‘He was like my little brother': Billy Zane on Heath Ledger, Leonardo DiCaprio, and 40 years in Hollywood
As Hansel (Owen Wilson) says in Zoolander: 'Listen to your friend Billy Zane. He's a cool dude.' Billy Zane, 59, is a cool dude. I know this firsthand now.
There he is on my laptop screen, sitting in his lounge room in Los Angeles, a guitar and a set of bongo drums along the wall behind him. Los Angeles' anti-ICE protests might be escalating outside his doors, but he's unflappably suave in black-rimmed glasses and a black shirt unbuttoned to his chest hair, as we discuss his 40-year acting career, ahead of his appearance at Sydney's Supanova pop culture festival this weekend.
I hear you're flying out to Europe today.
That's tomorrow.
What for?
The film festival in Taormina in Sicily. They're playing a film I directed called Int.Hallway/Night, an existentialist comedy set behind the scenes of a dysfunctional B-movie set. It's funny, quite European in its flair, a little bit Truffaut and Fellini but with a Curb Your Enthusiasm tone. We're screening it at this lovely festival, where apparently Martin Scorsese will be screening a 4K version of Taxi Driver in a 6000-seat amphitheatre or something.
Is this the first film you've directed?
Technically. It's the first I've directed to be released. I have one that was caught up in the French courts for a bit. It's a quagmire, this trade, I have to tell you. But we've resuscitated it and that will see the light of day. That project was something I made many years ago, so it's going to be like corking a bottle of wine when it comes out.
What was the issue with it?
We don't have the time.
Fair enough. You have a long relationship with Australia, going back to Dead Calm (1989), your breakout film with a young Nicole Kidman. Is it true your sister dated Heath Ledger for a while, too?
Yeah, they met on the set of Roar which they shot there for some years. Then he came back with her to LA and they were living together. There was a groovy kind of happening called The Masses that we all contributed to.
The Masses. Nice.
It was an art collective, young filmmakers and video directors and musicians feeding each other's interests. I'd give [Heath] my Super 8 camera to play with or introduce him to the wheels of steel, my ones and twos. He enjoyed DJing quite a bit. It was fun. He was like my little brother.
Wait, you used to DJ?
Not publicly, just for my own parties. I'd always come back from London with boxes of records. I liked mashing up the bpm of drum and bass against, like, anything – even spoken word and weird little stories. I remember finding a nice pocket with an early PJ Harvey track and some Metalheadz, which kind of bent your brain in the best way possible.
So Heath was basically part of your family for a while. Did he go over for, like, Greek family dinners?
(laughs) Well, we would always bust out the Greek if there was a meal to be had, but it was more my sister threw these great Steak + Cake parties, which was maybe Spartan in its minimalism, but they were very binary and quite efficient. Great wine, filet mignon, fabulous cake, and good music.
Your film career's been going 40 years now, ever since your first role in Back to the Future. What's the thing people mostly want to talk to you about?
The Phantom (1996) always comes up and Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight (1995), which were two of my favourite films. I always liked the sweetness of The Phantom and the idea that he doesn't kill, which I think is an important message today in the spate of first-person body counts and movies that are just a series of bludgeonings. He's a white hat hero, which is hard to find today. There's so much trauma drama and origin stories supporting vengeance play.
I want to talk about my favourite show: Twin Peaks. In Season Two, you had a role as John Justice Wheeler, playboy love interest to Audrey Horne (Sherilyn Fenn). It was a very short-lived storyline. Your character was suddenly rushed off to South America. It felt incomplete, then I read into it and it sounds like there was a whole other plan for it.
Tell me, I have no idea.
Sherilyn Fenn said you were supposed to whisk Audrey away from Twin Peaks and then she was gonna get her own spin-off set in LA.
What? Is this fan fiction?
No, this is Sherilyn Fenn speaking in an interview, like, a decade ago. [She also said Zane was only brought into the show because Lara Flynn Boyle, who was dating Kyle MacLachlan at the time, was getting jealous of the love story the show was spinning between Agent Cooper and Audrey.]
Oh God, if only. I would have loved that. That was a pinch-me moment when they called me up. Leave it to [David] Lynch to cast against type. At that time, I was known as 'bad boy on a boat'. Got a boat? I'm your guy, just add water. Then he goes, I know, I'll hire the most tweaked out psycho to be the Gary Cooper, straight-laced guy here. Those are the kind of roles I wanted to play.
What was David Lynch like at the time?
Generous. Cool. Sweet. Just like he always sounded, rest his lovely soul. Collaborative. Open. Brilliant. Kind. Inclusive. He was a bit of a DJ, too. His sound cart always had music playing; that was him creating a unifying field for his crew. I'd witnessed that while visiting the set of Lost Highway. He was filming in my neighbourhood and I knew some of the cast – Natasha Wagner, Balthazar Getty – and I was watching him just play this drone that wasn't so much music but more a soundscape. It brought people into a zone right before it was time to shoot. I thought that was really smart, and I kept it in my kit bag. It keeps everyone in the same mindset and tone of what you're trying to achieve, not looking for the next job or thinking about lunch.
Another movie I always loved is Only You (1994). You played the fake Damon Bradley. Everyone knows your cameo in Zoolander, but even back then you were taking the piss out of your pretty boy, suave persona.
Absolutely. Self-deprecation and a well-timed prat fall, that's the thing. I love Chaplin and Peter Sellers, the economy of a physical gag. I can't help but infuse that in my work, or at least a glimmer of it. You'll see it in Titanic even. If you watch Cal in terms of his reactions to information as it comes in, he doesn't really care. He knows he's getting off the boat. It's that confidence of like, sinking-schminking. The arrogance is hysterical. It feeds the narrative and the hubris of the age he carries, but there's such an absurdity that it would make [James] Cameron and I giggle. He'd yell 'Cut!' and we'd laugh our asses off because the character was such a tool.
Speaking of Titanic (1997), there's a famous New York Magazine article titled Leo, Prince of the City, written by Nancy Jo Sales and published back in 1998, right after Titanic blew up and Leonardo DiCaprio became the biggest star on the planet. Do you remember experiencing that phenomenon of Leo? You were like 10 years older than him. Were you concerned for him or excited?
Oh, excited. He was a lovely guy, still is. We were pals, but there was also a mutual appreciation for each other's work. We'd see each other socially before Titanic, so when we both got the gig, it was like, 'Oh, this is gonna be a hoot.' But watching that unfold… I remember when we were filming Titanic, we drove breakneck to the Chinese Theatre one night for the premiere of Romeo + Juliet (1996) and then drove back in the early hours to be on set again. And it was nice seeing him blowing up in real time, even before Titanic. Romeo + Juliet was really the start of it. We were like, 'Oh, so it begins. Just wait till they see you running around with your little suspenders!'
Were you partying with him at that time?
I mean, yeah, I was living in New York in the late '90s and we were like neighbours. I lived next door to The Mercer and I knew his crew, they were all young actors. But I was not part of... the pack.
The 'Pussy Posse'.
'Welcome elder statesman…' Like the old man who'd roll in with sage advice for the young bucks having their day. No. But it was fun to watch. He did just fine. That kid didn't need much help.
Your audition tape for Dirty Dancing (1987) that came to light a few years ago: is it true you were cast in that film, but then they saw you dance and changed their minds?
No, no. I auditioned for it, and I had made the short list. But there were two couples shortlisted in the end: Sarah Jessica Parker and I, and Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey. I danced, but he was a trained dancer. I could move, but I wasn't a Broadway star.
He was born into a dancing family.
His mum was a choreographer! He was a perfect Johnny Castle. I was coming at it a little more like an Elvis movie.
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Do you ever go down the pathway of, like, what would have happened if you got that?
I tend to subscribe to the notion that everything is perfect, so I don't know. A whole different kind of vibe. I don't think I would have done Dead Calm. I probably would've ended up posing on movie posters with a gun and the word 'cop' in the title. Carwash Cop! Kickboxer Cop!

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Courier-Mail
19 hours ago
- Courier-Mail
I'm a beach club aficionado, these are the world's best beach clubs
Don't miss out on the headlines from Lifestyle. Followed categories will be added to My News. You can't skip the beach clubs of Mykonos. Or so I told my friends a few summers ago as we marched along the sand of Psarou like a troop of pleasure-seeking boy scouts. Nammos is king of the beach clubs, the Mount Olympus of revelry, whose sunbeds are snapped up like hotcakes and whose teal-striped parasols have a mythical aura. 'Space for three?' I asked brightly, surveying the heaving scene. 'We're full,' a staffer replied with a mix of pity and disdain. Flustered, I broke out my broken Greek – miraculously the sea of bodies parted. 'Why didn't you tell me you were Greek?' said the now effusive hostess, before ejecting three unsuspecting German guests from their loungers. X SUBSCRIBER ONLY I felt a twinge of guilt, but as we sipped our Frozen Spritzes, lolled in the viridian water and swayed to electronic beats under the Aegean sun, it soon subsided. The chaises were €100 each (they go for even more these days) but our afternoon at Nammos was one for the ages – a euphoric day out, which somehow justified the Croesus-level spend. Nammos is one of Mykonos' most glamorous beach clubs. Beach clubs are my (sandy) Achilles' heel. There's something irresistible about the combination of sun, sand and Daiquiri-fuelled hedonism. It may have something to do with not really having beach clubs here in Australia. We're too egalitarian for such elitist pursuits, apparently. In comparison to the louche playgrounds of southern Europe, our coastal gatherings seem puritanical and parochial. When orderly rows of sunbeds meet disorderly carousing it's almost always a gas. Beach, blanket, bada bing! When I'm abroad, I seek them out. As its name attests, Carpe Diem on the Croatian island of Hvar is all about seizing the day. I found that it's also about nabbing the night. We arrived at the waterfront for sunset drinks bar and, galvanised by our new clique of international friends, migrated to the nearby isle of Marinkovac for a raucous after-party. A fleet of water-taxis ferried revellers back and forth. A fan of exit strategies, I asked our driver to wait – handy when everyone bolted at the same time. Carpe Diem beach club on the Croatian island of Hvar. One of the headiest beach boites is Bagni Fiore near Portofino. On the day I visited it resembled a shoot for Italian Vogue, not least because its bamboo furnishings were dressed in Dior's signature pattern. The apex of aperitivo, the menu included Caprese salad with anchovies, tuna carpaccio and vermouth cocktails. My lounger was on a deck cantilevered over the water. From this picture-perfect vantage, I watched the sun bounce off Paraggi Bay like a strobe light. Another favourite is Maçakizi on the Turkish Riviera, a beach club so buzzing it doesn't even need a beach. An extension of the hotel in Bodrum, festooned with chains of bougainvillea, its waterfront deck is protected by a retractable awning. A little wave caught the attention of staffers who used a long rod to adjust the glare. The regulars tend to dazzle, too. Maçakizi is a magnet for stylish Istanbulis, jet-setters and yachties who leap across each other's boats to reach the dock. The food is a drawcard at Mykonos' Nammos beach club. Judging by the lissome individuals who gravitate to these places, you might assume food isn't a priority. But the leading beach clubs of Europe, in an attempt to stand out from the pack, have ratcheted up their culinary offerings. Nammos has a glammed-up taverna serving hearty plates of grilled octopus, baked saganaki and mussels in white wine as good as anywhere. At Assaona in Mallorca, a chiringuito with fringed umbrellas, I was wowed by its exquisitely grilled sea bass topped with Padrón peppers. At Beachouse Ibiza, it was the spinach croquetas and pineapple cócteles that inspired me to return for another spell. You could write a hefty coffee-table book on the history of beach clubs, and their fusion of grit and glamour. The French era of the '50s was pivotal to the genre's development. That's when venues like Club 55 in Saint-Tropez emerged, and Hollywood starlets Audrey Hepburn, Sophia Loren and Brigitte Bardot flocked to the Riviera. In the 1956 film And God Created Woman, Roger Vadim captured Bardot gambolling on the sand of the Tahiti Beach club – launching both to the world. The French are also responsible for 'Hamptons water', aka Whispering Angel rosé from Provence, which seems to be the dainty drink of choice for so many beachside revellers. Personally, I can't stand it. Too insipid. Nikki Beach has expanded from Miami (pictured) to locations around the world. Nikki Beach, born in Miami in 1998, was one of the earliest clubs to champion a bacchanalian vibe with DJ sets, all-white decor and spontaneous dancing in crochet bikinis. Its approach has clearly worked: the brand has expanded to St Barts, Santorini and Dubai among other urbane stops. It's also spawned a glitzy hotel, for guests who never want the party to end. Here's where I draw a line in the sand. The Nikki version feels formulaic and flashy. It verges on Real Housewives terrain – like it was scripted for cameras. Maybe I'm a lush but I enjoy a tipple by the water and it doesn't need to come with an exorbitant entry fee. For that, nowhere can compete with Rio and the ramshackle bars on Ipanema with waiters shaking up fruit-filled cocktails – an Amazonian jungle of citrus arrayed on rickety tables. Before me were some of the most genetically gifted people in the world, preening, parading and playing soccer in the shallows. I needed a bracing drink to match this cavalcade of beauty, and the lush Passion Fruit Caipirinha was it. Not every sandy soirée puts decadence above all else. Potato Head Beach Club in Bali is devoted to 'regenerative hospitality' – accenting sustainability and hosting a raft of wellness workshops. You can enjoy an arak-fuelled sundowner while watching Seminyak's skyline, and you could also arrive earlier for a meditation, sound healing or breathwork session. It's a holistic hotspot – I'm ready for it. Originally published as I'm a beach club aficionado, these are the world's best beach clubs


SBS Australia
2 days ago
- SBS Australia
Amid violent clashes with police over ICE raids, one community is flocking to LA
In downtown LA during the ICE raid protests, drag queen Lil Miss Hot Mess stands defiantly in sequins and feathers, a striking contrast to the celebration and sanctuary found in West Hollywood during Pride month. Source: Supplied / Lil Miss Hot Mess Los Angeles is a sprawling city that has long attracted artists, migrants, activists, and queer folk, searching for a sense of safety and freedom. West Hollywood in the city's north-west, in particular, has stood apart as a cultural and political sanctuary for LGBTIQ+ people for decades. Today, that legacy feels both vital and increasingly complex. Protests erupted earlier this month in response to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids targeting undocumented immigrants in LA's Downtown and Latino neighbourhoods, such as Paramount. In the weeks since, clashes with police, the unprecedented deployment of the national guard and growing fear among immigrant communities have created an atmosphere of unrest and uncertainty. But West Hollywood feels worlds apart. While only a few kilometres away from neighbourhoods targeted by ICE, culturally and politically, West Hollywood, or WeHo, functions like its own city. It's a place with rainbow-painted crosswalks and a long-standing commitment to queer liberation. At a time of mounting social discord in the United States, and in the middle of International Pride Month, West Hollywood continues to draw queer and trans people from across the country, particularly those fleeing conservative states where LGBTIQ+ rights are under attack. For many, this small pocket of LA still offers a sense of safety, joy and belonging. On a warm evening in mid-May, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses fills WeHo's One Gallery. It's the anticipated calm before the glitter storm as patrons eagerly await their hosts' grand entrance: The crowd is an eclectic mix of activists, members of the drag community and local politicians, including West Hollywood mayor Chelsea Lee Byers. Mounted on the wall above them are archival photos of drag legends, including a very young RuPaul, Charles Pierce and Jackie Beat. It's the opening reception for It's Where I Belong: 40 Years (and More) of Drag in West Hollywood, a new exhibition hosted by the One Institute, celebrating four decades of drag culture in the city. The exhibition's curator is drag performer, children's book author, and university professor Lil Miss Hot Mess, who just a few weeks before was publicly labelled a "monster" and a "child predator" by controversial Republican congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene . The remarks came during a hearing in which Greene pushed to defund public broadcasters PBS and NPR, accusing the outlets of acting as "radical left-wing echo chambers" and of "grooming and sexualising children". Lil Miss Hot Mess tells SBS News she isn't surprised by the remarks. "The unfortunate irony of Greene's political bullying is that while she claims to promote liberty, in reality, she just wants to tell us all what to think and do. That's not freedom, that's fascism," she says. When people say we don't want to have drag, guess what they're gonna get? More drag. The exhibition offers a vivid reminder that West Hollywood has long served as both a creative epicentre and a sanctuary for queer communities. Yet, for many who now call WeHo home, that sense of refuge extends beyond art and performance. Increasingly, queer and trans folks are fleeing red states (Republican stronghold states), such as Arkansas and Alabama, where anti-LGBTIQ+ legislation has taken centre stage and finding solace among the rainbow flags lining Santa Monica Boulevard. For some, that journey means uprooting entire lives and families; for others, it's a gradual migration or simply an annual visit during Pride, in search of acceptance, safety and a community that feels like home. "West Hollywood has long been a safe destination for queer people, who were a central constituency in the city-within-a-city's founding forty years ago," Lil Miss Hot Mess says. "Over the past four decades, drag has really flourished as an art form in WeHo, from iconic nightclubs … to community activism and fundraising." Tony Valenzuela, executive director of One Institute, is a leading activist and thought leader in the HIV/AIDS and LGBTIQ+ communities. He is also openly vocal about his HIV positive status, after receiving his diagnosis in 1995. "I was constantly around mostly gay men who were dying," Valenzuela says. "I saw it as a death sentence for myself." But far from it. Valenzuela's activism following his diagnosis has earned him two listings in the OUT100 list, representing the country's most influential LGBTIQ+ leaders. Speaking on the recent funding cuts impacting queer communities and renewed political assaults on LGBTIQ+ rights across the country under President Donald Trump, Valenzuela says the sentiment among the queer community is familiar. "This feels like the 90s all over again," he says, referencing the alienating impact the HIV/AIDS epidemic had on the community. The latest US federal budget proposal slashes funding for LGBTIQ+ initiatives, including diversity, equity and inclusion programs, transgender healthcare access and HIV/AIDS services, amounting to roughly US$2.67 billion ($4.11 billion) in cuts. When Rory Hayes thinks of Chicago, where they came out as lesbian at age 10 — several years before they realised they were trans non-binary — they are flooded with bittersweet memories. "Chicago today is very queer-friendly, but when I was a kid, I faced hostile conversations from a mum who thought public school was making me 'think these ideas'," Hayes says. "At 12, I was sent to conversion therapy disguised as a weight-loss camp. "It taught me that wanting to be myself was wrong. So when that same city saw a violent attack on lesbians near Wrigleyville, even if it was isolated, it felt like a sign that I didn't truly belong." When Hayes later decided to move to LA at 17, they never looked back. I felt a hundred per cent more like myself. I wasn't around anything that reminded me of those places where I felt unsafe. "West Hollywood felt very queer, objectively safe. Now, with anti-trans bills cropping up nationwide, I'm encouraging more folks to spend their time here or even move," they said. One of the most urgent reasons queer trans people are relocating to West Hollywood is to access to gender-affirming care . California's laws are overtly supportive of it, while other states — notably those with a Republican majority — are increasingly restricting access. To date, 27 states in the US have passed laws banning gender-affirming care. Medicaid, a joint federal and state program that provides subsidised healthcare to some people with limited income and resources, covers hormone replacement therapy (HRT) for trans youth and adults, and California has explicit protections for providers. Whereas states like Texas have passed bills criminalising doctors prescribing HRT to minors, and Florida's 'Parents' Bill of Rights' has led to hospitals being investigated for treating trans youth. "Even if they [trans people] come for the medical access, like Medicaid coverage for HRT, they often stay [in WeHo] for the community," Hayes says. They add that, for many, a single prescription or hormone injection can become the first step towards rebuilding their lives, and WeHo offers both the care they need and an unbroken network of support. "I still miss my hometown, but I needed to be in a place that actively lifts queer stories. West Hollywood lets me be seen," Hayes says. Just a few blocks away from One Gallery, Fangirl Café pulses with a different kind of energy. Since opening in November 2023, the married queer couple, Cynthia and Betsy, has built the little coffee shop into a haven for women, queer, and non-binary music fans tired of bar culture. The pair requested that SBS News withhold their surnames for safety reasons. "During COVID, Betsy was bartending at music venues, and I was working from home," Cynthia says. "We kept meeting in random coffee shops, looking for a space to connect, especially for queer women. But WeHo, for all its queerness, lacked a spot like this." Inside the café on a quiet weekday, vinyl spins in the corner, and a small stage stands ready for acoustic sets, drag karaoke, and album listening parties. "We wanted to centre music and 90s nostalgia, uplift queer and non-binary artists, photographers, videographers," Cynthia says. "Our approach was simple: be honest about what we can provide, and the right crowd will find us. Since launch, people have come for coffee and stayed for community." Seeing trans friends hug and cry on our couches, telling us 'thank you for this space' makes every late night worth it. But running a small business in WeHo isn't without its struggles. "There's so much political anxiety. Trans identities are literally being erased, and the current climate means that people are more comfortable being outwardly and unwarrantedly hateful," Betsy says. "And sometimes there's anxiety: will queer funding dry up? If someone can't afford coffee, can they still find support here?" Despite lingering concerns about further cuts to LGBTIQ+ focused initiatives, the community in WeHo has rallied. Betsy says it's a testament to their resilience that "queer spaces can flourish even under pressure". "One regular posted online asking how they can help keep our space running when things get tough financially. Another trans guest set up a letter-writing event here when politics got heavy. "It's proof, for us, this isn't just a business, it's a safe space people rely on."


SBS Australia
2 days ago
- SBS Australia
'That's not freedom, that's fascism': Why queer Americans are fleeing red states for LA
In downtown LA during the ICE raid protests, drag queen Lil Miss Hot Mess stands defiantly in sequins and feathers, a striking contrast to the celebration and sanctuary found in West Hollywood during Pride month. Source: Supplied / Lil Miss Hot Mess Los Angeles is a sprawling city that has long attracted artists, migrants, activists, and queer folk, searching for a sense of safety and freedom. West Hollywood in the city's north-west, in particular, has stood apart as a cultural and political sanctuary for LGBTIQ+ people for decades. Today, that legacy feels both vital and increasingly complex. Protests erupted earlier this month in response to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids targeting undocumented immigrants in LA's Downtown and Latino neighbourhoods, such as Paramount. In the weeks since, clashes with police, the unprecedented deployment of the national guard and growing fear among immigrant communities have created an atmosphere of unrest and uncertainty. But West Hollywood feels worlds apart. While only a few kilometres away from neighbourhoods targeted by ICE, culturally and politically, West Hollywood, or WeHo, functions like its own city. It's a place with rainbow-painted crosswalks and a long-standing commitment to queer liberation. At a time of mounting social discord in the United States, and in the middle of International Pride Month, West Hollywood continues to draw queer and trans people from across the country, particularly those fleeing conservative states where LGBTIQ+ rights are under attack. For many, this small pocket of LA still offers a sense of safety, joy and belonging. On a warm evening in mid-May, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses fills WeHo's One Gallery. It's the anticipated calm before the glitter storm as patrons eagerly await their hosts' grand entrance: The crowd is an eclectic mix of activists, members of the drag community and local politicians, including West Hollywood mayor Chelsea Lee Byers. Mounted on the wall above them are archival photos of drag legends, including a very young RuPaul, Charles Pierce and Jackie Beat. It's the opening reception for It's Where I Belong: 40 Years (and More) of Drag in West Hollywood, a new exhibition hosted by the One Institute, celebrating four decades of drag culture in the city. The exhibition's curator is drag performer, children's book author, and university professor Lil Miss Hot Mess, who just a few weeks before was publicly labelled a "monster" and a "child predator" by controversial Republican congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene . The remarks came during a hearing in which Greene pushed to defund public broadcasters PBS and NPR, accusing the outlets of acting as "radical left-wing echo chambers" and of "grooming and sexualising children". Lil Miss Hot Mess tells SBS News she isn't surprised by the remarks. "The unfortunate irony of Greene's political bullying is that while she claims to promote liberty, in reality, she just wants to tell us all what to think and do. That's not freedom, that's fascism," she says. When people say we don't want to have drag, guess what they're gonna get? More drag. The exhibition offers a vivid reminder that West Hollywood has long served as both a creative epicentre and a sanctuary for queer communities. Yet, for many who now call WeHo home, that sense of refuge extends beyond art and performance. Increasingly, queer and trans folks are fleeing red states (Republican stronghold states), such as Arkansas and Alabama, where anti-LGBTIQ+ legislation has taken centre stage and finding solace among the rainbow flags lining Santa Monica Boulevard. For some, that journey means uprooting entire lives and families; for others, it's a gradual migration or simply an annual visit during Pride, in search of acceptance, safety and a community that feels like home. "West Hollywood has long been a safe destination for queer people, who were a central constituency in the city-within-a-city's founding forty years ago," Lil Miss Hot Mess says. "Over the past four decades, drag has really flourished as an art form in WeHo, from iconic nightclubs … to community activism and fundraising." Tony Valenzuela, executive director of One Institute, is a leading activist and thought leader in the HIV/AIDS and LGBTIQ+ communities. He is also openly vocal about his HIV positive status, after receiving his diagnosis in 1995. "I was constantly around mostly gay men who were dying," Valenzuela says. "I saw it as a death sentence for myself." But far from it. Valenzuela's activism following his diagnosis has earned him two listings in the OUT100 list, representing the country's most influential LGBTIQ+ leaders. Speaking on the recent funding cuts impacting queer communities and renewed political assaults on LGBTIQ+ rights across the country under President Donald Trump, Valenzuela says the sentiment among the queer community is familiar. "This feels like the 90s all over again," he says, referencing the alienating impact the HIV/AIDS epidemic had on the community. The latest US federal budget proposal slashes funding for LGBTIQ+ initiatives, including diversity, equity and inclusion programs, transgender healthcare access and HIV/AIDS services, amounting to roughly US$2.67 billion ($4.11 billion) in cuts. When Rory Hayes thinks of Chicago, where they came out as lesbian at age 10 — several years before they realised they were trans non-binary — they are flooded with bittersweet memories. "Chicago today is very queer-friendly, but when I was a kid, I faced hostile conversations from a mum who thought public school was making me 'think these ideas'," Hayes says. "At 12, I was sent to conversion therapy disguised as a weight-loss camp. "It taught me that wanting to be myself was wrong. So when that same city saw a violent attack on lesbians near Wrigleyville, even if it was isolated, it felt like a sign that I didn't truly belong." When Hayes later decided to move to LA at 17, they never looked back. I felt a hundred per cent more like myself. I wasn't around anything that reminded me of those places where I felt unsafe. "West Hollywood felt very queer, objectively safe. Now, with anti-trans bills cropping up nationwide, I'm encouraging more folks to spend their time here or even move," they said. One of the most urgent reasons queer trans people are relocating to West Hollywood is to access to gender-affirming care . California's laws are overtly supportive of it, while other states — notably those with a Republican majority — are increasingly restricting access. To date, 27 states in the US have passed laws banning gender-affirming care. Medicaid, a joint federal and state program that provides subsidised healthcare to some people with limited income and resources, covers hormone replacement therapy (HRT) for trans youth and adults, and California has explicit protections for providers. Whereas states like Texas have passed bills criminalising doctors prescribing HRT to minors, and Florida's 'Parents' Bill of Rights' has led to hospitals being investigated for treating trans youth. "Even if they [trans people] come for the medical access, like Medicaid coverage for HRT, they often stay [in WeHo] for the community," Hayes says. They add that, for many, a single prescription or hormone injection can become the first step towards rebuilding their lives, and WeHo offers both the care they need and an unbroken network of support. "I still miss my hometown, but I needed to be in a place that actively lifts queer stories. West Hollywood lets me be seen," Hayes says. Just a few blocks away from One Gallery, Fangirl Café pulses with a different kind of energy. Since opening in November 2023, the married queer couple, Cynthia and Betsy, has built the little coffee shop into a haven for women, queer, and non-binary music fans tired of bar culture. The pair requested that SBS News withhold their surnames for safety reasons. "During COVID, Betsy was bartending at music venues, and I was working from home," Cynthia says. "We kept meeting in random coffee shops, looking for a space to connect, especially for queer women. But WeHo, for all its queerness, lacked a spot like this." Inside the café on a quiet weekday, vinyl spins in the corner, and a small stage stands ready for acoustic sets, drag karaoke, and album listening parties. "We wanted to centre music and 90s nostalgia, uplift queer and non-binary artists, photographers, videographers," Cynthia says. "Our approach was simple: be honest about what we can provide, and the right crowd will find us. Since launch, people have come for coffee and stayed for community." Seeing trans friends hug and cry on our couches, telling us 'thank you for this space' makes every late night worth it. But running a small business in WeHo isn't without its struggles. "There's so much political anxiety. Trans identities are literally being erased, and the current climate means that people are more comfortable being outwardly and unwarrantedly hateful," Betsy says. "And sometimes there's anxiety: will queer funding dry up? If someone can't afford coffee, can they still find support here?" Despite lingering concerns about further cuts to LGBTIQ+ focused initiatives, the community in WeHo has rallied. Betsy says it's a testament to their resilience that "queer spaces can flourish even under pressure". "One regular posted online asking how they can help keep our space running when things get tough financially. Another trans guest set up a letter-writing event here when politics got heavy. "It's proof, for us, this isn't just a business, it's a safe space people rely on."