On this day in queerstory: the birth of Truman Capote

September 30: a day when art, activism, and community memories come together with purpose and pride.

Let’s start with the beat of a march: since 1959, Paraguay has marked this date as a kind of quiet revolution. On September 30, 1959, a protest document titled The Letter from an Amoral Man was published. It was written in response to a brutal crackdown by the authoritarian regime of Alfredo Stroessner that targeted people labeled “amoral” – in other words, queer people who were persecuted simply for existing.

Fast-forward: September 30, 2004 saw the birth of the Asunción LGBT Pride March, organized by the Gay, Lesbian and Transgender Action Group (GAGLT). That first march wasn’t just a parade; it was reclaiming memory – linking present-day visibility with the roots of queer resistance in Paraguay. Every year since, the Pride march takes place on September 30, closing a commemorative week for LGBT rights.

Beyond Paraguay, September 30 has hosted other queer-history milestones. For example, Truman Capote – the dazzling, sharp-witted writer who gave us Breakfast at Tiffany’s and In Cold Blood – was born September 30, 1924. Capote was openly homosexual in a time when such openness carried real risk, and his life and works remain a touchstone for queer literary culture. His existence was part of changing what’s possible.

On that very same day in 2004, something else happened in the U.S.: the House of Representatives voted on a proposed constitutional amendment that would have banned same-sex marriage. The amendment failed. It was a big moment – one of those legal flashpoints reminding people that equality can teeter, that it must be defended.

Also that day in 1983, New York State sued a co-op in West 12th Street for trying to evict Dr. Joseph Sonnabend because he treated people with AIDS. The case was emblematic of the stigma facing both people with HIV/AIDS and those who helped them – a reminder that the gutter of prejudice often drags people into legal battles just for being compassionate or doing their work.

What ties these moments together is both resistance and remembrance. Paraguay’s marches and letters recall state oppression and the courage to speak out. Capote’s birth reminds us that queer identity often needs visibility as much as legal or political change. And the U.S. cases show how legal systems can both oppress and protect, depending on whether people are willing to fight, whether communities are organized, whether courts listen.

Today, on September 30, there’s something powerful in remembering all of this. It’s not just about celebrating the wins, but also honoring the people who spoke up, who were vulnerable, or who just had the bravery to exist out loud.

So if you ever need a reason to celebrate or to reflect, September 30 is rich soil – stories rooted in memory, struggle, and hope. Here’s to those who marched, those who wrote, those who stood firm. And here’s to making sure those stories still speak.