•• Photographs by C.S. Muncy ••
I’m always a little wary of corporate gay organizations, because big money has been known to corrupt good intentions. So, for me, Pride has become a time to celebrate the independent spirits who do good work for the queer community all year long, without the help of huge publicity, celebrities, or paychecks. The grassroots activists who put themselves out there to make a difference without trying to become celebrated are my choice as the ones most worth celebrating. As queers are under attack more than ever from malicious right-wingers looking for a scapegoat, these righteous queers aim to lift up their peers with a variety of services and support.
This Pride, let us honor an Egyptian-born, NYC-based trans woman who has devoted herself to finding asylum for persecuted trans people around the globe. A trans man who helps provide success-oriented services to LGBTQs in the Bronx. A gay activist who rallies against queerphobia by protesting with a bevy of savvy organizations. And a married gay couple who are the crowned royalty of a flamboyant organization that fundraises for queer charities all year.
“When you see a world that’s full of people ginning up hatred, it’s important that there be something to counter that — that there be a loud vocal opposition that calls out the lie.”
With anti-trans rhetoric amping up, America is hardly a friendly place for people born in the wrong body. But it’s even worse in faraway places that make America’s hate look like just a dress rehearsal. Iman Le Caire would know. Growing up in Egypt as “a feminine boy,” she was raped at age 8 by a neighbor, and when word got out, Le Caire — the victim — was hypocritically condemned and further abused. Then, when she was 10, her phobic brother viciously attacked her with a knife; she still has the scar.
Later, on her own, Le Caire worked as a dancer for the Cairo Opera House and also choreographed for major Egyptian pop stars, such as actor/singer Samira Said and award-winning dance artist Mohamed Hamaki. But in 2001, the country’s draconian anti-queer laws resulted in her being arrested on bogus charges that, as she says, “I was doing devious things in the streets of Cairo. Not true!” Two years of jail time, on and off, followed, and a lot more abuse.
And so, in 2008, Le Caire fled to New York, stayed in a Brooklyn Heights hostel, and, at a lesbian bar in Brooklyn, met a woman who helped her get a lawyer. That year she was granted asylum, and also started transitioning to female.
Jump ahead to Covid lockdown in 2020, and the earthy and passionate Le Caire — who’s well known on social networks — started getting requests from trans people around the world, begging for help in relocating. She promptly founded Trans Asylias, a nonprofit org based in her Hudson Yards apartment (with husband Jean Manuel Le Caire as executive director), and got to work doing GoFundMe’s to pay for lawyers, getting gay councilman Erik Bottcher to aid her in unraveling international red tape and helping trans people in places like Iran and Pakistan to safety. Thanks to Trans Asylias — you can volunteer and donate on their website — a trans woman from Yemen who was targeted by the government simply for having plucked eyebrows got a visa to live in France, where she was even provided housing and some spending money to survive on. A Syrian trans woman who bravely scaled the Turkish border wall and was subsequently sent to a refugee camp now lives safely in Canada. And a trans man from Saudi Arabia was separated from his transphobic family by Le Caire and is now safe in Europe.
“I want to save them from suffering or war zones,” says Le Caire of her clients. “I want them to heal and feel better. They’re coming from abusive families and neighborhoods. The reason I do this job is I feel alive again. I never took care of myself before. I take care of myself now because of the people I’m helping. It makes me feel I have some power. It makes me privileged to live here. I live in Hudson Yards and have a husband. Most of the people I work with don’t have any hope. They just want to die. I want them to feel they have a family. America’s going backward,” she adds ruefully. “That’s scaring me. But I’m always hopeful!”
Activism comes naturally to Jay W. Walker, who’s turned up at virtually every queer rally I’ve been to in the past five years. Walker grew up in Virginia, the child of a single mother who had participated in the March on Washington, and was friends with Malcolm X and worked with the Black Panthers. “I grew up recognizing how important it is for people to stand up and counter hatred and bigotry,” says the tall, T-shirted (usually with a slogan) Walker. “It definitely feeds the soul and the spirit.” A fundraising professional who came to New York in 1985, Walker was deeply affected by Matthew Shepard’s murder, in 1998; that horror turned him into a direct-action activist, participating in a group that pushed for hate crimes legislation in New York. Working with GMHC from ’97 to 2007, he joined that organization in marches and other actions aimed at getting attention for HIV. After that, he worked as a real estate agent and became far less involved in protests, until June 2016, when a gunman killed 49 people and wounded 53 at the Orlando gay club Pulse, a monstrous act that re-galvanized Walker back to the streets.
Today, Walker — a cisgender gay man — is easily one of the city’s busiest activists, working with Gays Against Guns, the Reclaim Pride Coalition (which, since 2019, has organized the Queer Liberation March, an activist answer to the more celebratory Heritage of Pride March, both held on Pride Sunday), and Rise and Resist (a pro-democracy group that was formed when Donald Trump was elected, in 2016).
And his activist palette keeps expanding. Last fall, Walker joined Drag Queen Story Defenders, working to prevent protesters from getting into libraries where these events are happening and harassing the participants. Is there any irony in the fact that he’s a protester, yet he’s blocking protesters? He laughs. “You can definitely see it as an irony,” he replies, “the difference being that we’re protecting little kids. And as a gay person, this whole thing of ‘Drag Story Hour is corrupting kids’ … they’ve been doing this type of argument since the ’50s. It’s just the latest iteration of ‘Queers are gonna molest, recruit, and corrupt your kids.’”
Walker’s driving force? “When you see a world that’s full of people ginning up hatred, it’s important that there be something to counter that — that there be a loud vocal opposition that calls out the lie.”
“There’s a little of showing off — everyone wants to see what you’re wearing — but everyone there had raised thousands for charity!”
Sean Coleman says he wanted to create an organization in one of the outer boroughs “where LGBTQs, especially Black and brown ones, have their own space — where they don’t have to leave their neighborhoods to receive services they need. I also wanted to show there is Pride in the outer boroughs.” In 2009, after working with programs such as Bronx AIDS Services, Coleman (who is Brooklyn-born and lives in New Jersey) founded and became the executive director of Destination Tomorrow, a Bronx-based nonprofit offering programs and services that span housing, health, finance, and education.
“I thought the Bronx got a bad reputation because some people made it sound like it’s not a safe space,” he explains, “and I knew that not to be the case. I wanted to elevate the visibility of the LGBTQ community in the Bronx.” The org has two headquarters — the main one is at 149th Street and Third Avenue, where all kinds of help is provided, thanks to donations and government funding. There have been programs such as Career Readiness (“Sharpen your job interview skills and receive professional development training”), as well as medical-referral advice, HIV testing, and syringe access. The site details which services require enrollment, though drop-ins during approved hours are OK for testing as well as for socializing or to “browse our clothing exchange for casual and business wear and stock up on personal hygiene products.”
In addition to the in-house activities, Destination Tomorrow hosts Bronx Pride (a performance-laden festival happening on June 17) and runs a 32-room shelter for victimized trans people, plus a food pantry. Thanks to grants from Gilead Sciences, they also farm out money to trans organizations around the country.
A trans man, Coleman is all too aware that certain members of the community are treated with less urgency than others. “Trans men are oftentimes invisible,” he says. “There’s a certain level of erasure when it comes to programs and services. When we think of the trans community, we often think of trans women. I want people to pivot from that.” He also does outreach to make sure the ballroom community knows of the services available.
Reaching out to all queers, the DT programs are “people-focused” and tend to be realistic. “You can give folks housing, but are you teaching them how to sustain independent living?” wonders Coleman. “We provide economic empowerment, giving the tools people need to be successful.”
Who cares about the British royal family? Right here in Gotham, we have the Imperial Court of New York — a ceremonial organization of real drag queens and kings who spark no scandals whatsoever, as they’re too busy raising money for queer charities on a constant basis. New York is one of 70 “kingdoms” in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico under the umbrella of the Imperial Court. (The ICNY emerged in 1986.)
In 2020, Graham D’Craquer (Graham Mills Nelan) and his husband, Madelyn Keyth (Keyth L. Nelan), were elected Emperor and Empress for that year, and this year, when no one applied for the titles, they were appointed again. (They are Regent Emperor XXXII and Regent Empress XXXVII.)
The Bronx-born Keyth was a bartender and drag performer, and met Pennsylvania-born Graham, who had worked in organized medicine, at the Imperial Court 10 years ago. Since marrying, in 2018, they’ve had a lot to talk about at home, particularly when it comes to discussing the events they do through the Court, benefiting organizations such as Trinity Place Shelter, God’s Love We Deliver, Thursday’s Child, and the Tyler Clementi Foundation. “We say ‘We put the fun in fundraising,’ and we really do,” enthuses Emperor Graham. It could be a Manhattan club event (often a drag show), an online jewelry auction, or a drag sale on Fire Island, and since venues and goods are regularly donated, maximum profit is realized. What’s more, anything these two royals spend — on their outfits and bling or their travel to coronations around the country — comes out of their own pockets, and they even buy tickets to their own events. On top of that, they match any expense spending by contributing the same amount to one of the chosen charities. “No wonder no one applied this year,” I said, laughing, and they chortled along.
Says Keyth, “For me, this goes all the way back to the ’80s. I like to boast that I believe I did the first AIDS benefit on Long Island, in 1984, trying to help an HIV college group.” Going to an Imperial Court coronation ball in Honolulu, in 1986, he recalls, “I was amazed by the dazzle, the splendor, and the charity. There’s a little of showing off — everyone wants to see what you’re wearing — but everyone there had raised thousands for charity!”
Chimes in Graham: “I came out in the beginning of the AIDS pandemic. I quickly understood that our community needed to step up to the plate and help. I got involved in organizations. When I retired, in 2012, I was casting about to find an organization that met my objectives of raising money. The Court was on the horizon and happy to accept me as a member.” And it’s a good thing they did. Hail to the queens! ❖
Michael Musto has written for the Voice since 1984, best known for his outspoken column “La Dolce Musto.” He has penned four books, and is streaming in docs on Netflix, Hulu, Vice, and Showtime.
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