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Obama turns the tables on GOP

As we celebrate Pride, let’s thank the president for changing the game

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President Obama’s recent endorsement of marriage equality is historic and noteworthy for plenty of obvious reasons.

But looking back just eight years and examining how marriage was used during the 2004 election illustrates just how dramatically things have changed — and what a stroke of political genius Obama’s announcement really was.

Back then, President Bush was running for re-election against Democrat John Kerry. Eleven states had gay marriage bans on the ballot, a strategy pushed by Karl Rove and Bush campaign manager Ken Mehlman. They were: Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Michigan, Mississippi, Montana, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon and Utah. All passed with overwhelming support; all but two (Michigan and Oregon) were approved with more than 60 percent of the vote. Researchers have since noted that those marriage amendments did not increase Republican voter turnout compared to the other 39 states so Bush’s re-election cannot be blamed on them. But there’s no question that gay and lesbian couples were very much in the crosshairs eight years ago.

At the time, President Bush did a masterful job of using the issue against his opponent. Kerry twisted himself into knots trying to rationalize his opposition to a federal constitutional amendment, while supporting a state amendment in Massachusetts. Former President Clinton reportedly advised Kerry to support the federal amendment advocated by Bush. (Clinton’s people denied that claim, but widely respected Democratic consultant Bob Shrum wrote in his book that Clinton offered that piece of cynical advice to Kerry.)

The Democrats were caught off guard and had no discernible or intellectually honest and consistent response.

Just eight short years later, who could have predicted the new, radically altered landscape? Mehlman is openly gay and working to advance marriage equality; Bill Clinton, Vice President Biden, Laura Bush and Dick Cheney support marriage rights for gays; the nation’s first black president — along with the NAACP — supports it, too.

What’s brilliant and gratifying about Obama’s announcement is that he has turned the tables on the Republicans: They are now on the defensive, caught off guard by the swift-moving current of progressive change on this issue. Asked about Obama’s marriage support, Mitt Romney’s campaign manager, Eric Fehrnstrom appeared flustered and tripped over himself trying not to offend gays and sound like a dinosaur. Romney supports a federal amendment banning same-sex marriage, but has tried to soften the anti-gay rhetoric, knowing it doesn’t resonate with independent voters who will likely decide this election.

Obama’s announcement has inspired — and will continue to inspire — many others from diverse backgrounds to get off the fence and back equality. From Steny Hoyer to Jay-Z, the nation is listening to our thoughtful president and finding the courage to support our full participation in society.

So, as we gather this week to celebrate an especially joyous Pride season, let us thank President Obama and pledge to work and vote for his second term. The biggest threat to the LGBT movement in this country is Mitt Romney, an unprincipled flip-flopper who has signed a pledge to support a constitutional ban on our marriages.

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Letter-to-the-Editor

Banning the Rainbow Flag: the latest act of GOP madness

Prohibition included in government spending bill the president signed

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The Progress Pride flag flies in front of the U.S. Embassy in Berlin on July 22, 2022. (Washington Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

The Republican agenda is an obvious one: Distract from real issues by assaulting the most vulnerable. That’s why they have focused their hatred on the LGBTQ+ community. After years of legislating book bans, curriculum censorship, bathroom restrictions and withholding medically needed gender therapy, their latest act is signature Republican cruelty: For a crucial trillion-dollar budget that would prevent a government shutdown, the GOP slipped in a measure to ban the display of Rainbow Flags at U.S. embassies all over the world.

This is not an act of mere symbolism. In too many countries, being queer is punishable by imprisonment or death. Measures like this give a green light to violence and homophobia both at home and abroad. It places more LGBTQ+ people at tangible risk. It is an outrageous abuse of the political process.

This cynical political maneuver is typical of the GOP, the Party of Destruction. But equally egregious is that President Biden and Democrats approved the budget, knowing the poison pill line item that had already been added.

Now, President Biden vows to repeal the embassy flag ban measure. We will hold him to his vow. Will he expend the political capital necessary to make the repeal happens? We must remember that he and the Congress capitulated to a small group of GOP manipulators and, in this instance, saw the global LGBTQ+ community as expendable.

The Democratic Party positions itself as an ally to the LGBTQ+ community. They must hold their ground. They must represent and defend all of us. Otherwise, an emboldened GOP, led by Trump, will only escalate their merciless attacks on our vulnerable communities.”

Charles Beal is president of the Gilbert Baker Foundation and the Save the Rainbow Flag Campaign.

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Commentary

Returning to the kibbutz: A journey of heartbreak and hope

Hamas militants attacked Kfar Aza on Oct. 7

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Kfar Aza, Israel, after Oct. 7, 2023. (Photo courtesy of K.T. Colin)

Editor’s note: WDG, the Washington Blade’s media partner in Israel, originally published this commentary.

BY K.T. COLIN | In 2019, my first encounter with Israel was through the lens of a sponsored Birthright trip. I embarked on a three-week journey, traversing the diverse landscapes from the northern regions to the eastern territories and finally to the arid southern desert. I had the opportunity to visit different communities within Israel and Palestine. Amidst this exploration, I spent an unforgettable three days and two nights in a kibbutz situated near the Gaza border. The memories etched in my heart were ones of unbridled joy, resilience and the harmonious coexistence of the desert dwellers — an emotional tapestry that forever imprinted itself on my soul. Coming from an Iraqi heritage, I viewed these expressions of coexistence through a lens shaped by my own region’s history of conflict and diversity.

As I recall the Shabbat dinner at the kibbutz, the air resonated with the sacred call to prayers (Adhan) from a nearby Bedouin Arab-Muslim town. The juxtaposition of cultures and faiths was a poignant reminder of the shared humanity that bound the Jewish and Arab Israelis in this region. It was a journey that transcended the ordinary, leaving an indelible mark on my consciousness. Filled with memories of peace and unity, I returned, only to confront a reality far removed from my cherished memories.

Fast forward to last month, when I returned to the Negev Desert, specifically to Kfar Aza — one of the 22 kibbutzim targeted by Hamas on that fateful day, Oct. 7, 2023. The once vibrant oasis, brimming with the light of life, now stood shrouded in the darkness of war-induced death and destruction. The very bench where camaraderie blossomed in 2019, while sharing a moment of connection with an Israeli companion, lay reduced to ashes. The thriving pathways, once bustling with life, had metamorphosed into haunting reminders of blood and rubble. The faces that animated Shabbat gatherings, weaving tales of peace advocacy between Palestinians and Israelis, were now conspicuously absent. In the wake of Hamas’s brutality, no entity — be it human, animal or plant — escaped unscathed. The aftermath resembled scenes from an apocalyptic movie, a tableau of sensory deprivation dominated by the stench of death and the echoes of destruction. This destruction, while uniquely harrowing, echoed the all-too-familiar scenes of conflict from my childhood in Iraq, underscoring the universal tragedy of war.

Kfar Aza, Israel (Photo courtesy of K.T. Colin)

While my roots trace back to Iraq, a land marred by wars and the brutality of conflict, the devastation witnessed in Kfar Aza struck a chord that reverberated with the echoes of my past. My personal journey, from witnessing Saddam’s reign of terror to observing the aftermath in Kfar Aza, underscores a broader narrative of resilience and the enduring hope for peace. Born during the Iraqi-Iranian war, my father’s absence for the first six months of my life spoke volumes about the toll of conflict. The invasion of Kuwait and subsequent wars entrenched the narrative of war as an unwelcome companion in our daily lives. Memories of the U.S. invasion in 2003, the ensuing civil war, and the subsequent loss of rights for women, secular individuals and LGBTQ+ members further underscored the harsh reality of conflict.

Yet, Kfar Aza was a unique chapter in my journey, revealing a form of malevolence that transcended my prior experiences. In their assault, Hamas meticulously targeted specifically peace activists who wanted nothing but peace and prosperity between Israelis and Palestinians, sparing no atrocity in their pursuit. This was not just about taking lives; it was a heinous assault on the very prospect of peace. The evil that unfolded reminded me of the forces mentioned in the Quran — Yaajooj and Maajooj — entities of pure malevolence against whom even Alexander the Great erected a wall, according to Muslim prophecy.

My upbringing in Iraq, under the shadow of Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship, fanned the flames of anti-Semitism. A once diverse Iraq, home to 165,000 Iraqi Jews, witnessed their forced exodus through decades of genocide. Subsequently, Christians, Yazidis and Sabbea Mandaeen fell victim to ethnic cleansing orchestrated by dictatorial regimes, Nazi pogroms, Iranian militias and ISIS. The slow erosion of tolerance and coexistence occurred methodically, propelled by hate campaigns championed by Arab nationalists and later fueled by Islamist movements, plunging Iraq into its darkest era.

My school days were marked by compulsory flag-greeting ceremonies, ostensibly patriotic but laden with hate. The chants of “Death to America; Death to the Zionists; Death to the Jews” echoed through the air, fostering a culture of animosity. Arabization and Nationalism classes further fueled this bigotry, leaving an indelible mark on impressionable minds.

The recent horrors in Kfar Aza echoed memories of a similar brand of terror perpetrated by Saddam’s regime — the Fedaeen of Saddam, a precursor to Hamas’s brutality. The parallels were chilling — beheadings, brutal punishments and a reign of terror continued even after the fall of Saddam, as they joined Al-Qaeda, leaving a trail of atrocities in cities like Fallujah and Ramadi.

As I witnessed the devastation in Kfar Aza, the echoes of war in nearby Beit Hanoun, Gaza, resonated hauntingly. The pain echoed from both sides — the Israeli people enduring Hamas rockets since 2015 and the Palestinians suffering daily under the same regime. My heart shattered for the children left orphaned, the LGBTQ+ Gazans now without shelter or life-saving medications and the vulnerable girls and boys exposed to the horrors of Human trafficking and rape. The theft of humanitarian aid by Hamas left many without food and water, and the lip services to Palestinians by Arab and Muslim majority nations, painting a grim picture of a future hanging in uncertainty for those who survived.

Despite the deep scars of conflict, both in my homeland and here, I see glimmers of hope that guide us toward a shared future. I have endured the darkest chapters of conflict in my past, and I hold onto the belief that one day this war will end. I dream of a future where Israelis and Palestinians coexist in shared spaces, attending the same schools, dining at the same restaurants and dancing in the same nightclubs. Having witnessed such unity among Jews, Druze, Muslims and Christians in Israel, I pray for a day when this reality extends to Gazans and Israelis in the Negev Desert. The journey towards peace is arduous, but the human spirit, resilient and compassionate, holds the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

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Commentary

Why come to Washington Plaza Baptist Church?

It’s about the preaching, the people, and the purpose

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Washington Plaza Baptist Church (Photo courtesy of Washington Plaza Baptist Church's Facebook page)

BY ZITA COLLINS | I grew up in a Lutheran church before I really knew who I was. Before my own opinions and belief system were formed. Before “welcoming and affirming” churches existed.

I did the “expected” thing: got married to a man, had children, became a wife and a mom. But I knew there was more to me than that, the part I had to keep hidden because of the society “norms” so many years ago. I attended a Mormon church because that was the type of church my husband attended. As I became more myself having my own opinions and thoughts, and my husband tried to be more controlling, the marriage, of course, failed. 

I quit church. I moved on in life and met a wonderful woman. I knew there was a God, but I figured since I was “living in sin” He didn’t like me too much. My way of looking at it was “God, you stay in your corner and I’ll stay in mine, and we’ll get along just fine.” Four years later, in September 1982, my partner was diagnosed with cancer. A couple of months later, she passed away.

During those few months my friend invited me to go to her Assembly of God church. I became a regular. One Sunday in January 1983, I gave my heart and life to Christ, becoming a full-fledged believer. And once again, I gradually put away the part of me that was “unacceptable to God.”

As time went on, I attended various churches. I attended an Anglican church for 15 years. I loved God, but I could not reconcile how I felt — my LGBTQ self — with scripture as I knew it at that time. It was at a church leadership meeting, when we were voting on a new marriage policy to exclude gay marriage, that I realized my “calling”: to tell the LGBTQ community that God really loves them and accepts them as they are.

I studied scripture, praying for clarity, and realized that those “clobber verses” have been traditionally misinterpreted, misunderstood, or taken out of context. I began looking for a church that was friendly to the gay community. I learned that the correct terminology is “welcoming and affirming.” 

And I found Washington Plaza Baptist Church!

Warm and welcoming, I felt I had found a home. They knew my identity from the start, as I had let it be known that I was looking for a “welcoming and affirming” church. And they loved and accepted me.

So Who is Washington Plaza Baptist Church?

WPBC is a progressive American Baptist church, located on Lake Anne Plaza, with a long and rich history. It was the first church in Reston, Va., a part of Robert E. Simon’s design for the new town named after him. Washington Plaza Baptist Church is an inclusive Christian Community whose worship, communion, and fellowship are open to all. We are a safe place for all people to worship regardless of race, creed, age, cultural background, gender, or sexual orientation. We affirm that all have access to the love of Christ and service to God.

WPBC is very active in Pride. We were involved with the formation of the first Reston Pride and continue to participate each year. We open our fellowship hall for the performers to change and to cool off, and we have a table on the Plaza where we give away free Pride paraphernalia as well as hugs. WPBC has held weddings for same-sex couples — including my wife’s and mine — with most of our members helping in some way to make the day special.

At Washington Plaza Baptist Church, I have been fully embraced for who I am. I have been in leadership from early on. The pastor, Rev. Michelle Nickens, delivers sermons that are powerful and relevant, with a focus on being Christ-like in all areas, including social justice. The people live out their claim of inclusivity and affirmation. The church community truly loves and cares about the people within the church as well as those outside its doors. 

Our address is 1615 Washington Plaza West, Reston, Va. Reach us at 703-471 5225, [email protected]. (We’re on Lake Anne Plaza, right next door to the Lake Anne Coffee House and Wine Bar.)

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