“They are not including us. We have to stand up”: Miss Major On Why The Fight To End State Violence Must Be Inclusive Of The Black Trans Community
By Jaimee A. Swift
Revolutionary transgender activist, elder, community leader and icon, Miss Major, shares her thoughts and perspectives on police brutality, the current protests, and why we still have a long way to go to truly make all Black lives matter.
CW/TW: Transphobia, Anti-Black death, transmisogynoir
Miss Major Griffin-Gracy is a radical icon, a relentless activist, and formidable leader in the fight for equity and human rights for transgender women of color and gender non-conforming people. Born in the South Side of Chicago in 1940, Miss Major has dedicated over 40 years of her life to the struggle for freedom and civil rights for the transgender community. She, along with revolutionaries Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, were leaders of the Stonewall Riots of 1969 in New York City. Despite the chronic attempt to white-wash and heteronormalize the Stonewall Riots, she continues to say the names and uplift the work of Marsha, Sylvia, and other Black and Brown transgender women who have and continue to be on the frontlines for justice.
A former sex worker and a survivor of Attica State Prison, Miss Major’s unjust, discriminatory, and often violent experiences with law enforcement and the prison industrial system propelled her to help, mentor, and provide assistance to incarcerated and formerly incarcerated transgender people. More specifically, it was her experience while incarcerated at the Clinton Correctional Facility where she was mentored and politicized by Frank “Big Black” Smith, who was a leader of the Attica prison riots in 1971. As the former Executive Director of the Transgender Gender Variant & Intersex Justice Project (TGI Justice Project), a non-profit organization based in San Francisco, California, she worked tirelessly to end human rights violations and abuses against trans women of color and gender non-conforming persons who are incarcerated in men’s jails and prisons, who were formerly incarcerated, and who are targeted by the police.
Miss Major also worked as an HIV/AIDS treatment advocate and aided communities that were disproportionately impacted and neglected during the height of the HIV/AIDS crisis. It is because of Miss Major’s immense love and compassion for others and her tireless dedication to the struggle for trans liberation and freedom, which is why she is referred to as “Mama” to so many.
In 2015, she was the subject of the documentary film, MAJOR!, which focused on her life and leadership. On July 4, 2019, Miss Major suffered a stroke while in her residence in Little Rock, Arkansas. But just like her infamous mantra, “I am still fucking here”, Miss Major is still here. She is still fucking here.
Black Women Radicals spoke with Miss Major about what is giving her joy these days; her thoughts on the current political climate and protests; advice she would give to young Black trans women; and more.
Jaimee Swift (JS): What is giving you joy these days?
Miss Major (MM): “My car gives me joy! [Laughs] I go and get in my convertible and I drive around alone. It is nice. I get pleasure from just that. I don’t need a lot. I get pleasure from staying in and talking with folks. I am alright.”
JS: We are so happy you are here.
MM: “Yes, I am still here and still fighting!” [Laughs]
JS: Around the world, communities are grappling with COVID-19 which has disproportionately impacted the Black community. We are now seeing global protests in response to the murder of George Floyd by police. However, the death of Tony McDade, a Black trans man, by police in Tallahassee, Florida; the death of Nina Pop, a Black trans woman who was stabbed to death in Missouri; and the transphobic community violence enacted against Iyanna Dior, a young Black trans woman in Minneapolis, have been chronically overlooked. Why must we so desperately need to center the lives and leadership of the Black trans community in dialogues and radical solutions to ending state violence, health inequities, and more?
MM: “You know, I have a lot of empathy for them [the protestors]. I understand why the protests are important because they are. But guess what? They beat up Black men and they in turn beat us up. We have to stop it. If we don’t, what we are fighting for won’t work. It has to be all Black people and that includes transgender people, that includes moms, moms without children, and more. They have to realize we are also included. They are not including us. We have to stand up.”
JS: What are your thoughts on the protests, specifically?
MM: “I think it is a good thing but it is not inclusive of everybody. I think this time a change is going to come but it is not going to include us. We are going to have to continue to fight so that it can include us and that everybody is represented.”
JS: Do you mind discussing your experiences being in New York during the late sixties and how this impacted you and your politics?
MM: “It impacted me because it was the place to be! [Laughs] Honey, there was no place like New York in the sixties––none! And turning tricks was the thing to do! [Laughs] I relish that, you know. I got politicized when I went to jail. I got five years for some stuff. There I met Frank ‘Big Black’ and he turned me on to a lot of stuff that was really going on. I learned how they were using ‘Big Black’ to keep the prison quelled down. Through that, I became politicized. Since then, I have not stopped ranting and raving and complaining about all kinds of stuff! [Laughs] And I am going to continue to rant and rave and complain!”
JS: When you heard about the anonymous activists who painted Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera’s statutes brown, what was your first reaction to that? Why do you think there is this constant attempt to erase Black and Brown trans women as leaders of the Gay Liberation movement?
MM: “You know, fags, dykes, lesbians, and the like, they didn’t know what was going on that night during 1969. They don’t know why it happened and they don’t know what the outcome was of it. Until they realize what happened and who was important, nothing they do is going to come into any fruition. I feel that painting [Marsha and Sylvia brown] is a wonderful thing. The last time I was in New York, I saw them. It did me good just to know some people were aware of what they did and what they wanted to do. So that made me feel good. The question of why they try to whitewash the movement––it just doesn’t make any sense to me. That is why I continue to go on and still be a voice.”
JS: I previously did an interview with Miss Janetta Johnson!
MM: “Oh, that is my baby! That is my daughter!” [Laughs]
JS: Yes! She told me how much you inspire her and it was you who politicized her. When you see this generation of Black trans women activists in the U.S. and abroad, how does that make you feel?
MM: “I am elated they want to call me mother or grandmother. I am so––it takes my breath away. When I think about it, I cry. They don’t have to do that, you know? But they do and that really touches me. I feel really gung-ho for them. I hope and pray they accomplish the things I couldn’t get done.”
JS: In our interview, Miss Janetta mentioned the importance of Black trans women having their own––their own organizations, their own initiatives, their own cultural spaces. How would you like to see this in the future?
MM: “I would really like it if Black women––trans or otherwise––ran transgender organizations. Or if there are organizations where cis women can understand what it means for a woman to be trans and they are able to work with one another. That is such a difficult thing for people to accept. The world I would like to see is where everyone gets to succeed. I want it to be where everyone gets a chance to be who they are. Then they can carry that forward and not back. That would be a good time to be here.”
JS: I can’t wait until we get there.
MM: “We are going to get there. It is going to be hard but we are going to get there.”
JS: Well, it is because of people like you that we are getting there. It really is.
JS: What advice would you give to young Black trans women who want to get into activism?
MM: “That they keep trying. When you do this, you do it because your heart is involved. Unless you care about something, you can’t do it because it will come to nothing. You can talk a good game but people know the difference. Our people want clarity, they want assuredness, and they want to know if they can come to you when things get bad. My girls and guys know if something is really troubling them, they can get me. I am with them and I am around them. I hope they can continue to push forward because in pushing, they gotta make way!” [Laughs]
Who are some Black Women Radicals who inspire you?
MM: “Well, a lot of younger people started to inspire me like Janet Mock. They inspire me a lot because the young people got to take it up and go on. As far as people my age, of course Sylvia and all of that generation of people inspire me but they inspire me in the sense of what could be––what it could be if we could have an equal and fair society and if we are included. Black Lives Matter came up recently. I got to know Alicia [Garza] and she is in our corner. However, some people who say ‘Black Lives Matter’ are not always in our corner. I have to believe eventually they will come around and they will see it has to be all of us or none.”
What does a Black Woman Radical mean to you?
MM: “You know what, I have been thinking about that because you know––oh, girl! [Laughs] I don’t know. A radical woman––especially women like us––there is a difference in how we go about it. The thing that makes us radical is we don’t accept what is handed to us. We don’t accept that. When we get something from somebody else, we take it apart. We want to see why they did this and what is its purpose. So to be a radical means you are tearing it down. I am with that––I will tear it down. But we have to build it up––all of us. It is inclusive.”
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