As Pride Month Ends, Learn More about BU Social Scientists’ LGBTQ-Focused Research and Book Recommendations
This article was written by Shayla Brown (CAS ‘ 26). Shayla is the CISS summer writing intern, and a participant in the 2nd annual Social Science Summer Writing Internship Program (SWIP) at BU.
June is Pride Month, an annual month-long commemoration of the contributions of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) culture and community. CISS celebrated Pride Month by highlighting the work of scholars at BU that is LGBTQ+ focused, and learning more about how we can reflect on Pride.
Cati Connell (she/her) is an Associate Professor of Sociology at Boston University and the former Director of BU’s Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Program. She is the author of School’s Out, a study of gay and lesbian teachers, and A Few Good Gays, which examines the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and evolving questions of gender and inclusion in the military. Her current research looks at how the meaning of “lesbian” is shifting in the 21st century. She will be teaching Sexuality and Social Life this fall.
For Professor Cati Connell, Pride Month is about honoring the past as much as celebrating the present. While mainstream narratives have increasingly focused on corporate sponsorships and parades, Connell emphasizes Pride’s radical origins—and why they still matter today.
“Pride has become increasingly sanitized and commercialized, but for me, it’s always an opportunity to reflect on its gay liberationist origins. The Stonewall rebellion and similar protests challenged heterosexual and cisgender privilege—and the institutions that enforce it through criminalization and violence.”
Connell sees this legacy as one of collective resistance, one rooted in coalition and solidarity.
“Gay liberation activists worked in tandem with Black liberation, women’s liberation, and antiwar movements. They understood that systems of oppression are connected—and that liberation has to be too. That’s a lesson we can’t afford to forget, especially in this moment of backlash and growing inequality.”
Despite ongoing political threats, Connell finds hope by looking at how far queer scholarship has come—and how much it has already endured.
“It’s a scary time for higher education and academic freedom. But when we take the long view, it’s remarkable how much queer and trans scholarship has grown, even under immense pressure.”
Connell points to BU’s own Women’s, Gender, & Sexuality Studies program as a local example of that growth.
“Fifteen years ago, it was sustained by just a handful of faculty, often in the face of institutional indifference or outright hostility. Now we have over 50 affiliated faculty, dozens of courses, a graduate certificate program, and some of the most exciting programming on campus.”
That transformation didn’t come easily—but it shows what’s possible through persistence, collaboration, and care.
“Queer and trans studies—and the movements tied to them—have faced attacks before, and they will again. But our collective will and creativity keep carrying us through.”
In her current research, Connell is turning toward the past to think about the present. She’s revisiting lesbian feminist texts of the 1970s and ’80s, and finding that many of the debates and insights from that era still resonate today.
“These works may seem outdated to some, but they’re full of concepts and historical precedents that help make sense of how identities and communities shift—especially as beliefs about sex and gender boundaries evolve.”
She names Audre Lorde, Cherríe Moraga, Gloria Anzaldúa, Cheryl Clarke, Monique Wittig, and Kate Millett as enduring sources of inspiration.
“Their work reminds me what’s possible when we resist inequality and build toward something better—together.”
And when asked to recommend just one piece of queer theory for Pride Month, Connell keeps it concise and clear:
“One-Dimensional Queer by Roderick Ferguson. It’s short, accessible, and powerful. A brilliant history of gay liberation that helps us understand where the revolution began—and how we can keep it going.”
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Landon Lauder (he/him) received his PhD in Sociology from BU in May 2025 and is adjuncting for BU this summer. His PhD research focuses on the cultures and communities of minorities, and his dissertation shows how LGBTQ+ people navigate urban areas, and the social and political factors that play a role in this. His broad interest is the sociology of gender and sexuality. In his interview with CISS Landon shared r insights into his connection to Pride, both academically and personally.
When asked what Pride Month means to him personally and professionally, Landon Lauder was candid about a complicated relationship with the celebration.
“I’ve ironically always had a difficult time with Pride Month. Growing up in the ’90s and early 2000s in a place where Pride was basically anathema made it emotionally tough. But as I learned more and got involved in queer issues, I realized that Pride isn’t just one month—it’s something we do every day: celebrating, advocating, and learning from each other.”
That daily, ongoing sense of Pride comes through in Landon’s research, which digs into how LGBTQIA+ people connect across more than just their immediate neighborhoods.
“Pride takes quite a bit to make happen in a way that actually connects you to more than one local community. My research looks at how queer people draw on an entire region’s resources—transportation, nightlife, digital spaces—to build social, political, romantic, and sexual ties. But access isn’t equal, and there’s still a lot to do to bring queer people together in Boston and surrounding areas.”
When asked what gives him hope about the future of queer scholarship and activism, Landon didn’t hesitate.
“The fact that we keep going. Good grief, we’re tough. When people try to silence us, we find a way to get even louder. We alwys find a way to publish, we always find a way to organize.”
That resilience, combined with a hunger for deeper understanding, is one of the sparks they see lighting the way forward.
“There’s this incredible drive among younger queer people to learn more about queer history and politics. That hunger shows how structurally deprived we’ve been of our own history—and how much we believe in building a better future by really knowing it, not just scrolling social media posts.”
And if you’re wondering what queer text to dive into this Pride Month, Landon recommends a powerful piece by Cathy Cohen.
“Punks, Bulldaggers, and Welfare Queens: The Radical Potential of Queer Politics? is one of my absolute go-tos. Cohen gets at what’s really at stake—not just identity, but our entire way of being, and the politics that affect us all differently.”
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Lida Maxwell (she/they) is a professor in the Political Science department and specializes in a range of disciplines, including Political Theory, Feminist Theory, and Queer Theory to name a few. This fall she will be teaching Feminist Political Theory.
When we asked Professor Lida Maxwell how they reflect on Pride Month, both personally and in the context of their work, they took us back to Boston in the late ’90s.
“I’ve been going to Pride for a long time now. When I was younger, and first started going here in Boston—back when I was in college—it was just exciting to be around so many queer people.”
That feeling hasn’t gone away. For Maxwell, Pride continues to be about community and solidarity.
“It’s still really important in that way. It’s a reminder that we have each other. This year especially, it felt like it got some of its edge back. The crowd was huge.”
Pride, they note, is not just a celebration—it’s also a political moment. A time to remember the radical history of queer resistance and the ongoing work still ahead.
“It’s a chance to reconnect with the radical roots of queer politics—Stonewall, of course, but also just the fact that Pride has always been about struggle and possibility.”
When asked which aspects of her research feel especially important to highlight during Pride, Professor Maxwell reflected on how queer love, feeling, and desire are deeply political—and even ecological.
“My most recent book is about Rachel Carson and Dorothy Freeman, and a big part of it explores how our intimate feelings—especially love—aren’t just private or personal. We often think of love as something internal or shared only between two people, but what I show in the book is that for Carson and Freeman, love was shaped through their relationship to nature—birds, oceans, the sky. Especially birds.”
Maxwell explains that for Carson and Freeman, the beauty and mystery of the natural world helped them understand their feelings for each other as something beautiful—not shameful.
“There’s this old feminist insight: the personal is political. And what Carson and Freeman’s relationship points to is how even our most private joys and pleasures are shaped by the world around us—and that makes them politically meaningful.”
This connection between feeling and politics is central to Maxwell’s work. In Pride Month, when many reflect on identity and belonging, she emphasizes that questioning what brings us joy is itself a radical act.
“We’re taught by a heteronormative culture to believe that certain lives—heterosexual, married, nuclear family—are what bring happiness. But that’s just not true. And when we begin to ask, What do I actually want? What brings me joy?—those are political questions. Not just personal ones.”
She goes further, suggesting that heteronormativity isn’t just a cultural issue—it’s a climate issue.
“We’re instructed to pursue a certain kind of life: buy a house, have kids, consume more. But that model of happiness depends on extraction, on fossil fuels, on unsustainable consumption. Heteronormativity teaches us to desire that way of life—and in doing so, it makes it harder to imagine living differently.”
In a moment of rising anti-queer and anti-trans politics, Maxwell urges us to see how all of this is connected: from climate politics to queer joy, from cultural norms to the economy.
“The systems that tell us who we’re allowed to be also tell us how we’re supposed to live—and what we’re supposed to consume. So when we see anti-trans laws and climate denialism happening at the same time, that’s not a coincidence. They’re both about shutting down possibilities. And Pride, at its best, is about expanding them.”
When asked what gives her hope—especially in the face of rising anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric and legislation—Maxwell doesn’t hesitate. Her answer begins in the classroom.
“There are so many reasons for hope. Teaching here at BU is one of them. I’m constantly inspired by what I hear from students—the kinds of activism they’re involved in, the communities they’re building.”
That sense of hope stretches beyond campus too. As she’s traveled for her book tour, Maxwell has noticed something that feels quietly powerful.
“There’s so much queer hope. People are scared, yes—but they’re also empowered. They’re interested in taking action.”
Maxwell acknowledges the harsh political climate, but she refuses to believe that hate is the dominant story.
“Even as we’re seeing waves of anti-queer and anti-trans politics, I really believe—and the numbers back this up—that most people in this country don’t want that. Most people are supportive of queer and trans communities.”
For her, the work ahead isn’t necessarily about changing minds, but activating the care and solidarity that already exists.
“That’s the mission, right? To create more opportunities for care, love, joy, and political engagement. The cruelty we’re seeing is real—but it’s not the majority. We need to keep creating spaces that reflect the world we actually want to live in.”
We also asked Maxwell what thinkers, movements, or cultural works are currently informing her thinking. The list was long, and the energy behind it—hopeful and grounded.
“There are so many people I’m reading and learning from right now. Dean Spade’s work continues to be really powerful—especially around mutual aid and trans justice. I just picked up a new book by Tourmaline on Marsha P. Johnson that I’m really excited to dive into.”
She also pointed to Adrienne Maree Brown’s writing on transformative justice, and to Sarah Schulman’s Let the Record Show, a sweeping oral history of ACT UP.
“Schulman really breaks down how ACT UP made real change—what their strategies were, how they organized. It’s such an important book for this moment.”
Maxwell also mentioned the work of Paisley Currah on trans politics and legal recognition, as well as ongoing movement efforts on the ground.
“Even when legal fights don’t always succeed, the fight itself matters. There are so many people doing the work—protecting immigrants, resisting fascistic raids, standing up for trans rights. There’s this growing understanding that all these struggles are connected.”
That interconnectedness, she suggests, is both a political truth and a source of strength.
“There’s a kind of queer ecological logic to it—a reminder that care, justice, and resistance are never just about one issue. They’re part of a bigger, shared struggle.”
To close, we asked Maxwell if there’s one piece of queer literature or theor they’d recommend everyone read during Pride Month. Their answer came quickly.
“Audre Lorde’s The Uses of the Erotic. If you haven’t read it, read it. Everyone should.”
Lorde’s essay, Maxwell explains, is a powerful call to reconnect with our deepest desires—especially for those whose emotions and inner lives have been suppressed by dominant norms.
“Lorde shows how our culture encourages us—especially those of us who aren’t cis men—to disconnect from our true desires. Instead, we’re taught to use our energy and care to support patriarchy. The Uses of the Erotic is about undoing that.”
For Maxwell, Lorde’s vision of the erotic isn’t just personal—it’s deeply political.
“Getting in touch with what you truly want is part of how you become powerful. And for Lorde, that kind of power always happens in concert with others. It’s such a beautiful, readable, radical essay.”
When asked what led her to this work—and to queer and feminist theory more broadly—Maxwell reflects on her path with honesty and warmth.
“When I started graduate school in the early 2000s, the expectation was that you studied figures in the Western canon. And I did—I wrote my dissertation in political philosophy. But what really drew me to grad school in the first place was feminist theory.”
Over time, that pull grew stronger. As she found her voice as a scholar, she began asking herself deeper questions: What do I really care about? What do I want to say?
“That’s what led me more fully into feminist and queer theory. The book I just published, on Rachel Carson and Dorothy Freeman, is the favorite thing I’ve ever written. It felt really meaningful to highlight their relationship—and to show how it shaped Carson’s writing of Silent Spring.”
At the heart of it all, she says, is the power of saying something that matters.
“Right now, in this moment, talking about queer people and history and why queer love is valuable and empowering—it’s more important than ever.”
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Sarah Miller (she/her) is an Assistant Professor of Sociology at Boston University, jointly appointed in the Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Program. Her current book project, The Tolerance Generation, explores how digital culture and structural inequality shape young people’s experiences with bullying. Her research more broadly focuses on gender, sexuality, race, youth, and education, and she also serves as Director of Undergraduate Studies for the WGS Program. This summer she is teaching the sociology of gender.
For Sarah Miller, Pride Month is as much about legacy as it is about the future.
“Pride Month is a celebration of LGBTQIA+ life, a commemoration of all of the incredible LGBTQIA+ individuals who have come before us, and a commitment to building more livable worlds for LGBTQIA+ communities in the future.”
That sense of care across generations runs through Miller’s scholarship as well. Her forthcoming book with University of Chicago Press, The Tolerance Generation: Growing Up Online in an Anti-Bullying Era, explores how young people navigate gender and sexuality in a digital world shaped by both restrictions and possibility.
“Straight, cisgender, and LGBTQ teens all face tremendous social and institutional pressure as they grow into themselves—but what I found is that young people, especially those who are non-dominant, are incredibly savvy at supporting each other.”
Her research traces how youth use social media to move beyond surface-level acceptance, building communities for learning, conflict resolution, and collective resistance.
“They’re using digital culture as a space for gender and sexuality education. For real care. It’s about going beyond tolerance—toward something much more radical.”
When asked what gives her hope, Miller acknowledges the difficult moment we’re living in, but refuses to let it dim her belief in the resilience of queer scholarship and activism.
“This kind of research has always faced institutional and funding restrictions. The scale is bigger now, yes—but scholars in this field have long found ways to produce work that matters with limited support.”
She sees potential not in spite of the current political climate, but in response to it.
“This moment reminds us how vital it is to work collectively, to support each other however we can, and to center those farthest from privilege. LGBTQIA+ communities have never been more visible—or more connected. That gives me hope.”
Much of the work she finds most inspiring today is being led by TGDI (transgender, gender diverse, and intersex) activists and grassroots community groups.
“There’s so much powerful organizing happening to support gender-diverse people right now. It deserves to be amplified.” She recommends this recent piece from Them as a starting point for learning more and finding ways to support.
When it comes to Pride Month reading, Miller offers two powerful recommendations.
“José Esteban Muñoz’s Cruising Utopia is a reminder of queerness’s radical potential—its power to help us imagine and build revolutionary futures. And LJ Slovin’s Fierce, Fabulous, and Fluid is a beautiful ethnography that shows how trans high school students engage in world-making as they come of age.”