‘This altar is not mine, it is ours.’
I made this altar to honor the lives and legacies of my chosen family—Marco Castro-Bojorquez and Adela Vazquez—two powerful individuals whose work continues to shape our movements for justice and liberation. This piece celebrates Trans and Queer Pride Month as well as International Sex Workers Day on June 2. But more than a celebration, it is a way for me to be with my chosen family—the people who loved, guided, and nourished me, and who showed me what it means to build other worlds grounded in peace, love, and collective care.
Adela is one of my chosen mothers—a Cuban migrant, trans woman, and one of the architects of gender-affirming sexual health infrastructure in the Bay Area. She moved with the kind of grace and urgency that only someone who has survived exclusion can carry. Marco was a brilliant artist, activist, and filmmaker who helped bridge migrant justice and LGBTQ movements. Together, we made El Canto del Colibrí, a film now housed at Sundance, which powerfully counters the racist tropes that continue to demonize families of color.
Both Adela and Marco were more than organizers—they were connectors. Their work spanned trans, LGBTQ+, migrant, drug user, and sex worker justice movements. They lived and fought so that others wouldn’t have to face the same barriers they once did as queer and trans migrants in the United States. Their lives remind us that many of our people are still being left out of the rooms where decisions are made—not because they are voiceless, but because they are deliberately excluded. We must remain committed to calling this out and making space for everyone.
The altar’s aesthetic draws from rascuache, a Chicanx/Mexican style of making beauty from what’s available—what others might discard. Every object carries a story. The stiletto was found on East 14th Street atop an abandoned building and honors sex workers and those in the trade. The candlestick was once used to harm me; its inclusion is a small act of turning pain into beauty. The black feathers symbolize San Martín de Porres, the Patron Saint of Public Health—protector of those who care for others when no one else will. Though I do not identify as Catholic, many in my community do. There is space in this altar for all of our sacred objects and stories.
This altar is not mine—it is ours. It is a collaboration made possible by the love, labor, and solidarity of my community, especially those who live and organize outside, alongside the Safer Outside Coalition.
With deep gratitude to: Arianna Salians, Rob Vial, Javier Fresquez, Chotii MaNan Eastep, Margaret Grimsley, Isidoro Tabarez, Annette Bussey, Heather, Mel, Mei, Jesus, Ricardo, Leila, Tiny, Freeway, Rebecca, Jenny, John, Kelsey, Sathya, Eri, Selene, Junior, Bunny—and a special shout out to Duvoy Melbourne, Philip Colton, Princess Atl, Bamby Salcedo, Reyna, Luis de la Garza, Jen Silva, Ashley Breck, Mama D, Jesse Johnson, Estrella, Pastor Tom, Reverend Kelly, Erin Gray, Lea McGeever, Neto, Lon Torres, George O, Joanna, Pedro, Raymond, Mei, Frank, Ralfka Gonzalez, Laura Thomas, Renia Webb, Lexi Adsit, Kerby Lynch, Ray Klauber, Angel Rodriguez, and everyone who believes in something greater than themselves. Eternal thanks to April September for loving like no one else.You can see more of her work here.
And thank you to the two people who brought me into this world: Ricardo Hernandez Sr. and Selene Leon of Guanajuato, México.
Reina de Aztlán is a 34-year-old transchicana cultural worker and organizer from Decoto and a resident of East Oakland. She has lived experience in the sex trade, incarceration, poverty, and housing instability. She believes in the power of sacred resistance and community care. Follow our work @saferoutside and @transnavegando on Instagram, or email us at saferoutsid3@gmail.com to get involved.