As a child, my relationship with cars was defined by instability and fear. That changed when I got to ride in an autonomous vehicle (AV) for the first time in 2024.

Growing up my father was obsessed with cars and he purchased and leased more than 30 vehicles. Unfortunately, this obsession ultimately drowned our family in unsustainable debt. Worst of all, my childhood was marked by the terrifying reality of riding in vehicles driven by family members under the influence. No one should have to face the fear of consistently having to put their life in the hands of a driver who simply should not be behind the wheel.

Unfortunately, that trauma shaped much of my life. It is one of the reasons I chose to move to a city to build roots and start a family. I intentionally chose multimodal cities where reliance on a personal vehicle wasn’t necessary to live a meaningful and enjoyable life.

However, in 2024, while living in Phoenix, Ariz., my relationship with transportation changed, for the better. I was introduced to Waymo, a fully autonomous ride-hailing service. What began as a curiosity quickly became a revelation. I fell in love with the service and what it offered:  safety, comfort, and remarkable reliability. In fact, I valued the experience so much that I ranked in the top 3% of all Waymo riders nationwide that year.

For someone who grew up terrified by the unpredictability of human drivers, riding in a vehicle programmed never to drive drunk, be distracted, or enraged at fellow drivers was transformative. It wasn’t just transit. It was peace of mind.

Now, as a Ward 6 D.C. resident, I am urging the Council to bring this technology to our nation’s capital through the Autonomous Vehicle Deployment Authorization Amendment Act of 2026. With rising crash related fatalities and a transit system working to meet growing demand, the case for bringing AVs to the District has never been more urgent. 

In the D.C. area, pedestrians are twice as likely to be killed than they were a decade before, despite many efforts to make streets safer. Beyond safety, there is a glaring equity gap in the District’s transit options, particularly for communities East of the River, who routinely face agonizingly long travel times and service delays. Ride-hailing wait times are also getting worse in the District and these residents remain among some of the most severely impacted.

I don’t view these gaps through an abstract or distant lens. I have biked more than 1,500 miles across the District, logged more than 600 rideshares, and ridden the infamous X2 bus route for several years. I’ve seen the absolute best and worst of our transit ecosystem. In my work supporting at-risk and homeless LGBTQ+ youth, I have also seen firsthand how transportation gaps can become barriers to basic survival. Getting across the city can take at least two hours by Metro. This isn’t a minor inconvenience — it’s the difference between making a job interview, a therapy session, or a medical appointment.

In a city striving for Vision Zero to eliminate all traffic fatalities and seeking to deliver equitable transportation, ignoring a technology that systematically eliminates the deadliest variables of driving is a policy failure we cannot afford.

Several organizations representing affected communities, including Mothers Against Drunk Driving, already recognize the immense potential of AVs to eliminate human error and curb the crisis of impaired driving on our roads. Now is the time for the Council to act.

Together, Council members Charles Allen, Brooke Pinto and Matt Frumin have a unique opportunity to implement one of the most innovative AV regulations in the country.

The Autonomous Vehicle Deployment Authorization Amendment Act of 2026 isn’t about replacing public transit; it is about building on it. By passing this bill, D.C. can join forward-thinking cities like San Francisco, Los Angeles, Phoenix, and Miami in delivering safe mobility to its residents. Every day we delay, lives remain at risk.

Beyond safety, this bill represents a real chance to make autonomous transit an accessible and affordable option for residents and help close the gap for communities long underserved. To better meet this goal, the Council should consider expanding the bill to offer transportation support programs, drawing on models in other cities like Los Angeles’ Mobility Wallet.

The next stop? Safer, fairer, transportation for D.C. that is built for the city’s evolving needs. The Council’s decision to hold a hearing is a step in the right direction. Residents East of the River, and across the District, deserve a real public forum. And it’s on the Council to turn that momentum into meaningful, lasting progress. It must act now. 

Cesar Toledo is a first-generation queer Latino and an Out magazine Out100 honoree. He led the largest LGBTQ+ mobilization program in presidential campaign history for Harris-Walz.

When the Washington Blade first reported the story of Jonathan David Muir Burgos, the news centered on a 16-year-old Cuban teenager who had been sent to prison after taking part in a public protest in Morón, Ciego de Ávila. At the time, the facts were straightforward. A minor had lost his freedom, and his case was beginning to attract attention beyond Cuba’s borders.

Today there is another fact that deserves to be recorded with the same rigor.

Jonathan is no longer in prison.

His release, confirmed by multiple news organizations, closes one chapter of a story that, for months, was followed by journalists, human rights organizations, religious communities, and countless individuals who refused to let his name disappear from public view. Each of them became part of a much larger effort to ensure that the imprisonment of a Cuban teenager would not fade into silence as the news cycle moved on.

That collective attention does not explain every decision that ultimately led to Jonathan’s release, and it would be irresponsible to suggest otherwise. Judicial processes are rarely shaped by a single factor. What can be said with certainty is that Jonathan’s story never disappeared. It continued to be documented, discussed and followed long after the initial headlines were published.

Behind every widely reported case there is a family living a reality that rarely appears in the news. In Jonathan’s case, there was a father who also serves as a Protestant pastor and who spent months speaking publicly about his son while asking others not to forget him. There was a mother enduring the uncertainty familiar to any parent separated from a child. There were classmates, friends, and neighbors waiting for the day when Jonathan would no longer be known as the teenager behind bars, but simply as the young man returning home.

The image of a prison gate opening often marks the end of a news story. In reality, it marks the beginning of something far more difficult. A teenager must resume an interrupted education, reconnect with friends, rebuild ordinary routines, and recover a sense of normalcy after months in confinement. Those experiences seldom become headlines, yet they are part of the true cost of imprisonment.

Jonathan’s release is therefore more than an update to a story previously reported. It is a reminder that public attention has value. Journalism matters because it documents. Human rights organizations matter because they investigate. Communities matter because they refuse indifference. Families matter because they continue to wait, even when the waiting becomes unbearable. None of these efforts should be viewed in isolation. Together they ensure that a person’s story does not disappear simply because time has passed.

Many people leave prison after being forgotten.

Jonathan David Muir Burgos walked out of prison knowing that, throughout those months, thousands of people had continued to speak his name, follow his case and hope for the day when this story could be told differently.

Today, that day has arrived.

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.