A Time for Liberation: Honoring Black Queer and Trans Lives

Every June, we observe both Pride Month and Juneteenth. While celebrations increase in volume, the deeper truths risk fading into the background. Amongst the corporate floats and rainbow-themed events, a silence looms, threatening to erase the stories of those who never lived to witness this era of supposed freedom. This month should be more than just a celebration; it should be a moment of reflection and action.

Intersections of History: Pride and Juneteenth

Juneteenth signifies the delayed liberation of enslaved Black individuals in Texas. Pride commemorates the courage of queer and transgender individuals, many of them Black and Brown, who stood firm at Stonewall and beyond. The intersection of these legacies—Black queer and transgender individuals who have faced enslavement, incarceration, disease, and neglect—remains largely unacknowledged.

We must remember Frances Thompson, a Black transgender woman born into slavery. She survived the Memphis Massacre of 1866 and courageously testified before Congress about being assaulted by white men. Her decision to speak out was an act of bravery, marking her as one of the earliest known anti-rape activists in U.S. history. Historian Channing Joseph noted that Thompson’s testimony was pivotal in generating the political will to pass civil rights legislation and support Reconstruction following the Civil War.

A decade later, Thompson was arrested for "cross-dressing" and publicly exposed in the press. She died shortly after her release from prison. Her story is factual, not folklore, and she was not an anomaly; her life was a precursor to the ongoing struggles faced by many.

Mourning the Unnamed and Forgotten

This June, we must also grieve for those whose names we may never know: Black queer and trans individuals who succumbed to AIDS during the height of the crisis in the 1980s and early 1990s. Many refer to this time as “The Plague Years.” These individuals were often too impoverished, isolated, or shamed to have their names included in obituaries. They were artists, friends, lovers, and caregivers, buried in silence, while the stories of white gay men were frequently memorialized and remembered.

We remember Black queer and transgender people who are incarcerated, enduring criminalization, abuse, and solitary confinement simply for being who they are. We must also acknowledge those rejected by their families, excluded by predominantly white LGBTQ+ organizations, or lost to systemic neglect.

This Juneteenth, amidst the celebrations of Pride Month, we must create spaces not only for celebration but also for mourning. We need spaces for tears, memories, and rage for the many Black queer and trans lives lost this year alone. The relentless toll from police violence, healthcare neglect, transphobic violence, and untreated trauma continues. Every name we chant represents many others. Every life lost demands action.

A Call to Action for Liberation

Let this month serve as a reminder to recommit ourselves to Black queer and transgender liberation—not as an afterthought to other struggles, not as a minor part of Pride, not as a singular hashtag—but as an urgent call and a continuation of an ancestral fight.

Before the advent of rainbow capitalism, before the rise of viral visibility, and long before any official declarations of liberation, Black queer and trans individuals were always fighting for freedom.

Some of their names are known. Most remain unknown. All deserve to be remembered and honored.