Local
Covering Frank Kameny
A reporter’s 35-year journey chronicling the nation’s preeminent gay activist
Frank Kameny served as a colorful, reliable source for the Blade and other news outlets during his decades of activism. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)
I met Frank Kameny for the first time in the summer of 1974 at a meeting in Washington of the Gay Activists Alliance, now the Gay and Lesbian Activists Alliance.
At 24 years old, I had just landed my first job as a reporter covering the energy and environment beat for a company that published newsletters specializing in reporting on government regulations.
With an undergraduate degree in political science and a year’s worth of graduate studies in journalism under my belt, I walked into that GAA meeting at D.C.’s Quaker Meeting House near Dupont Circle knowing next to nothing about gay rights, gay politics or the gay community.
In the process we know as coming out, I had come to terms with myself as a gay man just months earlier.
So with that as a backdrop, I listened intently to the main topic of the meeting — reports of arrests of gay men at cruising areas by undercover officers assigned to the D.C. police vice squad.
Most of the arrests were not linked to sex in public places, one of the members reported. The men, whom the GAA member described as consenting adults, were merely seeking to meet one another for a sexual tryst or perhaps a lasting friendship that was to take place in the privacy of their homes, not in the public areas where they met.
But in an action I learned later was a routine practice throughout the country at that time, the undercover officers reportedly posed as willing participants and enticed the gay men into “soliciting” them to engage in sodomy, which was a criminal offense that led to an arrest. In some cases the undercover officers used body language suggesting they were inviting the men to touch them in a sexually suggestive way.
If the men took the bait and touched the officers, they were charged with committing a lewd act, a development that could ruin their careers, especially if they worked for the government.
After listening to these reports, a man appearing in his late 40s or early 50s with a booming voice and an obvious thorough knowledge of the issue at hand mapped out a strategy for GAA’s and the gay community’s response: The entrapment arrests of gay men would be portrayed as an “utter” waste of taxpayer’s money and police resources at a time when “real” crime was running rampant in the city.
This self-assured man, who I quickly learned was gay rights pioneer Frank Kameny, raised his voice to emphasize each of his points, attracting the attention of a maintenance worker in the hallway outside the room. He said police officials were unresponsive to earlier requests to stop the entrapment arrests and it was time to take another course of action.
Kameny said GAA should enlist community allies to help it lobby the City Council to eliminate city funding for the vice squad, which was known at the time as the Prostitution, Perversion, and Obscenity (PPO) Branch.
“It’s an outrage and an injustice,” I recall him saying. “We’re citizens of this city. The police, like all government officials, are public servants. And public servants answer to us.”
Much to my amazement, within a year or two, the City Council, voted to eliminate from the police budget funding for the PPO Branch. Although some of its work in the area of prostitution continued, the police practice of entrapment of gay men soon came to an end.
I was naïve and uninformed on the nuances of the gay rights movement when I attended that meeting in 1974. But I knew a good news source when I saw one.
Frank Kameny become known for his sense of humor during his long activist career and feared his tactics would get him disbarred if he had decided to pursue a law degree. (Washington Blade photo by Doug Hinckle)
Frank Kameny over the next 25 years or more was to become my preeminent news source in my coverage of the LGBT community as a reporter for the Washington Blade.
From the start, I had the good fortune of getting to know Frank Kameny and getting a crash course from him on the history of the gay movement and its current struggles and aspirations.
Since Kameny’s death last week, much has been written about his vast contribution to the LGBT movement over a 50-year period, especially in the decade before the Stonewall rebellion of 1969, which is viewed as the starting point of the modern gay movement.
What hasn’t been reported as widely is Kameny’s impact on the lives of individual lesbians, gay men, and transgender people whom he helped and with whom he interacted. His self-confident and assertive demeanor on behalf of the rights of all LGBT people and his unyielding spirit for fighting injustice – no matter how great the odds appeared to be – came across to those around him.
I’ll never forget the story told to me by a gay man I met at a GAA meeting about six months after that first meeting I attended in the summer of 1974. Appearing in his 40s, the man told me he was born and raised in a conservative, fundamentalist Christian household in southern Virginia and had struggled to accept his homosexuality. He said five years of psychotherapy upon moving to the D.C. area had little effect in helping shake his inner struggles over his sexual orientation.
He said his meeting Kameny and other activists at GAA meetings, and subsequent weekly phone conversations with Kameny on a wide range of issues over a period of months, boosted his self-confidence to a degree that he could never attain in years of therapy.
“I fired my therapist,” he told me while smiling broadly “Frank and the other folks here gave me the insight to understand that the external forces of discrimination and oppression and homophobia are what got me down,” I recall him saying.
Kameny’s assistance to individual LGBT people blossomed in his role as a paralegal counsel representing gays encountering problems with security clearances in the late 1960s through the 1980s. When his clients were comfortable going public with their case, Kameny provided me with copies of his legal briefs challenging actions by various U.S. government agencies, often the Defense Department, seeking to deny or revoke a gay person’s security clearance.
Those targeted for loss of a clearance usually worked for the government or for a private company doing contract work for the government. The main argument used for revoking a clearance was that gay people were susceptible to blackmail and were thus a threat to the safeguarding of government secrets.
Kameny often argued that the government had yet to disclose a single case where a gay person breached government secrets due to blackmail or coercion related to his or her sexual orientation.
He noted that government security officials appeared to be obsessed with the private sex lives of gays holding security clearances. In the course of investigating a gay person over a clearance, security officials demanded to know the identities of all of their sex partners over a period of years and insisted they reveal the specific types of sexual acts the gay person performed with his or her partners.
Kameny’s characteristic response to these inquires surfaced in a 1969 case in which he represented a New York gay man named Benning Wentworth, whose application for a clearance was opposed by the government solely on grounds of his status as a “sexually active” homosexual.
“We state to the world, as we have stated for the public, we state for the record and, if the [Defense] Department forces us to carry the case that far, we state for the courts that Mr. Wentworth, being a healthy, unmarried, homosexual male, 35 years old, has lived, and does live a suitable homosexual life, in parallel with the suitable active heterosexual sexual life lived by 75 percent of our healthy, unmarried, heterosexual males holding security clearances,” Kameny stated in a government hearing to adjudicate Wentworth’s clearance application.
Added Kameny, “Mr. Wentworth will get his clearance as the sexually active homosexual that he is and that he will continue to be…just as heterosexuals get their clearances as sexually active heterosexuals.”
He won many of his cases when, at his suggestion, his clients submitted letters disclosing their sexual orientation to co-workers and family members, eliminating, in Kameny’s assessment, any chance of blackmail threats to reveal the client’s homosexuality.
Some of his clients and fellow activists urged Kameny to get his law degree and become a lawyer, noting that he already knew more about the field of security clearance law than most lawyers. He told me his becoming a lawyer would tie his hands, saying the sometimes outlandish tactics he used would get him disbarred.
“They can’t disbar me if I’m not a member of the bar,” he often said.
In cases where he represented members of the military under investigation for being gay in the years prior to “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” Kameny was blunt about the only means of preventing a discharge: “Lie through your teeth,” he told his clients, or refuse to answer any questions about your sexual orientation.
In one of his military cases in the 1980s, Kameny was scheduled to attend a hearing to discuss planned action by the Army to discharge a service member who was identified as being gay by an acquaintance who was pressured into “snitching” on his fellow service member, as Kameny put it.
For some reason, Army officials insisted on meeting with the service member in private, saying Kameny couldn’t attend that particular session, in which the service member was to be “interviewed,” Kameny said.
As a gesture of protest, Kameny placed his foot in the doorway of the meeting room, preventing one of the officials from closing the door. He backed down after being threatened with arrest, saying the gesture was intended to emphasize his strong opposition to the closed meeting.
His use of fiery language as well as humor often surfaced in his testimony before public hearings held by governmental bodies, including the D.C. City Council.
In the early 1990s, Kameny testified before a D.C. Council committee deliberating over a proposed alley closing sought by Georgetown University to clear the way for construction of a new law school building located near the U.S. Capitol.
Gay activists, led by Kameny and GAA, called on the Council to withhold approval of the alley closing and thus prevent construction of the building until the university ended its policy of refusing to recognize gay student groups on campus.
Shortly after beginning his testimony, Kameny opened his briefcase and pulled out a spray can that he identified as a room deodorizer. He pressed down on the nozzle, spraying a mist in the direction of the Council members seated about 10 feet in front of him.
The “stench of discrimination” being carried out by Georgetown University against gay student groups cannot continue, he said, drawing laughter from the Council members and the audience in the hearing room.
Kameny also directed his sense of humor toward anti-gay organizations, which he closely monitored. On several occasions during the 1980s and 1990s he rushed to the city’s office of corporations and created his own corporation under the exact name of an anti-gay group, preventing the group from setting up its own corporation to do business in D.C.
Although he’s known mostly for his work in the LGBT rights movement, Kameny contributed his talents to other progressive causes. He became the first open gay to be appointed to a prominent city post in the 1970s, when Walter Washington, the city’s first mayor under D.C.’s newly acquired home rule government, named Kameny to the D.C. Commission on Human Rights.
In the early 1980s, Kameny won election to the D.C. Statehood Constitutional Convention and played a lead role in drafting a constitution for the proposed State of New Columbia.
During all of his years as an activist and movement leader in which I had the privilege to cover him, Kameny excelled as a news source in more stories than I can count. Thank you, Frank. You’ll be sorely missed.
Virginia
Va. court allows conversion therapy despite law banning it
Judge in June 30 ruling cited religious freedom.
In 2020, the state of Virginia had banned the practice of conversion therapy, but on Monday, a county judge ruled the ban violates the Virginia Constitution and Religious Freedom Restoration Act, allowing the therapy to start once more.
The conversion therapy ban, which can be seen in Va. Code § 54.1-2409.5 and 18VAC115-20-130.14, was overturned on June 30 as a result of two Christian counselors who argued that their — and all Virginia parents’ — constitutional right to freedom of religion had been encroached upon when the state legislature passed the ban.
A Henrico County Circuit Court judge sided with John and Janet Raymond, two Christian counselors represented by the Founding Freedoms Law Center, a conservative organization founded in 2020 following Virginia’s conversion therapy ban. Virginia’s Office of the Attorney General entered a consent decree with FFLC, saying state officials will not discipline counselors who engage in talk conversion therapy.
Conversion therapy, as the legislation described it, is considered to be “any practice or treatment that seeks to change an individual’s sexual orientation or gender identity, including efforts to change behaviors or gender expressions or to eliminate or reduce sexual or romantic attractions or feelings toward individuals of the same gender.” The ban’s reversal will now allow parents to subject their children to these practices to make them align better with their religion.
This decision comes despite advice and concern from many medical and pediatric organizations — including the American Psychiatric Association, American Psychological Association, American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy, and the American Counseling Association, to name a few — all of which denounce conversion therapy as dangerous and harmful to those subjected to it.
The American Medical Association, the largest and only national association that convenes more than 190 state and specialty medical societies, says that “these techniques are the assumption that any non-heterosexual, non-cisgender identities are mental disorders, and that sexual orientation and gender identity can and should be changed. This assumption is not based on medical and scientific evidence,” with attached data indicating people subjected to conversion therapy are more likely to develop “significant long-term harm” as a result of the therapy.
The AMA goes as far as to say that they outright “oppose the use of reparative or conversion therapy for sexual orientation or gender identity.”
FFLC has a clear goal of promoting — if not requiring — conservative ideology under the guise of religious freedom in the Virginia General Assembly. On their website, the FFLC argues that some progressive policies passed by the Assembly, like that of freedom from conversion therapy, are a violation of some Virginians’ “God-given foundational freedoms.”
The FFLC has argued that when conservative notions are not abided by in state law — especially when it involves “God’s design for male and female, the nuclear family, and parental rights” — that the law violates Virginians’ religious freedom.
A statement on the FFLC’s website calls gender dysphoria among children a “contagion” and upholds “faith-based insights” from counselors as equal — in the eyes of the law — to those who use medical-based insights. This, once again, is despite overwhelming medical evidence that indicates conversion therapy is harmful.
One study showed that 77 percent of those who received “sexual orientation change efforts,” or conversion therapy, experienced “significant harm.” This harm includes depression, anxiety, lowered self-esteem, and internalized homophobia. In addition, the study found that young LGBTQ adults with high levels of parental or caregiver rejection are “8.4 times more likely to report having attempted suicide,” with another study finding that “nearly 30 percent of individuals who underwent SOCE reported suicidal attempts.”
Virginia Senate Majority Leader Scott Surovell, a Democrat representing Fairfax, said that the overturning of the ban on religious merit disregards the entire concept of having professionally licensed counselors.
“I have no problem if somebody wants to go look at religious counseling from their priest or their minister, their rabbi, their imam — that’s perfectly fine,” Surovell told the Virginia Mercury. “When somebody goes to get therapy from somebody licensed by the commonwealth of Virginia, there’s a different set of rules applied. You can’t just say whatever you want because you have a license. That’s why we have professional standards, that’s why we have statutes.”
District of Columbia
GenOUT Chorus offers solace, strength to LGBTQ teens
Summer camp held from June 23-27
As Pride month draws to a close and Washington begins to take down its rainbow flags and WorldPride decorations, it can be easy to confine the ideas of LGBTQ liberation to June. One historic organization in Washington has been speaking out — or singing out if you will — to ensure that LGBTQ youth are allowed to explore and be themselves every month of the year.
The Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington is one of the oldest and largest LGBTQ choruses in the world. With more than 300 members and more than 40 years in the D.C. LGBTQ community, to say it is an institution would be an understatement.
Beginning in 1981, following an inspiring performance by the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus at the Kennedy Center, a group of 18 gay men — led by a “straight” woman and friend of Washington’s gay community, Marsha Pearson — created the GMCW. Since its establishment the organization has only grown in number and relevance within the city. From hosting multiple concerts a year, international equality trips, and creating a dedicated space to “inspire equality and inclusion with musical performances and education,” the GMCW is one of the cornerstone organizations in the Washington LGBTQ community.
One of the most remarkable parts of the GMCW is its youth outreach program and choir: GenOUT. The outreach ensemble specializes in providing a space for Washington’s LGBTQ and allied youth, ages 13-18, to find their voice through song and connect that voice to community. The GenOUT program has been around since 2001, and since 2015 has provided a platform for their voices to be heard — literally — making it the first LGBTQ youth chorus in the Washington area.
The Washington Blade sat down with GenOUT Director C. Paul Heins and member Ailsa Ostovitz to discuss why GenOUT, and more specifically the GenOUT summer camp, which was held from June 23-27, has become an essential space for LGBTQ youth in the D.C. area to find their voice amid less-than-supportive administration and rising anti-LGBTQ rhetoric in the nation.
“This is my 11th season with GenOUT, and also the 11th season with Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington,” Heins said when explaining how he ended up in the director role for the self-selected, no audition required youth outreach ensemble. “I was hired in August of 2014 to start GenOUT. I spent that first fall researching other choruses, figuring out the infrastructure, promoting the chorus, and building relationships with schools, organizations, and faith communities. And then we started in January of 2015 with nine brave singers and since then, we’ve had 150+ singers from 80 or more schools in the DMV participate.”
Ailsa Ostovitz, on the other hand, being in high school had not had as much experience with choirs — yet her commitment and unwavering passion for the work she — and the other performers within GenOUT provide to each other was unmistakable.
“I’ve been a part of the course since April of 2022, and that was like seventh grade— which is wild to think about,” Ostovitz said when reflecting on how long she had been a part of GenOUT. She explained how she had begun to develop a drive for filling leadership roles within GenOUT after gaining valuable experiences and education from the organization.
“This is my first year in leadership,” she added. “The rest of the years, I kind of hung back. I really wanted to — especially last season — kind of put myself in the position of a peer and think ‘What would I want from people that are supposed to represent me to the adults? What would I want out of that?’”
And with those questions in mind, Ostovitz explained she buckled down and worked hard to get to where she is now as a member of the leadership team within the GenOUT choir.
“I spent a lot of time working with my section leader, and, looking up at him and being like, ‘What are you doing now that I can do in the future?’ And so this year, I ran for leadership,” Ostovitz said. “I got section leader, and that was cool. I’ve just spent a lot of time — most of my time in this course — learning leadership skills to kind of help me in all sorts of things in life, because I like to take control of things, and I like doing stuff.”
These leadership skills are just a handful of the things that students like Ostovitz learn while participating in the program. This year’s theme was “Make Them Hear Us!: Empowering LGBTQ+ and Allied Youth Through Music, Media, and Community,” and provided multiple opportunities for GenOUT’s members to engage with new concepts, ideas, and experiences.
From field trips to mentoring opportunities to an end-of-camp performance, it becomes clear when speaking to those familiar with the GenOUT experience: it is not your traditional summer day camp.
“The title of the camp references the anthem that GMCW has sung for many years,” Heins said. “‘Make Them Hear You’ from the musical ‘Ragtime’ encourages us to share important stories — stories that honor the fights that we’ve been fighting, the rights that we have won, affirmations that we seek for every human being, and the focus on media — specifically developing young people’s understandings of the kinds of media that they can access and use to share their voice.”
The camp offers singing and dancing lessons, creative writing exercises, LGBTQ+ history lessons, and open discussions about identity — providing an outlet for students to figure out who they want to be and find their voice.
“What this camp does, I believe, is it helps foster young people’s voices and not only encourages them to speak, but to give them the skills to speak in a way that will be heard meaningfully,” Heins added. “I have noted that youth in queer choruses like GenOUT have said that singing in a chorus allows young people to express themselves more honestly and with greater passion than other forms of expression. They’ve also said that singing with others that understand you on a very deep, profound level, makes the expression much easier and more beautiful. I think that experience is what really makes this a special opportunity for young, LGBTQ and allied people.”
Ostovitz echoed Heins’s sentiment, emphasizing that the space GenOUT provides allows her to feel empowered in ways more than by creating leadership skills that will help her later in life. GenOUT has allowed for her to see the humanity and similarities LGBTQ youth all face in a straight world.
“Joining the chorus and being in this camp, it really gives people a chance to see that every person is going through the same experience you are, on a level of finding your own identity and being confident in that,” Ostovitz said. “It really, really serves a purpose by showing there are still queer people. They’re not fizzling out — young people are queer. We want to use our voices to express what we feel and how things are affecting us, and I think that using music to do that is probably one of the most powerful ways to do that.”
In addition to allowing for internal growth and honing their singing abilities, both Ostovitz and Heins pointed out the other valuable skills students learn while in the GenOUT program. Ostovitz explicitly highlighted the mentorship program GenOUT has with GMCW, and how it has helped students like her figure out their future.
“Because we are so connected with GMCW, we run a mentorship program where, if you want to explore career, identity, whatever, we can connect you with somebody from GMCW,” Ostovitz said. “You get to spend a whole semester with a person working on your voice or your career or your what you want to do in higher education. It’s not only for things related to your queer identity, but it’s also just for life. It’s really cool.”
This year’s theme, centering around media and the many ways people can share their voice, was highlighted through the camp’s field trips to two legacy media organizations — WAMU and NBC Washington — and a discussion with staff from the Washington Blade, including Publisher Lynne Brown and International News Editor Michael K. Lavers.
“GenOUT provides a chance to get to know people from all around this area, but it also connects you to older folks, It connects you to people from the past, as well as we learn about LGBTQ history,” Heins said. “I think a camp specific thing is we want young people to understand how they can share their stories beyond just talking to their friends. There are these forms of media that are out there to share your stories, to have your voices heard, and to have a sense that these media are there for everyone. It’s not just a thing for people aged 21 and over. That was something that Lynne and Michael from the Blade were sharing with; that anyone can write in a letter to the editor. It doesn’t mean it’s going to be published, but that anyone has that opportunity. And I think that’s a great way for them to say the Blade is open to you to share your voice.”
The concept that there are people who want to, or may need to hear queer voices represented is one that is not lost on Ostovitz.
“There is something Thea says that has kind of integrated into our chorus — that someone out there needed to hear you, needed to hear your voice, needed to hear your story,” Ostovitz said. “That’s something that I kind of live by in this chorus, where I’m like, ‘I believe that there is someone out there that needed to hear this song for whatever reason, whatever it did for them. And I’m hoping to learn how much more can this chorus do for not just our little community, but how much more can it do around the world or the country — especially now.”
Living in the political center of the U.S., Ostovitz explained, has impacted how she approaches her identity, her education, and the urgency of using her voice — both as a student and as a young queer person navigating an increasingly hostile national climate.
“Being so close to the political center of the country and also a student at the same time has not been the easiest thing in the world as of late,” she said. “You’re thinking a lot about ‘Oh, I wonder if this program in my school will still exist next year,’ because a lot of the funding for physics and science programs in general has been cut. So I’m fortunate enough that Maryland has been pretty good about going against this administration. And so being in this chorus gives me a second to step back from my academics and just go somewhere for the two hours of rehearsal.”
For Ostovitz, just having those two short hours a week to focus on music — without thinking about the political climate that paints her and her choir peers as nefarious for being LGBTQ — provides solace.
“Everybody else is going through the same thing as I am, but we’re all also working towards the same goal, which is acceptance and uplifting of everybody and everyone — no matter who they are,” she said. “It kind of settles you down and grounds you. And then you just make music with people, and it’s really like a stress reducer for me.”
“Is it too trite to say that that would make people feel less alone, knowing that it’s not just a DMV thing, but that there are queer people all over?” Heins asked Ostovitz.
“No, it’s not — for sure,” Ostovitz responded. “It was a bit eye-opening.”
“A lot of us are fortunate enough to have families that support us enough to trust us and help us be passionate and mean what we do with the work that we do in this chorus — because it is optional,” Ostovitz added. “It is optional to have the courage that we have to practice and commit as much as we do, and the fact that we have a whole organization backing us on that is pretty cool.”
“We often say that we sing for those who can’t sing in a chorus like ours,” Heins said. “We sing for people who don’t have the freedom or the option to live their authentic lives. I think that’s very powerful.”
“It’s a very unique experience to be surrounded by so many people that get it,” Ostovitz said. “It’s a very joyful experience when we perform our big shows at the Lincoln Theater, being part of that production is also a very unique experience. So I think everything about this chorus is very joyfully unique.”
“I feel very proud, and I feel very inspired,” Heins said. “I feel inspired by the young voices. I feel a sense of inspiration in my own music-making, when I am able to take a piece from its very beginning all the way to the stage in a polished form. And I feel that sense of pride in knowing that I’ve helped this group of young people develop their confidence to do really amazing things.”
“GenOUT sang 22 times last year, which for any chorus is a big deal, but for a youth chorus coming from thither and yon, it is really a big deal,” Heins added. “I’m just really inspired and proud, and know that when I am in a nursing home somewhere and these folks are still out working and I know the country will be in good hands.”
Virginia
Walkinshaw wins Democratic primary in Va. 11th Congressional District
Special election winner will succeed Gerry Connolly
On Saturday, Fairfax County Supervisor James Walkinshaw won the Democratic primary for the special election that will determine who will represent Virginia’s 11th Congressional District.
The special election is being held following the death of the late Congressman Gerry Connolly, who represented the district from 2008 until 2024, when he announced his retirement, and subsequently passed away from cancer in May.
Walkinshaw is not unknown to Virginia’s 11th District — he has served on the Fairfax County Board of Supervisors since 2020 and had served as Connolly’s chief of staff from 2009 to 2019. Before he passed away, Connolly had endorsed Walkinshaw to take his place, claiming that choosing Walkinshaw to be his chief of staff was “one of the best decisions I ever made.”
The Democratic nominee has run his campaign on mitigating Trump’s “dangerous” agenda of dismantling the federal bureaucracy, which in the district is a major issue as many of the district’s residents are federal employees and contractors.
“I’m honored and humbled to have earned the Democratic nomination for the district I’ve spent my career serving,” Walkinshaw said on X. “This victory was powered by neighbors, volunteers, and supporters who believe in protecting our democracy, defending our freedoms, and delivering for working families.”
In addition to protecting federal workers, Walkinshaw has a long list of progressive priorities — some of which include creating affordable housing, reducing gun violence, expanding immigrant protections, and “advancing equality for all” by adding sexual orientation and gender identity to the Fair Housing Act.
Various democratic PACs contributed more than $2 million to Walkinshaw’s ad campaigns, much of which touted his connection to Connolly.
Walkinshaw will face Republican Stewart Whitson in the special election in September, where he is the likely favorite to win.
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