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Thanks, Mama: Remembering Miss Major

  • Ren Q. Dawe (he/they)
  • 5 days ago
  • 2 min read

Updated: 4 days ago

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“I didn’t set out to be an activist. I set out to live.”


Born in Chicago in the 1940s, Miss Major grew up knowing she was different. When her mother wasn’t home, she’d try on her clothes and imagine a life where she could just be herself. By the time she was a teenager, she knew she was a woman. That truth cost her more than it should have. She was expelled from school, rejected by family, and pushed out of nearly every system that should have protected her.


In New York City, she found her people. She performed in drag shows, was deeply ingratiated in sex work and its culture, and built community among those living on the edges. When police raided the Stonewall Inn in 1969, she was there. What came to be called the start of the LGBTQ+ rights movement was, for her, another night of fighting to stay alive.


Miss Major spent time in prison, where she met people who helped shape her understanding of justice. When she got out, she transformed her pain into purpose. “Mama Major” aided countless trans people in NYC and around the country, creating visibility and community care where there was none. She fought during the AIDS crisis, brought HIV prevention to the streets, and stood by those forgotten by most. Usually doing on-the-ground work to help LGBTQ+ folks with basic needs assistance, she also advocated for better gender and racial representation in national LGBTQ+ advocacy organizations way before diversity considerations were ever in corporate executives’ minds. 


Later, as part of the TGI Justice Project, she focused on the rights of trans people in prison. She visited regularly, wrote letters, and made sure people knew they weren’t alone. 


“We’re all we’ve got. So if we don’t take care of each other, who the hell will?” 


She spent her final years in Arkansas with her partner, Beck, and their child, Asiah. She died on October 13, 2025, after a lifetime of raising hell and raising us up.


As a trans activist and performer, it was a joy getting to look back at Miss Major’s life through books, documentaries, and first-person accounts. When the world feels heavy and hope feels far, looking to our predecessors in this movement helps me remember that survival is an act of love, and is indomitable even in the darkest of times. 


“The girls like me who survived, we did it together. We didn’t wait for permission…I want us to live long enough to get old and cranky. That’s liberation.”


Thanks Mama, for everything, we’ll take it from here.  


Learn more about Miss Major’s life and legacy:


 
 
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