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Una tarde con Yariel

Ha permanecido bajo custodia de ICE por casi un año

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River Correctional Center en Ferriday, Luisiana, el 1 de febrero de 2020. (Foto de Michael K. Lavers por el Washington Blade)

Nota del editor: Una versión de esa nota de opinión en inglés salió en el sitio web del Blade el 4 de febrero.

FERRIDAY, Luisiana — Un guardia masculino al River Correctional Center, un centro de detención privado en el Condado Concordia en Luisiana, me llevó a la sala de visitantes un poco después de la 1 p.m. el sábado. Me senté en una mesa grande —como las que se pueden encontrar en una cafetería de la escuela— y miré a las murallas con mensajes de empoderamiento que habían sido pintados en la pared. Unos minutos después, miré hacía la puerta con una pequeña ventana y vi a Yariel, que vestía un traje verde de rayas. Otro guardia masculino abrió la puerta y Yariel entró la sala. Nos abrazamos fuertemente unos segundos después. Estaba casi sollozando, pero Yariel me aseguró que estaba bien. Después de un par de minutos, nos sentimos en la mesa —uno frente al otro— y empezó nuestra visita. Usé una de las servilletas que tomé de una gasolinera cercana para limpiar las lágrimas de mis ojos. Después de un par de minutos, puse sus manos en las mías y comenzó a llorar. Le di una de las servilletas de la gasolinera para limpiar sus ojos y traté de consolarlo.    

“Esta bien llorar”, lo aseguré.

No había visto a Yariel en persona desde el 27 de enero de 2019. Habíamos pasado el día reportando desde un albergue de migrantes dirigida por una lesbiana en Mexicali, una ciudad mexicana en la frontera con EEUU, y lo dejé al apartamento pequeño en Tijuana en que vivía con su padre. Estábamos casi mareados, en parte, porque habíamos cantado canciones de Lady Gaga como locos durante el viaje de dos horas entre Mexicali y Tijuana. Esos momentos despreocupados parecen de toda la vida.

Yariel el sábado me dio dos regalos: Una pulsera hecha de piezas de bolsas de basura negras y blancas y un zapatillo hecho de paquetes de Maruchan y envoltorios de crema de café que hará un buen ornamento navideño. Hablamos como amigos, como hermanos. Hablamos sobre Cuba y el juicio político del presidente Trump. Lo compré una botella de Sprite de una máquina expendedora en la sala. También compartimos una bolsa de Doritos. Una guardia femenina que habla español estaba en la sala con nosotros. Al principio estuve un poco incómodo de verla escribiendo en un cuaderno, pero después de unos minutos olvidé que estaba allí.

La pulsera que Yariel dio a Michael K. Lavers, el editor de los temas internacionales del Washington Blade, durante su visita al River Correctional Center en Ferriday, Luisiana, el 1 de febrero de 2020. (Foto de Michael K. Lavers por el Washington Blade)

A las 2:50 p.m., nos dijo en español que nuestra visita iba a terminar en 10 minutos. Yariel quería darme dos carpetas con sus escritos sobre su tiempo bajo custodia del Servicio de Inmigración y Control de Aduanas (ICE), pero la guardia lo dijo que no podría tomarlas conmigo. Yariel había colocado la pulsera alrededor de mi muñeca y un supervisor dijo a la guardia que podría llevar el ornamento conmigo. Los puse, junto con su foto del tamaño de un pasaporte, en mi mano. Nos pusimos de pie y nos abrazamos fuertemente. Lo dije que lo quiero y luego salimos por puertas diferentes. Salí por la puerta principal de la instalación menos de cinco minutos después y regresé a mi hotel en Kenner, un suburbio de Nueva Orleans, a las 6:45 p.m.     

Ha pasado casi un año desde que Yariel pidió asilo en EEUU y entró la custodia de ICE. Los lectores del Washington Blade saben que un juez el pasado septiembre concedió asilo a Yariel. También saben que su destino está en las manos de la Junta de Apelación de Inmigración en Virginia porque ICE apeló el fallo.

Hay cierta ironía en el hecho que Yariel comenzó escribir para el Blade en el otoño de 2018, en parte, porque necesitábamos un reportero en Tijuana que pudiera reportar sobre los migrantes LGBTQ que llegaban a la ciudad con las caravanas migratorias de Centroamérica. La cobertura del Blade de estos temas continua, con mi más reciente viaje a Honduras y El Salvador que terminó hace seis días antes de mi visita con Yariel. Esta cobertura sigue siendo tan importante como siempre con la política migratoria de línea dura de la administración Trump continúan poniendo en riesgo a los migrantes LGBTQ.   

También se convierte en algo profundamente personal.

Yariel entrevistá a una migrante mexicana durante una visita a un albergue de migrantes dirigida por una lesbiana en Mexicali, México, el 27 de enero de 2019. (Foto de Michael K. Lavers por el Washington Blade)

Mi esposo y yo el viernes, unas horas antes de volar a Luisiana, asistieron una ceremonia en Durham, Carolina del Norte, donde nuestro querido amigo Marcelo se convirtió en ciudadano estadounidense. Marcelo, un bailarín para el Carolina Ballet de origen paraguayo, trabajaba muy duro para llegar a ese momento y estamos muy orgullosos de él.

Una pancarta en una oficina local del Servicio de Ciudadanía e Inmigración de Estados Unidos (USCIS) en Durham, Carolina del Norte, el 31 de enero de 2020. Cincuenta y siete personas se convirtieron ciudadanos estadounidenses durante una ceremonia de naturalización que se realizó esa día. (Foto de Michael K. Lavers por el Washington Blade)

Uno de los momentos más memorables de la ceremonia fue el video en que Trump felicitó a Marcelo y los otras 56 personas que acababan de convertirse en ciudadanos estadounidenses. Ninguno de ellos aplaudió al final del video. Ellos, junto con el resto de nosotros, saben mierda cuando la escuchan, y todos respondimos en especie.

Estos ciudadanos estadounidenses, junto con Yariel, son exactamente el tipo de personas que harán una contribución positiva a este país y lo hará aún mejor. Merecen nuestro respeto y apoyo, no retorica barata basada en racismo, xenofobía y supremacía blanca para apaciguar una base política antes de una elección presidencial.

Una de las partes más desgarradoras de mi visita con Yariel fue cuando me dijo que más desea es su libertad que lo permitirá empezar una nueva vida en los EEUU sin miedo de persecución. La lucha para hacer realidad el sueño de Yariel sigue. Espero que mi próximo viaje a Luisiana sea recogerlo después de la Junta de Apelaciones de Inmigración confirme su decisión de asilo y ICE finalmente lo libere de su custodia.   

Siempre estaré a tu lado, Yariel.

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The White House

From red carpet to chaos: A first-person narrative of the WHCD shooting

The Blade’s WH correspondent Joe Reberkenny recounts his night at the WHCD after a shooter attempted to gain entry.

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The International Ballroom at the Washington Hilton during the WHCD. (Washington Blade photo by Joe Reberkenny)

It started as any White House Correspondents’ Dinner is supposed to go—I assume. I’ve never been to one before this, but based on other events I’ve attended at the Hilton, including an HRC gala, it all seemed fairly normal.

There was a lot of traffic. Police had blocked off streets encompassing a large portion of Adams Morgan—particularly around the hotel. The president was making his first appearance after boycotting the event during his first term, so there was a sense of anticipation. It took me about 45 minutes to go just under a mile from my apartment to about three blocks from the hotel in my Uber. I waited until the last possible second before I felt like I was going to be late—6:30—to get out of the car, because it was raining and I was wearing my green tux.

I walked up to a group of people checking tickets at the base of the hotel. They seemed to just be glancing at the tiny, index-card-sized tickets rather than conducting any kind of full security screening outside. As I walked from that first checkpoint to the drive-around drop-off area, I joined what was essentially one long line for the red carpet. It eventually split into people who wanted photos and those who didn’t—but again, there was no real need to show anything beyond that small ticket upon entering, and even that wasn’t being checked closely.

 A light went off in my head; I felt that, given the speed at which security was checking tickets, they couldn’t fully see the foil logo and tiny table numbers from that distance. I remember thinking that if I had a similarly sized piece of paper, I could have gotten through up to that point.

I also noticed there was no real security checkpoint or metal detectors upon initially entering the hotel grounds—unlike what I had seen at the HRC gala the year before.

I waited about 35 minutes in line in the car drop-off area—without cars, since it had been repurposed to corral press and their guests before entering the building and heading onto the red carpet. I took my photo, then went up the escalator to meet my date, Jacob Bernard from Democracy Forward. They wouldn’t let him onto the red carpet without his ticket, so I gave him his, which I had been holding. He was already inside the venue despite not having his ticket on him and had been at one of the pre-parties. 

That also struck me as odd—that you could access a pre-dinner party without a ticket or going through any visible security.

After I found him, we took a photo together at a step-and-repeat past the main red carpet area around 7:45. Oddly enough, a group of my friends—gays who I regularly see on the dance floors of the gay bars of Washington, who work in various government and media-adjacent fields—found me, and we took pictures together. None were White House correspondents or held a “hard pass” to the White House (security credentials that allow entry into the White House complex).

 Another light went off in my head that indicated party crashers probably shouldn’t be getting inside to an event that is supposed to be one of the most secure rooms in the country.

After the photos, I could see groups of people being moved from pre-party spaces in various meeting rooms on other floors and directed toward the main floor where the red carpet had been.

My guest and I went back up to the main floor and walked through a small security checkpoint that included only a handful of metal detectors. From there, I went down the stairs from the lobby into the International Ballroom, where we took our seats at Table 200. I talked to a few people I knew—very traditional pre-event chit-chat. The vibes felt good. It was my first time attending, and I was genuinely excited.

Around 8:15, the Marine Corps Band played and “Commandant’s Four” color guard presented the flags. We were then told to take our seats. 

They introduced the head table—the president, first lady, vice president, and members of the White House Correspondents’ Association board. Weijia Jiang, senior White House correspondent for CBS News and president of the WHCA, gave a brief speech, essentially saying we would eat first and then move into the main program, which was supposed to feature mentalist Oz Pearlman.

At this point my table, 200 which included members of the Wall Street Journal, the Blade, and a European outlet all started eating. About 15 minutes later, Washington Hilton staff began clearing plates and preparing to bring out the next course.

As they cleared the plates, I heard four loud bangs.

I saw hotel employees immediately start ducking. They seemed to understand the gravity of the situation much faster than most attendees, including myself. At first, it sounded like a tray might have fallen over (but I later found out that wasn’t the case).

After about 30 seconds of watching some people duck, others look around in confusion, and some continue eating and drinking, I got down. I kneeled with my chair in front of me as a kind of barrier. Being at Table 200, I felt somewhat removed from where the actual incident occurred.

Then I saw the president being whisked away quickly by Secret Service, along with the first lady and others at the head table.

My reporter instincts kicked in. I grabbed my phone and started filming. I saw SWAT team members rush into the ballroom and onto the stage, clearing the area. I captured a video of people looking around, confused about what had just happened.

A few minutes later, the room was told by the WHCA president to hold on—that they would provide more information and guidance on what would happen next. There was some indication that they might try to continue the event despite what had occurred.

Everyone started frantically checking X to see if any major outlets were reporting. I was receiving texts from family, friends, and colleagues about the rapidly unfolding situation.

I walked to the bathroom—twice, technically. I couldn’t find it initially because it was hidden behind black curtains. (Later, those curtains were removed, and the men’s room was in clearer view.)

During the first walk to the bathroom, I called my editor to tell him what was happening. He instructed me to start sending copy to another editor, who would get it online. The ballroom had almost no service—it’s in the basement of a 12-story hotel—so it was a challenge. I utilized SMS fallback (since iMessage wasn’t working) to send updates.

I returned to the table, where people were still hovering—calling editors, scrolling, texting, sending photos and copy. I was already drafting my story and sending it in chunks, adding details as I gathered more information.

I walked my guest toward the bathroom again, which was on the opposite side of the ballroom from our table, so I had to cross what felt like a sea of journalists, PR officials, guests, and others on their phones, talking and scrolling. My guest pointed out that the press pool was being held in an alcove away from the ballroom doors and escalator exit—not in the ballroom with everyone else.

“Alive” by the Bee Gees was playing over the speakers in the bathroom, which felt a little too on the nose.

On my way out, I heard someone speaking over a microphone and rushed to the ballroom entrance. WHCA President Weijia Jiang was speaking. She announced that the event was over and the space was being evacuated.

She also said that President Trump would hold a press conference at the White House in about 25 minutes.

That’s when I knew it was a race against the clock.

I called my editor a second time to update him and asked if I should head to the briefing (knowing the answer would be yes). He confirmed.

Then the crowd began to move. People grabbed purses, bottles—some left belongings behind. Even though it was technically becoming a crime scene, no one was actively forcing us out. It felt more like a collective understanding: It was time to go.

I texted my guest: “OK, I have to go to the White House. I’m so sorry to leave you.”

I made my way with the sea of people toward the one exit we were allowed to use and zipped between women in fancy gowns and men looking like penguins.

I put on my hard press pass, opened the Capital Bikeshare app, reserved the closest e-bike, and headed out. 

I walked up Columbia Road to 20th and Wyoming, grabbed the bike, and rode down Wyoming, then 18th, cut over to U Street, and went straight down 16th to the White House. That ride was exhilarating. I also filmed an Instagram Reel updating my followers on what was going on. I could see tourists and D.C. residents alike looking at me from their cars and the sidewalk, obviously confused as to why a man dressed in a tux had hopped on a bike.

I got off the bike where 16th Street meets Lafayette Square and darted toward the first White House security checkpoint, where they were verifying press credentials. Luckily, I had mine. After that, it turned into a mad dash. Everyone who made it through started moving quickly.

The sound of heels on what I think was cobblestone—or maybe brick—sticks with me. My own shoes were clacking as I ran toward the White House alongside other journalists in heels and dress shoes.

At the Secret Service checkpoint, there was a separate line for hard pass holders. Having my hard pass let me skip much of the impeccably dressed line of journalists who didn’t think to bring their hard pass with them.

It was probably the most exquisitely dressed press crowd I’ve ever seen—tuxedos, gowns, full makeup. It felt like something out of “The Hunger Games.”

I went through security, put my belongings through the metal detector, entered my code, grabbed my things, and ran to the briefing room.

(Washington Blade photo by Joe Reberkenny)

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BREAKING NEWS: Shots fired at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner

Shooter reportedly opened fire inside hotel

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(Washington Blade photo by Joe Reberkenny)

Four loud bangs were heard in the International Ballroom of the Washington Hilton during the annual White House Correspondents’ Dinner on Saturday.

According to the Associated Press, a shooter opened fire inside the hotel outside the ballroom.

Attendees could hear four loud bangs as people started to duck and take cover. During the chaos sounds of salad and glasses were dropped as hotel employees, and guests ducked for cover.

The head table — which included President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance, first lady Melania Trump, and White House Correspondents Association President Weijia Jiang — were rushed off stage.

“The U.S. Secret Service, in coordination with the Metropolitan Police Department, is investigating a shooting incident near the main magnetometer screening area at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner,” the U.S. Secret Service said in a statement. “The president and the First Lady are safe along all protects. One individual is in custody. The condition of those involved is not yet known, and law enforcement is actively assessing the situation.”

Trump held a press conference at the White House after he left the hotel.

“A man charged a security checkpoint armed with multiple weapons and he was taken down by some very brave members of Secret Service,” said Trump.

Trump said the shooter is from California. He also said an officer was shot, but said his bullet proof vest “saved” him.

D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser, interim D.C. police chief Jeffrey Carroll, U.S. Attorney for D.C. Jeanine Pirro, and other officials held their own press conference at the hotel.

Carroll said the gunman who has been identified as Cole Tomas Allen was armed with a shotgun, handgun, and “multiple” knives when he charged a Secret Service checkpoint in a hotel lobby. Carroll also told reporters that law enforcement “exchanged gunfire with that individual.”

Both he and Bowser said the gunman appeared to act alone.

“We are so very thankful to members of law enforcement who did their jobs tonight and made sure all guests were safe,” said Bowser. “Nobody else was involved.”

The Washington Blade will update this story as details become more available.

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District of Columbia

Community mourns passing of D.C. trans rights advocate SaVanna Wanzer

Acclaimed activist credited with founding D.C. Trans Pride

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SaVanna Wanzer (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

Three D.C.-based LGBTQ advocacy organizations released statements on April 24 announcing that highly acclaimed D.C. transgender rights advocate SaVanna Wanzer has passed away. 

A family member told the Blade that Wanzer died on Friday, April 24 of natural causes. She was 63.

Among other things, the advocacy groups noted that Wanzer is credited with being the lead founder of the D.C. Trans Pride and D.C. Black Trans Pride celebrations and events.

 “As a trailblazing transgender activist, educator, and founder of D.C. Trans Pride, D.C. Black Trans Pride, and May Is All About Trans, SaVanna created and led transformative transgender programming during D.C. Black Pride that ensured trans voices, stories, leadership, and lived experiences were centered, celebrated, and protected,” according to the statement from the Center for Black Equity, an LGBTQ organization.

“Her work was not just about representation, it was about liberation, community, and making sure Black Trans lives were honored in rooms, stages, policies, and movements that too often overlooked them,” the statement says.

In its own statement, the Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest LGBTQ advocacy organization, called Wanzer an icon of D.C.’s Black trans community and longtime leader in many LGBTQ organizations. 

“SaVanna Wanzer was a D.C. legend,” Tori Cooper, HRC’s Director of Strategic Outreach and Training, said in the statement. “She advocated for many years for the trans community and for people living with HIV, and served with many organizations, including D.C. Black Pride, Capital Pride, and NMAC [National Minority AIDS Council],” the statement adds.

“I can say firsthand that SaVanna will not just be missed for her work, but for her sisterly wisdom and her sense of humor,” Cooper said in the HRC statement.

In its own statement, Capital Pride Alliance, which organizes D.C.’s annual LGBTQ Pride events, called Wanzer a “trailblazer” in her role as founder of Capital Trans Pride, D.C. Black Trans Pride, and the May Is All About Trans events. It says she served on the Capital Pride Board of Directors 

“SaVanna was not just an advocate and community organizer but also a knowledge holder and elder voice in our movement,” the statement adds

In an undated statement on its website released before Wanzer’s passing, the D.C. group Food and Friends, which provides home-delivered meals to people in need, including people with HIV and cancer, says Wanzer had been one of its clients in the past. It says she had been living with heart problems since she was 16 and learned she had HIV in 1985 when she went to donate blood while working at the time for the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs. It also says she had diabetes, which was under control.

Among her many involvements, Wanzer also served as a volunteer for D.C.’s Whitman-Walker Health, which provides medical services for the LGBTQ community along with other communities. In 2015, Whitman-Walker selected  Wanzer as the first recipient of its Robert Fenner Urquhart Award for her volunteer services at Whitman-Walker for more than 20 years.

The Center for Black Equity appeared to capture the sentiment of those in the LGBTQ community who knew Wanzer in the concluding part of its statement on her passing.  

“Her vision continues to guide us,” it says. “Her courage continues to inspire us. Her impact will continue to live through every person, every Pride, and every space made more possible because she dared to lead,” it says. “Rest in power, SaVanna Wanzer. Your light remains with us.”

The family member said funeral arrangements are expected to be announced early next week. This story will be updated.

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