KATHERINE WALTER dot COM

Participants march in the 53rd annual Chicago Pride Parade on June 30, 2024, in Chicago, Illinois. (Photo by KAMIL KRZACZYNSKI / AFP) (Photo by KAMIL KRZACZYNSKI/AFP via Getty Images)

The Chicago Pride Parade has undergone a dramatic transformation since its early days, shifting from a jubilant, sexually expressive act of defiance into a carefully curated and often sanitized celebration. What was once a radical protest against heteronormativity and state control has become, in many ways, a corporatized festival designed for comfort rather than confrontation. I witnessed this difference firsthand. In 1996, I marched in the Chicago Pride Parade representing Northern Illinois University’s LGBTQ student group. We carried signs demanding queer liberation, chanted with raised fists, and celebrated our bodies and desires publicly, unapologetically. That experience was one of joy, solidarity, and sexual freedom—a moment when Pride was still very much about disrupting societal norms, not being absorbed into them.

Back then, Pride was deeply rooted in the spirit of the Stonewall Riots, which were themselves an uprising against police brutality and sexual repression. The early parades were messy, loud, and intentionally provocative. The presence of leather dykes, drag queens, trans sex workers, and bare-chested men wasn’t seen as a liability to be managed but as a central part of the protest. The parade was a place where queer people could publicly celebrate their sexualities, assert their right to pleasure, and reject the shame imposed by religious institutions, the state, and the medical establishment. As Gayle Rubin (1984) argues in Thinking Sex, sexuality is a frequent site of oppression, and its liberation is integral to broader social justice.

In recent decades, however, the increasing influence of corporate sponsorship and political interests has dulled the parade’s revolutionary edge. Corporate logos now dominate floats where once activists had marched. Politicians use the parade for photo opportunities rather than advocacy. In 2017, members of Black Lives Matter were briefly detained for disrupting the Chicago parade to protest police presence—an incident that underscores how the parade now often serves authority rather than challenges it (Bridges, 2017). These developments reflect a broader trend in which the politics of Pride have been defanged in order to be palatable to mainstream audiences.

As corporate sponsors and city officials pushed to make Pride “family-friendly,” explicit expressions of sexuality became increasingly discouraged. Kink communities, once a visible part of the parade, have been pressured to tone down their presence. Nude or partially clothed participants are often now treated as potential public relations liabilities rather than as rightful members of the LGBTQ spectrum. This retreat from sexual expression is not benign. It represents a fundamental misunderstanding of what queerness means and why visibility matters. As Sarah Schulman (2012) notes in The Gentrification of the Mind, the loss of sexual politics from queer spaces is not accidental but a consequence of neoliberal attempts to assimilate LGBTQ people into systems that continue to marginalize them.

Moreover, this sanitization undermines the very people whose liberation Pride was supposed to champion. Trans people, sex workers, people living with HIV, and those engaged in non-normative sexual practices have seen their visibility diminish just as the broader LGBTQ movement claims “inclusion.” According to Ritchie and Mogul (2007), this erasure aligns with a carceral and assimilationist approach to queer politics—one that values respectability over radicalism and marginalizes those who don’t conform. What was once a space to celebrate and politicize sex has been repackaged into a space where sexuality must be discreet, marketable, and inoffensive.

The shift is especially devastating for younger queer people, who now encounter a version of Pride that often leaves out the sexual energy that was once central to our movement. In Gay Shame, Halperin and Traub (2009) explore how the repression of queer sexuality under the guise of “progress” leads not to freedom, but to a new form of policing—this time from within the community. When Pride becomes merely a parade of sanitized slogans and rainbow logos, we lose not only our history but our future.

The LGBTQ movement was born from sexual deviance, rebellion, and refusal to conform. Sanitizing that history does not protect us—it disarms us. If we allow Pride to become sexually lifeless, we are not making it more inclusive; we are making it less honest. Pride must be reclaimed as a space where queer and trans people can express their desires and bodies with the same unapologetic defiance that launched the movement. Otherwise, it risks becoming a museum piece: brightly colored, well-funded, and utterly devoid of power.

References

Bridges, T. (2017, June 25). Activists protesting police presence at Chicago Pride Parade briefly detained. Chicago Tribune.

Halperin, D. M., & Traub, V. (Eds.). (2009). Gay shame. University of Chicago Press.

Ritchie, A. J., & Mogul, J. L. (2007). In Queer communities, police presence isn’t about safety. ColorLines. https://www.colorlines.com

Rubin, G. (1984). Thinking sex: Notes for a radical theory of the politics of sexuality. In C. Vance (Ed.), Pleasure and danger: Exploring female sexuality (pp. 267–319). Routledge.

Schulman, S. (2012). The gentrification of the mind: Witness to a lost imagination. University of California Press.

Nikki Leigh: The Muse Who Embodies Modern Femininity

By Katherine Walter

On July 6, 2025

In Nikki Leigh

Nikki Leigh at the “Bride Hard” Los Angeles Premiere held at the DGA Theater on June 18, 2025 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Michael Buckner/Variety via Getty Images)

From the moment I discovered Nikki Leigh, I was mesmerized. There’s something undeniably magnetic about her—an effortless combination of beauty, intelligence, charm, and ambition that has stayed with me ever since. Her career has unfolded across modeling, acting, podcasting, and digital media, and at every stage, she’s embodied grace and authenticity. Nikki doesn’t just show up—she shines, and she does so with a strength and self-possession that continues to inspire me every single day.

Her breakthrough moment came in May 2012, when she was named Playboy’s Playmate of the Month. Photographed by the legendary Stephen Wayda, her centerfold was more than just a glamorous introduction—it was a statement of arrival. Nikki’s appearance in Playboy captured not only her radiant beauty but her poise and star quality. That exposure brought her to the attention of a wide audience and launched her into a vibrant modeling and entertainment career that has continued to grow and evolve with intention.

Long before and after Playboy, Nikki built a robust modeling portfolio that extended well beyond glamour. She became a featured model in the Benchwarmer trading card series, a collectible line celebrating glamorous women in pop culture. She appeared in numerous sets, including the 2019 25th Anniversary Red Foil #70 and the 2022 Best Of Green Foil #153. These cards showcased her magnetic presence and playful confidence, and they remain sought-after collector’s items to this day. Through Benchwarmer, Nikki cultivated a loyal fanbase who recognized her ability to move seamlessly between beauty and personality—between fantasy and familiarity.

Her presence in print has also been significant. Nikki has graced the covers and pages of several notable magazines, each highlighting a different facet of her persona. She was featured in the Millennial Issue of OUCH! Magazine, where she was celebrated as a modern icon of empowerment and reinvention. In the March 2021 issue of NOW Magazine, she offered an intimate look into her journey, her values, and her ambitions. Her edgy side came forward in Tattoo. 1 Tribal Magazine, where she appeared on the cover and was featured in a stunning four-page spread. Chilled Magazine published a vibrant article titled “Chillin’ with Nikki Leigh,” offering readers a laid-back yet intimate look at her lifestyle and personality. Perhaps most notably, she was the cover model for both the 5-Year Anniversary and 11-Year Anniversary issues of Kandy Magazine, affirming her lasting appeal and relevance in the modeling world. These magazine appearances are more than visual milestones—they’re markers of Nikki’s evolution as a public figure, one unafraid to reinvent herself and engage new audiences.

But Nikki Leigh is far more than a model. She’s a talented actress with an impressive list of credits across film and television. She’s appeared on hit shows like Two and a Half Men, and played leading roles in indie films and thrillers such as Silencer, Mummy Dearest, and Husband, Wife and Their Lover. Whether portraying a femme fatale or a heartfelt protagonist, Nikki approaches each role with emotional intelligence and sincerity. Her performances are grounded and compelling—never overplayed, always real. She brings nuance and complexity to the screen, showing us not just characters, but fully realized human beings.

My collection of framed Nikki Leigh Benchwarmer cards.

Beyond modeling and acting, Nikki has also found her voice in podcasting. On The Nikki Leigh Podcast, she holds meaningful, often vulnerable conversations about personal growth, wellness, relationships, and self-care. She creates space for reflection and healing, offering listeners a rare blend of compassion and honesty. More recently, she co-hosts Longevity Junky alongside Dr. Buck Joffrey, a podcast that explores cutting-edge health topics like life extension, mindfulness, holistic medicine, and emerging therapies. Nikki brings an inquisitive spirit and a refreshing sincerity to each episode, bridging the worlds of science and soul.

One of the qualities I admire most about Nikki is how she stays connected with her fans. She actively engages across multiple platforms, offering authentic, personal interactions that set her apart from many in the public eye. On Cameo, she offers personalized video messages that bring joy and encouragement to people’s lives. On Instagram, she shares a vibrant mix of glamour shots, behind-the-scenes moments, lifestyle content, and reflections that give followers a genuine sense of who she is. Through OnlyFans, she cultivates a sex-positive, empowering space where she can share exclusive content on her own terms. And perhaps most fascinatingly, she’s also launched a digital twin through OhChat, where fans can engage in AI-driven conversations with a version of Nikki that mirrors her personality, wit, and charm. It’s a brilliant use of technology, offering deeper interactivity and a sense of intimacy that traditional media can’t match.

As a transgender woman, I look up to Nikki Leigh as a radiant model of femininity. She exemplifies so many of the qualities I strive to embody in my own life—confidence, softness, sensuality, intellect, and above all, authenticity. She doesn’t reduce femininity to aesthetics; she lives it as truth. In Nikki, I see a woman who owns her story, her image, and her voice—and who uses all three to empower herself and uplift others. She makes me feel that it’s not only okay to take up space, to be seen and celebrated, but that it’s necessary. That our femininity—however we arrive at it—is something to honor, nurture, and wear proudly.

Nikki, if you ever read this: thank you. Thank you for being bold enough to share your light. Thank you for staying true to yourself in an industry that so often demands conformity. You are more than a model or actress or podcast host—you are an icon of modern womanhood, and you inspire me to embrace mine more fully every day. I admire you deeply. I celebrate everything you do. And I absolutely adore you.

When Aid Disappears: How the Big Beautiful Bill Fails Illinois Students

By Katherine Walter

On July 5, 2025

In education

WASHINGTON, DC – JULY 04: U.S. President Donald Trump, joined by Republican lawmakers, signs the “One, Big Beautiful Bill” Act into law during an Independence Day military family picnic on the South Lawn of the White House on July 04, 2025 in Washington, DC. After weeks of negotiations with Republican holdouts Congress passed the One, Big Beautiful Bill Act into law, President Trump’s signature tax and spending bill. The bill makes permanent President Donald Trump’s 2017 tax cuts, increase spending on defense and immigration enforcement and temporarily cut taxes on tips, while cutting funding for Medicaid, food assistance and other social safety net programs. (Photo by Eric Lee/Getty Images)

The recent passage of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act—what some are calling the “Big Beautiful Bill”—has ushered in one of the most significant and controversial overhauls to higher education funding in recent memory. Signed into law by President Trump on July 4, 2025, the legislation is being praised in some corners for its tax reforms and streamlined government spending. But beneath the surface, the bill threatens to widen the chasm of educational inequality, especially for low-income students in Illinois and right here in the U-46 school district, where I formerly taught.

As someone who has spent years in education and now watches from the outside with a heavy heart, I’m particularly alarmed by what this bill means for Pell Grants. These federal grants have long served as a foundation for college access among students from working-class and economically marginalized communities. In U-46, where many students are first-generation college-bound and come from families already struggling with inflation and housing costs, Pell Grants have been nothing short of essential.

The Big Beautiful Bill reduces the maximum Pell Grant award by nearly 23%, cutting it from $7,395 to $5,710 (Knott, 2025a). That shortfall is not academic—it’s rent, groceries, textbooks, and transit. Just as troubling are the new restrictions the bill imposes: students must now enroll in at least 15 credit hours to qualify for full aid, up from the previous 12. Additionally, those enrolled less than half-time—often students working jobs to support their families—will no longer be eligible. These changes are not just policy shifts; they are structural barriers that will block many Illinois students from ever setting foot on a college campus.

Illinois’ public colleges and universities have already been under financial strain for years, and state MAP grants, while helpful, are often insufficient to close the gap. For students graduating from U-46 high schools—whether in Elgin, Streamwood, Bartlett, or South Elgin—this federal retrenchment will be felt immediately. Students who were on the edge of affording their first year may now find themselves locked out of higher education altogether.

This is precisely why I launched the Katherine Walter Anthropology Scholarship Fund, hosted on Bold.org. Anthropology—my field of passion—is not often considered a “practical” major by today’s economic standards, yet it offers vital tools for understanding human behavior, culture, and history. In a time when diversity, equity, and inclusion are under attack, we need anthropologists who come from diverse economic and cultural backgrounds more than ever. My scholarship fund is a small but deliberate effort to push back against the erosion of educational access. It is designed to support students pursuing anthropology who demonstrate both academic promise and financial need—particularly those from school districts like U-46 that are too often overlooked in national education debates. You can learn more or contribute directly here: https://bold.org/funds/katherine-walter-anthropology-scholarship-fundraiser/.

This fund is not intended to be a bandage over a deep wound. Rather, it’s a gesture of solidarity with the students I once taught—those who worked double shifts to help at home, who translated school forms for their parents, who stayed late after class to ask about college but worried aloud about the cost. It’s for the ones who won’t benefit from the Big Beautiful Bill but deserve every chance to learn, grow, and contribute to the world.

While the legislation also eliminates subsidized federal student loans and imposes new performance metrics on college programs—denying eligibility to those whose graduates earn less than high school diploma holders—the burden once again falls on students. Especially those pursuing careers in social sciences, education, or the arts, where the monetary payoff may be modest, but the societal value is profound (Knott, 2025b).

If you’re someone who believes in the right to education regardless of zip code or income bracket, I invite you to act. Contribute to the scholarship. Share this message. Start a fund of your own. Because while the Big Beautiful Bill may have passed, its consequences are just beginning to unfold—and we must meet them with action, not silence.

References

Knott, K. (2025a, July 4). ‘Big, Beautiful Bill’ Means Big Changes for Higher Ed. Inside Higher Ed. https://www.insidehighered.com/news/government/politics-elections/2025/07/04/big-beautiful-bill-means-big-changes-higher-ed

Knott, K. (2025b, July 4). Trump signs ‘Big Beautiful Bill’ into law in White House ceremony. Time. https://time.com/7300177/trump-signs-big-beautiful-bill

The Legacy I Hope to Leave Behind

By Katherine Walter

On July 1, 2025

In reflection

Image: ChatGPT

Legacy is not built all at once. It takes shape over time—quietly, unevenly—through the choices we make, the truths we speak, and the lives we touch. I don’t imagine mine will be written in bold headlines or etched into stone. But I hope it will be felt in subtler, more enduring ways. In the freedom someone claims because I once stood up. In the insight sparked by something I taught or wrote. In the love that lingers in the spaces I leave behind.

I’ve lived many chapters in this life—some of them linear, others far more tangled. I began as a student of anthropology, drawn to the study of culture, meaning, and human complexity. It taught me to listen deeply, to question what seems natural, and to honor what is often ignored or devalued. Anthropology gave me not just tools for understanding others—it gave me a way to understand myself. As a transgender woman, as a spiritual seeker, as someone shaped by forces both seen and hidden, I learned to situate my life within broader currents of history and identity. That perspective never left me.

Eventually, I put my education into service in a different way—as a SNAP program specialist with the USDA. There, I saw how policy lives not in abstract theories but in the faces of people trying to feed their families. I worked at the intersection of administration and survival. It gave me a profound respect for the dignity of everyday life, and a deepened sense of duty to advocate for those so often silenced by red tape and economic cruelty. That role grounded me in the real: in food, in need, in systems and the people caught within them.

But even before all of that, I served my country in uniform. I am a U.S. Navy veteran. I served as a submariner and fought in Desert Storm. It was a life of discipline, of structure, of submerged tension—both literal and emotional. That chapter gave me a close relationship with mortality, with silence, with sacrifice. And later, it gave me the courage to live my truth. Because once you’ve survived war, you learn how little time there really is for pretending.

Though my time teaching in a classroom was brief, it was profoundly meaningful. Education, I believe, is one of the most radical forms of love and hope. I did not stay long enough to become a fixture, but I hope I was a spark. I hope that somewhere, a student remembers me not as perfect, but as present. As someone who saw them clearly, challenged them to think differently, and held space for who they were becoming.

Throughout it all, I’ve remained a writer, a creator, a witness. I write not just to tell stories, but to make space—for desire, for defiance, for complex and beautiful lives that rarely make it into the mainstream. I write for those on the margins, for the ones building new worlds from the ruins of the old, and for the future selves who need proof that we were here.

If I am remembered, I hope it is as someone who lived with fierce honesty. Who loved without shame. Who fought for justice, even when she was exhausted. Who stood in her womanhood and her queerness not as burdens, but as blessings.

I hope my legacy is not one of perfection, but of permission. Permission to live. To change. To desire. To dream beyond the roles assigned at birth or by circumstance. I hope I leave behind courage in those who need it. Gentleness in those taught to harden. Fire in those told to shrink.

And if some future soul—browsing an archive, reading a quote, hearing a story—finds a piece of me and thinks, “Because she lived, I feel less alone,” then that is all the immortality I will ever need.

Committed to Students, No Matter What

By Katherine Walter

On June 29, 2025

In philanthropy

For as long as I can remember, giving back has been a core part of who I am. It’s not about recognition or prestige—it’s about believing in the possibility of someone else’s future and doing my part to help it unfold.

For many years, I sponsored children in the Philippines through Children International. Each letter, each photo, each update reminded me of the real lives impacted by consistent, personal support. I cherished those relationships. But due to financial hardship, I had to make the painful decision to stop. That choice still weighs heavily on me, not because I regret helping, but because I couldn’t keep going the way I had hoped.

Even as my own circumstances shifted, my desire to invest in the next generation never faded. That’s why I launched a local scholarship for high school students in the U-46 School District. I started it before I was let go from my student teaching position. At first, I assumed it would be a one-time gift—my final gesture before moving on. But the students changed that for me.

Despite everything, I do not blame the students for what happened. I am frustrated with the district and its decision-making, but my heart still lies with the young people I had the privilege of working with. Their dreams, struggles, and resilience moved me. They deserve opportunities to thrive, and I still want to be part of that.

So, I made a decision: I would continue the scholarship, even if it meant asking for help. Due to my financial constraints, I’ve launched a fundraiser to sustain the scholarship through Bold.org. If you believe in education, equity, and giving students a chance to succeed, I invite you to contribute:

👉 bold.org/funds/katherine-walter-anthropology-scholarship-fundraiser/

This fund supports high school students with a passion for anthropology and the social sciences—fields that help us understand each other more deeply and build a more just world. Supporting this scholarship is an act of hope in a time when many feel hopeless.

Philanthropy isn’t just something you do when you’re comfortable. Sometimes, it’s something you keep doing even when it hurts—because you know what it means to be on the edge and still reach out a hand.

Thank you for walking this path with me.