From Stonewall to Stream Surveys: The Fight for Belonging

Working in fisheries means navigating complex intersections between ecosystems, species, policy, and people, often in high-stress or even questionably safe environments. It’s a field that demands empathy, patience, curiosity, and commitment. Those same qualities are just as important when it comes to inclusion and equity.

So, how do we bring that mindset into our everyday interactions? How do we make our labs, boats, meetings, and conferences places where all of our colleagues feel seen, supported, and safe? How do we carry forward the spirit of Pride, not just in June, but throughout the year?

The first step is understanding the history. There's a lot we, as a professional community, can learn from that history.

Where It All Began

Each June, you’ve probably noticed the rainbow flags go up, the parades roll out, and maybe even some of your friends add a splash of color to their social media. Beyond the surface-level celebrations and modern rainbow-washing* lies a deeper history shaped by daily struggle and brutal reality. Pride is rooted in a long and painful fight for justice.

There wasn’t a single float or corporate sponsor at the ignition of Pride in June 1969. The U.S. wouldn’t see its first official Pride parades until the 1970s. Instead, it was an act of defiance at the mafia-owned Stonewall Inn, one of New York City's most popular gay bars. If anyone can appreciate the sanctuary of a good watering hole, it's the fisheries community. It's where ideas are exchanged on napkins stained with coffee rings or sweat from a cold pint. It's where colleagues, who are more like old friends, reconnect after months or years apart. The birth of many collaborations and good hypotheses happened in the comfort of their dimly lit interior, and it was in a bar like this that the modern Pride movement was born.

In 1969, homosexuality was still a criminal offense, and queer*-friendly establishments were frequent targets of police raids. For the people at Stonewall, that bar was a rare place of safety and solidarity. They weren't seeking the spotlight, and they definitely weren't anticipating brand sponsorships. They were trying to exist while tensions between the queer community and police had been rising for weeks. Then, when yet another raid struck the Stonewall, queer folks, many of them Black and brown trans women, fought back. What followed was six days of protest that forever shifted the trajectory of LGBTQ+ rights in the U.S. (Library of Congress).

I would be short-sighted not to mention Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, both trans women of color, who are often left out of mainstream Pride narratives, despite being central figures in that uprising. Marsha P. Johnson was a Black transgender activist and drag performer often falsely credited for throwing the first brick at the Stonewall uprising. Instead, she was one of many transgender women with nothing left to lose who came to protect their sanctuary after chaos had erupted (PBS 2023). Sylvia Rivera, a Latina transgender activist, was also on the front lines at Stonewall, fighting back against police violence (National Women's History Museum 2021). For the people defending Bonnie's Stonewall Inn wasn't just an act of bravery; It was survival. A plea to live in a world that too often sought to erase them. They were fighting for the right to exist without fear, even if that sanctuary was a dimly lit, mafia-owned dive.

It's not just history. It's now.

You might think, "That was decades ago. Haven't we made progress?" And yes, we have. But we're still living in a world where LGBTQ+ people, especially trans people, face persistent discrimination, violence, and an onslaught of targeted legislation. As of 2025, over 850 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced across the U.S., many explicitly aimed at rolling back trans rights (Reed 2025).

In natural resources fields, it can be easy to think, "This isn't our lane." We're trained to separate personal beliefs from scientific work. But the truth is, none of us are outside of these struggles. LGBTQ+ people are our coworkers, our students, our mentors, our community members, and our fellow AFS Society members. Far too often, they feel pressure to hide who they are. Sometimes just to be taken seriously, and sometimes to stay safe.

In 2024, at least 32 transgender* or genderexpansive* people were killed in the U.S. (HRC). That number carries a heavy asterisk; 38% of those individuals were still misgendered* or deadnamed* by police or the media despite their transgender or gender-expansive identity being known (HRC). The real number is likely higher. Erasing this part of a person’s legacy posthumously biases data reporting. Take Marsha P. Johnson, the Black trans woman who helped ignite the modern LGBTQ+ movement in '69. In 1992, she was found dead floating in the Hudson River with clear evidence of gun violence. Despite this, her death was swiftly ruled a suicide. It took two decades of legal advocacy before her case was listed as a potential homicide in 2012. That is 20 years for her to be included in data on violence, let alone anti-trans violence, despite her pivotal role in LGBTQ+ history (Vanity Fair 2017).

This is not an issue of the past.

Black trans women continue to be the most at-risk group in the LGBTQ+ community. In 2024, Black trans women made up 78% of LGBTQ+ individuals lost to violence (HRC). As LGBTQ+ visibility has grown, so have the risks that come with it. A 2024 survey cited 47% of transgender respondents had experienced public gender based discrimination within the last year (CAP 2025). Many queer and trans individuals describe Pride Month as one of the most dangerous times of year. That fear isn't unfounded. The increased media attention, political rhetoric, and public events draw not just support but also hostility.

As we understand in ecology, visibility without protection can increase vulnerability. Being seen without safeguards can lead to higher mortality for endangered or prey species. It's a grim comparison, but it resonates. Being visible, while empowering, can also be dangerous when protections are stripped away. Progress is real, but so are the threats.

The Second Step

The second step is asking how we show up - now, today, in this field. So yes, wear that rainbow hat this month, fly your Pride flag, and post that story. But also take a moment to reflect on the people who made Pride possible. Continue the tough conversations, challenge injustice, and stand up even when it is dangerous to do so. Pride is about visibility, yes, but also resistance and joy. It’s about building a world where everyone can be who they are, without fear, on land, on water, and everywhere in between.

Glossary

Rainbow washing - also known as pink washing, is the practice of using LGBTQIA+ images and messages superficially in marketing without giving any support to the community. Most often seen in the month of June.

Rainbow capitalism - businesses using pride month & queer symbols as an opportunity to sell merchandise and profit rather than genuinely support the LGBTQIA+ community. This is also most often seen in the month of June. You can combat it by buying directly from LGBTQIA+ companies or artists.

Queer - an umbrella term for people in the LGBTQIA+ community, often used by those who don’t fit specific labels or prefer not to share more. Once a slur, it’s been reclaimed as a positive, empowering identity. The “Q” in LGBTQIA+ stands for queer or questioning.

Biological sex - also known as assigned sex or birth sex, refers to the physical characteristics of an individual's reproductive organs, chromosomes, and hormones. This information is typically used to classify individuals as male or female at birth.

Gender and Gender Identity - Gender is a social construct, shaped by the cultural norms, behaviors, and roles linked to different identities, which can differ greatly across societies and change over time. In contrast, gender identity pertains to a person's internal understanding of their own gender.

Gender Expansive - describes individuals whose gender identity, expression, or experience falls outside traditional binary expectations (male/female). It serves as an umbrella term encompassing a variety of gender identities and expressions, including non-binary, transgender, genderqueer, and genderfluid individuals.

Transgender - a term for people whose gender identity doesn't align with the sex they were assigned at birth. Often used by those who describe their experience as a “transition,” though not all gender-expansive people identify with it. That’s why it's often paired with broader terms.

Deadname - the name a trans person used prior to transition. Many trans people do not like to be referred to by their prior name and consider it “dead” - even if it is still their legal name.

Misgender - using the incorrect pronouns for someone or referring to them as the wrong gender. This can be done accidentally or intentionally.

When Doing the Right Thing Takes Guts

Let’s talk about those moments when something feels off - someone getting harassed, excluded, or mistreated in public. You notice. It’s uncomfortable. Your heart races a little. Maybe you feel frozen, unsure of what to do. But here’s the truth: you have a choice.

And that’s the key - you have a choice. The person being targeted doesn’t. They’re in it, whether they want to be or not.

In that moment, you can walk away, pretend you didn’t see it, or convince yourself it’s not your business. That’s the easy route, and honestly, it’s the one most people take. But there’s another option. You can choose to act - not recklessly, not in a way that puts yourself in danger, but with intention and courage.

Because if you’re not the one in harm’s way, you’re operating from a place of freedom. With that freedom comes a responsibility to those who don’t have the same privilege of choice. You don’t have to be a hero. You don’t have to say the perfect thing. You might stumble over your words or feel awkward, and that’s okay.

What matters is that you’re present. That you’re willing to act. That you care enough to try. Because in a world where too many people look away, even a small act of courage can mean everything.

The Allyship A-B-C-D⁵ model is all about empowering you to empower others. It’s not about playing the hero or making a scene. It’s about showing up when it counts, with care and intention. These are practical tools - things anyone can do - that help shift the moment from harm to support.

And these moments matter. More than we often realize. Because when someone is being harassed or targeted, even small acts of solidarity can remind them that they are not invisible, not alone, and not without support.

Here’s the quick version:

First, assess the situation. Is it safe to step in? If not, don’t go it alone. Call for backup, alert someone nearby, or report it to someone in authority. Your safety matters, too. If it is safe, a simple check-in can go a long way. A quick “Are you okay?” or even a presence beside them can shift the dynamic and signal that they are not alone.

Second, if you missed your chance to act in the moment, don’t worry - it’s not too late.

• Check in afterward. Find a quiet moment and offer a kind word, an open ear, or practical help. They may not want to rehash what happened - and that’s okay. The point is to show that someone noticed and cared. Discretion is fine, but silence helps no one.

• Speak up later. Could something be done to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Can a policy be improved, or a team be trained? And does the person impacted have access to resources - emotional, legal, or otherwise - that could help them recover or respond?

• Distract when appropriate. A light but intentional interruption - spilling a drink, asking for directions, starting an unrelated conversation—can redirect the moment and defuse the situation. Just be careful not to put someone else in harm’s way, even unintentionally. Holding someone accountable doesn’t require humiliation.

• Delegate if you can’t intervene yourself. That might mean calling over a security guard, manager, teacher, or friend. And if no one’s available in the moment, follow up later. Who needs to know? What would support real change?

• Document safely. If you’re in a position to record the interaction and it’s legal to do so, great. But even if you can’t, writing down what happened—who was there, what was said, when and where it occurred—can make a big difference when it's time to report or reflect.

This isn’t about politics or perfection. It’s about living your values with action. Courage! doesn’t always look dramati.c—it’s often quiet, thoughtful, and grounded in the simple belief that we all deserve dignity.

So next time you see something that makes your stomach turn or your heart race, pause and ask yourself:

Can I be as brave as the person who didn’t get to choose to be in this moment?

If the answer is yes - even a little - lean into it. That’s not just allyship. That’s character. That’s how we build trust. That’s how we take care of one another