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Trans Women CEOs Are Redefining What It Means To Be A Leader

By Abby Stuckrath

This article was originally published in Tagg Magazine here.

Empowered by her community of Black trans women, Elle Moxley works to create space for all people to live authentically, including herself. She’s one of two trans women leaders we spoke to who are transforming the nonprofit and corporate industries.

“I feel celebrated when I get to go into every room, authentically myself without any compromise about who I am and what I want,” Moxley tells Tagg Magazine.

Moxley is a co-founding member of the Black Lives Matter organization and founder and CEO of the Marsha P. Johnson Institute, an organization created to protect the lives of Black trans women through racial, gender, reproductive, and gun reform advocacy.

“My work is to utilize my influence to create something different than what exists when most people want things to stay the same,” says Moxley.

For Moxley, she understands that as a Black trans woman, she doesn’t fit the stereotypical CEO image: “I don’t fit the trope that any of us have when we think about what a leader looks like or who a leader is,” she says.

In 2022, less than one percent of Fortune 500 companies had an LGBTQ+ CEO, with only two trans women on the list.

While the number of LGBTQ+ leaders is low, trans women have found a way to transcend norms. For example, in 2013, Martine Rothblatt was the highest-paid woman CEO in the United States, a monumental moment for trans women in the corporate business industry.

While there is still more work to do to create a diverse business field, Moxley notes how revolutionary her position and work are.

“Black trans women, CEOs, and leaders that exist now didn’t exist ten years ago or not even five years ago,” Moxley tells Tagg. “There’s been so much community and opportunity building within the past few years.”

Michaela Mendelsohn, founder of TransCanWork and businesswoman with more than 40 years of leadership experience under her belt, has witnessed both trans celebration and discrimination in the corporate industry.

“The support of corporate America has been, in my experience, the single most important part of LGBTQ+ growth,” Mendelsohn tells Tagg. “When I see corporations start to push back against political entities that are negative, it makes a positive difference.”

However, she said corporate leaders can still be hesitant to be trans-inclusive. Mendelsohn recalled when she asked Steve Sather, then CEO of El Pollo Loco, to install inclusive LGBTQ+ training in the workplace.

“He said, ‘No, don’t tell me how to run my company,’ and he basically ran me out of the office,” Mendelsohn recalls.

Mendelsohn and Moxley feel the most accepted and supported when companies put their money where their mouths are. “I feel celebrated when we are able to receive support financially and when we have the same opportunities for grants as other nonprofit organizations,” says Moxley.

Mendelsohn agrees: “There’s a lot of power in the almighty dollar.”

Support doesn’t only come in the form of money; family and friends play an integral part in their professional and personal achievements.

Mendelsohn hasn’t been fighting the corporate business world alone. She has built a loving family with her partner, giving her a brighter purpose and sense of self. “Raising my children has been the best part of my life,” Mendelsohn says.

Moxley’s found family and friends are the backbone of her success. She said that for any aspiring trans woman activist and leader, they must build a community of support.

“Build a network of friends who you know have your best interests at heart. You’re going to need people to hold you and love you,” Moxley advises . “When people tell you that you’re awful and that you’re doing a horrible job or that your identity is a disservice to humanity, you’re going to need that.”

Black queer dancer O’Shae Sibley killed in suspected hate crime: update

By Abby Stuckrath

This article was originally published in News Is Out in partnership with Tagg Magazine here.

The suspect in the fatal stabbing of O’Shae Sibley reportedly turned himself in, according to the New York Police Department. The suspect, who is 17 years old, was charged with murder in the second degree with a hate crime enhancement and criminal possession of a weapon.

An impromptu voguing session in a gas station parking lot turned deadly when a prominent Black queer dancer was killed by a suspected teen yelling homophobic epithets, according to police.  

On Saturday night, O’Shae Sibley, 28, and friends stopped at Mobil Gas station in Brooklyn to refill on gas after a day trip to the Jersey Shore. While stopped, Sibley and his friends began jamming and voguing to Beyonce’s album “Renaissance,” according to media reports.

Security footage shows a group of men exiting the Bolla Market calling out to the group of dancers, reportedly shouting homophobic slurs and insults. Sibley approaches the men in defense, where the argument escalates when a man in black shorts pulls out a knife and stabs Sibley. 

Otis Pena, a witness and close friend of Sibley, held the stab wound near his heart until paramedics arrived. He was pronounced dead on arrival at Maimonides Medical Center. 

On Saturday, Aug. 5, the suspect in the fatal stabbing turned himself in, according to the New York Police Department. The 17-year-old suspect was charged with murder in the second degree with a hate crime enhancement and criminal possession of a weapon.

Voguing, especially in New York City, is deeply tied to the BIPOC queer community. The New York ballroom scene, starting in the 1960s, was the birthplace of ball and vogue competitions. It was a safe space for the socially ostracized Black and Hispanic queer community.

“Vogue has always been a celebration in resistance because of the lifestyles that we chose,” said Devon Webster, a ballroom artist known as Pony Zion, in an article with Insider. “Ballroom is the resistance, but voguing is a celebration. Voguing as resist? No, it’s irresistible. It’s about feeling good about who and what I am, and not because of something else.”

For Sibley, this innately queer act, voguing, a mere act of celebration, made him a target for violence. 

“They murdered him because he was gay because he stood up for his friends,” said Pena in a Facebook Live. “Just pumping gas, listening to Renaissance, just having a good time.” 

Violent, senseless acts against BIPOC LGBTQ individuals continue to be a prevalent global issue. Last month, an openly queer singer Josiah’ Jonty’ Robinson of Beaulieu, was strangled to death on Grenada Beach in the Caribbean. The Anti-Defamation League (ADL) and national LGBTQ organization GLAAD have reported more than 350 incidents of harassment, vandalism, and assault against LGBTQIA+ individuals from June 2022 to April 2023.

In response to the attack, Beyonce wrote, “Rest in Power. O’Shae Sibley” on the front page of her website. 

Her album “Renaissance” is widely accepted amongst the Black queer community. The album – dedicated to her late Uncle Johnny – a gay man and LGBTQ+ advocate who died of AIDS-related complications – is an amalgamation of ballroom vogue references and features artists like Big Freedia, Honey Dijon, Syd, Moi Renee and so much more. 

Sibley was deeply immersed in the ballroom and queer dance scene. As a professional dancer, he performed at the Lincoln Center in a digital media exhibit, “An Electric Dance to the Moment in Time”.  Director Kemar Jewel,  a close-found family member of Sibley, told NY Daily News about Sibley’s notable choreography work in his dance video, “Soft: A Love Letter to Queer Black Men.”

“He could sing, he could do hip hop, jazz, ballet, tap, and he was an incredible voguer! That’s how we became close,” wrote Jewel in a Facebook post.  

Sibley’s death has sent ripples across the queer dance community. 

“This news is absolutely heartbreaking, and we believe no one deserves to be targeted for simply being themselves and living in their truth,” said Philadanco!, Sibley’s old dance company, in a Facebook post. “We are keeping high hopes that Justice will be served.” 

“I’ll make sure that every Black Queer artist I meet knows that I am who I am because you poured into me and believed in me, even when no one else did,” said Jewel. 

This story was updated 8/7/23 with new information.

Poignant and packed ‘Monsters of the American Cinema’ at Prologue Theatre

By Daarel Burnette II

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

Actor Fletcher Lowe makes a mean monster. He sprawls his limbs, curls his fingers, and makes a guttural noise so freakish I squirmed.

It’s too bad that the plot of Monsters of the American Cinema — presented by Prologue Theatre at Atlas Performing Arts Center through August 6 — fails to make much sense of his character Pup’s monstrous tendencies. There are moments throughout this 90-minute play, directed by Jason Tamborini, co-starring Gerrad Alex Taylor as Remy Washington, that were intimate, frightening, funny, and sad. But the dots are never connected for me to make sense of it all. The stakes are never raised enough for me to care.

Playwright Christian St. Croix stuffs a kaleidoscope of identities with fraught pasts into two characters, parsing out their backstories in a series of monologues. 

Remy is a Black gay man who fled his abusive family and the racist South to work in San Diego, where he meets and falls in love and marries Pup’s father, who soon dies of a heroin overdose and leaves Remy his drive-in movie theater and straight, white teenage son, beset with recurring nightmares, to look after.

Pup and Remy bond over their love and deep knowledge of 1930s horror films, clips of which are projected on two giant screens that border the stage.

Scenic designer Nadir Bey assembled an elaborate set, giving us a glance at Pup’s messy room, walled off from a neat living room and kitchen. Two-thirds of the way through, the characters move to the roof of the set, which doubles as the drive-in.

The set is enhanced by designer Helen Garcia-Alton’s lighting, which flashes from the ground and the sky and the sides of the stage, and sound designer Dan Deiter, who projects pounding noises that make the seats shake.

Pup and Remy crisscross the set, entering and exiting, pausing to give long monologues before interacting with each other. This can be hard to follow for the average theatergoer who can handle only so much information and subplots at once. Are we supposed to pay attention to Pup’s growing racism and homophobia? Or his nightmares? Or Remy’s struggles to take care of Pup and the drive-in? All three?

Taylor lands some funny jokes through his characterization of Remy.

And the bonding and intimacy displayed between Pup and Remy is poignant and convincing. Remy’s arms are tangled up with Pup’s as they wrestle over a cell phone. Remy bounces on Pup’s bed as he plays Candy Crush.

But I wasn’t convinced, honestly speaking, by Remy’s reaction to the moments Pup used the F and N words, a lazy way to indicate that Pup loves his stepfather but is disgusted by his identity (being called a slur, while hurtful, is not the most typical or potent form of racism and homophobia for Black gay people).

The highlight of this show is Lowe’s acting, who would shine in a play about monsters that made more sense.

2023 Capital Fringe Review: ‘The Road to the End’ by Bella Panciocco

By Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

It’s been said that laughter is the best medicine. The Road to the End uses comedy to tell a story of grief and how we can use it to process our feelings. In 75 minutes the play examines themes of loss, grief, memories, friendship, bravery, and forgiveness.

What appears to be a fairly regular road trip to the Grand Canyon for a father and son, Steve and Henry, actually turns into something surprising. They pick up a hitchhiker by the name of Dabria. She helps the characters to peel back the layers of their rocky relationship. In many ways, Dabria and Henry are alike. They’re both travelers with heavy baggage who are looking to escape from the pain they’re feeling. Over the course of their journey, Henry and Dabria help each other make peace with their past and the people they love.

 The play uses two sets of characters for the past and present, which could have made the story difficult to follow, but the actors were very committed to their characters. The actors maintain the relational dynamics between the characters in the present and references to the past, and as a result, we always stay aware of the story.

I left this play reflecting on road trips, a seemingly mundane thing but a shared experience many of us can relate to.

If you’re interested in a quirky heartwarming story that confronts the sometimes complicated relationships between a child and their parent — especially an adult child and their parent — I recommend this play.

2023 Capital Fringe Review: ‘I could have set the world on fire’ by Shaun Michael Johnson

By Whit Davis

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts on July 18, 2023, here.

Can the accents of characters drive a story? I could have set the world on fire, making its debut at Capital Fringe, asks us to consider.

This play is for you if you love hearing a variety of accents and they make you laugh. Unfortunately, the play fails to inspire much beyond admiration for the accents of the performers.

The play centers around Ernest Williams, an American with a posh accent sharing his old stories of working in film from his hospital bed with his Southern belle ex-wife and their daughter. As Ernest recounts his life stories, he embellishes and tries to gloss over the anti-Black roles he felt obligated to accept if he wanted to have a career in showbiz. The play also taps into how anti-Black racism can wreck the body and how the healthcare system experiments on Black bodies.

 However funny the play attempts to be, the jokes don’t find a solid place to land. The accents do a lot of heavy lifting for the play by distracting from the plot’s flimsiness. Lying underneath are strong themes that don’t quite get the support they need. The dialogue doesn’t easily flow between the characters, and the lack of chemistry is evident among them making me wonder if the director and playwright understood each other’s goals. With competing levels of connection to their characters, the play is stuck in rehearsal.

The play could have set the festival on fire but instead does little more than make a case for the playfulness of accents.

2023 Capital Fringe Review: ‘#Charlottesville’ by Priyanka Shetty

By Daarel Burnette II

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

I love theater for its potential to synthesize and succinctly reflect back to us traumatic moments in history, and serve as a healing device.

The 2017 rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, that resulted in the senseless death of Heather Heyer when a white supremacist rammed his car into a crowd of counter-protestors is a wound that’s still fresh.

Priyanka Shetty doesn’t flinch in her dynamic production of #Charlottesville, playing during this week’s Capital Fringe festival presented by Voices Festival Productions. In 75 minutes, she muscles through the leadup, clash, and fallout of a day most Americans would rather forget.

Her research is comprehensive. Her acting is poignant. Her stamina is stunning.

It’s exceedingly difficult to tell recent nonfiction stories about race. Our identities, politics, and chaotic modes of news consumption pollute our memories. And mainstream American culture has inconveniently deemed day-to-day conversations on race as taboo.

Priyanka, under the direction of A. Lorraine Robinson, exploits the tools of theater to walk audiences through the many ways residents, UVA students, activists, and politicians perceived the taking down of the Confederate statues, the election of President Donald Trump, and that fateful day when it all came to a head.

Dressed in khaki pants and a black turtleneck, Priyanka does a spot-on characterization of multiple witnesses, sensitively respecting their perspectives while also upholding the truth of what did and did not happen.

Effective use of lighting, sound, and stage direction keeps the narration succinct. What results is a salve that deserves recognition beyond DC.

2023 Capital Fringe Review: ‘A Bro’s Tale’ by Majdy Fares

By Daarel Burnette II

This article was originally published in DC Theater Arts here.

Majdy Fares has all the markings of a standout comic: He’s confident, perceptive, and has great comedic timing. But he fails in his one-hour standup A Bro’s Tale, playing during this week’s Capital Fringe, to deliver a cohesive story with clear takeaways.

He sets himself up for a great punchline. On a simple comic’s stage, complete with a mic stand, table, and bottle of water, he begins his act by describing an intimate love story in a seemingly foreign land, Dearborn, Michigan.

The son of Palestinian immigrants, Majdy is pressured at an early age to both assimilate into American cultural norms and uphold his parents’ Palestinian traditions. It’s here where Majdy is at his best, giving us lessons on how to actually pronounce his name (it’s Mahj-DEE), poetic descriptions of Dearborn (its own planet, covered in clouds of cologne, populated with hookah-bros), and punching up at Americans’ bizarre stereotypes and hangups with race (his description of his father’s bafflement after leaving the war-torn Middle East to arrive in the middle of Detroit’s 1967 race riots is hilarious).

When Majdy falls in love with an aspiring investigative journalist, he tailspins into an identity crisis. It’s here where he loses the thread of his story. By the time he finishes jokes about a cross-country road trip, apple shopping, and the obligatory (and exhausting) rant about free speech, he has little time to flesh out important plot points and central characters including his now-wife.A Bro’s Tale and Majdy have potential. A healthy edit will sharpen this necessary voice.