A standard,
signed in public.
A living declaration for dignity and justice — written to be amended by the people who sign it rather than frozen the day it was published.
A living declaration for dignity and justice — written to be amended by the people who sign it rather than frozen the day it was published.
In 1838, a group of British working men published six demands on a single sheet of paper and collected millions of signatures behind it. The demands were unremarkable to modern eyes — the vote by secret ballot, no property requirement to stand for parliament, ordinary things. At the time they were treated as dangerous. Five of the six are now simply how democracy works.
What made the Chartists effective was not that they were right. Plenty of people were right. It was that they wrote it down, put a number of names to it, and refused to let it be treated as an unreasonable position held by a few.
The Bloom Charter is built on that premise: a named, public, signable standard for how trans, disabled, and marginalized people should be treated — not as a wish, but as a document institutions can be measured against and eventually have to answer to.
The Charter is designed to be amended. Community members suggest changes, those move through a review process, and the constitutional core cannot be edited directly by anyone — including its author.
The three-step suggestion-to-publication flow is enforced by the platform itself, not by policy that someone could quietly ignore. That is deliberate: a governance rule nobody can bypass is worth more than one everybody agrees to.
Both can endorse. An organizational endorsement is a public commitment to a standard, which is a meaningfully different act from a statement of support.
Reading and signing are free and always will be. If you want to fund the infrastructure that keeps it running and amendable, that is a separate thing and entirely optional.
47 people were helped before we asked for a dollar. Monthly giving is what lets us say yes before the money is in hand.