In which I spoke on Slate’s Outward podcast about signaling my transness.
In which I write in Slate about my relationship to lesbian identity.
In which I write in Slate about canvassing in North Carolina with a bunch of other trans activists, and dealing with the impending nightmare of President Trump.
In which I write in Slate about how Donald Trump’s attempted wooing of LGBTQ people is kind of like Nixon and Reagan’s efforts to win over the white working class.
In which I write about my various run-ins with the late great Marion Barry.
In which I tell folks from ChasingNJ about the importance of letting transgender people change their birth certificates without gender reassignment surgery as a prerequisite.
In which I work with this awesome young activist to bring justice for him and other transgender kids in Ocean County, NJ.
In which I write in Slate about silencing transphobes.
In which I talk to NJ Capitol Report about being bullied in school.
In which I outline my agenda for Garden State Equality.
In which someone writing for The Advocate writes about my graduation speech at Catholic University of America, and calls it “inspiring.”
In which a concert reviewer with Vinyl District, seeing my band Southern Problems, describes me thus: “She sits cross-legged on the amp, jumps from the top of it, and meanders around the stage so erratically I feel like she’s about to whip through some gear the whole time, but all collisions are expertly avoided.”
In which I talk to Tom Sherwood about trans people and health care while I wear black-rimmed glasses.
In which I talk to Tom Sherwood about trans people and birth certificates while I wear cat-eye glasses.
In which I think I make Laverne Cox laugh (somewhere between 13:53 and 17:23).
In which I say things to the LA Times about transgender people and birth certificates.
In which I work with several people to sue a homeless shelter in DC.
In which Matt Cohen, writing for Washington City Paper, compares my solo album to Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska and John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band.
In which I claim that Prince didn’t actually write “Sign O the Times.”
In which I caper and cavort around the DC Council building, for the sake of better administrative law w/r/t trans folks.
In which I out myself publicly as the author of Newt Gingrich fanfic.