The Good Page features positive LGBTQ+ news in Central Florida and Tampa Bay, uplifting and inspiring stories highlighting locals in our community. In this issue, we meet S.W.A.M.P. Central Florida.
It started with an Instagram account and a question that felt both simple and urgent. What happens when you cannot find anyone else who is still masking, still taking COVID-19 seriously, still thinking about disability and collective care? Instead of waiting for an answer, X Sterling decided to build one.
In November 2023, Sterling launched what would become S.W.A.M.P. Central Florida, an acronym that stands for Still Wearing A Mask Proudly. At the time, it was a one-person effort shaped by isolation and necessity.
“I didn’t even know anyone who masked,” Sterling shares. “There was nothing like this. So I thought, I will build it and people will come, hopefully.”
They were right. Two years later, S.W.A.M.P. has grown into an eight-person collective rooted in mutual aid, disability justice and COVID safety. The name carries layered meaning. It nods to Florida’s threatened wetlands and the land the collective operates on, while reclaiming a phrase often used as a political insult. “The swamps don’t need to be drained,” Sterling says. “We need more swamp.” Over time, the acronym has only gained resonance, reflecting both pride and persistence in a world eager to move on.
Growth did not happen without strain. For a long stretch, organizing fell on Sterling alone, alongside one or two others. Many of the volunteers involved are disabled, including Sterling, which shaped how the work evolved.
“As we gained more volunteers, we were able to do more,” Sterling explains. “We kept each other accountable. That’s what made it sustainable.”
As S.W.A.M.P. reached its two-year anniversary, the impact of that care became visible in new ways. The collective marked the milestone with celebrations across Central Florida, including events in St. Petersburg and Tampa, alongside a two-year anniversary collaboration in Orlando with Neighborhood Fridge.
Some of the moments that stand out most come from collective reflection. Across the group, there is a shared pride in what it has meant to bring people together in person again, often for the first time in years. At a recent St. Petersburg event, attendees expressed surprise that something like this could exist at all.
“People were like, who made this event? How is this possible?” Sterling recalls.
Sterling remembers standing in a grocery store when they noticed someone wearing a very specific mask.
“I was like, ‘nice mask,’” they say. The person immediately responded, “Oh, I got it from S.W.A.M.P.” Sterling realized they were talking about the collective’s mask distribution work. “I got to tell them I helped volunteer,” Sterling shares. “And they got to hear it in person, how much it meant.”
For organizers who spend much of their time at home, these brief encounters carry deep affirmation.
At its core, S.W.A.M.P. operates as a mutual aid collective focused on ensuring people have access to high quality masks, COVID tests, education and safer community spaces. The collective has hosted and supported events across Central Florida, including the Disability Sexpo in Orlando and a self-organized anniversary event in St. Petersburg in partnership with Justice Advocacy Network and Clean Air Brigade. That event included free masks, rapid tests, sexual health resources, DIY air purifier demonstrations, shared meals and food donations redistributed through Food Not Bombs.
For Sterling, COVID safety and disability justice are inseparable. “If you’re not taking COVID precautions into account, your space is inaccessible,” they explain. With one in four people in the U.S. disabled and rates rising due to long COVID, the absence of protections has left many behind. Sterling situates this within broader systems of oppression, noting how unmitigated viral spread disproportionately harms Black, indigenous, brown, LGBTQ+ and disabled communities.
Despite the heaviness of the work, joy remains central. Community care shows up through collaboration, shared labor and moments of recognition. Joy also comes from being with others who understand grief, loss and survival. From building something that proves people still care about one another, even when the world insists on moving on. In those moments, S.W.A.M.P. feels less like an organization and more like a living network of care.
For those looking to support S.W.A.M.P., there are many entry points. Sharing information, wearing masks in public, donating through their Givebutter or starting a local mask bloc are all ways to participate. You can follow them on Instagram @swampcentralfl.
As S.W.A.M.P. looks ahead, the vision is simple and expansive: more volunteers, more mask baskets, more events and more moments where people feel less alone.
In a time defined by abandonment and fatigue, S.W.A.M.P. offers something quietly radical. A reminder that care is still possible, that community can be built and that proudly wearing a mask can be an act of connection rather than isolation.
Interested in being featured in The Good Page? Email Editor-in-Chief Ryan Williams-Jent at Ryan@WatermarkOutNews.com in Tampa Bay or Central Florida Bureau Chief Bellanee Plaza at Bellanee@WatermarkOutNews.com in Central Florida.
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