Arts & Entertainment
Queery: John Moletress
The theater visionary answers 20 gay questions
Local theater regulars know former actor John Moletress’s name. But like many creative types, he’s grown restless and is pursuing new artistic vistas. Last summer he started force/collision, an interdisciplinary performance ensemble based in Washington. It kicked off with a piece called “Collapsing Silence” at the Source Theatre. Next month his company will unveil “The Nautical Yards,” a 60-minute site-specific show at the Washington Navy Yard that will tell of two lovers separated by war and sea.
“I think it’s important that we create a large script between the arts and work more holistically,” the 34-year-old Pottsgrove, Pa., native says. “I’ve worked in traditional theater forms, been in lots of plays and musicals, but when we band together it opens up the door to explore different forums and takes us into the next generation of making art together.”
Moletress says some of the traditional forms feel somewhat exhausted to him.
“When you run out of a way to tell a story by speaking it, I think there are other ways to do it,” he says. “Like with dance … when you run out of words, there’s a certain collective memory our body has that we can share with movement. Our bodies become storehouses for our memories.”
Moletress studied acting in college, both in Allentown, Pa., and during graduate school at the University of Tennessee. He spent two years in London in the ‘90s studying acting and modern dance and worked in regional theaters around New York City where he lived in the early ‘00s. He came to Washington in 2008 after two years working as an artistic director at a company in Pennsylvania. In 2009, he started Factory 449, a Helen Hayes-winning project from which he’s since parted ways. Force/collision (force-collision.org) was started with a grant he got through Source Theatre.
Moletress lives in D.C.’s Navy Yard area and enjoys reading — “I have hundreds of books in my apartment” — and decoupage in his free time. (Photo courtesy Moletress)
How long have you been out and who was the hardest person to tell?
Pretty much since high school. Before the Grindr phenomena, we had AOL chat rooms. It was a fun little platform for meeting other high school guys who were for the most part, not out. I can’ t say I really made the choice to come out, so much as outed myself with a crumpled up page ripped from an International Male catalogue I left in my pants pocket. My mother was doing laundry that day. I don’t think she was really surprised, given that my early obsessions included Cheryl Tiegs workout videos and musical theater.
Who’s your LGBT hero?
Christopher Isherwood.
What’s Washington’s best nightspot, past or present?
Does my couch count? Honestly, wherever my friends are. I adore them.
Describe your dream wedding.
No, thank you. Although if I ever found myself wearing a white dress, I’d most likely be standing on a cliff somewhere on the Galway coast of Ireland, contemplating two choices.
What non-LGBT issue are you most passionate about?
Genocide and reconciliation. My friend, Erik Ehn, is a playwright who founded an annual conference to investigate theatre on this subject. He writes about collective trauma. I’ll be directing the premiere of his new play “Shape” which infuses the stories of blacks in 1900 Ambrose Park with the 1921 Tulsa Race Riot.
What historical outcome would you change?
This is a challenging question. I believe we are where and who we are because of our histories. I would negotiate peace and dialogue before violence.
What’s been the most memorable pop culture moment of your lifetime?
Manic Panic hair dye and Siouxsie Sioux on high school Sundays with like-minded outcasts.
On what do you insist?
Pausing and breathing. Oh, and Diet Pepsi.
What was your last Facebook post or Tweet?
@soulographiedesignmeetings at The New Schoolpic.twitter.com
If your life were a book, what would the title be?
I’d have to look to Jackie Collins for inspiration. Perhaps, “The World Is Full of Married Men” or “Lady Boss.”
If science discovered a way to change sexual orientation, what would you do?
Either run screaming or mount Tom Brady.
What do you believe in beyond the physical world?
Connectivity. Universal law. Energy and frequency. Love.
What’s your advice for LGBT movement leaders?
Persevere. Trust your instincts. If one door closes, open another.
What would you walk across hot coals for?
My friends. To have seen Velvet Underground perform live.
What LGBT stereotype annoys you most?
I’m sure I pretty much fit all of them at one point or another. However, I wish we could all be more open to the possibilities of gender duality. Regardless of whether people think I swing more toward my feminine or my masculine side, nothing turns me off more than men who state they are “straight acting” when they like to play leap frog with other men.
What’ s your favorite LGBT movie?
“Mommie Dearest.” The gay man’ s guide to opera acting and OCD.
What’s the most overrated social custom?
Utensils.
What trophy or prize do you most covet?
Bjork’s Polar Music Prize. I wish I could be as brilliant as her.
What do you wish you’d known at 18?
That I was going to live past 25. I certainly didn’t behave that way.
Why Washington?
I’m attracted to the sizzle of American politics. The Hill staffers are cute, too. I dated one for a while. Moreover, this IS a theater town and the resources here for my profession are overwhelming. Source Theatre/Cultural Development Corporation has played an integral part in getting my work seen. I owe a lot to them, especially Jenny McConnell Frederick.
Just as humans have always had meals, queer humans, too, have enjoyed meals. Yet what is it that makes “queer food” distinct?
At the beginning of May in Montreal, the Queer Food Conference 2026 sought not to answer that question, but to further interrogate it. The conference united scholars, activists, artists, journalists, farmers, chefs, and other food industry professionals for three days of panels, workshops, discussions, and, yes, meals, in an inclusive, thoughtful, contemplative-yet-whimsical environment, taking a comprehensive view of the landscape of queer food.
The two organizers – Professor Alex Ketchum, at the Institute for Gender, Sexuality, and Feminist Studies of McGill University in Montreal, and Professor Megan Elias, Director of Food Studies & Gastronomy at Boston University – met in 2022 when Elias acted as a peer reviewer for Ketchum’s second book, “Ingredients for a Revolution,” a wide-ranging history of more than 230 feminist and lesbian-feminist restaurants, cafes, and coffeehouses from 1972 to the present in the US.
Elias, taken by the book and its exploration, invited Ketchum to speak at one of Elias’s courses, at which pastries were served and feminist bread making was baked into conversation. Elias floated the idea of co-organizing a queer food conference – and a hot 24 hours later, Ketchum said yes, with plans sketched out, from grants to topics to speakers. In parallel, the duo started to conceptualize “Queers at the Table,” a book based on their work (published last year).
The conference, the book, the research: their work is, in part, grounded in the question: What is queer food? True to queer theory, each has her own nuanced response as drivers of their research, challenging the traditional and looking beyond norms of food studies. Ketchum’s view is that it is grounded on food by and for the queer community, in specific histories, and especially in the labor behind the food. Elias posits that queer food is at the intersection of queerness and culinary studies, beyond gender norms and binaries, back to the societal basics of queer food as part of queer humans always having meals. “Queer food destabilizes assumptions about food, gender and sexuality, making space for a wider range of relationships to food,” she says.
The academics’ professed enthusiasm, however, rarely reached beyond small circles.
“I regularly attended big food studies conferences, but almost never saw presentations about gender identity beyond women’s roles,” says Elias about her prior work, and when her students would ask for additional literature about sexuality and food, results had been sparse. Ketchum echoed this gap: When she was in graduate studies, she received hesitation from leadership about her chosen field of study. By 2024, however, queer food as an area of study and practice had grown, whether in popular culture or well as in publishing, setting the stage for the first Queer Food Conference in 2024 in Boston. Their aim at that even was to launch the subfield of queer food studies into the mainstream, so that fellow academics, students, and those interested in the space could convene, “creating space for others to build,” says Ketchum. “People were enthusiastic.”
Once Ketchum and Elias published “Queers at the Table” in 2025 (notably, gay author John Birdsall also published a book examining queer identity through food last year, “What Is Queer Food?”), they laid the foundation for the 2026 conference in Montreal. This edition was an “embodied” conference, inclusive of various ontologies in queer food studies: theory, labor, art, taste, an interdisciplinary, expansive grounding.
Topics ranged from cookbooks and influencers to farming and land movements, bars and cafes, brewing and baking, history and sociology, writing and printmaking, healthcare and community, and centering marginalized – especially trans – voices.
Naturally, food was centered. The conference’s keynotes were not academics, but the chefs themselves who created the food with their own hands that attendees ate over the three days. “Not to disregard a pure academic space,” says Ketchum, “but to not have food in a room when we talk about food would be wild.”
Jackson Tucker, a Distinguished Graduate Fellow at the University of Delaware, said that “What I found [at the conference] was a genuinely diverse gathering: scholars who did grounded social research but also practitioners, organizers, and people who had never thought about an academic conference in their lives and didn’t need to. That mix is the soul of this whole project for me. Without the people who are out in the world doing queer food, the conference wouldn’t exist.”
Ketchum – her home being Montreal – also worked to fold in community-driven events so that attendees could get a taste of queer food in the city outside of classroom walls; for example, attendees participated in a collaborative evening pizza-making class at a queer-owned pizzeria.
The interdisciplinary nature of the conference led to sharing of research, thoughts, activities, and planning. There was a “value of bringing people together of different backgrounds, which leads to richer discussion,” she says.
Elias picked up on this theme: “I saw people bonding and connecting and believing in Queer Food Studies,” – one of the central goals that Ketchum noted, further legitimizing a nascent field. As both professors continue their research and leadership, they envision a continued layering of centering the queer experience and community through the shared value and study of food.
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Gay Men’s Chorus celebrates 45 years at annual gala
‘Sapphire & Sparkle’ Spring Affair held at the Ritz Carlton
The Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington held the annual Spring Affair gala at the Ritz Carlton Washington, D.C. on Saturday. The theme for this year’s fete was “Sapphire & Sparkle.” The chorus celebrated 45 years in D.C. with musical performances, food, entertainment, and an awards ceremony.
Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington Executive Director Justin Fyala and Artistic Director Thea Kano gave welcoming speeches. Opening remarks were delivered by Spring Affair co-chairs Tracy Barlow and Tomeika Bowden. Uproariously funny comedian Murray Hill performed a stand-up set and served as the emcee.
There were performances by Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington groups Potomac Fever, 17th Street Dance, the Rock Creek Singers, Seasons of Love, and the GenOUT Youth Chorus.

Anjali Murthy, a member of the chorus and a graduate of the GenOUT Youth Chorus, addressed the attendees of the gala.
“The LGBTQ+ community isn’t bound by blood ties: we are brought together by shared experience,” Murthy said. “Being Gen Z, I grew up with Ellen [DeGeneres] telling me through the TV screen that it gets better: that one day, it’ll all be okay. The sentiment isn’t wrong, but it’s passive. What I’ve learned from GMCW is that our future is something we practice together. It exists because people like you continue to show up for it, to believe in the possibilities of what we’re still becoming”
The event concluded with the presentation of the annual Harmony Awards. This year’s awardees included local drag artist and activist Tara Hoot, the human rights organization Rainbow Railroad as well as Rocky Mountain Arts Association Executive Director, Dr. Chipper Dean.
(Washington Blade photos and videos by Michael Key)































Equality Prince William Pride was held at the Harris Pavilion in Manassas, Va. on Saturday, May 16.
(Washington Blade photos by Landon Shackelford)
















