The Brief

In the 1960’s, a raven-haired and svelte drag performer was one of the hottest acts in L.A.’s nightclub scene.

Sir Lady Java, an openly trans woman of color, had a popular dance and comedy routine that drew stars like Sammy Davis Jr. and Richard Pryor. When she showed up in the 1976 cult film “The Human Tornado,” she played herself with effortless charisma.

But behind her swishy gowns and tongue-in-cheek humor was a steely resolve that led to her becoming one of the country’s earliest activists for trans rights.

Sir Lady Java was a star attraction on L.A.'s nightclub circuit during the 1960's.

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MS Thr 1777, Harvard Theatre Collection, Houghton Library, Harvard University

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Java died on November 16 at age 82. Nearly six decades ago, she took on the LAPD when they went after her for performing in drag without police permission as was then required by law.

Actor Hailie Sahar with Sir Lady Java.

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Courtesy Hailie Sahar

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She brought a lawsuit with the help of the ACLU, becoming their first-ever trans client.

Those familiar with Java’s story are hoping she gets her roses even after her passing.

“She was being extremely brave trying to fight this fight,” said Amanda Goad of ACLU Southern California. “There has been a pattern of trans women of color leading the way in almost every area of LGBTQ progress, and that's not always understood and appreciated.”

Destined for the stage

Java’s story began in New Orleans, where she was born to a family with Black, Native American and European heritage.

As a young child, she moved with her family to Riverside, said Hailie Sahar, a longtime friend of Java’s who starred in the series “Pose.”

By Java’s late teens, she was waiting tables at an L.A. nightclub. Soon she was plucked to be on stage.

Skilled at costume design, Sir Lady Java wore elaborate outfits of feathers and sequins in her act.

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MS Thr 1777, Harvard Theatre Collection, Houghton Library, Harvard University

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“She was so stunning, so sexy, so beautiful,” Sahar said.

Her audiences were primarily straight people who experienced a “certain level of sort of voyeurism in imagining this person that they know is born male, that to them, looks like a woman,” said Trevor Ladner, director of Education Programs at One Institute, the oldest LGBTQ+ group in the country.

But “for many trans performers like Lady Java, female impersonation gave them an opportunity to have financial stability, to have a job and to also be able to express their gender and be affirmed in their gender, in the way that they perceive themselves,” Ladner said.

Java booked clubs like the Redd Foxx on La Cienega Boulevard, which took the stage name of the owner, actor-comedian John Elroy Sanford. Java recalled performances alongside James Brown and Etta James, Sahar said.

“The shows would be lined up around the block, limousines pulling up to see Java,” Sahar said. “People would come from all over town, all over the country to fly in to see Lady Java because they had never seen someone like her from that era.”

Sir Lady Java took on the LAPD in the 1960s when the department tried to shut down her performances.

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Courtesy Hailie Sahar

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She was gossiped over in Jet and Sepia magazines. Her appearances around the country, from San Francisco to Atlanta, attracted headlines.

Her 1967 performances at Le Bistro in Milwaukee inspired the opening of a cabaret that showcased trans talent, according to the Wisconsin LGBTQ History Project.

But with fame came scrutiny.

Rule No. 9

In the 60‘s, L.A. police began enforcing a city ordinance called Rule No. 9 which said it was illegal for a venue to hire someone to perform “by means of costume or dress a person of the opposite sex.” To do so required a special permit issued by the L.A. Board of Police Commissioners.

The rule was introduced during the “lavender scare” of the 1950s, but the LAPD was using it to target drag performers and in 1967 attempted to shut down Java’s show at Redd Foxx Club, said ACLU SoCal’s Goad who directs the group’s LGBTQ, Gender & Reproductive Justice Project.

“They ran everybody out,” Goad said. “They took photos of Java, treating her outfit as evidence of her wrongdoing.”

But Java was determined to challenge the city establishment. She picketed the club over Foxx’s protests, according to a November 1967 edition of Jet Magazine.

In an interview posted in 2016 by her filmmaker friend Tom Porter, she explained why.

“I didn't so much need the money because I was working, but my sisters after me needed it, and I had to make a way for the drag queens to be able to work in the city of Los Angeles, and that was important to me,” Java said.

Sir Lady Java drew attention and acclaim in her appearances in and out of L.A.

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MS Thr 1777, Harvard Theatre Collection, Houghton Library, Harvard University

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After the ACLU took Java's case, they bumped up against what Goad called a technicality: the club owner was the one being harmed, not Java. So the ACLU looked for owners who’d be willing to file their own suits.

“But that didn't work out, probably because club owners were invested in keeping a good relationship with the LAPD,” Goad said.

Goad says the case was dismissed, but Java didn’t give up. She led protests in L.A. that widened awareness about Rule No. 9.

After being the target of separate legal action, the rule was no longer in effect in 1969. Performers could wear whatever they want — a big win that resonates to this day with younger generations.

“She was not ashamed, which I love,” said Bailey Linares, a 17-year-old from Wilmington who has been studying LGBTQ+ history through a teen program with One Institute.

It boggles her mind to imagine what Java went through.

Sir Lady Java was written about in Sepia and Jet magazines.

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MS Thr 1777, Harvard Theatre Collection, Houghton Library, Harvard University

)

“You go outside and you get arrested for — I don't know — wearing just something that doesn't correlate to your gender, which is crazy to think of,” Linares said. ”And now we don't even think of that.”

But with progress comes new challenges for the LGBTQ+ community. ACLU SoCal's Goad cites recent attempts to ban drag performances around the country.

“They're really not that different from Rule No. 9 in terms of prohibiting certain kinds of entertainment performance that's perceived as gender bending and somehow harmful,” Goad said.

Goad says she’s reminding herself of pioneers like Java who have fought this battle before.

Taking stock of her impact

Java’s friend Hailie Sahar said the performer stayed humble, even after she was featured in a Hollywood mural and museum exhibit and chosen to lead L.A. Pride as community grand marshal in 2022.

“I would say, ‘Java, do you realize that you laid the groundwork to ignite this community?’” Sahar recalled. “And she would take a beat, and she would say, ‘You know what? I don't think about it that way, but I did.’

Java, in an interview several years ago, expressed joy at how the LGBTQ+ community had grown in strength over her lifetime — a stark contrast to when she was young.

“There was nothing to help us,” she said. “No one cared. So I had to care, and I kept on, kept on and kept on.”

Java’s long life, which saw her suffer two strokes, is itself a testament to her resiliency in a world where trans people, especially those of color, face heightened threats of violence and discrimination, says Rory Hayes, One Institute’s public programs manager.

“It is something powerful as a young trans person to see the length of her life,” said Hayes, who is 25. “It's a relief to know that she was loved and cared for up until her last day.”

A Hollywood mural commissioned by the city of L.A. features, from left, Sir Lady Java, Jewel Thais-Williams, Tim Dang, Alan Bell, Mia Yamamoto and Katrina Samala.

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Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times via Getty Image

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Los Angeles Times

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Sahar hopes more people will learn about Java in the near future.

The actor is working on bringing Java’s story to life onscreen in a project she said is in pre-production.

Sahar would play the Java, having been coached for the role for years by none other than the pro herself.

In just four days, the Los Angeles Official Martin Luther King Day Parade will take over South L.A.

The LA Local recently spoke with Sabra Wady, the parade’s lead organizer, who said this year’s parade will look much the same as recent years.

So, whether you’re attending the parade or watching it on TV, here’s everything you need to know about Monday’s parade:

The procession will begin at 10 a.m., with ABC7 set to begin a broadcast at 11 a.m.

What time does the parade start? How can I watch? Is anything happening after?

Wady said the best place to catch the parade in person is the intersection of Crenshaw Boulevard and Martin Luther King Jr. King Boulevard, or “camera corner,” where the parade will culminate and organizers are planning a live preshow. Bleacher seats, though, will be limited.

The Metro K Line runs directly to the intersection, dropping people off at the Martin Luther King Jr. Metro station.

Onlookers can also post up along the parade route with folding chairs and other self-arranged seating, Wady said.

The parade broadcast will run until 1 p.m., but Wady said the procession is expected to keep going until mid-afternoon.

“After the cameras stop rolling, it’s the people’s parade,” Wady said.

LA City Council President Marqueece Harris-Dawson and Councilmembers Curren Price and Heather Hutt – who represent council districts 8, 9 and 10, respectively — will organize the annual MLK Freedom Festival in the Leimert Park Plaza from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.

What route will the parade take?

The route will remain the same, running down King Boulevard from Western Avenue to Crenshaw Boulevard before turning south down Crenshaw and heading to Leimert Park. Much of the route will be closed to traffic overnight before the parade.

More than 150 groups, including bands, floats, horseback riders and marchers, will trek down the boulevard. Wady said organizers cut off new sign-ups weeks ago in order to keep the parade manageable.

What will road closures look like?

Colin Sweeney, a spokesperson for the LA Department of Transportation, said in an email that the department will close off traffic down the main parade route overnight.

Here are the roads that will be closed to all vehicles for the duration of the parade and festival.

• King Boulevard from Vermont Avenue to Crenshaw Boulevard 
• Crenshaw Boulevard from King Boulevard to 48th Street
• Leimert Boulevard from 8th Avenue to Leimert Park 
• Degnan Avenue between 43rd Street and Leimert Park

Sweeney said only residents will be allowed to drive into the band of neighborhoods directly along the length of the parade route. That includes the blocks from 39th Street to 42nd Street along King Boulevard and the blocks between McClung Drive and Victoria Avenue along the Crenshaw closure.

The transportation department will allow traffic to cross the parade route at major intersections — including Western Avenue, Arlington Avenue and Stocker Street — but those crossings will be shut down at 10 a.m. All closed roads will stay blocked off until the parade and festival wrap up and transportation officials determine crowds have sufficiently dispersed, Sweeney said.

Wady said the parade is expected to peter out around mid-afternoon. The festival at Leimert Park Plaza is scheduled to end at 5 p.m.

Vehicles parked in the parade assembly area, parade route and disbanding area will be subject to impound or tickets, Sweeney wrote.

Topline:

By the numbers: Film and television shoot days totaled 4,625 in the final three months of 2025, up 5.1% in that timeframe. But overall last year, there were 19,694 shoot days, which is down 16.1% from 2024's total of 23.480.

Why it matters: Production in Los Angeles has been slow to rebound since the COVID-19 pandemic and the Hollywood writers and actors strikes in 2023. There is also increased competition from other states that offer appealing film tax credits and other incentives for productions that decide to take their shoot outside of California. This summer, Gov. Gavin Newsom expanded California's Film and TV Tax Credit Program in an effort to lure productions back to the Golden State.

What's next: Film L.A.'s Phil Sokoloski says that many of the productions approved under the expanded tax credit program are just now getting underway, and he hopes the industry will start to see the effects of not only the tax incentive expansion in 2026, but also L.A. Mayor Karen Bass' directives to streamline the permitting and shooting process in the city.

In L.A., there is no shortage of events to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day this year.

Since 1986, the federal holiday is observed on the third Monday of January to honor the life and legacy of the Civil Rights leader.

California African American Museum

The California African American Museum is hosting a King Day scavenger hunt on Sunday from 2 to 3 p.m. On Monday, it is hosting an all-day event honoring King that will culminate with a performance by the Inner City Youth Orchestra of L.A., which is billed as the largest majority Black youth orchestra in the country.

Orchestra at Skirball

The orchestra will also perform at the Skirball Cultural Center on Saturday evening. The free event is already at capacity, but you can try your luck by signing up for the waitlist here. Earlier Saturday, the orchestra will join the Santa Monica Symphony for its annual MLK concert.

Parades and celebrations

Cedric the Entertainer will be the grand marshal of this year’s official L.A. MLK Day Parade on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard between Western and Crenshaw avenues on Monday. If you’re looking for a parade earlier in the weekend, you can head to Long Beach’s MLK Day parade on Saturday. Also on Saturday is a celebration of King’s legacy at the Veterans Memorial Auditorium in Culver City.

Volunteer opportunities

In 1994, President Bill Clinton officially decreed MLK Day as a day of service. If you’re looking for opportunities to volunteer, grab free tickets to Monday’s MLK Day Volunteer Festival at the L.A. Memorial Coliseum.

Free access to state parks

Gov. Gavin Newsom announced Friday that more than 200 California state parks will be free to enter on Monday. The move comes after the Trump administration eliminated MLK Day and Juneteenth from the list of days when it’s free to access national parks. There are 12 free state parks on the list in L.A. County, including Los Angeles and Will Rogers State Historic Parks, as well as Topanga and Malibu Creek State Parks. See the full list here.

A 2017 Los Angeles Times article tells the tragic story of Lai Hang, a terminally ill woman who killed her 18-year-old son George, who’d been diagnosed with schizophrenia.

It’s a carefully reported story by journalist Frank Shyong about a family, about the shame and stigma that can surround mental illness in Asian American communities, and how media portrayals of people with mental disorders can perpetuate harmful misconceptions.

So when Shyong was first approached about the idea of adapting the story he wrote into a narrative film, he had some “very intense” concerns about whether a film would get the story right.

But after conversations with the filmmakers, and thinking through the potential value of telling fictionalized stories based on real-life events, Shyong says, “ I think I realized that my story was in a lot of ways incomplete.”

Nine years later, the film, titled Rosemead, is finished. Directed by Eric Lin and written by Marilyn Fu, the film stars Lucy Liu as Irene, a character based on Hang, and Lawrence Shou as Joe, who’s based on George.

And Shyong, who is credited as an executive producer and served as a consultant on the film, says “it’s sort of completing the circle a little bit” — fleshing out Hang and George as “full 360 degree human beings” and giving glimpses of how their story might have ended differently.

Reporting on trauma in Asian American communities

Back in 2015, when the events depicted in Rosemead happened, the breaking news coverage revealed the basics of what was known at the time — that a woman had fatally shot her son in a Rosemead motel and turned herself in.

“ I think a lot of people probably realized there was more story there,” Shyong says. But the only person who knew the details, Hang’s longtime friend Ping Chong, had declined to talk to the media.

Still, Shyong kept following up because the court records hinted at a story that he thought should be told.

The court records revealed that Hang had been dying of cancer, and that Chong continued to visit her after she turned herself in, performing Buddhist rituals for her.

“Just knowing those two facts,” Shyong says, “and knowing Asian American families, and how complete and terrifying the sense of responsibility that a parent can feel toward a child, I just thought there's gotta be something there.”

He would visit Chong’s shop, a traditional Chinese pharmacy, leaving notes for her and talking to her about why he wanted to know more. And he gained her trust.

 ”You just have to say, ‘This is [the] story I think is here. And do you think that story is true? And if so, can you help me tell it?’ And that's all I did,” Shyong says. “I think that's all any journalist ever does.”

It’s a story that Shyong says he would come to learn is more common than many may expect.   “When you are a caregiver in these communities,” Shyong says, “you can find and name a tragic story like this in probably every zip code.”

How filmmaking and journalism can complement each other

Shyong’s article ends with this poignant quote from Chong, about her friend: “People will only know her as the mother who killed her son [...] But she was more.”

The piece itself goes a long way toward dispelling Chong’s concern, including details about Hang’s life — that she was a talented graphic designer, that she was “beautiful, smart and ambitious,” that she’d lost her husband to cancer, and that she deeply cared about her son.

But “in this case fiction,” Shyong says, “could give closure to characters in a way that I couldn't in reality. It could tell the fullness of this family story.”

The film shows Liu’s character Irene having fun with her son at the beach, and joining his therapy sessions at the urging of a psychiatrist, despite being visibly uncomfortable doing so.

It shows George (Joe in the film) with his friends, who come to visit him after he has an intense schizophrenic episode at school.

The sound design gives a sense of what it’s like to experience schizophrenia, and a part of the film where Joe runs away shows how quickly a boy with a mother and friends who care about him can become an unhoused person who someone might fear on the street.

Ultimately, the film ends on a note of hope, which grew out of something that Shyong learned from Chong after the article was published. In a way that he couldn’t do in print, “It added parts to the story that I wanted to see depicted.”