Opinions
Diane Abbitt remembers MECLA and Harvey Milk
His push for honesty still inspires people around the world to come out

Attorney Diane Abbitt helped found and has served on the boards of several LGBT organizations, including MECLA, APLA and HRC.
It does not seem possible that the LGBT community is commemorating the 40th anniversary of the death of Harvey Milk on this day, Nov. 27, 2018. So much has changed, so many rights won and yet so many challenges remain. As time passes, fewer and fewer people are left who remember the beginning of the movement as we know it today—the scrappy grassroots Gay Liberation Front organizing social services and eradicate-shame consciousness-raising at the Gay Community Services Center and a group of successful lawyers and business leaders raising money and forming the first gay political action committee to elect pro-gay officials in Los Angeles; and in San Francisco, their spirited political activism included businessman Harvey Milk, who made history winning a seat on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1978. Few remain who remember what that meant to a fledgling community—but Harvey’s assignation still reverberates past the shock of that day.
I came out in 1973. Imagine a time when there was no internet, no social media, no television shows that had a gay or lesbian character, no gay Pride parades, no Human Rights Campaign, no Equality California, no Victory Fund, no WEHO, no Williams Institute, no celebrity-filled black-tie fundraisers, no books or courses on the LBGTQ community. Magazines and newsletters were mailed in non-descript brown covers so no one would know its contents. There was no way, except by word of mouth or in bars, for lesbians or gay men to connect, to find community.
My first discovery of community was through radical lesbian separatist feminists who thought that men had no place in the movement and that lesbians with male children should give them away. Since I had two very young beautiful sons that I was fighting to keep in my care and custody, this philosophy did not work for me. Then a friend told me that LA NOW (National Organization for Women) was having a Lesbian Mothers meeting. That changed the course of my life and I soon became the first co-chair of LA NOW’s Lesbian and Sexuality Task Force.
Meanwhile, gay men were also searching for community. Some discovered it at the Los Angeles Gay Community Services Center, founded in 1969 and headquartered in an old Victorian building on Wilshire Boulevard. They offered social services and held men’s consciousness raising groups offering gay men an alternative to the bathhouse and bar scene.
There was also another group called Orion. They were seven gay men led by lawyers Peter Scott and Stephen Lachs, who would become the nation’s first out gay judge. There were all smart, successful and closeted in the outside world. But as their sense of shame dissipated and self-acceptance grew, they wanted to give back to the community and to make it easier and safer for other gay people to live their truth. After much debate, in 1977, they formed the first PAC whose mission was legal protections and full equality, including a seat at the legislative table, for gay people. The goal seemed large and daunting! Even choosing a name was challenging. It had to be non-descript, something an accountant who didn’t know the contributor was gay would not question, and so MECLA (Municipal Elections Committee of Los Angeles) was born.
But finding people to contribute was hard! The MECLA board expanded to 11 and the men began the tedious task of raising money to fund the PAC. Therapist Rob Eichberg had raised money for the Jewish community and the men adopted that model—asking friends to a roundtable luncheon, locking the doors (figuratively speaking), then going around the table asking/telling each person how much they were giving. Eventually Peter realized lesbians should be included and I, along with other non-board members, raised what today we would think of as a small budget. I got so good at raising money, I was elected MECLA’s first female board co-chair.
The first year, two candidates to whom MECLA contributed returned the money when they realized the source of the funds would have to be reported in their campaign filing report. As MECLA’s success grew, it became the model for HRC and other political action committees throughout California.
At the same time MECLA was getting off the ground, San Francisco was going through its own coming out process. Harvey Milk had moved to San Francisco from New York in 1972 and opened a camera shop in the Castro. The shop became the center of gay political activism as Harvey campaigned three times for a seat on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, in 1973, in 1975, and finally in 1977, when he won. During those four years, he developed his political acumen, built relationships and coalitions and started describing himself as “The Mayor of Castro Street” at a time when the gay vote was starting to be recognized as powerful.
Peter Scott, David Mixner and I, among many others in Los Angeles, worked with Supervisor Harvey Milk to defeat Prop 6, the Briggs Initiative, on Nov. 7, 1978—a spectacular success! Twenty days later, Harvey was assassinated. It’s still shocking to remember. But Harvey’s humor and often too-loud leadership brought an awareness of injustices being suffered by the gay community not only in San Francisco but beyond. His hopeful campaign for LGBTQ people to come out still inspires people around the world.
Opinions
Gloria Steinem’s life of substance and consequence
Iconic activist never stopped working to make life better for women
Gloria Steinem was an icon, a feminist, a woman of substance and consequence. A rare person who made a difference her entire life; sometimes quietly, sometimes by making noise. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, inside and out.
I heard of Gloria Steinem and admired her for all she was doing. But that was from a distance. I read about her, and saw her on TV. It was 1963 when Steinem wrote and published her undercover Playboy Bunny exposé, “A Bunny’s Tale,” about her going undercover at New York’s Playboy Club. Her account revealed the physical toll, exploitative conditions, and pervasive sexism faced by the women employed there, challenging the magazine’s image of empowerment.
It was 1972 when I first met her in person. That first meeting happened while I was campaigning for Bella Abzug (D-N.Y.) at a street rally. I said “Hello, Ms. Steinem,” and she said “It’s OK to call me Gloria.” I was honored to do so.
Gloria was there to support her friend. Bella had been through a grueling primary against Bill Ryan, after being redistricted out of her seat. She lost, but then Bill died of cancer before the election, and Bella was named the Democratic candidate in the general election for New York’s 20th congressional district. When Bella won that race, I went to work for her full time. It gave me the chance to meet Gloria again a number of times after that, once even with Bella at her apartment. While she was one of the many famous people I met while working for Bella, she was different. She wasn’t Hollywood. She began her career as a reporter, and worked hard for all she believed in. She was a true activist. That was what she saw herself as. She could say she came by the activism gene from her paternal grandmother, Pauline Perlmutter Steinem who Wikipedia reported, “chaired the educational committee of the National Woman Suffrage Association and was a delegate to the 1908 International Council of Women. Also, the first woman to be elected to the Toledo Board of Education and a leader in the movement for vocational education. She helped rescue many members of her family from the Holocaust.”
So yes, in many ways, activism was in Gloria’s genes. She was the one who told me it was OK to call myself a ‘feminist’. That it isn’t only women who can call themselves that, but also men who believed and fought for full social, economic, and political equality of the sexes. She helped me to understand I was brought up by a feminist. My mom, though she never called herself that, was one by dint of how she lived her life, and fought for others.
Gloria never stopped working to make life better for women, and to make sure other women joined her in her activism. In 1969, she co-founded Ms. Magazine. Then in 1971, with Bella Abzug, Betty Friedan and Shirley Chisholm, she founded the National Women’s Political Caucus, which provided training and support for women seeking elected and appointed office. Then in the same year she co-founded the Women’s Action Alliance, which until 1997 supported a network of feminist activists and worked to advance feminist causes and legislation.
Gloria would hold other women to task if they didn’t speak out, even at difficult times, but always with love. In 1986, Bella’s husband Martin died at the young age of 69. We were at the funeral home the night before the funeral, and Bella was sitting with some of us, and saying she didn’t know what she would do without Martin. It had been a true love affair. She was saying things like she didn’t even know where the checkbook was, what their rent was, etc., because Martin handled all that. Well Gloria overheard this and came over and said to Bella, “Don’t you dare say that in public, women look up to you as a feminist, as independent, you can’t say that.” And we all laughed, even Bella, as did Gloria, but she was serious.
Then in the 1990s Gloria helped to establish what she called ‘Take Our Daughters to Work Day.’ She did this to try to have young girls learn about future career opportunities. But her work wasn’t done and in 2005, along with Jane Fonda and Robin Morgan, she co-founded the Women’s Media Center. It is an organization that “works to make women visible and powerful in the media.”
The last time I saw Gloria was at the opening night of “Gloria: A Life,” at Theatre J in D.C. She was 88, as beautiful, and sharp as ever, having just come back from a speaking engagement in some far-off country.
Gloria, the world will miss you, RIP.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
Commentary
Anti-science, anti-LGBTQ movements go hand in hand
HHS under RFK Jr. has blocked gender-affirming care for youth
A newborn baby died after contracting measles in Pennsylvania last month, and, as if it wasn’t enough grief for his parents, anti-vax activists are trying to track down and harass his family. Apparently, Gov. Josh Shapiro tangled with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. over his “inaccurate and misleading claims.”
On Aug. 26, RFK Jr., the secretary of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, declared that the deaths could be fabricated. We live in peculiar times, when it is government officials, not freaks on the internet, who are spreading conspiracy theories. The new spread of measles in the United States since Donald Trump came to power is one of the most shameful parts of the story of modern American politics, and the tragedy of parents who lost their baby because more and more people refused to vaccinate may seem absolutely unrelated to LGBTQ rights, but actually, there is a pretty solid connection.
Because RFK Jr., the same man who was fighting vaccination, promoted the false idea that vaccines caused autism, and even curated the anti-vaccine organization Children’s Health Defense before going into politics, is also a known opponent of transgender rights. Under his “leadership,” gender-affirming care for trans minors was banned, and there were also created new healthcare guidelines recognizing only two genders.
All around the globe, there is a weird correlation between anti-LGBTQ — particularly anti-trans — ideas and anti-science movements. And it should be clearer to the general public. People who are speaking against LGBTQ rights are not just threatening minorities. They are a danger to everyone.
The Trump-Vance administration is an iconic example of such tendencies.
Trump himself is a known critic of modern scientific studies — for example, believing in the same anti-vax conspiracies that Kennedy promoted, and showing obvious skepticism that global warming exists, despite all the evidence that has been shown by climatologists. And he is also a man who used trans people as boogeymen. Under his command, trans people were kicked out of the military. And even worse, recently he made an extremely chilling statement about the 2026 midterm elections, urging voters to “pretend I’m on the ballot” and vote for Republicans, and while discussing what he says is at stake, he said that if Republicans win, “transgenderism” will “end.” This is an offensive statement at best and genocidal at worst.
And, of course, I think everyone remembers the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), which was led by infamous billionaire Elon Musk, who announced to the world that he would destroy the “woke mind virus” that killed his child just because his trans daughter, Vivian Wilson, well, is happy to be a trans person.
DOGE is known not just for cancelling academic research around LGBTQ studies and gender studies. No, this agency abruptly canceled and froze thousands of federal science, research, and health grants, attacking such vital health programs as cancer research, vaccination research, and diabetes research, among others. As you can see, they are not just attacking people who are “affected” by the “mind” virus — they are dangerous to everyone, even if most of the public standing of Musk was around his anti-trans politics and he tried to present himself as a pro-science, pro-progress man by supporting the space industry.
An even more vivid example is the so-called Dark Enlightenment movement.
This extremely reactionary political movement was born in the late 2000s, and originally grew from very democratical classical liberal ideas. Until it became anti-democratic itself. And also often It was created by American software engineer Curtis Yarvin (writing under the pseudonym Mencius Moldbug) and expanded by British philosopher Nick Land. The movement is popular among some Silicon Valley businessmen, and got support from PayPal founder Peter Thiel, and one of their main ideas is that modernity is bad. They are basically obscurantists, who see modern universities as part of “the Cathedral” — a system that, in their opinion, promotes equality and modern science that society doesn’t need. Of course, the movement’s followers are mostly anti-LGBTQ rights, and, as you can see, anti-queerness once again go hand in hand with obscurantism. Unfortunately, the movement got the support of extremely prominent politicians, including U.S. Vice President JD Vance.
In his speech from 2021, Vance proved to be an obscurantist when he claimed that universities are the enemy. He is also a known homophobe and transphobe.
So, why are anti-vaxxers, people who oppose modern scientific studies, and people who hate universities more likely to be queerphobic? Why do the same people who are defending their transphobia by showing that they support common sense actually often show zero such sense when it comes to protecting themselves and their children from measles or decreasing the chances of getting cancer?
We don’t have any statistics or studies that show that all obscurantists are queerphobic, but around the globe, the same dynamic is visible.
In Russian anti-LGBTQ censorship, books about animal biology and zoology have been censored because the censors saw “LGBT propaganda” in them. The famous pro-Putin philosopher Alexander Dugin, who is extremely anti-queer, also speaks up against modernity itself.
In Taliban’s Afghanistan, modern science and LGBTQ rights are attacked at the same time.
Even in the UK, Reform UK is known as the most anti-trans and anti-queer party, and they are facing widespread criticism from scientists and medical experts for promoting climate change denial and anti-vaccine ideas. It doesn’t mean that LGBTQ supporters never believe in conspiracy theories or that progressive politicians always support science.
No, it just means that explicit anti-science and anti-LGBTQ statements often go hand in hand.
I think there are two reasons for this correlation.
First, LGBTQ people are real. You cannot deny that sex is not binary, gender and sex are different, and transition improves the quality of life of actual trans people. Or that same-sex relationships are natural, because even animals have same-sex sexual contacts. To deny it, you need an ideology or a conspiracy theory.
The second reason is that anti-scientific populism and anti-LGBTQ conspiracy theories are popular among the same category of people. It’s a “bundle” of ideas — a trend that conservative voters often adopt together. Studies also show that people who are likely to believe in one conspiracy theory are more likely to believe in another.
But the question is more broad. We don’t speak enough about the harm anti-scientific conspiracy theories and obscurantist politicians around the globe create for mankind in general. Not all people would suffer from a prohibition of hormone therapy, or attacks on same-sex marriage. But anti-global warming ideas, anti-vax advocates, and restrictions on modern research, especially medical research, are potentially dangerous to any human being.
And one of the best things LGBTQ activists could do is just show society that they are being used — that the same people who are stealing LGBTQ rights are also destroying medicine and the environment, and it’s a threat to their own traditional families and future of all kids no less than to queer people.
Opinions
Trans people need a politics of ordinary life
Seeking the freedom to stop explaining ourselves
For much of the modern transgender rights movement, our political vocabulary has understandably been a vocabulary of emergency. We talk about healthcare bans, bathroom restrictions, discrimination, violence, court decisions, and executive orders. We organize because something is being taken away, prohibited or threatened.
Those fights are necessary. But they cannot constitute our entire vision of transgender life.
The Williams Institute at UCLA estimates that approximately 2.8 million Americans ages 13 and older identify as transgender, including roughly 2.1 million adults. Transgender people are only about 0.8 percent of the adult population. Yet transgender Americans occupy an extraordinary amount of the country’s political attention.
Behind those political arguments are millions of people doing profoundly ordinary things.
We commute to work. We complain about rent. We walk our dogs. We sit in traffic. We buy groceries. We fall in love with people who sometimes disappoint them. We worry about our parents getting older. We try to make enough money to retire. We drink coffee before work and wonder what to make for dinner.
This ordinariness should be part of the political project.
For years, LGBTQ advocacy has emphasized visibility. Visibility was necessary because silence allowed discrimination to flourish. Americans needed to understand that gay and transgender people existed in their families, workplaces and communities.
But visibility is a means, not an end.
The endpoint of civil rights is not permanent visibility. It is freedom.
And freedom includes the freedom to stop explaining yourself.
There should be nothing remarkable about a transgender accountant preparing someone’s taxes, a transgender teacher grading papers, a transgender novelist writing a book that has absolutely nothing to do with gender, or a transgender retiree arguing with the homeowners association about somebody’s fence.
That sounds almost comically mundane. That is precisely the point.
For many transgender Americans, mundane life remains harder to obtain than it should be. The 2022 U.S. Transgender Survey, which collected responses from more than 92,000 people, found that 34 percent of respondents were experiencing poverty and 18 percent were unemployed. Eleven percent of respondents who had ever worked reported losing a job because of their gender identity or expression. Nearly 30 percent had experienced homelessness during their lives.
Those numbers tell us something important about what transgender politics should accomplish.
A successful movement cannot measure progress exclusively by representation in television shows, corporate Pride campaigns or the number of transgender politicians elected to office. It must also ask whether transgender people can build stable, boring lives.
Can you find a job?
Can you rent an apartment?
Can you go to the doctor without becoming a political subject?
Can you walk into a restaurant with your spouse without calculating whether everyone is staring at you?
Can you spend an afternoon thinking about something other than being transgender?
Even healthcare illustrates the distance between formal inclusion and ordinary dignity. A 2024 KFF analysis found that 33 percent of LGBT adults who had recently used healthcare reported being treated unfairly or disrespectfully by a healthcare provider, compared with 15 percent of non-LGBT adults. Thirty-nine percent said a negative healthcare experience had made them less likely to seek care.
Equality therefore cannot simply mean keeping a clinic open. It must mean being able to enter that clinic, receive competent treatment and leave without feeling that your identity has swallowed the entire encounter.
There is a broader political lesson here.
Transgender Americans have sometimes been transformed into abstractions by both sides of the culture war. To some conservatives, we are evidence of social decline. To some progressives, we become symbols of resistance. Neither description leaves much room for the complicated, frequently uninteresting reality of being a person.
Most people do not wake up every morning thinking about their demographic categories. They think about deadlines, relationships, bills, ambitions, annoyances and whether there is enough milk in the refrigerator.
Transgender people deserve that luxury too.
A politics of ordinary life would therefore defend transgender healthcare and civil rights vigorously while articulating something beyond defense. Its objective would be integration: transgender Americans participating in civic life without every interaction becoming a referendum on gender.
That means protecting employment and housing. It means making competent healthcare routine rather than exceptional. It means creating communities where transgender children can imagine futures that extend beyond surviving adolescence. And it means allowing transgender adults to become bankers, mechanics, professors, parents, entrepreneurs and retirees without expecting them to become activists simply because they are transgender.
There will always be people who choose activism. We need them. There will always be people who speak publicly about their transitions. Their testimony matters.
But there should also be room for the transgender person who wants none of that.
Civil rights movements succeed not merely when marginalized people become visible, but when their presence stops requiring explanation.
The most radical future I can imagine for transgender Americans is therefore surprisingly conventional: a country in which being transgender can become one fact among hundreds about a person rather than the organizing principle of a life.
Perhaps the ultimate measure of transgender equality will not be how frequently America talks about transgender people. It will be the day when it no longer has to.
Isaac Amend is a transgender man and writer based in D.C. In 2017, Isaac starred in National Geographic’s “Gender Revolution” documentary. He sits on the board of the LGBT Democrats of Virginia. His author’s portfolio is available at isaacamend.com and you can find him on Instagram at: @isaacamend.
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