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Generation Grit

America is only just beginning to understand its relationship to racism

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When I was eleven years old, my best friend was an 80-, perhaps 90-year-old woman named Myrtle Friedman. Myrtle lived alone next door, on Second Street in Hailey, Idaho. Her two-story green stucco house was perched on the corner, just two blocks from Main Street. I would tend to her rhubarb, weed her vegetable garden, and listen to her tell stories. Myrtle had lived through both wars and the Great Depression. I got paid in hard candy, which I enjoyed in her formal living room as she told me about her life.  In that room (my family certainly didn’t have a formal living room), I felt protected from the insecurity and chaos of my own house and the looming threat of the Cold War. 

It’s hard to imagine the same little girl sheltering from the world in Myrtle Friedman’s house would grow up to become the owner of a business that employs 52 souls, most of them much younger than me. Ever since Millennials entered the workforce a decade ago, I’ve been relying on their energy and ideas to build my business. Now I am eager to start hiring from Gen Z. 

It is long past the time to quit disparaging these resilient generations. Among the many lessons this week of righteous civic upheaval has brought, one is that young people are shifting the national discourse. As difficult as our current era is, it’s living through an era ripe for lifting up new ideas and fostering new leaders. Luckily for us, I believe we may be looking at the two greatest generations, back-to-back, that this country has ever seen.

In his national 2020 commencement speech, President Obama reminded the nation’s graduates “to be alive to one another’s struggles.” In other words: it’s not all about you. Having built a business with a team of emerging professionals, I’m here to tell you that my staff not only understands this message but knows how to live it. This is not the young workforce of the greed-is-good 1980s: for the most part they are innovative, scrappy and interested in a mission-based approach to work. The young people who have helped me build my company are akin to snowflakes only in their humble grasp of the fact that snow melts fast, and survival depends upon sticking together.

Nowadays I spend quite a bit of time contemplating how to keep a roof over everyone’s heads given “these times.”  Not only my employees but the thousands of others whose homes we manage. In the COVID eraToday, managing property is also a public health responsibility. And our sector’s role in the economy isn’t insignificant: property managers are tending to our nation’s real estate in the shadow of what we’re now apparently calling the Greater Depression.  As a community-oriented business leader, I’m not crazy about the hand we’ve been dealt. But these days, everyone needs to learn how to play with a new hand.

I often lie awake thinking about my endless Zooming, about how everyone’s office decor has been replaced by the domestic backdrops of their colleagues and customers.  We’re so far apart, yet we’re inviting each other into our homes every single day.  I am so intrigued by the differences and similarities that tie our work families together. We commiserate over one another’s stir-crazy kids in the background, slow-clap as cats get settled on keyboards, and enjoy more canine workmates than ever before (and there were a lot before). We’re all living out the irony of intimacy at a distance.

 If our company’s revenues flounder and we have to lay people off, who is going to pay my employees’ rent and mortgages?  Who’s going to feed their human and fur families? Certainly not the current administration, whose one-time checks are slow in coming and not nearly enough. We can expect no help from a reality TV star playing politics, a man who hasn’t experienced an empathetic moment in his life, nevermind a sleepless night over payroll. 

Like most small business owners, I’m no stranger to struggle. I’ve struggled in my personal life, but in a way, I’ve also struggled because I’m an American–I’ve struggled in the way each of us has been struggling all along, without really understanding that our struggles aren’t normal, or necessary. As a Gen-Xer, a member of the beleaguered lost generation, I have lived through, and felt existential stress about, The Cold War, the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, ketchup as a vegetable, 1980’s interest rates, AIDS, 9-11, and the great recession. For years I lived with the certainty that my family and I would be leveled, whether by a nuclear bomb or another layoff. But all this insecurity and uncertainty made me empathetic and gave me grit. 

Grit is currency in life, not to mention a requirement for small business owners in the U.S. In the end, our grit is what will get us through. Empathy is a requirement to be a decent human being, and in the end, our humanity is all we have. 

But when it comes to grit, my generation has nothing on Millennials, nevermind Gen Z, where opportunities are limited, and social anxiety is abundant. Our nation’s young people–the faces in my Zoom meeting grids–have come of age through 9/11, the great recession, crippling student loan debt, the housing market crash and now a global pandemic, and the highest unemployment rates the United States has ever seen, and a long-overdue national reckoning on race. We may as well be calling them Generation Grit. 

And yet, despite the historic struggles they’ve been through and are living every day, they’re also kind and empathetic: they understand that things are hard, they listen to and validate one another’s feelings, they grasp their role as citizens of the planet and defenders of justice, and frankly (thanks, I suspect, to those much-maligned helicopter parents), their emotional intelligence is off the charts. 

This combination of empathy and grit is why, when many in corporate America were busy writing off Millennials as lazy and self-centered, I doubled down on the  generation. It’s also why I’ll be first in line to start onboarding the graduates of 2020 and beyond.

 I’ve learned through years of experience–not to mention through the empathy of people like Myrtle Friedman, who bore gentle witness to my anxiety, that being alive to the struggles of others is not just a sign of a good human being but it’s also good for business. 

As an employer in COVID times, what’s my responsibility to the Millennials on my team, and to the Gen Z workers soon to be joining the workforce? How do I keep a formal living room open to them?  I want to provide this space not just for them but also for myself.  I am comforted by the vision and drive of today’s emerging generations: their determination and fearlessness give me hope for humanity. I see now that Myrtle must have felt much the same about me, a brooding girl with a vision for a better world. 

In 12 years, I’ve grown my property management business from a little adobe duplex that made me an accidental landlord, to a very intentional landlady running a family of companies that manage more than a billion dollars in assets. I’ve done it all within a corporate culture of empathy and emotional and social well-being. I’m glad to report I’ve seen a remarkable return on investment–unlike many in our field, we’re still standing strong, not to mention pivoting, innovating, adapting, and charging full speed ahead. 

Humanity is only at the beginning of this pandemic and, America is only just beginning to understand its relationship to racism. When we come out of this crisis, we’ll be facing a very different world. Let’s not treat Gen Z with suspicion and judgement, like we did to the Millennials.  My bet’s on their resilience, and their heart. Let’s give them some credit, and some respect. Let’s greet them with a loving embrace, capture their ideas, and welcome what will certainly be the grittiest generation in generations.  

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Opinions

New research shows coming out is still risky

A time of profound psychological vulnerability

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(Photo by Iryna Imago/Bigstock)

Coming out is often celebrated as a joyful milestone – a moment of truth, pride, and liberation. For many LGBTQ+ people, that’s exactly what it becomes. But new research I co-authored, published in the journal Pediatrics this month, shows that the period surrounding a young person’s first disclosure of their sexual identity is also a time of profound psychological vulnerability. It’s a fragile window we are not adequately protecting.

Using data from a national sample of lesbian, gay, and bisexual people, our study examined what happens in the years before and after someone comes out to a family member or a straight friend. We weren’t looking at broad lifetime trends or comparing LGBTQ+ youth to heterosexual peers. Instead, we looked within each person’s life. We wanted to understand how their own suicide risk changed around the moment they first disclosed who they are.

The results were unmistakable. In the year a person came out, their likelihood of having suicidal thoughts, developing a suicide plan, or attempting suicide increased sharply. Those increases were not small. Suicide planning rose by 10 to 12 percentage points. Suicide attempts increased by 6 percentage points. And the elevated risk didn’t fade quickly. It continued in the years that followed.

I want to be very clear about what these results mean: coming out itself is not the cause of suicidality. The act of disclosure does not harm young people. What harms them is the fear of rejection, the stress of navigating relationships that suddenly feel uncertain, and the emotional fallout when people they love respond with confusion, disapproval, or hostility.

In other words, young LGBTQ+ people are not inherently vulnerable. We make them vulnerable.

And this is happening even as our culture has grown more affirming, at least on the surface. One of the most surprising findings in our study was that younger generations showed larger increases in suicide risk around coming out compared to older generations. These are young people who grew up with marriage equality, LGBTQ+ celebrities, Pride flags in classrooms, and messaging that “it gets better.”

So why are they struggling more?

I think it’s, in part, because expectations have changed. When a young person grows up hearing that their community is increasingly accepted, they may expect support from family and friends. When that support does not come, or comes with hesitation, discomfort, or mixed messages, the disappointment is often devastating. Visibility without security can intensify vulnerability.

Compounding this vulnerability is the broader political environment. Over the last several years, LGBTQ+ youth have watched adults in positions of power debate their legitimacy, restrict their rights, and question their place in schools, sports, and even their own families. While our study did not analyze political factors directly, it is impossible to separate individual experiences from a climate that routinely targets LGBTQ+ young people in legislative hearings, news cycles, and social media.

When you’re 14 or 15 years old and deciding who to tell about your identity, the world around you matters.

But the most important takeaway from our study is this: support is important. The presence, or absence of family acceptance is typically one of the strongest predictors of whether young people thrive after coming out. Research consistently shows that when parents respond with love, curiosity, and affirmation, young people experience better mental health, stronger resilience, and lower suicide risk. When families reject their children, the consequences can be life-threatening.

Support doesn’t require perfect language or expertise. It requires listening. It requires pausing before reacting out of fear or unfamiliarity. It requires recognizing that a young person coming out is not asking you to change everything about your beliefs. They’re asking you to hold them through one of the most vulnerable moments of their life.

Schools, too, have an enormous role to play. LGBTQ+-inclusive curricula, student groups, and clear protections against harassment create safer environments for disclosure. 

Health care settings must also do better. Providers should routinely screen for mental health needs among LGBTQ+ youth, especially around the time of identity disclosure, and offer culturally competent care.

And as a community, we need to tell a more honest story about coming out. Yes, it can be liberating. Yes, it can be beautiful. But it can also be terrifying. Instead of pretending it’s always a rainbow-filled rite of passage, we must acknowledge its risks and surround young people with the support they deserve.

Coming out should not be a crisis moment. It should not be a turning point toward despair. If anything, it should be the beginning of a young person’s journey toward authenticity and joy.

That future is possible. But it depends on all of us – parents, educators, clinicians, policymakers, and LGBTQ+ adults ourselves – committing to make acceptance a daily practice.

Young LGBTQ+ people are watching. And in the moment they need us most, they must not fall into silence or struggle alone.


Harry Barbee, Ph.D., is an assistant professor at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health. Their research and teaching focus on LGBTQ+ health, aging, and public policy. 

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Letter-to-the-Editor

Candidates should pledge to nominate LGBTQ judge to Supreme Court

Presidential, Senate hopefuls need to go on the record

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U.S. Supreme Court (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

As soon as the final votes are cast and counted and verified after the November 2026 elections are over, the 2028 presidential cycle will begin in earnest. Polls, financial aid requests, and volunteer opportunities ad infinitum will flood the public and personal media. There will be more issues than candidates in both parties. The rending of garments and mudslinging will be both interesting and maybe even amusing as citizens will watch how candidates react to each and every issue of the day.

There is one particular item that I am hoping each candidate will be asked whether in private or in public. If a Supreme Court vacancy occurs in your potential administration, will you nominate an open and qualified LGBTQ to join the remaining eight?

Other interest groups on both sides have made similar demands over the years and have had them honored. Is it not time that our voices are raised as well? There are several already sitting judges on both state and federal benches that have either been elected statewide or approved by the U.S. Senate.

Our communities are being utilized and abused on judicial menus. Enough already! Challenge each and every candidate, regardless of their party with our honest question and see if honest answers are given. By the way … no harm in asking the one-third of the U.S. Senate candidates too who will be on ballots. Looking forward to any candidate tap dancing!

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Opinions

2026 elections will bring major changes to D.C. government

Mayor’s office, multiple Council seats up for grabs

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(Washington Blade file image by Aram Vartian)

Next year will be a banner year for elections in D.C. The mayor announced she will not run. Two Council members, Anita Bonds, At-large, and Brianne Nadeau, Ward 1, have announced they will not run. Waiting for Del. Norton to do the same, but even if she doesn’t, there will be a real race for that office. 

So far, Robert White, Council member at-large, and Brooke Pinto, Council member Ward 2, are among a host of others, who have announced. If one of these Council members should win, there would be a special election for their seat. If Kenyon McDuffie, Council member at-large, announces for mayor as a Democrat, which he is expected to do, he will have to resign his seat on the Council as he fills one of the non-Democratic seats there. Janeese George, Ward 4 Council member, announced she is running for mayor. Should she win, there would be a special election for her seat. Another special election could happen if Trayon White, Ward 8, is convicted of his alleged crimes, when he is brought to trial in January. Both the Council chair, and attorney general, have announced they are seeking reelection, along with a host of other offices that will be on the ballot.  

Many of the races could look like the one in Ward 1 where at least six people have already announced. They include three members of the LGBTQ community. It seems the current leader in that race is Jackie Reyes Yanes, a Latina activist, not a member of the LGBTQ community, who worked for Mayor Fenty as head of the Latino Affairs Office, and for Mayor Bowser as head of the Office of Community Affairs. About eight, including the two Council members, have already announced they are running for the delegate seat.

I am often asked by candidates for an endorsement. The reason being my years as a community, LGBTQ, and Democratic, activist; and my ability to endorse in my column in the Washington Blade. The only candidate I endorsed so far is Phil Mendelson, for Council chair. While he and I don’t always agree on everything, he’s a staunch supporter of the LGBTQ community, a rational person, and we need someone with a steady hand if there really are six new Council members, out of the 13. 

When candidates call, they realize I am a policy wonk. My unsolicited advice to all candidates is: Do more than talk in generalities, be specific and honest as to what you think you can do, if elected. Candidates running for a legislative office, should talk about what bills they will support, and then what new ones they will introduce. What are the first three things you will focus on for your constituents, if elected. If you are running against an incumbent, what do you think you can do differently than the person you hope to replace? For any new policies and programs you propose, if there is a cost, let constituents know how you intend to pay for them. Take the time to learn the city budget, and how money is currently being spent. The more information you have at your fingertips, the smarter you sound, and voters respect that, at least many do. If you are running for mayor, you need to develop a full platform, covering all the issues the city will face, something I have helped a number of previous mayors do. The next mayor will continue to have to deal with the felon in the White House. He/she/they will have to ensure he doesn’t try to eliminate home rule. The next mayor will have to understand how to walk a similar tightrope Mayor Bowser has balanced so effectively. 

Currently, the District provides lots of public money to candidates. If you decide to take it, know the details. The city makes it too easy to get. But while it is available, take advantage of it. One new variable in this election is the implementation of rank-choice voting. It will impact how you campaign. If you attack another candidate, you may not be the second, or even third, choice, of their strongest supporters. 

Each candidate needs a website. Aside from asking for donations and volunteers, it should have a robust issues section, biography, endorsements, and news. One example I share with candidates is my friend Zach Wahls’s website. He is running for United States Senate from Iowa. It is a comprehensive site, easy to navigate, with concise language, and great pictures. One thing to remember is that D.C. is overwhelmingly Democratic. Chances are the winner of the Democratic primary will win the general election. 

Potential candidates should read the DCBOE calendar. Petitions will be available at the Board of Elections on Jan. 23, with the primary on June 16th, and general election on Nov. 3. So, ready, set, go! 


Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.

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