Lisbet Tellefsen, a political activist, feminist, and community organizer from the Bay Area, co-created the journal Aché with Pippa Fleming. She has held roles as an editor, recording engineer, and producer, earning several accolades for her contributions to the lesbian and gay community.
Collection: Lisbet Tellefsen papers | Archives at Yale
Aché
Aché Magazine, founded in 1989 by Pippa Fleming and Lisbet Tellefsen, was more than a publication; it was a vibrant community platform dedicated to Black lesbians. Originating as a free magazine in the San Francisco Bay Area, Aché rapidly evolved into a comprehensive project connecting Black queer women globally. Through its diverse content—ranging from poetry and personal interviews to community notices and thoughtful editorials—Aché became a critical space for sharing, empowerment, and visibility.
Lisbet Tellefsen’s role as both archivist and activist was pivotal. She meticulously documented every facet of Aché’s journey, ensuring that future generations would have a rich archive of its existence, from community flyers to detailed planning notes. This archive not only preserves the history of Black lesbian communities but also serves as an invaluable resource for ongoing activism and community building.
Aché thrived by hosting an array of events that reinforced community bonds and addressed crucial topics within the Black lesbian community. Even after its publication ceased in 1994, the spirit of Aché continues to inspire and empower, echoing its foundational belief in the transformative power of community and visibility.
Aché: The Power to Make Things Happen, Part I
Aché: The Power to Make Things Happen, Part II
Issues: from Aché Archive
On the Impact of Aché
When I think of the Harlem Renaissance, I think of a significant historical moment where black culture thrived—and there were also a lot of black queer moments in the Harlem Renaissance, right? But during the time of Aché, the fact that AIDS was blowing through the black gay community—it meant that you had these bright, shining supernovas, like poet Essex Hemphill, that were just gone at the height of their powers. Just as cancer was taking folks like Audre Lorde and Pat Parker. It was a moment that can’t really be replicated. In the midst of all the tragedy it felt like we were in a moment of something special and sacred. I don’t have any other way to say it. And in this midst of all this is an explosion in openly overt, Black queer culture. No longer in code or in the shadows, but in your face. For those of us who were there and caught up in the whirlpool, it felt like something important and divine was playing out.
