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Let this be our finest hour

Can the virus change queer D.C. for the better?

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blitz, gay news, Washington Blade

I’ve been trying to read more during this whole thing. I mean, what else do we have to do, right? So, I’ve picked up Erik Larson’s new book on World War II, England, and the Blitz, The Splendid and the Vile. In his usual quick and punchy prose, Larson talks about how the Nazi terror bombing of London had the almost singular purpose of breaking British morale. But, surprisingly, it had the opposite effect.

I was thinking about this time in history, hold up here in my little Adams Morgan condo for one. Sure, we don’t have bombs screeching down on us or anything. But we also don’t have the booming voice of a Churchill-like leader coming through the airwaves to reassure us, either.

If the Blitz was a test of British resolve, how is this virus testing us? Granted, we’ve established a pretty good blueprint for how community can coalesce and even grow in hard times. So there’s that. And like then, one of the most striking ways our community is coming together is the forging of healthier connections to friends. I think we’ve always been a bit more sensitive to this than most, assembling our ‘chosen families’ among fellow misfits in the cities we pick out from a map of queer locales.

But now, with social media and technology to assist us, we have everything from virtual happy hours, bookclubs, even show tune nights courtesy of 17th Street’s JR’s Bar. But it’s not just the recreation of social events that I find reassuring, it’s the checking in on each other. It’s the friends turning to each other with the sincere asking of how you are doing. That social distance doesn’t have to mean an emotional distance between people. That is, even though I can’t see you, I still very much care about you.

Beyond the one-on-one connections, there’s also just a greater sense of community. All in good fun and a lighthearted sense of laugh-or-else-you’d-cry resolve, I’m reminded again of the Blitz and how one bombed out West End restaurant hung a sign out front reading, ‘We are WIDE open.’ I live in Adams Morgan, and my neighborhood bars and eateries are responding similarly. One of my favorite haunts, the Duplex Diner, had local drag queen Goldie Grigio serving up signature squeezes and her usual sass from the window. The line was down the street. All six feet apart, of course. The Duplex was even advertising in the window something called ‘DC Restaurant Bonds’ featuring a picture of World War II icon Rosie the Riveter.

Beyond the personal touch and the connections to our neighborhoods, this could lend itself to a greater appreciation for our city. If we are really yet to peak here in D.C., and as we begin the summer beach trips and such, we might just remember how beautiful this city can be. A solo bike ride through Rock Creek Park on Sunday reminded me how fortunate we truly are to have the green spaces we do. And though we’d all like to feel sand under our toes sooner rather than later, we can get sun on our faces in the city in a variety of ways and in a variety of places. All while practicing social distancing, of course.

Having lived in England for a few years, I can tell you that the Blitz and that “keep calm and carry on” attitude are a real source of pride for them, even 80 years later. Maybe how gay D.C. deals with these trying times will prove to be a source of future pride for our community? One can hope. And all signs currently point to yes.

So, what else do we have to do during this time? Well, turns out, quite a lot. So, let’s laugh, let’s check in on each other, check in on our city, and make ourselves proud.

Brock Thompson is a D.C.-based writer. He contributes regularly to the Blade.

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Club Q another example of how anti-LGBTQ rhetoric leads to the death of queer, trans folks

The LGBTQ community deserves to feel safe from hate and violence

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It was 7:15 a.m. and I had just landed after traveling across the country from working with my military unit. My phone started ringing. “Did you see it? and “How are you feeling?” were the messages that started pouring in. Then I saw the news: “Colorado Springs LGBTQ+ Club Q Shooting.” I was struck with the same feeling I had seeing the aftermath of the 2016 Pulse nightclub shooting – fear and horror.

In 2016, I was still struggling with finding enough self-love to share my sexual identity. I vividly remember watching my parents’ television as the details of the shooting rolled in. I felt like coming out would put me at risk for further hate and unfathomable violence. For those who do not have a strong support system, small online acts of hateful rhetoric can deter someone from their journey to acceptance and happiness. At that moment, I was too young to understand the full extent of these actions but one thing was perfectly clear – the LGBTQ+ community is hated for simply existing.

I’m a soldier in the U.S. Army. I choose to put on the uniform to help protect the people of our country and at times, the hateful actions committed by fellow Americans has made me feel powerless. The idea of a “war zone” should only be familiar to soldiers like myself, not children in a school or people looking to have a fun night with their friends at a bar or club.

A few times over the past 24 hours, I found myself pondering the same question: “How can the sheer existence of queer and trans people be viewed as such a threat to others that they resort to murder?” The simple answer is that our society has allowed for this type of rhetoric to receive attention and sometimes even praise. As a result, five people in Colorado Springs were killed and 25 injured at an LGBTQ nightclub, Club Q. In a heroic attack, two unarmed citizens inside the club stopped the gunman to protect others. These men were not armed with heavy weaponry, but rather a will to live and bravery in their hearts. If these civilians were able to act so quickly here, I wonder why the police had to wait for more than an hour to intervene in Uvalde.

Many Americans are now numb to the news of gun violence. For the past few years, we have watched our lawmakers stand impotently and choose their political party over protecting human beings. Sandy Hook seemed unimaginable and like a bad dream. When we saw that there was little action taken by lawmakers in the wake of six-year-old children being slaughtered in their elementary school classrooms, my heart was shattered. Today, nearly a decade later, there has been little to no movement on legislation to combat horrific gun violence. Instead of Congress taking action, American people have witnessed more than 27 additional mass shootings in schools alone and thousands more injured and/or killed.

From Pulse, to Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas’ remarks on Obergefell vs. Hodges, to book bans (including one in my hometown), to the “Don’t Say Gay” bill being proposed nationally, I am worried that we are being pushed backwards in time. More than 340 anti-LGBTQ bills were introduced this year and there have been more than a dozen attacks on our community. This mass shooting came on the eve of Transgender Day of Remembrance, directly threatening the safety and existence of those who are simply trying to be themselves. In the recent midterm elections, candidates ran on anti-LGBTQ platforms, categorized members of our community as “groomers,” and directly invalidated our existence. Although they did not pull the trigger, these politicians have ignited bigotry and homophobia to the point where their words are now weaponized.

These survivors are now going to be faced with mental health struggles, likely including post-traumatic stress, which will directly affect their daily lives. Over the past few years, I have had the opportunity to work with those struggling from traumatic experiences by using sound bytes to counteract feelings of fear and anxiety. Through my work in this field, I know the mental journey that these Club Q survivors are about to endure. I hope that anyone who is struggling knows that there are resources out there to help.

Today, I use my voice as an activist to work with victims of gun violence and those in the LGBTQ+ community who have been affected by hateful actions to remind people that we are human – just like them. The families of gun violence deserve better. The LGBTQ+ community deserves to feel safe from hate and violence. Children’s families deserve better. We as humans deserve better. We want effective policy and change over “thoughts and prayers.” The louder we resist, the weaker hate and fear become.

Brian Femminella is a Gen-Z LGBTQ+ activist and tech entrepreneur. He is an outspoken voice in the queer and trans community, including through his work in the military as an Army Officer.

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My suicide ideation: A journey to self-love

It is much harder for those of us on the margins

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Jessica Arends is a writer who lives in Hyattsville, Maryland.

(Editor’s note: This piece is a response to last week’s Blade cover story by David Lett recounting his suicide attempt. If you are experiencing suicidal ideation, call 988 or one of many LGBTQ-specific advocacy groups offering support. If you would like to share your own story of overcoming isolation, depression, or suicidal ideation, email us at [email protected].)

Perhaps it was the grinding loneliness of the pandemic, but about two years ago my fantasies of being with women became daily distractions. I could not be fully present with my husband and felt a constant tug for something more, something outside of a life I had spent 18 years cultivating. I lived in a constant cycle of fantasy, guilt, denial, back to fantasy.  

My supportive husband was willing to try an open marriage, but non-monogamy did not agree with my Christian upbringing. Then, as most stories go, I met someone. She was funny, attractive, and OK with the situation, so we gave it a shot. Each date sailed me up into unprecedented heights and hollowed out an equally deep pit of despair. “Yes! I am like this. . . Oh, dear God, I am really like this!” It was like coming home to who you knew you always were only to find you were now among those most judged, wicked, and despised. With each queer book we read and lesbian drama we watched, I discovered deep and integral parts of me debilitated and atrophied by shame. They started to heal.

The more these parts of me solidified, the more other parts unraveled. A cascade of questions and doubts plagued me. If I was not heterosexual, what else was not true about me? Was my life just a string of acts meant to fulfill social expectations? My career, education, even my friends. Was I me or just performing someone not me for others? The great irony of living by the rules of others is that we live for no one. Without the willingness to bravely share who I truly was, no matter how broken, that primal quest for connection, love and belonging would never be satisfied.

Hence I navigated that precarious path of how out to be — how to stay honest to myself but not cause discomfort. My husband remained open, but my late nights and emotional distance took a great toll on our relationship. I would return home to neatly folded laundry, well-prepared meals and enormous guilt. It was liberating and devastating all at once.

Staying with my husband seemed impossible, but the fear of being alone and rejected from family at age 45 was unbearable. This innate thing inside of me was destroying my life. I imagined cutting myself open and tearing out those parts, but when I looked closely I found they were inseparable — my queerness is fully entwined with my heart, head, and gut. I broke under the weight of this agony and spent weeks in and out of crying spells.

One day I found myself down by the tracks. The sound of a train thundering by broke through my numbness. With a few steps, I could surrender and be free from this torment. I stepped through the thin line of brush that separated me from the tracks. They seductively glistened in the sunlight. Relief. Yes, the final silence of death could take away everything.

Another train raced by, the horn deafening. The blast of wind pushed me away. I collapsed sobbing. I needed help if I was going to survive this. 

Thanks to therapy, acupuncture, yoga, LGBTQ support groups and caring friends and family, I am slowly opening the door to self-love. It is much harder for those of us on the margins. The love from others is no substitute, be they a long-time partner, new girlfriend or family member. Unlearning my self-hatred meant letting go of the deeply held but deeply flawed promises of the straight life: be they heteronormativity, monogamy, gender conformity, the picket fence  — you name it. I had to break my own heart. Only then I could truly love myself.

Jessica Arends is a writer and artist.

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Left-wing candidates hurt Democratic Party

We will lose more elections if we nominate socialists

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Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) ran for and lost the Democratic Party nomination for U.S. President. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

We are seeing time and time again how left-wing candidates are hurting the Democratic Party. While I agree with much of what some like Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.) are supporting, we are seeing left-leaning candidates supported by them losing in the general election in most of the country. 

While Trumpers are so much worse in what they stand for, the one similarity we are seeing, as we did in the mid-term elections, is these candidates also can’t win a general election.  The reality is, the majority of the country is moderate. In fact, in many areas the general election voter is moderate-leaning right.  

We witnessed that last year in the Buffalo, N.Y. mayor’s race where a Democratic Socialist won the Democratic primary, and then was defeated in the election by a write-in moderate Democrat. In New York City the moderate candidate, Eric Adams, won the mayor’s race. 

In the mid-term elections we have seen the same thing. A left-wing candidate can win a Democratic primary, then lose in the general election. James Hohmann recently wrote about this in the Washington Post in a column titled “The Democrats have a ‘candidate quality’ problem, too.” He wrote, “Consider the 5th Congressional District of Oregon. Leading Republican and Democratic operatives agree that Rep. Kurt Schrader would have handily won reelection if he’d made it to the general in a district Biden carried by nine points. But he didn’t. Instead, a more liberal Democrat, Jamie McLeod-Skinner, won the nomination in May and then lost the seat to Republican Lori Chavez-DeRemer last week by 8,500 votes.” Another example he uses is “Rep. Henry Cuellar (D-Texas) narrowly beat back a primary challenge from his left in the primary and then easily won in the fall. In a neighboring district of the Rio Grande Valley, however, outspoken liberal Michelle Vallejo beat a moderate by just 30 votes in a primary runoff. Then she lost to Republican Monica De La Cruz by nine points. The GOP picked up a number of seats in New York state under similar circumstances.” I would propose Alessandra Biaggi’s primary against Sean Patrick Maloney (D-N.Y.), supported by AOC, cost him the seat in the general election in the new 17th district in New York. 

It’s good that Rep. Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.), who will most likely be the new Minority Leader, is a moderate. There is a story on ABC News about the potential new leadership of the Democratic caucus in the House of Representatives. “Jeffries, first elected in 2012, has long been considered Pelosi’s heir apparent, rising through the ranks to land a perch in the party’s House leadership.”

In a statement after Pelosi’s speech on Thursday, he called her “the most accomplished” speaker in the country’s history but did not allude to his own plans. A 52-year-old descendant of enslaved people, Jeffries could be a potential history-maker himself if Democrats retake the House in future cycles: He would be the first Black speaker. Jeffries has a reputation as a capable operator inside the conference with sharp media skills to sell a Democratic message to the public (and a penchant for referencing Biggie Smalls in floor speeches). However, he could face some opposition from the most vocal progressives in the House, who labeled him a centrist. “I’m a Black progressive Democrat concerned with addressing racial and social and economic injustice with the fierce urgency of now. That’s been my career, that’s been my journey and it will continue to be as I move forward for however long I have an opportunity to serve. There will never be a moment where I bend the knee to hard-left democratic socialism,” he told The Atlantic last year.”

It could easily be concluded Democrats lost the Wisconsin Senate seat because the disgusting incumbent, Ron Johnson (R-Wisc.), could tie his Democratic challenger to the ‘Squad’ and bring up his original support of the slogan ‘defund the police’. While some will say newly elected Pennsylvania Sen. John Fetterman was also tagged with the left, he was lucky he had such a crazy Trump supported Republican like Dr. Oz to run against, and a moderate Democratic candidate for governor, Josh Shapiro, on the ticket who won big. 

If Democrats are to retake the House and win the presidency in 2024, we will need moderate congressional candidates and a moderate to head the ticket. He/she/they can be for moving forward legislation on climate change, LGBTQ equality, choice, and a host of other issues that progressives like; but they can’t be seen as left-wing or socialist. If they are, Democrats will lose. 

Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist. He writes regularly for the Blade.

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