Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, Stonewall Veteran and Legendary Trans Activist, Has Died at 78

Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, a prominent activist and influential figure in the LGBTQ+ rights movement, has passed away, as reported by the House of GG on their Facebook page. She was 78 years old.

“With deep sorrow, House of GG announces the loss of our cherished leader and revolutionary in the TLGBQ liberation movement, Miss Major Griffin-Gracy,” stated the organization wrote in a post, mentioning that she had passed away on October 13. “Her remarkable legacy reflects her strength, dedication to activism, and commitment to creating safe spaces for Black trans communities and all individuals in the trans community. We will forever cherish Miss Major’s life and her numerous contributions, as well as the love she gave to so many.”

Griffin-Gracy was hospitalized in September due to a blood clot and sepsis. She later transitioned to in-home hospice care earlier this month.

Throughout her lifetime, Griffin-Gracy made significant contributions, from advocating for individuals impacted by HIV/AIDS in the early 1980s to establishing the first mobile needle exchange in San Francisco. She was a supporter of the abolitionist movement, consistently prioritizing the needs of trans women. Much of this work was conducted in her role as executive director of the Transgender Gender-Variant & Intersex Justice Project, which she joined in 2005. In 1969, she stood against police brutality during the Stonewall Uprisings, an event widely regarded as a catalyst for the contemporary LGBTQ+ rights movement.

“The unfortunate reality was that after it happened, many Black women involved were overshadowed; we were erased from the narrative,” she reflected in a 2015 SF Weekly interview about that pivotal moment. “The gay and lesbian community seized the narrative and acted as if we didn’t even exist or were never present.”

In 2019, Griffin-Gracy established the Griffin-Gracy Educational and Historical Center, colloquially known as the House of GG. She remained active in her advocacy work as recently as August when she spoke at the Trans Equality Summit in Minneapolis. She is survived by her sons Asaiah, Christopher, and Jonathan, as well as her partner Beck Witt. Throughout her life, she took on the roles of mother and grandmother to countless trans individuals, many of whom were featured in the 2015 documentary Major!

“We must be ready to resist by any means necessary,” Griffin-Gracy expressed in a 2022 conversation with ACLU attorney Chase Strangio, sharing insights on the legislative attacks against trans individuals and youth concerning healthcare and self-determination. “They will not believe us. They continue to cling to their misconceptions, and that needs to stop. I believe that the only solution is to stand firm and resist.”

Early life

Born on October 25, 1946, in Chicago, Miss Major Griffin-Gracy was one of three children in a middle-class Catholic household. A psychic advised her mother to choose “a name of significance,” which led to her being named Major, as recounted in a 2023 profile by The Guardian. “As a child, I was always enthusiastic about everything because I perceived that every tomorrow brought new opportunities,” she said during a 2016 interview with The Outwords Archive. “Even as a teenager, I never stressed about who I would become; I was simply waiting to realize my true self as time passed.”

At the age of 12 or 13, she came out to her parents, sharing that her existence felt misaligned with her reality. “You know when something just doesn’t fit right with you,” she said in a 2015 interview with SF Weekly. Her initial response from her parents included sending her to a psychiatrist and later to church to have “the demon excised from me.” Nevertheless, during her teenage years, she began wearing her mother’s garments at home.

While studying at college in Minnesota at 17, she was expelled due to her choice of women’s attire and returned to Chicago. Her attempts to enroll in another college also ended in expulsion. Eventually, she got a part-time job as a receptionist at Mattachine Midwest, recognized as one of the city’s pioneering gay rights organizations. However, like many transfeminine individuals of her era, the most consistent employment she could find was in sex work, which often subjected her to police harassment.

In Chicago, she found community at house parties and balls, partaking in a vibrant ballroom culture tracing back to 1935. When the Jewel Box Revue performed in the city, a traveling drag and impersonation troupe she had seen as a child, she was fortunate enough to perform with them briefly. During her time in the late 1950s, she encountered her friend and mentor, Kitty, who helped her embrace her transgender identity and height. However, in 1962, she left Chicago for New York City.

“My mother tracked me down [in The Loop,] forcing me back home, telling me, ‘You cannot live this way here; Chicago is too small for the both of us,’” Major recounted in a 2017 interview for the NYC Trans Oral History Project.

Stonewall and Activism’s Turning Point

Once Major arrived in New York, the Stonewall Inn became a significant part of her life—a venue that would spark the modern Queer Liberation Movement. While in the city, she briefly worked in a hospital’s morgue but then returned to the dazzling atmosphere of the Jewel Box Revue at the Apollo Theater, alongside prominent queer and trans figures like drag king Stormé DeLarverie and ballroom mother Dorian Corey. Outside of performances, she found solace at the Stonewall, which welcomed trans patrons when many of the city’s gay bars did not.

“Stonewall was a fantastic bar, a true haven for transgender individuals,” Griffin-Gracy conveyed her sentiments to SF Weekly. “You could simply exist there without needing to clarify your identity. Friends were present, and acceptance was in the air.”

Griffin-Gracy deeply engaged with the expanding trans community in New York City, which emphasized mutual support and resource-sharing. During that era, police raids were common at places like Stonewall, often leading to violent interactions and unjust arrests.

Then came June 28, 1969—a night when the patrons, including Griffin-Gracy, reached their breaking point. As police attempted to raid the Inn, the patrons fought back, leading to an uprising commemorated today as a pivotal moment in LGBTQ+ history.

“All I knew was that suddenly, it felt like a fight for our very survival,” Griffin-Gracy recounted to SF Weekly regarding the riots that ensued.

Instead of engaging in a prolonged struggle with the police, Griffin-Gracy described her strategy as one of quick provocation to minimize severe injury—she recalled pulling a mask from a policeman’s face and spitting at him.

“He knocked me out,” she recalled. “That’s the last thing I remember. Upon waking, I found myself in a holding cell, and the next day, we were released.” The ongoing unrest at Stonewall, spanning several nights, laid the groundwork for what would become New York City’s Pride celebrations.

After the Stonewall uprisings, the death of Griffin-Gracy’s close friend Puppy marked a turning point in her activism. While authorities ruled it a suicide, Major suspected foul play, believing a client may have been responsible and that the police were indifferent to the murder of a trans woman.

“Puppy’s murder made me acutely aware that we were not safe and that if something were to happen to us, no one would care,” Griffin-Gracy reflected in an interview with A New Queer Agenda. “We always had each other, but we now understood the importance of taking action. I began to look out for myself and the other women on the street with me.”

Community and the Fight for Justice

Griffin-Gracy, renowned for her role in the Stonewall events, also dedicated her life to the movement for prison abolition. In 1970, her incarceration at Clinton Correctional Facility introduced her to Frank “Big Black” Smith, a pivotal figure in the Attica prison uprising of 1971. In Miss Major Speaks: Conversations with a Black Trans Revolutionary, a collection of oral histories compiled by her former assistant Toshio Meronek, she acknowledges him as “crucial to my political awakening.”

Griffin-Gracy and her long-term partner relocated to San Diego in 1978 after the birth of their son, Christopher. She eventually joined the San Diego AIDS Foundation as a patient liaison. As the AIDS crisis worsened and the government remained negligent, she founded Angels of Care, an initiative that organized trans women in New York and Los Angeles to assist those dying of AIDS when mainstream healthcare neglected them.

“Initially, nobody wanted to support those suffering from AIDS,” she shared with SF Weekly. “My transgender sisters stepped in to fill that void.”

Her advocacy did not wane with that health crisis; her prison experiences and her bond with Smith instilled in her a commitment to abolition that endured even as she neared retirement. Alongside Alexander Lee, she co-founded the Transgender Gender-Variant & Intersex Justice Project, which addresses the rampant transphobia in the prison system and confronts the prison-industrial complex.

“To effectively create change, it must be inclusive of everyone, or else no one will benefit,” she emphasized in a 2020 interview with Teen Vogue. “There is often a nagging worry that my community is overlooked, and it’s essential that I ensure it is not.”

Her Legacy: Prioritizing Trans Lives

Over her 78 years, Griffin-Gracy’s extensive body of work has been fundamental in shaping modern trans liberation efforts post-Stonewall. Many esteemed trans figures—such as Janet Mock, Ceyenne Doroshow, Chase Strangio, Raquel Willis, and Laverne Cox—view her as a guiding force and a revered elder. For her followers at TGIJP, she was not only an organizer but also a mother figure and spiritual guide.

“I strive to follow in the footsteps of my luminary predecessors like Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, and elders like Miss Major—advocates who fiercely defended the rights of trans individuals,” Willis remarked in 2020 for The Cut.

Her advocacy included not just public appearances and frontline action but also personal outreach through letters to incarcerated trans women, reminding them of their worth.

“When I reflect on Major, I think of the monthly calls and voice messages she would leave for me, each filled with love and support, despite the distance, reassuring me that someone believed in me and cared for me, especially during times when I may have doubted myself or felt inadequate,” Mock shared with Out in 2019. “Everyone deserves such a figure in their life, and Major has been that person for countless trans women seeking love and affirmation. She embodies the maternal love we all wish for.”

Even in her final days, amidst her declining health, Griffin-Gracy remained steadfast in her mission, asserting that trans individuals—especially Black trans women—must lead the LGBTQ+ fight, and never be relegated to an afterthought. If her legacy serves as a reminder, it is that trans lives, especially those of trans women, must always be prioritized.

“I am determined to make it clear that the T should take precedence,” Griffin-Gracy asserted to Autostraddle.