The Power of the Trans Power Potluck 

The evening before Thanksgiving, the Labor Temple on Eureka's E Street is mostly dark from the street. It's not clear this is the right place until Sister Gaia T steps into the light in the hallway.

"Welcome!" she calls, waving a willowy arm. She's without her zinc white "sister-face" makeup and regalia, instead wearing a knit hat and Marsha P. Johnson T-shirt, guiding guests to the small buffet to one side of the handful of tables. As people trickle in, they place their contributions to the Trans Power Potluck beside bowls of salad, baked squash and cupcakes.

The potluck capped off the Trans Week of Resistance organized by Eureka's chapter of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. "In the face of escalating anti-trans rhetorical, legal and physical violence," a press release stated, "we offer a week in which the truths of our grief and our joy are honored." The week included panel discussions, a poetry and art show, a speed-friending event and a Transgender Day of Remembrance vigil. And according to Sister Gaia T, it was important to hold the potluck at the end, on the eve of Thanksgiving.

"As an anti-colonial queer, I prefer to create spaces for our community rather than celebrate genocidal holidays," she says with a grin, adding that the holiday as celebrated revolves around food and family. "So many trans people have been taken from their families and live isolated lives." The loneliness of losing contact with family or not being able to be with family as one's authentic self can be compounded by the holidays. The hope, she explains, is to combat isolation with community.

At 19, Sister Gaia T says she was "fortunate to be taken in by the Sisters until my family came around." While she had peers at Humboldt State University, she didn't have elders, and was grateful to bond with and learn from older sisters. "The love they offered was so powerful," she says, noting Sister Juana Little's mentorship came with comfort food. "Anyone can come to her house and have a meal."

Sister Gaia T recalls Sister Saturnalia, aka the late John Hudson, feeding everyone and sharing personal stories of the Civil Rights Movement, his time in the military and the early days of Act Up in San Francisco ("A Giant Falls in the Redwoods," Sept. 20, 2018). A trained chef, Hudson was famous for his cooking and the potlucks he hosted.

"Food is what binds humanity together and what could be more fitting for a diverse community than a potluck?" Sister Gaia T asks, gesturing to tables filling out. "So many trans events are focused on grief and resistance, but what nourishes us?"

An attendee named Jenna says they'd come to the Trans Power Potluck at their therapist's advice. Community, they say, "fulfills me, inspires me to work with people ... to heal and help others heal." And then there was the food. "I always need to be eating, so food is a big draw." Their sly smile falls a little as they add that the loss of family connections is a struggle, especially during the holidays.

Bobbi, who came with Jenna, had gone to the speed-friending event and, as a gender fluid person herself, was looking forward to meeting more people in the queer community. Besides, she says she wanted to show support. "I love all my trans besties."

Sitting next to Bobbi and Jenna was Ellie, who also came out to meet people. Social media, they say, has made it easy to meet people, including other nonbinary or queer people, but sometimes, "people don't commit to the connection." Face-to-face events, they say, are a more comfortable and possibly less fleeting way to make friends.

Autumn Feral, a volunteer with the Sisters, says she admires the organization's work toward building community and personal bonds, like potlucks, picnics and speed friending. "They're really breaking open the ways people can connect ... outside of dating."

Bobbi and Jenna brought baked spaghetti squash topped with Bobbi's go-to stuffed mushroom filling. The suggestion of the usual tomato sauce earns an eye roll from Jenna. "How typical," they drawl.

Like most of what's on offer, if not most of the people in the room, the squash is vegan. So are the toffee squares, and the farro and chickpea dish and the Waldorf salad. "It's part of inclusivity," says Ellie, adding that making an easy accommodation feels like a natural extension of the "underlying activism" among the crowd. Others at the table agree; it's an active choice, like reserving a venue that's wheelchair accessible.

Some people are already done eating by the time Maddie, an intern with Queer Humboldt, gets her plate. She'd taken part in other events during the week, but that evening, she jokes, she was "queering myself up before I go home." Her plan was to drive to her mother's home on Thanksgiving Day and come out to her. She says she wasn't afraid but it still felt like a big deal.

There are lots of hugs and well wishes as she makes her way out. Little by little, those remaining gather plates and dishes, and send leftovers along with whoever can use them before walking out onto the dimly lit street and heading home.

Jennifer Fumiko Cahill (she/her) is the arts and features editor at the Journal. Reach her at (707) 442-1400, extension 320, or [email protected]. Follow her on Instagram @JFumikoCahill and on Mastodon @jenniferfumikocahill.