Fossil Free Future, Man Camps and Ru Paul: A Two Spirited Restoration

October 13, 2021

Violence and murder are experienced at a higher rate within indigenous communities than any other demographic in North America. These harms disproportionately affect women and the LGBTQ+ community much of which goes unreported.

Although an undeniable human issue, the root of these injustices can be tied directly back to the issue of climate change. Banks, big oil, and the financing of pipeline projects on indigenous lands breeds these atrocities by displacing folks and setting up “man camps” perpetuating violence and leaving those living on reservations most vulnerable to abuse.

Interview by Maxwell Vice

Text by Ronald Kahihikolo and Maxwell Vice
Photography by Carlos Jaramilo
Model Thomas Lopez
Creative Directing and Styling by Marcus Correa
Photo Assist Todd Midler
Style Assist Alexander Abola
Hair by Mya Michon
Make Up by Susana Niño

In a post covid world where we learned how to be accountable for how we keep Black and Queer people safe, there is still an overlooked American Pandemic at the surface: The Climate Crisis. Up until this interview with Water Protector, Climate Activist and Co Founder of the Int'l Indigenous Youth Council (IIYC), Thomas Lopez, Maxwell never knew how even fundamentally BIPOC companies profit off of the climate crisis, and the destruction the fossil fuel industry brings to Indigenous communities.

Why is it that the media holds such little data on the crimes that happen in these spaces? Why do celebrities involved in the oil fracking industry keep so quiet on exactly who they are willing to harm? Even in an era where protesting is ‘trending’, where are the articles on the daily fights of climate activists on Indigenous lands? It's a hard truth to swallow, but as Thomas explains, “In order for America to exist, Indigenous people had to be removed.” and after their conversation, Maxwell realized how strategic the states have been in making sure these stories are forgotten.

Indigenous Peoples Day was on October 11 and it kicked off “ People VS Fossil Fuels “, a week of action leading up to October 29 when young people globally will be taking to the streets for a Fossil Free Future. Maxwell Vice sat down with Two-Spirit leader Thomas Lopez about Climate Activism, the fossil fuel industry, and well-respected names supporting the Climate Crisis.

The vast majority of mainstream media has turned a blind eye to this harm and the communities it affects, Climate Activist Thomas Lopez has remained as a consistent voice speaking on these injustices. The intention of this piece and the photos that coincide with it is to illustrate the beauty, strength and, resilience of queer indigenous communities in the face of these atrocities.

The shoot features Lopez in 2 looks both connected by a predominant use of the color red, the official color of the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women Movement (MMIW).

Check out the interview and editorial below.

Maxwell 一 Hi, is this Thomas?

Thomas 一 Yes it is! Is this Maxwell or Vice? Not sure which name you go by...

M 一 Vice is my last name so everyone calls me that, makes me sound a lot scarier than I am Ahah. I talked to Marcus Correa who casted me for the Willy Chavarria show about you and your work. He showed me these beautiful images he curated for you. How long ago were these pictures taken?

T 一 We shot them in April 2021 so a few months ago. We’ve just been trying to find the right place to showcase them. Me and Marcus are like cousins. We grew up together being little hood kids, now we are working on this climate finance campaign together. We both grew up in Denver so we always had a mix of urban and Indigenous cultures in our lives.

M 一 I don't get to really meet any Central-American or Indigenous people in the industry, yet alone get a chance to interview them so I’m honored. I wanted to ask if you could explain to the Readers, what is Climate Activism? For those who may not be aware of what these activists do.

T 一I can! I can even tie it right back to pop culture and the industry too, because it impacts everything. As Indigenous people, caring for the earth is not something separate of self. We’re raised knowing that the earth is not an endless resource but a sacred source of life. It wasn't until the Standing Rock uprising of 2016 where I began to hear the terms “Water Protector,” “Land Defender,” and “Climate Activist” which is a person who works towards healing the earth from the harm we’ve already caused. This can be done in many different ways. For example, Marcus and I work on a campaign that goes after the banks and financial institutions that are upholding the Fossil Fuel Industries. Others feel there is a more direct way of interfering with these systems, but ultimately a Climate Activist is someone who works towards protecting the health and wellness of land, water, and air for the next seven generations.

M 一 I’ve never personally met someone who was involved in Standing Rock, and I can't imagine the resilience it takes to be on those frontlines. During the BLM protests I personally saw many correlations to how the state treats those with rights to land, and I found that in both instances the front lining protestors were always brown women or brown queer people. I know there's a lack of protection over queer and femme folk in these spaces, and I could imagine its no different for the Indigenous communities. Could you talk about the navigation of these kinds of people in your community?

T 一 Before going into the gender issues in Indigenous communities, you have to know who I am. It gives more context to what I do and the navigation I have in these spaces. I am Otomi and Sicangu Lakota; I also identify as Xicano. I am a Grandchild of Chief of Chiefs Leonard Crowdog Sr. He passed away in June 2021. He was a big influence in my life and to the community internationally as he played a really heavy role in the American Indian Movement (AIM) in the 1960’s-the 1970s and I am a resulting generation of his life’s work. Growing up my Father was a Sundance Chief, and my Mother was a Water Woman. They are both highly respected amongst the Xicano and Lakota communities, so growing up I had a very different experience than a lot of the other Queer, Trans, and Two-Spirited people for the simple fact that... No one was going to come fucking with my parents. Do you know what I mean? *laughs*

M 一 Right! Don’t come fucking with the fam before the fam comes fucking with you! *laughs*

T 一 Exactly! You don't disrespect people’s children, you just don't. And my parents always supported me and had my back. One thing people don’t always realize is that Indigenous communities are often their own sovereign nations and we have a lot of respect for our chiefs and elders, so I always felt protected by that. I can't say however that it is the same experience every Two-Spirit person gets in the communities. Yes, we live in 2021, but the way many tribes operate is still very patriarchal and that comes with the lack of protection for femmes and queer people. To be honest, most Two-Spirit people are often aggressively erased from the community. Growing up on the Rez (reservations), it can be very dangerous for Trans or Two-Spirit people. A lot of us get abused, go missing or get murdered. Nothing is really done because no one is acknowledging that these people exist within these communities, and if you don't “exist” how can we possibly get data on these altercations to prevent them from happening? Government assistance is provided based on data, if there is no data then the state won't provide the resources needed to help. That's why it's been such a prolonged, unseen problem because no one is documenting us; no one writes about us. There is no data to support how many of us are truly affected. That's what we face in our communities, this is why I do what I do.

M 一 As a young nonbinary person I don't often get to meet any elders who have made progression not only in their community but within their identities. How is it like being given a space to be a Two-Spirited person among such a sacred space?

T 一 I’m almost 30 years old and in just 10 years the culture has changed drastically. To see how free and open it’s becoming for people like us to exist is amazing but I still see a gap. I still see this LGBTQ+ community that is supposedly supposed to represent the people and I don't see myself reflected. I don't see a space made for me or people like me being talked about. We’ve been doing what you call “Climate Activism,'' for thousands of years. We are the original caretakers of this land, and to be erased perpetuates a genocide that started 500 years ago.

M 一Why do you think it's so easy for people to overlook the Indigenous communities? It seems like it's something the media is not willing to discuss, and are purposefully being pushed out of the conversation? We learned so much on how to uplift and protect black people in 2020, and I find no one wants to apply that aid and equity to Indigenous communities and it personally really upsets me. They tend to put these man camps near BIPOC communities. These camps tend to be predominantly large groups of men with no one to regulate them, resulting in the abusive sex trade. This isn’t speculation, this is factual, and that is why once these camps pop up femme, trans, and black folks go missing. Often we speak for our Missing and Murdered Indigenous Peoples but Black women and girls are also targeted but with no way to regulate these camps those bodies usually get forgotten. It isn't just Indigenous women, you know? These are sensitive communities full of more than just us, but we are all absorbed under the affected umbrella.

T 一 Well, I know that in order for America to exist, Indigenous peoples and tribes had to be removed. The very essence of American culture is in fact forced removal and genocide. As much as it shocks us and makes us angry, it’s as American as apple pie, we're just seeing what it looks like 500 years later. It may seem passive, but it's still as violent in nature. The biggest issue as to why no one speaks on Indigenous issues is because people don't know the true history. Simple; no one knows the truth about the land they’ve come to call home, and what really went down for so many of us to have the “freedoms” we have. That lack of self-awareness is ultimately what leads to our erasure yet it's hard to get mad at people for not knowing something they never had an option to explore.

M 一 Why is it important that Indigenous people have ownership of the land? Some people don't understand the role of a land caretaker so could you elaborate on that?

T 一 There are frontline blockades and fights happening all over North, Central, and South America. At one point about 20 Indigenous people were being killed a month over protecting their homes against some type of resource extractive industry. So, when we look at this it's not just pipelines, you know? It's the culture of over-extracting. We are taking too much from the earth and we are not giving her enough time to recover. This is our greatest downfall, we have already done things to the earth that we can't reverse but there is hope. Indigenous people make up 5% of the world's population. We manage 22% of the land around the world while 80% of the planet's biodiversity exists in the land we are caretakers. People who've had connections to this land for thousands of years know how to tend to it however not even we can own the land. Rather, the land owns us.

M 一 It seems like you've had to be the ones to share a lot of information most people don't have access to, which is an amazing job you've taken over. What is one thing that keeps getting written out of the media that you wished was talked about? You deserve ownership over your words so talk your shit!

T 一 I'm not going to talk shit but there are conversations that have yet to be had within our own communities. One of those conversations being where our dollars are spent and who we choose to uplift in pop culture and media. Even one of the most beloved and profound leaders of the LGBTQ+ community has ties to the oil industry and that’s Ru Paul

M 一 Rupaul

T 一 Yes! *laughs* Ru Paul owns a fucking fracking ranch on stolen land in so-called Wyoming. It's a plot of land he leases the mineral rights to oil companies for oil extraction. By assumption, because I have no facts on this, one of our favorite Ru Paul productions is brought to you by BIG OIL, and still, crickets… Nothing, not even a conversation as to why she’s chosen profits over people.

M 一 I remember seeing that meme of Ru’s fracking, but honestly I wasn't too familiar with what it was so it kind of escaped my mind. All I knew is that everyone was afraid to talk about it, so I’m glad someone finally brought it up.

T 一 The sad thing is, when you have fracking ranches or oil pipelines, in order to build and maintain them they often build man camps. It’s not just buying a drill and digging one big hole into a mountain, corporations come in and construct hundreds of fracking wells and extract oil from deep beneath to topsoil which completely destroys the land, air, and freshwater tables.

M 一 These are literal camps of male workers?

T 一 Yes. They go work on the pipeline or the fracking well that day and they come “home” to our communities. They'll stay in these camps for weeks at a time. The data right now only shows that of Missing and Murdered cis Women and Girls. Any data on Trans & Two-Spirit people does not exist, yet. So with that, Rupaul is directly supporting a system that is kidnapping and murdering Trans and Two-Spirit people by leasing his ranch’s mineral rights for fracking. I’ve never seen a queer Black person, in the public eye be adored as much as Rupaul; and I have a love for the way she put our people on that platform, but it breaks my heart that Mama Ru won’t even have these conversations on how she takes part in the oppression of our people. It's something I couldn't bite my tongue on. This generation has a huge opportunity to influence someone who has a stake and large investment in the fossil fuel industry, and it’s our responsibility to hold our leaders accountable.

M 一 It’s unfortunate that even some of our Queer leaders can become seduced by the fossil fuel industry, and would even be willing to ignore how it directly affects the same people they’re supposed to lead. What do you have to say, as a two-spirited leader, to any queer youth reading this?

T 一 I just want our Trans and Two-Spirit youth to know you can exist in any form you choose. We have a right to be safe in our homelands. We have a right to be safe during our ceremonies. We deserve to be more than silent. At one point Two-Spirit people were regarded with admiration and respect. We were chiefs, warriors, and healers; we played important roles within our communities. It’s time that we reclaim that power and identify those roles. We are still here and the world deserves to see our light.

M 一 Last questions I have, what resources are there for people who want to educate themselves on how to support indigenous communities and fight the climate crisis?

T 一Any young QT BIPOC interested in organizing with more Indigenous youth can go to the International Indigenous Youth Council by visiting www.indigenousyouth.org. The IIYC is completely run by young QT BIPOC and we have chapters in different cities you can link with. Very specifically, I work with the Denver chapter (@iiyc580). I also invite folks to mobilize with young people globally on October 29 as we hit the streets to demand a Fossil Free Future!

You can get involved and organize locally by visiting FossilFreeFuture.earth!

Aside from that, my Instagram is always a place folks can engage with the movement beyond Indigenous Peoples Day.

A’ho Mitakuye Oyasin - All My Relations

Culture

The Club Is Coming to the Stage

We enter and make our way to what is approximately front left of the DJ booth, where we’re accustomed to dancing at clubs in New York. “So is this a techno club or a dance performance?” yells an uncertain participant in my boyfriend’s ear. He laughs, bouncing along to Ben UFO, and yells back, “It’s both!” The club has long been a hot topic in European contemporary dance but it is only now making its way into New York performance venues, largely through transatlantic tours. R.O.S.E. follows recent examples like Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1 (May 2024), (LA)HORDE’s Room with a View at NYU Skirball (October 2023), and Gisèle Vienne’s Crowd at BAM (October 2022).

Do these performances compromise the club’s spirit — a space idealized for its anonymity, dark lighting, and thundering music? The notion of the club as a utopian escape is admittedly just that — an ideal — because of how its intense conditions can create barriers to entry. Still, the club remains sacred for many, a place to forge connections and embrace an alternative state of being. Looking at how performances transfer this spirit to new settings reveals what aspects of the club are essential and those that aren’t.

Sharon Eyal, R.O.S.E. 2024. Photography by Stephanie Berger, courtesy of Park Avenue Armory.

Eyal’s dancers make their entrance. The lighting shifts from roving blue to yellow spotlights as Ben UFO’s tracks transition to more melodic beats. Clad in deconstructed lace Dior lingerie with dark red tears painted on their faces, the dancers move cautiously in a tightly maintained pack, slicing paths through the horde with hoof-like steps and jerky leg extensions. After around ten minutes of this controlled choreography, the dancers vanish as the lighting shifts back to blue and Ben UFO picks up his dubby beats. The club, as we knew it, resumes. This cycle of tightly executed movements and free-flowing club-goers repeats several times, each time emboldening the dancers to plunge further into the crowd.

Clubbing in a building once built for the U.S. Army National Guard on Manhattan’s Upper East Side turns out to be surprisingly successful — at least for the audience. What starts as an awkward, scattered group searching for their non existent seats gradually gels into an engaged, bouncing crowd that erupts in cheers each time the dancers enter and exit. Performance patrons who might never step foot in a club find themselves swept up in its potential for communion, moving in unison with fellow ticket holders. But it isn’t until the very end of R.O.S.E. that the dancers finally break free from Eyal’s choreography and join the fired-up audience in a brief moment of improvisatory movement with the music. By keeping her dancers at arm’s length, Eyal seems more interested in the club as a backdrop for her signature movement style than wholly as a space with meaningful stories to be told.

Michele Rizzo, HIGHER xtn. 2024. Photography by Cameron Kelly courtesy of MoMA PS1.

Back in May, I attended Wire Festival, a multiday electronic music event at Knockdown Center that had no shortage of organically united dancefloors. It attracted a crowd of seasoned ravers who were eager to celebrate the start of spring as they danced alongside DJs who played well into the daylight. I left Wire in an afternoon daze to see Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1. My sleepless euphoria only deepened as the performance unfolded, starting with a lone dancer who looked plucked out of the festival.

The dancer, dressed in sneakers, baggy jeans, and a tight tank top, shuffled slowly into the gallery, perfectly in sync with the looping bars of an understated electronic melody. Soon, other dancers, clad in the same staple rave uniform, joined him — each having traveled from Europe for the U.S. museum debut of HIGHER xtn., which premiered at the Stedelijk in Amsterdam in 2018 and quickly became a fixture at kunsthalles and festivals across the continent. As the score’s tempo climbed, the choreography locked into a 16-count sequence, which the dancers executed with precise synchrony. They remained intensely focused, never making eye contact with each other, as they sought release in the endless repetition of synthesized beats. Once the dancers reached their limit, they stopped the sequence and exited the gallery, one by one.

HIGHER xtn. used the focused daylight of the gallery to highlight the meditative release found in the repetitive movements that dominate dark dancefloors. The performance’s restraint brought more consistency and intentionality than Eyal’s all-encompassing club construction in R.O.S.E. Yet both performances offer enticing entry points into club culture for those who may not frequent raves. Rizzo’s ecstatic, hypnotic repetitions reveal how the club can mirror other meditative practices, while Eyal’s interpolation of performance and clubbing helped hesitant audience members blossom by the end. Still, both works overlook one of the most underappreciated aspects of clubbing — its potential for individual expression. HIGHER xtn.’s pristine uniformity especially risks promoting the outdated techno trope that there’s a “right” way to dance to electronic music.

Maybe this shortcoming is, in fact, a benefit. For habitual ravers jaded by one too many sunrise sets, it’s a reminder to return to the club with more intention. If you pause and peer through the darkness, you’ll see hundreds of people moving to the same beat, each with their own subtle variations. This collective choreography is a ready-made spectacle that doesn’t need validation in a theater or museum. And when the music shifts slightly, you can watch the ripple effect sweep through the crowd while feeling the new beat in your body. Maybe this small bit of magic is best left on the dance floor.

Culture

Real Slick, Jack: Psyche Organic Arrives in New York

Shop Psyche Organic at Happier Grocery and Dimes. Coming soon to @citarellagourmetmarket @unionmarket @gourmetgarage @deciccos @fairwaymarket plus many more.

Culture

Porsche SCOPES Brings Art, Music, and Design to Toronto

The festival was a full immersion into Toronto’s dynamic creative energy. Day one set the tone with DJ collective Living Room, followed by an experimental performance by Claire Rousay that captivated the crowd. Jewelry designer Steff Eleoff unveiled her Porsche Taycan 4S art car installation—a bold fusion of automotive and wearable art inspired by her Sedona ring—while OVO Sound’s Naomi Sharon and DVSN wrapped up the night with powerful, genre-defying performances.

We witnessed SCOPES Toronto bridging underground and mainstream with day two’s lineup. DJ Korea Town Acid’s set paved the way for Angelphroot and Dameer’s debut of BASSMATI, a track blending South Asian influences with bass-driven sounds. Chippy Nonstop’s return to Toronto and Richie Hawtin’s extended set were milestones of the evening, proving that the city’s underground scene has a global resonance.

The final day featured standout performances from local pianist Harrison, Indigenous artist Tia Wood, and hip-hop visionary Sean Leon, who elevated his set with a live choir. Moonshine Collective’s film and musical performance explored themes of African utopia, showcasing art’s power to bridge culture and technology. Rising Toronto star SadBoi, who paused her tour to perform at SCOPES, further underscored the festival’s commitment to nurturing local talent.

Throughout the weekend, we experienced installations from artists like Mitsu Mitsu and culinary creations from Bar Mordecai, capturing the multifaceted creativity Porsche SCOPES brought to Toronto. This milestone 10th edition, open to all, allowed Toronto’s vibrant arts scene to thrive, underscoring SCOPES’ mission to celebrate local talent while connecting it to a global audience.

office had the chance to connect with rising star SadBoi ahead of the event. In our conversation, she shared insights into her creative journey and reflected on what performing and growing up in Toronto means to her and her work.

How are you, and where are you at right now? You told me you were traveling.

Um, I’m good, I’m feeling really good right now. I’m traveling back to Salt Lake City. I had a show yesterday in Seattle. I’m on tour right now with Coco and Claire.

How is touring life treating you? Do you like it?

I love being on the road. To be honest, I feel like I don’t know—like I’ve had good experiences and bad ones—but this time it’s really fun, especially with the people I’m surrounded by. It’s also the longest tour I’ve been on; I have about four more weeks to go. I’m trying not to think about how many days I have left.

Do you feel homesick?

Yes, because when I start thinking about how many days are left, I start to miss my dogs. I’ve just been trying to stay in the moment—I don’t even know what day of the week it is, to be honest with you.

Oh, sweet! What are your dogs’ names?

Jillian and Winston. I know, they’re crazy names.

You’ll be performing at SCOPES in Toronto, which is where you grew up. Do you feel like the crowd is different when you perform in Toronto compared to other cities?

Yes, I mean, Toronto just feels different because it’s home. Every time I come back to perform, something in my career has changed. The last time I performed in Toronto, people just wanted to have a good time, and I’m excited to perform back home again to see everyone’s reactions. I know it’s going to be different from the last time. It’s exciting to see your own growth. Toronto is a tough crowd, though. If we’re with you, we’re really with you.

So, they’re super picky? You have to gain their respect, or what is it?

I think Toronto people are in their own world, but when something really connects with them, they’ll lose themselves in the moment. But it takes something to bring them out of that. Toronto crowds are tough because even if they like you, they won’t show it outright until they’re really vibing with you.

It’s like a vibe check, right?

Exactly. They’ll enjoy your performance, but it’s hard to explain. When people visit Toronto, they often say, “Oh, you guys are so nice,” and I’m like, “I don’t think we’re that nice, we’re just polite.” Like, you can walk down the street, and no one will say anything, but it’s just our mannerisms.

You mentioned Toronto can have a moody energy, especially at night, and that the underground night scene there really inspires you. Can you talk more about what makes Toronto's nightlife so influential for you?

Absolutely, Toronto has this unique energy that comes alive at night. Similar to New York, there are the popular clubs everyone knows, but you need to find your niche—the people who know where the real parties are. I remember going to raves in high school yards, sneaking in because I wasn’t old enough. Events like Baby, Jerk!, and Yes Yes Y’all were pivotal, exposing me to DJs blending dancehall with EDM—something I hadn’t seen before. Toronto nightlife is moody and intense, but when everyone’s out, it’s like the whole city is alive.