KATHERINE WALTER dot COM

Language has always felt personal to me, especially when it comes to how I describe my own life. Words like “transgender woman,” “transgender female,” and “MTF” are often treated as interchangeable, but they do not feel interchangeable from the inside. Each one carries a slightly different emphasis, and over time I have become more intentional about which I use and why.

I call myself a transgender woman because that is the role I occupy in society. It reflects how I move through the world, how I am perceived, and how I understand my place in social space. The word woman matters to me. It names my gender, not my medical history. “Transgender” simply describes the path I took to live authentically. When I say I am a transgender woman, I am asserting that I am a woman—fully—and that my past does not disqualify me from that category.

At the same time, I recognize that “transgender female” can be an accurate description of my embodied reality. I rarely use it, because it sounds clinical. It feels like language pulled from a medical chart rather than from lived experience. Still, accuracy matters to me. My hormone levels are typical of a cisgender female. I do not produce testosterone. I no longer have testicles. While I do not have a vagina, my endocrine profile and much of my physiology align with female norms. In a biological sense, something real and measurable has shifted. My transition was not only social; it was physiological.

That is why I no longer relate to the term “MTF,” or male-to-female. It suggests movement. It suggests that I am in transit, or that I carry maleness forward into the present as an active descriptor. I do not experience myself that way. “Male” was an assignment imposed on me at birth, not an identity I inhabited in any meaningful sense. My transition is not an ongoing crossing from one category into another. It was a process with a direction, yes—but it is not my current state of being. I do not feel like I am male-to-female. I feel like I am female, and socially, a woman.

For me, the distinction between gender and sex is not abstract. “Woman” describes my gender role, my social identity, and my place in cultural structures. “Female” describes aspects of my body as it exists now, after years of medical transition. I rarely lead with the latter because I do not want to reduce myself to anatomy or hormone panels. I am not a medical case study. I am a person. Still, I will not deny that my biology has changed in profound ways. To pretend otherwise would feel dishonest.

What matters most is that I am not in a perpetual state of becoming. I am not suspended between categories. I have lived in this body, in this identity, for years. My transition feels complete to me. The language I choose reflects that sense of arrival.

So I call myself a transgender woman because it captures my lived reality in society. I acknowledge that “transgender female” can describe my physiology, even if I rarely use it in everyday conversation. And I leave “MTF” in the past, where it belongs—as a description of a journey that has already reached its destination.

Bad Bunny, the Super Bowl, and the Politics of Identity

By Katherine Walter

On February 11, 2026

In cultural politics

SANTA CLARA, CALIFORNIA – FEBRUARY 08: Bad Bunny performs onstage during the Apple Music Super Bowl LX Halftime Show at Levi’s Stadium on February 08, 2026 in Santa Clara, California. (Photo by Thearon W. Henderson/Getty Images)

The 2026 Super Bowl halftime show, headlined by Bad Bunny, quickly became one of the most culturally and politically charged performances in recent memory. Announced months in advance as the featured performer, Bad Bunny’s selection already signaled a shift in the NFL’s cultural positioning, reflecting the growing influence of Latino audiences in American media (CBS News, 2026). When he ultimately took the stage, performing largely in Spanish and centering Puerto Rican identity, the symbolism was unmistakable.

The performance was widely interpreted not just as entertainment, but as cultural assertion. Spanish-language lyrics dominated the set, and the staging highlighted themes of Latino pride, resilience, and collective identity. El País (2026) described the show as a “protest dance,” suggesting that the performance functioned as a statement of presence in a political climate often marked by contentious immigration debates and nationalist rhetoric. Rather than presenting overt political slogans, the symbolism operated through visibility: Latino culture on the largest televised stage in the United States.

To me, that is what made the performance powerful. It was not aggressive. It did not attack policy. It celebrated identity. The choice to foreground Spanish was not exclusionary—it was reflective of the lived reality of millions of Americans. In a country where Spanish is the second most spoken language, hearing it dominate the halftime stage felt less like disruption and more like acknowledgment. Representation, in this case, became a form of quiet resistance.

President Donald Trump responded sharply. According to ABC News (2026), Trump called the halftime show a “slap in the face to our country.” Reuters (2026) reported that he described the performance as “absolutely terrible,” while People (2026) noted his criticism that “nobody understands a word this guy is saying.” His reaction framed the performance not as a cultural celebration but as a deviation from traditional American norms.

The criticism did not stop with the President. Entertainment Weekly (2026) reported that House Republicans called for an investigation into the halftime show, citing concerns over its choreography and presentation. The backlash extended beyond language into broader anxieties about morality, cultural standards, and national identity. Meanwhile, reactions were far from uniformly negative. The Guardian (2026) documented widespread praise from artists and public figures who described the performance as joyful and affirming, with some viewers saying it made them feel “proudly American.”

That divide reveals something significant. The controversy was not really about music or choreography. It was about competing visions of America. One vision views national identity as rooted in linguistic and cultural uniformity. The other sees American identity as evolving, multilingual, and shaped by migration and diversity. Bad Bunny’s performance fell squarely into the latter camp.

In my view, the halftime show reflected the America that already exists rather than the one some political leaders nostalgically imagine. A multilingual performance on the Super Bowl stage does not diminish American identity—it expands it. Cultural confidence means embracing diversity, not fearing it. The polarized reaction to the show underscores how entertainment events have become symbolic arenas where broader political tensions play out.

Ultimately, the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show was more than a concert. It was a cultural mirror. Whether one saw it as celebratory or confrontational depended largely on how one defines Americanness itself. The performance—and the reaction from President Trump—demonstrates that debates over language, culture, and belonging remain central to American political life.

References

ABC News. (2026). Trump calls Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show a “slap in the face to our country.” https://abcnews.go.com/US/trump-calls-bad-bunnys-super-bowl-halftime-show/story?id=129980124

CBS News. (2026). Bad Bunny will headline the 2026 Super Bowl halftime show. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/bad-bunny-2026-super-bowl-halftime-show/

El País. (2026, February 8). Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl: The protest dance of Latinos in the US. https://english.elpais.com/culture/2026-02-08/bad-bunnys-super-bowl-the-protest-dance-of-latinos-in-the-us.html

Entertainment Weekly. (2026). House Republicans call to investigate Bad Bunny Super Bowl halftime show over “widespread twerking, grinding, pelvic thrusts.” https://ew.com/house-republicans-call-for-investigation-of-bad-bunny-super-bowl-halftime-show-11904174

People. (2026). Trump lashes out at Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show: “Nobody understands a word this guy is saying.” https://people.com/super-bowl-2026-trump-lashes-out-bad-bunny-halftime-show-11902396

Reuters. (2026, February 9). Trump says Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime was “absolutely terrible.” https://www.reuters.com/world/us/trump-says-bad-bunnys-super-bowl-halftime-show-was-absolutely-terrible-2026-02-09/

The Guardian. (2026, February 9). “Made me feel proudly American”: Stars react to Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl show. https://www.theguardian.com/music/2026/feb/09/reactions-bad-bunny-super-bowl-halftime-show

ICE Is Getting Away With Murder

By Katherine Walter

On January 28, 2026

In civil rights, United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)

Los Angeles, CA – January 24: A sign is raised in support of Renee Good and Alex Pretti at a candle light vigil during a peaceful protest in support of a 37-year-old man shot and killed by immigration officers in Minneapolis was under way Saturday evening along Olvera Street in Los Angeles. Demonstrators gathered at the historic Placita Olvera marketplace on Saturday, Jan. 24, 2026 in Los Angeles, CA. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images)

The fatal shootings of Renee Nicole Macklin Good on January 7, 2026 and Alex Jeffrey Pretti on January 24, 2026 by federal immigration enforcement officers in Minneapolis, Minnesota are not isolated tragedies; they are stark indicators of an enforcement paradigm that is failing to protect public safety, eroding civil liberties, and operating with alarming impunity. Good, a 37-year-old mother, was killed by an ICE agent during an immigration enforcement operation earlier this month, prompting widespread protests and demands for accountability (CBS News, 2026). Weeks later, Pretti, a 37-year-old ICU nurse and U.S. citizen, was fatally shot by federal agents while documenting and intervening in the enforcement activity; his death significantly intensified local and national outrage (ABC News, 2026).

These killings have unfolded amid “Operation Metro Surge,” a large-scale federal immigration enforcement initiative deploying ICE and Customs and Border Protection (CBP) agents to Minneapolis and surrounding communities. The presence of thousands of armed federal agents in contexts far from the U.S. border has coincided with at least two fatal shootings of civilians in the span of weeks, incidents that have drawn protest, political backlash, and legal scrutiny (CBS News, 2026; ABC News, 2026). In the case of Pretti, footage and official preliminary reports indicate that two federal agents discharged their firearms during an encounter with Pretti, even as eyewitness accounts and bystander video challenge the notion that he posed an imminent threat (Star Tribune, 2026; ABC News, 2026).

The responses to these shootings reveal deep tension between federal agencies and local communities. Good’s family publicly denounced Pretti’s killing as “terrifying, deeply disturbing, and heartbreaking,” and called for a cessation of ICE activities, asserting that official accounts mischaracterized the circumstances of his death (People, 2026). Meanwhile, protests in Minneapolis and other cities have grown in size and intensity, with demonstrators expressing outrage not only over the deaths themselves but over the broader militarized approach federal immigration enforcement has adopted (El País, 2026; ABC News, 2026).

Federal officials have at times defended the actions of agents, framing them as lawful enforcement measures. Yet political pushback has emerged across the spectrum: senior legislators are seeking Justice Department records on both Pretti’s and Good’s killings, while even some Republican lawmakers have called for independent investigations and questioned the federal narrative (CBS News, 2026; Washington Post, 2026). These developments underscore that the core issues extend beyond partisan disagreement to fundamental questions about the role and accountability of ICE, CBP, and related agencies.

The argument for withdrawing ICE from Minneapolis and similar urban environments is compelling when one considers the lethal outcomes that have accompanied its operations, the erosion of public trust, and the disruption of civic life. Deploying armed federal agents into densely populated cities has resulted in confrontations with residents, journalists, and peaceful observers — encounters that should never escalate to loss of life in contexts unrelated to border security. The deaths of Good and Pretti, both U.S. citizens killed in broad daylight, demonstrate the high cost of maintaining such a deployment without robust accountability, transparent oversight, and clear limits on the use of force.

Moreover, these killings raise broader questions about the continued existence of ICE as an enforcement agency. When an agency tasked with upholding immigration laws repeatedly engages in operations that endanger the lives of citizens and long-term residents, it is reasonable to question whether reformation within the current institutional framework is sufficient. Critics and activists increasingly argue that ICE’s mandate — and the violence inherent in its domestic deployment — cannot be reconciled with the values of safety, justice, and civil liberties. For many, this leads to the conclusion that ICE should be abolished, and its functions reassigned to civilian agencies with clear lines of accountability and strong protections for human rights.

The tragic deaths of Renee Good and Alex Pretti are more than isolated headlines; they are a test of democratic norms and the limits of federal power. Their loss compels us to confront the consequences of allowing an immigration enforcement apparatus to operate in U.S. cities with insufficient oversight, minimal transparency, and a penchant for militarized tactics. For the safety of communities and the integrity of constitutional rights, wise leaders should support an immediate withdrawal of ICE from Minneapolis and initiate a broader conversation about dismantling an agency whose operations have culminated in the deaths of innocent Americans.

References

ABC News. (2026, January 27). Minneapolis live updates: Stephen Miller says CBP may not have followed protocol. https://abcnews.go.com/US/live-updates/minneapolis-ice-shooting-live-updates-doj-investigating-apparent?id=129340693

CBS News. (2026, January 27). Key legislators seek Justice Department records on Alex Pretti and Renee Good killings by next week. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/key-legislators-seek-doj-records-on-alex-pretti-and-renee-good-killings-by-next-week/

El País. (2026, January 26). Minneapolis clama contra la “impunidad” de la policía migratoria que mató a Alex Pretti. https://elpais.com/us/migracion/2026-01-26/minneapolis-clama-contra-la-impunidad-de-la-policia-migratoria-que-mato-a-alex-pretti.html

People. (2026, January 26). Renee Good’s family reacts to Alex Pretti’s “deeply disturbing” death: “We urge all Americans to trust their own eyes”. https://people.com/renee-good-family-reacts-to-alex-pretti-death-11892182

Star Tribune. (2026, January 28). Minneapolis Border Patrol shooting: What to know about investigations, protests and immigration operations. https://www.startribune.com/ice-raids-minnesota/601546426

Washington Post. (2026, January 27). GOP backlash on Minnesota signals a tougher landscape for Trump. https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2026/01/27/pretti-shooting-trump-minneapolis-republicans/

Regime Change Is Not Lawful—It’s Plunder

By Katherine Walter

On January 3, 2026

In international law

KRAKOW, POLAND JANUARY 3:
A woman watches ABC News Live as U.S. Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Dan Caine explains details of a U.S. special military operation in Venezuela, with President Donald Trump present, in Krakow, Poland, January 3, 2026. (Photo by Artur Widak/NurPhoto via Getty Images)

What is being reported today—that the United States military removed Nicolás Maduro, the sitting president of Venezuela, under the direction of Donald Trump—should be treated as a constitutional, legal, and moral emergency rather than a triumph. Even setting aside one’s opinion of Maduro or the failures of his government, the use of unilateral military force to depose a head of state is plainly illegal under international law. This is not a gray area. It is precisely the sort of conduct the modern international legal system was created to prohibit.

The cornerstone of international law since 1945 is the prohibition on the use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of another state. Article 2(4) of the United Nations Charter bars such actions outright, allowing only two narrow exceptions: self-defense against an armed attack or action authorized by the UN Security Council (United Nations, 1945). No credible public evidence suggests that Venezuela launched an armed attack against the United States, nor has there been any Security Council authorization permitting regime removal. Absent either condition, military intervention for the purpose of removing a government constitutes unlawful aggression under international law (Brownlie, 1963; United Nations, 1970).

Attempts to justify such an action by invoking “self-defense,” “counter-narcotics,” or “restoring democracy” do not survive serious legal scrutiny. International law does not permit a state to overthrow another government because it is authoritarian, corrupt, or hostile to foreign economic interests. The UN General Assembly has repeatedly affirmed that no state has the right to intervene, directly or indirectly, in the internal affairs of another, regardless of motive (United Nations General Assembly, 1970). This principle exists precisely because powerful states have historically cloaked invasions in moral language while pursuing strategic and economic gains.

Seen through that lens, this intervention reads less like a defense of democracy and more like a textbook exercise in plutocratic power. Venezuela possesses some of the largest proven oil reserves in the world, and U.S. policy toward the country for decades has revolved around control, access, and leverage over those resources (Mommer, 2002). When military force is paired with rhetoric about “stabilizing” oil production, reopening markets, or placing foreign companies in a position to manage extraction, the intent becomes difficult to deny. This is not about liberating Venezuelans; it is about aligning state violence with corporate interests, particularly those of multinational energy companies that stand to benefit from regime change.

International law directly rejects this logic. The principle of permanent sovereignty over natural resources affirms that a people’s land, minerals, and energy reserves belong to them alone and must be used for their national development, not appropriated through coercion or foreign occupation (United Nations General Assembly, 1962). That right does not evaporate because a foreign power disapproves of how a country governs itself or wishes to restructure its economy. To claim otherwise is to revive colonial doctrines that the postwar legal order explicitly sought to bury.

What makes this moment especially dangerous is the precedent it sets. If the United States can openly remove a foreign leader by force and then claim legal justification after the fact, the entire prohibition on aggressive war becomes performative rather than binding. Other powers will follow the same script, citing security concerns, economic stability, or humanitarian necessity as cover. The result is not a safer world, but a return to a system where might makes right and international law exists only to discipline the weak.

The Venezuelan people have the exclusive right to determine their political future and to decide how their resources are used. That process may be flawed, painful, and slow, but it cannot be replaced by foreign troops and oil contracts without shredding the legal norms that protect all states, large and small. If international law means anything at all, it means that regime change by force—especially when tied to resource extraction—is illegal, illegitimate, and profoundly destabilizing.

References

Brownlie, I. (1963). International law and the use of force by states. Oxford University Press.

Mommer, B. (2002). Global oil and the nation state. Oxford University Press.

United Nations. (1945). Charter of the United Nations. https://www.un.org/en/about-us/un-charter

United Nations General Assembly. (1962). Permanent sovereignty over natural resources (Resolution 1803 (XVII)).

United Nations General Assembly. (1970). Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Co-operation among States (Resolution 2625 (XXV)).

Identity, Biology, and the End of “MTF”

Bad Bunny, the Super Bowl, and the Politics of Identity

ICE Is Getting Away With Murder

References

Regime Change Is Not Lawful—It’s Plunder