Pride month was first celebrated in June 1970, one year after the Stonewall Riots of 1969. Pride month commemorates the Stonewall Riots, which occurred on June 28, 1969, at the Stonewall Inn in New York City’s Greenwich Village. The first organized Pride marches were held on June 28, 1970, in New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, marking the first anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. 

In June 2000, President Bill Clinton officially designated June as Gay and Lesbian Pride Month, and in 2009, President Barack Obama updated the designation to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month, recognizing the contributions and struggles of the LGBTQ community. We have fought a long time to be able to be open and out. Activists since Stonewall have fought so we can live with the promise of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” as promised in the Declaration of Independence. We just want to be recognized, and accepted, for who we were born as, or for who we are. 

For me, and so many others, Pride is not only something we celebrate for the month of June, but we celebrate it all year long, for our whole lives. I am not denigrating the month of June celebrations. They are important, and bring visibility to our community. The diversity represented in D.C. Pride is wonderful. There is Trans Pride, Black Pride, youth Pride, among other events. We all have one thing in common, and just want to live our lives in peace. We want to enjoy our families, the ones we were born into, and those we choose. We want a good job, good friends, and good health, like everyone else. But because we are still seen as ‘different’ by so many, we have had to fight for our rights, and ask the government to grant them. When marriage laws were first promulgated, they didn’t include us, we had to fight for marriage equality. When healthcare is given to everyone, it was denied to trans people, and we have to fight for the government’s approval. When government gave the right to others for jobs, and housing, we were often denied. We still have no guarantees for either in 27 states. These fights go on. 

I recognize we were not the only ones who had to fight for our rights. This country was founded by white Christian men, and they didn’t offer the rights they guaranteed themselves, to anyone else. They discriminated against women, Black people, and so many others, as they have discriminated against the LGBTQ community. So, we all had to fight for our rights, and today, are all still fighting for them.

While they did not mention religion, it was mentioned in the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment, which states: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” This clause has been interpreted to mean the government cannot favor one religion over another, or establish a national religion, thereby ensuring a degree of separation between religious institutions and government.

It is sick, very sick, that today, we are faced with a lying felon in the White House, who once again is sanctioning discrimination against every group that is not white, Christian men. Through his attack on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, he has set the fight for equality for all back a couple of hundred years. Nowhere can it be seen more clearly than in the Department of Defense where his stooge, Pete Hegseth, is trying to fire, and in any way he can, rid the military of women, Black service members, and members of the LGBTQ community. He is doing it so blatantly no one can deny it is happening. The felon is doing this across the government, and coercing those in the private sector to do the same.

So, in the month of June, here in D.C., in the home of our federal government, and in front of the people’s house, the White House, we in the LGBTQ community are all out. We share our parade, our festival, our parties, our experiences, our friends and lovers, husbands and wives, in public. We do so, and demand, that we can do it all year long, without being afraid. We do it so those who have yet to come out — young people maybe living in rural Virginia, or rural Maryland, those who still feel unsafe coming out — know there is a large community here who will welcome them with open arms and who will support them if their families and community don’t. We do it so they see they have heroes to emulate and can have a positive vision of their future. 

So, we celebrate Pride in June, so we can celebrate our pride in who we are, all year long. 

Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.

I’m a gay man, I’m a graduate student, here is why I’m afraid of what the Trump administration is doing with the Office of Civil Rights.

I consider myself lucky to have grown up as a gay man in the time that I did. As a millennial, I came of age at the tail end of when it was still almost entirely socially unacceptable to be gay. That decision, 17 years ago, has defined much of my life since. While it is nowhere near perfect, I am mostly happy with the current times as a gay man, though I often lament for how my trans brothers and sisters are treated. 

That’s why I’m so terrified with some of the moves the Trump administration has made, especially most recently with its rescission of Title IX provisions. Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 is a landmark civil rights law that prevents any school or education program from discriminating on the basis of sex if they receive federal funding. It is a funding pact that effectively remodeled the American education landscape, providing equal opportunity for male and female athletes, outlawing discriminatory admissions practices, ensuring pregnant people have accommodations on campuses, and finally compelling schools to address and investigate sexual assault or harrassment in schools. In short, Title IX exists to create gender and sex based equity primarily in schools that receive federal funding; schools found to have been routinely violating this pact are subject to penalties, including even losing federal funding. 

Recently, K-12 Dive reported that the Department of Education rescinded the Title IX provisions that established anti-discrimination protections for LGBTQ+ students. In principle, the provisions barred discrimination against LGBTQ+ students in educational facilities that receive federal funding. Going by the Department’s public statements, Education Secretary Linda McMahon believes that these provisions, which were advanced by the past two Democratic administrations “distorted the law to police discrimination on the basis of ‘gender identity.’” 

Essentially, the Trump administration is signaling its inclination to withhold student loans, the lifeblood of higher education finance, from schools that don’t make life miserable for trans students. The administration’s desire to turn back the clock is a real slap in the face of my community, and the activists who fought fiercely for acceptance, protection, and the recognition of gay rights. Beyond the usual anti-queer, right wing slop, this is an indicator that the administration is fundamentally trying to erase the queer identity. This will have unequivocally bleak effects on queer youth.

A bit of background might help. In 2019, the Supreme Court made a landmark employment law ruling in Bostock v Clayton County, which held that Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 protects employees against discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity. The plain text of Title VII only protects against discrimination on the basis of “sex,” but in Bostock, the court found that to be a gay employee requires first being a man, and to be a lesbian employee requires first being a woman. Likewise, to be discriminated against for trans or non-binary identity is to be discriminated against because your gender identity does not match your birth sex. Thus, the court held that workplace discrimination against LGBTQ identities are necessarily forms of sex discrimination, so protections for LGBTQ+ people in the workplace should be read into Title VII’s existing language.

This landmark decision was one of the biggest victories for advocates for LGBTQ employees in more than 50 years. Trump appointee Justice Neil Gorsuch even wrote for the majority that “an employer who fires an individual merely for being gay or transgender defies the law,” showing how patently unfair the state of LGBTQ employment was prior to the ruling. Personally, I have navigated so many spaces in fear of what could happen to me if anyone found out that I’m gay, but since Bostock, I’ve been so much more at ease. 

But Bostock only considered Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, the section that prohibits discrimination in employment. It didn’t consider Title IX, which prohibits discrimination at colleges and universities that receive federal funding, even though both Title VII and Title IX are parts of the same statute. As a result, Bostock only prohibited homophobia and transphobia in employment practices, not on college campuses.

Early in his administration, President Joe Biden signed an executive order in hopes of rectifying that limitation. He directed heads of federal agencies to review workforce actions to ensure that departments were complying with the Bostock rule – essentially, even though Bostock only requires anti-discrimination protections for LGBTQ people in employment, Biden established a national policy of voluntarily extending the same anti-discrimination protections into other parts of American life governed by the Civil Rights Act. 

As part of that effort, the Department of Justice issued a memorandum instructing federal agencies to apply Bostock to both Title VII and Title IX (the latter of course is enforced by the Office of Civil Rights in the Education Department). Later, in 2024, the Department of Education amended Title IX regulations to explicitly protect LGBTQ people from discrimination in federally funded buildings (most obviously schools). 

The result of all these legal technicalities is that under the Biden rules, OCR must protect trans students who want to use the bathroom of their choice; a gay student cannot be discriminated against for being gay; and most importantly, a student cannot be rejected from a school, or expelled, for simply being who they are.

This small change is actually revolutionary for LGBTQ+ students. Beyond the fact that the second leading cause of death among LGBTQ youth is suicide, queer kids are twice as likely to be called names, verbally harassed, or physically assaulted. This often leads to increased substance abuse, self-harm, chronic absenteeism, and poor academic performance. With younger people coming out earlier than ever, it is critically important that we ensure we are protecting our queer youth. 

The administration wants society to backslide. They want these kids to face discrimination. Never mind that one of Trump’s own Supreme Court picks wrote the majority opinion in Bostock, he and his cronies think it is perfectly fine for LGBTQ students to face harassment because they (falsely) claim the Biden administration had a warped interpretation ofBostock. After all, this is the same administration that cut funding to the 988 suicide hotline, banned trans people from serving in the military, and systematically weaponizes federal law against trans people across the country. 

Republican-led states are clearly treating this as an opportunity to declare war on queer students as well. In May, South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster signed the Student Physical Privacy Act which mandates “multi-person facilities be designated for use by one sex at a time, defined by biological sex at birth. It also requires schools and colleges to provide single-user restrooms or changing spaces for students who request them.” In practice, trans students in South Carolina are basically relegated to port-a-potties. State Sen. Jason Elliot of Green said, “[T]he bill would allow the use of a portable restroom facility, if necessary, to meet that need [for a trans student]. So it’s not going to be an overly burdensome financial responsibility on K-12 schools or colleges or universities.” Rather than address the Palmetto state’s biggest actual policy issues like cost of living, health care accessibility, poor response to extreme weather events, dependency on tourism and a state graduation rate of less than 85%, they choose to attack trans kids, which again will only exacerbate the latter of these problems.

As a gay man, I find this troubling and deeply demoralizing. The second Trump administration is doing everything in its power to harm an already deeply marginalized community. Sending signals to state governments as well means Americans are rolling back the years to a time in which young LGBTQ people were fearful to be who they are. It’s the younger generations who are going to feel the immediate effects of these policies – even if a future Democratic administration reinstates the Biden-era policies, you only get the four years of high school or college once. If your time as a young person coincides with this administration and its bigotry, that can leave an indelible mark on your life and understanding of yourself in this country. 

Am I protected as an adult? Well, yes, but as an educational policy wonk and gay man, I fear for younger queer people who just want to live authentically. The next Democratic administration must make reversing these changes to Title IX a priority. Any Democrat who claims to care about queer people, must ensure that these students are protected. 

Chris Lewis is deputy research director of the Revolving Door Project.

Religion and spirituality continue to shape the lives of billions of people around the world. Whether expressed through organized faith traditions, personal beliefs, cultural practices, or philosophical reflection, they remain powerful influences on how people understand themselves, others, and the world around them.

As a displaced person, I have seen firsthand how religion and spirituality affect people’s lives during times of uncertainty, hardship, and hope. In communities facing displacement, poverty, illness, conflict, and long waits for resettlement opportunities, questions about meaning, purpose, resilience, and belonging are not abstract concepts. They are part of everyday survival.

Religion and spirituality are often discussed together, yet they are not identical. Religion generally involves organized systems of belief, sacred texts, rituals, and communities. Spirituality is often more personal and may involve an individual’s search for meaning, connection, and inner peace without necessarily belonging to a specific faith tradition.

Despite their differences, both seek to answer some of humanity’s oldest questions: Why are we here? How should we live? How do we cope with suffering? What gives life meaning?

A search shared across cultures

Human beings have always searched for answers to the mysteries of existence. Across continents and throughout history, people have developed different ways of understanding life, death, nature, and the universe.

Christians may turn to the Bible. Muslims may seek guidance from the Quran. Jews may draw wisdom from the Torah. Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, Indigenous peoples, and many others have their own spiritual traditions and teachings.

Recently, an Australian reader, Eveline Goy, shared a thoughtful reflection after reading one of my earlier articles. She noted that while some people may speak of “false prophets” based on their religious beliefs, others may find truth and wisdom in entirely different traditions. She also highlighted the rich spiritual heritage of Australia’s First Nations peoples, whose stories of the Rainbow Serpent continue to shape cultural identity and understanding of creation.

Her reflection reminded me that while beliefs vary widely, the desire to understand our place in the universe appears to be deeply human.

Religion, love, and LGBTQ people

For many LGBTQI+ people, religion can be both a source of comfort and a source of pain.

Throughout history, faith communities have offered people hope, belonging, and moral guidance. Yet many LGBTQI+ individuals have also experienced rejection, exclusion, or condemnation from religious institutions because of their sexual orientation or gender identity.

As a queer refugee, I know how deeply these experiences can affect a person’s sense of self-worth and belonging. Many LGBTQI+ refugees I work with were not only rejected by society but also by families and faith communities they once trusted. Some were told they were sinful, broken, or unworthy of love. Others were forced to hide their identities in order to remain accepted.

Yet this is not the whole story.

Across the world, there are also religious leaders, churches, mosques, synagogues, temples, and faith communities that embrace LGBTQI+ people and affirm their dignity. Many believers interpret their faith through the values of compassion, justice, mercy, and love rather than exclusion.

At its heart, love is one of the most universal values found across spiritual traditions. Whether expressed through faith, friendship, family, or community, love has the power to heal wounds, build bridges, and restore dignity.

For many LGBTQI+ people, the challenge is not choosing between faith and identity but finding spaces where both can coexist.

Religion and spirituality in difficult times

We live in a world facing numerous challenges. Wars continue across several regions. Climate change affects communities through droughts, floods, and extreme weather events. Economic uncertainty impacts millions of families. Refugees and displaced people face uncertain futures.

In such circumstances, many people turn to religion or spirituality for comfort and guidance.

Here in Gorom Refugee Settlement Camp, I see this every day. Some gather for prayer. Others find strength in sacred texts. Some find comfort in collective worship, while others seek peace through personal reflection and meditation.

For many, faith provides hope when circumstances seem hopeless.

Yet I have also observed something equally important. Not everyone draws strength from religion. Some find resilience through friendship, mutual support, activism, creativity, and the determination to keep moving forward despite adversity.

This reminds us that while religion and spirituality can be sources of strength, so too can our shared humanity.

The human values that unite us

One of the most remarkable aspects of religion and spirituality is that despite their differences, many traditions promote similar values: Compassion, kindness, forgiveness, generosity, honesty, and respect for others.

These values are not exclusive to any single religion or philosophy. They appear across cultures, faiths, and secular worldviews.

Living in a refugee community has reinforced this lesson. Some of the most generous people I have met are deeply religious. Others are not religious at all. What matters most is not necessarily what people believe, but how they treat one another.

When someone shares food with a hungry neighbor, that is compassion.

When a person comforts a frightened child, that is humanity.

When communities stand together despite differences, that is solidarity.

These actions often speak louder than doctrine.

Building bridges in a diverse world

Religion and spirituality have inspired extraordinary acts of kindness throughout history. Yet they have also contributed to division when people become convinced that only their own beliefs are valid.

In today’s interconnected world, we encounter a greater diversity of perspectives than ever before. This diversity can enrich societies, but it also requires humility, curiosity, and respect.

No individual, community, or tradition possesses all the answers to life’s mysteries.

The challenge is not to eliminate differences but to learn how to coexist peacefully despite them.

For LGBTQI+ people, refugees, people of faith, and those without religious beliefs, dialogue and mutual respect remain essential. We all benefit when societies create space for people to live authentically while respecting the dignity of others.

Religion and spirituality continue to play important roles in human life. They help many people find meaning, resilience, comfort, and community during difficult times.

At the same time, the values that often matter most compassion, dignity, kindness, justice, and love are not confined to any single religion or belief system.

My experiences as a queer refugee have shown me that hope can emerge from many places. Some find it in prayer. Some find it in philosophy. Some find it in activism. Some find it in human connection.

Perhaps what ultimately matters is not which path we follow, but whether that path encourages us to become more compassionate, understanding, and caring human beings.

In an uncertain world marked by division and conflict, our shared humanity may be the strongest foundation upon which we can build a more peaceful, inclusive, and loving future for LGBTQI+ people, for people of faith, and for all humanity.

Aby lives in the Gorom Refugee Settlement Camp in South Sudan.