Miss Major Griffin-Gracy (1940s–2025) was a matriarch of trans liberation—a truth-teller who turned surviving into strategy and care into power. Her passing this week leaves a gap in our movement. What we lost in flesh, we still carry forward in spirit.

A Life of Resistance and Radical Care

From Chicago, to New York, to the South, Miss Major’s journey was forged in struggle. As a teenage trans youth, she faced rejection, psychiatric institutionalization, familial violence. She survived jail, police brutality, and the erasure that comes when a movement forgets its roots. 

She was at Stonewall. She fought back. She was beaten. She was jailed. But she never bowed. 

She became a living bridge: between the early queer liberation movements and the trans justice movement. She tended to people’s bodies, to their wounds, to their souls. She founded House of gg (later known as Tilifi), a sanctuary, a gathering place, a place of rest and reclamation. 

Her advocacy extended especially to Black trans women, incarcerated trans people, sex workers, those on the margins. She railed against systems that kill us quietly. She demanded that trans lives—not just queer ones—be centered. 

One of her rallying cries:

“T should have been first.” 

She reminded the LGBTQ+ movement that leaving trans people last in the struggle is betrayal.

Why Her Passing Must Shake Us Awake

Too many queer histories read like this: name the gay men, the lesbian voices, the same roster of heroes. But silently, persistently, trans people—especially trans women of color—were sidelined, silenced, erased, tokenized, asked to live in the shadows so that the majority could center themselves. Miss Major spent her life kneading that exclusion into consciousness.

The gay rights movement—to a great extent—was built on the backs of trans femmes, but often refused to carry them forward. It’s time we do better. All of us must carry forward not just gay rights, but trans justice, with trans lives at the center.

Miss Major’s passing is not just a moment to mourn, but a moment to recommit. To demand representation, leadership, power, protection, care, visibility—for trans people, especially Black trans women, trans youth, incarcerated trans folks.

A Tribute from the Heart

Here in The Shoulders We Stand On, we honor Miss Major not as a relic, but as an ancestor. Her spirit demands more from us:

• To decolonize queer spaces of cis supremacy
• To demand trans-led institutions and decision-making
• To protect trans youth, to build safe spaces, to fund trans liberation
• To show up for our trans siblings when violence, apathy, illness, or erasure come knocking
• To speak her name, loudly, always

Miss Major didn’t just survive—she insisted we all survive. She showed how to make joy when the world said we shouldn’t. As she put it: “I’m still fucking here.” 

We are still here too. Because of her. Because we must be.

Keep Learning, Keep Moving

Honor Miss Major by studying her work and following the organizations she lifted:

• Transgender, Gender-Variant & Intersex Justice Project (TGIJP)
• House of gg (The Griffin-Gracy Educational Retreat & Historical Center)
• MAJOR! (2015) – documentary
• Miss Major Speaks (with Toshio Meronek)
• Obituary coverage – The Guardian
• Obituary coverage – Vogue
• Obituary coverage – them.

A Promise, Not a Postscript

Miss Major taught us that visibility without safety is a trap, and inclusion without power is a lie. We don’t need better slogans. We need better outcomes—for all of us. May we be stubborn, loving, and loud in the ways she modeled. May our work make it impossible to ignore trans life ever again.