Opinions
Voter ID laws rendering Black, queer youth invisible
America’s long legacy of denying our ability to live freely
What do you do if you are consistently rendered invisible by the state? How can you exercise your right to vote when your very existence is deemed illegitimate by the system? This is the conundrum so many Black queer, trans, and gender non-conforming (GNC) folks face each and every time they attempt to participate in electoral politics.
Voting laws are directly created and influenced by state and local governments. In particular, 33 states in America require various forms of voter ID. In 10 of these states—Georgia, Indiana, Alabama, Kansas, Mississippi, North Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Virginia, and Wisconsin—voters are required to have a government-issued ID to “prove” their identity to a polling official.
This idea that we must prove our worth, value, and validity to the state is not new. America has a long legacy of denying Black people our ability to live freely and authentically — beginning with the Middle Passage. White imperialists deemed Black communities abnormal and inappropriate. The ways we navigated spaces, loved one another, and existed so comfortably in our bodies were unusual to our oppressors and were therefore deemed unfit. In an effort to instill “order and control,” white imperialists forced us to assimilate to their societal standards. Even our names were whitewashed in order to strip us of our cultural uniqueness.
There is great power and prestige in Black people claiming and owning our names. For queer and trans Black folk to reclaim our bodies and practice authenticity, regardless of societal norms — to choose a name that embodies our full identities and with which we feel comfortable — is revolutionary. To be denied this is violence. This is why roadblocks and red tape such as high-cost court proceedings, the public humiliation of misgendering, and protracted waiting periods are absurd. Why must we suffer to be ourselves? Do you know how traumatic it is to be forced to seek validation from a state apparatus that prefers you dead?
IDs can serve as scarlet letters for many of us because they evoke the disharmony between who we are and what the government will legally recognize. As long as the state refuses to recognize us, we will walk around with identification that outs us and serves as a constant reminder of this violence. So while we wish to travel the country or go clubbing or exercise our right to vote, IDs can be barriers. Voter ID laws blatantly delegitimize our self-determination and states instituting them create toxic anti-trans/anti-GNC environments, inviting blatant discrimination and humiliation by infringing upon our constitutional rights.
State violence threatens the survival of Black people and operates via systems and institutions with which we interact on a daily basis. It is deeply rooted in a cocktail of white supremacy and capitalism – the perverse ideological bedrock of the United States – and never dissipates. Rather, it is revitalized as society develops. Today, Black queer, trans, and GNC bodies continue to be legally disenfranchised as a result of malicious voter ID laws. We are being targeted and silenced, and it is our duty to resist this violence.
These laws are created with the pure intent to keep Blackness at bay — queer, trans, GNC, undocumented, formerly incarcerated and poor folks can be refused access to voting simply because we make white people uncomfortable. Yet, all is not lost — we can do something about this. Legislation created on the local and state levels has direct implications for the ways we are allowed to live our daily lives. Protocols that can be instituted to protect our people and ensure accessibility are birthed on the state and local levels. Those Blue Lives Matter bills, HB2 and other bathroom bills, these voter ID laws: all a result of state and local legislative processes. Not only does legislation directly affect us—the amount of money allocated to specific systems, initiatives, and institutions that operate as marginalizing forces do as well.
Time and time again, we’ve witnessed the corrupt practices of government institutions (read: criminal “justice” system) and their efforts to target, police, and harass our community. In this national election moment, folks are urging us to go out and vote because it is our “duty” to “be the change we wish to see.” I reject this rhetoric because I recognize how intrinsically corrupt America’s political systems and institutions are. But I also believe in Black folks’ voting power, particularly at the state and local level, as one of the weapons in our arsenal to move this country toward Black liberation.
When we think about our movement’s call to divest from policing and invest into Black communities as a means to restore and revive our people, we must realize that this work begins on the state and local level. The leaders who we elect to run our communities have access to and can decide how to spend thousands of dollars siphoned from our salaries every year. Money is invested into our schools, infrastructure, prison system, police salaries, and more. We have an opportunity to control where and how that money is used — starting with whom we choose to make these final decisions.
If you’re enfranchised, get out and vote. Restore the voting power of the disenfranchised.
(This is part of an op-ed series curated by #WeBuiltThis in which Black millennial contributors explore the sordid relationship between state violence and elected politicians. For more information, text OPED to 228466.)
L’lerrét Jazelle Ailith graduated from Xavier University with a bachelor’s in chemistry. She serves as communications manager for BYP100, a Black youth activist organization dedicated to direct action organizing and leadership development of 18-35 year olds. As a Black trans women, she is devoted to contributing to trauma healing initiatives, improving public health, developing/fostering community social awareness and critical analysis, and utilizing multiple media platforms as vehicles for community mobilization and restorative justice.
Commentary
Washington Blade responds to concerns over White House pool duties
Inaccurate media reports create confusion but we stand with our colleagues
Last week, President Trump announced his unconstitutional ban of CNN, MSNow, and Politico from the White House. Coincidentally, on Monday, it was the Washington Blade’s turn to serve as the print pool reporter on duty covering the president’s actions that day. This important responsibility is shared and rotated among the print members with each serving roughly once per month. The Blade is the only LGBTQ outlet with a seat in the briefing room, a slot in the pool rotation, and membership in the White House Correspondents’ Association, something we fought for decades to secure after enduring years of discrimination, ridicule, and resistance to openly queer journalists working inside the White House. We take our responsibilities there seriously.
There are two pools that cover the president: broadcast and print. The other four members of the broadcast pool — ABC, CBS, NBC, and Fox News — agreed to boycott their pool duties. There has been no boycott among the print pool, which is a separate entity. I called the president of the White House Correspondents’ Association on Monday to confirm that no outlets in the print pool were boycotting.
A boycott by the Blade would set us back and lead to our expulsion from the pool and briefing room and our replacement by a right-wing outlet sympathetic to President Trump’s approach to attacking the media. The LGBTQ community is far better served with the Blade in the room than a far-right blogger taking our seat.
Let’s be clear: the Blade stands for diversity, equity, and inclusion and we stand for the First Amendment and freedom of the press. In solidarity with the broadcast pool, we made two important decisions on Monday — the first day anyone had to think about any of this. First, we refused to take or share any videos or still photos of the president, which would have undermined the broadcast boycott. Second, when Politico’s turn comes up for pool duty in mid-October, the Blade will not fill in and cover for them while they are banned. Politico must be readmitted and allowed to do their job.
After a rough day navigating and reporting on all of this, the Advocate published a reckless and inaccurate story suggesting that the Blade had crossed a picket line. Not true, as there is no print pool boycott. They claimed that I wouldn’t talk to their reporter. Also not true. I called their reporter within 90 minutes of receiving his message and he didn’t take the call or call me back. Their story named me and our White House reporter, immediately exposing us to public criticism and worse. The environment in D.C. is so toxic and even violent these days that subjecting our staff to unfair and false accusations like this invites harassment, doxxing, and worse. To do that without even talking to us is next level irresponsible and the antithesis of journalism.
On Tuesday, I talked to two reporters and an editor at the Advocate but they refused to retract anything in their inaccurate story. If the reporter had returned my call, I could have explained all of this but they are more concerned with clickbait and sensational headlines, a dangerous practice in these troubled times.
Back to the pool. The Blade was in the briefing room in the Reagan era, when Press Secretary Larry Speakes made jokes about AIDS and the reporters in the room laughed out loud. We endured all of that abuse and worse for decades, always standing in the back of the room and never being called on. The Blade’s journalists persevered. When President George W. Bush was re-elected in 2004, the Blade’s White House credentials were revoked amid an earlier press crackdown. Notably, no one boycotted or stood up for us. When Barack Obama won election in 2008, I received an email from his communications director informing me that effective midnight on Jan. 20, 2009, the Blade’s credentials would be restored.
So we have had quite a ride navigating administrations and their changing requirements for gaining access but always playing the long game. As Barney Frank used to say, “If you’re not at the table, then you’re probably on the menu.” The Blade is at the table and we do our best to ensure the LGBTQ community’s issues are addressed by both parties.
Thanks for reading and supporting the Blade’s work. If you have questions about our approach, you can reach me at [email protected].
Kevin Naff is editor of the Washington Blade. Reach him at [email protected].
Opinions
Young people should know history of the fight for human rights
Trump is working to erase contributions of marginalized people
When talking with otherwise really smart young people, I am amazed how little knowledge many of them have about the fight for human rights in the United States. Our country was founded by white men, who didn’t think about giving full rights to Black Americans, women, the LGBTQ community (what they knew of it, or called it). They wrote in the Declaration of Independence, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” But that referred to all white men, and intentionally didn’t mention women. For 250 years, the country has been trying to make up for that, and making progress in fits and starts. We have yet to fully succeed. Today the felon, and his fascist aides, in the White House, are working daily to take us backwards.
For that reason alone, it is important for younger generations to understand the fight for human rights, know who was fighting for those rights, and understand it is an ongoing fight. Often, when listening to some millennials speak, one would think the world began with them. They either forgot, or never learned, about all those who fought for the rights they now have. I realize this was true for previous generations as well. In 2016 I co-hosted a fundraiser for Pete Buttigieg during his run for president. He is an undeniably brilliant guy. Yet when he spoke of marriage equality, he just thanked Justice Kennedy for it. I reminded him after he spoke, while it’s nice to thank Kennedy for his vote, it shouldn’t be done without acknowledging the many activists who worked for decades, to get to the point that allowed Kennedy to cast that vote. In the same way it was clear to me during the Hillary Clinton campaign for president, many young women didn’t understand the work many of their own mothers had done, to fight for their right to control their own healthcare, and women’s rights in general. They took for granted the rights they had. Now, after losing some of them, many will realize the fight for their rights is never-ending.
When I speak to younger members of the LGBTQ community, I am amazed how many don’t know the history of the AIDS epidemic, many thinking it was always a disease you could deal with by taking medication. They don’t understand the work so many activists did to bring attention to this devastating disease, and get the healthcare so many needed. Those like Cleve Jones, Larry Kramer, Dr. Anthony Fauci, and so many others. Recently, I realized how many young women don’t know the names of Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, Shirley Chisholm, Bella Abzug — women who fought for their rights. And this is just recent history, no less knowing about the Suffragettes, the strong women who fought for their right to vote. I’ve met young women who don’t know what the ERA is, and others who think it passed. Many don’t know the nation couldn’t get 38 states to approve an amendment to include them in the Constitution. The same for young members of the LGBTQ community who don’t know what the Equality Act is. Others think it passed, and are shocked when told it didn’t and in 27 states, they can be married on Sunday, and kicked out of their home, and fired from their job, on Monday. They don’t know names like Frank Kameny, Harvey Milk, Barney Frank, or the history of the Mattachine Society, or the Stonewall Riots.
Our current president is trying to wipe out all this history, and reverse any progress that has been made. Knowing this, it makes it even more important for school systems across the nation to fight to educate our children. We should ensure no child can graduate high school, without taking a course called “The 250-year fight for human rights in the United States.” They need to understand the history, and learn about the people who fought for their rights. They need to know how far we have come in 250 years, and understand, as we begin the next 250, how far we still have to go, to ensure real, full equality, for all.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
Commentary
What LGBTQ veterans are building after ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’
DADT repeal took effect on Sept. 20, 2011. Trans servicemember ban reinstated
Fifteen years ago this month, the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” took effect. At the time, the importance of the change was obvious: gay, lesbian, and bisexual Americans would no longer have to hide who they were to wear the uniform. What was harder to see was what would follow: a generation of LGBTQ veterans able to carry their service openly into American civic life.
Earlier this month, Alaska state Rep. Andrew Gray, an Army veteran, stood before the Anchorage Assembly and asked the city to recognize Sept. 20 as LGBTQ Veterans Day.
His former command sergeant major, Mike Grunst, followed him to the microphone. A 35-year veteran who had served in combat, Grunst called troops who had served while hiding who they were “the bravest I have ever served with.”
Then Denise Sudbeck stepped forward. A Vietnam-era Navy veteran, she thanked the country for the privilege of serving and asked that the next generation have the same chance.
The Assembly approved the recognition.
Nothing about the scene required a new vocabulary. A veteran made a request of his community. A commander vouched for those who served beside him. Another veteran asked that younger Americans inherit the opportunity she valued. They entered the civic record simply as veterans.
That identity can do more than win recognition.
When federal policy abruptly ended the careers of transgender servicemembers this year, veterans and servicemembers in California began asking a practical question: What happens when those Americans come home?
Republican Assemblyman Jeff Gonzalez, a Marine combat veteran, began one hearing with questions about transgender military service. He listened as veterans explained how the military handles medical care and deployment case by case.
Then the discussion turned to separation.
“I don’t wanna see any veteran homeless,” Gonzalez said. Before the hearing ended, he was asking: “How can I help? How can I understand? How can I be a good advocate?”
The legislation that followed would provide housing, employment and transition assistance to discharged servicemembers. Republican state Sen. Shannon Grove spoke for it. The Senate passed it 32 to 0.
Americans have plainly not settled their disagreements over transgender people. Nor should military service be a prerequisite for rights that belong to every citizen.
But military service creates relationships that are difficult to reduce to the abstractions of the culture war. Before a legislature, “the transgender issue” can become a veteran who deployed, an officer who led troops, or the person who once stood beside you.
The political question changes because the human relationship has already changed.
The pattern is beginning to appear across the country. Kansas is among the states recognizing LGBTQ Veterans Day for the first time this year. New York and Virginia are pursuing broader state-level programs for LGBTQ veterans.
Sept. 20 is deliberate. On that day in 2011, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” ended.
We usually remember repeal for what LGBTQ Americans gained: the ability to serve openly. Fifteen years later, we can also see what the country gained.
A gay veteran can stand before his local government beside the commander who once led him. A transgender servicemember can sit before a legislator who begins with doubts and ends by asking how he can help. A veteran from an older generation can ask her neighbors to give those who follow her the same chance to serve.
This is citizenship in practice.
The enduring legacy of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” repeal is not only that Americans were finally allowed to serve openly. It is also what they can now build after coming home.
