a&e features
Blind and queer and finding community
A look at the unique struggles, triumphs of the visually impaired

If you ask Gabriel Lopez Kafati, 43, if he’s out, he’ll tell you about his tattoos. One, above his shoulder, is a rainbow-colored equality sign. The tattoo on his right leg is the word “aequalitas” (the Latin word for “equality.”). In another tattoo, his first name is in Braille. “On my lower back, there’s a heart with an error,” he said in a phone interview, “the rest is best left to your imagination.”
Lopez Kafati is one of the members of the LGBTQ community who are queer and blind or visually impaired. There have always been people who are LGBTQ and blind. Yet, in telephone interviews, they told the Blade, they often feel “unseen” in the queer community.
(This reporter is queer and visually impaired.)
Twenty years ago, Blind Friends of Lesbians and Gays (BFLAG), became an affiliate of the American Council of the Blind (ACB), an advocacy group. In 2009, BFLAG’s name was changed to Blind LGBT Pride International (BPI).
Here are the stories of some of the people who have found their tribe in BPI.
BPI’s vice president, Leah Gardner, 44, who is lesbian and blind, lives in the Bay Area in California. “I grew up in a conservative part of New Hampshire,” Gardner said in a phone interview. “I came out as lesbian to my friends when I was 17.”
But, she didn’t come out about being blind until after she graduated from college. “I was mainstreamed in school,” she said, “I didn’t know a lot of other blind kids growing up.”
Gardner’s attitude began to change when she took a self-defense class and became friends with some of the other blind students. She went to her first ACB convention with them.
At the convention, there was a meeting of a group of LGBTQ blind people. They had the same dating woes and fears that Gardner had. “I was in a room with other queer blind people! I’d come home.”
People in the queer community are happy to see blind people as friends, but not as sexual, she said.
The Internet and social media have helped blind people connect to the LGBTQ community, Gardner said. But, “there’s still a chasm in terms of romance!”
Sarah Chung, 31, who’s queer and visually impaired, graduated from Adler University with a master’s degree in counseling in 2019. She was set to compete in judo in the Paralympics in Tokyo this summer. But, because of COVID-19, the Paralympics was canceled. Due to the pandemic, she hasn’t been able to find a job in counseling.
“It’s not easy,” says Chung, who uses a screen magnifier and “voice over” to read the screen on her phone, “employment’s so important.”
As a child of Korean parents, Chung found a hero in Margaret Cho. Chung, who identifies as non-binary came out recently to her Mom. Before that, she’d reached out to Asian-American, Pacific Islander Pride organizations. “They were incredibly helpful,” Chung said, “I’d no idea there were other queer Asian-Americans.”
Being queer and visually impaired made her feel somewhat alone. But, Chung said, “a friend invited me to join BPI.”
Since then, she’s met other LGBTQ blind people on BPI’s podcast “Pride Connection.” “It was great to meet folks from all over the nation,” Chung said.
How the queer community reacts to your being blind depends on the time, place and who you’re with, she said. Chung finds that LGBTQ bars can be disorienting if you’re blind. Because you can’t see non-verbal interactions or hear what people say over loud music.
“In bars, I’ll text my friends,” Chung said, “some view that as being uninterested. But, I’m doing that to get more information [about the surroundings and the people who are there]. To see through the eyes of my friends.”
Over the years, BPI has advocated on behalf of queer, blind people. The group urged the Library of Congress’s National Library Service for the Blind and Print Disabled to add an LGBTQ+ category to “talking books.” (The category was added to the Library’s main catalog in 2019 and appeared on BAARD, the program’s mobile app last summer.)
Blind people are vulnerable during the pandemic, BPI president Lopez Kafati said. If you’re blind, you can’t drive to get a COVID-19 test. If you’re visually impaired, you’ll need assistance if you go to get groceries.
To help blind people tell the media their pandemic stories, BPI developed Storytelling Camp. “We’re training them to make their points effectively,” Lopez Kafati said.
But BPI isn’t all work. It’s also for socializing and, sometimes, for romance.
Anthony Corona and Lopez Kafati met at a BPI mixer at ACB’s convention in 2019. The two have been together ever since.
Lopez Kafati, 43, was born in Honduras. He knew he was gay when he was in his mid 20s, but wasn’t fully out until he was 32. Lopez Kafati went to law school and worked as an attorney. But he began losing his vision from retinitis pigmentosa, a progressive eye disease. “I was convinced that I was the only person who was blind and gay in the world,” Lopez Kafati said.
He Googled “blind and gay.” “And BPI popped up,” he said. “It was life changing to find others who shared my experience.”
He came to the United States to enter rehab in Miami so he could learn to travel, work, and live independently as a blind person. Lopez Kafati earned an MBA from Barry University, and in 2015 he became a U.S. citizen. Today, he manages accommodations for students with disabilities at Miami Dade College.
“Often, gay people know so little about blindness,” Lopez Kafati said. “They think we can’t have sex!”
Gay men communicate so much non-verbally – through a wink or a nod – and he can’t see to respond. This makes Lopez Kafati feel excluded from the gay community.
“Gay friends almost make me feel like I’m charity,” he said, “like I have a gay blind friend who I help shopping. Not like, here’s a guy I want to date.”
When he went to his first ACB convention in 2012 and met other queer, blind people in the BPI suite, Lopez Kafati said to himself, “I’m home!”
Corona, 45, worked for the Associated Press for 10 years – on its East Coast arts and culture desk and later as an editor in its entertainment bureau. In 2011, he was in a white rafting accident. In March 16, he lost his vision 20 days after he contracted shingles. He was devastated by his loss. “I had to go through grief,” he said in a phone interview, “I’d enjoyed journalism. My life was good. Honey, I wasn’t lonely on any night!”
There were days when he didn’t want to live. Corona didn’t think there were other gay, blind men out there. He sought counseling. His love of life came back when he went to guide dog school and got Boaty, his guide dog. “He was born to guide!” Corona said.
Like others interviewed by the Blade, Corona says that many in the queer community don’t want to date blind people. Once, as an experiment, he went on a dating app. “When I didn’t disclose my blindness, I got hit up many times within an hour,” he said, “when I disclosed, I was lucky to get hit up even once in a day.”
Sometimes things, even sad things, happen for a reason, Corona said. On March 24, 2016, his vision was completely lost. On the same day, his father died. For three years, he spent every March 24 sobbing. But that changed after he and Lopez Kafati became a couple. “Gabriel’s birthday is March 24,” Corona said. “Now, I’m sad on the anniversary of the worst day of my life. But I’m happy because I’m celebrating the birthday of the love of my life!”

a&e features
Meet Mr. Christmas
Hallmark’s Jonathan Bennett on telling gay love stories for mainstream audiences
Jonathan Bennett believes there are two kinds of people in the world — those who love Hallmark movies and liars. And in Season 2 of Finding Mr. Christmas, which the Mean Girls star co-created with Ben Roy, Bennett is searching for Hallmark’s next leading man.
“It’s so fun for people because everyone in their life has someone they know that they think should be in Hallmark movies, right? The UPS driver, the barista at the coffee shop, the dentist,” Bennett says. “So we’re testing their acting abilities, we’re testing who they are, but we’re also looking for that star quality — the thing that makes them shine above everyone else. It’s almost something you can’t explain, but we know it when we see it.”
Season 2’s cast includes a former NFL player for the Green Bay Packers, a few actors, and a realtor. The 10 men compete in weekly festive-themed acting challenges, one of which included having to ride a horse and act out a scene with Alison Sweeney. The contestants were chosen from a crop of 360 potential men, and Bennett gives kudos to the show’s Emmy-nominated casting director, Lindsay Liles (The Bachelor, Bachelor in Paradise).
“She has a tough job because she has to find 10 guys that are going to be good reality television, but also have the talent to act, carry a scene, and lead a Hallmark movie eventually,” he says. To be the right fit for a Hallmark leading man, Bennett singles out five key characteristics: you have to be funny, charming, kind, have a sense of humor, and you have to do it all with a big heart.
Of course, Finding Mr. Christmas wouldn’t be Finding Mr. Christmas without its signature eye candy — something Bennett describes as “part of the job” for the contestants. “I can’t believe Hallmark let me get away with this. I dressed them as sexy reindeer and put them in harnesses attached to a cable 30 feet in the air, and they had to do a sexy reindeer photo shoot challenge,” he says with a laugh. “This season is just bigger and bolder than last. People are responding to not only all the craziness that we put them through, but also comparing and contrasting the guys in their acting scenes when we do them back-to-back.”
Season 1 winner Ezra Moreland’s career has been an early testament to the show’s success at finding rising talent. On seeing the show’s first winner flourish, Bennett says, “Now to watch him out in the world, just booking commercial after commercial and shining as an actor and a model, I think the show gave him the wings to do that. He learned so much about himself, and he took all that into his future auditions and casting. He just works nonstop. I’ve never seen an actor book more commercials and modeling gigs in my life.”
Bennett has been a star of plenty of Hallmark movies himself, including the GLAAD-award-winning The Groomsmen: Second Chances, which makes him a fitting host. Among those movies are 2020’s Christmas House, which featured the first same-sex kiss on the network and had a major impact on Bennett’s career as an openly gay man. “Hallmark’s been so great about supporting me in queer storytelling. But again, I don’t make gay movies for gay audiences. I make gay love stories for a broad audience, and that’s a huge difference, right? We’re not telling stories inside baseball that only the gay community will understand.”
He continues, “The backdrop of a Hallmark Christmas movie is very familiar to these people who watch. And so when you tell a gay love story, and you tell it no differently than a straight love story in that space, they’re able to understand. It’s able to change hearts and minds for people who might not have it in their lives.”
While Hallmark has become a major staple of Bennett’s career, he started off wanting to be a Broadway actor. And before the first season of Finding Mr. Christmas aired, Bennett took a break from TV to make his Broadway debut in Spamalot, replacing Michael Urie as Sir Robin and starring alongside Ethan Slater and Alex Brightman.
“That was my dream since I was five years old – then I booked a movie called Mean Girls, and everything kind of changes in your life. You no longer become a person pursuing Broadway, you become a part of pop culture,” Bennett recalls. “And to be honest, when I hit 40, I was like, ‘I’m probably never going to get to live that dream.’ And that’s okay, because I got to do other dreams and other things that were just as cool but different. So I honestly never thought it would happen.”
Bennett is still determined to make his way back on Broadway with the right role — he calls Spamalot the “best experience” of his life, after all — but he’s got another Hallmark show lined up with Murder Mystery House, which he co-created. The show was recently greenlit for development and intends to bring the Hallmark mystery movie to life. “It’s kind of like our version of The Traitors,” Bennett admits.
Looking back on both seasons, Bennett says that what makes Finding Mr. Christmas stand out in the overcrowded reality TV landscape is that everyone involved makes it with heart: “This isn’t a show where you’re going to watch people throw drinks in each other’s faces and get into big fights. The thing that has amazed me so much about this show, the more we’ve done it, is that every season, 10 guys come in as competitors, but they leave as a family and as brothers. That’s something you don’t get on any other network.”
Finding Mr. Christmas airs every Monday on Hallmark through December 20, with episodes available to stream on Hallmark+.
a&e features
Guillermo Diaz on his role as a queer, Latino actor in Hollywood
Shattering stereotypes and norms with long resume of roles
Actor Guillermo Diaz has been working hard in the entertainment industry for more than three decades. Proud of his heritage and queer identity, he has broken through many glass ceilings to have a prolific career that includes tentpole moments such as roles in the films Party Girl, Half Baked, and Bros, and in major TV shows like Weeds and Scandal, and even in a Britney Spears music video. This season, he made his feature-length directorial debut with the film Dear Luke, Love Me.
In an intimate sit-down with the Blade, Diaz shares that he attributes a lot of his success to his Cuban upbringing.
“Well, it prepared me to learn how to lie really well and be a good actor because it was a lot of acting like you were straight, back in the eighties and nineties (laugh). Another thing I learned from my Cuban immigrant parents is that they work super hard. They both had two jobs; we were latchkey kids, and I just saw them constantly working and wanting to provide for us by any means. So that was super instilled in me. That was the one thing that really stuck out that I admire and respect.”
Besides Diaz’s recurring roles on TV, his resume includes appearances in just about every genre of programming out there. If there is a major show out there, he was probably on it. Law and Order, Girls, The Closer, Chappelle’s Show, ER, Party of Five, and the list goes on. He’s accomplished more in his career thus far than most actors do in a lifetime. There is no doubt he is a hard worker.
“It’s a sign that I just loved to work, and it’s funny looking back at it now because you see all those things, but at the time it was just the next gig, the next job. I was just wanting to keep working and acting and learning and doing all that stuff. Then it sort of accumulates, and you look back and you’re like, damn! That’s a lot of stuff!”
Acting was never on Diaz’s radar until he was asked to fill in for a friend in a Beastie Boys medley for a talent show when he was a sophomore in high school.
“I did it and fell in love with it. I was teased a lot in high school. Then, when I did that performance, all those people who teased me were like, you were so great! So I looked at it initially as a thing of like, oh, this is where I’m accepted and people like me when I’m on stage. It’s kind of sad, too, because that’s what I latched onto. And then of course, I fell in love with the craft and performing and acting, but that initial rush was because all these people who were messing with me and teasing me all of a sudden liked me. And I was like, this is what I have to do.”
Little did Diaz know that he would break the mold when it came to stereotypical casting. When he first hit the industry, diversity and positive representation were not a thing in Hollywood.
“You just kind of accepted at the time. It was the early nineties. 90% of the time, it was playing a thug or a gun dealer, or a crack head – it was all bad guys, negative characters. But it was either that or not act and not be in anything. So you just kind of accept it, and then you have this sort of vision or hope that in the future it’s going to get better.
Diaz’s management was trepidatious about him playing gay roles for fear of being typecast. But Diaz did play a handful of gay roles early on, although he passed on But I’m A Cheerleader, which went on to become a gay cult classic. Diaz decided early on that he was not going to hide his sexuality. Diaz appeared in the film Stonewall. That was the defining point for him in sharing his identity.
“Being cast in that historical sort of dramatization of the 1969 Stonewall riots – I couldn’t believe I was in the midst that I was in the middle of doing this and playing the lead drag queen on the film. I just felt so honored, and I knew it was important, and I knew I needed to do a really good job. I thought, what a special moment this is. And it kicked my ass shooting that movie.
I remember after doing Stonewall, people saying, well, now you’re either going to have to make a choice if you’re going to lie, or if you’re going to just be honest, and you’re going to have to be out from now on if you’re going to be honest. And I was like, I’m not going to freaking lie. When they’d asked me, I would say I was gay. I think because I never tried to hide it, it didn’t become a thing. So people just kind of ignored it. It didn’t mess with me or my career. I don’t know. Or I just got lucky. I don’t freaking know.”
As a queer, Latin actor, Diaz is all too aware of what is happening politically and socially in the world towards minority communities. Does he think actors have a place in politics?
“For sure. I mean, we’re people first, right? Like, I hate when people sort of are like, oh, you’re an actor, shut up. I’m super political and outspoken, and I’m that guy who will say shit. I’m on the right side of history, at least. I’m not being complicit and silent. So, yeah, I think actors for sure have a place in politics. Absolutely.”
While directing was on Diaz’s radar, it wasn’t something that he was actively searching out. But as life would have it, his friend Mallie McCown sent him her script for Dear Luke, Love Me, a film she would play the lead in. Diaz was hooked.
“It was one of those scripts that I had to keep putting down every like 20 pages. I would put it down because I didn’t want it to end. It was so good. Originally, I was just going to come on as a producer of the film, and then the director dropped out, and then Mallie asked me if I was interested in directing. I was scared as shit. I had never directed a feature film. But I was like, it’s now or never.”
The film covers a decade of the friendship between Penny and Luke, covering themes of platonic love, asexuality, co-dependence, and self-identity. With most of the film focusing on just the two leads, Diaz has crafted an intimate and raw film. What is his message with the film?
“That love is complicated, but it’s beautiful and rewarding and worth all the heartache. I believe that. I don’t want to give away too much in the film either, but I think everyone can relate to it because there’s heartache and there’s pain, and there’s beauty and there’s love.”
And in looking at his past work and in looking toward his future career, what kind of legacy does Diaz want to build?
“That I broke some ground, that I knocked down some walls as an artist; I’m hoping that made a difference. It’s funny because when you’re in it, you’re not thinking about all this stuff that could possibly pave the way for other people. You’re just kind of moving along and living your life. But yeah, I would hope that I broke down some walls as a queer Latino.
I hope that people can sort of get something out of me trying to live as authentically as I can, just being my queer self. Hopefully, that helps someone along who is having some troubles being accepted or being comfortable with who they are.”
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Exhibit showcases trans, nonbinary joy in Maryland and Virginia
‘Becoming Ourselves’ proclaims that our lives are ‘expressions of divine creation’
Gwen Andersen was putting up posters for her photography exhibition “Becoming Ourselves” in and around Takoma Park shortly following the death of Nex Benedict. “Everybody’s heart was heavy,” the lesbian photographer said, “and I’m waltzing around town putting up these posters.” At a bookstore, she asked the person working at the front desk if she could put up one of the posters. They immediately looked at it more closely because of the trans flag, and said yes.
“When they read it and saw that it was something positive, beautiful, happy, they started to cry,” Andersen said, and she instinctively asked if she could give them a hug. With permission, she walked around the counter and embraced them — and in many ways, herself — in a world where negativity and violence takes aim at and harms the LGBTQ community. It was a powerful moment, she admitted, because “the first person didn’t even see the pictures.”
“That’s when I realized.” she said, “just how the idea of this is making an impact.”
“Becoming Ourselves” is an exhibition of 26 photos featuring happy and joyful trans and nonbinary adults and children that has been displayed at six different spaces of worship and one gallery in Maryland and Virginia. From the United Universalist Congregation of Rockville (UCCR) to its eighth spot that opened at the Sandy Springs Meeting House on Oct. 1, the exhibition originally started after Andersen’s friend Marian Bowden connected her with Sandra Davis, then president-elect for the Women’s Caucus of Art. Davis, seeing that Andersen had something critical to say during a time of intense anti-trans violence, became her mentor.
Andersen decided to host the exhibition at the UCCR based on the suggestions of her friend Rev. Jill McCrory, an affirming pastor and justice advocate, who along with Stevie Neal had previously invited Andersen to help found Montgomery County (MoCo) Pride. McCrory recommended UCCR and Davis shared that the church had their own hanging system, but for Andersen, their eager acceptance of the show sealed the deal.
“They were so happy to have been asked,” Andersen said. “They weren’t just consenting. They were wildly enthusiastic about it. I could not have had a better first place to host this.”
Rev. Dr. Rebekah Savage echoed this affirmation. Andersen approached her in October 2023 and from the very beginning, Savage acknowledged, we knew it would be a vital gift to congregants. Showcasing queer and trans people in spaces of worship, as the portraits hung in the Sanctuary during Sunday morning worship for Transgender Day of Visibility is critical, Savage explained, and it “does more than challenge exclusion,” Savage said. “It proclaims to the world that LGBTQ+ lives are sacred, beautiful, and an essential expression of the divine creation.”
“This visibility is both healing and life-saving, especially right now: for trans youth and families who need to know that there are faith communities ready to celebrate with them fully,” Savage continued. “Becoming Ourselves,” she said, visualized the leadership of our trans loved ones and held space for joy and celebration during times of intense violence. It has, Savage said, “become a beacon of hope, within our congregation and beyond, witnessing to the power of love, equality, and justice as sacred commitments.”
But there was a time crunch — the exhibition would open in March 2024, so all photos had to be taken by December 2023 and to her surprise, there was great interest in being part of the project. She had taken some photos already, but when a friend’s child asked if their friends could be part of it, they realized they would need extra enforcements to get the photos taken and processed in time for printing, so she connected with Salgu Wissmath, a nonbinary photography who recently opened their own exhibition “Divine Identity,” and other photographers from Los Angeles, London, and Baltimore.
She also reached out to Natasha Nazareth from Gaithersburg and Elias Nikitchyuk who worked locally and contributed photos to the exhibition.
She also brought a child — Emery — on as the Formal Youth Adviser, recognizing that the show’s most important audience would be trans and nonbinary children. The resulting 26 photos of joyful trans and nonbinary adults and children were chosen by LGBTQ young people from across the United States who shared their selections through a virtual survey, and the group just made the tight deadline. Sadly, Stevie (a nickname for the beloved Petra Stephanie) Neal passed before the project was put on display, but their estate covered photography printing costs.
Soon, the UCCR was filled to the brim with photos of happy and joyful trans people. While UCCR has designated a room for its display, there were too many so the photos spilled out into the hallway, entryway, and anywhere else they would fit. It was only the first of many surprises.
She anticipated just displaying the show at the church in Rockville, but at the opening, McCrory shared that she would love for the show to be on display at Bethesda United Church of Christ (UCC) where she was then and is now working as an interim pastor, so it went to Bethesda UCC next, but that wasn’t its final stop as church members attended other parishes, they shared that they wanted the photos displayed in their own spaces of worship, and soon the photos had travelled to Christ the Servant Lutheran Church in Gaithersburg, Pilgrim Church in Wheaton, Hope United Church of Christ in Alexandria, PhotoWorks at Glen Echo, and finally, Third Space in Baltimore — its most recent stop at the recommendation of one of the photographers. A friend of Octavia Bloom, a Baltimore photographer, wanted the show to come to their hometown.
The exhibition at Third Space came to an end on Aug. 8, but as before, another church —this one Sandy Springs Meeting House — stepped up to host the show. The brick Sandy Springs Meeting House was originally constructed in 1817 and has stood ever since, making the Sandy Spring Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends one of the oldest Quaker Meetings in Maryland. Sandy Spring just put up their hanging system, on loan from a local artist, this month and aims to have the show on display to the public soon.
For some, the choice to display the exhibition in churches may seem like a strange or at least surprising one, but for Andersen, it was a meaningful choice. For Andersen, it helps counter the narrative of churches being places of hostility and part of campaigns against us. While recognizing the history of harm that churches and other religious institutions have caused through conversion therapy, exclusion, hate speech, and more, Andersen’s exhibition showcases how spaces of faith can also be key centers of LGBTQ advocacy and organizing. In fact, D.C. has a rich history of LGBTQ activism based out of and supported by faith communities.
“The fact that it was held in a church made so many people so happy. It also made many people cry because the church has been a place of hostility because the resistance, the hatred, of lesbians, gays, bis and transgender people has been biblical, both in terms of its size and in terms of its purported origin, and so having churches hold this exhibit was dearly important symbolically,” Andersen said.
Andersen shared that so many friends of hers who came to the show had not visited churches in decades because they (justifiably in some cases) viewed them as completely hostile locations. When they went to the exhibitions in the churches and were treated well, she said, she believes it was a healing experience, as it was for many trans and nonbinary children and adults and their parents who are facing a world of negative representation — either hostile from conservative, Christian nationalist groups or media portraying trans and nonbinary people as victims.
Andersen wanted to create a show that offered hope to trans and nonbinary kids, as It Gets Better did many years before. sharing videos and photos of happy and joyful LGBTQ adults as a way to share positivity and hopefully prevent suicide among LGBTQ children. It was more than timely than ever following Benedict’s death in February 2024. The previous day, Benedict was assaulted by other high school students in a girls’ restroom and later died by suicide.
“The purpose of the show was to counter all of the negativity because with Republicans running and now Trump in office there was so much animosity and hostility and people trying to pass these hateful laws that I knew this had to be having a negative impact on the mental health of trans kids.”
Andersen hopes that this exhibition enriches this rich tradition and sparks new conversations — and maybe even more happy tears — at Sandy Springs Meeting House this fall.
The show will be open most days between about 10 and 4 except for Mondays and Saturdays. Viewers are advised to call Sandy Springs Meeting House at 301-774-9792 first on weekdays. The show will continue until the end of December.
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