Interview with Jennifer Diane Reitz

 

Jennifer Diane Reitz moves through culture like a quiet constant, sometimes visible, sometimes hidden, always shaping the space around her. Born in Oregon at the end of 1959 and raised in a childhood of perpetual motion, she learned early how to live between places, between definitions, between what is permitted and what is necessary. Science, fiction, music, and imagined worlds became not escapes but lifelines, ways of giving structure to a reality that rarely offered her safety or recognition. Her creative work, from the early days of independent game design to the formative chaos of the early internet, reflects this instinct to build worlds when none exist. With Happy Puppy, she helped define how games were discovered and shared online, and with Boppin’, she insisted that games could be strange, emotional, uncomfortable, and unapologetically adult. Her later webcomics, especially Unicorn Jelly, continue this refusal of simplicity, unfolding as living systems of myth, logic, and transformation that demand patience and curiosity rather than passive consumption.

 

Alongside her work in games and webcomics, including the long-running Unicorn Jelly and other formally inventive projects, Reitz has consistently explored themes of identity, perception, and transformation. As a trans woman who transitioned in the early 1980s under hostile social conditions, her personal history is marked by resilience, conflict, and moments of profound crisis, but also by enduring partnerships and chosen family. She later founded the website Transsexuality as an attempt to systematize and explain trans experience at a time when accessible information was scarce, a project that remains debated and contested. Taken together, Jennifer Diane Reitz’s career forms a singular narrative at the intersection of early internet culture, independent game development, and lived transgender history, making her a compelling and sometimes challenging voice to engage with in conversation.

Interview with Andrea Glose

Some conversations stay with you long after they end, not because they are loud or dramatic, but because they are honest. This interview with Andrea is one of those moments. Andrea Glose is a Bolivian trans woman living in Florida, a barista, a survivor, a daughter, a mother, a partner, and above all, a woman who has learned to keep choosing herself in a world that often makes that choice unbearably costly. What unfolds here is not a polished success story or a neatly wrapped narrative of triumph. It is a life spoken in full sentences, with humor, grief, warmth, and defiance woven together.

 

Andrea talks about sunshine and humidity, coffee orders and gothic style, but also about loss, loneliness, survival, and the quiet miracle of still being here. She speaks with tenderness about her family, with gratitude about chosen community, and with clarity about the political violence facing transgender women today. This conversation moves gently between the everyday and the existential, between laughter and heartbreak. It reminds us that femininity has no single shape, that self-worth is an act of resistance, and that sometimes the bravest revolution is simply continuing to exist, to love, and to hope. Andrea’s voice carries all of that, unfiltered and deeply human, and I am honored to share it with you.

Interview with Christine Psaila

Christine Psaila is a woman whose story unfolds not through spectacle, but through quiet courage, reflection, and an unwavering commitment to honesty. After spending decades living in the shadows of expectation and survival, she emerged with a voice shaped by resilience and compassion, one that speaks gently yet powerfully to anyone who has ever felt unseen. Her memoir, 35 Years in Hiding, is not just a recounting of transition, but a deeply human exploration of self-acceptance, healing, and the slow, often fragile process of learning to live truthfully. Christine’s journey reminds us that authenticity does not always arrive loudly, sometimes it arrives softly, in the form of self-trust, gentleness, and the courage to finally take up space as oneself.

 

At the heart of Christine’s story is a profound sense of emotional clarity and kindness toward both her past and present self. She speaks with rare honesty about vulnerability, not as weakness, but as a strength carefully earned over time. Through her words, readers are invited into the inner landscape of a woman who learned to listen to herself after years of silence, and who now values peace over performance. Christine’s perspective offers reassurance rather than instruction, presence rather than certainty, making her journey deeply relatable to anyone navigating identity, loss, or becoming.