12 June 26 - July 2, 2025 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents T he Dallas arts scene can feel like a small town. All too often, you have the same old conversations with the same old faces, over and over again. That’s why when you meet someone like Elliot Hazel, you remember it. When he arrived in Dallas last summer, he immediately im- mersed himself in the local scene through concert photography, homemade zines and an efferves- cent personality that reverberates throughout. In just a year, Hazel found com- munity in Dallas through the high- light reels of many a late-night show and morning coffee runs. As quickly as he seemed to find roots taking shape, though, Hazel, a trans man, found himself eager to follow a migration of trans people leaving Texas for bluer pastures. Redirects like Hazel’s have be- come all too common among the LGBTQ+ community in recent years. In 2023, we reported on a Plano-based realty group that launched an initiative called “Flee Red States” to help LGBTQ+ peo- ple sell their homes and find new housing elsewhere. At the time, Brianna Hurley, the mother of a transgender child, told us she de- cided to leave in 2022 after a local school district began to enforce “Don’t Say Gay” anti-trans rules for sports and bathroom use. Since then, the 89th Texas Legislature came to a close on June 2, prop- ping up more anti-LGBTQ+ bills in its ruins, and leaving Hazel to face the reality of his now-shifted fu- ture in a state like Texas.. “You really have to assess the value of what’s gonna actually af- fect your life and what isn’t,” Hazel says. “Someone going home and making a comment is not gonna af- fect my life. But me shutting myself down, making myself feel small and compact and digestible, that’s gonna hurt me 10 billion times more.” In his experience, the latter came true far too often. “If I apply as a trans person, I’ve noticed that I won’t get calls back for interviews for those jobs,” he says. “But if I apply under my dead name, I will.” After finally landing a job using a résumé with he/him pronouns, Hazel says that his identity was disregarded as he was referred to with she/her pronouns, even after telling management that was happening. There lies an uncomfortable quandary of daily life as a trans person. For many, though, packing up and leaving is a months or even years-long process. Hazel wants to escape environments where his existence is a wound constantly salted with neglect, but he can’t afford to without saving up. In the meantime, he finds community in the city’s underground arts and music scene. “I feel like it’s known that if you are in that counterculture area, you are in the fight with us,” he says. “To have that space where I can fully express myself and make art about being myself ties it all together. It’s a very sacred space for me, especially Denton ... it’s nice to have those little pock- ets of space, because you get into [rural ar- eas] and stop at a gas station, and people are looking at you crazy-eyed. But then you go to Denton and you look like everybody else there.” Searching for a Safe Haven Hazel is far from the only trans person to cite Denton as a haven. Julia Ava W Boehme is a trans woman and musician who fronts the psych rock band Starfruit. She’s lived in North Texas for her entire life but has seen her social bandwidth change in recent years. “Over the past several years, especially since COVID, I felt a lack of support and community,” she says. “Now, it’s kind of whittled down to that I [only] feel [commu- nity] like that in Rubber Gloves.” She’s referring to the long-standing Den- ton music venue, which has been a hub for the LGBTQ+ community and alternative music scene. “There’s other venues that are supportive and good,” she says. “But that’s kind of the only place where I see other trans people, and that’s where a feeling of safety comes from. It’s not just the venue or the people running the venue, but the people who are there.” By November, Boehme is set to move to Philadelphia, after a visit to the city with her partner came as a wake-up call. “I was just noticing how much more free we feel and how different my interactions with strangers are,” she says. “I love Texas a lot. I love the land and how it feels to be here in an environmental sense. But in a social sense, it’s horrible. This has been a really hard decision to make.” As a lifelong resident, Boehme has no- ticed a cultural shift. She says opportunities for connection with the average North Texan have thinned out. “I don’t really know that they’ve gotten worse, but the ones that are good have gotten less frequent,” she says. “There’s just less and less opportunities to be part of a community. I mean, that is partially due to people moving away, but it’s also due to the city of Dallas specifically just isn’t looking out for us.” For those like Boehme, who have only ever known Texas as their home, it’s a harsh reality to reckon with, but she has found sol- ace in knowing there is a way to find com- munity again. “I’ve known trans people who have moved away, and that’s like a bea- con of hope for me,” she says. You can live in a place where you thrive and where people celebrate you.” A trans man named Logan B. shines a light from a beacon similar to Boehme’s vision. He moved from Dallas to Aurora, Colorado, in 2023. “I was one of the earlier ones to get the hell out of dodge,” he says. “In 2021, Ken Paxton basically de- manded of the DMV a list of all people who had changed the gen- der marker on their driver’s li- cense. That was the ‘we have to leave’ [moment]. If they’re gather- ing lists of us, there’s something going on.” Logan got the idea for moving to Aurora specifically from a blog post by trans journalist Erin Reed. Reed publishes an annual “anti- trans risk assessment map” based on state legislation. From the chart, he was split between California, Colorado and Illinois. “We have a way out, and it is moving to another state where you will be supported,” he says. “That is unfortunate, and I honestly do hope that things can shift in Texas. But looking at the legislation that has been passed and what they’re trying to get passed, it’s not ideal.” Law of Defection The recently ended Texas legisla- tive session had numerous pro- posed bills that would target LGBTQ+ Texans. Not all passed, but Equality Texas, a statewide nonprofit for LGBTQ+ rights, identified six that did as “Anti-LG- BTQIA+ legislation.” Among them is House Bill 1257, which Gov. Greg Abbott signed and will become law on Sept. 1. The bill states that any insurance company offering coverage for gender-af- firming care must also cover fees if the per- son decides to detransition. Despite a low rate of detransitions, many worry the law will push health insurance companies to end gender-affirming coverage altogether. Texas House Bill 229 and Senate Bill 1188 both seek to define male and female under strictly biological terms. The bills are of par- ticular concern for trans Texans, who see the move as an attempt to erase their exis- tence. One trans woman, Sachiel, didn’t mince words regarding the legislation. “This is stage one of genocide,” she says. “I think they’re using trans people ▼ Culture RAINBOW ROAD The Legislature ends another session with LGBTQ+ hate, and trans people are again fleeing the Lone Star State. What happens next? BY SIMON PRUITT >> p14 Adrián A. Astorgano
