For many people, church is the house of God and the ideal of it is supposed to be where God resides. It’s been a while since I’ve been in Sunday school, but I do remember that the term ‘church’ can refer to a physical building as well as the “believers” that occupy a space. If I make no mistake, both are supposed to be a place where you go for comfort, seek guidance, and a place of healing for both those seeking and receiving, but sadly that’s not usually the reality for most of us of Trans or queer experience.

On November 22, the NYC homecoming ceremony for the icon, activist and matriarch Miss Major Griffin-Gracy was held. The service took place at The Riverside Church in Manhattan, a church that’s supposed to have a long standing history of being inclusive and supportive of the LGBTQIA community. They even have a Maranatha ministry, a ministry dedicated to being the first LGBTQIA parish-based ministry within the United Church of Christ. With advertising like that, you can imagine the shock and confusion when attendees of Miss Major‘s home going service were asked to leave abruptly with no explanation given to the mourners.

July 21st marks Zero HIV Stigma Day. It deeply saddens me to reflect on the unfortunate cuts to HIV research, the criminalization of those living with the illness, and the fact that the top three communities impacted by HIV—Black individuals, men who have sex with men (MSX), cisgender women, and transgender people—are often overlooked.

I long for conversations about HIV to be normalized, free from shame, judgment, or stigma. In my view, these are key factors that allow HIV to run rampant in our communities. We engage in many discussions, not just about HIV but about disclosure on various topics, yet we fail to create a safe space for such discussions. Disclosing your transgender identity can put you at risk, even from someone who looks and sounds just like you. When we add another “taboo” or a barrier to the mix, it complicates matters further. People shy away from discussing these issues because it challenges the reality they work hard to maintain—a sense of normalcy. I pray for a day when we can have honest conversations about something as normal as sex and how to protect ourselves. Until that point, we must stop asking for disclosure when we aren't taking the necessary precautions for our safety, such as using PrEP, Doxy PEP, condoms, and engaging in open conversations about safer sex.

As I sit here watching cartoons with my cat, smoking a joint, and reflecting on the holidays, the elections, and community, a quote from a kids' show called “Phineas and Ferb” sent me into a rabbit hole of why I love villains and antiheroes. The quote was, “A hero is a hero, but everybody loves a great villain.” As a Black, non-binary, Trans feminine person, my existence is often used as a scapegoat for ignorance and justifications of people's rage, without them knowing who I am and only being concerned with what I am. How long must all of my communities endure this? Let’s not forget that intersectionality is real; I’m not just fighting racism; I’m fighting sexism, transphobia, homophobia, ableism, and the list goes on. Like many people in marginalized communities that I share space with, all we want is to live a happy and free life. The reality is that most of us are surviving, and the few of us who are thriving are told we should be grateful for the bare minimum that many of our counterparts take for granted.