it didn’t last long. We continued our friendship after that, but in 2016, after a trip to the Dominican Republic, our second attempt at a throuple began. Since then, we have been together for over a decade, enjoying this wild ride called life. 

Caleb: I came from a small city in West Texas, Lubbock. I was 20 at the time, renting a cheap hotel in downtown, and drinking with shipmates was the usual. After seeing places like Australia, Hong Kong, Japan, Dubai, and Malaysia, I had a shipmate tell me about her friend who was single. By the time we got back to port, her single friend was no longer single, but they did introduce me to Will.

He tried to seduce me by introducing himself in just a towel, which worked. After going out that night, we started to hang out every weekend. And then soon after that, I was moving in with him, and the rest is history. 

Daniel was an avid bar goer who spent at least 6 nights a week bar hopping. Will, being the hip-hop DJ that he is, would draw Daniel and his friends to his dance floor. Soon after, they started talking on Facebook and a friendship blossomed. One night, when Will was DJing, Daniel and his friends, of course, came out to dance. I came out later that night, and when I went to go say hi to Will, he told me that Daniel was there and pointed him out on the dance floor. 

The night was mostly a blur after that from shots, drinks, Daniel backing it up on me, and ending with some greasy food. I’m pretty sure they all crashed at our place that night cause pretty much every weekend after that, Daniel and his friends were crashing at our place. 

Daniel: We all met in Hillcrest while Will was DJing back in 2010. I had always known who Will was from the local scene, but our actual introduction happened when he sent me a Facebook message offering to get me into the bar for free. That night, I met both Will and Caleb, and the rest is history. 

What do you feel is the biggest misconception about being in a throuple? 

Daniel: The biggest misconception is that a throuple is all about sex. In reality, our relationship is like any other.  We have conversations, challenges, ups and downs, quality time together, and yes, intimacy too. It’s all about balance. 

Caleb: I think that the biggest misconception is that because we are a polyamorous relationship, we are open in our relationship. Now, yes, Will and I weren’t open per-say but we did have some hot, heated times, and we always played together. I think if we didn’t have some occasional fun together, the idea of being a throuple would have been out of the question. But as soon as we became an official throuple, we closed the door and are monogamous now. 

Will: That someone must be a “homewrecker” or that the original couple must not have been happy together. It’s almost as if people think adding a third person will somehow fix a struggling relationship. For us, the evolution from friendship to partners happened naturally. Adding a third personality and dynamic to a relationship doesn’t fix problems—if anything, it requires a lot more communication, trust, and work to make it successful. 

Another misconception is that it’s just a phase. Maybe for some people it is, but for us it definitely isn’t. We’ve built a life together, and in the end, it has made all three of us better men. 

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What inspired the podcast? 

Caleb: This is a Will question, lol. After having a great success with an LGBTQ+ day at state and county fairs called “Out at the Fair”, current political views quickly turned what was a successful, family-friendly LGBTQ+ day into the “red-headed stepchild” no one wanted. 

So Will did what any CEO would do; he pivoted! He saw how popular “Out at the Fair” was, along with a few side hustles; we had an Etsy that was gaining traction, and for some reason people wanted to know who we were. So he started a blog. Then the blog very quickly became the podcast. 

Will: We have been told for years that we should record our life and share our story. Over the last year, I experienced some major changes in our business, and it gave us the opportunity to pivot in a new direction. 

Instead of dwelling on things we couldn’t control, we decided to turn that frustration and uncertainty into a creative project. That’s how the podcast was born. It became a way for us to share our experiences, our relationship, and the ups and downs of life with the world. 

When we first got together, there really weren’t many examples of long-term throuples living normal lives. We wanted people to see that our life isn’t all that different from anyone else’s. We work, pay bills, argue about dinner, take care of our dogs, and try to build a future together. 

At the end of the day, it’s really just three guys talking about life, love, chaos, and everything in between—and people seem to connect with that. 

Daniel: The inspiration mainly came from our Instagram page. We get a lot of questions about how our relationship works, where we’re from, and how we met. With the following we built on Instagram, Will had the idea of starting a podcast and sharing more of our lives through conversations on a mic and camera. The podcast gives people a chance to hear answers to their questions while also seeing our authentic personalities, how we communicate, and how much we tease each other. It’s been a lot of fun to create. 

Do you think anyone could be in a throuple, or do you feel you’re uniquely suited for each other? 

Will: I don’t think being in a throuple is for everyone, and that’s okay. We can tell by some of the reactions, facial expressions, and comments we receive that it isn’t something everyone understands or would want for themselves. 

But for the people it does work for, it can be amazing—and really, that’s all that matters. At the end of the day, every relationship is unique. Ours just happens to have three people instead of two. 

Daniel: I think anyone could be in a throuple if the connection, communication, and mutual respect are there. That said, I’ve had many people tell me they couldn’t do it because they’d be too jealous or wouldn’t want to share their partner. I understand that feeling. In my experience, jealousy often shows up when someone doesn’t feel secure, equal, or heard. Communication is what helps navigate those feelings. When everyone feels valued and understood, a throuple can be an incredibly loving and supportive relationship. 

Caleb: No, I don’t think a throuple is for everyone. They are not for the weak-hearted. And I feel like you have to be emotionally mature. I say that because, like all relationships, jealousy can play a huge role, especially when there are more than 2 people in a relationship. 

What do you think is the secret to your relationship success? 

Daniel: I call it the “triangle of support.” We’re able to balance each other and lean on one another. If a misunderstanding or disagreement happens, the third person can often provide perspective and help us better understand each other. I also think our success comes from the fact that we were friends first. We know each other deeply, understand how each person communicates, and genuinely enjoy spending time together. 

Will: Communication. I know most would say, ‘Well, duh,’ but when you add a third personality, family, career, schedule, and life into the mix, communication becomes even more important. If you aren’t talking about everything and anything, it’s easy for someone to feel left out or not included. Honestly, our group chat is ridiculous, but it’s also one of the reasons we thrive. We stay connected throughout the day, work through issues as they come up, and make sure everyone feels heard. It may sound simple, but consistent communication has been the foundation of our relationship’s success. 

Caleb: I guess really there’s nothing different than a traditional relationship. We try to make a monthly date night, we take vacations together, we give each other our space when we need it and support each other when it’s too hard to stand. And of course we try to keep it spicy in the bedroom. It is easier to spice things up when you have 2 ‘joysticks’ to play with. 

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What would you say is the most important aspect of your relationship?  

Daniel: Communication and the ability to be silly together. We joke with each other constantly, and that keeps life fun. Being able to laugh together makes even stressful situations feel a little lighter. 

Will: The most important aspect of our relationship is knowing that none of us ever has to face life alone. No matter how bad the day is or how difficult a situation becomes, there is always someone there to lean on. We call it our “triangle of support.” When one of us is struggling, the other two are there to help carry the load. At the end of the day, knowing you are loved, supported, and never alone is a pretty powerful thing. 

Caleb: Us 3 are all totally different personalities! I think that’s why we work so great together. Otherwise life would just be too boring. 

Check out their 3Dudes1Life app to access their podcast, their book, and more!

And look for more of these guys on the Los Angeles Blade. Part 2 of our interview with them, answering relationship questions, is on the way, and we will be sharing the latest episodes of their podcast right here!

Some people collect job titles. Stephen Muhwezi seems to collect meaningful challenges and rises to them. Public health advocate, human rights defender, community builder, and reluctant refugee, his résumé reads like a masterclass in refusing to allow circumstances to have the final word. From Uganda to Los Angeles, Muhwezi has spent his life proving that courage is about showing up no matter what stands in your way, often with little more than hope, determination, and an uncanny ability to build community wherever he lands.

As the founder of one of western Uganda’s first LGBTQ+ organizations, Muhwezi helped create spaces where people could access healthcare, dignity, and belonging in the face of extraordinary hostility. Today, after surviving persecution, forced displacement, and the challenge of starting over on a new continent, he continues to champion the simple but radical idea that everyone deserves to live authentically and with hope. In our conversation with him, Muhwezi reflects on the people, moments, and lessons that shaped his journey, and why, even after everything, he still believes the most powerful force for change is community.

Can you share a bit about your experiences in your youth that shaped who you are today and what first inspired you to dedicate your life to advocating for LGBTQ+ people, despite knowing the personal risks involved?

Leadership is not measured by the absence of hardship. It is measured by what you choose to build despite it. My story did not begin with persecution. It began with purpose. For many years, I worked under the pseudonym Dismus Kevin Aine, not because I wanted to hide who I was, but because visibility carried extraordinary risks. Today, I proudly use my legal name, Stephen Muhwezi. That change represents the freedom to live authentically and continue serving others openly.

I was the youngest of nine children, raised in rural Uganda. After losing my parents at a young age, my older brothers and sisters sacrificed their own dreams so that mine could continue. They taught me my first lessons in leadership through responsibility, compassion, and love.

My childhood was filled with dancing, family meals, and church. Church gave me my first sense of community, but as I came to understand my identity, it also became a place where I no longer felt I belonged. That experience strengthened my belief that every person deserves dignity, compassion, and acceptance.

Growing up in rural Uganda also exposed me to the realities of healthcare inequality. Long walks to distant clinics taught me that where someone is born should never determine whether they have access to healthcare, opportunity, or hope. These experiences led me to study science, then public health, and ultimately to dedicate my life to serving communities too often left behind.

You founded one of the first LGBTQ+ organizations in rural Western Uganda. What needs did you see that others weren’t addressing?

In 2010, I founded Rainbow Health Foundation Uganda to create something many believed was impossible: a place where LGBTQ+ people could access healthcare, support, and community outside the capital. Rainbow was never simply an office. It was a home. 

With only three volunteers, we built a welcoming space offering HIV education, health workshops, rights education, psychosocial support, livelihood programs, and community gatherings. People traveled from across Uganda because they knew they would be treated with dignity.

I believed leadership meant serving alongside others—whether facilitating workshops, welcoming visitors, or cleaning the office after everyone had gone home. People trusted Rainbow because we built it together.

For me, this work was never only about advocacy. In Uganda, public health and human rights were inseparable. When fear kept people from seeking healthcare, protecting dignity became part of protecting health.

Your work focused on HIV prevention, healthcare access, and community support. Can you share a moment that reminded you why this work mattered so deeply?

One of my happiest memories was our annual Transgender Visibility celebration. People arrived carrying clothes they could not safely wear in public. Friends helped one another get ready, laughter filled the rooms, and for a few precious hours they were free to be themselves.

Before going home, many changed back. But for those few hours, Rainbow had given them something no law could take away: the freedom to exist without fear.

When Uganda’s anti-LGBTQ+ crackdown intensified, your life changed dramatically. What was going through your mind as you realized you were no longer safe?

As Rainbow grew, so did the attention surrounding our work. Then everything changed.

I was publicly outed on the front page of a national tabloid. Almost overnight, fear became part of everyday life. A ringing phone could mean another summons from investigators. A knock at the office door could mean a police raid.

Every journey home ended with the same quiet question: Will I make it home safely today?

Our offices were raided. I was repeatedly questioned. Harassment and threats became routine.

But the greatest concern was never my own safety. Every attempt to intimidate Rainbow threatened the people who depended on it for healthcare, support, and hope.

Working alongside human rights organizations, I documented violations affecting LGBTQ+ communities across western Uganda, helping ensure their experiences became part of Uganda’s national Human Rights Violations Report. Those years taught me a lesson I still carry with me:

Leaving your home meant leaving behind your community, your work, and the life you had built. What was the hardest part about starting over in Los Angeles?

In 2017, I visited the United States through the International Visitor Leadership Program, joining emerging leaders from across Africa. As we visited universities, nonprofits, and government institutions, one thing stood out: organizations preserved their history and celebrated the people who built them. It made me wonder how many community leaders across Africa devote their lives to service without their stories ever being told. Looking back, I think that realization planted the seed for sharing my own.

The greatest lesson, however, came from my fellow delegates. Although we came from different countries, we shared a common purpose: building healthier, stronger, and more inclusive communities.

After surviving persecution and displacement, did the LA wildfire ever make you question whether you could keep going? What helped you find your perseverance again?

In 2014, a woman named Roberta reached out after learning about Rainbow Health Foundation. A simple message became a lasting friendship. Years later, when I arrived in Los Angeles, she welcomed me into her home. Then the Palisades wildfire destroyed it. She lost the place she loved, while I lost many of the few belongings I had managed to bring from Uganda. Even while rebuilding her own life, she never stopped encouraging mine. Her friendship reminded me that rebuilding is rarely something we do alone. Sometimes the greatest act of leadership is believing in someone before they are fully able to believe in themselves.

After spending so many years advocating for others in Uganda, what has it been like to be on the receiving end of support through the Tiyya Foundation?

For much of my career, I was the person connecting others with services and helping communities navigate difficult circumstances. Receiving support myself was unfamiliar.

When I arrived in the United States, I realized that rebuilding requires a different kind of courage: the willingness to accept help.

Through Tiyya, I found more than practical assistance. I found a community that understands rebuilding is about more than employment or housing. It is about learning new systems, rebuilding confidence, and finding a sense of belonging. That experience reminded me that strength lies not only in giving support, but also in allowing yourself to receive it.

How has that experience influenced the way you think about community and this new chapter in your life?

It reinforced something I have believed for many years: no one rebuilds alone. Whether through Rainbow Health Foundation, colleagues in public health, friendships across continents, or organizations like Tiyya, every meaningful chapter of my life has been shaped by people who believed in one another.

Today, I hope to continue that cycle by using my own experiences to help others beginning again. To me, community is people walking alongside one another, making the journey a little less lonely and a little more hopeful.

Being granted asylum represents so much more than a legal status. How has it changed your life?

Being granted asylum gave me safety, stability, and the freedom to begin rebuilding my life.

What surprised me most was that starting over involved much more than finding a place to live. It meant learning unfamiliar systems, translating years of professional experience into a new context, and living with uncertainty about what comes next.

That uncertainty has been one of the greatest challenges. But I have learned that purpose does not disappear simply because certainty does. I may not always know where the road is leading, but I know why I continue walking it.

You’re now pursuing a career in public health and nonprofit leadership. How has your lived experience shaped the kind of leader you hope to become?

Today I work as a professional caregiver while preparing for the next chapter of my career. Although it may seem different from my work in Uganda, it is rooted in the same values: dignity, compassion, and service.

I am also completing a Project Management Certificate through Calbright College while preparing for the CAPM certification. Studying project management has helped me recognize that many of the skills I developed building Rainbow Health Foundation – planning, partnerships, budgeting, implementation, and evaluation—are the same principles I practiced throughout my career.

My commitment to public health also took me to Sweden, where I earned a Master’s degree in Global Health at the University of Gothenburg. One classroom discussion remains especially meaningful. As classmates debated how laws influence health, I found myself thinking about people I had known in Uganda – individuals who delayed HIV testing or avoided healthcare because of fear and discrimination.

When I shared those experiences, I wasn’t speaking from theory. I was speaking from lived experience. That moment reinforced something I still believe today: evidence tells us what is happening, but lived experience helps us understand why it matters.

Looking ahead, I hope to continue working where public health, healthcare administration, nonprofit leadership, and project management intersect. My purpose remains the same: to strengthen systems, build partnerships, and help create healthier, more dignified communities.

How do you see the connection between healthcare, human rights, and dignity for LGBTQ+ communities around the world?

Healthcare, human rights, and dignity are inseparable. When people fear discrimination because of who they are, they are less likely to seek care, trust health systems, or participate in prevention programs. Protecting dignity is therefore a public health intervention. This has never been only about LGBTQ+ communities. It is about building societies where healthcare is guided by compassion, evidence, and respect for every person’s humanity.

As someone who has lived through persecution and displacement, what message would you share with other refugees rebuilding their lives?

Leaving Uganda was never the life I imagined. But I have learned that uncertainty and purpose can exist together. I am still building. I am still learning. Still becoming. The future is not something we wait to find. It is something we continue to build.

What has surprised you most about rebuilding your life in Los Angeles?

The support I found. Organizations like Tiyya reminded me that rebuilding is not only about employment or housing. It is about belonging. Their Economic Advancement program has helped me prepare for employment and build a foundation for the future. More importantly, it reminded me that every new beginning is easier when someone walks beside you.

If you could sit down with lawmakers or people who question the importance of LGBTQ+ protections, what would you want them to understand?

I would ask them to see people before politics. Behind every law are people trying to care for their families, contribute to their communities, and live healthy lives. Laws influence whether people feel safe seeking healthcare, reporting violence, or simply existing openly.

I would encourage policymakers to listen not only to experts, but also to the lived experiences of the people their decisions affect.

You’ve survived persecution, forced displacement, and natural disaster, yet you continue to advocate for others. What do you hope readers take away from your story?

If I am fortunate enough to reach my eighties, I hope I will not be remembered for what I survived. I hope I will be remembered for what I helped build. Because if my life has taught me anything, it is this: Leadership is not measured by the absence of hardship. It is measured by what you choose to build despite it.

For more information, head to Tiyya.org.

A free community screening of AIDS Diva: The Legend of Connie Norman will take place Thursday, June 4, at CASA 0101 in Boyle Heights, honoring the life and legacy of one of Los Angeles’ most powerful transgender AIDS activists.

The evening begins with a 7 p.m. reception and community space, followed by a 7:30 p.m. screening of the documentary with Spanish subtitles. At 8:30 p.m., filmmaker Dante Alencastre will join moderator ChiChi for a post-screening conversation about Norman’s life, activism, and continued relevance.

Connie Norman, often called the “AIDS Diva,” was a defining voice in ACT UP/LA and a fierce advocate for transgender people, people living with HIV/AIDS, and communities abandoned by political institutions during the height of the crisis. Through public access television, radio, protest, writing, and community organizing, she challenged silence with humor, fury, and an unmistakable sense of moral clarity. In fact, my own grandmother knew Connie Norman during her time in ACT UP.

Alencastre said what first drew him to Norman’s story was “the force of her voice and the urgency of her truth.”

“Connie Norman wasn’t just an activist,” Alencastre told the Blade, “She was fearless, funny, deeply compassionate, and uncompromising in the way she confronted stigma, hypocrisy, and silence during one of the most devastating periods of the AIDS crisis.”

For Alencastre, Norman’s story felt especially urgent because it sits at the intersection of multiple histories that have too often been pushed to the margins: transgender history, AIDS activism, and LGBTQ+ resistance in Los Angeles.

“She was often ahead of her time, articulating through her own personal experiences ideas around gender fluidity, solidarity, and structural inequity long before those conversations entered the mainstream,” Alencastre said.

The documentary, which won the Best Film Audience Award at the 23rd Thessaloniki International G.L.A.D. Film Festival and was an Official Selection at Outfest 2021, combines newly discovered archival footage with reflections from all kinds of individuals – from activists and scholars to community members who knew Norman or continue to be influenced by her work.

Alencastre described the archival process as both meaningful and challenging, defining it as “detective work,” with materials “scattered across personal collections, old tape archives, community organizations, and private hands.” Much of the footage had not been seen for decades.

“What made it extraordinary was that every discovery felt like Connie speaking directly back into the present,” Alencastre explained, “Finding footage of her on her cable show, speaking at protests, or delivering one of her fearless, funny, and deeply incisive commentaries was electrifying.”

That archival presence gives the film much of its pathos. Norman does not appear as an antiquated historical subject being remembered by others; she is seen as a living voice, speaking to our contemporary moment. Her speeches, interviews, and media appearances reveal a figure who understood that the AIDS crisis was a product of government negligence and stigmatization.

Alencastre said he wants audiences to walk away with the idea that Norman is not just an activist but a strategist.

“Connie understood that real change required coalition-building across communities that didn’t always naturally align,” he told the Blade. “She moved between worlds – ACT UP/LA, trans advocacy, queer spiritual communities, media spaces, and policy arenas – and she was constantly challenging people to think beyond narrow identity politics toward something more expansive and collective.”

That message feels especially urgent, as LGBTQ+ communities face renewed attacks across the country, including attacks on healthcare, drag performance, and overall visibility. Norman’s activism, Alencastre explains, speaks directly to the present because many of the struggles she confronted remain unfinished: “She was fighting against systems that treated certain lives as disposable.”

The screening will be held at CASA 0101, a community arts space in Boyle Heights founded to uplift local stories, artists, and cultural work. The venue’s intimate, mission-driven setting makes it a necessary home for an evening centered on queer history and resistance.

“CASA 0101 is absolutely the right place to feature this amazing film because it’s one of the few spaces in Boyle Heights that welcomes art, community, and activism,” ChiChi told the Blade, “AIDS DIVA is a story about standing up for what is right and fighting for marginalized people, something that is reflected by CASA 0101 and Boyle Heights.”

ChiChi said Norman’s legacy is especially urgent as transgender, gender-expansive, and intersex people continue to face political attacks and marginalization. “We are deserving of a dignified life, we are deserving of community, we are deserving of being seen,” ChiChi explains, “As attacks against our community and anti-trans legislation continue to rise, Connie’s legacy of honesty, community advocacy, and coalition-building is a guiding light for how we resist, organize, and fight back.”

Moderating the conversation after the film, ChiChi added, is an honor. But it also carries the weight of responsibility. “As the Co‑Chair of the Transgender Caucus for the Commission on HIV for Los Angeles County and a Commissioner for the City of Los Angeles Health Commission, I carry this work with grace, intention, and a deep understanding of what it means to hold space for our communities,” ChiChi said. “More than anything, I want to honor her by creating a space where people feel seen, held, and inspired to carry forward the work she began.”

For Alencastre, the most meaningful response to the film has come not from awards, but from audiences who stay after screenings to share stories and connect Norman’s activism to the present.

‘If there’s one takeaway audiences seem to leave with, it’s that Connie’s story reminds us that activism is not abstract. It is personal, messy, courageous, and deeply communal. Seeing people connect to that has been incredibly rewarding.”

The event is free, with admission available through RSVP. Community partners may also table at the event, with limited spots available. The evening is supported by the California Community Foundation, California LGBT Arts Alliance, and CASA 0101.

More information about the film is available at aidsdivaconnie.com. RSVP at: https://www.tickettailor.com/events/californialgbtartsalliance/2218901

At M Grill, a Brazilian steakhouse in Los Angeles, hospitality is not just a service – it’s a philosophy. For General Manager Ivo Cooper, that philosophy is rooted in lived experience, shaped by immigration, identity, and a belief in human connection alongside food.

As an immigrant, Cooper built his life and career from the ground up. “Coming to the U.S. at 18 and building a life from scratch shaped everything about the way I lead,” Cooper tells the Blade, “I had to grow up quickly, support myself, adapt to a new culture, and learn how to earn trust in unfamiliar environments. That gave me discipline, resilience, and a real appreciation for opportunity.”

That early mix of uncertainty and determination continues to shape Cooper’s leadership. Rather than simply managing operations, he approaches his role as a mentor, investing in others in the service industry as a way to elevate it as a whole. He tells the Blade, “I have walked that road myself, and part of what drives me now is the desire to make it a little easier for the next generation. I love sharing knowledge, experience, and perspective with people who want to grow.” At its core, his approach is about making people feel seen – whether they’re working in the restaurant or sitting down to dine.

Good hospitality is often overlooked – either assumed as a given or insufficiently examined for what sets it apart from excellence. Cooper, however, understands hospitality as an art form. His philosophy is simple, humble, and, of course, quotable: “Hospitality, at its best, makes people feel comfortable, seen, and welcome.” Making people feel comfortable and seen is deeply personal to Cooper. As an openly gay, married man, Cooper understands both the privilege of acceptance and the reality that not everyone shares it. He explains, “Being gay is not the only thing that defines me, but it is part of who I am, and I’m grateful that I’ve been surrounded by love and acceptance. I also know that is not the reality for everyone. There are still many LGBTQ+ people … who are afraid to fully be themselves…”

His personal life reflects the same layered identity. His husband, also an immigrant, brings another dimension to Cooper’s experience. “[My husband] is a Canadian from Pakistan and comes from a Muslim family, so our life together reflects a lot of the complexity many people are feeling right now,” Cooper tells the Blade, also explaining that “The majority of our team are immigrants as well, and I want them to know they are valued not only for the work they do, but for who they are.” Whether it’s Cooper himself, his family, or those he works with, there is a clear sense of belonging that defines his approach.

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Cooper’s philosophy has even reached a national audience. In a recent feature with the Try Guys – one of the most widely watched food and culture platforms online, founded by former BuzzFeed creators – M Grill was highlighted not only for its food, but for its approach to hospitality. During the episode, the group notices something unusual: the salad bar has no labels. Naturally, they ask Cooper why, to which Cooper responds: “That choice reflects a much bigger philosophy for us. By not relying on labels, we create an opening for conversation. Guests ask questions, our team guides them, and the experience becomes more personal.” For Cooper, hospitality is not about minimizing friction, but about creating intentional moments of interaction.

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For Cooper, all of this is what he defines as “intentional hospitality” – a philosophy that demands consistency and care at every level. “To me, intentional hospitality means excellence is not accidental. It has to be built into every part of the experience,” Cooper says. M Grill is exactly that space for Cooper’s intentional hospitality to take way, with excellence, and detail. Each day, Cooper pays attention to the minute details that shape how customers feel: everything from pacing to language is taken into account. 

In an increasingly automated world, Cooper believes those interactions matter more than ever. He explains, “Human interaction matters even more now because so much of life is becoming automated and screen-based.” Although AI is seemingly replacing all facets of life, what Cooper finds integral to food service is human interaction: “In hospitality, that human element is everything.”

Even as the hospitality industry faces ongoing challenges – from the pandemic to rising costs and the emergence of AI – Cooper remains focused on what matters most: the guest experience. Rather than succumbing to apathy, he tells the Blade, “The last few years have made me even more focused on what actually matters.” And, for Cooper, what truly matters is the people walking through the door.

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Ultimately, Cooper’s message is one of belonging. “I would tell [young LGBTQ+ professionals and immigrants] that they belong, even if the world around them sometimes makes them question that.” 

He leaves the readers with an important, final remark: “If there is a young LGBTQ+ person reading this who feels uncertain, isolated, or afraid of not being accepted, I hope they know there is space for them … They can build a meaningful life, a successful career, and a real sense of belonging without hiding who they are.”

We have all been impacted by at least one film. Whether it’s a hilarious comedy, a jaw-dropping horror, or a plot so sorrowful that just the thought of it brings viewers to tears, movies have long offered LGBTQ+ audiences the truths they’re too often denied in reality. They also have the potential to shape these folks’ lives on a macro scale; studies show a direct correlation between positive representation of queerness in film and wider acceptance of these communities in the real world. During a time when LGBTQ+ people are being constantly attacked, it’s more important than ever for these folks to find movies that uplift and respect them. But with the endless stream of hateful rhetoric groups are currently facing, it can be hard to find films like these — luckily for us all, the Los Angeles Trans and NB Film Festival exists today.

The only LA-based festival focused on spotlighting movies made by transgender and nonbinary creatives, in only two years, this festival has quickly become one of this city’s most celebrated nights of film. It’s become a true haven for queer creators and fans alike, and none of it would be possible without the festival’s host and director, Joey Haley. 

A filmmaker himself, Haley knows how difficult it is to get your average movie made and distributed — and how exponentially harder it is to do that while being openly queer. During his conversation with the LA Blade, he spoke of his many years trying to ‘make it’ in Los Angeles and how vital it was to find other queer creatives, saying, “It’s like building any type of network that supports you, it takes a lot of time and a lot of trust.” It’s a network of other directors that, in 2025, decided that even if studios were denying their movies distribution, that didn’t mean these projects didn’t deserve to be seen. Joey spearheaded a ‘movie night’ made up of all of their films, with his search for a small venue to host the event eventually growing into the established festival he now hosts today. He recalled the moment of stepping back and looking at all his work, at the hundreds of people now clamoring to attend a night originally made just for his friends, and thinking, “[Well], I guess I’m running a trans film festival!”

“The LA Trans and Non-Binary Film Festival is a community-oriented space [meant] to uplift not just trans filmmakers around the world, but trans organizations, vendors, and people,” he explained. “[It’s a] very specific platform to showcase these alternative, embodied perspectives.” Spawning from the accidental event in 2025, 2026 saw the festival grow in both size and impact; it completely packed the well-known Silverlake club Akbar and sold out of tickets within days of release. 

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In just two years, the event has already inspired so many, which is even more impressive when supporters learn that it was conceived during this presidential administration’s first round of anti-trans attacks. 

Haley remembered the visceral bigotry that this festival was born around, detailing, “It was [when] the first anti-trans scapegoating articles were coming out, and so I was reaching out to sponsors, being like, ‘Oh, you’re absolutely going to retract as soon as you get this email’…it was getting to a point where I was like, no, [maybe this can’t happen].” But he luckily found support from businesses all around the city, with these organizations putting their faith in this completely new project because they recognized how badly LGBTQ+ Angelinos needed it. “I ended up talking to one of the Akbar owners, and I was like, ‘Yeah, this is something I’m trying to work on. We don’t have a theater. There’s no budget, there’s no backing, there’s no sponsors, there’s no brands, there’s no audience other than me and my friends.’ And [despite that] he was like, ‘No, come do this event here. We need this.’”

It was this support that made Joey realize that the festival couldn’t just be one night of movie watching. It had to contribute to this industry as a whole, helping to make sure that outside of this event, trans and nonbinary filmmakers could still access the resources they need to have their stories told. “The doors are way faster to close in your face,” he recalled, discussing the struggles of being a queer filmmaker today. “Being able to find a contact in this industry, [to get] streaming and distribution across the board…it’s the hardest thing!” 

Knowing these struggles firsthand and armed with the popularity of its first showing, this year’s LA Trans and NB Film Festival saw Joey partner with Red Coral Universe and Big Lettuce Entertainment to not only amplify the event but give its participants vital connections within this industry. These are important relationships for any burgeoning filmmaker to have, and Joey hopes that they will make other distributors realize just how valuable queer content is today. On granting this group of creatives these tools, Haley said, “Being able to provide that for filmmakers…it’s truly incredible.”

Joey was tight-lipped about what he had planned for the 2027 version of the LA Trans and NB Film Festival — but he did promise that there would absolutely be one for future audiences to look forward to. “Definitely we’ll be bringing in a lot more like community organizations and trans vendors…and a couple [of other big] things I’m going to keep under wraps,” the director teased. “There are a lot of things I’m excited for, and [all I’ll say is]: we’re going to need a bigger boat.”

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Throughout the discussion, Haley spoke with the same jubilant enthusiasm that has come to define the LA Trans and NB Film Festival. While too often the only trans stories we see are either deceitful hate speech or discrimination-driven anguish, the director’s festival reminds attendees that this community is still finding success. They are still creating and finding joy with one another, and making it clear that no amount of flawed hatred should ever stop a queer artist from putting out their narrative for others to see. 

The festival balances this triumph with the vital work of making the film industry more accessible to trans and nonbinary filmmakers worldwide. Its mission is encapsulated best in Joey’s own words, as the filmmaker reminded supporters of why the LA Trans and NB Film Festival needs to exist: “This festival…it makes it easier to find trans folks in film. It’s a tiny community — but oh, is it mighty.”

By: West Hollywood Mayor John Heilman, West Hollywood Councilmember Chelsea Lee Byers, and Congresswoman Laura Friedman

After a decade of construction, Metro’s D Line extension along Wilshire is about to open. Fast, efficient, and affordable rail service will whisk Angelenos to iconic destinations, making life better not just for visitors, but also for residents and commuters, too. As Angelenos wait, Metro is gearing up for another monumental decision about one of its next major projects coming to Los Angeles—one that may be even more transformative for how our region moves.

Metro is deciding between three routes for the K Line Northern Extension. The best option is the San Vicente-Fairfax route, which will connect the Hollywood Bowl, West Hollywood, Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, the Beverly Center, the Grove and Farmer’s Market, the Crenshaw District, Leimert Park, the South Bay, and LAX all on one line. This new north-south line also links up to the D and E Lines, allowing for easy transfers to UCLA, Santa Monica, Koreatown, and Downtown LA. All of this will take cars off the road, easing congestion and freeing up parking spaces.

Metro’s Board of Directors will vote on this project on March 18^th and 26^th, and their own staff recommends the San Vicente-Fairfax route because it will move the most riders and connect them to all the major destinations and job centers in this area. Metro should approve it without delay. On the day it opens, this new extension will be one of the busiest rail lines in the country, because it will serve so many people who currently don’t have access to reliable rapid transit.

Imagine getting to the Grove, WeHo’s Rainbow District, and the Hollywood Bowl—without all the traffic. The San Vicente-Fairfax route is the one choice to serve all these destinations. These are places that residents, commuters, and visitors all want to reach.  Every time Metro has asked the public, the answer has been clear: overwhelming support to build this route and build it faster. The most recent comment period was no different.

The West Hollywood City Council has already proposed an approach to deliver part of the investment needed to make this plan a reality without raising anyone’s taxes. City analysis showed that an Enhanced Infrastructure Financing District (EIFD) in West Hollywood could generate more than $2 billion over 75 years, with the potential for a similar contribution from the County. This would be an unprecedented commitment from a local City, and a first in Southern California for a project of this size, but it also only makes sense if most WeHo residents are directly served by the San Vicente-Fairfax route. It is this unprecedented local investment that makes a project like the K Line Northern Extension possible in our lifetimes.

We’re excited about what this project will mean for our neighborhoods, but it will be transformational for much more than just West Hollywood and residents living directly along the new line. It will give more people more affordable options to move around the region and open up new mobility options for seniors and students.

Like the Regional Connector-linked Metro lines downtown, the K Line Northern Extension will provide a new north-south connection linking Metro’s east-west B, C, D, and E Lines with the new K line and the upcoming LAX people mover. Today, Metro’s rail network radiates out from downtown, forcing riders to travel out of their way to transfer or skip transit altogether. The K Line Northern Extension will change that by connecting Metro’s east-west rail lines and allowing riders to travel across the city without detouring through downtown. Traveling from the South Bay or the Valley to work in Century City or Westwood? This line will make high-quality transit a viable option for countless trips like those, ensuring that transit is more realistic for everyone.

The San Vicente-Fairfax route will link communities from Torrance to North Hollywood to job centers like Cedars-Sinai and Hollywood and put over 125,000 jobs within a short walk of new stations. Access like that is unprecedented—and it shows in Metro’s ridership estimates: The San Vicente Fairfax route will likely serve 100,000 daily trips—making it one of the busiest light rail lines in the entire country. This route will also better connect communities along the existing K Line to jobs and services they already rely on, as well as more of the opportunities and resources that might currently be out of reach.

With more riders, more jobs, more destinations, more opportunity, and a clearer path towards implementation, the choice is simple: the San Vicente-Fairfax route for Metro’s K Line Northern Extension. Let’s finish the line!

While last night’s Academy Awards saw the expected winners One Battle After Another and Sinners nab a collective 10 Oscars throughout the evening, dominating most of the major categories, there were a few moments for queer film fans to celebrate.

During the ceremony’s prolonged and emotional In Memoriam segment, which paid tribute to Robert Redford, Rob Reiner, and Catherine O’Hara, queer icon Barbra Streisand went on stage and gave a rare live performance of “The Way We Were” as a tribute to Redford, who died last September at the age of 83. Before singing, Streisand said, “Now, Bob had real backbone on and off the screen. He spoke up to defend freedom of the press, protect the environment, and encouraged new voices at his Sundance Institute — some of whom are up for Oscars tonight, which is so great. He was thoughtful and bold.”

Both “I Lied to You” from Sinners and “Golden” from KPop Demon Hunters were performed live; Alabama Shakes frontwoman Brittany Howard performed during the evening’s powerful rendition of Sinners’ “pierce the veil” scene. Golden ended up winning the Best Original Song award.

One of the most shocking moments of the night arrived early on when Kumail Nanjiani presented the Best Live Action short category, which was a tie between The Singers and Two People Exchanging Saliva — only the seventh tie in Oscars history (one of which involved Streisand’s 1969 win for Funny Girl!) The latter short, which is currently streaming on The New Yorker, is described as “a dystopian version of Paris where kissing is forbidden and purchases are made through small acts of violence” and follows the unexpected connection between two women.

When accepting the award last night, Two People Exchanging Saliva director and producer Natalie Musteata said: “Thank you to the Academy for supporting a film that is weird, and that is queer, and that is made by a majority of women!”

One Battle After Another’s editor, Andy Jurgensen (who collaborated with Paul Thomas Anderson on Licorice Pizza and Phantom Thread), kissed his husband before going on stage to accept his award for film editing. He said, “To my partner, Bill, who brings so much joy to my life every day.”

Overall, the 2026 award season did not feature many queer films or actors in the line-up, and that was reflected in both the Oscar nominees and eventual winners. Smaller award shows like the Gotham Awards and the Film Independent Spirit Awards provided opportunities for indies like Sorry, Baby, Twinless, and Lurker to get proper recognition.

Sapphic exaltation can be found poolside at The Dinah, where for the last three decades, sapphic people have gathered to dance, find long-lasting community, and celebrate their own sacred queer joy. Affectionately dubbed “lesbian Coachella,” The Dinah is one of the largest music festivals held for queer women and sapphic people, including trans and nonbinary community members. 

The Dinah has always been loud and proud, and was brought to fruition by renowned party thrower Mariah Hanson. In 1991, she organized the festival’s first iteration, molding the Palm Springs Modern Art Museum into a lively, safe bubble for sapphic people to experience high-voltage, unfettered togetherness and belonging — without shame, harm, or discrimination. 

Over 30 years later, The Dinah has become a sapphic “utopia”: a multi-day gathering where people can find community, revel in sapphic excellence, and see some of the biggest superstars in their space thrive on stage. Previous performers include Doechii, Margaret Cho, the Indigo Girls, Tegan and Sara, Princess Nokia, and Lauren Jauregui. 

In 2026, the festival sees another evolution: new leadership. Bella Barkow and Rose Garcia have acquired the festival from Hanson and are aiming to make the event more inclusive, accessible, and joyful than ever. They want to preserve the alchemy of queer parties — these are the very spaces that they, as queer youth, discovered liberation and love. 

Barkow grew up in Toronto’s rave scene and would spend time hanging out in Church and Wellesley, the city’s queer-friendly nucleus. 2,000 miles away, Garcia was stirring up L.A.’s club scene, her infectious wiles becoming the real-life inspiration for a character in the lesbian TV bible, The L Word.

They both also have history with The Dinah: Barkow, a queer event producer, managed the festival’s operations before their recent acquisition. Garcia was hand-plucked by Hanson to host and emcee the festival for over a decade. 

Wild, rebellious, and uplifted by community, Barkow and Garcia are now dedicated to preserving and multiplying this space for other sapphic people across generations. As co-owners of the festival, they speak with great care about carrying this torch forward: of preserving this ecosystem that Hanson constructed and maintained, alone. Their challenge is two-fold: how do they preserve its history and essence while also creating enough breathing room for change and transformation?

The Blade sat down with Barkow and Garcia to talk about their vision for The Dinah and its future. 

Rose, before you were an emcee and now co-owner of The Dinah, you were attending the festival as a young queer person. What was that like for you?

Garcia: When I first discovered the Dinah, it was in my early twenties, and I couldn’t afford to go for the whole weekend. I was young, working, going to school, and figuring things out, so my friends and I would hop into a car and drive up for Sunday’s pool party. When I first showed up there, I was like: this is incredible. I’ve never seen so many sapphic women in one space. It was thousands upon thousands of women. And even though I’m in a big “market” in LA, we still didn’t have a lot of places to go back then. We had the Palms bar and a couple of clubs, but nothing to this scale. 

So when I walked [into the Dinah], I was meeting people from Australia, Europe, Canada — people from all over the world. And it was so amazing, because I never knew something like this existed. It became my go-to place and a part of my life, honestly: [I could] congregate with my friends, take this amazing trip, and be around thousands of folks and feel a sense of acceptance and safety. 

You’ve both been upfront that you want to make sure The Dinah is affordable, inclusive and accessible. Tell me more about the value of that and how you’re making this happen. 

Barkow: It’s nice to think that LGBTQ rights are on a linear path towards betterness, but unfortunately, the world is not working like that. We both believe that this event needs to keep being accessible to the younger generation, to the people who, like us, came out when they were young, and perhaps saw it on The L Word, or The Real L Word, like myself. I remember seeing it when I was in Toronto and being like: “Oh my God. This place exists. This is a real thing. I can actually go there and be myself.” We do think it’s important that this event is for everyone. I’ve had women in their 70’s who are first timers coming up, so you never know. 

Garcia: I also want to interject that even though it’s been open to everyone, we want to actually scream it from the top of the mountains: that it’s not only a sapphic, women-loving-women (WLW) event. It’s open to all of our friends, and we accept and want everyone to feel welcome. That’s really important to Bella and me. We want to make sure our trans community feels welcome, [our] nonbinary community. We want everyone to feel that they can come to this space and feel accepted. 

Barkow: I started gender sensitivity and proper pronoun usage training with the front-of-house staff at Dinah about two years ago, and we’re hoping to expand that and make sure that all staff, including hotel and security, are aware of that. There’s always the fear that [they could] misgender or misrepresent someone based on how they look. [We make it clear] you need to understand that our community is very, very specific. You need to support that and be a part of it. 

What are you most excited about in this new era of The Dinah?

Garcia: I’m excited to see the people who are going to come. When we launched the tickets, we got an overwhelming, warm, amazing reception. That was something that I was initially worried about [in] the change of hands. “Is it going to fare well with the community?” And we’ve been accepted. So, we’re excited to see what the community says about our first production and to see the faces of people just being happy, celebrating, and enjoying the weekend, and to look at my partner and be like: Man, we did this. Our blood, sweat, and tears for the last 10 months are finally coming to fruition.

Bella: I’m really excited to see how the community takes to the new initiatives that we’re bringing out that are community building-specific activations, so things for the solo and single travelers and things for the sober community that really expand the event. [It’s] a music festival first and foremost, but also a space to build lifelong friendships. As Mariah used to call it, this five-day utopia [is] a place where the outside world doesn’t matter and we’re all there to be together and enjoy community together. 

You’ve acquired The Dinah and you’re deep in the planning of this year’s festival. Does all of this, and the reception you’ve received, give you hope for the future of sapphic spaces?

Garcia: Yes, I think it does. Mariah used to have a partnership program [and] we’re going to reignite that. [We’ll] reach out to a lot of sapphic spaces throughout the country and all over the world, and [become] promotional partners. Not only does it support them in any events that they plan on having, because Dinah does have a big draw and a big reach, but it also helps us reach out to those markets as well. And we support each other. It’s a win-win for both. We [also] see a lot of the younger generation working on bringing more events to the community, and Bella and I are big supporters of all of them. 

Barkow: It’s the understanding that there’s enough room at the table for everyone. We need to support each other as a community. Historically, it’s always been like a woman is sitting at the table and she says: “Oh, this is my seat, and it’s the only seat, and so I have to protect my seat.” And that’s not true. I see this as an opportunity for us to help pull other women up to come join the table because there’s a seat for everyone. 

Dinah 2026 takes place from Sept. 30 to Oct. 5 in Palm Springs. More information can be found on their website.

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.

As a young student studying history at UCLA, Bobby Rimas was grounded by his growing desire to give back to his community. He worked as a tutor for low-income students and became invested in learning about the ways intersectionality impacts people’s access to education and resources. “My barriers may not be the same as yours, and your barriers may not be the same as mine,” Rimas told the Blade. “How do you apply that in leadership [and] in the classroom?” 

After 15 years of service to UCLA’s various alumni networks, first beginning with the Pilipino Alumni Association, Rimas became president of the university’s Lambda Alumni Association on Jan. 1. The UCLA Lambda Alumni Association was formed in 1989 as a way to support LGBTQ+ students and graduates with professional development, scholarship opportunities, mentorship, and other outreach support. 

UCLA has long been a local epicenter of queer activism and advancement. Students formed groups like the Gay Student Union and Lesbian Sisterhood in 1969 and 1973, respectively, to empower and connect queer students. Queer art and culture also thrived in this time, as students saw the launches of the queer campus paper, magazine, and a film festival that centered on LGBTQ+ stories. 

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Administratively, campus officials were taking a stance against LGBTQ+ discrimination. In 1975,  UCLA Chancellor Charles E. Young banned departments and programs from discriminating on the basis of sexual orientation. 

In the decades since, leaders like Rimas are working to preserve this history and also build upon it. How can we inspire students in and out of the classroom? How do we make sure they have access to valuable resources and can advocate for themselves in places that are not always inclusive of their needs and identities?

Rimas often ponders these questions, both as president of the Lambda Alumni Association and at Cal State LA, where he works as an associate professor of paralegal studies. There is often cross-pollination in the concerns he receives from alumni members as well as his students: How do they find employers who are accepting of LGBTQ+ people? How do they avoid being discriminated against in the workplace?

These are questions Rimas hopes to tackle more in his role as president of the UCLA Lambda Alumni Association and in his continued tenure as an educator. One of his first goals is to expand the board and bring on more diverse perspectives to the organization. “More people means more activity,” Rimas said, who hopes that the combined knowledge and resources of the board can better serve students and alumni. 

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Rimas also hopes to throw a large Gala event, one that mirrors the extravagant, celebratory 2019 bash he organized for the association when he was first brought onto the team. 100 people attended, creating a wave of awareness for the organization and increasing their scholarship funding. 

What’s next? UCLA Lambda Alumni Association’s first board meeting is this upcoming Monday. Rimas hopes to discuss strategies to grow the organization’s presence beyond the campus’ reach, in other queer cornerstones like West Hollywood, elevating diverse LGBTQ+ voices, and improving ways they can professionally support their network’s members. 

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.