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Orlando bursts our bubble of complacency

‘We must love one another or die’

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Orlando, gay news, Washington Blade, Pulse nightclub
Pulse nightclub, Orlando, gay news, Washington Blade

A large American flag has been placed behind the picture of a gay couple who died inside the Pulse Nightclub at a growing memorial in downtown Orlando, Fla. (Washington Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

On June 9, as I pondered what I wanted to have for dinner, my brother called me. “We should talk whenever we can,” he said, “you never know. You could go out and a terrorist could shoot you. For no reason – out of hate.”

I didn’t know how true his words were until I looked at my iPad at 2:25 a.m. on June 12.  When I learned of the massacre of LGBT people at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando, Fla., during LGBT Pride month by Omar Mateen, a hate-filled, “self-radicalized” gunman. (ISIS, the radical Islamic “state,” offered praise for the shooting.)

I’m a wordsmith.  But, as is the case for everyone I’ve spoken to, queer or hetero, since this horrific event, words fail. What can be said in the face of unimaginable hatred and horror? Mere language isn’t enough to convey such sorrow. Forty-nine LGBT people (some only in their 20s) were killed and 53 others injured (some critically) in an act of terrorism, a hate crime – or in an unfathomable, twisted combo of terror and hate. What were they doing? Nothing that straight folks haven’t done for eons – dancing, having a few drinks – cutting loose on a Saturday night.  They were openly being themselves at the Pulse, a safe space in the LGBT community, until the shooting (the worst mass shooting in United States history) began.

Like many of us who are queer, I’ve become too optimistic, even a bit complacent, since the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in favor of marriage equality on June 26, 2015. I spend my life in the D.C. area, or when I travel, in New York City, New Haven, Conn. or Northeast corridor cities.  I’ve attended my queer friends’ weddings, daydreamed about magically finding Ms. Right, cheered rainbow flags flying at the White House, and marveled at my 20-something friends who think that our country having an openly gay Secretary of the Army for the first time is no big deal.

The Orlando massacre burst my bubble of complacency. The unspeakably horrifying event reconnected me with my LGBT roots and queer history. I remember June 28, 1969, the beginning of the modern gay rights movement, when brave LGBT patrons fought back against police raiding the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in Greenwich Village. As a teenager in Southern New Jersey at that time, I knew (at some level) that I liked girls, but kept my sexuality hidden from my family, friends – even myself. Because to be openly queer back then meant risking being beaten up or (as happened to a family friend’s son) arrested.

During the height of the AIDS epidemic, many of my gay friends were often scorned. One friend was spat on as he stood on the subway. Another was roughed up on his way home from a bar for looking too much like “a faggot.”

Today, transgender people often face bigotry and violence as they, like the rest of us too frequently take for granted, go to work, to school — or simply dare to go to the bathroom.

This isn’t to say that during this Pride season, there isn’t much to rejoice in. There are openly queer elected officials, clergy, athletes and TV news anchors. LGBT parents are having and adopting kids; straight moms and dads love their queer kids; and grandparents are coming out to supportive families. Most people, hetero or queer, are appalled by violence against LGBT people. I can’t imagine us going back in the closet. To do that would be to opt for a spiritual and emotional death.

Still, the Orlando massacre is a wake-up call. Something as lovely as a kiss could make a crazed shooter kill us.

Yet, we mustn’t give in to hatred or Islamophobia. If we, hetero and queer are to survive, love must carry the day. As gay poet W. H. Auden wrote, “we must love one another or die.”

Kathi Wolfe, a writer and a poet, is a regular contributor to the Blade.

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Candidates should pledge to nominate LGBTQ judge to Supreme Court

Presidential, Senate hopefuls need to go on the record

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U.S. Supreme Court (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

As soon as the final votes are cast and counted and verified after the November 2026 elections are over, the 2028 presidential cycle will begin in earnest. Polls, financial aid requests, and volunteer opportunities ad infinitum will flood the public and personal media. There will be more issues than candidates in both parties. The rending of garments and mudslinging will be both interesting and maybe even amusing as citizens will watch how candidates react to each and every issue of the day.

There is one particular item that I am hoping each candidate will be asked whether in private or in public. If a Supreme Court vacancy occurs in your potential administration, will you nominate an open and qualified LGBTQ to join the remaining eight?

Other interest groups on both sides have made similar demands over the years and have had them honored. Is it not time that our voices are raised as well? There are several already sitting judges on both state and federal benches that have either been elected statewide or approved by the U.S. Senate.

Our communities are being utilized and abused on judicial menus. Enough already! Challenge each and every candidate, regardless of their party with our honest question and see if honest answers are given. By the way … no harm in asking the one-third of the U.S. Senate candidates too who will be on ballots. Looking forward to any candidate tap dancing!

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2026 elections will bring major changes to D.C. government

Mayor’s office, multiple Council seats up for grabs

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(Washington Blade file image by Aram Vartian)

Next year will be a banner year for elections in D.C. The mayor announced she will not run. Two Council members, Anita Bonds, At-large, and Brianne Nadeau, Ward 1, have announced they will not run. Waiting for Del. Norton to do the same, but even if she doesn’t, there will be a real race for that office. 

So far, Robert White, Council member at-large, and Brooke Pinto, Council member Ward 2, are among a host of others, who have announced. If one of these Council members should win, there would be a special election for their seat. If Kenyon McDuffie, Council member at-large, announces for mayor as a Democrat, which he is expected to do, he will have to resign his seat on the Council as he fills one of the non-Democratic seats there. Janeese George, Ward 4 Council member, announced she is running for mayor. Should she win, there would be a special election for her seat. Another special election could happen if Trayon White, Ward 8, is convicted of his alleged crimes, when he is brought to trial in January. Both the Council chair, and attorney general, have announced they are seeking reelection, along with a host of other offices that will be on the ballot.  

Many of the races could look like the one in Ward 1 where at least six people have already announced. They include three members of the LGBTQ community. It seems the current leader in that race is Jackie Reyes Yanes, a Latina activist, not a member of the LGBTQ community, who worked for Mayor Fenty as head of the Latino Affairs Office, and for Mayor Bowser as head of the Office of Community Affairs. About eight, including the two Council members, have already announced they are running for the delegate seat.

I am often asked by candidates for an endorsement. The reason being my years as a community, LGBTQ, and Democratic, activist; and my ability to endorse in my column in the Washington Blade. The only candidate I endorsed so far is Phil Mendelson, for Council chair. While he and I don’t always agree on everything, he’s a staunch supporter of the LGBTQ community, a rational person, and we need someone with a steady hand if there really are six new Council members, out of the 13. 

When candidates call, they realize I am a policy wonk. My unsolicited advice to all candidates is: Do more than talk in generalities, be specific and honest as to what you think you can do, if elected. Candidates running for a legislative office, should talk about what bills they will support, and then what new ones they will introduce. What are the first three things you will focus on for your constituents, if elected. If you are running against an incumbent, what do you think you can do differently than the person you hope to replace? For any new policies and programs you propose, if there is a cost, let constituents know how you intend to pay for them. Take the time to learn the city budget, and how money is currently being spent. The more information you have at your fingertips, the smarter you sound, and voters respect that, at least many do. If you are running for mayor, you need to develop a full platform, covering all the issues the city will face, something I have helped a number of previous mayors do. The next mayor will continue to have to deal with the felon in the White House. He/she/they will have to ensure he doesn’t try to eliminate home rule. The next mayor will have to understand how to walk a similar tightrope Mayor Bowser has balanced so effectively. 

Currently, the District provides lots of public money to candidates. If you decide to take it, know the details. The city makes it too easy to get. But while it is available, take advantage of it. One new variable in this election is the implementation of rank-choice voting. It will impact how you campaign. If you attack another candidate, you may not be the second, or even third, choice, of their strongest supporters. 

Each candidate needs a website. Aside from asking for donations and volunteers, it should have a robust issues section, biography, endorsements, and news. One example I share with candidates is my friend Zach Wahls’s website. He is running for United States Senate from Iowa. It is a comprehensive site, easy to navigate, with concise language, and great pictures. One thing to remember is that D.C. is overwhelmingly Democratic. Chances are the winner of the Democratic primary will win the general election. 

Potential candidates should read the DCBOE calendar. Petitions will be available at the Board of Elections on Jan. 23, with the primary on June 16th, and general election on Nov. 3. So, ready, set, go! 


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

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Lighting candles in a time of exhaustion

Gunmen killed 15 people at Sydney Hanukkah celebration

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(YouTube screenshot via Reuters)

In the wake of the shooting at Bondi Beach that targeted Jews, many of us are sitting with a familiar feeling: exhaustion. Not shock or surprise, but the deep weariness that comes from knowing this violence continues. It is yet another reminder that antisemitism remains persistent.

Bondi Beach is far from Washington, D.C., but antisemitism does not respect geography. When Jews are attacked anywhere, Jews everywhere feel it. We check on family and friends, absorb the headlines, and brace ourselves for the quiet, numbing normalization that has followed acts of mass violence.

Many of us live at an intersection where threats can come from multiple directions. As a community, we have embraced the concept of intersectional identity, and yet in queer spaces, many LGBTQ+ Jews are being implicitly or explicitly asked to play down our Jewishness. Jews hesitate before wearing a Magen David or a kippah. Some of us have learned to compartmentalize our identities, deciding which part of ourselves feels safest to lead with. Are we welcome as queer people only if we mute our Jewishness? Are those around us able to acknowledge that our fear is not abstract, but rooted in a lived reality, one in which our friends and family are directly affected by the rise in antisemitic violence, globally and here at home?

As a result of these experiences, many LGBTQ+ Jews feel a growing fatigue. We are told, implicitly or explicitly, that our fear is inconvenient; that Jewish trauma must be contextualized, minimized, or deferred in favor of other injustices. Certainly, the world is full of horror. And yet, we long for a world in which all lives are cherished and safe, where solidarity is not conditional on political purity or on which parts of ourselves are deemed acceptable to love.

We are now in the season of Chanuka. The story of this holiday is not one of darkness vanishing overnight. It is the story of a fragile light that should not have lasted. Chanuka teaches us that hope does not require certainty; it requires persistence and the courage to kindle a flame even when the darkness feels overwhelming.

For LGBTQ+ Jews, this lesson resonates deeply. We have survived by refusing to disappear across multiple dimensions of our identities. We have built communities, created rituals, and embraced chosen families that affirm the fullness of who we are.

To our LGBTQ+ siblings who are not Jewish: this is a moment to listen, to stand with us, and to make space for our grief. Solidarity means showing up not only when it is easy or popular, but especially when it is uncomfortable.

To our fellow Jews: your exhaustion is valid. Your fear is understandable, and so is your hope. Every candle lit this Chanuka is an act of resilience. Every refusal to hide, every moment of joy, is a declaration that hatred will not have the final word.

Light does not deny darkness. It confronts it.

As we light our candles this Chanuka season, may we protect one another and bring light to one another, even as the world too often responds to difference with violence and hate.

Joshua Maxey is the executive director of Bet Mishpachah, D.C.’s LGBTQ synagogue.

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