Opinions
Marijuana is a medicine not a menace
Coming out of the closet about using cannabis
I am the past chairperson of the board of directors of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, based in Washington, D.C. for the past 50 years.
Our offices are on H Street, and if that stands for High, donāt worry one bit. I am delighted to report that more and more Americans are coming out of the closet openly and freely about using cannabis proudly.
The medicalization, decriminalization, and inevitable legalization of marijuana has turned the corner in America. Dispensaries are populating our neighborhoods, and cannabis cafes are opening in our communities. Earth is still on its axis, and planes are still taking off on time.
If only the activists in the cannabis community had the courage of LGBTQ pioneers, the movement might have emerged sooner. You see, it was the gay communityās advocates during the AIDS era that first spoke out about the medicinal properties of marijuana. Cannabis fought the wasting syndrome, stimulating appetites and improving a patientās health.
Unfortunately, for decades, archaic and unconscionable cannabis laws criminalized innocent behavior and denied HIV patients medicine. The laws also discriminated against racial minorities and unjustly incarcerated hundreds of thousands of our countrymen wrongly. A new day has dawned.
Todayās cannabis consumers cross political parties, generational lines, and sexual identities. We are opening businesses, not posting bail. We are starting corporations, not fighting incarceration. We are energizing economies with entrepreneurs, transacting sales at retail counters, not negotiating deals in dark alleys.
As we research and expand the medical dimensions of cannabis, we have also discovered marijuana is a useful treatment for treating patients living with HIV, PTSD, cancer, arthritis and a host of other illnesses. From dealing with seizures to glaucoma, cannabis has proven itself to be a medicine, not a menace.
Yes, good weed also gets you high. It is supposed to. Cannabis consumers know that colors become brighter, food tastes better, and sex can be more satisfying. Thatās OK. The choices you make to derive pleasure should be your right, not a crime.
The legitimate powers of government should reach no further than controlling acts that are injurious to others. Pot never should have been criminalized. Outside of making North Dakota a state, locking people up for smoking weed was one of the dumbest things our government has ever done.
Federal law still declares cannabis has āno medicinal value.ā In dozens of states and countless communities across the country, this places new dispensaries and cannabis entrepreneurs in constant legal jeopardy. We canāt let that go on. Itās a continuing injustice.
Even worse, while 32 states have moved progressively toward a new day of decriminalization, there are still many zip codes that have not. We cannot afford to celebrate on the shore while people are still being swallowed up in the ocean. There are legal initiatives still to be won.
Earlier this year, a conservative Republican Florida congressman, Matt Gaetz, partnered with New Yorkās Democratic Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to propose revising federal cannabis laws. If polar political opposites can come together, so can we all.
Ultimately, the right to consume cannabis should not even be made by a lawmaker in the state house. Itās one you have the right to make in your own house. You see, itās never really been about the pot. It is about the right you as an adult should have to make decisions about what to do with your own body.
The pursuit of happiness is a constitutional right, not a legislative grant.
Whether you put a pizza pie, a penis, or inhale pot into your lungs, it should be your choice, not a lawmakerās. Nothing less than your inalienable right to free choice is at stake. Donāt let anyone tell you otherwise.
Norm Kent is publisher of the South Florida Gay News.
Commentary
Sexting with younger guy has me asking: How queer am I?
Reflections on LGBTQ life in 2024
Once upon a time, not all that long ago, a man sexted another man.
There were words. There were pictures. There were filthy questions and even filthier responses. You know, the way a good sexting convo ought to be, for those who dabble.
One man was 33. The other, 24. And while it comes as no shock that I was the 33-year-old, it may be more surprising to learn it was the 24-year-old who grabbed the reins.
What kinks you into? he asked.
Shit ā I didnāt know. I barely even bottomed before the pandemic, and now I had to know my kinks?
Iām open, I replied, evasively. You?
His response left me coughing: āLove musk sweat ws public group rough bb verbal bate edge roleplay and very open-minded.ā
Now Iām no prude (in fact, many would call me a downright whore) but this young man articulating his kinks and fetishes in such detail blew my mind. When did he learn what he liked? At 24, all I wanted was to top a guy and leave with as little communication or attachment as possible. At 33, I wasnāt sure what a few of the items he listed even meant.
Perhaps I shouldnāt be surprised when young men ā and the younger generation across the LGBTQ spectrum in general ā have already figured out their sexual interests. I arrived in D.C. from Idaho in 2008 as a fresh-faced 18-year-old; I came out three years later in 2011. Attitudes toward queerness have shifted substantially since then, and these days it is undeniably easier for younger people to explore their sexual and gender identities (which, by the way, is fantastic).
But this conversation left me wondering: What do I like? I havenāt sought out that many new sexual experiences, and while fetishes, kinks, and sexual desires can seem trivial, theyāre inextricably intertwined with gender and relationships. If I canāt articulate what I like in the sack (or in public, if I dare), then how do I know what Iām seeking from a long-term partner, or if thatās even what I want?
As soon as I came out, I thought my job was done. All I needed after that was to snatch up a cutie and settle down. Instead, my identity centered on building my career in politics, where sexual openness isnāt as appreciated. I, like many D.C. queers around me, moved here bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to change the world for good.
Then came a tough lesson: Just because I wanted to improve the world didnāt mean people wanted me to. I was inexplicably fired from not one job but two, and suddenly the do-gooder in me grew jaded. The career I dedicated years to was suddenly ripped from my hands, and I became so disillusioned I didnāt even want it back. Oh, and the cherry on top: My boyfriend dumped me two days later.
Once everything unraveled, I wondered: Was the me of the past the me I truly wanted? Or was I reflecting back what I thought everyone wanted me to be?
Well, a few major meltdowns and an extended slut phase later, my life couldnāt be more different. I now work at a new gay bar in town to support myself, and Iāve given myself space to pursue the arts. This former straight-laced, type-A, tightly wound gay abandoned the safe track and he couldnāt be more terrified. He also couldnāt be more excited.
But losing my old career also left an existential-sized hole in my identity. So, as I sexted this 24-year-old with newfound awareness of my limitations, I decided this must change.
How? As I said, I work at a gay bar in one of the queerest cities in America. Now more than ever Iām surrounded by those who are LGBTQ and every shade in between. Why not learn from those around me, whether younger, older, or around the same age, but whose experiences are no less queer? Why not carve out time to have in-depth discussions and discover what the possibilities are?
If being queer means to go against the established norms of gender and sexuality, then thereās still plenty of territory for me to explore. No longer can ābottomā or ātopā be my only options.
So, the purpose of this column ā aptly titled Queer Quest ā is to capture my exploration of queer identity. Itās not to teach you as much as it is to teach myself, and you can either learn alongside me or simply be entertained. At the very least, Iāll have a series of portraits on what itās like to be queer in the mid 2020s. At most, Iāll have a better understanding of who I am as a queer person.
Then maybe, just maybe, Iāll become a better sexter.
Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer.
Commentary
What will you do to make Pride safe this year?
Anxiety reigns among American Jews after Oct. 7
Each year, hundreds of thousands of Jews and supporters of Israel attend Pride marches. With a few exceptions, these spaces have always been safe and welcoming for the broader Pride community.
But this year is different.
For American Jews, anxiety reigns as we head into this Pride season. The appalling rise of antisemitism since Oct. 7 forces us to ask difficult questions. As many Jews increasingly feel alienated and excluded from progressive spaces, weāre left to wonder: If I wear a Jewish symbol, march with a Jewish group, or wave a rainbow flag adorned with the Star of David, will I be safe at Pride?
Even before Oct. 7, LGBTQ Jews had plenty of reason to feel trepidation about their safety at Pride. From blanket bans on Stars of David at past Pride gatherings to antisemitism on display at the recent Sydney Pride, too often Jews feel forced to choose between their LGBTQ and Jewish identities and hide their connection to Israel.
Since Oct. 7, terms like “apartheid,” “genocide” and “Zionism equals racism” are increasingly thrown around casually, often without a nuanced understanding of their impact or the realities they oversimplify. This rhetoric not only alienates but also endangers Jewish queer people. It makes us feel emotionally unsafe. It increases the chances that we will be physically unsafe as well.
We must not allow the Israel-Palestine conflict to be imported into Pride.
I will always remember the euphoria of the first Pride rally I attended. I was barely 18 years old, in a crowd of people of all ages, races, genders and gender orientations ā and they were like me. Queer. It felt safe. It was the first time I experienced that feeling of safety, and it will always stay with me.
Like Pride events everywhere, it was a vibrant, colorful space for LGBTQ people to celebrate our true authentic selves, without fear or reservation.
But that feeling of safety wasnāt shared by everyone in my small New England town. I soon noticed a few people scattered throughout the crowd wearing paper bags over their heads, with eye holes so they could see but not be seen. I later learned that those faceless people were teachers who, in those days before civil rights protections, needed to protect their identities and their careers.
They did not feel safe. Will Jews and those who are connected to Israel feel safe this year?
The history of Pride is a testament to courage in the face of adversity. It wasn’t long ago when attending Pride events was a defiant act against societal norms, where participants like those teachers faced tangible threats of discrimination, ridicule and even violence. Even today in some places, our queer community still navigates a gauntlet of hatred as we try to celebrate who we are.
It’s crucial to recognize that within the Jewish community, there is a wide spectrum of views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, including many who are deeply committed to advocating for Palestinian rights. In fact, many of the 1,200 innocent Israelis murdered on Oct. 7 were Zionists who devoted their lives to reconciliation and peace with their Arab neighbors.
We are at a pivotal moment, one that demands action: What can we do to ensure Pride remains a safe space for everyone, including Jewish participants?
It’s imperative that Pride committees around the country proactively address these concerns. They must implement training programs focused on de-escalation and fostering an environment of understanding and respect.
As individuals who stand in solidarity with the values of Pride, each of us must consider our role in this effort. Will you march alongside those of us who feel vulnerable, offering your presence as a shield against intolerance? Will you engage in dialogues that challenge the importation of external conflicts into Pride, advocating instead for a celebration that unites rather than divides?
The true test of inclusivity at Pride lies not merely in welcoming a diverse crowd, but in ensuring that every participant feels safe and valued. If we remain indifferent to the vulnerabilities faced by Jewish queer people this Pride season, we will fall short of the very ideals of inclusivity and solidarity that Pride stands for.
Just as we expect schools to protect trans and nonbinary students like Nex Benedict, we have a responsibility in the LGBTQ community to ensure that people can carry an Israeli flag or a Palestinian flag, wear a yarmulke or a hijab and be safe.
As we look forward to this year’s Pride, let us commit to making it a space where safety is not a privilege afforded to some but a right enjoyed by all. Let’s engage with our local Pride committees, advocate for comprehensive safety measures and stand in solidarity with those who feel at risk.Ā
Only then can we celebrate the true spirit of Pride, rooted in love, acceptance and the unwavering belief in equality for all.
Ethan Felson is the executive director of A Wider Bridge.
Opinions
How to protect your sobriety on St. Patrickās Day
Celebrate with a supportive friend and carry a mocktail
Sobriety can be challenging, whether you overcame alcohol or drug addiction or chose to abstain from alcohol for a healthier life. Holidays like St. Patrickās Day can serve as a reminder of the past or could be looked at as another day.
Many celebrate St. Patrickās Day sober, as there are generally family-friendly gatherings, community events, or even sober celebrations. If you have concerns about your sobriety, there are practical tips you can use to protect it on St. Patrickās Day.
For instance, remind yourself why you are sober, and donāt do it alone. You can still have fun and celebrate but do it with other sober people. Everyone has their reasons for stopping drinking; remind yourself of those reasons and hold yourself accountable.
Know your triggers; it doesnāt matter if you are a recovering addict or have removed alcohol from your life. Be cautious around possible triggers that pose a challenge. Most people in this situation choose to skip the bar and find something fun to do or go to a sober St. Patrickās Day celebration.
Keep a non-alcoholic drink or mocktail in your hand. People will not bother you to ask if you want a drink if you already have something to sip on, like a mocktail. This also leads to planning how to say no. You will encounter social pressure if you go to a bar on St. Patrickās Day. Itās unavoidable. Itās wise to practice ways to refuse alcohol.
Finally, if all else fails, take a walk outside if you feel overwhelmed. The most straightforward solutions are usually the best. Remove yourself from any situation you know will lead to relapse. This is also why itās essential to be with a sober friend or loved one; there is accountability and someone to lean on.
The benefits of being sober are plentiful, along with the numerous health perks, such as better quality sleep, more mental alertness, and lessened anxiety or depression. Yet, there is one benefit that is not necessarily always spoken about.
Being sober on St. Patrickās Day or any day removes all chances of impaired driving. Unfortunately, days that promote heavy alcohol use may increase the chances of drunk or drugged driving. For example, in Washington State, impaired driving has been involved in roughly half of fatal crashes for decades. In 2022, 52% of traffic fatalities involved an impaired driver, according to the Traffic Safety Commission.
Moreover, drivers ages 21 to 30 make up one-third of impaired drivers in fatal crashes, and another 20% are ages 31 to 40. If you are celebrating St. Patrickās Day sober, take the necessary precautions and look out for one another. If you choose to consume alcohol, drink responsibly, know your limits, and do not drink and drive.
-
Commentary4 days ago
Sexting with younger guy has me asking: How queer am I?
-
Commentary5 days ago
What will you do to make Pride safe this year?
-
Texas4 days ago
Pornhub blocks Texas accessing site over age verification law
-
Africa3 days ago
Burundi’s president reiterates LGBTQ people should be stoned in a stadium