The first episode, titled after the song’s opening lyric (“seekest thou the Road”) sets us on the journey outlined by the song the coven sings to open the gate that leads to the Witches’ Road. Each of the witches on this journey hopes to regain her lost power by traveling, but that will mean something different for each of them. Alice Wu-Gulliver (Ali Ahn) sings the same “sacred chant” lyrics as the rest, but she is secretly dancing to a different beat.

Alice’s mother, the rock goddess Lorna Wu (Elizabeth Anweis), left behind a platinum-level hit version of the ballad, with slightly different lyrics. Comparing the first verse from the two, the differences are immediately visible:

Seekest thou the Road I have learned the lesson
To all that’s foul and fair Of all that’s foul and fair
Gather sisters fire, Our love was forged in fire
water, earth and air water, earth and air

We’ve seen the Witches’ Road test Marvel’s Coven of Chaos with water and fire so far with flooding houses and burning music studios. Episode 4 ends with what might be a trial of earth, as the witches are pulled underground. But it also saw them flying through the element of air on broomsticks, so we’ll have to stay tuned to know what’s next.

Lorna’s version of the ballad focuses on the more personal parts of the journey, offering to “risk this heart of mine” rather than the general promise of “glory shall be thine” as offered in the original. In episode 3, Alice explains that her mother was trying to open the Road every time she performed the song. Confiding in Lilia Calderu (Patti LuPone), she says that the whole crowd at her sold-out shows were her coven.

Some of the biggest departures in the songs’ meanings occur in the chorus. Both invite us to go down, down, down the Road. However, the chant tells us we are in a “circle sewn with fate,” while Lorna asks us to “follow me, my friend.” As the relationships in the show swing from antagonism to friendship, viewers can feel the tension between those concepts. Will they walk the road, as Lorna’s version says, “together and alone?” Or will only one of them find “glory at the end?”

 

 

 

 

Verse two raises some interesting questions regarding the true identities of some of the characters we’re on this jourrney with. In the original, the witches sing, “I hold Death’s hand in mine.” Along with fans speculating over the Teen’s real name, many are wondering whether green witch Rio Vidal (Aubrey Plaza) is actually Lady Death, Thanos’ ultimate beloved and the Marvel universe’s personification of death itself. This is juxtaposed to Wu’s defiance in her lyrics: “to love that never dies.” Based on the conclusion of episode 3, we can assume that love is the one she shares with her daughter. But with Alice down for the count at the end of episode 4, we don’t know anything for sure.

 

The 1970s rock version of the ballad has one thing the original does not: a bridge. It contains instructions seemingly meant for Alice alone: “remember what I told you/ it’s the only way we survive.” Those these words might have gotten the daughter through a trial by fire, they might mean even more as the Road leads on.

 

Finally, the two cuts of the ballad hold hints about where Agatha All Along and the road will end. The original speaks of “tricks and trials,” which we’re already seeing plenty of as the miniseries heads to its conclusions. Lorna’s song, however, tells us “what’s lost is found, what’s fierce is bound,” which hints at reversals of fortune to come. The fierceness that’s bound might be Agatha’s power, or that of the Teen, revealed in episode 4 to be Wiccan, also known as Billy Kaplan, son of Scarlet Witch. Like his mother, this hero can warp reality. Scarlet Witch has used this power in the past to resurrect the dead and preserve those she loves. As Wu’s song says, we still have to “dance with death” but she also says, “I’ll see you at the end.”

This likely means we have not seen the last of this mother-daughter duo. And we shouldn’t count anyone out, no matter how dead they seem to have been. You can catch new episodes of Agatha All Along on Wednesdays at 9pm ET / 6pm PT on Disney+.

The post ‘Agatha All Along’: How “The Witches’ Road” Song Tells Us What’s to Come appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

Debut author Kamilah Cole is not the least bit shy. When asked about So Let Them Burn, she laughs and gushes; she leaks excitement through every word.

Speaking with BGN over the phone, she shared her ambitions and dreams for this first book, for herself as an author, and for Black fantasy nerds all over the world.

The relationship between two sisters is such a huge part of the book. Is that drawn from life?

I do have a sister, and I love her so much. We’re generation apart, so she’s a lot younger. SLTB is mostly about Faron, but even in her late twenties, there was no way that her Black parents would let her go to war. So I thought she should have an older sister who she could take with her, so they’d hate it a little less.

The older sister, Elara, wasn’t a point of view character at first; she was a babysitter. But then I realized that two sisters can be peers while the older feels responsibility and resentment for the younger. The sister story is integral. Having them play off each other, that’s the story.

Are the very protective parents in the book like yours?

My parents would never let me go to war! But it’s never come up. These aren’t play-by-play like my parents. But I think the relationship with our parents is super important, so I wanted my characters to have active relationships, unlike most young adult protagonists. I wanted to show the strain between them.

Faron has such a rich and interesting relationship with the gods. How did you develop that?

I started off thinking of a Joan of Arc story. She heard the voices of angels telling her to go to war and free France. I wanted to do something like that! I love stories about gods and monsters. I wanted to have a heroine who is absolutely in direct contact with and connected to the gods of this world, hearing them, channeling magic. I was always a Greek mythology nerd. I loved that they had specific gods for specific concepts and realms. The Greek myths are like fanfic! They’re all messy. I’m like Marie Kondo — I love mess.

I’m much more a fantasy nerd than sci-fi, though Pacific Rim is my favorite movie of all time. The concept in my book of two riders per dragon is based on drift compatibility [the shared mental load of controlling a mecha between two pilots in Pacific Rim].

Who is So Let Them Burn for?

I wrote this book for Black teens. I want kids to see Black girls riding dragons but also dealing with larger issues like colonialism and family. I don’t want them to take as long as I did to know who they are and what they’re really into.

My dream was to have a Black girl front and center on the cover. My publishers asked me what I wanted and came back with artist Taj Francis, who’s also Jamaican and did the cover for J. Elle’s Wings of Ebony. I literally cried when they showed me the cover art. I reached out to thank Taj on Instagram, to tell him it was the most beautiful thing I’d seen. He reminded me that though I haven’t been back to Jamaica in a while, we share this sense of community. We are Black, with roots in the African slave trade. But when it comes to identity, Jamaicans and Caribbeans in general have a different sense of belonging.

What inspires you?

When I finished my first book, Black Panther, The Hate U Give, and Children of Blood and Bone were all out. I was seeing Black authors and creators who took off and had huge success. And it wasn’t that I didn’t know you could write Black characters in stories like these, but I thought they’d never be bestsellers. These all had real commercial appeal, and I hadn’t seen that before. I wanted my book in conversations with those authors and those works. They inspired me, and I wanted other Black authors to be inspired by my work.

How do you feel now that your own work is entering this conversation?

I’m thirteen anxieties in a trench coat right now! Anxiety is a paralyzing fear of the unknown, and there’s nothing more unknown than how people are going to receive your book. A lot of authors struggle with depression and anxiety — maybe that’s why we’re creative geniuses! But it’s about not letting that stop you from following your dreams. Do the scary thing because you deserve to see your work out there. Don’t let your brain stop you.

What happens next? Is there a sequel in the works?

Yes! The second book in the The Divine Traitors series will have a much wider scope. In So Let Them Burn, the focus is on the sisters and on Faron’s struggle to save Elara with touches of the wider political scope. In Book 2, they’re in the thick of it, and they don’t like that.

Gen Z is very passionate and political, and their tastes reflect that. They care about climate change and security; they’re so much smarter than I was at their age. I wanted to write this for them, with themes of what it’s like to be a teen inheriting a broken world, a world continually being broken by the people in charge. And heroes like them, making the world they want to see. Plus, a lot more kissing.

So Let Them Burn debuts on January 16, 2024, from Little, Brown Books for Young Readers.  

The post Author Kamilah Cole on ‘So Let Them Burn’ and Debuting with Dragons appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

As we all know, seeking enjoyment in Black-owned businesses and Black-led neighborhoods is a great place to start. So here are seven of the best Black-owned ice cream shops you should try out as you work to keep cool during the dog days of summer. 

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Goodies, Arlington, Virginia

This spot serves rich, Wisconsin-style frozen custard treats. Ice cream is fine, but custard is that something extra-special, making their desserts even more decadent than the typical cup or cone. The standout on this menu is the peach cobbler donut-wich, with the flavor of fresh peaches and the airy, dreamy donut holding it all together. 

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Urban Dessert Lab, Brooklyn, New York

With gorgeous packaging and elevated dairy-free treats, this is the shop you take your friend to when she’s the one who can’t eat anything and is picky to boot. Urban Dessert Lab serves oatmilk ice cream that will satisfy even the most exacting palate. Rich and creamy dairy-free offerings are served up Insta-ready, and the flavors can take you home again (strawberry shortcake) or somewhere you’ve never been before (coffee waffle crunch). Bonus: they’re expanding soon to L.A.!

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Ari’s Ice Cream Parlor & Cafe, St. Louis, Missouri

Speaking of taking you home: Ari’s is the ultimate neighborhood spot. With a menu listing options like biscuits and gravy as well as indulgent treats, there are a lot of reasons you might end up there. The best cool-down they have to offer is a tough call: both their black walnut and butter pecan ice creams are among the best to be had in the whole Midwest. 

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Miyako Old Fashion Ice Cream Shop, San Francisco, California

Tom, the owner of Miyako, often works the counter himself in this Japantown landmark. With over 100 flavors of ice cream to choose from, Miyako also hosts a huge selection of vintage and hard-to-find candies. This shop has one of the best hot fudge sundaes in San Francisco, but the go-to favorite is the ube flavor: pale purple, buttery, and out of this world. Don’t miss this one in the fog. 

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Sweet Stack Creamery, Atlanta, Georgia

Sweet Stack is one of those joints where everybody can find what they like. Boasting both traditional and cashew-based vegan ice cream, this shop has got it all. Rolling their ice cream sandwiches in toppings like Fruity Pebbles and crushed Oreo puts this place over the top, but one of the best things they offer is their red velvet ice cream flavor. A true Southern delicacy, it tastes like a June wedding between best friends. 

York Castle Ice Cream Company, Rockville, Maryland

Tropical and jerk flavors are in evidence at this spot that has moved a few times around the DC metro. Now in Rockville, this purveyor of Caribbean-style ice cream in distinct and mouth-watering flavors like banana and coconut does it like nobody else. Get something you won’t see anywhere else, like soursop (a flavor derived from a fruit not commonly seen outside of the tropics) or something you know you like in ice cream form, like mango, guava, or their beautifully intense ginger. 

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What’s the Scoop, Metuchen, New Jersey

Serving up the scoops in both their main location and from a cute blue truck, What’s the Scoop is a must-see in New Jersey. Classic flavors to please everybody abound — Milky Way, Rum Raisin, and Funfetti — but their Irish Whiskey flavor gives a little kick to an already fabulous treat on a hot afternoon. This shop also offers a very convenient online ordering system where you can pick out a sundae kit to-go, or even an ice cream cake. 

The post 7 Black-Owned Ice Cream Parlors to Enjoy This Summer appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

Mattel’s Barbie is a burgeoning IP universe kicked off by what the toymaker hopes will be a summer blockbuster. Prior to the SAG-AFTRA strike, the film has enjoyed a marketing junket that included stunning red carpet premiere appearances, and headshots of featured players like Issa Rae (this Barbie is President), Dua Lipa (this Barbie is a mermaid), and America Ferrera (she’s a human).

The point of Barbie (the doll) is that she’s a tool of the imagination for anybody who wants to play with her. The point of Barbie (the movie) is that this blank-blonde canvas of our imaginations cannot be sure who she is or what it all means without our projections onto her.

Faced with cellulite and her high-heel shaped feet falling flat, Barbie discovers that even a doll can have an existential crisis. Ken, perennial passenger in Barbie’s behind-the-wheel existence, discovers the same. The hero’s journey is hers, but the backseat boyfriend is along for the ride. What follows is a fascinating and surprisingly weird exploration of identity within the framework of corporate ownership.

Like the doll who forms the film’s basis, Barbie has to wrestle with three separate political and aesthetic waves of feminism, dealing directly (sometimes right on screen) with the acceptance and rejection of her impossible image by the girls and women whose dreaming and storytelling tool she is meant to be. Throughout the film, the doll who comes to the real world is confronted with worship, expectant awe, derision, and even dismissal by the girls she expects to receive her with love.

In the film, Barbie is not a singular individual, but an array of beautiful women fractured into different jobs and identities. This scatter of echoes notably includes Kate McKinnon as Weird Barbie, the one whose hair has been chopped, face tattooed, and whose legs are always in the splits position, and transgender actress Hari Nef (this Barbie is a doctor) who both allow for direct and indirect conversations about gender in the context of what it means to be Barbie. It is Weird Barbie who gives main character Barbie the choice that kicks off the path of the film. Barbie must choose which path to follow: pink satin heels or rose-gold-buckled Birkenstocks. Because a shoe is never just a shoe. Barbie has to choose whether it’s better to seek what is real or live forever in what is fake, plastic, and beautiful.

Who among us wouldn’t struggle with that choice?

Barbie’s struggles take her to the Real World, leading to confrontations with the law and the misogyny of our world. This allows Ken to recontextualize himself in a context where he comes first, and to decide what that means for him. Gosling’s performance in all this deepens him from happy-go-lucky hopeful to something more, echoing Robbie’s ability to go so deep into bimbo drag that she can make any role take on pathos and warmth. They both move from silly icons to lived-in characters who have changed over the course of the film.

President Barbie Issa Rae, in an appearance on the Jennifer Hudson Show, opened up about how it felt to play the iconic character and what informed her performance. “I played with Barbies, but I never imagined I would play Barbie, much less be in a Barbie movie.”

Actor and producer Rae described the process of creating President Barbie’s character, encouraged by Gerwig in early meetings. “My mom said, ‘Listen, you’re going to have Black Barbies in the house. You need to have that balance.’ Mind you — I was not allowed to watch PG-13 movies and all those kinds of things until I was the right age. If something was adult on TV, I couldn’t watch it. I couldn’t watch 90210, but she got me the 90210 Barbies. I made up the characters myself, and I tapped into that when making my character for the film.” Rae’s character in the film shows this connectedness to the material; both remote and imemdiate, both her own and influenced by the aspirational nature of being Barbie to a whole new generation.

Actress Alexandra Shipp (this Barbie is a celebrated author) echoed Rae in a red-carpet interview: “Greta makes a safe set. To work with a director like that is just a dream come true.” Shipp’s dreaminess comes across in all her scenes, where she acts out an imaginative kid’s idea of what it might be like to be a writer, but also very beautiful and never burdened by the demands of publishing. Her performance in this film is a hidden gem, making more out of a small part.

The Barbie dream comes true thanks in large part to heroic work by the visual appearance of the film. Production designer Sarah Greenwood and set decorator Katie Spencer capture the indelible mark of the iconic toy line, rendering the environment colorful in a way that is only ever created for children, opting for physical objects over special effects. In some scenes, flat stick-on decals form the ranks of prodcuts on shelves. In others, the viewer becomes aware that the water in Barbie’s shower is pretend, and the doll does not eat or drink. The cinematography gives us both the outside view of a person playing with dolls, but also the inside perspective of the dolls themselves. We are all Barbie; we are all Barbie’s dreamer.

The dream continues in the film’s soundtrack, teased in the trailers but rolling out as undeniable as summer itself in a series of needle-drops as well as one actual musical number by a man who needs to soulfully sing his side of things. This includes original work from Lizzo, Nicki Minaj, HAIM, and BIllie Eilish, to name a few, as well as a song from Barbie herself, Dua Lipa.

Like Barbie’s legacy, the film is not perfect but it is a lot of fun if you bring your imagination to it. Like Barbie, many viewers will find themselves flat-footed and confused, but still utterly in love with an idea who is fake and plastic and wonderful and can never die.

Barbie opens in theaters on July 21, 2023.

The post Review: In ‘Barbie’ Everything Is Beautiful and Everything Hurts appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

With a body of work that just keeps coming — The Reformatory, a new novel about the horrors of segregation will be published by Simon and Schuster in October 2023 — her point of view on the current glow-up of horror is thoughtful, engaging, and impressive. Speaking with BGN via video chat, Due had much to share.

What keeps you going in disheartening times?

Writing has always been the thing to sustain me during hard times. That’s been true through the pandemic, but I remember it was true in 2012 when my mother passed away. I was 14 when I had my BLM moment. Miami cops had beat a motorcyclist to death and then were acquitted, and that was when I realized we don’t matter. It blew my mind; this was the same nation to which I had been pledging allegiance.

I wasn’t naïve. My parents were civil rights activists, and I knew the fight remained. But the vastness of white supremacy is the major trauma in my life. I leaned on my writing through all of that. I finished The Reformatory during COVID after working on it for seven years. The literal notion that I might die got me on a page quota, and I finished that baby.

Is it easier to write horror than stories that end happily ever after?

It is for me! Some people escape through happy stories, and a lot of people like those. Patricia Stephens, my mother, was the first horror fan in my life. She used horror and fantasy and that immersion into imaginary monsters to heal herself from the real monsters of state violence. We all like a good comedy, and that’s the other side of the coin of how I handle myself. I don’t get to show that side of myself often. I try to give that bad feeling a face and a protagonist to fight it, to confront the unknown.  

What’s the work you’d recommend to get someone new into horror?

I love that horror is getting a glow-up right now. I’d say look for best-of-the-year short story anthologies and collections. Of course, I’d recommend my own collection, The Wishing Pool and Other Stories. Other Terrors: An Inclusive Anthology contains works only by marginalized authors. Anthologies can be uneven, but this one is consistent. For Black readers who might not think of themselves as horror fans, the first step is to see yourself. Seek out Black authors, as well as the works of other marginalized folks.

The documentary Horror Noire, of which you were a huge part, has been out for a couple of years. What was that project like for you? What has the aftermath been like?

I was so honored to have been a part of this. The production team came to me and brought me in after the film was written, to give interviews and to lend my name and support.

Alejandro Brugués, director of the film Juan of the Dead, told me he loved it. I was fangirling him, and he came back to tell me he loved Horror Noire. Brian Fuller said the same thing to me when we walked past one another in the hallway.

And then I worked on the anthology of the same name for the horror network Shudder — those are my first screen adaptations. I wrote the episodes “The Lake” and “Fugue State” with my husband, Stephen Barnes. That collab was a peak experience.

My only letdown was that I don’t feel like the series found its audience. That’s frustrating. You never feel like there’s enough billboards, never enough PR behind anything. But I love the short form, both in prose and scripts. I hope to be part of another anthology in the future. It is difficult but so exciting to create these pint-sized stories.

As a master of the horror genre, what kind of story still really scares you? What’s the monster you dread most?

So many stories begin with people moving into a dark house in the middle of nowhere. And they walk around the creepy house yelling, “Hello? Hello?” I wouldn’t do that, but they do. Everyone is so afraid that the house is haunted and they’ll meet a ghost. That doesn’t scare me; ghosts are simple. They want to be acknowledged, they want to tell somebody who killed them. But a demon? That’s the one that gets me. Demons can’t be placated. You can’t solve the mystery of how they died. It’s so hard to know how you pissed the demon off. Maybe you knocked a stone out of place, and now it’s an intergenerational curse.

I’m also afraid of zombies because they’re the monster who looks like a loved one. For those of us who have cared for aging parents or someone very ill, that can really hit home. They don’t know you, or they’re angry in their suffering. It’s like watching them transform into a zombie. That’s why they get under our skin so much. There’s too much truth to the zombie.

Who are you reading right now?

When I was at the L.A. Times Book Fair, I was paired with an author I didn’t know, but I was the last to find out about Leigh Bardugo. So now I’m reading Ninth House. It’s hot and I really like it.

The post Tananarive Due: What Scares a Luminary of Modern Horror appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

Your most recent novel, Lone Women, is the rare book that has a Black woman as its main character without making her the target of physical and sexual abuse. Can you tell us about creating Adelaide Henry and the life she lives as an early 20th-century homesteader in Montana?

A piece of good luck I had was that real Black women lived in that time and place. There was real Bertie Brown, who I based a character on, and she was making the most famous moonshine in three states back then. Her background might have been hardship, but the worst thing would be to ignore all that success and renown just to heap pain on her. People would come for me, and they’d be right to.

You write about small-town politics and the way small women’s groups decide who will prosper. Is that from experience or research?

I have to cop to it: In 1915, there were real Busy Bees community groups. But what I was also thinking about when I wrote it was that clichéd idea that if there were no men around, the women would be all peace and love. That’s not true; women are human beings. Who’s the villain here? It’s these wealthy white women in a frontier town. The Busy Bees genuinely see themselves as good people, and the women they decide to help see them as a force for pure good. The horror is that there are real people whose whims determine your fate.

Lone Women features a character who is obviously neurodivergent and turns out to be transgender too. What made you decide to include those details in a work of historical fiction?

It’s a love letter to a family member who I wanted to plant in there. Maybe someday they’ll read it and see that someone like them was always there. These identities are not centralized, not pathologized. I just wanted to remind people that these qualities are not a creation of the 20th century. And to leave someone a valentine.

Your books often include family secrets, and Lone Women is no exception. Why is that concept so important to you?

I come from a family that is very secretive. In particular, we were very secretive about the neurodivergence in our family. The more modern take that ND is just another way to be was not the bedrock of our belief. For my family, it was more about not letting outsiders in because they’d learn that we aren’t like everyone else.

The thing I was interested in was not the secret itself but the mistake of thinking that a secret keeps you safe. In reality, it just keeps you trapped. The way you show love to yourself is you tell everyone your story.

Mythologies from around the world appear in much of your work. Where do you draw inspiration from regarding what stories to choose and how to weave them in?

Growing up in Flushing, Queens, I was in this immigrant community. I had a lot of friends; I was in everyone’s house, and everyone was in mine. Grandparents and aunts and uncles would tell stories from Persia, India, Jamaica, or Norway. Right or wrong, these stories came to be sprinkled onto me. Bits and bobs, that’s the Queens way. I feel freedom to pick from them as long as I’m not claiming to be the authority on them.

Is there something powerful about the Other, in that how what we see is determined by what we already know?

Exactly! Whoever you are, if you’re not the norm where you’re raised, you’re a monster. But if you’re part of the norm in the place where you’re raised, there’s a good chance that you’re pretty wonderful.

My mother is from Uganda, so she was raised in a completely Black environment. The shock of coming to the U.S. and Canada for her was that in ways both explicit and inferred, her skin and her nose made her less. She thought these are great, these are normal features. But over time, she learned the norms of the place where she exists, and she started wearing a straight wig to work because she knew it would make people treat her more professionally. Under it was her natural hair, but that was a thing she couldn’t show except at home.

How do you feel about The Ballad of Black Tom being your best-known work?

Thrilled that any work is known. That’s a gift.

That book was the first one that was my full leap into horror. I felt trepidation. I hadn’t put in my time in the horror trenches. But I have always known that the horror community is so sweet and welcoming. When the book connected, I was grateful. At that time, there were me and Matt Ruff [Lovecraft Country] with books coming out on the same day. Cassandra Khaw and Ruthanna Emrys — we were all rethinking Lovecraft at the same time. We were all on a frequency at the same time.

You’ve spoken before about Lovecraft being inseparable from his racism, but do you struggle in the same way with contemporary writers?

Stephen King would be one of them — the most famous one. He was so formative to me, but so far, I haven’t found myself leaning into his old-school magical Negroes. I bounce off those characters as a rule, so the idea of wrestling them hasn’t occurred to me. The thing that I’m interested in with King is, the outsiders and losers and the space they get and why they get that space.

On the other hand, I think about Clive Barker. He was ahead of his time in many ways, and maybe there’s some book I didn’t read where he falters. But in my experience, he was so on point.

Now that you’re working on the sequel to Black Tom, what can you tell us about it?

I read an article a few weeks back that came up from the wrong time period for this story but was still very interesting to me. It was about this disturbing cultish community that came to a bad end. And it felt like the community had some spectral Black Tom-ish energy. It sparked the idea in me that the thing that’s missing from Ballad is women — so in the next one, this news story pointed me toward a story about a lot more women.

Can you say anything about the upcoming adaptation of The Changeling?

It’s coming out in September! But you’ll see a trailer in August.

Did you work as a writer on the show?

I worked as an executive producer on the series. I was on set every day, and I have a small but pivotal role in the show itself. Watch for that.

Who are you reading now?

The Strange by Nathan Ballingrud, which is basically True Grit on Mars. It’s a wonderful novel so far. And The Black Guy Dies First by Mark H. Harris and Robin R. Means Coleman.

The post Author Victor LaValle: The Man and the Myths appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

This move was a little ironic, considering the month of June was designated for Pride specifically to commemorate the riot against police brutality at New York’s Stonewall nightclub in June of 1969, which was part of a much larger movement buoyed by visible transgender and gender non-conforming activists like Marsha P. Johnson.

Events like Stonewall were happening in cities across America, with others like the Compton’s Cafeteria riot in 1966 providing animus and inspiration to queers from coast to coast, fueling decades of political activism and radical visibility for people who had lived in hiding for a long time. Pride was never just about gays and lesbians; it has, since its inception, been for and about the most marginalized members of the community. 

That marginalization has only increased since Pride began its existence, with legislation making life harder for transgender Americans in over a dozen states and over 124 bills introduced nationwide in 2023 (so far) aimed at curtailing the rights of LGBTQ people in housing, employment, healthcare and public accommodation. 

There’s never been a better time to be queer. And yet it is still a terrifying time to be queer. 

So how can someone be a good ally to the queer community? 

Speak up

To members of the queer community like myself, these difficult times make even small gestures of support pretty valuable. In some cases, simply stating in public that you are supportive of the LGBTQ community, that you enjoy our art and our contributions to society, can be helpful. (Bonus points if you do so on a big platform.)

It’s just as important in private and intimate spaces as it is in public. Being a good ally means speaking up when a friend is misgendered by making the correction smoothly and moving on. Challenge people in your circle who speak out of ignorance about LGBTQ issues. You don’t have to be a lawyer; just say out loud that you’re on our side and that there are queer people in your life who are important to you. 

Spend some money

While you’re talking about that art, make sure you pay for it. Seek out queer theater, buy tickets for queer musical acts, and patronize gay-owned cafes and restaurants. Rainbow-washed capitalism makes Pride gear affordable and mainstream, but your dollar goes a lot further on a queer artist’s Etsy than it can at Target — not to mention you’ll have something no one else will. 

Go to Pride

Wearing your one-of-a-kind ally T-shirt and rainbow bracelet to a Pride-themed event is another great idea. If there are big plans for your city — a parade, a pub crawl, a series of queer author readings — seek out the parts that interest you most and show up with enthusiasm. There are lots of people who come to Pride to be the affirming parent that a queer person never had. Or, just go for the impeccable vibes and spirited dancing in the street. It’s a beautiful time of year to be outdoors with the colorful people — join us!

Be our guest

However, remember that as an ally, you’re a guest in the community. Listen more than you speak. Seek first to understand. Remember that not every space is designed for you, and queer folks sometimes want to be among their own more than they want to be seen. Lots of allies experience emotional moments at Pride related to their own oppression and sometimes to their own REpression, causing them to reevaluate the way they live in the world and how they feel about themselves. That’s cool too. But remember that this is not the space for your personal exploration, which you may want to do elsewhere with a trusted friend, a therapist, or your diary. Pride is a celebration of people being who they are, out in public and without shame. 

Be brave

Never forget that Pride is a month celebrating a movement that began as a riot. That riot ebbs and flows, but it has not come to an end. The best way to be an ally to a marginalized community is to become an accomplice. 

If you’re a healthcare provider, search for resources that can help you move beyond value-neutral care and into affirming care for your LGBTQ patients. 

If you’re a librarian, consider creating an “honor collection,” a small number of books on LGBTQ topics available to teens without a record of having been checked out to preserve their privacy as they figure themselves out. 

If you’re an educator or an administrator and challenges arise in your school regarding books or materials that preserve the dignity of LGBTQ individuals and families, consult resources on how to answer that challenge. 

If you’re a parent, have open conversations with your kids about the different ways that people love one another and form families and communities together based on that love. Many excellent books are available to help facilitate this conversation at all ages, and you may find that you learn something new yourself. 

Pride represents a lot of things to different people. It’s a time of celebration, of remembrance of those who came before us, and to continue the fierce fight to make a better world for those who come after us. Even for folks who are not members of the LGBTQ community, it’s a great time to appreciate the unique contributions of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people in your community and in our nation. 

Most of all, it’s a great time to remember that injustice and inequality done against any of us is a crime against us all. As queer and transgender Americans weather a difficult season of political opposition and societal vilification, we need our brave, vociferous, money-spending allies more than ever before. 

The post Celebrating Pride Month: How to Be a Good Ally to the LGBTQ Community appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.