The Hive Dispatch
Issue No. 1 | March 2026
I. The Gathering
Welcome to the first swarm. To be us in this moment is to be a living, breathing site of resistance. It is a sketch drawn in charcoal and stubborn hope. We are growing a home for ourselves out of the very soil they've intended for our silence. This isn’t just a newsletter; it’s a collective map of where we’ve been, where the wind is coldest, and where the light finally breaks through the trees.
II. The Ancestors: A Survival Pact
For our first deep dive into the archives, I wanted to look at the spirits who taught us how to tend the flame. Long before the modern world of offices and non-profits, there was STAR.
In 1970, Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson realized the "Gay Power" movement was already starting to leave the street youth behind. They formed the Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries. STAR was not founded as a social club, but was scratched in concrete as a survival pact. They founded the STAR House in New York City, the first shelter of its kind.
Sylvia and Marsha would "hustle" the pavement to pay the rent for the "children" so the younger generation wouldn't have to. They were influenced by the BlackPanther Party, understanding that liberation is tied to bread, stable ground, and the end of the police baton. They practiced a "hive" mentality long before I ever put that term to paper. They were "friends of Dorothy" who refused to be "respectable" for a seat at a table that wasn't built for them.
III. The War of Definitions: A Legislative Watch
There is a strange, cold alchemy happening in the marble halls of our state capitals this March. Across 42 states, more than 700 bills have been laid out like fences across a landscape that belongs to everyone.
The Erasure of Names: The most invasive trend is the rise of "Sex Definition" laws. In places like Kansas, they are trying to pin "sex" to a static, narrow point at birth. They commit a linguistic exorcism meant to vaporize our legal existence.
A Breath of Wind: But the wind shifted this week. A federal judge blocked the "Kennedy Declaration," which sought to starve our clinics of the funding that keeps us whole. It was a moment where the hive held the line.
The Horizon: As the spring thaw begins, the Supreme Court looms. They are trying to build a cage out of definitions, but they forget one thing: we have always lived in the wide, open spaces between their lines.
IV. The Writing Desk: A Song for the Swarm
The weight of a struggle shouldn't rest on a single shoulder. We are a collective, a steady hum of persistent being. Here is how we pick up the tools this week.
1. The Art of the Call
Your voice is a physical vibration entering a room where they have tried to settle into a comfortable quiet.
The Contact: Call (202) 224-3121.
The Verse: Tell your Senator that Title IX is a promise, not a suggestion. "I am a constituent, and I am a person of consequence. My rights are not up for debate."
2. Letters to the Future
Writing a letter is an act of creation; you are building a bridge to a younger version of ourselves.
Point of Pride: Send a "Message of Support" to be tucked into a binder or a care package. Let them know the journey is beautiful. pointofpride.org/letter-writing
Gender Justice (#LoveLetters): Submit a digital "Love Letter" to be amplified to youth in the South and the rural Midwest. ourtranstruth.org/love-letters
Campaign for Southern Equality: Share a note for a parent or a child in the rural stretches navigating the loss of care. southernequality.org/sendsupport
V. The Gold at the End of the Road: Community Joy
Joy is not a distraction, it is the destination. If we are growing a resistance, joy is the sun that feeds our garden.
The Resurrection of Ballroom: In the Midwest, the ballroom scene is a renaissance. At the "First Frost Ball" in Indianapolis, 200 youth walked for "Trans Excellence." Seeing a nineteen-year-old kid from a quiet country town walk with the confidence of a monarch is a reminder; they cannot legislate away grace.
The Garden in the Dirt: In Kentucky, the "Rooted Resilience" collective is reclaiming abandoned farm plots. There is something profoundly poetic about a trans person planting seeds in the same soil that once tried to bury them. They are proving that a rural life can be a palace if the people inside it are free.
The Small Victories: A 74-year-old elder in Michigan finally received their corrected birth certificate this week—fifty years after they first knew the truth. Sometimes joy is the quiet click of a door that finally opens.
VI. The Final Bzzz
I’m sitting here looking at the drafts of our first issue, and I’m struck by the weight of this text. In my fifty-some years on this earth, from the communal gardens of the Midwest to the quiet rural corners where the livestock were my only congregation, I’ve learned that a life is built much like an essay: you start with a rough sketch and you refine the lines until they are true.
This newsletter is our collective sketch. We are that "one drop" rhythm in a world that tries to move too fast. We are the steady bass, the heavy reverb, the persistent hum of the hive. We are time immemorial. Maybe we are the magic of this life. We have survived the 70s, the 80s, and every storm since because we were organized, poetic, creative and fiercely protective of one another.
Keep your hives warm and your spirits sharp. There is a lot of honey still to be made.
Stay solid & stay safe,
Honey Rosasharn
Editor-in-Chief