By the Spectrum South Staff
SHOE ALERT! Was at Burlington in PlazaAmericas and noted their shoe rack started at size 5!
This was a Facebook message Monica Roberts sent me on Christmas Eve in 2017. Monica and I had long laughed about our struggles with finding women’s shoes in our sizes. I wear a size 5, making it an endeavor to find footwear outside of the children’s section, while Monica was always on the search for her larger than “average” size. Thus, we had become each other’s shoe informants, sending each other tips of size-inclusive stores around town. She was always looking out for me.
That’s just what Monica did—she looked out for people. She looked out for her own, and for her community.
Monica was, as her Facebook page said, an “Unapologetic Black trans person fighting for everyone’s human rights.” A trailblazing, relentless transgender activist, her accolades were endless—she was the founder of the GLAAD award-winning TransGriot blog, which she created to “build community and pride in being an unapologetically Black trans person,” and was one of the first bloggers to correctly identify transgender murder victims across the country; she was a founding member of the National Transgender Advocacy Coalition; and this month, Monica became the first trans person to win the Don Hrachovy Lifetime Achievement Award from the Houston GLBT Caucus.
But she was so much more than her achievements: a mentor, a fearless politico, a history buff, a sister, an auntie, a friend.
I first met Monica in May 2014 while reporting on the Houston Equal Rights Ordinance (HERO). Facing Houston City Council, Monica stood tall behind the miced podium. The Houston City Council Chambers, she joked, had become her home over the past few years. She was there to speak in favor of the ordinance, which would protect Houstonians, regardless of sexual orientation, gender identity, and 13 other protected characteristics, from discrimination in employment, housing, and public accommodations. “The people are the city. That’s what it says over the door here,” she began. “‘The people’ also includes the transgender community, of which I am a proud representative.” I was amazed at the way Monica commanded the room with her words in those few minutes. I would soon learn that Monica always commanded the room: whether testifying in front of City Council, speaking at a community fundraiser, leading a TDOR event, or telling one of her famous stories among friends. If Monica was there, you knew it; her energy was palpable.
If you knew Monica, you knew she was a proud University of Houston alumna (Go Coogs!). I started graduate school at UH a little over a year after we met. I was working full time and going to night classes part time—a schedule that (ask any grad student) will push you darn near a nervous breakdown. Yet, whenever I was this close to giving up, Monica would somehow appear. Every time I would see her at an event, she would ask me how school was, offer encouraging words, and tell me how proud she was that I was on this path. She even wrote me a letter of recommendation to apply to the Houston Transgender Unity Committee’s scholarship fund, an award I ultimately received—helping to ease, even slightly, the financial burden of higher education that many LGBTQ students face.
Photo by Dani Benoit.
Monica supported me, and my co-founder, Kelsey Gledhill, as we launched Spectrum South in 2017. She recognized our motivation to start the magazine—to create a platform that accurately represents voices of the queer south, voices that had otherwise been ignored by the mainstream media. She even occasionally guest wrote for the magazine—including a piece on how she’d run the Texas Capitol, if she was in charge—and was a speaker at our 2018 “Vie de Femme” celebration of queer femme identity. It’s my hope that, even in our small way, Spectrum South can continue the work that Monica started with TransGriot all those years ago.
On Monday, October 5, 2020, Monica Roberts passed away at age 58. Like myself, many on Spectrum South’s staff were impacted by Monica, her life’s work, her energy, and the legacy she leaves. To honor this irreplaceable powerhouse, below we share our collective memories of Monica. Rest in Power.
—Megan Smith, Co-founder & Editor-in-chief
Joelle Bayaa-Uzuri, Writer
Monica Roberts was a pillar of the TGNCNB community.
I hadn’t known of Monica for very long, but her name, as well as her work, preceded her. Her life was not only a true testament to the rich history of our community (that she herself lived and experienced), but she was a glimpse into a future. That future was one of determination, tenacity, and an unrelenting pursuit of equity and justice.
She will live on as a voice of the community and a true trailblazer of the Black trans community. We can never thank you enough for your legacy; your words and work will live on throughout the minds and hearts of us all.
Dani Benoit, Photographer/Videographer
Monica radiated life and energy. I was only able to talk with her a handful of times since moving to Houston, but that time impacted me greatly. She was one of those people who, when she spoke, others listened. She was a natural storyteller. The last time we were together, I remember hanging on every word as she recounted her life in Houston over the years. I felt a sense of disappointment as the night came to an end and we had to say our goodbyes. I couldn’t wait to see her again and hear more stories about her life. Now I’m grateful for the few stories I did get to hear her tell. I know there are many who feel the same way as I do, and her stories will live on through their retelling.
Kelsey Gledhill, Co-Founder & Chief Creative Officer
Beyond her devout commitment to make our community and world a better place for all, I always admired Monica’s candid, straightforward demeanor. She left no room for doubt or question—she stuck to her guns, spoke and acted with purpose, and never counted anyone out. She always welcomed me with a smile and eagerness to discuss what was next for Spectrum South. I am both proud and lucky to have known such a remarkable woman—thank you, Monica, for your consistent presence, uplifting spirit, and hard-ass work ethic.
Julien Gomez, Veer Queer Podcast Host
I didn’t know Monica well, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t feel the impact of her work as a queer brown person from Houston. I’ve seen firsthand how much she’s taken care of the people around her, regardless if they were a close friend of hers or a stranger. Her loss is such a huge blow to our community, but I hope that we’re feeling more energized and inspired to continue fighting for equal rights—particularly those of Black trans women.
Rest in power, Monica Roberts. May your legacy continue to inspire so many and thank you for fighting so hard for Black trans women. You’ll be dearly missed by so many.
Yvonne Marquez, Writer
I met Monica Roberts at an LGBT journalist conference in 2015. It was the first conference I attended that held space for two integral parts of who I am—a queer person and a journalist. That weekend I learned so much about my industry from the panels and conversations with the attendees, including Monica.
I remember I was excited to meet Monica because I routinely read her blog, TransGriot. As a former senior editor at Autostraddle, it was part of my responsibilities to keep up with LGBT news and, unfortunately, a big part of my job was reporting on the murders of trans women, especially Black trans women. TransGriot was the only news source I could routinely rely on for information that gave dignity to the trans women who were victims of violence. She was a pioneer in how reporters and writers should be covering the violence and issues trans women face.
Monica Roberts had a magnetic and strong presence as big as Texas at the conference and everywhere she went. She always, always spoke up about trans rights and the issues affecting her and her community. I admired her passion and her dedication to trans advocacy and her community work in Houston and throughout the state.
I can only hope to write and report about trans issues in a way that gives trans people justice, just the way Monica did. Monica Roberts was a trans trailblazer in Texas and will always be remembered as such. She will be dearly missed.
Laura McGuire, Writer
Monica was a powerful force within the local Houston queer community, as well as in the world at large. A leader with her lived experiences, deep sense of compassion, and understanding of her purpose on this earth to amplify the voices of her community only comes around a few times each generation.
I first met Monica when she spoke at the Harris County Domestic Violence Council, of which I was a part. She attended as a guest speaker to discuss gender bias and trans exclusion in housing placements for domestic violence survivors. She immediately commanded the room with her grace and presence. Her ability to get people’s attention in a way that was productive, thought-provoking, and engaging was something that I deeply admired.
I would see Monica again and again at different community events and fundraisers and always paused to pay close attention when she spoke. I wish I had taken the time to engage her in more one-on-one conversations, but I’m glad that I was able to learn from all of the wisdom she had to share.
Losing a leader, an icon, like Monica is something that we cannot minimize. We as queer people and trans folks need all of the change agents that we are blessed to have; and when one is gone, the painful ripple effects can last generations. Rest in power, Monica. Your voice will echo in our hearts and reverberate throughout our community for years to come.
Kirby Squires, Social Media Director
Monica was often at panels and events that I attended, and I always felt her energy whenever she walked into a room. Sometimes she was there to support others and sometimes she was leading the conversation—but no matter what, I soon realized, she always showed up. Her dedication to and love for her community and those around her was always so clear. Though I only got to talk with her briefly a handful of times over the years, her knowledge, presence, passion, and laughter will be something I miss greatly in those shared spaces.
Thank you for showing up, Monica—truthfully, you did that in more ways than I will ever know, but even in my small corner of the world (as an ally to the queer community), I could feel the impact you made. I think I will always, at least a little, expect you to walk through the door of any event I go to. Your tireless efforts to fight for equality and to be present when it really mattered will be remembered for years to come.
Barrett White, Writer
It was a late night of work—articles, news media, and editorial. I had just put my glasses back on after a well-needed rub of the bridge of my nose when I got a text from Dani, the producer of The 2081 Project, a politics podcast that I co-host.
Monica Roberts, one of the most influential figures in LGBTQ+ activism, had passed. Her best friend, Dee Dee Watters, had just broken the news on Facebook.
I and many other activists and community members had been in mourning for a full few hours before inevitable tributes in them., the Houston Chronicle, Out, and OutSmart began to appear online.
Monica was a juggernaut in the political arena. She knew her worth and the worth of every transgender individual and fought tooth and nail for it. She did no harm, but she took no shit.
Monica and Dee Dee appeared on The 2081 Project; in fact, they were our first guests. Living under the Trump administration—with a Republican governor to boot—the conversation was lively, pointed, and, frankly, hilarious. Because that was the best part of Monica, you see—she was assured, tenacious, and unrelenting in her activism, but damn she had a sense of humor and knew how to make you laugh while she did it.
Back in college when I was but an intern, I heard a lot about Monica—all good things, of course. So when I met her for the first time at a gala, I was a fresh-faced 23 year old with approximately six articles ever published with my byline. And I was nervous to meet a local super(s)hero like Ms. Roberts.
There were white gays whose only contributions to society were their fitness Instagrams who treated me with less respect than Monica did. She saw me, she must have known I was nervous, and all she cared about was that I got to ask my question. I reached for a handshake and she gave me a hug. That was Monica Roberts.
Over time through my work in local media, politics, and Pride, our paths would cross plenty. No matter the gala, the banquet, or the informal get-together, you recognized Monica. Before you saw her, you’d hear that trademark laugh.
I’m picking up on a theme here—how good she made people feel. Not only because she was good to you, but because she fought for you. You knew where you stood with Monica.
She was cut from a different cloth. Cut from that same cloth, however, is her sister, her mentee, and another friend of mine with whom my thoughts have been since I first heard the news, Dee Dee Watters. Ms. Watters is equally tenacious. Equally righteous. Equally caring, and equally incredible. Dee Dee, we love you and are here for you during this time of tremendous, inconceivable loss—for the community and the world, yes—but especially for you.
Monica spent a lifetime fighting for what is right. It is our duty to honor her by doing the same.
Rest in Peace and Power, Monica Roberts.
Services for Monica Roberts will be held on the following dates:
October 23, 2020 – Wake
October 24, 2020 – Funeral
October 25, 2020 – Celebration of Life
Dee Dee Watters is finalizing service details/venues. This article will be updated with more information as it becomes available. There is also a memorial fund for Monica’s services established by Black Transwomen Inc. Click here to donate.
