At barely 10 years old, Pierce Hand Seitz already had a leg up on other 5th graders: After getting a taste of legal proceedings during a mock trial, he was pretty certain he wanted to be a lawyer when he grew up

At the start of 2024, like every year, resolutions and bold proclamations are being sprinkled throughout daily conversations. From desires to maintain physical fitness to claims dedicated to creating and implementing boundaries, the start of a new year often allows time for reflection, resolution, and growth.

At first glance, Morna Gerrard doesn’t seem like an undercover superhero. Spend time chatting with her about her work, however, and her superpowers gradually emerge. 

Growing up in the Bronx in the 1980s, Will Ramirez saw his mother, Alicia -- a devout Catholic and church volunteer -- show love and compassion to men who often were afflicted with a mysterious, deadly virus sweeping through New York City’s gay community.

For decades, the Rev. Duncan Teague has been one of Atlanta’s most charismatic, high-profile public-health warriors, a fierce advocate for the city’s Black and gay communities.

At the beginning of this year, law enforcement in Atlanta fired 57 bullets, taking Miguel “Tortuguita” Teran from Indigenous queer environmental activist to unwilling martyr. On January 18, 2023, 26-year-old Tortuguita was shot and killed by Georgia state troopers in Atlanta during a protest against a proposed police training facility called “Cop City.”

When a detainee at the Fulton County, Ga., jail in Atlanta was found dead in a filthy, vermin-infested cell in September, 2022, the federal Department of Justice announced an investigation into the death -- and into allegations of a pattern of mistreatment and danger at the Rice Street facility in downtown Atlanta.

On this podcast episode Johnnie Kornegay chats with Singer, Songwriter, Producer and Arranger Donnie about his album The American Mythology, and his personal journey to liberation.

This conversation was taped on June 20, 2016.

Nathan Lee Graham is crystal clear about his personal and professional identity. 

"My pronouns are he, him—diva. And I'm a very proud Black gay man," he says. 

When Ariel Fristoe and her family moved into the Historic King District in downtown Atlanta, she had no idea how segregated her world was.

The Agnostic child of theater parents, she grew up around and regularly interacted with people from different backgrounds. However, her engagement in investigating and identifying systemic racism and inequality was few and far between. She never had to think much about what was happening with her neighbors.

"My home base has been Charis my entire life."

That is not hyperbole. Since he was 15, ER Anderson has taken up space at the beloved bookstore.

His mother introduced him to Charis. A licensed therapist, she was acutely aware that her child was struggling. He had not yet identified as transgender, but his mother discerned her child needed an outlet.

Growing up in Rome, Georgia, and raised by a United Methodist Church minister, Lama Rod Owens always understood the importance of service and community.

Josh Penny has always been more motivated when seeing how something impacts another person versus how it affects him.

"It's something my therapist has been trying to get me to work on," he said.

In his role as director of social impact for Hinge, he is responsible for figuring out how to help users connect with others. His role is to help users form healthy relationships by providing them with the habits and skills needed to do so.

The more Sophia Hussen, MD, MPH learned about HIV, the more she felt compelled to provide care, support, and understanding about those living with the disease.

An associate professor in the Rollins School of Public Health at Emory University, she doesn't just spin her wheels in the academy's ivory tower. She mixes advocacy with activism, pairing her commitment to research with her practice as a physician in the HIV Clinic at Grady Memorial Hospital.

DeMicha Luster's community organizing work began unexpectedly.

"I was doing some work for a local non-profit when someone asked me why they hadn't seen me at any of the NPU [Neighborhood Planning Unit] or civic association meetings," she said. "I took the hint and started attending."

Eventually, people noticed she was the only person under 30 attending the meetings. That made her the ideal candidate to organize a potential field trip.

"Someone donated passes to Six Flags, and so, it was suggested that I take 35 kids from the community," she added.

All she had to do was figure out how to get the kids there. And, of course, get their parents' permission.

Anyone raised in Atlanta understands, to some extent, the magnitude of such a task. First, she had to find the kids willing to go. That's not too hard. For many kids, taking a trip to Six Flags is a treat. But funding and transportation for kids of a certain age and socio-economic background can be challenging. Then there is another issue altogether – trust. Many of the kids didn't know her or their parents. Even though it's been years since the Atlanta Childhood Murders, the scars are still visible for some. She was a stranger and had some convincing to do.

For years, Atlanta has claimed the official/unofficial moniker of the “Black Gay Mecca.” The city has been considered a top destination for countless queer-identifying people of color seeking refuge and acceptance. But is that still true today?

While Atlanta continues to be attractive to most, its official/unofficial Black Gay Mecca designation isn't all that continues to draw many to live here. Two recent transplants suggest the city's Black gay population is a bonus, but was an afterthought when considering making Atlanta their current home.

"I never really saw myself living in Atlanta," LaDettria Miller, 35, told The Reckoning. "I just never had a desire to live here."

A native of Weir, Mississippi, Miller spent three weeks working in Atlanta on a temporary assignment as a certified nursing assistant.

"For whatever reason, I wasn't feeling it," he said. "In my adult life, I had only been to Atlanta twice before that. They were day trips, not really enough time to really get the feel of the city. But during those three weeks of being here, it didn't stick."

Doug Shipman is settling into his new role as Atlanta City Council president. Since his swearing-in earlier this month, he’s appointed committee chairs, presided over a couple of council meetings, and met with state officials.

He’s also poring over hundreds of pages detailing city finances and funding distribution processes, all packed into three thick binders. It’s here where he says he can find ways to fix the city’s long-beleaguered HIV housing program.

“It’s really a tactical thing,” he says of finding a solution. “And often the devil is in the details.”

Like clockwork, the start of a new year is filled with resolutions, many of which are completely abandoned before the calendar enters the month of February. Without an internal assessment, a clear plan, and the necessary support to bring those plans to fruition, even the most hopeful among us often fail to meet personal goals set at the beginning of the year. But what if all you needed to thrive in 2022 was inside of you waiting to be unlocked? It’s not unimaginable that the keys might be hidden underneath two years of devastating loss, deteriorating mental health, and socio-economic challenges driven by the global pandemic. For many, January 1 marks the beginning of a clean slate—a do-over—another chance to get it right. But according to Fonda Clayton, an Atlanta-based holistic life coach, a clean slate is available for us to choose from every day.

After months of debates, campaign ads, meet and greets, and canvassing, Atlanta is close to naming a new mayor and potentially welcoming some new and familiar faces to the City Council and Board of Education.

Unfortunately, some of those faces will not include the dozen or so Black LGBTQ identified candidates who launched campaigns for the council, school board, and the mayor’s office.

Of the slate of Black LGBTQ candidates, Keisha Waites is the only candidate with a chance of possibly winning their campaign. A native of Atlanta and a former state legislator, Waites is in a runoff against Jacqueline “Jacki” Labat for the Council’s Post 3 At-Large seat. Labat’s husband, Patrick Labat, is Fulton County Sheriff.

Waites’ platform is centered on four issues: public safety, restoring public trust, regional transportation, and affordable housing.

When a young 12-year-old boy, reportedly named Tyler, was ridiculed live on social media for being effeminate, Devin Barrington-Ward was one of the first community activists to reach out in support of the pre-teen.

He reached out, he told The Reckoning, because there is a lack of safety nets available to young people like Tyler.

“There are countless young people like Tyler who are Black and LGBT who need an advocate and someone to care.”

Barrington-Ward is one of a handful of LGBTQ+ individuals running for Atlanta City Council. He is looking to unseat the incumbent Councilmember Dustin Hillis for the District 9 seat.

Then just a fresh-faced youth, Atlanta lesbian Charlotte Hubbard spent her early 20s attending the city’s legendary Black gay pride celebration — one of the few places where she felt she could truly exhale.

“I loved just being in a place where I’m not seeking acceptance,” Hubbard says. “Just being able to be free felt really good.”

Then something shifted. Fist fights seemed to rise. The carefree vibe seemed to diminish. Eventually, for Hubbard, it stopped feeling like home.

“The turning point was when I was at Piedmont Park and every other corner I turned, there was a fight,” says Hubbard, who at 37, hasn’t attended Black Pride in a decade. “I said, ‘I can’t do this’.”

During a random conversation at an event in early May, Bethsheba Rem found herself assessing her life. She met someone who mentioned they were recruiting people interested in being campaign managers or running for local office.

“I told him I am a professor and spoken word artist when he asked what I did for a living,” she told The Reckoning.

Without missing a beat, he suggested that she run for the school board.

“In two seconds, I assessed my whole life,” she said. “I took an inventory of where I am and what I have done. For me, I am either going to do something 100 percent, full speed ahead, completely all in, if I believe in it.”

In those two seconds, running for Atlanta School Board made sense.

NAESM exists to serve Black, gay and bisexual men. Full stop. This tenet has been central to the organization’s mission in the fight to reduce new HIV infections and to provide care for those living with HIV, including Atlantans who do not exist within the targeted group for over 30 years. It’’s with the same laser focus on Black, gay and bisexual men, one of the most heavily impacted groups by HIV, that NAESM’s African American MSM Leadership Conference on Health Disparities and Social Justice, the nation’s largest annual convening dedicated to exploring HIV prevention, care, treatment, policy, and research, will escape the cold of the Southeast in January for the warmth of sunny Los Angeles.

For nearly 15 years, Olu Brown, Lead Pastor of Impact Church, located in what was once an abandoned warehouse in East Point after small beginnings in the auditorium of Brown Middle School, has quickly become one of the fastest-growing United Methodist Churches in the country by “doing church differently.”

A native Texan, LGBTQ+ ally, and divorced father of two, Brown leads a 21st-century congregation that is diverse and inclusive—two buzzwords that often serve as signals to LGBTQ+ Christians that a house of worship is safe and welcoming. But unlike many African-American ministers who embrace Black liberation theology concerning the oppression of Black people—but take a literal approach to the Biblical condemnation of queer people—Brown is explicit about the evolution of his theological position and why his support for the LGBTQ+ community, along with conversations with conservative clergy about LGBTQ+ issues is not only the right thing to do but is also a social justice issue.