September 2, 1885 A mob of white coal miners, led by the Knights of Labor, violently attacked their Chinese co-workers in Rock Springs, Wyoming, killing 28 and burning the homes of 75 Chinese families. The white miners wanted the Chinese barred from working in the mine. The mine owners and operators had brought in the Chinese ten years earlier to keep labor costs down and to suppress strikes.Chinese fleeing Rock Springs The unfortunate story and illustrations of the scene (scroll down)
September 2, 1945 Revolutionary leader Ho Chi Minh declared Vietnam a republic and independent from France (National Day). Half a million people gathered in the capital of Hanoi to hear him read the Vietnamese Declaration of Independence, which was modeled on the U.S. Declaration of Independence. note: Ho Chi Minh translates to ‘He Who Enlightens’ Read about how it was influenced by the U.S. Declaration
September 2, 1966 On what was supposed to be the first day of school in Grenada, Mississippi—and the first day in an integrated school for 450 Negro children—the school board postponed opening of school for 10 days because of “paperwork.” Nevertheless, the high school played its first football game that night. Some of the Negro kids who had registered for that school tried to attend the game but were beaten, and their car windows smashed.
September 2, 1969 Vietnamese revolutionary and national leader Nguyen Tat Thanh (aka Ho Chi Minh), 79, died of natural causes in Hanoi. Uncle Ho, Ho Chi Minh Ho and his struggle for Vietnamese independence
From David Beckham’s poreless skin to the tastes of Queer Eye’s original Fab Five, metrosexuality marked an essential step toward a more open masculinity.
(This came from a magazine Janet linked a few days ago. I’m sitting and reading around in it today, and this struck me, especially in light of certain dark comments made over the past few years by the Republican VP nom. So I’m posting for juju. Or mojo. Mostly humorous spite, on my part. NVM me and enjoy the story.)
2004 Was So Gay is Them’s look back at a pivotal year for queer history and pop culture. Read more from the series here.
“Precise, smooth, and powerful:” the sexual energy rippling through Gillette’s 2004 ad campaign nearly leaps from the page — not because razors were suddenly sexy, but because its star, David Beckham, was known at the time as “the biggest metrosexual in Britain.” With a freshly shaved head, glistening muscles, and a green-tipped razor in hand, the image cemented what the world already knew, by way of a £40 million global ad campaign. This British soccer star — this man who wore pink nail polish and, occasionally, his wife’s panties — was seen as the peak of masculinity that year, and nobody else came close. As Gillette’s tagline went, Beckham was “the best a man can get.”
Beckham may have been the gold standard for The Metrosexual, a “type” of man that entered the popular consciousness in the mid-2000s, but really the inspiration for the movement looked more like Stefon from Saturday Night Live. The character, played by Bill Hader, stopped by Weekend Update with highlights in his side-swept hair and Ed Hardy’s rhinestone regalia covering his body to let viewers in on the hottest new spots in nightlife. Stefon’s outfits were modeled after 2000s nightlife looks, a fitting visual metaphor for the chaotic, homoerotic overtones of the early 2000s.
Much like the fictitious clubs Stefon gushed over, metrosexuality had everything. There were the menswear bibles you had to subscribe to (Details, Esquire, and GQ); must-have fashion labels (from Paul Smith and Hugo Boss to Dolce & Gabbana); and, of course, grooming brands like Axe body spray, which launched in the U.S. in 2002. On TV, the metrosexual movement was dominated by the likes of Queer Eye’s “Fab Five,” who burst into straight men’s homes like a glitterati SWAT team, and by Stacy London and Clinton Kelly on What Not to Wear, the more composed (but equally bitchy) spiritual sister in the makeover reality show genre.
Men had been Yassified, remade in His image; “His” being, if it weren’t clear by now, a fashion-conscious, grooming-obsessed gay man. Yes, the homoerotic undertones of metrosexuality weren’t exactly subtle, but it was the 2000s, damnit, and men were allowed to be a little fruity and high maintenance as a treat. For those caught in the metrosexualmania, the fad might’ve felt like a flash of lightning: suddenly there, lighting up every follicle and pore. Google search results for the phrase exploded from 25,000 in mid-2002 to nearly a million by the end of 2005. But the term had roots far beyond its early 2000s heyday, first entering the cultural lexicon via the self-proclaimed “daddy” of metrosexuality, Mark Simpson, and his seminal 1994 essay, “Here Come the Mirror Men: Why the Future is Metrosexual.”
Written as a taxonomy on fascinating, capitalist animals who’d just discovered oil-free moisturizer and form-fitting pants, Simpson’s essay announced the arrival of the “[m]etrosexual man, the single young man with a high disposable income, living or working in the city (because that’s where all the best shops are), is perhaps the most promising consumer market of the decade […] he’s everywhere, and he’s going shopping.” Or put more succinctly: “Metrosexual man is a commodity fetishist: a collector of fantasies about the male sold to him by advertising.”
The notion that you should spend more time and money on clothes, grooming, and fitness wasn’t exactly reinventing the wheel. What made metrosexuality unique wasn’t its deep roots in capitalism, but rather its flirtation with queering masculinity in a way that felt fundamentally new. This was a tectonic vibe shift that democratized desire, cracking open the door for straight men to edge into femininity. Metrosexuality’s origin was also fundamentally shaped by the HIV pandemic, which spawned its own obsession with self-image. LGBTQ+ people — and particularly gay men — idolized gym-hardened bodies and obsessed over looking affluent and “healthy.”
The rise of the “metrosexual” may have been a straight thing, but the through lines of these two movements ran concurrently, separated more by who you wanted to sleep with and less by what designer brand you went shopping for. We may feel trapped today in a timeline that’s more metro than ever, but the newness and, frankly, the edginess of metrosexuality 20 years ago was historic — especially as it grew from that tiny 1994-era seedling into a blossoming flower.
Like Simpson’s read of heterosexuality in 90s menswear magazines being “so self-conscious, so studied, that it’s actually rather camp,” it was the self-serious, studied, and camp character of Patrick Bateman in 2000’s American Psycho that finally put the nail in the coffin of the 1990s’ dominant, grungy aesthetic. The film about full-time Wall Street hotshot and part-time murderer, played perfectly by a svelte and smug Christian Bale, rewrote the codes of the New Man for a new decade within its first 10 minutes. In an opening monologue that feels created in a lab for future metrosexuals to studiously replicate, Bateman walks through a morning routine that includes ice-pack facials, a thousand stomach crunches, deep pore cleanser lotion, water-activated gel cleanser, honey almond body scrub, exfoliating gel scrub, herb-mint facial masque (leave on for 10 minutes), moisturizer, anti-aging eye balm, and aftershave lotion with no alcohol (“because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older.”) By the time the film shows him studying himself in a mirror, flexing his muscles as he mindlessly fucks a woman, the codes of this new kind of man were crystallized.
By 2004, “metrosexual” had been crowned “Word of the Year” by the American Dialect Society. Naturally, culture was flooded with glistening bodies, clouds of cologne, hardened hair gel, and at least five pairs of queer eyes regularly dissecting and rebuilding straight guys. These habits and inclinations toward presenting health and wealth have hardened with the passing of time, like a particularly sculpted torso. To put this in more Shakespearean terms: Metrosexuality by any other name (say, a looksmaxxing alpha male, or muscle gay) smells just as strongly of whatever scent we’re being marketed that day. Just like in 2004, turn on the TV or open a fashion publication’s homepage, and you’ll be knocked on your ass by capitalism’s consumptive frenzy; the major difference now is the somehow more relentless push to sculpt, shop and spend, driven into hyperdrive by our social media feeds. No matter if you’re gay, straight, femme, or them, we’re bombarded by messaging that tells us to work out, dress better, and start an 84-step skincare routine. My algorithm seems to hit me with a barrage of perfectly toned, sexually ambiguous guys every time I doomscroll.
It doesn’t take an armchair anthropologist to tell you that every trend, no matter how culturally ingrained it seems, will fade out over time. See “demure,”“Brat,” and whatever microtrend TikTok’s algorithms push today. As culture shifted and economics crashed, so did the desire to spend exorbitantly on grooming. The word “metrosexual” now feels as dated as Carson Kressley and the other original Fab Five members I simply cannot remember, but its cultural impact has lived on; every subsequent movement owes a debt to the metrosexual — from hipsters and their gallons of beard oil all the way to streetwear bros with sneaker collections rivaling even Carrie Bradshaw.
Metrosexuality’s chokehold on the 2000s taught men to be more comfortable in their femininity, but in the 20 years that have passed, our cultural understanding of manhood has splintered. There is the darker side, filtering metrosexuality’s obsessive grooming into a toxic, warped worldview dominated by obsessively coiffed, overly buff, and deeply insecure influencers. This is the side where young men are breaking their legs to be taller and smashing their jaws to be more “alpha.”
But luckily, it’s not all broken bones and toxic trauma. There’s a more healthy, nuanced exploration of modern masculinity that leans into the queerer side of our metrosexual forefathers. One that has allowed rockstars like Harry Styles to grace magazine covers in womenswear, release a gender-neutral beauty brand (Pleasing), and say, “I think there’s so much masculinity in being vulnerable and allowing yourself to be feminine” in a 2018 interview with fellow softboy Timothée Chalamet. You can see it during a night out as you spot straight men with painted nails and crop tops dancing with their girlfriends. You can see it in the celebrity role models of Steve Lacy, Paul Mescal, and Josh O’Connor — the latter helping launch both the “rat boy” and “fruity boy” micro-trends. This particular flavor of New Man is united in an embrace of and comfort with the duality of their feminine and masculine sides — and, notably, not separated by sexuality. Omar Apollo, Steve Lacy, Frank Ocean, and Tyler, the Creator meld effortlessly with the likes of Jaden Smith and the airbrushed perfection of K-pop supergroup BTS.
It has been thirty years since the “metrosexual” emerged and twenty years since its cultural reign. As we continue to navigate this modern era, redefining what it means to be a man, we’d do well to remember just how many boundaries metrosexuality broke down. Sure, it may be responsible for the poisonous clouds of Axe body spray we endured and ushered in a new era of hyper-commodification, but it also brought newfound sexual confidence and liberation to masculinity that taught us that it’s okay to be a little gay. Had it not been for our metrosexual forefathers (and the queers that guided them), who knows what rigid sartorial hellscape we’d all be living in today.
In Kansas, lawyers for the American Civil Liberties Union have drafted a letter reminding election workers that a gender marker on a person’s identification does not need to match or correspond to a voter’s gender expression. Staff for the organization have also held clinics elsewhere to prepare trans Americans for the identification requirements they will have to navigate.
In eight battleground states, the nonprofit VoteRiders is on the ground helping voters get the identification they need to cast ballots in the November election — and one that reflects who they are.
Equality Florida, the state’s leading LGBTQ+ advocacy group, is holding “know your rights” trainings in the wake of new regulations barring many transgender voters from obtaining photo identification that reflects their gender.
As Republican politicians push anti-transgender rhetoric ahead of a historic election, transgender and nonbinary Americans are facing new laws and rules that effectively prohibit them and others from obtaining documentation like birth certificates and driver’s licenses that align with their gender identities.
Advocates are fighting back. They’ve been mobilizing communities and organizing resources to help transgender Americans, an effort aimed at safeguarding their civic rights. Some trans voters have expressed confusion and fear of discrimination at the ballot box that could discourage them from participating in public life.
“There is a chilling effect,” said Lauren Kunis, CEO and executive director of VoteRiders, which helps voters obtain identification. “There is an unsafe and intimidating environment around existing as trans in society, and definitely in being able to go to the polls safely and cast a ballot.”
The ripple effect could extend beyond trans people, these advocates warn. Regulations around gender impact cisgender people, particularly women and women of color. America’s decentralized elections system relies on a temporary workforce tasked with enforcing varying policies around identification rules. In states that require voters to “reasonably resemble” the picture on their ID, like North Carolina and Wisconsin, the results could ensnare anyone at the ballot box who doesn’t fit the binary concept of masculinity and femininity traits.
“A lot is falling on poll workers to correctly enforce the law,” Kunis added. “And I would argue that is less of a solid protection in states where anti-trans rhetoric is skyrocketing.”
The measures often focus on sex classification that narrowly defines an individual’s sex as either male or female at birth. They’re among a broad scope of anti-trans legislation that have popped up in Republican-led statehouses in recent years and served as breeding ground for the binary vision of the country embraced by former President Donald Trump and U.S. Sen. JD Vance, his running mate on the Republican ticket. At least nine states in the past two years have explicitly regulated gender in this way, according to a tally by the Movement Advancement Project (MAP), which tracks LGBTQ+ policy.
Anti-transgender rhetoric was front and center at the Republican National Convention in July, and Trump has taken to verbally targeting transgender people in his campaign. He described Democratic vice presidential nominee Tim Walz recently as “very heavy into the transgender world.”
The verbal attacks are against a group that is highly invested in electoral politics. An analysis released in August of respondents to the 2022 U.S. Transgender Survey, widely seen as the most comprehensive study of binary and nonbinary transgender Americans, found that voting-eligible trans people had cast ballots in the last presidential election at a higher rate than the U.S. population. The study included more than 92,000 respondents, including more than 84,000 adults who were 18 and older.
“Trans votes count,” said Ankit Rastogi, director of research for the National Center for Transgender Equality, which conducted the survey and will soon be known as Advocates for Trans Equality Education Fund. “I think the big takeaway is that our community is really trying to come out and make a difference through the democratic process.”
The new laws and rules around sex classification vary widely. Those that intentionally target government identification that people use in everyday life, like driver’s licenses, are particularly challenging. Forcing a person to show identification that does not align with their gender identity could out them to people in their community, as Lucas Cameron-Vaughn, an attorney for the ACLU of Tennessee, explained.
“Trans people, just like everyone else, want to be able to travel, start new jobs, open bank accounts, enroll in school, vote — all of those things require some form of ID. And so when a state goes out of its way to enforce its message about its belief about sex and gender on a license, and transgender people then have to publicize that when they show other people, it creates a dangerous environment,” he said.
Last year, Tennessee Gov. Bill Lee, a Republican, signed a bill into law that defines sex as “determined by anatomy and genetics existing at the time of birth.” The state’s Department of Safety and Homeland Security then created a rule banning transgender people from changing gender markers on their driver’s licenses. The ACLU sued the agency for discrimination, claiming the rule was adopted illegally because it didn’t follow proper administrative procedure.
“It’s a tactic that’s designed to splinter support for trans rights and suggest sort of who is harmed by protecting trans people — to frame that as cisgender women being the people harmed by protections for trans people,” said Rose Saxe, who is deputy project director for the ACLU’s LGBT & HIV Project.
Nearly 21 million voting-eligible U.S. citizens do not have a current driver’s license, according to the Center for Democracy and Civic Engagement at the University of Maryland, whose research was partially supported by VoteRiders. Black and Hispanic people are among those most likely not to have a current license, so the requirement harms them too, regardless of their gender identity.
In the 2024 election, 38 states will require voters to show some form of identification at the polls, including 17 states that have new or stricter ID laws passed since 2020.
The full impact of these laws amid new and evolving voter identification laws is not yet clear, in part because of how recent they are — and that, experts say, could mask their harm. The Williams Institute at the University of California, Los Angeles School of Law, estimated ahead of the 2022 midterm election that more than 200,000 voting-eligible transgender Americans may find it difficult to vote at the time because of voter ID laws.
But these don’t just affect transgender people. In many red states, Republican-led attacks on transgender people are going hand-in-hand with new identification requirements and other laws that pose barriers to the ballot that reach beyond gender lines.
“The states with the anti-trans laws are also the ones that are more likely to be passing anti-voter laws, full stop,” Kunis said.
In Florida, which has emerged as a national epicenter of policies targeting LGBTQ+ people in recent years, the state’s Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles issued a new regulation barring residents from updating their gender identity on their drivers’ license.
To Quinn Diaz, a public policy associate at advocacy group Equality Florida, the failure of most anti-LGBTQ+ bills introduced in this year’s legislative session showed that the tide in Florida is turning. But the new gender marker regulation signals yet another way that state agencies in Florida have overstepped their bounds and been “weaponized” to target transgender Floridians, they argued.
“We saw it as a move to inflict maximum chaos and misunderstanding,” Diaz said. “And really to scare trans folks from even participating and getting the license if they needed to update it.”
For transgender people, lacking identification that reflects their gender identity and appearance can make them vulnerable to discrimination in everyday situations at a bar or liquor store, for example, and in interactions with law enforcement and at the polls.
“With these laws in Florida, you’re forced to choose between living authentically and just not really participating in public life,” Diaz said.
Diaz, who is transgender, moved to Florida from Massachusetts, where they had an “X” gender marker on their driver’s license. Because they didn’t have all the necessary documentation and weren’t established yet with a local provider when they transferred their license to Florida, they forfeited that marker and defaulted to a license with their sex assigned at birth.
Diaz said they didn’t have any problems voting in person in the 2022 midterms, but they plan to vote by mail this November.
“I can imagine that a lot of trans folks in Florida who might not have access … to an accurate and affirming ID might not want to engage in that process at all, especially in such a heightened political environment,” Diaz said.
Such rhetoric could also be most dangerous in states where far-right groups are trying to recruit poll watchers. Since 2020, many Republican-controlled states have passed laws expanding the authority of those temporary election observers who work elections under certain rules and may feel compelled to stop someone from voting under the guise of stopping widespread election fraud, which has been repeatedly debunked.
“Gender nonconforming people are already under such public scrutiny nationwide,” Diaz said. “That’s when you’re gonna see the convergence of those two elements. It really seems like it would only result in more discrimination, more discomfort for trans people, more interrogation and potentially just being turned away.”
Hazel Krebs, a 42-year-old transgender woman living in Kansas, one of the states with a new anti-trans law, felt the weight of that increased scrutiny as she cast her ballot in March. Krebs wondered whether her identification — one that for weeks no longer reflected her gender identity — might impact her ability to vote.
She chatted with the election workers in the mostly empty precinct, then showed her ID. She did her homework, learned that gender is not required information to vote and showed up ready to explain it.
But no one questioned her. Krebs voted and was out of the polling site within minutes. Still, she worries that, under the same circumstances, another trans person might have stayed home.
“They won’t stop me, but I can see how it would stop others,” she said. “It is almost certainly stopping some people from showing up at the polls.”
The ACLU, which is tracking some of these laws and rules, has tried to prepare election workers on how to process trans voters who come into their polling sites. VoteRiders is conducting year-round voter education. While the driver’s license is the most ubiquitous form of identification in the United States’ car-centric society, Kunis wants to dispel the “common misconception” that it’s the only form of ID people can use to vote.
Trans voters can obtain a U.S. passport or passport card that reflects their gender identity without needing to provide underlying documentation. However, that option may not be accessible to people who struggle to pay the related fees or may not have the time or knowledge required to fill out the forms and request the passport.
It’s also a temporary solution if a future presidential administration rescinds the ability for people to self-attest their gender on their passports. Some advocacy groups and lawmakers in Florida also argue the state’s new regulations conflict with the federal Real ID Act, but that question is unlikely to be resolved before November.
In addition to using passports as identification, Diaz said that Florida voters have the option to vote by mail, vote early in person and bring a friend or family member to the polls.
“Our ability to participate in this democracy in Florida, it’s been on the line for a while,” Diaz said. Transgender people, they said, are being “forced to choose between participating in our greatest civic right or just sitting out because the state doesn’t see us for who we are.”
It’s still unclear how many trans people will be denied affirming identification — and how many will choose not to vote — as a result of these new regulations. Several of the new laws are written with no clear penalties.
“Something that’s very frustrating for us at VoteRiders is you will never be able to capture the number of people who do not feel safe voting, and who therefore stay home. And you also won’t be able to capture the people who are trans and show up to try and vote and are turned away.” Kunis said. “And we know that is happening, but it is difficult to quantify.”
Cameron-Vaughn said he also worries about a scenario where a trans person is stopped at a polling place because of mismatching information on their identification and must fill out a provisional ballot — a voting option that often requires a person to return at a later date with more documentation to ensure their vote is counted.
“There are definitely the physical dangers, the dangers for harassment, discrimination — but also ultimately, voter suppression,” he said.
Josie Caballero, director of voting and elections for the group that conducted the 2022 U.S. Transgender Survey, said it’s important to remember that barriers to voting existed for trans people before the latest slate of laws and rules targeting sex classification, particularly around voter ID rules. Trans people turned out to vote despite those policy roadblocks.
“It really shows the resiliency of the trans community to ensure that our voices are heard and we have visibility at the ballot box,” she said.
Krebs, who plans to vote in November, is worried about how the dynamics of a crowded polling site might impact her ability to vote. But she is determined to access the ballot, and to stay in Kansas despite the heightened scrutiny.
“There’s nothing these laws will do to stop me from living my best life,” she said. “It just puts my energy and passion towards making this place better for me and other trans people.”
I think this fits in as information relating to marginalized people. It is from a magazine that is religious, but it’s not pushy; I think everyone can read this article without feeling proselytized. It struck me as important, and overlooked. -A
That danger is amplified for the thousands of girls living in makeshift camps and tent cities along the U.S.-Mexico border without protection or accompanying support. According to the Washington, D.C.-based Kids In Need of Defense, “[u]naccompanied children are especially vulnerable to sexual violence, human trafficking, and exploitation by cartels and other criminal groups.”
Over the last few years, a group of Muslim women has stepped in to meet their needs in unique ways. Albergue Assabil (“the Shelter of the Path”), the first Muslim shelter along the U.S.-Mexico border, has been in operation since June 2022 under the leadership of Sonia Tinoco García, founder and president of the Latina Muslim Foundation. According to staff, the shelter served nearly 3,000 migrants in its first two years of operation. Many of those migrants have been women, attracted to the shelter because of its separate men’s and women’s facilities and the fact that Albergue Assabil is a female-led shelter.
And it’s not only Muslim women finding sanctuary under the shade of the shelter’s blue dome; there have also been other female immigrants looking to García and her team for assistance as they make the perilous journey north.
“A group of Muslim ladies”
When García first headed to the U.S.-Mexico border to help others in 2014, her goal was simple: to help women, especially mothers and unaccompanied children, in their attempts to claim asylum or start a new life in the United States. Having immigrated to the U.S. herself in the 1990s, García knew what it was like.
She also knew the statistics.
Though the share has fluctuated in recent decades, immigrant women and girls make up at least half of all migrants and asylum seekers, according to figures from the Migration Policy Institute. Women and girls made up a total of 53 percent of the immigrant population in 1980, 51 percent in 1990, 50 percent in 2000, and 51 percent in 2010 and 2022.
Given the scale, García gathered what she called “a group of Muslim ladies” from her mosque community in San Diego. Each had a profound understanding of the situation female immigrants were facing.
Angie Gely, who works in the office at Albergue Assabil, said being an immigrant who was deported back to Mexico and is now living in Tijuana, helps her understand what women in the shelter are going through — and what they face once they arrive in the U.S.
“Our families crossed the border to the U.S. too,” Gely said. “We can relate.”
Driven by their own past experiences and a deep desire to help female immigrants, García said she and other Muslim women started volunteering in Tijuana shelters, bringing food and clothing for people regardless of their religious, social, and cultural background.
Along the way, García and her “Muslim ladies” started noticing how many Muslims were mixed in with the larger population of immigrants and deportees. “It got my attention when I saw some women standing at the border with hijab,” García said. “I talked to them and discovered they were from Somalia, trying to go to the U.S. or Canada.”
The more time she spent in Tijuana, the more Muslims she saw arriving. At shelter after shelter, meanwhile, she witnessed staff too overwhelmed to cater to Muslim migrants’ unique needs.
“There were Muslims who didn’t feel safe in the shelters, because they were being discriminated against or questioned because of their faith,” Gely said. As a result, some would avoid the shelters altogether, struggling to find their own way on the streets or seeking help from Muslims at Centro Islámico de Baja — Tijuana’s only mosque at the time.
“The shelters didn’t have the time or money,” García said, “to provide halal food, to provide adequate space for prayer, or even understand their situations are different from those of migrants from Central America or elsewhere.”
Sonia Tinoco García, pictured, founded Albergue Assabil in 2022, with help of other Muslim women from San Diego, Calif., and Tijuana, Mexico. Ken Chitwood/Sojourners.
García and the others did what they could to serve the immigrants sent their way — covering the cost of hotel rooms, providing home-cooked halal meals, or connecting them to the legal aid they so desperately needed, in a language they could communicate in. Overwhelmed, they turned to their mosque communities in San Diego and Orange counties to raise funds and procure translators who could speak Arabic or Urdu, Farsi or French, and many dialects in between.
But the need continued to increase. More and more Muslim immigrants were making their way to Tijuana, and the “ladies” could only do so much. Shelters were overwhelmed, and García said she was scrambling to field the many calls.
That’s why, in 2017, they decided to do more. Founding a nonprofit organization — the Latina Muslim Foundation — they raised more than $200,000 (USD) to construct a purpose-built Muslim shelter. Situated in the border city’s Zona Norte neighborhood, the shelter features separate men’s and women’s facilities, a prayer area, halal food, Quran classes, and legal services to assist migrants.
The hope, García said, was to provide a humane and helpful place for Muslim migrants to land in Tijuana. They are there to help transform the border from a topography of inhumanity into a place of dignity and opportunity, García said.
A growing number of Mexican Muslim women
García said that as a child, she always dreamed of helping people. “I wanted to become a surgeon, but do surgery for free, because people need it to save their lives,” García said. “Or an attorney who did pro bono work, to help families who don’t have justice.”
García grew up in a large family in a village of 200 people near La Paz, in the very south of the Baja California peninsula. She did not know whether such dreams would — or could — come true. “We had a simple lifestyle. We were not rich people,” she said. “Because we were 11 siblings, not everyone got education.”
García was one of the lucky ones able to finish high school. She moved to Ensenada — an hour and a half south of Tijuana — and started working with a local orthodontist serving medical tourists from the U.S. When she was 21, she met a man named Abu Hamza, a medical tourist from Lebanon living in Los Angeles. Abu Hamza spoke no Spanish at the time, and she did not speak English, but they communicated with books and through other people. Twenty days after meeting, they were married.
García had grown up Catholic and knew little of Islam. But when she saw Abu Hamza, she said, “I saw Islam in him.” After moving to the Los Angeles area with Abu Hamza, she learned English and Islam at the same time.
García joined the growing ranks of Latina converts to Islam. The first Latina and Latino converts can be identified as far back as the 1920s; others converted in the 1960s and ’70s as part of Black Muslim movements such as the Nation of Islam and the Five Percent Nation. In 2011, 6 percent of Muslim Americans identified as Hispanic, according to the Pew Research Center; by 2017, it was 8 percent. The vast majority of this cohort of Hispanic American Muslims are women, many of them from Mexico or having Mexican heritage.
Muslims remain a small minority in Mexico, said Arely Medina, a professor at the University of Guadalajara. There are multiple small groups and communities made up of both migrants and individuals native to Mexico in the country’s interior, all of which have a relatively recent history, Medina said. “Thus, one cannot speak of a ‘Mexican Islam’ per se,” she said, “even though Muslims have a history here stretching back to the conquest of the Americas and continuing with a series of Arab immigrations in the 19th and 20th centuries.”
Migrants from numerous nations gather for Friday prayers inside the Albergue Assabil’s musallah, or prayer room. Ken Chitwood/Sojourners
According to Medina and other experts, most Mexican converts to Islam are women. Among them are sizable numbers of female Muslim immigrants from places such as Egypt, Morocco, Syria, Pakistan, Ghana, and Turkey who have made Mexico home. “Some hope to reach the United States and are concentrated along the northern border,” Medina said. “Others concentrate in places like Mexico City, Guadalajara, or Monterrey.”
It is difficult, if not impossible, to generalize these women’s motivations, plans, or situations, Medina said. As is true of those staying at Albergue Assabil, “There is not a single story,” she said. “Each one carries a narrative.”
Because these women face a variety of challenges — such as wearing the veil in a cultural context where Islam is not a prominent reference point or searching for a sense of freedom and security in the face of domestic violence and harassment — Medina said they find in each other a sense of solidarity. “They are in search of a better life,” she said. As Europe, the United Kingdom, and even the U.S. are experienced as less welcoming, Medina said, “Latin America is now seen as a place of possible openness.”
Empowered to help others
Whether local converts or newcomers from elsewhere, Muslim women have carved out their own spaces in Mexico, including the Albergue Assabil shelter and the Nur Ashki Jerrahi Sufi order in Mexico City, which is headed by a woman — Shaykha Amina Teslima.
García often reminds donors, partners, volunteers, journalists, and authorities that Albergue Assabil is a shelter run by women. And not just any women, but Muslim women.
That, she said, makes a difference.
“We found that Islam gives women rights; it gave us empowerment,” she said of her and the other women running the show at Albergue Assabil. “I could do whatever I wanted to do — more than what I could do with my own culture or my own religion before,” she said. “Islam says that women can go study; men cannot tell you no. Men know this. My husband knows he doesn’t own me. He is my support.”
Indeed, her husband, Abu Hamza, is supportive of García’s work. He is often seen around the shelter too, pulling up on a motorcycle with García, bringing in donations, making phone calls, and generally doing whatever needs to be done. When asked about the shelter, he insistently points to his wife. “She knows better than me,” he said.
García said part of the shelter’s work is passing their own empowerment on to women who arrive at their gates. “In the shelter, when women come, we give them tools to be able to continue their education: English, Spanish, computers, cooking,” she said. “We want to give them the basics so that they are not reliant on men. In the time they stay in the shelter, we teach them as much as we can so that they can live for themselves.”
Increasingly, said Gely, that means more and more women are finding their way to Albergue Assabil — Muslim and non-Muslim. “Just yesterday, three ladies from Russia came here looking for shelter,” Gely said. “They’re not Muslim, no. But they hear how nice it is and want to come. Of course we take them in.”
One of them is Amie. Amie has struggled getting an appointment through the U.S. Customs and Border Protection app CBP One. She has spent three months in Mexico so far, arriving at Albergue Assabil six weeks after bouncing from shelter to shelter in Tijuana. Sojourners is withholding Amie’s last name, at her request, to protect her immigration status.
“They’ve been so kind to me,” she said, “out on the street, in other shelters, I feared for my life, worried I would be tortured, abused, or killed. This shelter is the only place I feel I could survive.”
As we talk, two more young Russian women walk through the front doors. They too are looking for shelter. Amie tells them to take a seat. Gely or García will be here soon, she says.
“They’ll take care of you,” Amie said. “They always do.”
A few months ago, Substack generously invited thirty or so of their writers to NYC for the opportunity to create some ads for our blogs. I really didn’t know what to expect, but the experience itself with Cash Studios (cashstudios.co) was delightful.
For about an hour, I worked with the staff in their studio on various ideas they had, all of which I found interesting. Moreover, I was quite impressed with their creativity and professionalism. They were kind, curious about my work, and really wanted to bring out my authenticity.
A few days ago, the ads were sent out to all of us, and I was quite blown away by the care and thoughtfulness put into creating them. I feel that Cash Studios did an exceptional job in capturing what I try to do with Charlotte’s Web Thoughts, and I’m thankful to the folks at Substack for this level of investment in my work.
They cut four ads, and I want to share them with all my subscribers, with a humble request: if you have friends, family, colleagues, or whomever you think might connect with my writing, send them one of these ads. Tell them that it’s free to subscribe to the blog, that all they need is an email, and that I don’t spam.
After a court ruling from the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals allowed an anti-trans law in Florida targeting youth and adults go back into effect, many providers were forced to end care. Read on Substack
*With thanks to Janet.*
Several transgender youth and adults are being told their care will be terminated following a ruling from the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals by a majority-Trump appointed panel. The court ruled that a 2023 law, which restricts transgender care at any age, can go back into effect after being permanently blocked in June 2024.
The ruling, released late Monday, stated that transgender people are not a “quasi-suspect class,” meaning they do not receive the same level of equal protection under the Constitution as other categories such as race, ethnicity, religion, or sex. This decision implies that laws discriminating against transgender people are likely to be considered valid and constitutional by the 11th Circuit Court.
One such law, SB254, was passed in 2023. The law banned gender-affirming care for transgender youth but went further than similar legislation passed in several Republican-led states that year by also restricting care for transgender adults. The bill mandated that care for transgender adults could only be provided by physicians and required that patients receive forms outlining the “risks” of gender transition. Many proposed versions of these forms are filled with disinformation about transgender care.
The physician requirement has proven especially burdensome for transgender adults, as the majority of their care is provided by nurse practitioners. This is because the number of transgender adults far exceeds the capacity of physicians who offer gender-affirming care. Planned Parenthood, the largest hormone therapy provider in the United States, explains, “Most gender-affirming hormone care is provided at PPSP by advanced practice providers (physician assistants, certified nurse midwives, and nurse practitioners) in our health centers or over telemedicine.”
Now, with the law fully in effect, transgender adults who previously had access to care are being notified that their care will no longer be provided.
One anonymous patient shared an email from their provider, QueerMed, which stated, “Unfortunately, Florida has reinstated the ban on care for minors and the restrictions for adults… We can no longer see any patient of any age who is located in Florida.”
See that email here:
Email provided from a QueerMed Patient
Spektrum, a major provider in Florida, was also forced to terminate care and cancel new patient appointments. However, during the period when the law was blocked, the organization reportedly took steps to ensure patients were well-supplied with medication in case the law went back into effect:
“During this little freedom period as I call it … we made good use of that time to make sure all of our patients were well supplied with medication. Although I had hoped that it wouldn’t have been necessary, at least now we can say, I’m glad we did all the things that we did,” said Joseph Knoll, a nurse practitioner at the clinic, as reported by the Associated Press.
Healthcare bans are currently a contentious issue in courts across the United States, with some courts blocking bans on transgender healthcare coverage or provision. A major point of contention is whether discrimination against transgender people qualifies as sex discrimination, which would subject these laws to higher scrutiny regarding their constitutionality.
The Supreme Court is poised to rule on such questions later this year in a case stemming from Tennessee’s trans care ban. If the Supreme Court were to rule that transgender people are not entitled to equal protection under the law, many forms of discrimination against transgender youth and adults could be deemed fully legal.
For trans people in Florida, many cannot afford to wait for such a decision, and many have already fled the state. For those unable to leave, disruptions to their care will likely have significant impacts on their mental and physical health.
“We are deeply disappointed by this decision and the panel’s disregard for the district court’s careful findings and adherence to the Eleventh Circuit’s recent precedent. Allowing these discriminatory restrictions to go back into effect will deny transgender adults and adolescents lifesaving care, and prevent Florida parents from making medical decisions that are right for their children. As the district court found based on voluminous evidence, the record shows that these extraordinary restrictions were based on disapproval of transgender people and serve no purpose other than to harm transgender Floridians. The plaintiffs in this case are considering their options and will take every step possible to protect their right to equal treatment under Florida’s laws, which these restrictions egregiously violate. We will continue fighting for transgender Floridians and their families, and for everyone’s right to make healthcare decisions without government interference,” said the organizations representing the plaintiffs in the case.
August 28, 1833 The Abolition of Slavery Act was passed by the British Parliament. As early as 1787, members of the Society of Friends (Quakers), particularly Thomas Clarkson and Granville Sharp, organized to end the slave trade.Since Quakers were barred from serving in the House of Commons, the cause was led by a member of the Evangelical Party, William Wilberforce, ending the international trade in slaves in 1807. By 1827 slaving was considered piracy and punishable by death. The complete ban on slavery itself through the British Empire didn’t happen until this day; Wilberforce was informed of the Act’s passage on his death-bed. William Wilberforce
August 28, 1963 Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to a crowd of half a million gathered on the Mall in Washington, D.C. They gathered there for jobs and freedom. The speech: https://www.npr.org/2010/01/18/122701268/i-have-a-dream-speech-in-its-entirety
1983: Three hundred thousand marched in Washington on the 20th anniversary of MLK’s “I Have A Dream” speech for the second “March on Washington for Jobs, Peace and Freedom.”
August 28, 1976 60,000 joined the Community of Peace People demonstrations in Belfast and Dublin, Ireland. Peace People was founded by two women, Betty Williams and Mairead Corrigan to decry the painful violence between Catholics and Protestants, between unionists and republicans, and to move the peace process forward in Northern Ireland. Betty Williams Mairead Corrigan They jointly won the Nobel Peace Prize for 1976. More about Betty Williams and Mairead Corrigan From the Declaration of the Peace People: “ . . . We want to live and love and build a just and peaceful society. We want for our children, as we want for ourselves, our lives at home, at work and at play, to be lives of joy and peace. We recognize that to build such a life demands of all of us, dedication, hard work and courage . . . We dedicate ourselves to working with our neighbors, near and far, day in and day out, to building that peaceful society in which the tragedies we have known are a bad memory and a continuing warning.” The Peace People’s website: https://www.peacepeople.com/
Gunner Scott had a simple solution to making sure he had a trans-friendly bathroom when he served as a juror in Boston: Every day at lunch he left the building.
The year was 2009 and the Suffolk County Superior Court where Scott served as a juror for five days didn’t have a gender-neutral restroom. So, on his break, Scott walked up the street to his office.
“I heard one too many stories,” said Scott, who is a longtime transgender advocate.
The stories were about trans people being assaulted and harassed in bathrooms. Scott was not confident he could pass as male in a men’s room in 2009. More than that, his activism had made him a known public figure in the city. He feared someone would recognize him and target him for being trans and using a men’s restroom.
But over the years, as states have started to block trans people from using bathrooms and participating in other areas of public life, courtrooms have moved in the opposite direction by trying to make facilities available to people of all genders, experts say.
That movement is not only key to providing a roadmap for inclusivity for the nation. It also ensures that juries reflect the general population and that everyone gets the opportunity — or burden, in some cases — of serving on them.
Courtrooms may illustrate practical solutions to access as the nation grapples with increasing trans visibility and more traditional ideas about the safety and comfort of a larger public.
The issue of transgender accessibility in courts is a chapter in a longstanding fight for civil rights for LGBTQ+ Americans, prime targets of far-right legislation and discourse these days. The Equality Act, which bars discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity, was first introduced to Congress 50 years ago but has never been passed into law. While its first draft only protected gay Americans, subsequent iterations have aimed to shield trans Americans from bias.
The Equality Act specifically mentions jury selection. The bill bans lawyers from striking queer jurors because they are LGBTQ+. Last year, Sen. Jeanne Shaheen of New Hampshire introduced a standalone bill to the same effect. Reps. Becca Balint of Vermont and Lizzie Fletcher of Texas are sponsoring the measure in the House, where it is unlikely to pass, at least while Republicans are the majority.
Balint told The 19th that courtroom accessibility is key to ensuring that jury pools reflect the makeup of the country.
“We need every American who is eligible to serve on a jury to be in the jury pool,” Balint said. “Conversations change concerning LGBTQ people when LGBTQ people are in the room, and when you exclude people from the judicial process, it makes the system inherently less free and less fair.”
Jury service and the belief that jurors should reflect the nation’s diversity is a closely held American belief today. Historically, though, juries were defined by their exclusivity. For centuries, women were banned or discouraged from jury duty because they were believed to be too fragile to handle criminal trials or deemed “the center of home and family life,” as stated in a 1961 Supreme Court ruling. Fourteen years later, the court ruled in Taylor v. Louisiana that systematically excluding them violated a defendant’s rights to a representative jury. But it wasn’t until 1994 that a decision around the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment specifically prohibited using gender to strike potential jurors.
Black Americans were barred from service due to slavery and after its abolition, discrimination. Even after the Civil Rights Act of 1875, which prohibited race-based jury selection, many states failed to enforce anti-discrimination protections, leading to lopsided convictions against people of color, a legacy that continues.
In legally recognizing trans people, states have faced increasing pressure to make government facilities accessible to them. In 2015, then-Boston Mayor Marty Walsh made headlines when he signed an executive order requiring gender-neutral bathrooms at City Hall.
Many courthouses have also installed gender-neutral options or found workarounds that allow trans and nonbinary people to safely use the court, say experts. The difference is that the change has largely gone unnoticed.
Ezra Young, a constitutional scholar and professor in New York, said he has seen even the most conservative courts put in extra effort to allow trans people bathroom access.
“I think one of the benefits of a judiciary is certain things about the very administration of the buildings aren’t really politicized,” Young said. “It’s under presumption that courts need to be generally accessible to people.”
Quite simply, the judicial system has no choice.
“Courts have a constitutional responsibility to make sure that courts are generally accessible to the public and specifically to people who need to use the court,” Young added.
Bathrooms have long been contested public spaces for marginalized groups, and courtrooms have not been immune. That means transgender access is not the first challenge facing court facility managers.
“Some of them didn’t even have women’s bathrooms until quite recently. Usually when reconstruction for bathrooms is done, they try to make sure things are accessible,” Young said.
Sandra Day O’Connor, the first woman to serve on the Supreme Court, encountered that problem in 1981 when she was sworn in.
“[The bathroom] was a long way down the hallway, so it wouldn’t have been convenient,” she told NPR in 2013. “And we had to find something in the way of a restroom that was near the courtroom that I would be able to use when we were back there or in the room where we discussed cases.”
Government buildings have undergone similar upgrades to make bathrooms accessible for people with disabilities since the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990. Courthouses also reconfigured racially divided bathrooms and courtrooms in the wake of desegregation during the civil rights movement.
Now, all-gender access is the next goal for many municipalities. Nearly half of states (22 plus Washington D.C.) allow residents to opt for “X” gender markers on their state ID cards, and the federal government has been issuing “X” gender markers on passports for two years now. Just three states bar trans people from updating their IDs post-transition.
In Los Angeles County, officials have worked to ensure that every courthouse has a gender-neutral bathroom, according to a spokesperson for the superior court of the county.
“The Court supports inclusivity and seeks to expand access to justice by identifying and addressing barriers — substantive, procedural, physical and in appearance —that may inhibit full participation in the judicial process,” the court said in a statement.
In Cook County, which encompasses Chicago and has one of the world’s largest judicial systems, officials are engaged in research and design plans to add gender-neutral bathrooms to all of its courts. Such facilities already exist at the main courthouses for criminal court, domestic violence, juvenile cases and in the city branch courts.
Even today, Scott worries about violence and harassment in public restrooms. According to the 2015 U.S. Transgender Survey, 60 percent of trans people avoided using a public bathroom for fear of discrimination.
While trans people have gained acceptance in many areas of public life, data shows that discrimination remains high or has increased from a decade ago. A more recent survey in 2022 found that 47 percent of trans Americans considered fleeing their states because anti-trans laws, including bathroom bans, had made their communities less safe.
But Young, who is also transgender, hopes that courts today will provide visitors with a different experience than the one Scott had 15 years ago. For the most part, Young has had positive experiences as a trans person in courts. His transgender clients have, too.
That doesn’t mean that every court is perfect, he adds. Many still won’t have a gender-neutral bathroom, and often visitors will need to ask a judge for access. But Young thinks that most courts will aim to provide safety for trans people.
“They want to make sure that people can be in court,” Young said. That doesn’t necessarily mean that they might agree with the litigant just because of who they are, but they really do care about making sure that litigants and the broader public understand that they’re part of the overarching community.”
Chinese fleeing Rock Springs
Uncle Ho, Ho Chi Minh
The speech: 
Betty Williams
Mairead Corrigan
