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I’m your Venus
Local poet has new anthology out
Maybe you think poetry is only for straight white men hobnobbing on Mount Olympus. If that’s your take, you haven’t met Venus Thrash, a Washington black, lesbian poet whose debut poetry collection “The Fateful Apple” is just out from the Hawkins Publishing Group.
Written with deceptive simplicity, poignancy and incisiveness, the poetry in this volume reflects on subjects ranging from Oprah to same-sex marriage to the blues singer Willie Mae Thornton.
The poems in “The Fateful Apple” “… reside in … the ‘matrix’ of the blues,” Keith D. Leonard, Ph.D., author of “Fettered Genius: the African-American Bardic Poet from Slavery to Civil Rights,” writes in the forward to the book, “the intersection of shared history, artistic techniques and sensibilities … which marks this most defining of our cultural forms.”
Thrash, 45 and the mother of a 6-year-old son, told the Blade in a telephone interview that she wrote her first poem 40 years ago.
“I was in first grade. It was a poem about my mother,” she says. “I was a hit in the school district language arts festival. In third grade, a poem I wrote about happiness was published in the school system quarterly newsletter.”
Though D.C. has been her “adopted” home for more than 20 years, Thrash’s roots are in the deep South.
“My childhood summers were in Rincon and Sylvania, Georgia,” she says. “My memory is full of ghosts.”
“I am seven/I want to be an angel/… because I have never been an angel,” Thrash writes in the poem “Angel. “I must act like a lady/… I have never acted like a lady/ … I have demanded to be called Vince.”
“I’ve never been in the closet,” Thrash, who has a master’s degree in fiction and poetry from American University, says. Early on, “I knew that there was something different about me,” she says. “I search for the word for it for years. I liked girls. I understood girls. I didn’t understand why I was the only one experiencing that.”
It was only when she grew older and read more that Thrash could “pin it down.” Now she’s out and proud. “I am what I am,” she said referencing Ralph Ellison’s iconic novel “Invisible Man.”
Her journey to this pride and self-acceptance wasn’t always easy.
“I was brought up in the southern black Baptist church. When I was young, there was this wonderful, great spirit of love and acceptance,” Thrash says. “I knew the God of my youth to be a loving God.”
But as Thrash became a teenager, this started to change.
“A new God was introduced to me who was vengeful and intolerant. I didn’t know that other God,” she says. “I had to reconcile my sexuality, my relationship to God and to the church. … I knew that the God who made me was loving and tolerant.”
“Mama has said I am her angel/Daddy loves every loud-laughing, tree-climbing part of me,” Thrash writes in “Angel.”
She credits her parents with helping her accept herself.
“They always knew I was ‘funny,’ that I was a tomboy. I never felt unwanted,” she says. “My parents had struggles growing up in the segregated South. They were strict. It wasn’t ‘Ozzie and Harriet.’ But I felt a sense of love.”
Over the years, Thrash has grown into the writer and poet she is today. At American University, she discovered her love and comfort level with academia.
“There I found that I’m like a sponge. I’m intellectually curious,” Thrash says. “I was the only student of color. But I was able to thrive there. I was so fully accepted. Even with my varied identities,I never felt rejected.”
Thrash, who was a finalist in the 2012 Jean Feldman Poetry Prize and the 2009 Arktoi Books Poetry Prize, loves teaching.
“I feel passionate about it. I love interacting with students,” she says. “Not only am I teaching in that exchange, I’m also learning. I’ve taught in diverse settings — in women’s correctional facilities and under-served high schools.”
When she writes her poetry, Thrash isn’t thinking about changing the world.
“I’m well aware of social justice issues. But, I’m writing from a place that’s ancient and unconscious,” she says. “What’s born out of that, may, with of the grace of God, have some effect on social issues.”
Though never preachy, Thrash’s poetry often offers an incisive take on social justice issues. Written before same-sex marriage was legalized in D.C., her poem “Uncivil” is a pointed, yet joyous rebuke to any government that dictates whom anyone can love.
“There will be no parchment certificate/stamped with any state’s approval/confirming we’re married or in love,” Thrash writes. “But we will jump over a brand new straw/broom, we will light candles & pour red/wine into the earth where our ancestors sleep.”
In her poem “Oprah Loves Gayle,” Thrash takes friendship out of the tabloids.
“I was disgusted was how their relationship was displayed in news cycles,” Thrash says. “People can’t believe two strong black women can be friends without being lovers. The world has always felt threatened by powerful women.”
Thrash’s poems affirm love among women. In her poem “To the Fems,” she writes, “Who would love us/short-haired,/butch women.”
“Death come/stalking early/before daylight catch her/pissy drunk, beat bloody or rocked/tender-slow in the arms/of women who/love her,” Thrash writes in “Big Mama’s Finest Hour,” a poem for blues singer Willie May Thornton.
Thrash is a vital part of the D.C. poetry scene. In 2012, she was a featured poet at Split This Rock, a biennial festival that highlights poetry and social justice.
“Venus Thrash brings her full self to her poetry …{Her} poems are lush and erotic and angry and celebratory,” Sarah Browning, Split This Rock executive director, said in an e-mail.
“It’s scary when you first read a poem aloud,” Thrash says. “Then you’re aware of what went right and what went wrong, of its emotional and political meaning.”
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Tickets on sale for chef Patrick O’Connell’s book launch event
Sept. 18 kickoff to feature José Andrés, Tom Sietsema
Acclaimed chef Patrick O’Connell is preparing to publish his new memoir, “Main, Middle & Gay” in September and he’s launching the book with an event on Sept. 18 at 6 p.m. at Lisner Auditorium featuring Chef José Andrés and former Washington Post food critic Tom Sietsema.
Tickets for the event go on sale Tuesday, July 21 at Ticketmaster; prices start at $55.
O’Connell, who’s gay, is the pioneering Michelin-starred chef and longtime proprietor of the Inn at Little Washington. He spoke with the Blade about the September event and the launch of his first memoir.
“I’ve known [Andrés and Sietsema] for more than 25 years and I have great respect for them,” O’Connell said. “I felt that it would allow us to add a different dimension rather than just have an interviewer. The chemistry will be fun and lively and unpredictable and exciting. I think we’re all different personalities and we’ll compliment each other.”
O’Connell has published cookbooks but this is his first memoir. The event will feature a short film that will highlight his work and the Inn.
“What I hope to do with the event is bring the book to life visually,” he said. “So we’re producing a short film that will be part of it. Most of the audience will not have read the book so it’ll give them a visual flavor of the book. It parallels the evolution of American cuisine over 50 years. It’s a rare perspective to be in the trenches for that long.”
The book’s title refers to the location of the garage on the corner of Main, Middle, and Gay streets in Washington, Va., where he launched his restaurant that became an international culinary destination.
The Blade will publish the rest of its wide-ranging interview with O’Connell in September in conjunction with the book’s release.
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The queer Asian comics building collective joy in D.C.
Spotlighting chaotic ways family, romance, identity take shape in their lives
Kevin Chen’s family tombstone has room for four: him, his parents and his boyfriend. The arrangement might prove to be a little awkward.
“My boyfriend is 100% white, and my parents are 100% disappointed,” Chen confessed.
Jokes about family traditions and the untraditional ways they’re practiced earned a burst of laughs at the bar where Chen was opening for the Pride Comedy Special. The D.C. stand-up event, produced by Comedy Bonfyre last month, spotlighted queer Asian comics who shared the chaotic ways family, romance and identity take shape in their lives.
From candid oral sex takes to top surgery hypotheticals like “Where do the boobs go?”, the night highlighted the loud camaraderie of the queer Asian experience — one that sounds like a cacophony of snorts, cackles and belly laughs. While the comics say they are not quite a community, there’s more than enough shared material to bring them together.
“It was such a magical experience. I loved performing in a queer API lineup. It feels so validating,” Chen said after the show. “I’m wondering, ‘Is this how white men feel all the time?’”
Each performance evoked queer Asian joy through a medium that could use more of its presence.
According to Chen, who is based in D.C., it’s hard to say whether there is a true queer Asian comedy presence in his city. There are only a scattered “handful” of Asian comics, and people of color are underrepresented in queer comic circles, he said.
When Tarunika Anand, a nonbinary lesbian comic, first entered the mainstream D.C. comedy scene, they mostly encountered straight white men, describing the experience as “a culture shock.”
“I feel like sometimes a lot of queer spaces are really white, and then a lot of Asian spaces are really straight,” Anand said. “I don’t feel like I fit into either.”
But feeling marginalized didn’t stop these comics from honing their craft and creating spaces for others like them. Alex Kim, who headlined the special and is based in Brooklyn, runs the queer Asian comedy group Boba Gays, which began on WhatsApp and has since made its way to Lincoln Center.
Every Wednesday, Anand co-produces a free comedy show called Funny Side Up. The queer-led group focuses on inclusivity and showcasing new talent.
“It’s really beautiful to speak about your experience and your existence in a way that’s uplifting,” Anand said.
Family is a major throughline of their comedic repertoires.
Chen, for instance, shared that he identifies with jokes about having Asian immigrant parents and the expectations they pass down.
“You see me, you know this part about me, you know this experience intimately, and I can see the truth that you’re trying to wrap a joke around,” he said. “That hits even harder because that’s my truth too. I think that’s what makes good comedy.”
Anand had the audience at the special howling when they explained that their parents’ be-more-like-them comparisons didn’t end when they came out. Instead, the expectations took on a new form.
“Now, my parents want me to be the best gay,” Anand said. “They’re like, ‘Do you know Ellen DeGeneres?’”
Kim said he’s been trying to unlearn things from his Christian Korean mom. Yet he described a moment when he was getting ready for the club and realized he looked just like his mother getting ready for church.
“I’ve been finding it hard to escape her,” Kim said.
Mutual recognition also radiates through the different ways queer love can take shape. From singlehood to death-do-us-part commitments, the comics cover just about every corner.
Anand is holding out hope for settling down with “a nice, pretty, Indian girl.” They recently went through a breakup and said they felt they dodged a bullet.
“As a person of color, I just don’t think I should be with a Swiftie,” they said.
Chen, touching on what it’s like to be in a queer interracial relationship, said that meeting his white boyfriend’s baby nephew for the first time felt like he was forced to participate in a diversity, equity and inclusion training.
“The dad was like, ‘Please welcome Kevin. Be curious about his culture, his history, his foods,’” Chen joked.
Laughter is not the only reward for the comics.
To Anand, comedy is a space where they can say whatever they want. “It gives me a voice,” they said.
Nik Narain, a North Carolina-based trans and nonbinary South Asian comic who performed at the special, said meeting older trans comedians and taking the stage helped him feel reassured in his identity during his transition.
“Stand-up was a really cool way to process that onstage,” he said. “[It] became a way for me to repackage my thoughts.”
Queer Asians are still figuring out their place in the greater D.C. comedy scene. The group is small in numbers and many are still working toward a full-time comedy career. But Narain feels he’s already made it.
Narain is reluctant to pin it all on one moment. He feels that success is already peeking through in milestones — opening for celebrities, traveling to performances and self-producing shows.
“As long as I can keep doing this, I’m super happy,” he said.
This story was produced as part of the AAJA VOICES fellowship program, a student journalism project of the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA).
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Mr. Henry’s celebrates 60 years of proud inclusivity
Capitol Hill staple remains ‘a caring community’
America’s 250th isn’t the only milestone birthday D.C. is celebrating this year.
Beloved D.C. restaurant Mr. Henry’s, that Capitol Hill staple, celebrates its Diamond Jubilee all year long. Named for its original owner Henry Yaffe, the restaurant opened on a warm day 60 years ago in the summer of 1966 and has never looked back.
Yaffe took over what was then a country western restaurant, renovated the interior to his liking, and created an institution. Yet Yaffe had another goal. As a gay man, “he created Mr. Henry’s to be a place where everyone felt welcome — not easy in 1966 — and he succeeded,” says current owner Mary Quillian.
“Mr. Henry’s has long been a place the LGBTQ community has supported because they felt and still feel welcomed,” says Quillian. Even in the current administration, “the gay community and the diversity-minded community continue to come.”
Since then, Mr. Henry’s has changed hands, opened and closed its second floor, welcomed famed musical acts, and played host to politicians, date nights, breakups, and birthdays. But it still feels like home (and has a note in the National Trust for Historic Preservation) at 601 Pennsylvania Ave., S.E.
Its wood-paneled, Victorian-inspired art-filled décor in the downstairs dining room and bar serves American pub fare for lunch and dinner daily, with brunch on weekends (and a dog-friendly patio). Upstairs, Mr. Henry’s hosts live jazz performances and special events most nights, continuing a musical tradition that has defined the venue for decades. That upstairs bar has played host to names like Roberta Flack and Woody Allen.
Musician Kevin Cordt said that, “Mr. Henry’s has been a part of my life for more than 30 years. I started as a customer, then became a bartender and server, and now I have the good fortune to play trumpet at one of the best live music venues in Washington, D.C.”
Aaron Myers, executive director of the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities, is also a supporter. “Not many cities can sport venues that have consistently served the community in the space of culture for more than 50 years, let alone can brag as the birthplace of culture defining talent.”
From the start, Yaffe promoted a rare yet celebrated combination of locals’ bar and soulful nightlife venue. Mr. Henry’s has attracted a diverse crowd at a time when such spaces were – and perhaps still are – uncommon, a diversity that is credited with helping protect the pub during the 1968 D.C. riots.
Longtime customer Evelyn Branic said, “Mr. Henry’s has been my ‘Cheers’ hangout since my wife and I moved to the Hill in 1987. I’ve experienced many iconic moments meeting politicians, reporters, civic activists, and neighbors engaging in spirited conversations. Whether political, LGBTQ, historians, neighbors, or out-of-towners, everyone could find a special place to be greeted as a friend.”
Its welcoming tables come dabbed with a bit of tea: In 1971, in a moment that has since become part of Capitol Hill lore, Yaffe lost the pub in a poker game to Larry Quillian. The Quillian family, recognizing the special role Mr. Henry’s played in the neighborhood, took over ownership, and committed to preserving its spirit. Today, Larry’s daughter Mary owns the bar, having given it a bit of a facelift for the bar’s 50th birthday, bringing in new tables and some fresh menu items.
For example, the menu has some of those dishes that regulars would riot if they disappeared. The Reuben and the hamburgers, the chili and in-house roasted turkey have never departed the menu. Dishes do evolve, says Quillen: they added wings about two decades ago.
In 2026, the restaurant is hosting monthly ticketed “decades” parties, celebrating each of the 10-year periods the restaurant’s been open, plus there were specials in June for Pride. The official 60th anniversary gala takes place Aug. 29, featuring performers, beverages, timeless favorite foods, swag – and the unveiling of a new cocktail.
Inclusive, eccentric, eclectic, Mr. Henry’s is looking forward to maintaining its centrality to diverse crowds in Capitol Hill. Battling inflation, rising menu prices, changing tastes, and thin margins, Quillian says that Mr. Henry’s has — and will always be — “a caring community for so many different folks. And THAT is why I am committed to keeping us going. Society needs places like Mr. Henry’s, now more than ever.”
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Comings & Goings
