This article is part of a month-long look at the challenges, triumphs and everyday life of Albuquerque’s LGBTQIA+ community. In keeping with the theme of Pride Month, each article will be in the format of a transcribed interview, allowing these people to speak directly to us and to our readers in their own words.
Bunnie Cruse says that during the pandemic she was an employee of the Office of the Governor working for the Department of Health and helped build the administrative side of the Contact Tracing Unit. It was the first time since she was 21 years old that she had health insurance. After being inspired by some “very trans inclusive” bills being signed by the governor, she earned her real estate license in 2023 with the goal of getting trans folks and other marginalized communities — who, historically, have not been home buyers — into their own houses for the first time. In 2025 she plans to run for State Senate, which might mean she’d have to quit her gig as one of the most well-known bartenders in Albuquerque. With so much on her plate it’s no small feat that she still finds time to mentor trans and LGBT youth — or sleep for that matter. But things haven’t always been so bright. She remembers a time when living a trans lifestyle wasn’t just dangerous, it was downright deadly. But because of the loving and supportive community we have in New Mexico today, a new generation of young Bunnies are shifting the narrative and winning the fight against discrimination.
Can you tell us a little bit about yourself? I understand you work at Effex.
I do. I started bartending when I was 21, and in the early ’90s, the AIDS epidemic was coming down from its height, but it was still awful. I would bartend during happy hour and I would see [let’s say] “Joe” every shift, and all of a sudden, Joe wouldn’t be there anymore. I’d say, “Hey, where’s Joe?” and someone would say, “Oh, he died.” I remember the first time that happened, I said, “Well, let me know when the funeral is,” and they said, “Well, they’re not having a funeral for him, no one picked up his body.” They told me that nobody wanted to get his body because he had AIDS. I would say, “Okay, on Friday, we’re gonna have a memorial for Joe,” or whoever it was that week. Sometimes it was two people in one week. My parents would cook, I’d come down with a crock pot — basic food, chips and salsa and maybe some Frito pie or something — and people would come in for happy hour, and we would talk about Joe or whoever it was at the time.
The gay bars, especially back then, were basically community centers. That’s where we went after a rally. That was where we went to mourn. That’s where we went to celebrate, to fundraise. Everything revolved around the gay bars back then. And so I just learned at an early age in my queer life that that’s what you did, so I just stayed at it.
Do you identify as transgender?
Yes, sir. I came out in the ’90s back I was 19, and the narrative that we were fed — and that we then fed each other — was, “Well, if you’re going to be trans, the only thing you can do is be a hairdresser, a bartender or do survival sex work.” So many of us did all three, because that’s what we thought were our only options. Looking back, that was all that we could do. I mean, you could get a job in the mall, but you were treated badly back then. I’m sure it still happens now, but there’s a lot more freedom. The life expectancy for a non-white trans woman is 35 years. There’s some studies saying that’s low, but most of my friends died before they turned 25 or 30 back in the day. Life expectancy is low because we are doing crazy things to survive. I didn’t plan to live past 35, and I’m 52. I never got a job that would build my future. If we’re not going to live to 35, why would we buy houses?
What kind of dangers would you encounter?
Going from Copper to Washington to Silver and then back on Morningside was called “The Cruise.” Everyone drove around in that circle, and seven days a week, 24 hours a day, on holidays, gay people and every letter from the LGBTQIA would be out and about. People would come by and sometimes they would shoot. They would throw stuff from their cars, get out and start chasing people. Especially on weekend nights when it was very busy, because it was a well known queer area. A lot of gay bashers would come and start trouble.
Is it fair to say it’s a little bit safer now than it used to be?
I feel safe in any part of Albuquerque. Stuff happens, I mean, it is everywhere, but I’m always on guard. I think everybody should be on guard. I’m always aware of my surroundings, but I don’t feel unsafe, necessarily. I think that atmosphere is a lot better than the ’90s. At least it was before Trump’s first term. We’ve taken some steps back with the Trump administration. We were making strides legislatively, especially in New Mexico — with protection for trans people — and we were making them nationally, too.
A ton of things are changing in the community — and the world in general. What do you think folks in the LGBTQIA community in New Mexico are most worried about?
The Trump administration says stuff that’s untrue — and they know it’s untrue — and I feel like it gives people license to be abusive or violent with us. And not just physical violence, but passing laws that trans kids can’t get medicine that helps with their transition, or trans girls can’t play sports, and they’re making it okay to do that. It’s scaring people, and that’s that’s the goal: to remind us that we’re not first-class citizens in their eyes.
They don’t want trans people getting degrees, getting money, getting educated, buying homes. You know what we are doing? We’re getting qualified to buy half a million dollar homes instead of couch surfing. We’re winning. I’m sure you know this: an educated person is a dangerous person to corrupt people in power. Their goal isn’t to stop me. I’m unstoppable. The goal is to stop the little Bunnies who haven’t even come out yet. It’s to scare these 18- or 19-year-old kids who are going to be parents one day. And when their kid is trans, they won’t let them be. As long as I’m alive, I will be doing things to make sure that narrative never comes back.
Can you talk about some of the obstacles trans folks face when buying a house?
They’re afraid to buy a house because it’s uncomfortable talking about your finances and about your dead name, so they just don’t do it. When you buy a house, your dead name is going to come up, and you have to sign a piece of paperwork, and so some trans people don’t want to deal with that. Before we go to closing, I send an email saying, “My client is trans and non-binary. These are their pronouns, and this is what we’re doing.” And I tell my clients, “I can’t guarantee that people are going to be respectful, but I’m going to be in the room with you, and if they are disrespectful, you won’t have to say anything. I’ll say it.” It’s different coming from a trans woman than a cis person. I know what they’re feeling, so I can be that buffer.
Being the owner of a house can be burdensome sometimes, but it gives you some financial flexibility — like with emergencies, old age, reverse mortgages — and that’s stuff that we don’t learn about, because why would we learn about finances? At least that’s what we’re told. It’s just this vicious cycle that we get stuck in as trans people. Me and so many other trans people are changing the narrative of what it means to be trans, what’s available and what we can do. There’s no limit to what we can do anymore.
Do you think that New Mexico is a better or worse position than the rest of the nation?
Such a better place. But we have a gubernatorial election coming up. The trans community needs someone that understands us, and not just understands us, but is part of it. Secretary [Deb] Haaland is running for governor, and Deb has a non-binary child that she talks about and that I’m friends with. Deb knows the struggles that we face. I’m going to be running for State Senate, and people ask me if I’m running on a pro-trans platform. My issues are that we want clean drinking water. We want a better educational system. I want crime handled in a humane way where Black and brown people aren’t getting hurt by the cops. We want access to affordable healthcare. I don’t have any different issues that you have, it’s just that I’m trans, right? So, we need someone that understands that, and Deb does. So I think if Deb doesn’t win, it’s going to impact the trans community a lot.
What is the community upbeat about and what are you excited about right now?
I’m excited that there’s so many young people taking leadership roles — young queer folks, especially young trans people — out in the forefront hosting events, coming together and just being visible. I’m proud that I’ve been mentoring these kids for 30 years, and to see them hosting marches, hosting gatherings, fills me with hope for our future. And so Pride, for me, is showing people who are in the closet that it’s okay to come out. It’s okay to be yourself.
About 12 years ago, we did two Pride events in Roswell, New Mexico. And one year later, someone messaged me and said that they had never met other gay people before. A few days before, they were contemplating suicide, and they saw our ad for Pride in the park, and they didn’t kill themselves because they wanted to meet other gay people. They had been told it was wrong their whole life. They were almost 30 years old. That’s what Pride is.