Associated Press

Former U.S. Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin says he’s going to put together an investor group to buy TikTok, a day after the House of Representatives passed a bill that would ban the popular video app in the U.S. if its China-based owner doesn’t sell its stake.

TikTok, which has more than 170 million American users, is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Chinese technology firm ByteDance Ltd.

Speaking on CNBC’s “Squawk Box,” Mnuchin said Thursday that he believes TikTok should be sold.

“This should be owned by U.S. businesses. There’s no way that the Chinese would ever let a U.S. company own something like this in China,” said Mnuchin.

Mnuchin, the U.S. Treasury secretary under President Donald Trump, didn’t provide details on who else may be included in the investor group he plans on forming or TikTok’s possible valuation.

TikTok did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

Big tech companies could afford to buy TikTok but would likely face intense scrutiny from antitrust regulators in both the U.S. and China. Then again, if the bill actually becomes law and survives First Amendment court challenges, it could make TikTok cheaper to buy.

The House bill, passed by a vote of 352-65, now goes to the Senate, where its prospects are unclear. House lawmakers had acted on concerns that TikTok’s current ownership structure is a national security threat.

Lawmakers in the Senate have indicated that the measure will undergo a thorough review. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, D-N.Y., has said that he’ll have to consult with relevant committee chairs to determine the bill’s path.

President Joe Biden has said if Congress passes the measure, he will sign it.

TikTok has long denied that it could be used as a tool of the Chinese government. The company has said it has never shared U.S. user data with Chinese authorities and won’t do so if it is asked. To date, the U.S. government also has not provided evidence that shows TikTok shared such information with Chinese authorities.

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When the drag queen known as Hermajestie the Hung reached her breaking point, she transformed into the Joker, becoming the scourge of patriarchy, homophobic lawmakers, and anti-transgender bigots everywhere. 

“She’s that queen that’s just had enough,” Hermajestie told the Texas Observer. 

In reality, “The Queen vs. Texas”—a new short film recently screened at South by Southwest (SXSW) film festival in Austin— isn’t exactly a supervillain origin story, but it does depict the transformation Raemonn James, better known as “Hermajestie” undergoes as she applies her drag makeup to become a queered-up version of that mischievous comic book character. 

She’s dressed up for a performance of Vanguard, the drag troupe she led from 2020 until she left the state in 2023, in the wake of a flood of anti-LGBTQ+ laws passed by the Texas legislature. In a way, the 15-minute film also depicts James’ Joker-like political transformation, as the former Texas resident realizes how unbearable and unlivable the cultural landscape has become for her, her son, and her partner.  

“The seriousness of not taking anything seriously that is so iconic about the Joker character, that energy resonates with me,” James told us. “Why are we taking these bozos seriously? These politicians, [these] criminals … Why are we taking them seriously? Why are we playing their games? … the character seems to have a very good understanding that the real joke is reality.” 

(The Texas Observer profiled James and the Vanguard drag troupe in the September/October 2023 issue of our magazine.)

Director Emil Lozada with Raemonn James/Hermajestie the Hung. Courtesy of Emil Lozada

“The Queen vs. Texas” had its origins when director Emil Lozada, who most often creates short films about the environment, became a fan of the weekly drag performances. One night, he and his wife brought along his father and sister, visiting from his birthplace in England.

“Rae actually picked on us because we were sitting up front,” Lozada recalled with a laugh. “She was drilling us with questions, but I think we passed the test!”

That good-natured heckling helped convince him that there was something special about James which he wanted to capture in a documentary. In all, he would spend about five months following James in 2023, documenting several drag performances and following her to three protests against anti-drag bills in the Lege. At one point, James wears a jacket emblazoned with the words “Fuck Patriarchy” as she chants in the capitol and marches through the streets of downtown Austin.

“Violence runs our society and fear of violence, fear of being violated, fear of being stripped away from your family and thrown into forced labor (jail or prison)—we it is what it is,” she said. “Just because it’s become normal to us doesn’t mean that we should not be outraged.”

We’re also given an intimate glimpse into the home life James shares with her partner and their son—the family that James ultimately moved out of Texas in order to protect, even though it meant the end of the Vanguard drag troupe (other drag queens now manage a weekly performance night instead).  

“Whenever legislators are writing laws about how they think drag queens should not be around children, it completely ignores the very real fact that some drag queens have children,” James said. “It showcases how stupid they are but also, I guess it showcases how little they know. People who are trying to ban drag shows have never been to a drag show.”

During our interview, Lozada and James both agreed it took months of building trust before she’d allow him to film these very personal scenes of their day-to-day life, which show heartwarming but prosaic scenes of the family relaxing together on a playground, or James’ son playing backstage.

“Just because you’re a very handsome white man with a sexy accent and a camera doesn’t mean that I’m just gonna let you in my bedroom,” James quipped.”He definitely had to earn his way.”

After SXSW, Lozada plans to circulate the film to other festivals in the hopes of ultimately finding a home for it on a streaming service. In an email sent after we spoke, Lozada told me he hopes the film inspires people to support nonprofits that fight against anti-LGBTQ+ laws, but also to support their local drag shows too.

“Having spent time behind the scenes and witnessed the immense amount of effort poured into each performance, my love and appreciation for this art form has greatly deepened,” Lozada wrote. “Performance art serves as a pivotal medium for conveying messages of love, justice, and activism, with these performers playing a crucial role in shaping a world where everyone is celebrated for being their authentic selves.”

James added, “In all of my artistic endeavors I aim to inform, empower and emancipate. This 15 minute documentary short film presents the passions, problems and power of a local queer community determined to make every space a safe space to exist freely.”

My father was a surgeon, recognized by the state of Michigan for 50 years of service to the profession. My brother is a Mayo-trained neurosurgeon. They both dedicated their lives to healing.

In 1991, my mother was dying of lung cancer. Near the end, she was receiving hospice treatment at home. Despite the care and compassion of hospice, a death from cancer is often excruciating. Cancer cells attack and destroy vital organs, making them unable to function. For my mother, who had a big presence and loved to talk and laugh, her lung capacity was disappearing and she could barely speak, even at a whisper.

I remember Dad standing by her bed and watching her struggle as she whispered, “I can’t breathe.” He turned away and said to me, “Better she should go out into traffic and get hit by a car.”

She wanted to die. He wanted her to be able to die. But she lingered in agony for days as the cancer took away one part of her, then another and another.

My father left the practice of medicine in despair after her death. He couldn’t heal her — and he couldn’t help end her life when she was ready.

Last year my husband, Dr. Leigh Lawton, died of multiple myeloma, an incurable blood cancer. When life as he knew it was clearly over, he spent 16 days in torment because in Minnesota, unlike in 10 other states, Washington, D.C., and in 11 countries around the world, it is illegal to provide medical aid in dying.

My husband’s final request was to ask me to support Minnesota’s End-of-Life Options Act, or Medical Aid in Dying (MAID). This bill would enable adults in Minnesota who are medically determined to be mentally competent and terminally ill, with less than six months to live, to self-administer medication and die peacefully in their sleep. The option is not available to those who are disabled who don’t meet the other criteria or who cannot make this decision for themselves.

The proposed Minnesota legislation has safeguards for patients and medical professionals and very specific punishments, including felony charges and up to 25 years’ imprisonment, for those who abuse this practice through coercion, manipulation, or harm. Medical professionals also may choose not to prescribe end-of-life medications and may refer patients to other physicians.

We can choose to have “Do not resuscitate” orders on our medical directives and to empower our loved ones to withdraw life support when further intervention will be futile. We can even end beloved animals’ lives when their situations become intolerable. Medical aid in dying is available to 74 million people in the U.S. and to 300 million people worldwide — but not to people in Minnesota.

Nearly all of the patients choosing Medical Aid in Dying have had cancer, like my mother and my husband, or ALS. Cumulative longitudinal data from the U.S. jurisdictions where medical aid in dying is available show that not a single criminal or civil charge has ever been filed on any substantiated case of abuse or coercion. Not one.

I have already testified for this bill twice this year at committee hearings in the Minnesota House of Representatives. The bill has passed in three House committees but on strictly partisan votes. Since when is death red or blue?

There has been no action in the Senate.

This is the second year of Minnesota’s legislative biennium, meaning that if the bill doesn’t pass this year, it starts over, at zero, in 2025. It has languished at the Capitol since 2015.

Sen. Erin Murphy is the majority leader of the Senate, and she is also one of the authors of this bill. Sen. Melissa Wiklund chairs the Senate Health and Human Services Committee where the bill must be heard.  Please, senators – don’t put this off again and again and again. Legislators tell me that they’ve received more letters and calls urging support on this issue than on any other single bill.

Sen. Murphy office number is 651-296-5931. Sen. Wiklund’s office number is 651-297-8061. Senate File 1813 must be heard in the Senate by a March 22 deadline or it will be another year before it can be considered.

How we die matters.

Ellen J. Kennedy of Edina is executive director of World Without Genocide at Mitchell Hamline School of Law.

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