Mama Vi Johnson
When people talk about Leather legends, one name rises again and again: Mama Vi Johnson. Known to most simply as Vi, she is a fierce historian, archivist, and guardian of our collective memory. Without her work, huge swaths of Leather history would have been lost to time, indifference, and the erasure that queer communities have always battled.
Vi is Jill Carter’s partner of 52 years. Jill is the Carter part of the Carter/Johnson Library and Collection, and the first Black International Ms. Leather in 1996. Together, they laid the foundation for the Carter/Johnson Library (CJLC) in Evansville, Indiana - one of our community’s two sacred vaults of stories, artifacts and art.
Vi is a proud Black Leatherwoman. Coming into the scene in an era where women, and especially women of color, were often relegated to the sidelines, she carved space with sheer force of presence. She refused to let women be erased from Leather history, and she refused to allow Leatherfolk of color to be treated as mere footnotes. Her voice is sharp, commanding, and uncompromising, but always grounded in a deep love for our community. Mama Vi has always been unapologetic in centering women’s voices in a world that was, for decades, dominated by gay men. She pushed for visibility, space, and recognition of Leatherwomen, pansexual Leatherfolk, and anyone left standing in the margins. For many, she has been a mentor; the kind of elder who not only preserves the past, but demands that we do better in the present.
She is called “Mama Vi” for a reason. She has mentored countless titleholders, educators, and community leaders. When she speaks, it’s with that rare combination of authority and nurture. She can cut through egos with a single glance, and then turn around and fiercely protect you like her own family. People describe her as both intimidating and deeply comforting, often in the same breath.
On stage, Vi is unforgettable. She doesn’t just teach Leather history; she preaches it. Her talks are equal parts storytelling, truth-telling, and prophecy. She demands respect for those who came before us, insists on accountability for those of us alive now, and challenges us to think about the community we’re leaving for the future.
Vi doesn’t mince words. She has called out sexism, racism, and the rewriting of history when it doesn’t serve truth. Her lectures and presentations are part history lesson, part sermon, and part call to arms: a reminder that Leather is more than just pageantry or a fashion show; it’s survival, resilience, and it is chosen family. Her work has ensured that our stories outlive us. When younger generations step into the CJLC or the LA&M or crack open an archive of essays, they are walking through doors that Vi herself helped hold open. She is more than a historian, she is a living bridge between Leather roots, feminist revolutions, and the Leather of today.
When you meet Mama Vi, you don’t just meet a historian; you meet the embodiment of history, walking and breathing, looking you dead in the eye and saying: “This is your inheritance. Don’t fuck it up.” Because Mama Vi reminds us that without memory, there is no future. She is the voice in our ear saying, “Respect your elders, honor your history, and never let anyone write you out of it.”
