The Kitchen Helping Trans New Yorkers Celebrate the Holidays

Qween Jean’s Black Trans Liberation Kitchen brings chosen family together over a feast.

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On the evening before TransGiving, rain poured relentlessly outside the kitchen. Despite the weather, inside the building—with an unassuming brick exterior and a Black Lives Matter sign—volunteers gathered and prepared.

When I arrived, drenched and trying to figure out where to stash my wet clothes, I was immediately greeted by Gatekeeper, the vibrant chef leading the operations. Her energy was magnetic, a mix of excitement and exhaustion. She wore a tall, patterned head wrap, a black shirt under a white apron, and food service gloves, moving through the space with ease. She said they were making good time when I asked about progress—most of the heavy cooking had been done the day before. Still, she never seemed to stop moving as we spoke.

This was the fifth annual TransGiving dinner organized by Black Trans Liberation Kitchen, a New York–based mutual aid group founded by costume designer and activist Qween Jean. With a mission to end homelessness and food insecurity for the transgender community, the group provides weekly meals and hands out clothing, groceries, and other essential items. Its work is rooted in solidarity, not charity, the group told me.

This comes through powerfully during holiday gatherings like TransGiving and the Christmas celebration TransMAS, where community care, shared space, and collective uplift are on offer along with food and vital items. Along with a communal feast, TransGiving includes performances by trans artists and culture makers, turning the night into a celebration.

In November, I photographed inside the kitchen the night before TransGiving and at Judson Memorial Church on the day of the event to document how this community shows up for one another. I wanted to see the labor, love, and organizing that sustain these gatherings, from the late-night cooking to the joyous chatter among the network of volunteers. At the moment, this work is more crucial than ever. During the federal government shutdown, Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits ran dry. Now, the Trump administration is threatening to withhold the benefits from Democratic-led states again.

When I showed up the day before TransGiving, volunteers had been there for over an hour, grooving to loud pop music as each person settled into their assigned task. One peeled sweet potatoes. Another crushed breadcrumbs. Someone tended a pot of pulled pork. The liveliness in the kitchen mirrored what I would later see inside the church, the same pulse and the same devotion.

On the night of TransGiving, the church had been completely transformed. Rows of tables stretched across the space, some set for the communal meal and others for the food handout. Every path led toward the stage, where an altar honored trans icons and community members who had passed. Volunteers took their places at the stations, some returning and others experiencing TransGiving for the first time. When the doors opened, hundreds of guests poured in, serving looks worthy of a runway, reuniting with friends, and filling the room with energy.

Even within all the joy, there was a quiet grief threaded through the evening, too. The altar held the weight of those who had been lost, and remembrance lived alongside celebration. Still, the heartache never overpowered the celebration. Instead, they existed together, held by the community with an intentional tenderness. TransGiving felt like family, and like family, it held both love and loss at once. It is a deliberate choice to keep living fully in a world that tries so hard to strip away your humanity.

Preparations have already begun for TransMAS, the Christmas Eve celebration that will bring the community back to Judson Memorial Church for another night of food, performances, and winter clothing support. It’s one of the biggest nights of the year for Black Trans Liberation Kitchen, but it grows from the same weekly dinners that sustain people long after the holidays pass. Whether it is TransGiving, TransMAS, or an ordinary Wednesday, the intention remains constant: Show up. Feed people. Create a space where the Black trans community is cared for and celebrated.