Abby Stuckrath

By Abby Stuckrath

This article was originally published in Tagg Magazine here.

Elated over her success in organizing the first Jamaican Pride celebration, Kendra Frith drove home believing she made a difference for her conservative community. It wasn’t until a police officer pulled her over that her bubble of hope burst. 

She remembers the officer gesturing to the backseat, asking why she had a pride flag. “He said I should be careful because it could have been a different police officer, and things could have gone differently,” recalled Frith. 

It was this moment that made Frith begin to seriously question the role of the Jamaican Police to serve and protect all persons in the country. “It made me feel threatened,” she said.

Still, when Frith bought her round-trip ticket to the United States two years later, she had no intention of leaving home for good. Eight years after arriving, Frith has yet to board her return flight.  “I came to the U.S. on a round-trip ticket just to chill,” she shares. “When I was here, things just got worse back home, and I was like, ‘Okay, I can’t go back.’”

With the help of the Rainbow Railroad—a nonprofit organization dedicated to assisting LGBTQ+ individuals escaping state-sponsored violence—Frith was able to stay in the U.S. and request asylum. 

“I wanted to stay [in Jamaica] and help make my country better,” says Frith. “Nobody wants to leave their home and leave everything behind.” 

Frith’s brother, Christopher, said her departure was devastating. “It was not easy watching her leave,” he says. “It was extremely difficult for not only me but our entire family.”

Even with the help of Rainbow Railroad, Frith’s transition wasn’t smooth. Living in New York City as an undocumented immigrant was extremely isolating. After three years of constant workplace abuse and missing the death and funeral of her grandmother, Frith attempted to take her own life. “I ended up in the hospital, and I was there for two days. After I started to get therapy, I realized that I have a new chance at life,” says Frith. 

Frith’s new chance began with moving to Virginia and later working for the same organization that helped her stay in the United States, Rainbow Railroad. As the Senior Engagement Officer, she helps refugees settle into their new lives and offers them the support system she didn’t have. 

But Frith isn’t new to the LGBTQ+ advocacy scene; back in Jamaica, it was her entire career. She worked with Jamaican LGBTQ+ organizations JFlag, Color Pink, and WE-Change. “I’m glad that I was able to be part of that organization, but it’s also the reason why I am no longer in Jamaica,” says Frith. 

Virginia brought Frith more than just a job. It also introduced her to her partner, Kelly Richards. Richards also fled Jamaica due to multiple threats against her life as a masculine-presenting queer woman. Introduced by Frith’s uncle, Frith helped Richards build her U.S. asylum case. 

“I fell in love first,” Richard shares. “Her personality and willingness to help made me want to hold on to her.” 

From assisting her partner to becoming a mentor to new Rainbow Railroad refugees, Frith loves helping others bear the burden and stress of starting over. 

Frith remembers welcoming the first member of their program at the airport. She recalls him running to her and falling into her arms, desperately crying thank you over and over again. “I was just like, ‘Okay, this is it, like this is it.’ The hug was like a weight. I was able to take something away from him,” says Frith. 

After eight years in the United States, Frith’s asylum case is still pending. Nowadays, she connects to her Jamaican roots by eating Richard’s delicious curried goat recipes and listening to old-school reggae.

By Abby Stuckrath

This article was originally published in Tagg Magazine, here.

LGBTQ+ massage therapists are creating new spaces for queer and transgender patients to feel not just accepted but seen. As practitioners work to craft gender-affirming spaces, there are multiple tactics that LBGTQ+ clients can use to ensure adequate care. 

Frances Reed, a massage therapist and educator in Washington, D.C. is teaching a new generation of LGBTQ+ inclusive practitioners, as well as leading medical research behind chest binding health. 

Washington D.C. is the only state or district that requires LGBTQ+ competency training for massage therapy licensure, says Reed. Anyone not living in the D.C., is left with the burden of educating therapists on transgender and queer care. 

Reed teaches that long-term binder compression can cause upper chest and back pain, as well as other serious health issues such as shortness of breath and loss of sensation in arms or fingers. Massaging the chest area can help mitigate chronic pain and significantly increase quality of life for binding individuals. 

To make sure that transmasc and genderqueer folks are receiving adequate care, Reed suggests bringing their binders to the session. 

“Some massage therapists don’t know what a binder really is,” says Reed. “So they imagine something that is not usually accurate, and that will affect how they might go about treating pain that you’re having from binding.” 

Thomas Lavi, a transgender massage therapist based in Oakland, California, says those recovering from postoperative top surgery, must discuss their physical limitations or recovery methods with their therapists. 

“Often your range of motion is limited to the parallel with your shoulder, you wouldn’t wanna stretch someone up above their head,” says Lavi. 

Again, Lavi stresses that many practitioners won’t be familiar with these limitations, so patients must be prepared to educate them on the main protocols of post-operative care. 

For those unable to access an LGBTQ+ specialist, Lavi says there are three things to do and look for when looking for an inclusive therapist: check their vibe, check their license, and make sure they respect draping and clothing techniques. 

“You have the autonomy to wear anything that you want and any trained massage therapist should be able to work with articles of clothing,” says Lavi. “That’s totally okay. It shouldn’t affect the impact of the massage and if they tell you that it does, they’re lying and you shouldn’t work with them.”

Reed says that gender affirming therapy offices don’t just accept transgender existence but make transgender clients feel seen and heard.

“When spaces understand what it is to be trans in the world socially, what it is to be in a transitioning body, are comfortable talking about bodies in language that de-emphasizes gender; you’ve actually created an actively affirming space, not just a space without discrimination or harassment,” shares Reed. 

For those concerned about cost, Reed says that transgender and queer therapists often offer a sliding scale or scholarship system. 

“It’s hard to be really focused on queer and trans community and not see the economic disparity that exists and so most of us tend to respond to that with some kind of financial model that allows for support of people who can’t afford the full rate,” says Reed. 

Since many massage therapists lack in-depth knowledge of transgender and queer care, Lavi and Reed suggest finding an LGBTQ+ massage specialist. 

“We’re having to teach our doctors what it is to be trans, what it means and what we need and that’s why it’s so special to have a trans therapist who can take that load from you,” says Lavi.

By Abby Stuckrath

This article was originally published in Tagg Magazine, here.

The D.C. LGBTQ+ Community Center’s  new collaboration with regional supermarket chain Wegman’s highlights food insecurity within the LGBTQ+ community and how Washington D.C. advocates are working to fight against it. 

One in four LGBTQ+ adults experience food insecurity, according to the Williams Institute. Kimberely Bush, Executive Director of the D.C. LGBTQ+ Community Center, says that food insecurity is one of the most pressing challenges for queer people. 

“Just waking up brown, black, a woman, non-binary, trans, queer, can definitely be a barrier to equal and fair housing, equal and fair job opportunities, access to resources, which directly contributes to food insecurity,” Bush told Tagg. 

Bush is leading the center’s new partnership with Wegmans. The supermarket chain will not only help supply food for the pantry but also provide nutritional cooking classes and support for their annual Thanksgiving dinner. 

Bush says the pantry will be a “one-stop-shop” for those searching for a new home or a place to feel loved and accepted. 

The COVID-19 pandemic has played a significant role in perpetuating food insecurity amongst the LGBTQ+ community. In a 2021 study by the Williams Institute, 20 percent of transgender individuals experienced food insecurity, compared to eight percent of cisgender adults. Moreover, LGBTQ+ people of color experienced food insecurity three times more than their white counterparts. 

Bush notes that she sees the everyday implications of these statistics at their food pantry. 

“Our brown, black, LGBTQ+ siblings who come into the center in search of food are exactly those members of our community,” says Bush. 

LGBTQ+ individuals’ ability to access nutrition programs and food pantries can be difficult, according to Alex Ashbrook, Root Causes and Specific Populations Director for the Food Research and Access Center.  

“The paperwork necessary to apply for programs may require someone to select an option that does not match their gender identity or a food pantry may be located in a faith-based institution that does not welcome or feel welcoming to LGBTQIA+ people,” Ashbrook wrote in a statement to Tagg. 

Bush says their pantry is made for this exact reason.

“We need a safe and affirming space to come to receive vital life and human services,” Bush notes. “It is paramount that we have access to healthy foods at no cost to our people.” 

In Washington, D.C., individuals in Ward 7 and 8, the largest majority Black neighborhoods, face disproportionate access to grocery stores. 

“​​There is only one full-service grocery store – a Giant on Alabama Ave – for 73 thousand residents compared to Ward 3, with 16 full-service grocery stores for 77 thousand residents,” Ashbrook said, citing a study conducted by D.C. Hunger Solution. 

Bush says that the pantry will work to target residents in these Wards and help provide them access to the center’s resources. 

“We want to make sure that all of our LGBTQ+ siblings in those Wards continue to be informed about our food pantry, as well as the upcoming educational opportunities we are planning,” Bush states. 

To support food security amongst the LGBTQ+ community, Ashbrook urges individuals to support the Equality Act — a bill that protects against discrimination based on gender and sexuality — and connect LGBTQ+ people to federal nutrition programs. 

For Bush, she is confident that their new space will help create a “healthy spirit that will feed them and feed their day to be able to wake up again and have a fighting chance of not only surviving but thriving.” 

The LGBTQ+ D.C. Community Center’s pantry will be launched at its new location, 1827 Wiltberger St. NW, Washington, DC on an undetermined date.