In Loving Memory of Lilac Vylette Maldonado: A Legacy of Radical Love, Trans Justice, and Community Care
On Sunday March 29, 2025 at 11:41 EST, the world lost an icon, activist, and dear friend to many, Lilac Vylette Maldonado.
The message from her family rang far and wide. “The weight of her absence crushes our chests and eyes. Muted wails and oceans of tears are all that is left on our faces. We were so lucky to have been able to love her. Listen for her in the wind, wait for her touch in the warmth of the sun. She will never leave. She is always with us.”
Lilac led with love. Despite facing so much adversity throughout life, she passionately advocated for those most in need, poured all her energy into her community, friends, loved ones, and social justice.
Lilac was a community organizer, with a penchant for fashion, who spoke on a Qwear panel “Qwear Kiki: Disabled, Different, and Divine” led by Qwear’s Blessitt Shawn B. in 2020 and became a good friend to our team.
Lilac was a culture worker living in LA who identified as a sick & disabled, neurodivergent, Two-Spirit, Chicanx femme. Overcoming limited mobility and crushing chronic pain, she organized around many intersectional social justice issues such as racial justice, gender justice, disability justice, LGBTQIA+ issues, and body autonomy and acceptance. She was an avid zinester who has written and created artwork for various academic and social justice themed DIY booklets. She was a co-founding member of the Los Angeles Spoonie Collective, a grassroots disability justice group connecting disabled activists and artists to community organizing and education opportunities, and a Cultural Work Lead / Facilitator at the Fireweed Collective, who offers mental health education and mutual aid through a Healing Justice lens.
In continuation of Lilac’s legacy, we are starting a Qwear series centering people with disabilities, in particular, those with chronic illnesses and those living with pain. If you would like to contribute to this series, please email us: sonny@qwearfashion.com.
Lilac taught us so much—through presence, resilience, and radical softness. One of many impressive pieces of advocacy Lilac did was provide guidance on how to support someone living with chronic pain.
Here are five ways we can all carry forward what she embodied:
5 Ways to Support Someone Living with Chronic Pain
Listen Without Judgment: Believe someone’s experience without trying to “fix” it or offer solutions.
Validate Their Reality: Remind them that their pain and their pace are valid. Saying “I believe you” matters more than you know.
Be Patient and Flexible: Chronic pain can shift daily. Holding plans loosely—and holding people gently—goes a long way.
Check In Without Pressure: A simple “thinking of you” can be a lifeline, especially on hard days.
Offer Tangible Help: Whether it’s a meal, a ride, or a hand with errands, concrete support can ease invisible burdens.
Message from Qwear writer Blessitt Shawn B:
Dear Lilac,
When I first met you, I thought, “FINALLY.” Finally, someone gets me. Someone who saw me for who I am without needing an explanation. To see another queer, disabled femme—unapologetic, radiant, and grounded in your truth—was a gift I will cherish forever.
You had this rare magic, nibling, this ability to make everyone feel like someone. You made space, not just in conversation, but in spirit. You showed up fully, with heart and humor, even in the face of pain most people couldn't begin to comprehend.
I am heartbroken that you’re no longer here with us in the physical realm. I miss you deeply—and I will always hold close our conversations about the feast we were going to share someday soon. I still imagine the joy, the flavors, the laughter. One day, somewhere beyond this place, maybe we will.
Until then, I will honor your memory by living out loud. By speaking truth to power. By holding space for those who are often left out or left behind. And, of course, by wearing a SICK lip in your honor—because nobody, nobody, rocked a pout quite like you.
With all my love,
Blessitt
Message from Qwear Founder Sonny:
Every time Lilac texted me, I felt her love emanating through the phone. She was so supportive of us and our work. On Wednesday November 20th 2024 she wrote, “The world might treat us like shit, but I have revered us as sacred my whole life. It may be an arduous path rife with pain, but I’m proud to call you my sibling, and I am so grateful to be on this journey with you. We are sacred, we are divinity.”
She always told me how much she cared. At times it felt like I had so much because I could move about the world pain free and she had so little, yet she always sent so much love my way.
She wrote some of the most loving messages I’ve ever received. On July 8 2021: “I am so proud of you two, not for anything you do, which you do do much, but just for being you. You are amazing and beautifully kind and smart and fun people. I am proud just to be in your lives and to bask in your splendor!”
My favorite thing was receiving her cards in the mail, covered in stickers.
I will forever cherish the things she taught me and the love she brought to my life. I will hold onto her love in my heart forever.
Messages from the community:
“My first interaction with Lilac was at a convening for folx with shared experiences and identities. We were engaging in an activity where we wrote down a harmful belief about ourselves, or something similar. Then, we all switched papers and read aloud someone else’s note. It was a powerful activity, but the moment I’ll never forget was when I shared my message and your eyes filled with tears. You then said, “I want to just hug whoever this is.”
When I told you it was me, your arms wrapped so tightly around me. In that embrace, I felt safety, love, connection, a brief moment of wanting to live, joy, and happiness — all at once. That hug meant more than words could ever express. I think of it often and feel deep sadness that we’ve never connected in person again. I dream of the hugs we would have, the laughs we would share, the stories and memories we would co-author together.
But life — and oppression — became real barriers to my hopes and dreams of our friendship. And now, you are gone, and it’s too late. I will never get to hug you again. I will never get to make you smile or learn how to love you in ways that make you want to burst from love and joy. That pain is something I carry with me, but so is the love you gave me, a love I’ll always hold close.
You were, and are, a deeply magical, amazing, wonderful, brilliant, and talented human being. I’m sad I didn’t tell you this more often. I’m sad there wasn’t more I did to bring you joy when you were alive. And I’m sad that the energy I’m putting into grieving you now wasn’t energy I shared with you while you were here.
I hope that wherever you are, you are thriving. I hope you can feel the love we have for you, collectively and individually. I hope you can access the memories of all the times you felt loved and connected. I hope there are no more barriers for you and that accessibility is the norm in whatever form you exist, in whatever space you are.
You were fucking magical and took up all the space you deserved. You were so lovely, so amazing, so beautiful, and just… radical. Thank you for your love in all the ways you gifted it to me, while navigating loving everyone and continuing to learn how to love yourself.
— Van Ethan Levy
Please comment with more reflections.
May we all treat each other with love, affirmation, and nonjudgement, in Lilac’s name.
💜
The Qwear Team
