Arts & Entertainment
Gone too soon
Teen suicide has received renewed awareness but the issue can affect gays well into adulthood
When David Chung took his own life a few weeks ago, his death sent shockwaves through a community that knew him as the smiling Nellie’s bartender. As hundreds gathered at his funeral service, many only wanted to remember the happiness he brought to those around him.
But Chung’s death is a reminder of a serious and often silent illness that has long plagued the LGBT community. According to a 2008 study from the Suicide Prevention Resource Center, lesbian, gay and bisexual youths and young adults are three times more likely to report suicidal ideation (thoughts about suicide) and as high as seven times more likely to have reported attempting suicide. Research in these areas is still limited since mortality data does not report sexual orientation.
And while LGBT teen suicide has gotten a lot of attention in the last two years since a spate of bullying and suicide cases have been reported around the country leading to gay columnist Dan Savage’s “It Gets Better” campaign and renewed awareness of the Trevor Project (thetrevorproject.org), an LGBT youth suicide prevention non-profit, depression and suicide disproportionately affect LGBT people at various ages.
Randy Pumphrey, manager of behavioral health at Whitman-Walker Health, says part of suicide prevention is being able to tell the warning signs. He admits, however, that it is not easy for people not trained in the medical field to differentiate between normal ups and downs and full-blown depression.
“I think it is going to be hard, unless you know the person really well,” he says. “You need to watch for extreme changes in behavior.”
Some of these behavioral changes include not acting the same at work or in social groups, withdrawing from social situations, engaging in more risky activities and verbalizing a death threat or wish.
“A lot of people will make outright allusions to suicide like, ‘I won’t be here anymore,’” says Tamara Pincus, a clinical social worker and therapist. “They may even start to give their possessions away to people, indicating that they are making plans to take their lives.”
Both Pumphrey and Pincus cite the stigma LGBT people face as a big stressor on those already predisposed to depression.
“It might be internalized homophobia,” Pumphrey says. “People who are having trouble identifying as gay or lesbian when they are in a heterosexual marriage or not being able to come out at their job, they might attempt suicide. This feeling of rejection, that can be a really huge thing.”
Mary Lou Wallner, minister at T.E.A.C.H. Ministries, directly understands how rejection can affect a person. Her daughter, Anna, committed suicide in 1997. Wallner says her daughter came out to her in a letter in 1988.
“At the time I was deeply entrenched in a conservative church,” she says. “When she came out, I thought that it was an abomination. I told her so in a letter.”
In the letter, she wrote, “I will never accept that in you. I feel it’s a terrible waste, besides being spiritually and morally wrong … I do and will continue to love you, but I will always hate that.”
Waller says she did not understand that her sexual orientation was not a choice. Nine years went by during which they continued contact but then in 1996, Anna began seeing a therapist who encouraged her to cut off contact with her family. Wallner began collecting cards and money she wanted to give her daughter in a shoebox so when they began speaking she could give them to her. Wallner never got the chance.
“There were probably a ton of warning signs,” she says. “I feel there were clues she was trying to give me. I have many, many regrets.”
Before Anna came out to her mother, she tried slitting her wrists and in another incident, took a whole bottle of aspirin. In hindsight, Wallner says she would have, “gotten in her car and driven to her right away” once she had cut off communication.
Pumphrey says the challenge is not only identifying the warning signs of depression, but also taking action. He says it might be a challenge to speak with someone who is going through this, but in the end it would be worth it.
“What happens in our culture is people are afraid to ask the questions about how a person is thinking and feeling,” he says. “If a person is having suicidal thoughts, they are usually thinking about how they are going to do it. Getting their plan helps you intervene and it may buy you some time.”
If a person seems to be posing an immediate threat to themselves or others, Pumphrey says the person should be taken to an emergency room or 911 should be called. This way he/she can be evaluated and possibly get treatment.
“My prerogative at this time is going to be their safety,” he says. “They may be angry upfront because it feels like a violation, but this is really serious and they might need help.”
Pincus says there are still several challenges facing the LGBT community, especially teenagers and young adults who are really connected to their family. She suggests if families are not supportive of their child’s sexual orientation, that person should seek support outside of their family.
“I think we would like to say that our society is getting past the stigma of LGBT, but we are really not,” she says. Pincus, who came out as bi when she was 16, says that the continual harassment and bullying that occurs in schools and other social venues to LGBT people is a major reason why the suicide rate is higher than for other groups.
“People are still getting beat up for holding hands with their partners and transgender people are getting shot because of their gender identity,” she says.
Since her daughter’s death, Wallner has shared her story with other groups around the country and was featured in the documentary “For the Bible Tells Me So.” She began T.E.A.C.H. Ministries, which stands for “To Educate About the Consequences of Homophobia.” She tries to spread the message of tolerance, not only for the LGBT community, but also for those who may not understand completely.
While she does not discuss scripture with others, she does have a message for other believers.
“It’s not a choice, if it is not a choice it can’t be a sin,” she says.
Out & About
Blade Foundation to host fundraiser in Rehoboth on Sept. 12
Mayor-elect Stewart, state Rep. Snyder-Hall to give remarks
The Washington Blade Foundation will host a fundraiser on Saturday, Sept. 12 in Rehoboth Beach featuring remarks from Rehoboth’s Mayor-elect Susan Stewart and Delaware state Rep. Claire Snyder-Hall.
The Foundation funds fellowships for aspiring queer journalists and enterprise journalism projects.
The event will be held at a private home in Rehoboth. Tickets are $100 and include open bar from Diego’s, catered appetizers from the Blue Moon, entertainment, guest speakers, and an auction. Tickets are available here.
Books
New book examines fashionista Audrey Smaltz’s fabulous life
‘Every Inch a Lady’ reveals finding true love with another woman
‘Every Inch a Lady’
By Audrey Smaltz with Alina Mitchell
c.2026, Amistad
$27.99/256 pages
Snaps, zippers, buttons, ties.
Toss that garment on, pull it up, wrap it around, you know what you like and how to wear it. The color is perfect for your skin tone, the fabric enhances your form. Yep, you always look your best and, as in the new book “Every Inch a Lady” by Audrey Smaltz (with Alina Mitchell), that best is fabulous.

”Born, bred, toasted, buttered, jellied, and honeyed in Harlem” in 1937, Audrey Smaltz was a force to be reckoned with almost from the time she could walk. Her parents imbued confidence in her, they nurtured her creativity and sent her to charm school, but they never allowed her to create a stir.
“That,” says Smaltz, “is not what ladies did.”
By the time she was a teenager, Smaltz was modeling for New York City designers. Shortly thereafter, she started working for a married man with whom she had an affair, and whom she loved very much. She broke up with him, attended college, worked a series of jobs that taught her about fashion and jobs that didn’t seem to fit her. An ill-fated marriage took her to Chicago where she ultimately landed a position that sent her to work in Ebony magazine’s New York office.
Working at Ebony was a career-changer, in a way. Smaltz was able to travel the world and learn more about fashion, but she didn’t exactly get along with her boss.
Finally, seizing an opportunity, Smaltz decided to launch her own company, Audrey Smaltz, Inc., a “fashion production business,” but she couldn’t get any designers to take a chance on her. Undaunted, she reorganized, re-branded, hit the streets, and knocked on doors until she finally found one client, which led to many others.
Through it all, her personal life was a whirlwind. She dated “more men than you can shake a book at,” settling down occasionally, briefly. Fashion had always been her first love, but she accidentally found real love, “the love of a woman,” at a leadership course.
There’s an old saying that writers need to add lots of “color” into their stories. Read a little of “Every Inch a Lady,” and you’ll notice immediately that author Audrey Smaltz (with Alina Mitchell) quite literally takes that to heart by mentioning nearly every color of the spectrum here. Hmm.
That oddity aside, Smaltz is a wonderfully lively storyteller, speaking with the energy of a woman much younger to the heart of anyone who loves fashion. That glee extends to collectors of vintage clothing, who will be delighted to read about the industry long ago and the way things worked then. Smaltz says she experienced racism, which is not unusual for pre-Civil Rights America, but doors were surprisingly closed for other reasons that will astound anyone who’s savvy about the fashion industry, even today.
There’s quite a bit of name-dropping in this book but most of it belongs in the anecdotes, so you likely won’t mind. If you’re a fashionista, too, find “Every Inch a Lady,” and snap it up.
The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.
Theater
Actress takes on bisexual ‘Ma’ Rainey in new Round House production
Haskins relishes playing ‘impassioned Black woman who sticks to her guns’
‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’
Sept. 9-Oct. 11
Round House Theatre
4545 East-West Highway
Bethesda, MD 20814
$50 and up
Roundhousetheatre.org
Among the Black blues women of the 1920s and 1930s, being “in the life” wasn’t uncommon. Self-supporting and often on the road, they followed the Great Northern Migration to places like Chicago and Harlem, where they lived independent lives, made music, enjoyed same-sex relationships, and partied with like-minded ladies.
Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, best known as the “mother of the blues,” fit the bill. A big star, Ma toured the country and sold hit records nationwide. She lived an openly bisexual life.
In 1925, hosting an “indecent” all-female party at a Chicago apartment, landed Ma in jail, but blues singer Bessie Smith, Ma’s protégée and erstwhile girlfriend, promptly bailed her out. Three years later, Ma released a popular track whose lyrics included “Went out last night with a crowd of my friends / They must’ve been women, ’cause I don’t like no men.”
She was also a woman who knew her value. Ma’s voice was a powerful passport.
Ma Rainey is the ultimate force of strength and resistance in August Wilson’s 1982 play, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” the first of the late playwright’s brilliant Century Cyle, a collection of mostly Pittsburgh-set plays that chronicle the 20th century African-American experience.
Poised to kick off a month-long run at Round House (Sept. 9-Oct. 11), the production (co-produced with Olney Theatre Center) is directed by Lili-Anne Brown and features out actor and powerhouse vocalist Nicole Michelle Haskins making her Round House debut as Ma Rainey.
Set in a Chicago recording studio in 1927, the drama follows Ma, her Black band members and white producers as they try to record a new album of her sons. Tensions over artistic control, racial exploitation, and personal ambitions come to the fore. Amid the difficulties and a fair bit of humor, arises a serious clash involving hotheaded young trumpet player Levee (Yao Dogbe) who wants to alter musical arrangements on the titular song.
Playing blues icon Ma Rainey wasn’t on Haskins’s radar. Because the bulk of her work is in musical theater, Haskins never foresaw being tapped to do a Wilson play.
“It’s kind of like Shakespeare. Not restrictive but respected; not everyone gets a ticket to the party. So, I figured that I just wouldn’t pursue that,” she says matter-of-factly.
However, fate would dictate differently. Haskins and director Brown are longtime friends and collaborators. They recently worked together on “The Color Purple” at Chicago’s prestigious Goodman Theatre where Haskins played Sofia, another powerful Black woman who, not unlike Ma, is navigating life in a patriarchal white world.
When the opportunity came up to play Ma at Round House, Brown encouraged Haskins to audition. She did and got the part. “I’m so grateful to be working with a wonderful director like Lili-Anne, especially during my introduction to Wilson’s work. He is a theater god, and I’m swept every day.”
And is it special to be queer and playing queer? “For me, it’s special to play any role where there is an impassioned Black woman who sticks to her guns and fights for the things she deserves. Her sexuality is the icing on the cake.”
The production adheres to Wilson’s text and the text describes a woman who is in a relationship with another woman. Though her sexuality is provocative, it’s not the only thing about her that’s compelling. She’s also portrayed as an artist, businesswoman, and a loving aunt.
Haskins, a New York-based actor who made her name on the Chicago theater scene, grew up in Detroit. At 12, she became involved with the Mosaic Youth Theatre of Detroit; after high school she went on to earn a BFA at Detroit’s Wayne State University. Detroit is also where Haskins learned storytelling: “It’s very natural for a Detroit native to greet people on the street. There’s an expectation to be open to someone else’s story and to share your own. I’ve done this many times.”
Queer characters are famously underrepresented in Wilson’s work. “I see that, but do we really know for sure? After the first day’s read through of the play, some of the actors, for different reasons, wondered if in addition to Ma, perhaps one or two of the other characters might be queer too. Now wouldn’t that be interesting? That’s something I’d like to see.”

