Arts & Entertainment
Images and outrage
Controversy aside, ‘Hide/Seek’ is a groundbreaking show

A still from the video that caused controversy in the current "Hide/Seek" exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery.
Catcher Yogi Berra once famously called it “deja vu all over again.” But it was Karl Marx who perhaps defined it best as “when history repeats itself — the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.”
That was the feeling at least for a moment last week, when officials at the National Portrait Gallery censored a video component of its exhibit titled “Hide/Seek,” the show about gay and lesbian sexual love and its impact on American art. Complaints by right-wing Catholics over 11 seconds of a depiction of ants crawling on a crucifix was enough for NPG director Martin E. Sullivan to decide to turn tail and yank an entire half-hour-long 1987 video, titled “A Fire in My Belly” — a meditation on the ravages of AIDS by David Wojnarowicz, the gay artist who died from HIV-related causes in 1992.
Shades of Robert Mapplethorpe and the cancellation of an exhibit of his erotically charged photos by the Corcoran Gallery of Art in 1989. And now as then GOP politicians are on the attack under the banner of “no promo homo,” and also as before, another gallery — this time Flashpoint — courageously took up the challenge and began to show the offending video.
But what about the groundbreaking NPG show itself, which opened in October and runs through mid-February? It’s stunning with 105 pieces of art from the canon of America’s greatest artists of the past century and more, depicting the ways in which their sexual orientations expressed themselves — usually coded and concealed — visually on canvas and other surfaces and as images in motion.
The exhibit is titled as a playful reminder of the childhood game of hide-and-seek, when concealment is the first task for survival. “HIDE/SEEK — Difference and Desire in American Portraiture,” with its range and breadth of seeing and finding works of art that dare speak, however sotto voce, the name of taboo love, boldly snaps in two the several decades-long taboo, welded firmly in place after the Mapplethorpe fiasco, of acknowledging same-sex desire in major U.S. museums.
The range of artists begins with Thomas Eakins and his scenes of naked boys swimming and passes through other giants of American painting — John Singer Sargent, George Bellow, Georgia O’Keefe, Jasper Johns, Robert Rauschenberg, Andy Warhol and others — to our own new century. But as co-curator Jonathan D. Katz contends, “seeking and noticing” the sexual subtexts of their work “are two very different acts,” and this exhibit “seeks to turn such seeing into noticing.”
As with their work itself, nothing is as it seems at first. Therefore, “HIDE/SEEK” features, says Katz, “straight artists representing gay figures, gay artists representing straight figures, gay artists representing gay figures, and even straight artists representing straight figures, when of interest to gay people/culture.”
For Katz, considered the dean of academic study of gay and lesbian art history, this has been the curatorial work of more than 15 years. Katz shaped this exhibit with Smithsonian historian David C. Ward, who has openly called Katz “my camerado — per Walt (Whitman).”
Ward also says that Katz, who founded the gay and lesbian studies program at Yale University and is the first tenured professor in LGBT studies in the nation, “is a model of the engaged scholar” and as a result ran afoul of academic norms in the past for his avowed interest in these subjects.
“He’s someone who managed to be thrown out of two institutions, the University of Chicago and Johns Hopkins University,” Ward says, “for daring in the 1970s to want to write about gay and lesbian Americans.”
In the magisterial catalogue accompanying the exhibit, Katz confesses that their choice of subjects is “firmly canonical” and rooted in “the register of great American artists … within the American mainstream,” so that many artists, less well known, have been excluded. The key objective, says Katz, is to show that “the assumption that same-sex desire is at best tangential to the history of American art” is “utterly unsupportable.”
With “HIDE/SEEK,” and even with the Wojnarowicz censorship fresh at hand, it now seems safe to say, in Katz’s words, that the “pervasive silencing of same-sex desire in accounts of American portrait painting” is over.
Perhaps the most interesting feature of the exhibit comes in its revelation that American artists at the turn of the 20th century could in fact be much more open about their subject matter than those of the mid-20th century in a period haunted by sexual McCarthyism and the hunt for “reds and gays” in government, the schools and the clergy. During that era only on the fringes of the entertainment world, and there not always, could different sexual proclivities find open or even closeted refuge.
In other words, same-sex desire could be expressed more freely in the arts at that earlier time “prior to the advent of ‘homosexuality’ as an available category,” says Katz, even though same-sex desire acted upon was literally a crime. But this was before an explicit “homo/hetero binary” was established as the enforced norm, he says, and before “gay” and “straight” were paired as strict opposites instead of subtle inflection points on a spectrum of the sort spelled out by Alfred Kinsey in his scale of zero to six.
Key to this transformation, Katz says, was when “sexual behavior evolve(d) into sexual identity, from what you did to what you were.” In the earlier era, after all, sexual identity was premised not on the gender of one’s sexual partner but rather on one’s own gendered role —insertive or receptive — in the sex act. As Katz notes, “it was socially acceptable to penetrate a queer” for sexual relief and as “tolerable stand-ins for women.”
Thus, Katz begins the exhibit catalogue with a searching exegesis of George Bellows’ print from 1917, “The Shower Bath,” where two naked men are depicted front and center – one thin and effeminate, looking seductively over his shoulder and thrusting his posterior provocatively at a second man, beefy of build, butch and masculine, whose towel barely conceals his sexual arousal. Opposites in every way, “they are made a pair,” says Katz, and what he calls “the odd couple” are “the focal point of this image.” But the forward homoeroticism of the Bellows print did not hamper its commercial success at the time. And Bellows himself was a man devoted to his wife and children.
There is, of course much more in this exhibit, with many works coded with layers of longing, that NPG director Sullivan — before the controversy erupted over the video — spoke of “with pride” as offering “a new lens with which to view the panorama of American life.” It is indeed, as he said earlier, “a sumptuous survey of more than a century of American portraiture,” asking “new questions and risking new interpretations.” It dares to be at once risky and risque.
With portraits such as these, we enter the lives of others, to explore how identities were forged in the past. With portraits such as these, we end up staring at ourselves.

‘A Wrinkle in Time’
Through July 20
Arena Stage
1101 Sixth St., S.W.
Tickets range from $59-$209
Arenastage.org
Currently at Arena Stage, talented out actor and singer Taylor Iman Jones is rekindling an old friendship with an adored character of fiction.
Broadway vet Jones is starring as 13-year-old Meg Murry in “A Wrinkle in Time,” the world-premiere musical adaptation of Madeleine L’Engle’s same-titled book.
For many readers, especially women, the classic 1962 young adult novel, was their first foray into sci-fi, particularly one with a female protagonist.
The story centers on Meg, an awkward schoolgirl whose physicist father has mysteriously disappeared. Now, Meg, her popular friend Calvin, and smart younger brother Charles Wallace are tasked with moving through time and space to find him. Along the way they encounter adventure and evil.
For Jones, 33, playing 13-year-old Meg feels freeing in ways. She says, “As you get older, you’re told to grow up, so I like letting go of some of that. To feel feelings in their rawest form and to tap back into that is fun. I like the spontaneity. There are highs and lows to revisit.”
Born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, Jones began piano lessons at just six and soon added band and plays to their pursuits. Following high school, she made a deep dive into California theater for seven years before making the big move to New York in 2017 where after just two months she was singing on Broadway.
The determined and appealing Jones, who lives in New York with their partner, boasts an impressive bio. She has appeared on Broadway as Catherine Parr, Henry VIII’s sixth and final wife in Six, and in the original casts of “Head Over Heels” and “Groundhog Day.” She’s been seen in national tours of “Hamilton” and “American Idiot.”
WASHINGTON BLADE: It seems “A Wrinkle in Time” and Meg mean a lot to a lot of people.
TAYLOR IMAN JONES: The book tells the story of a girl with so much undiscovered power who’s accomplishing things she never imagined that she could.
BLADE: Can you relate?
JONES: Meg wears her emotions on her sleeve. I can certainly relate to that. I’m a Pisces. Sometimes being hyperemotional and very empathetic can feel like a burden, but as I’ve matured, I have realized that it’s not a bad quality. And it’s something I’ve learned to harness and to enjoy. I love that I can play a role like Meg in front of thousands of people.
BLADE: Was “Wrinkle in Time” a book you knew well?
JONES: Oh yeah, it’s a favorite book that lives in my heart and my mind. It’s one of the first books that taught me about the adventure of reading.
BLADE: And playing a favorite character must be a kick.
JONES: It really is.
BLADE: Meg is a big part in a big show.
JONES: This musical is huge. They’re traveling through space and meeting people on different planets. 20-person cast. 30 songs in the show. Quite the undertaking and I’m proud of us. I’m on stage for the entire musical and I sing four or five numbers.
As a mezzo soprano I guess you’d say I have the luxury of being able to do a lot of musicals that span a lot of different genres: rock musical, pop musical, and standards. “A Wrinkle in Time” is contemporary musical theater.
For me, singing is probably the least difficult part of the show. What’s harder for me is the way Meg experiences trauma; I need to be careful when I’m screaming and yelling.
BLADE: It seems mostly women have been involved in making this production happen (book by Lauren Yee; music and lyrics by Heather Christian; directed by Lee Sunday Evans; and choreography by Ani Taj.)
JONES: It’s true, the director, writer, etc., and most of our producers are all women. This doesn’t happen most of the time. For me it means new ideas and fresh energy, and pushing the limits of musical theater.
It’s also created a wonderful space in which to work. It can be more generous, and understanding. And centering the story on a young girl is something we can all relate to.
BLADE: Will “A Wrinkle in Time” resonate with queer theatergoers and their families?
JONES: I think so, especially on the heels of pride month. It’s truly a show for all ages about finding your inner strength and fighting for the things that you love; not letting evil win over the power of good, and not just for yourself but for those around you too.
Movies
Two new documentaries highlight trans history
‘I’m Your Venus’ on Netflix, ‘Enigma’ on HBO/Max

One of the most telling things about queer history is that so much of it has to be gleaned by reading between the lines.
There are the obvious tentpoles: the activism, the politics, the names and accomplishments of key cultural heroes. Without the stories of lived experience behind them, however, these things are mere information; to connect with these facts on a personal level requires relatable everyday detail — and for most of our past, such things could only be discussed in secret.
In recent decades, thanks to increased societal acceptance, there’s been a new sense of academic “legitimacy” bestowed upon the scholarship of queer history, and much has been illuminated that was once kept in the dark. The once-repressed expressions of our queer ancestors now allow us to see our reflections staring back at us through the centuries, and connect us to them in a way that feels personal.
One of the most effective formats for building that connection, naturally enough, is documentary filmmaking — an assertion illustrated by two new docs, each focused on figures whose lives are intertwined with the evolution of modern trans culture.
“I’m Your Venus,” now streaming on Netfllix, bookends an iconic documentary from the past: “Paris is Burning (1990), Jennie Livingston’s seminal portrait of New York City’s ballroom scene of the ‘80s. In that film, a young trans woman named Venus Xtravagana delivered first-person confessionals for the camera that instantly won the hearts of audiences — only for them to break with the shattering revelation that she had been murdered before the film’s completion.
That 1988 murder was never solved, but Venus — whose surname was Pellagatti before she joined the House of Xtravaganza – was never forgotten; four decades later, her family (or rather, families) want some answers, and filmmaker Kimberly Reed follows her biological siblings — Joe, Louie, and John, Jr. — as they connect with her ballroom clan in an effort to bring closure to her loss; with the help of trans advocates, they succeed in getting her murder case re-opened, and work to achieve a posthumous legal name change to honor her memory and solidify her legacy.
It’s a remarkably kind and unapologetically sentimental chronicle of events, especially considering the brutal circumstances of Venus’ killing — a brutal death by strangling, almost certainly perpetrated by a transphobic “john” who left her body hidden under a mattress in a seedy hotel — and her decision to leave her birth family for a chosen one. As to the latter, there are no hard feelings among her blood relatives, who assert — mostly convincingly — that they always accepted her for who she was; one senses that a lot of inner growth has contributed to the Pallagatti clan’s mission, which admittedly sometimes resembles an attempt at making amends. For the murder itself, it’s best to leave that part of the story unspoiled — though it’s fair to say that any answers which may or may not have been found are overshadowed by the spirit of love, dignity, and determination that underscore the search for them, however performative some of it might occasionally feel. Ultimately, Venus is still the star of the show, her authentic and unvarnished truth remaining eloquent despite the passage of more than 40 years.
Perhaps more layered and certainly more provocative, documentarian Zackary Drucker’s “Enigma” (now streaming on HBO/Max) delves further back into trans history, tracing the parallel lives of two women — trans pioneer and activist April Ashley and self-styled European “disco queen” Amanda Lear — whose paths to fame both began in Paris of the 1950s, where they were friends and performers together at Le Carrousel, a notorious-and-popular drag cabaret that attracted the glitterati of Europe.
Ashley (who died at 86 in 2021) was a former merchant seaman from Liverpool whose “underground” success as a drag performer funded a successful gender reassignment surgery and led to a career as a fashion model, as well as her elevation-by-wedding into British high society — though the marriage was annulled after she was publicly outed by a friend, despite her husband’s awareness of her trans identity at the time of their marriage. She went on to become a formidable advocate for trans acceptance, and for environmental organizations like Greenpeace, who would earn an MBE for her efforts, and wrote an autobiography in which she shared candid stories about her experiences and relationships as part of the “exotic” Parisian scene from which she launched her later life.
The other figure profiled by “Enigma” — and possibly the one to which its title most directly refers — is Amanda Lear, who also (“allegedly”) started her rise to fame at Le Carrousel before embarking on a later career that would include fashion modeling, pop stardom, and a long-term friendship with surrealist painter Salvador Dalí. A self-proclaimed “disco queen” whose success in Europe never quite spread to American culture (despite highly public associations with musical icons like David Bowie and Roxy Music), Lear’s trajectory has taken her in a different direction than Ashley’s. In the film’s extensive live interview segments, she repeatedly denies and discredits suggestions of her trans identity, sticking to a long-maintained script in which any and all details of her origins are obscured and denied as a matter of course.
At times, it’s almost amusing to observe her performative (there’s that word again) denials, which occasionally approach a kind of deliberate “camp” absurdity in their adamance, but there’s also a kind of grudging respect that’s inspired by the sheer doggedness with which she insists on controlling the narrative — however misguided it may seem to those of us on the outside. Debate about her gender-at-birth has continued for decades, even predating Ashley’s book, so the movie’s “revelations” are hardly new, nor even particularly controversial — but her insistence on discrediting them provides sharp contrast with the casual candor of Ashley’s elegantly confident persona, underscoring the different responses to transphobia that would direct the separate lives of both these former (alleged) friends.
For what it’s worth, Lear sent an email to the Washington Post, calling the movie “a pathetic piece of trash” and denying not just her trans identity but any friendship or association with Ashley, despite ample photographic and anecdotal evidence to the contrary — and while it might come across as callous or desperate for her to maintain the presumed façade, it’s a powerful testament to the power of cultural bullying to suppress the truth of queer existence; the contrast between the life each of these women chose to live speaks volumes, and makes “Enigma” into one of the most interesting — and truthful — trans documentaries to emerge thus far.
While neither film presents a comprehensive or definitive view of trans experience (is such a thing even possible, really?), both offer a perspective on the past which both honors the truth of queer existence and illustrates the ways in which the stigma imposed by mainstream prejudice can shape our responses to the identity through which we are perceived by the public.
That makes them both worth your attention, especially when our queer history — and the acknowledgement of trans existence itself — is at risk or being rolled right back up into the closet.
Sports
Trans cyclist’s victory sparks outrage in conservative media
Katheryn Phillips is originally from DC

On the heels of UPenn erasing the record of the first openly transgender NCAA Division I All-American swimmer and the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision to tackle bans on trans student-athletes, right wing media is now all hot and bothered about the latest trans woman who won a cycling championship — even though she competed according to the rules.
On Tuesday, 58-year-old Katheryn Phillips finished first in USA Cycling’s Lyons Masters National Championship race for women aged 55-59, with a time of 1:42:10, according to the official results posted by the organization. The record shows her gender as “F” for female.
One second behind Phillips was Julie Peterson, with a time of 1:42:11 — as were three other cyclists: Mary Beth Grier, Andrea Cherniak-Tyson, and Carolyn Maddox.
Peterson, 57, was so outraged, she told Fox News she refused to stand on the podium in second place next to Phillips. Her story was swiftly shared by the New York Post (also owned by Fox’s parent company News Corp.), the Daily Mail, Breitbart, and other conservative media.
Both Peterson and another competitor are accusing USA Cycling of “hiding” that a transgender woman had registered to race.
“It was hidden from us. Katheryn Phillips, KJ’s name, was not on that list. And I checked it up all the way to the point of closure when we couldn’t register online anymore,” Debbie Milne told Fox.
“If I had known, I wouldn’t have spent thousands of dollars in travel and time off work to come and do a race,” Peterson said. Fox welcomed Milne, 56, who finished seventh on Tuesday, to Fox & Friends Thursday morning.
(Video courtesy of Fox News)
Peterson told Fox she did complain to USA Cycling officials prior to the race. Both Milne and Peterson referred to Phillips as a male, and with “he/him” pronouns.
“To be fair to all humans, if we want to say ‘him’ or ‘her,’ he was born a biological male, that is a fact,” Milne said. “And that is the thing that makes it an unfair advantage. Whatever has happened after that is a whole different topic.”
“I said, ‘I don’t want to race against a man,’ and they quickly scolded me and said ‘Oh, you can’t call him a man,’ and I’m like ‘Well, he is a man,’ so I was quickly scolded and corrected that it is a woman and I don’t even know what to say.”
USA Cycling did not respond to the Washington Blade’s emails requesting comment.
Phillips, who goes by Kate and by “KJ,” is a former rugby player with the D.C. Furies, who stated in the comments of a 2024 article published by Zwift Insider that she was the first out trans athlete in the U.S. to compete under the 2004 International Olympic Committee’s guidelines on trans participation.
“When USA Rugby told me about the IOC decision in 2004, I raised my hand to be included. I experience nothing but joy when I play, ride, and race,” Phillips said.
As the Blade has reported, the International Olympic Committee drastically revised those rules in 2021, and in March, Republican lawmakers in D.C. demanded the IOC ban trans female athletes from women’s sporting events altogether.
The Blade also reached out to Phillips for comment but as of press time we have not received a response. She told Zwift Insider in March 2024 she does not let those who disapprove or spread hate impact her performance or her attitude.
“I am unaffected by dissent. I love, I share joy, I am me, and I have been my authentic self for decades,” she said. It’s been reported Phillips came out in 1999, and told Zwift Insider she considers herself a lifelong cyclist.
“I’ve been on a bike for as long as I can remember,” said Phillips. “As kids, my friends and I rode all over town, we were feral kids; no cell phones, no trackers … we just roamed, and nobody got in trouble or hurt bad enough not to ride home … Scrapes/bruises/cuts were not an issue for us. In my teens, I worked for myself as a court/legal messenger, doing all of the work via my bike until I got a car. Raced BMX as a kiddo (when I mowed lawns to cover the race entry fees), I did MTB stuff (non-racing) and Sprint/Olympic Triathlons in my 30’s, and now I’m racing on Zwift, Road/Gravel, and CX in my 50s.”
In the comments section, Phillips made clear she’s not competing to win.
“I don’t do sports for victory, I do it because like many other women, I am an athlete to my core,” she said. “Unlike some, I am not there to WIN, I am there to do my best with the competitors and teammates I have around me trying to do the same…we are in it for the experience. I rejoice in their wins, and a lot of joy is reflected back to me when I have a good day.”
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