Whether it be iconic crashouts or jaw-dropping moments of drama, reality television has always had a tremendous impact on queer culture — but few shows have done as much in the fight for global liberation as Sparks Camp. 

This series has awed since its premiere, with U.S. audiences discovering Sparks Camp when the first episode dropped for free on YouTube back in 2023. Focusing on a group of “Campers” who participate in romance-themed challenges while exchanging the titular “sparks of love,” the program made history as the Phillipines’ first ever gay dating show. It was a landmark production for a country that still struggles with widespread prejudice against the LGBTQ+ community. Yet with each season comes increasing viewership and more people (both within the country and across the world) learning from the love on display and the many messages of queer self-acceptance featured in each episode. The Los Angeles Blade sat down with the cast and creatives behind this series as they wrap up their third season, with the Sparks Camp team breaking down what this groundbreaking show has done for LGBTQ+ representation in the Philippines  — and how they plan to do even more going forward. 

“The journey [to] Sparks camp hasn’t been easy,” said Creative Head Hyro Aguinaldo, as he spoke to the Blade alongside Director Theodore Boborol. The pair detailed the many difficulties they faced in getting greenlit by ABS-CBN — one of the Phillipine’s biggest TV networks — and their fight against an entertainment industry that had never given LGBTQ+ stories the platform they deserve. “Most queer individuals here in the Philippines are tolerated, but not accepted,” explained Boborol. “Queer people are usually only relegated to [comic relief], never [portrayed] in any serious way…and that includes, of course, reality shows.” He describes how impossible it once seemed that they’d actually get to create the program and, now that they’re wrapping up its third season, how heartwarming it’s been to see LGBTQ+ audiences fall in love with the project. It’s not always a great experience, as the series has been the victim of countless discriminatory attacks online. But it’s undeniable that Sparks Camp has become one of the most educational, authentic portrayals of what it truly means to be LGBTQ+ in the Philippines today…but what is it like to actually be on the show?

While reality series can skyrocket contestants to internet fame, none elevate their cast to international icon status like Sparks Camp does for its ensemble. Season 3 stars Andrew, Kim, and Edward spoke about how thrilling it felt to have their attempts at romance get filmed on camera, with Kim saying, “Being there in the camp with nine other strangers, where I have to be as vulnerable as I can!? It was very challenging!” From half-naked mud wrestling tournaments to discussions about healing from trauma, the experience is intense enough on its own, yet it wasn’t until their installment began airing that the men realized just how influential these moments would be in the Philippines’ ongoing fight for queer rights. These were narratives that the heterosexual members of their audience (a demographic that has steadily increased since season one) weren’t used to, with Andrew detailing, “One of the reasons why a lot of people are unaware [about LGBTQ+ issues] is because we’ve been restricted from talking about these very normal topics.” They all explained how mainstream Filipino culture often discourages discussions about sexual safety and LGBTQ+ romance, meaning not only are people disallowed from learning about these identities, but young queer folk aren’t able to see themselves represented onscreen. “Moving forward,” said Edward. “I want queer boys and girls to see their stories reflected in ours.” 

Representing your community on such a large scale can be daunting, but these campers take pride in using every scene to show their audience what it means to be gay in the Philippines today. It’s a heavy responsibility for many, but luckily, this show is hosted by someone who truly knows what it means to fight for your found family:  “Mother Sparker” herself, Mela Habijan.

When she isn’t advocating for transgender rights or winning international pageants, Habijan acts as the host of Sparks Camp, moderating the series and imbuing each episode with her unique brand of self-love. It’s a role she does not take lightly, emphasizing, “Whenever I spend time with [the campers], there’s an assurance that their stories are safe, that this isn’t just a mere reality show about finding love— it’s [a space] for them to find value in themselves.” It’s an assurance that shows through the screen; whether it’s witty banter at challenges or reminding Campers to love themselves above all else, she brings a level of care to her role unusual for your typical reality host. She describes how this kind of openness is sadly missing in the Philippines, with the country’s deep roots in Catholicism meaning anti-LGBTQ+ discrimination is the norm in many areas and that there are few laws safeguarding queer rights. It’s because of this that she recognizes just what a huge impact Sparks Camp has on their local communities, saying, “I take pride in being ‘Mother Sparker’ because once a young trans person [watches the show], they can say: my future can be in front of the camera.” Habijan, who’d spent her entire career fighting to make easier pathways for other trans artists, emphasized how essential it is for people to see her and her campers being their truest selves onscreen. “The future is bright for [young people], because if they see more and more people who reflect [their] same experiences, then they’ll gain the courage [they need].”

Sparks Camp stands out not only for its historical impact, but because it does something that few reality shows are able to: it offers an amazing show, with an even better message. As each of the team expressed in their interviews with the Los Angeles Blade, this program and the few others like it are bringing LGBTQ+ stories to the Philippines like the country has never seen before. It’s helping to not only start vital conversations surrounding the respect and rights of queer communities, but fosters a kind of inclusive, love-filled influence that any viewer, no matter what country they’re watching from, can benefit from. In the last few moments of her interview, Mela Habijan perfectly encapsulated the core of what Sparks Camp is truly about.

“The value of their being queer…that’s what matters most. When you create and enrich the love that [the Campers] have within [them] — even if they don’t find the spark at the end of the series — they will end their journey at Sparks Camp with so much pride in themself.”

It’s a pride that LGBTQ+ people worldwide can use now more than ever, and luckily for all, it’s a pride that anyone can watch three seasons of for free online right now. 

CinePride’s inaugural year kicks off with a fresh erotic short titled Queerbait, executive produced by Cate Blanchett and written and directed by one of Hollywood’s most exciting up-and-coming talents, Nate Gualtieri (Desire Lines, Gotham Knights).

Queerbait features a new spin on the professor-student dynamic. Sydney Mae Diaz plays a trans student who has recently undergone top surgery and is drawn into the world of his classics professor, played by Matthew Floyd Miller, who sees great potential in his talented pupil. But the line between professor and student soon blurs, and tensions build up as the two get stuck together during a major rainstorm.

Gualtieri discusses with the Blade how Queerbait has developed throughout multiple fellowship programs, what he wants to see more of from trans storytelling, and his hopes for a festival like CinePride to rebuild the queer creative community in Los Angeles. (This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.)

I’m really excited to chat with you today. I know Queerbait went through a proof of concept program, and Cate Blanchett is attached as an executive producer. I’d love to hear how that whole process has been because I believe your goal is to turn this into a feature-length project.

We’re in the middle of financing the feature version right now. But just to go back to where it all started was actually a bit earlier. I was in the Film Independent Project Involve Fellowship, and that interestingly reoriented my career toward film. When I was in that program, I actually met one of my now producers, Jesus Garcia, and he was the first person I ever pitched this project to. Originally just as a short for their program, and they didn’t select it, but I really liked this idea and kept working on it. And so we submitted to this Proof of Concept Fellowship, it’s the first year of the program, and Netflix financed a bunch of short films at $30,000 each. Cate Blanchett’s company Dirty Films was then attached as producers, and they helped guide the projects along.

The whole point of that program was to support women, trans and non-binary directors. The USC Annenberg School of Communication was also involved because they put out numbers every year on how many female directors are working, how many trans films are getting made — which, sometimes there’s zero. To apply to that program, we also had to have a feature script ready, so that was always the intention for us. Regardless if we had gotten into the program, I really wanted to do a proof of concept that was the basis for a feature script or film. The biggest thing I got out of Film Independent was that so many collaborators and people in my cohort ended up working on this film. It just feels like I’ve met people where I’m like, “I hope we can do every film together!”

We shot in October 2024 and a few weeks after that, we applied to the Sundance Screenwriting Lab with the same feature and got in. That happened in March 2025, so that was all virtual. Andrew Ahn and Laura Moss ended up being my mentors, and they’re still very invested in how I’m doing, which is lovely. The script’s gone through a couple revisions since then, and now we’re ready to take it out to market. We’re going to the Gotham Project Market at the end of September, and that’s going to be some of the first steps of financing. Right now, I really do feel it’s a question of when it happens and not if.

That’s all super exciting. Talking more about cinematic inspirations and representation, I saw very few trans films in high school and middle school.

There are some great trans films that I wouldn’t say are touchstones for this piece at all, but I really want to build on that lexicon of what a great trans film is and can be. I really tend to shy away from the coming out narrative. I’ve written pieces like that before, but I think we can do something more intriguing and more interesting. My real goal is to bridge that gap between seeing a film with trans people as niche, and particularly what we’re doing with Queerbait is leaning into that erotic thriller genre and playing off films like Dressed to Kill or The Crying Game, where the trans woman is the murderer. I think there’s an interesting flipping we’re doing where the trans person is the victim, but they can also be the perpetrator as well. 

With the premise of this project featuring trans chasers, what void in trans/queer storytelling are you hoping Queerbait might fill?

With a lot of the work that I do it’s like, “Yeah, you could put a cis guy in it.” But there wouldn’t be the same impact. There’s such a specific perspective of masculinity that I bring to the work. In terms of trans films, people are a little afraid to make a movie that’s really complicated and honestly dark, and I want to bridge that gap. We get so caught up in these gentle, indie romances. And I think that’s great, and there’s a place for that too. But what I want to do is something more challenging, where it almost forces you to look at trans people without othering them. I just want the film to be great, and the main character’s trans. There’s not a separation that I’m making in that sense. But I don’t think enough trans films really leave an impression on me, and really have something to say that I haven’t seen before. I think I just want it to be a good film first, but its transness is kind of irremovable from it. It’s called Queerbait, the people know!

It’s a great title! And this is the opening night selection at this year’s CinePride festival. Could you speak about what led you to apply to that festival, which I know is hoping to fill the void left by Outfest.

That’s actually part of why I reached out to CinePride, because the last short I directed played at Outfest. One, they had Outfest and Outfest Fusion, which immediately othered any people of color that submitted, so that was a little bit unusual. They were running on a huge deficit, I want to say a quarter of a million, so anyway, that’s just why they fell apart. So I was really excited when I saw that there was going to be another L.A.-based festival because there really was a void. Outfest was a large event for the community. I’ve also been told we’re the very first film that’s screening at the festival, which is crazy. I’m just really excited to see the turnout and attendance. I hope that this is an opportunity to build something a little bit better. I like being on the ground floor of things I find promising. I don’t think it’s worth waiting to see, “Is this going to be the next big thing?” I appreciate the people who were there from the start.

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As the big day approaches, is there anything else you want to add about Queerbait or anything you’re particularly looking forward to?

It’s an erotic thriller, and we’re really looking to do something commercial, or as commercial as possible. I appreciate you reaching out. It’s always flattering! When I say it’s weird, it’s like, again, not bad, it’s just like, “Wow! This is so crazy. People are watching stuff I put on the internet!”

CinePride runs September 11 – 14, 2025 at Landmark Theatres Sunset.

For more information, visit CinePride.org 

Whether it be sultry Frank Ocean performances or Madonna reminding everyone that drag queens run the world, the MTV Video Music Awards (VMAs) have always been an unofficial honoring of the LGBTQ+ community’s contributions to music. Yet many fans were nervous going into the 2025 ceremony; during a time when marginalized voices are being attacked across the country, would there still be a queer presence at this historic award show? Luckily, they weren’t disappointed, as the VMAs quickly reminded everyone of a very important fact: there is no music industry without queer artists.

And with that in mind, let’s take a closer look at the moments that made the 2025 VMAs one of the gayest award shows ever!

Before it even began, the ceremony’s red carpet hosted some of the entertainment industry’s biggest queer stars (and their impeccable fashion choices). Whether it be the eviscerating Law Roach, hilarious comedian Megan Stalter, or renowned drag queens like Lexi Love and Symone, this crimson runway was a space for these icons to strut their stuff.

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The invite list alone made it clear that LGBTQ+ artists would continue being an integral part of the VMAs — a fact that was taken to unimaginable heights when Lady Gaga won the award for ‘Best Artist of the Year!’

Even after countless wins, it can’t be overstated just how important a triumph for Lady Gaga is for the LGBTQ+ community, especially when she’s being awarded for the massive amount of work she’s done this year. Not only has her new album, Mayhem, been the soundtrack for every gay bar, but in the face of rising discrimination, she is constantly speaking up for queer and trans individuals across the country. It was so cathartic for her LGBTQ+ fans to watch Mother Monster accept the award, starting the show with an uplifting, quintessential queer energy that would only get better from there. 

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Not only did numerous LGBTQ+ artists perform — a huge shoutout to Lola Young and Conan Gray — but a portion of the night was focused on rewarding gay trailblazer Ricky Martin with the first-ever Latin Icon Award. He used his speech to encourage unity during this time of division, reminding listeners that music should be what brings us together during a time when people are literally trying to tear us apart. And he wouldn’t be the only LGBTQ+ artist going home with a Moon Man! Stans across the globe cheered when KATSEYE won the VMA for Push Performance of the Year, the inaugural award for a global girl group that is revolutionizing what it means to be an idol today. Not only are they breaking barriers, but with members Lara Raj and Megan Skiendiel, KATSEYE makes history as one of the only idol groups to openly feature two queer women!

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Halfway through the VMAs, this award ceremony was already shaping up to be one of the queerest yet…but someone wanted to bring even more to the stage. Someone who used every moment she had to amplify LGBTQ+ artists and call for the respect these communities deserve. She was already regarded as an icon before the show, but with her performance and acceptance speech, Sabrina Carpenter solidified herself as one of the biggest advocates in music today. 

While every VMAs performer brings a unique concept to their performance, few are as instantly captivating as Carpenter’s performance of “Tears.” The faux-city streets of her stage bring to mind moments from history like the Stonewall Riots, acts of resistance that fueled LGBTQ+ liberation and made the modern music industry possible. Then, as the camera panned out, audiences learned that Carpenter brought queer royalty onstage with her: Drag Race queens Denali, Willam, Symone, Lexi Love, and Laganja Estranja, along with Ballroom legends Dashaun Wesley and Honey Balenciaga. The entire group took part in some visually stunning choreography before each held up a cardboard sign, with their sayings ranging from “Protect trans rights” to “In trans we trust” and “Support local drag.” With this song, Carpenter fought transphobia and called for equity with more bravery than anyone else that night — and she wasn’t done. 

“I do want to say: to my incredible cast and dancers and queens on stage with me tonight…this world, as we all know, can be so full of criticism and discrimination and negativity,” said Carpenter, as she accepted the award for “Best Album.” “So to get to be part of something so often, more than not, that is something that can bring you light, make you smile, make you dance, and make you feel like the world is yours…I am so grateful.” It’s an unfortunate truth that, while many celebrities enjoy featuring queer performers in their acts, too often these folks are treated as props rather than actual artists. Carpenter used every minute onscreen to show her love for these LGBTQ+ artists and grant them the national applause they deserve. It created many jaw-dropping, utterly LGBTQ+ moments throughout the night, and it gave everyone watching an exceptional model for how to be a true ally today. 

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There were so many amazing moments at the 2025 VMAs, it’s unfair to label one as the best! From Eyekons to short n’ sweet activists, the award ceremony was stacked with reminders to everyone that queer people built the music industry they love — and that we’re not going anywhere. But, while each of these resonated with different fans for different reasons, there was a single instant that touched every queer person watching. 

When Ariana Grande accepted her award for “Video of the Year,” she succinctly surmised her appreciation for the LGBTQ+ community in a way that truly anyone can understand: “Thank you to my therapists, and gay people. I love you.”

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As part of CinePride’s inaugural year, filmmaker Alicia Coppola brings a deeply emotional and heartfelt short film, And You Are?, to the spotlight. The film explores the intersection of queerness, memory, and identity through the lens of a trans man and a loved one battling with dementia. Drawing from her own family experiences, Coppola crafts a narrative that is both intimate and universally resonant, challenging mainstream portrayals of aging, gender, and familial acceptance. And You Are? stands as a powerful testament to the kinds of stories CinePride seeks to share with the world – authentic, complex, and unapologetically human.

What prompted you to create such an intimate story about experiencing the queerness of a loved one through the lens of dementia in your short film And You Are?

The film is really a love letter to two of my family members. I found it so interesting that one of them, despite struggling with memory loss, completely and totally accepted the other  without hesitation. She never once misgendered her, not even once. Meanwhile, everyone else, occasionally including myself even, did at some point. But she never did. And I just found that remarkable. She couldn’t remember what she had for breakfast, but that stuck.

Misgendering happens more often than we’d like to admit, so that kind of unwavering respect is deeply moving. And your film is part of the inaugural CinePride Film Festival in Los Angeles. How does it feel to be part of CinePride’s inaugural year?

I’m beyond honored to be part of CinePride’s first year. I think this will be the beginning of many, many years to come. It’s time. Personally, I believe we shouldn’t have to silo these stories into their own festivals. I get why we do. It’s to ensure they’re seen, but it’s also sad that a separate space is still necessary. Why do I have to be labeled a “woman filmmaker”? I’m a filmmaker. Why is a trans person labeled first and foremost as trans? They’re a person. We don’t say “my gay daughter,” we just say “my daughter.” Why do some people need a preamble while others don’t?

That leads into another question, how do you feel labels affect creators in the entertainment industry?

Until we come up with something better, we have to keep saying: people are people. I’m a woman, yes, but I’m also just a filmmaker, an actor, and a damn good one. Why do we never hear “male doctor” or “male filmmaker”? It’s always the marginalized who get the descriptor. And that’s part of the problem.

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It’s all based on the assumption that the white, cis, straight male identity is the default.

Exactly. And not to get too political, but I don’t understand why we have old, wealthy white men trying to legislate everything- our bodies, our bedrooms, our kids’ lives. They have no right to dictate the lives of anyone who isn’t just like them.

Back to your film, what was the most emotionally challenging scene for you to write/shoot?

Writing it was hard. I started with one script and ended up with something completely different. I just wasn’t ready. It took three years to finally sit down and say, “This is the story I want to tell.” If I could open someone’s mind, open their heart, maybe we could start a dialogue. As for filming, when I saw Jane Seymour transform on set, especially since we shot in my family member’s actual room, it hit me emotionally. She inhabited that space and role so completely. I was looking at a movie star. I consider myself a good actress, but Jane blew me away. She’s like a storm. You know the moment she enters the room, nothing will be the same.

If your character Max wrote a memoir, what would it be called and what would Nana’s chapter be titled?

The memoir would be See, I Told You My Name Was Jake. Nana’s chapter? I Already Told You That, Nana.

How do you think identity is affected when someone from an older generation forgets – or never quite understood – it?

In our family, the ones who struggled most were the middle generation. People my age couldn’t quite rewire their brains. But kids? They get it instantly. And the elderly? They don’t miss a beat. So the ones stuck in the middle are the most resistant. They’ve already learned a certain language and worldview, and they just can’t, or sometimes even won’t, adjust.

Do you think it’s more about inability or willful ignorance?

Both. There’s fear. People are terrified of the LGBTQ+ community and even more so of the trans community. Much like men fear women because we hold the power of sex and creation. It’s all rooted in ignorance, hypocrisy, and control. Trans people are being scapegoated, but they’re not the reason eggs cost $15. The 1% of the population that’s trans isn’t wrecking the world. The other 1%, the wealthy elite, is.

With legislation regressing across the country, what’s your biggest fear, having a daughter who happens to be gay?

I’m terrified of what happens when healthcare is taken away, especially life-affirming care for LGBTQ+ youth. Denying them that is basically saying, “We’ll choose how your kids die.” Suicide? Fine. School shootings? Fine. Just don’t choose abortion, because that they want to control. My family has felt the impact firsthand. Children’s Hospital L.A. shut down their entire transgender division. It’s reprehensible.

Do you think festivals like CinePride help shift the narrative about whose stories get shared and who controls that narrative?

Every story deserves to be told. Women, men, Black, queer, everyone. CinePride is important because it’s archival. It’s a museum for our children’s children. With people trying to erase history, from the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade to Stonewall, we need to preserve these stories. I hope one day kids ask, “Why is this film in a special category? Isn’t this just life?”

Your film challenges sanitized portrayals of queerness and aging. How do you think the film community can push for more authentic, complex storytelling?

We need to be brave. Take off the filters. Women age. Show it. Dementia isn’t pretty. Show it. I think we showed the first testosterone shot on film. Zach Barack, our incredible actor, actually saved his T-shot to do it on camera. We didn’t fake it. We showed what it’s really like. And when you show truth, you create empathy. That opens minds, hearts, and hopefully, conversations.

What conversations do you hope this film sparks?

I hope people leave the film with questions. Maybe even realizations. One character has only the past to prove she exists; the other wants to erase the past because it never reflected who he truly was. How many of us do that? Reinvent ourselves, try to escape something? And how many of us are lucky enough to have support when we do? If this film can create understanding, if even one person watches and thinks, “Oh, I get it now,”  then we’ve done something meaningful. One of my producers said he learned more about Alzheimer’s in the first minute of the film than he ever had before. That meant the world to me.

CinePride runs September 11 – 14, 2025 at Landmark Theatres Sunset.

For more information, visit CinePride.org 

Los Angeles may be the “City of Angels,” but if there were one man who could claim the title of Angel-in-Chief, it’s Mike Pingel. On Sunday, September 7, Collector’s Call on MeTV spotlights his “heavenly” collection of Charlie’s Angels memorabilia. This is not just a story of a man coming across a few Charlie’s Angels magazines or dolls. Pingel’s collection includes more than 2,000 items spanning from rare scripts and dolls to a pinball machine. If God had a giftshop, Pingel is the one who has the spare key. 

For Pingel – writer, publicist, and lifelong superfan – Charlie’s Angels has always been more than nostalgic TV. It is a culturally iconic masterpiece with deep resonance for LGBTQ+ audiences who saw glamour on-screen. The glamour was undeniable, even though each episode was basically an EPA violation caused by too much hairspray.

“Us queers love our beautiful, strong women, and Charlie’s Angels fits that bill on and off the TV screen,” Pingel tells the Blade. “The world fell in love with Charlie’s Angels as soon as it hit the airwaves on ABC-TV on September 21, 1976.” For Pingel, that love affair was fueled by the cast itself: “Farrah Fawcett, Kate Jackson, Jaclyn Smith, Cheryl Ladd, Shelley Hack, and Tanya Roberts are timeless beauties… The Angels got through it together just like the LGBTQ+ does together as a group, as we have always fought for our rights together – we got each other’s backs!”

The origin story of Pingel’s collection (or should we say addiction?) started with a few allowance dollars burning a hole in his pocket in San Francisco’s Chinatown. “I’ve been collecting since 1977!” Pingel explains, “I think the very first item I bought with my allowance was a few packets of Charlie’s Angels Topps trading cards.”

Since then, Pingel has amassed just about everything you can imagine the Charlie’s Angels series producing – games, puzzles, posters, and personal gifts from the actresses themselves. It’s still a smaller collection than Cher’s wigs, but it’s impressive nonetheless. Out of the thousands of items, Pingel has a favorite:  “The Kris Munroe Business card Cheryl Ladd gave me for my 30th Birthday. She used them in the show as her character. Now that’s pretty cool!”

Mike Pingel & his Angels / Photo courtesy of Mike Pingel

Like many LGBTQ+ kids of the ’70s, Pingel fell in love with one of the lead actresses in Charlie’s Angels, Farrah Fawcett. Unlike most people, he ended up working for her. “Being Farrah’s assistant was something I never thought I would be doing,” he recalls. “She was so sweet but also the smartest businesswoman.” 

As Fawcett’s personal assistant, Pingel tells the Blade something most might not know about her: “One thing people might not know is she liked her cookies more on the burnt side! … Farrah called me on the intercom [picture how Charlie calls the Angels on the show]. She said ‘Mike, can you cook these a bit more – I like them a little burnt!’ It broke my heart a bit but I have to do what an Angel asks!” Only Farrah could make burnt cookies sound glamorous. If Martha Stewart did it, we’d just call it a parole violation.

When asked if he considers himself a preserver of LGBTQ+ pop culture as well as TV history, Pingel laughs: “I never thought of it that way! I guess I am!” He tells the Blade that everyone is an expert in something. “I just happen to be that for Charlie’s Angels.” And he’s not shy about sharing it. “If you’re in the West Hollywood area, hit me up. I love sharing my Charlie’s Angels collection.” As of now, this is officially the gayest Airbnb listing in recorded history.

Pingel speaks of filming for Collector’s Call – the episode which will be released on September 7th. “One thing that did surprise me was once they arrived at 7am (they were a bit early) in the morning. I did not have time to shower or shave for the show! They were here and boom right into production.” And then came the surreal moment: the host, Lisa Whelchel – the actress who played Blair Warner from The Facts of Life – getting her makeup and hair done in his bathroom. “I could not believe Blair Warner was in my apartment! Now that was some Facts of Life!”

Collector’s Call team / Photo: MeTV

Though Charlie’s Angels first appeared in the 70’s, with a few movie sequels in recent years, it is easy to assume that Charlie’s Angels might be too dated. But with a new Brazilian Charlie’s Angels series on the way, Pingel is confident the Angels’ mission is eternal. Specifically, the mission being independence for all: “Girl Power. Outside the glamour and adventure lies the power of women. Charlie’s Angels showed how woman can do anything without the help of men.”

Before you dismiss Pingel’s Charlie’s Angels as just another quirky collection, remember what it really preserves: a world where beauty, camp, and solidarity gave LGBTQ+ kids the courage to see themselves differently. Pingel leaves the Blade with a final comment: “Together we can conquer anything and that includes all of us LGBTQ+ Angels!”

Mike Pingel’s episode of Collector’s Call airs Sunday, September 7, at 6:30/5:30c p.m. on MeTV.

CinePride is more than a film festival, it serves as a reminder that queer storytelling refuses to be put in a box. CinePride celebrates creators who color outside the lines and push stories to the emotional edge. It’s the type of platform where visibility becomes prioritized and where chosen family sits front row. And among the standouts: a sibling story that checks all of the following boxes – hilarious, heartbreaking, and (w)holly unhinged.

We (heart emoji)  Wee Willie Winky, the wickedly sharp short film from writer-director Mark A. Dahl, which playfully untangles family dysfunction with a cocktail in one hand and a raised eyebrow in the other. When two estranged siblings discover their allegedly long-passed father is actually recently deceased, chaos and comedy are not far behind the news. Think The Royal Tenenbaums meets John Waters on a psilocybin trip through the Hollywood Hills. 

With biting wit, a tickle of trauma, and a mother who can easily outdo the entire Real Housewives franchise and then some, Dahl delivers a proof-of-concept that demands more. Preferably a full series. Fingers (and toes) crossed…

Let’s start with the basics. For those who haven’t seen your short film Wee Willie Winky yet, can you describe it for us in one sentence?

Two pretty horrible kids go visit their mother when they find out their father died, who they thought died twenty-five years earlier, to find out what the hell actually happened.

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Speaking of Daddy, uh, there’s clearly some pointed and also playful daddy issues at play with this film. Is this theme personal?

That’s a really interesting question. You know, my sister and I, we both have daddy issues. . My dad died when I was six. She was estranged from her father as well. And I think that’s kind of a common thread with the LGBT community, especially gay men. I don’t wanna speak for anyone else. I am a gay man. There’s a lot of family with this piece that I found really cool. 

In the film we have some conniving siblings, a twice dead father and a mother standing in their way. What drew you to explore this kind of dysfunctional family dynamic? And were there any specific films or creators that influenced your tone here?

I’ve always been a really big fan of dark humor in all of its forms. I love dark comedy, and I would say the House of Yes is a very big influence. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it with Parker Posey. It’s twisted, twisted, twisted, and we love Parker. And that’s definitely a big influence on the writing. And then what was the other half?

I’m a huge fan of John Waters, and that was always massive family dysfunction, which I always found hilarious. You know, every movie of his, the kids are screaming at the parents. And there’s just nothing more fun than a f*cked up family to watch. There really isn’t.

On your Instagram, I may have peaked at the John Waters Walk of Fame Star on there…

Yes. I went to see him get his star. That was so cool, because I remember seeing Hairspray in the eighties in the movie theater in the West Village. I remember it was pouring rain, and I saw that film. I had seen all the others on videotape, but that was the first one I saw in a movie theater. And I was like, these can be in movie theaters! These kinds of crazy stories can be in movie theaters! 

And to see him get his star was also the same kind of feeling. I was like, wow. Someone like us, someone that demented and twisted could end up on Hollywood Boulevard. That’s incredible. So, it was a really cool day.

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We tackled daddy issues. And now it’s time to discuss mommy. The mother in your film is a knockout character, and her rendition of Gwen Stefani’s “Chala Bread Girl“ was pretty epic. Was this character inspired by anyone from your actual life or pop culture?

100% inspired by Jena’s actual mother in real life. She is a sun-bunny, and even down to the voice and intonation and the way she just says things is 100% inspired by my sister from another, Jena’s mother.

Los Angeles plays a huge role in the tone of your film, with all of its grittiness and glamor. What does LA represent to you and how did you want to capture it visually?

When we first moved here – and I say “we” because my sister and her producers were scouting places for her to live – she was about to shoot a movie she had written, loosely based on her life. Joey King plays her in it, and it’s called Smartass.

They were moving us around different neighborhoods, kind of testing out where she might want to settle. So we spent a month here, a month in WeHo, then a month downtown, and eventually they put us up in the Hills for a month.

That was absolutely mind-blowing. There we were, the two of us, from basically the middle of nowhere, living in this massive, dilapidated, falling-down mansion in the Hollywood Hills. It was owned by a costume designer, and they had rented it from her. The place was packed with antiques and strange old clothes. It felt like stepping into another world.

Every day, I’d be dressing up in turbans, looking out at the city, it honestly felt like a dream. It was that Hollywood dream. That’s actually what inspired the idea for Wee Willy Winkie. We thought, what if these two kids, because that’s really what we were, what if they ended up in Hollywood?

Everything felt so beautiful back then, just looking out over the city and feeling the magic of it. That’s the feeling we wanted to capture. You’d look down the street, see a line of palm trees, and think, Oh my God, I’m really in California. I’m really in Hollywood.

That was the vibe we were chasing, something magical, a little surreal. Visually, we were heavily influenced by The Royal Tenenbaums, that kind of aesthetic really shaped the look and feel we were going for.

On your socials you refer to yourself as a “high school drama queen.” Can you tell us a little bit about your theatrical background and how that bleeds into your filmmaking style?

Actually, that’s a really good question. I think I was on stage for the first time when I was five. I come from a very religious family—I was a church singer growing up. I remember my first play in kindergarten was The Boy Who Cried Wolf, and I played the boy. During the actual performance, the kid opposite me forgot his lines. And I totally lost it—went a little ape, honestly—in front of all the parents.

I said, “I know your lines!” and I just did them for him. I finished the scene while he stood there watching. So I ended up playing both characters. And then I said something like, “I know your lines and my lines—I don’t know why you can’t learn them!” That was probably my first diva fit—my first full-on drama queen moment.

After that, I really leaned into being a drama kid. Even as a young teenager, I was acting in college plays. So my entire foundation for performance came from theater and its visual storytelling.

Eventually, we started our own non-profit film and theater company in Philadelphia, which we ran for 15 years. We just wanted to tell stories. None of us had really made films before. I mean, I had a silent Super 8 camera when I was a kid and a little video camera, but we’d never made a real movie.

So we basically created our own school, we just started doing it. We didn’t know we “weren’t supposed to” or that it wasn’t how things were done. We just wanted to make stuff, so we did. We put on a full season of live shows, and we also made music videos and short films on weekends, gathering everyone we could to help.

How do you think that background influences your storytelling style or your filmmaking approach?

It’s 100% guerrilla filmmaking. Just get it done—by any means necessary. That’s really our style. I don’t know all the technical terminology. I never went to film school. I just wanted to create. We’ve always loved the process, and that’s what kept us doing it.

With your title. Wee Willie Winky, was there any intentional nod to the 1937 Shirley Temple film where she plays a daughter of a widowed mother?

100%. And you know, the Wee Willie Winky is a child’s nursery rhyme in London, so it’s actually a little key into the father’s life. We wrote it actually as a series, a full series. So, and this is the proof of concept sort of for that series about these two estranged kids who end up back together in London, owners of a big antique shop, and then they’re discovering their own lives through their father, who has passed away. So they learn a whole new family and a whole new life about themselves.

Do you think that entertainment has a responsibility to be political? Or do you think it is also a means of escapism from politics? Or can it be both?

It can absolutely be both. Sometimes I go to the movies because I just wanna watch sh*t blow up. I go to the movies at least once a week, and I have for a very long time. It’s my favorite place in the world, and my mind is constantly worried about things in this world. If I could quote that whole Nicole Kidman thing, it’s 100% true. You sit down, the lights go down, the magic happens and you can forget about your life for a while, whatever that was. That thing cracks me up so hard. 

But also sometimes you really want to watch work that is moving you.  It has the power to change people. It has the power to shed light on situations that people don’t know about or have never thought about. And it really has the power to make people think. So 100% it can be both.

The matriarch of our story is no stranger to pina coladas. based on their personality types and respective quirks. What would be Len and Mark’s cocktails of choice?

Well, I think Len would drink anything bubbly. I think Mark would drink anything that was free, a free cocktail. Mark’s favorite cocktail is a free cocktail.

What do you hope audiences walk away with after watching Wee Willie Winky?

I hope they learn to laugh at dark stuff if they haven’t before. I hope they can find humor in pain. And I hope they want to know what happens next, and that someone else wants to know what happens next. Because I certainly want to, Jena and I certainly want to show you what happens next.

We started with one sentence and we’re going to end with one sentence. If you could write a one sentence love letter to queer cinema, what would that one sentence be?

This might make me cry because I remember the first gay movie I saw…  Dear Cinema, thank you for… Hold on. Dear Cinema, thank you for showing me onscreen that I was okay, and that me being in the world was not an abomination, and for showing me that I have a place in the world. Yeah…

CinePride runs September 11 – 14, 2025 at Landmark Theatres Sunset.

For more information, visit CinePride.org 

In the vibrant heart of West Hollywood’s nightlife, one name has become synonymous with electric performances and fearless self-expression: Prince Joshua. Known for his jaw-dropping gogo routines at world-famous venues like The Abbey, Joshua has long captivated queer bar-goers up and down the West Coast. But lately, it is not just his moves turning heads, it is his music.

Fresh off a double win at the Los Angeles Blade’s Readers Choice Awards, where he was named “Go-Go of the Year” and “Local Music Artist of the Year,” Joshua is keeping the momentum alive with his latest release, “QUAKE.” Dropping on his birthday, August 20, the high-energy single and self-directed music video are a celebration of individuality, confidence, and shaking off insecurities.

“‘QUAKE’ is for the bad bitches,” Joshua says with a smile. “It is about owning what makes you unique, living for your own approval, and letting go of anything that holds you back.”

This release follows the success of his debut EP Crowned, which dropped in January and offered a raw yet playful exploration of queer nightlife, dating, and self-love. The project’s six tracks and three music videos blended club-ready beats with deeply personal lyrics, marking Joshua’s arrival as a recording artist with something to say.

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Joshua’s artistry is rooted in his background as a performer. Originally from a small conservative town, his move to Los Angeles was an act of both self-preservation and self-celebration. “I grew up in a world that wasn’t made for someone like me,” he says. “But West Hollywood was made for people who express themselves through fashion, who are unapologetically queer. Here, the things I was bullied for are the things that are celebrated.”

He brings that same spirit to the stage, whether performing at WeHo Pride, SUMMERTRAMP, or in intimate club settings. His shows mix choreography, stunts, toe touches, splits, and costume changes, proving that gogo dancing is performance art at its finest. “While I respect the sex work industry, what I do is different. My performances come from a cheer background and combine music, movement, and fashion into one high-energy package.”

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With “QUAKE,” Joshua takes his vision even further. He wrote, produced, directed, and styled the project himself, weaving together elements of cheerleading, twerking, and bold visuals that radiate Leo-season confidence. It is a one-man production that showcases his versatility and commitment to his craft.

As he looks ahead to his next EP and more collaborations with fellow queer artists, Joshua’s message remains consistent. “Every day you get a chance to be yourself and inspire others to do the same,” he says. “This world is not always kind to us, but we have each other. So take up space, use your voice, share your art, and never let anyone dim your light.”

With moves that dazzle, bars that bite, and a creative vision that refuses to be boxed in, Prince Joshua is proving there is more than one way to rule the stage. And with “QUAKE,” he is making sure everyone feels the aftershocks.

Watch “QUAKE”

Belinda Carlisle thought this was going to be a calm summer. She says this now was a laugh.

Back in April, Carlisle reunited with The Go-Go’s at Coachella after the band’s last performance in 2022. What struck her was the young audiences that turned out knowing all the words — not the usual demographic for the band, she tells The Blade.

“It was like a feather in the cap. We got together for that festival, so I don’t think there’s going to be any more Go-Go’s, but I’ve learned you can never say never,” Carlisle says. “And I’m really blessed that people even care to talk to me, to be honest.”

But today, we’re not here to talk about The Go-Go’s. After the band’s public split in 1985, Carlisle transitioned into a high-profile solo career, one that continues with the release of her newest cover album, “Once Upon a Time in California,” on Aug. 29. As Carlisle switches gears — contributing to that not-so-calm summer she laughed about – she prepares to share tributes to iconic songs by The Carpenters (“Superstar”), Harry Nilsson (“Everybody’s Talkin”) and The Hollies (“The Air That I Breathe”) in a soulful tribute to home.

As a California native from Burbank and Thousand Oaks, Carlisle felt compelled to look back on her influences, and she started from a pool of a hundred songs. “The concept for this, first of all, were California radio songs that I loved,” Carlisle says, citing The Beach Boys. “I think we all wish we could have a time machine and go back in time … it’s more of a tribute to a dream of California and an idea.”

Carlisle hasn’t lived in California since 1994, when the devastating Northridge earthquake occurred, leaving her a spectator to the many changes the music industry has been through over the past three decades. Her new album arrives during a particularly tumultuous and deadly year for the state, with the wildfires that raged through the Palisades and the continued struggles in the film industry.

“It was inspiring to see people really step up to help others in the midst of so much loss and sadness — you could see humanity at work,” Carlisle says.

Beyond her music, Carlisle is constantly recognized for her allyship to the LGBTQ+ community. Her status as a gay icon became clear in the late ‘70s “punk days” while performing in The Go-Go’s. “My attitude was always, well, they have the best taste. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but it’s true,” she says.

One of her biggest hits, “Heaven is a Place on Earth,” even became an official queer love anthem. In 2016’s “Black Mirror: San Junipero,” the song connects the two female protagonists who fall for each other, tying the story together thematically. While Carlisle admits to never getting around to watching the episode, she still recognizes its undeniable impact.

“It brought a whole new life to that song [from 1987]. It brought a whole new demographic of fans for me,” Carlisle says. “I heard that the way it’s used was really clever. And actually, the director of the episode had to have that song — that was what the whole episode was about. So I have to [finally] see it. I always kind of forget everything.”

A throughline in her decades-spanning career is Carlisle recognizing that allyship shouldn’t feel like a conscious effort. And that’s especially true in a year that has already seen countless attacks on queer and trans rights.

“Most of my friends are gay and lesbian, and I just always felt a real duty to do what I could,” Carlisle says. “I know that I will always continue to do what I can to be a voice for the community, especially having a son that’s being affected by all this.”

In an age where authenticity is currency and cannabis is culture, Loud and Proud is the ultimate crossover event. Popping off at The Abbey on Thursday, August 28th, this year’s festivities elevate the radical joy of queer and cannabis culture to a whole new level. With a lineup that serves up genre-bending music and advocacy, the Loud and Proud free community event gives way to inclusive expression. Light ‘er up, buttercup.

Enter S.I.A.T., the soulful multi-disciplinary artist behind SLAPTUAL sound (spiritual music that slaps), whose name (and ethos) was born from alignment with a dash of happenstance. Hailing from Sacramento but flying on a frequency entirely her own, S.I.A.T. joins the Loud and Proud music festival to perform for and connect with her fellow citizens of the world, bringing her unapologetic authenticity, R&B realness, and healing energy to a sea of folks ready to vibe to something real. We had the chance to connect with S.I.A.T. ahead of her performance to talk about cannabis, community, and what it means to claim your voice, even if you’re still stuck in a tree.

In our interview, she shares how cannabis, community, and compassion fuel both her art and her mission to connect with people on a healing frequency.

You’re performing at Loud and Proud: Tracing the Smoke Back to Its Source on August 28th at The Abbey. How does the event’s theme — celebrating cannabis and inclusive spaces — resonate with your personal values and artistic identity?

I think it’s really beautiful. While I might not be directly part of the LGBTQIA+ community, I absolutely believe that music, cannabis, and all kinds of spaces should be inclusive and expansive — open to people from all walks of life. That’s something I truly strive to express in my music.

I make spiritual music, and I intentionally create it for people who may not be at the end of their healing journey, or who might not have the “right” language or understanding yet. You’ve got to meet people where they are and make them feel welcome at any stage. That’s something I believe is essential in any community — making sure there’s something for everyone, no matter who walks through the door.

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Your tracks like “Stay In My Lane,” “Where’s the Lie,” and “Thoughts of You” offer this balance of vulnerability and strength. How do you approach merging emotional honesty with slick R&B production?

Honestly? I don’t put too much thought into it — that’s just who I am. Speaking my truth comes naturally. Music is a form of manifestation. What you say in music has the power to become reality, so I use it as a way to shape experiences into something beautiful and real.

R&B is a perfect fit for that — it’s my natural vibe. I grew up on the genre and all its evolutions. So it just aligns with me and the kind of emotion I want to express.

Can you think of a moment where you wrote a lyric that made you stop and go, “Whoa — I really said that”?

Yes, actually! In “Where’s the Lie,” I wrote:
“Sometimes I lose my ways — that’s the heart in me. But if I don’t choose myself, I’ll lose a part of me.”

When I wrote it, it flowed out naturally. But sitting with it later, I realized how powerful it was. We’re human. We make mistakes, we give too much, or not enough — that’s part of life. But if you don’t actively choose yourself, if you don’t make that conscious decision to prioritize your own growth and well-being, you risk losing your spark, your motivation, even your identity.

At the time, I was in a season of finally choosing myself. I remember thinking, “Okay… who do I think I am?!” [laughs]

Dream collab — past or present. Who would it be, and why?

Erykah Badu. Easily.

She came into the neo-soul space with a completely unique sound — people compared her to Billie Holiday, who also had a style that was unfamiliar at the time but absolutely undeniable. Badu never let adversity dim her light. Her lyricism, her musical choices, the way she hears melody — it’s visionary. She’s had a huge influence on me, and I admire her so much.

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You’re originally from Sacramento. How has your local scene — and that “slap show” sound — shaped your musical path?

Sacramento is where it all began for me. When I started, I was more involved in the visual arts scene — painting, fashion, sculpture. It was a really immersive and supportive space. As I transitioned into music, I found another layer of community.

“Slap show music” actually came from a TikTok moment! I made a video and said, “I make spiritual music that slaps.” A woman commented, half-joking, “Oh, so you make slap show music? Please don’t block me!” [laughs] I was like… wait, that’s genius.

The name stuck. Just like “Stuck In A Tree” — my artist name — which also came to me through my creative process and community. Everything I’ve built stems from that foundation in Sacramento.

Tell me more about the name “Stuck In A Tree.” It’s so memorable.

It started back in high school. I was always artsy — a painter, designer, sculptor — and when Instagram was still new, I made my handle “StuckInATree.” I got that name because my art teacher used to label our tables by animal personality. I was at the squirrel table — I guess I had that squirrely, high-energy vibe!

When I started doing music in 2018, I told the studio my name was “Stuck In A Tree,” and they abbreviated it to “S.I.A.T.” I didn’t even realize it until someone came in, saw it, and said, “Yo, SI — that’s a fire name.” And it clicked. I thought, “Okay, I’m SI now.” [laughs] It all felt given to me — like pieces of a bigger picture.

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Back to Loud and Proud — the event connects cannabis and culture. How do you see cannabis intersecting with creative expression and liberation?

For so long, cannabis was criminalized, hidden, even though it grows from the earth and offers so many healing benefits. The LGBTQIA+ community has faced similar experiences — being misunderstood, pushed aside, and denied autonomy.

Now, both are reclaiming space. Cannabis is becoming recognized for its healing properties, and LGBTQIA+ individuals are increasingly able to live openly and joyfully. These worlds intersect through expression, healing, and authenticity. Events like this highlight how far we’ve come — and how much more expansive our culture can be when we embrace freedom and reject judgment.

What does owning your voice as a woman of color mean to you? What do you want the next generation to take from your journey?

Owning my voice gives me an endless flow of confidence. It’s not always easy — but every time I show up as myself, I’m an example for another young girl who looks like me. I want her to know: you don’t have to wait for permission.

I believe representation is power. When you see someone who shares your background doing something you’ve dreamed of, it lifts invisible weights. It’s no longer “impossible” — it’s within reach. That’s what I want to pass on.

What’s something your younger self believed that you’ve completely rewritten?

My dad used to say, “Sweetie, not everyone is like us.” I didn’t get it at the time, but now I do. I’ve always been giving, genuine, and trusting — and I used to think everyone operated that way. I’ve learned to protect that part of myself.

Being kind is a gift, not a weakness. I wish I had seen that earlier — that these traits are actually my superpowers. They deserve to be guarded and given wisely.

What role do events like Loud and Proud play in shaping the future of entertainment — and society?

They break boundaries. Events like this cross-pollinate — music, cannabis, healing, community. I’m actually being sponsored for the first time by Tree X Lines, a beautiful company that advocates for connection and culture, and it’s such a full-circle moment for me.

We’re moving into a future where gatekeeping is fading. Independent artists like myself are running our own labels, building real communities, and showing that you don’t need a corporation to validate your art. It’s about collaboration — not competition.

What can fans expect from your performance? Are there any songs you’re especially excited to share?

Vibes, energy, connection — I’m coming to really meet people where they are. I’ll be performing fan favorites like “Stay in My Lane” and “Where’s the Lie,” but I’m also previewing two unreleased tracks from my upcoming debut album, Space Cadet.

One of those songs is called “Doing Me,” and it’s like “Stay in My Lane,” but with top-down, valley-girl-in-L.A. energy. It’s giving sunshine, clarity, and confidence — and I can’t wait to share it.

What message do you hope fans take from your music and story?

Honestly, the messages I’ve gotten from fans say it better than I ever could. People tell me my music helped them through depression, made them better parents, helped them leave toxic relationships, or reconnect with their power.

When I first put my music out, I was just trying to feel better. I didn’t have some grand mission. But now I see that showing up authentically — and vulnerably — gives others permission to do the same. That’s what my music does. It becomes their affirmation, their self-talk, their transformation.

What’s next for S.I.A.T? What can we expect in the near future?

Big things. I just launched my independent label, Slap Show Music Records, and I’m building a platform that supports not just musicians but artists of all kinds — producers, poets, designers, community leaders.

My 11-track debut album Space Cadet is on the way. There may or may not be a local tour brewing. Definitely merch. Definitely more collabs. I want to use this platform to uplift others, break down industry walls, and keep expanding this community in a meaningful way.

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Loud and Proud is FREE, RSVP HERE.

Thursday, August 28th, 6 – 9 pm,

The Abbey: 692 N ROBERTSON BLVD, WEST HOLLYWOOD

For decades and centuries, powerful institutions, governments, and cultural forces have deliberately erased our stories. They have tried to rewrite the record, to silence our voices, and to make our existence invisible. Today, this erasure takes new forms: laws banning trans books, curricula wiped clean of our narratives, and efforts to erase us from public life altogether. Yet despite these attacks, trans history remains alive and accessible if you know where to look and who is telling the story.

At the forefront of this resistance is artist and filmmaker Zackary Drucker. Through her groundbreaking work, she does more than tell stories; she reclaims history. “I’m not in it for me. I’m in it for the justice. I’m in it for creating more equality. Equality is very important to me—that we all are able to live in parity with each other,” Drucker told me. This commitment animates every film, every story, and every archive she restores, reminding us that trans history is not just about remembering the past but shaping a more equitable future.

“I sought out the legends in the queer community because they made me feel anchored,” Drucker said. “Having intergenerational relationships — it’s the best stuff in life.” That instinct to look to elders, absorb their wisdom, and carry their stories forward animates all of Drucker’s work.

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Take Disclosure, the 2020 documentary she co-produced, which exposes the powerful role media has played in shaping how trans people are seen, often as stereotypes, villains, or punchlines. “As opponents to our rights assert that we popped up ten years ago,” Drucker explained, “the only offset to that is to highlight examples from deep history and say, actually, that is not true.” The film makes clear that representation is not neutral. The stories told on screens large and small have real consequences for our lives.

In Framing Agnes, Drucker turns to another hidden archive: the trans people who participated in early gender research studies in the 1960s. For years, their experiences were reduced to clinical notes and case files, erased from public memory. But through reenactment and personal testimony, she and her collaborators restore their voices. “One of us can’t do it singularly,” she said. “It really is strength in numbers.” The film becomes a reminder that history is not lost. It is waiting in the archives, waiting to be reclaimed.

The Stroll brings us back to the streets of New York’s Meatpacking District, a vanished neighborhood where trans women of color carved out community and joy despite relentless policing and violence. The neighborhood’s erasure through gentrification mirrors broader societal attempts to erase trans lives. “Our predecessors are speaking through us at this point because we’re here,” Drucker reflected. “And I realized today — now it’s me. Now it’s you. Now we have to tell these stories. It’s up to us to keep them alive.”

Her latest work, Enigma, delves into the intertwined lives of two trans icons whose histories speak to the complexities of identity, secrecy, and legacy. Set against the backdrop of a legendary Parisian nightclub, the film explores how trans people have forged sisterhood and sanctuary even when the world sought to silence them. “Being stealth gave some people safety,” Drucker told me, “but it also meant erasing yourself to be accepted.” For Drucker, the film is about reclaiming those hidden lives and making them visible again. “We need reminders that we’ve always been here, and that we have a future worth fighting for.”

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What unites all of these works is not just their artistry, but their urgency. “Hope is central to survival,” Drucker said. “We won’t survive without it.” In a time when it would be easy to give in to despair, Drucker reminds us that reclaiming history is not just about remembering the past. It is about sustaining our future.

This Trans History Month, as forces still work to erase us, let us remember that our history is not only a record of struggle but also a source of strength and identity. It is ours to reclaim, to share, and to celebrate. Through films, art, and storytelling, trans people are ensuring that our history is never lost again. And as Drucker puts it with a touch of whimsy and profound truth: “At the last—the last human on Earth, they’ll be telling their story to a squirrel. Humans will tell stories forever.”

Check out the full interview: