To many, movements for civil rights appear to change with each generation, topically shifting focus as new social issues arise year by year. We often fragment movements chronologically, forgetting the expertise of elders who, like ancestral chords, sonically bind movements together through time. Rooted in the legacy of those who came before us, we stand on the shoulders of greatness, allowing us to wish upon stars, keep our heads in the clouds, and dream of justice sparked by imagination, sustained by memory, and driven by the belief that, like all things in nature, it can move from potentiality to actuality. For generations, Stephen Houldsworth was the string in that symphony, the bassline that grounded Queer resistance while harmonizing with the frequencies of the present. Recognizing his legacy, it’s clear that Houldsworth was not only an activist or arts aficionado, nor solely a mentor, but a beacon of light, brilliance, hope, and rage to evoke change.
Stephen Houldsworth. Photo courtesy of Graham Matthews
Houldsworth took a step into activism as an HIV/AIDS volunteer at the AIDS Action Committee in Boston in 1983. He was present at key organizing efforts in New York City and other national actions, dedicating his life to fighting for justice against the United States government’s complicit neglect that allowed thousands to die. For the next 30 years, Stephen guided people to take decisive and successful steps toward change, transcending many causes. As an out-and-proud atheist, Stephen’s moral compass was not guided by religious doctrine, but by a radical love for humanity and an unwavering sense of justice. Steve was there for the protests against the U.S.’s response to the AIDS crisis, he showed up for Occupy Wall Street to combat corporate bailouts, he was a fighter for justice in Ferguson and at the Stockley protests, tirelessly advocating for Queer rights, for people experiencing homelessness, and against war.
Stephen emulated a fiery ball of justice wrapped in pure joy, a comet of rebellion who did not intimidate up-and-coming leaders but instead carved space for them to rise.
From the AIDS epidemic and the ACT UP movement to the killing of Mike Brown and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement, Stephen carried resounding, perennial message: “STOP KILLING US!!” He fiercely, and rightfully, critiqued the systemic oppression of Queer people in all their interlocking identities, whether Black, Arab, Palestinian, unhoused, poor, unfed, or otherwise exploited through capitalism or imperialism. He not only looked externally at critique, Houldsworth was a sharp critic of the complacency that followed the legalization of gay marriage, calling out how corporate gays, now accepted into the mainstream, became indifferent (or worse, complicit) in the continued oppression of others within the Queer community. A relentless social critic, his focus on justice and his commitment to progress often put him at odds with organizations such as HRC, and especially Pride St. Louis, whose corporate model welcomed sponsors like Boeing, companies that manufacture bombs used to kill Queer people overseas.
Stephen cared deeply for Queer people around the globe, and he inspired thousands not only through the streets via direct action, but also within institutional structures he sought to reshape from the inside. He wore many hats and showed up in countless spaces. While many may have seen him on the streets protesting or as a counselor for
St. Louis Effort For AIDS, he was also, for many, a formal educator at Webster University, a school known for its progressive-leaning stances. Stephen taught courses that made students think critically about their positional privilege in classes such as “Witnessing Whiteness.” Houldsworth helped guide their LGBTQIA club throughout the late ’90s and played a pivotal role in how Queer students navigated the aftermath of the brutal, homophobic murder of Matthew Shepard. That beacon of hope illuminated the path of students and permitted them the audacity to be agents of change.
Stephen Houldsworth and Graham Matthews. Photo credit: Richard Reilly
We are now living a moment when a resurgence of homophobic laws and rhetoric threatens Queer lives. As militarized policing expands both within our borders and beyond, there is a renewed urgency to listen to our elders and continue the fight they’ve carried for generations. Stephen was doing the work for over 40 years, avidly inspiring people to be more compassionate and understanding. His warmth and compassion inspired genuine admiration for change and justice. This compassion and dedication were contagious. Stephen truly loved the community, not just as a malady needing remedy but as a living, breathing organic connection of people, interconnected through the arts: the heartbeat of culture, and a vehicle for justice.
You could see Stephen at underground punk shows with moldy basement ceilings reverberating with rage, or at drag shows dripping in filth and glamour. You could also see him gracing the board of advisory committees for the Opera Theatre St. Louis and the Regional Arts Commission, where he was also a fellow in the Community Arts Training program. Stephen and his husband Graham Matthews were seen everywhere in St. Louis celebrating the arts, so much so that the local magazine, the Riverfront Times, awarded them the “Best Fans” of the arts. Their love was a glorious, defiant, hairy gay love, rebelliously existing in arguably the most homophobic state in the country. When asked about his favorite memory of Stephen, his husband Graham recalled when they first started dating: “Steve was a big fan of the casinos in town. We’d go to the buffets and just walk around holding hands. One asshole at the card table saw us and was like… ‘You’re just gonna walk around holding his hand?’ all aggressive and shit. It was my first time being challenged on something common for straight couples. Steve didn’t back down. He shouted back, ‘YEAH! WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?!’ and the guy instantly backed off. It was amazing.”
Stephen Houldsworth lived louder, loved harder, and fought longer than most dared. He showed us that activism is not a phase, it’s a life, an art form, a love language, and an active refusal to be erased. In a world still trying to dim Queer brilliance, Stephen burned bright. Now it’s our turn to carry that torch, not just in the streets, but in classrooms, boardrooms, museums, the Board of Aldermen, art galleries, and every quiet corner where the toxicity of injustice festers. Stephen’s life reminds us of what’s possible when courage meets care and justice is pursued not only out of obligation, but also out of radical love and a commitment to community.
