An Open Letter to Jonathan Joss

I confess that I don’t really know you. 

The people who watched you as an actor knew you. They respected you for your talents and work ethic. Native and queer people were able to see themselves represented through you. I remember the first time I saw a queer character represented in a movie – it felt like it changed my life. I can imagine you offered a similar representation and empowerment for queer and Native people. 

The people who loved you knew you. Your friends and the people you called family. Your husband, Tristan Kern de Gonzales, who has helped raise awareness about what really happened – despite what the police and media try to claim. I know they knew you, and you knew and loved them, because you sacrificed yourself to save the life of your beloved, your partner, your husband, after being subjected to vicious hate. 

I cannot imagine what went through your mind or heart in that moment. I cannot imagine the pain you went through prior to this, after losing your home and your dogs. I cannot imagine the frustration and anger you may have felt at the continued lack of response from the police as they refused to ensure the safety of you and your family. Though I am queer, I am white, and have not been subjected to the level of brutality, indifference, and hatred that you and your family experienced. Even now, after your death, the far-right continues to try to twist the narrative about what happened, downplaying this as though it wasn’t a vicious hate crime. As they erase your queer, and/or Native identity, failing to recognize that this was a hate crime on the basis of both racism and queerphobia. 

I wish I had known you. I wish I had known you and the thousands of others, named and unnamed, who have died due to hate and bigotry. Nex Benedict. Brianna Ghey. Kira Salim. Poe Black/Oliver Jackson. Danielle Boachie. Rita Hester. Matthew Shepard. Brandon Teena. Manuel Teran. Beckett Noble. And now, you – Jonathan Joss. Your names always remain in my heart. I wonder what your lives could have been – what all our lives could have been – if we could get rid of hate. Brianna would be graduating high school this year, her whole future ahead of her. Poe Black would still be advocating for Native, Black, and queer rights. Perhaps you and Tristan would have had a special anniversary coming up to celebrate. 

Since you did not know peace in your lifetime, I wish you peace now. I wish you to rise in glory and safety. I wish you to stand firm in the knowledge that those of us who were left behind will continue to fight until we no longer have to. Until the list of names stops growing. Until everyone can be as their authentic selves in safety. 

I wish your friends and family comfort at this time of grief and anger. 

I wish that, for those who loved to watch your acting, they may find warmth in your presence and may find hope to be that powerful representation for future generations. 

I wish all of our beautiful community, Native, queer, and Native queers a safe Pride and Indigenous History Month. 

May we make it so.