For 11 years, the Appalachian Queer Film Festival (AQFF) bounced around West Virginia, from Lewisburg to Charleston, to Morgantown to Huntington. In 2024, it landed in Shepherdstown. Its name has appeared in Vice, IndieWire and the Huffington Post. It also appeared in a 2016 conservative report commissioned by failed gubernatorial candidate Bill Maloney as an example of “tax-payer-funded government waste.” Regardless, each appearance should be an equal measure of pride.
“We’ve kind of always been living on the fringes of getting any kind of grants,” I was told by festival co-director and co-founder Jon Matthews. “We’re scrapping for what we get, but we’ve always been like that, so we’re just gonna continue to scrap.”
This is good news. As the current presidential administration’s chokehold on DEI programs across the country continues to tighten, similar programs operating under federally-funded organizations (like Paradise Valley Community College’s recently-cancelled 16-year-old Desperado LGBTQ+ Film Festival) have had no choice but to tap out. The AQFF, however, continues to scrap.
“It’s not great because we don’t have a lot of money,” festival co-director J Gallienne told me. “But it’s also great because it allows Jon and I to kinda do whatever the f*ck we want with our festival.”
And whatever the f*ck they do, indeed. The 2025 festival brought a bevy of quality movies to Shepherdstown, some curated, some through FilmFreeway, all dealing with LGBTQ+ themes and issues, and all now sitting at the top of my Letterboxd watchlist. Their Friday premiere film, Heightened Scrutiny, followed the real-life story of civil rights lawyer Chase Strangio as he fought the Supreme Court for gender-affirming care for transgender adolescents. Then, Saturday’s feature She’s the He, flipped the vibe all the way back to screwball high school comedies “with a trans-queer spin.”
“People describe it as the film we wish we all would’ve seen in high school,” J told me, and the online buzz agrees. Their program is a microcosm of queer voices speaking in comedies, documentaries, animations and every genre under the silver screen.
“There’s a lack of queer and trans films everywhere,” Jon said, clarifying that their goal is not just to bring films into Appalachia or clarify regional stereotypes.
“Yeah, we’re showing really incredible films and we’re uplifting rural filmmakers and Appalachian filmmakers,” J agreed. “But to me, at the end of the day, it’s about creating spaces of joy and community because so many people are struggling.”
Then, they asked me if I’d read the recent public resignation of Jerry Greenfield, one of the only “ice-cream celebrities” renowned worldwide. In 2000, Jerry and his business partner Ben Cohen sold Ben & Jerry’s to multinational food conglomerate Unilever and continued to assist in its operation. This year on September 16th, however, Jerry stepped down after 47 years, citing in his farewell address that “some of the most passionate, caring, and values-driven people you’ll ever meet” are no longer able to stand up for their beliefs. This came after a multi-year back-and-forth, coming to a head when Unilever usurped Ben & Jerry’s agreement to not sell their ice cream in “Occupied Palestinian Territory.”
“What has made their work so important to me, and what allowed the company to be more than just an ice cream company, was the independence to pursue our values,” Jerry continued on X.
As if J needed to explain the parallels. “I think for me, this is gonna sound really dorky,” they said, “but the film festival is like, it’s more than just the ice cream.”
Regardless of your personal opinions on this particular issue, would you stick around if your own company didn’t stand behind the values by which you live your life? If your film festival, which provided a space of safety and celebration since its conception, suddenly served somebody else’s agenda?
The AQFF remains properly within J and Jon’s control. It serves no Unilever, demanding silence and conformity at the first sign of controversy. By embracing the unique, dynamic and proud voices of creative, queer filmmakers, it continues to serve a flavorful and fulfilling showcase to an audience that pushes the boundaries of Appalachia.
“It’s okay if you had to move out of state. It’s okay if you stay,” Jon concludes. “It’s okay if you’re from LA, and you come and now you consider yourself part of our group. We’re this Appalachia that encompasses it all.”
Follow the Appalachian Queer Film Festival on X @aqffwv, on Instagram @appalachianqueerfilmfest and on Facebook to stay updated with details for next year’s festival, which will absolutely be happening.
