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Opinion | Being Isabel

Some trans folk miss certain elements of their past life

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Islamabad, Pakistan

One of my first memories of being Isabel was in Islamabad, Pakistan, with my father at some nondescript water fountain, teal blue. My identical twin Helen and I, aged around five, are staring up into the camera, blank expressions, no hidden agenda — the grounds around us an abyss to be conquered with yelling matches and dancing and faces overstuffed with chocolate cake.

More memories start to flow like etches on some weird, global impressionist sketch—playground laughs in New Delhi as tiny zig-zagged marks, and loud sobbing tantrums in the corner of our house in the old quarter as frenetic dashes on a canvas, all painting what it was like being female—being Isabel—before manhood.

Helen and I get henna on our hands—burgundy traces of ink on the front and back of palms, at Dilli Haat in Delhi, and rummage through old books at Khan market.

Childhood is effortless and easy—maniacal screaming and kicking and racing with friends in circles and circles, plotting marriages and throwing paper planes off fortress walls with Daniel, jumping on the back of Raja, our white lab, or boarding miniature waves in the outer banks of North Carolina.
We return to the States at eight years of age.

Helen and I join a club soccer team in Virginia. Our mother is now reading us Harry Potter almost religiously, being a woman of books and letters, perhaps loving fiction as much as she loves cradling us after soccer practice. Her voice is soothing, and JK Rowling—then good—was giving us Hogwarts and Hermione, with her tangled brown hair and wicked intellect, on a platter.

Returning from a club game, our friend Annie whispers in my ear. “Isabel,” she says, “Usher cheated on his girlfriend in his song Confessions.” We gush over his infidelity. The scandal. This becomes a fact between us—a rogue piece of information—that we start to guard with excellent statecraft. No one else can know our secret—that Usher is a cheater.

When we’re 12, we move to Russia.

Helen and I join the Moscow soccer team. Tournaments are in Budapest and Bucharest and Warsaw. On trips we shovel ice cream in student teacher lounges and prowl shopping malls in Bucharest, scrutinizing dresses at H&M and Zara. Gossip is exchanged in school corridors and store bathrooms.
In the city, Russian women are “fitful,” people say. High, black leather boots and white tunics during the summer; mink fur in January and loud red lipstick all the time. Vodka in precious shot glasses and black caviar on blinis.

The Novy Arbat is packed with nightclubs—drunkards come out at 8 a.m. on weekdays, some with bottles of Stolichnaya. Helen and I, now 13, race to a kiosk in one of the six-lane avenue’s underpasses, buying Redd’s beer. We are not of age for alcohol, but that doesn’t matter—only that we are tall enough to reach the counter.

We move back to Arlington. In eleventh grade, I feel myself slipping away from my body, drifting away from my legs, arms, torso, and curves. Activities like running or drinking with friends lack pleasure and feel painful. But no matter how many miles I clock on the track, I can’t run away from this disassociation.

Some transgender people hate their former lives. A lot of us want these lives gone, torn apart, forgotten forever. But it’s more complicated than that. Some trans folk miss elements of their past life, sometimes dearly. These two feelings are not mutually exclusive, either.

At present, I wear a pair of washed up, straight jeans, a black Hanes T-shirt, and brown boots that peg me as some sort of country denizen. My jacket is from Old Navy, and sweaters from a motley of stores I don’t care about. Now and then I throw a watch, or a tropical button down.

But the lack of gossip is what kills me the most. Some women bond over Vera Wang shoes, manicures, and tales of boys. I don’t know what the same social currency is for men—beer? Poker chips? Body count? Whatever they are, they seem irrelevant and wasteful.

So I said goodbye to wardrobes, dresses, and mascara. But they’ll never leave my mind, just as being a sister or a female friend will never leave, either. There to stay, tucked back in some recess of my brain, petulant, an ever-nagging reminder of having been Isabel.

Isaac Amend (he/him) is a transgender man, activist, and D.C. native. He is on Instagram and Twitter at @isaacamend.

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Barney Frank’s powerful legacy for LGBTQ federal employees

The ‘Great Gay Communicator’ deserves respect

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Rep. Barney Frank (D-Mass.) (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

Former Congressman Barney Frank, who died last week, was dogged during his life over being gay. The self-proclaimed only “left-handed, gay, Jewish congressman,” in Congress deserved better.

Frank’s perseverance paved the way for others. With wit and intelligence, he helped educate Americans about sexuality. As a federal employee and a member of the Federal Gay, Lesbian or Bisexual Employees (GLOBE), a government-wide organization founded by Dr. Len Hirsch, I saw Frank’s unforgettable speaking style when he was a guest speaker at our monthly events.

Frank’s detailed presentations about federal employment policies were not recorded. The only record of them, edited by Dr. Hirsch and other members of the GLOBE board, is in the minutes of the GLOBE meetings. I held several positions in GLOBE, including secretary, assistant newsletter editor, and as an elected member of the board. I drafted the minutes of the meetings.

GLOBE’s minutes were edited to protect the identity of federal employees. This was important because then-U.S. Sen. Jesse Helms (R-N.C.) attempted to obtain the minutes. Helms felt LGBT advocacy in the federal workplace was an illegal form of political activity. GLOBE was also concerned that the minutes would be illegally accessed and forwarded to Helms or used to blackmail federal employees. GLOBE’s minutes are preserved at the National Archives.

When I was named Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual Program Manager at the Department of Agriculture in 1993, I immediately notified Frank’s office of my appointment. After a federal newsletter published an article about a speech I gave, Helms accused me of using government resources to support “a homosexual agenda.” During several hours on the evening of July 19, 1994, Helms told the Senate and C-SPAN’s television audience that LGBT federal employees had their minds in their crotches. He called LGBT federal employees “perverts.”

Helms had government documents that described the position of “Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual Program Manager.” It was a program that used the incendiary words “promote” and “recruit” homosexuals. It was a huge mistake for government bureaucrats to have written such a program. Helms published it in the Congressional Record. Frank helped us through this battle and others. 

Aside from Frank, there were other LGBT members of Congress in the 1990s. Gerry Studds (D-Mass.), Steve Gunderson (R-Wisc.), and James Kolbe (R-Ariz.). Studds was censured for an affair with a 17-year-old male page in the House. Gunderson was publicly outed by a fellow House Republican. Kolbe was subject to sexual accusations.  

Among these gay congressmen, Frank weathered a hostile media, personal scandal, and vicious attacks from his Republican colleagues. In 1995, former Texas GOP House Majority Leader Dick Armey was caught referring to Frank as “Barney Fag.” His apology was grudging.

“I rule out that it was an innocent mispronunciation,” responded Frank. “I turned to my own expert, my mother, who reports that in 59 years of marriage, no one ever introduced her as Elsie Fag.”

After celebrating his 72nd birthday, Frank married his longtime partner. He successfully worked to place marriage equality into the 2012 Democratic platform, which President Obama endorsed.

Still, Frank was dogged by homophobia. The Tea Party’s Doug Mainwaring called Frank’s wedding “a mockery, a parody, a staggering caricature of the most fundamental and towering of American institutions.”

In an interview with Washingtonian magazine, Frank said he “hates being classified as ‘the gay congressman,’” as his legislative accomplishments go beyond gay rights. He co-sponsored the 2010 Dodd-Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act.

Frank will especially be remembered in Washington for his sharp wit. He once referred to advocating for gay marriage legalization as “cruising for gay rights.” He wrote devastatingly funny op-ed pieces, notably for the Washington Post.

Though Frank may not have wanted to be known as a gay congressman, when he spoke, the LGBT community listened. He was the Great Gay Communicator. Barney Frank deserved respect. May his memory be a blessing.


James Patterson, a life member of the American Foreign Service Association, is a writer and communications consultant in the D.C. area. 

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Time travelers from the AIDS era

Longtime HIV survivor reflects on stigma, survival

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A vigil was held along the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool on Oct. 8, 1988. (Washington Blade file photo by Doug Hinckle)

If I admit I’m HIV positive, some men immediately reject me. If I lie and say I’m HIV negative, many of those same men will gladly have unprotected sex with me.

That contradiction has haunted me for years and made me wonder: What would the gay men who died of AIDS in the 1980s think if they could see us now?

The future would absolutely astonish them. Everybody carries around a handheld device that can instantly broadcast their thoughts, faces, bodies, and lives to the entire planet. We elected a Black president twice. Same-sex marriage is legal. Gay people can openly marry, raise children, grow old together, and even get divorced like everybody else. HIV itself is no longer “the deadly disease” it was when I learned I was infected in 1985 at age 23.

Back then, life expectancy was often measured in months. Surviving long enough to grow old felt like science fiction.

Now there are medications that can suppress the virus so effectively, a person living with HIV can become “undetectable,” meaning they cannot sexually transmit the virus. Countless people who once expected to die can now live long enough to worry about all the ordinary things people worry about as they age: heart disease, bad knees and what restaurant closes too early.

Back then, that wasn’t even a pipe dream. But the future also got weird.

What shocks me most is not the medical progress. It’s the emotional contradiction surrounding it. The general public no longer fears sharing space with people living with HIV. Most people understand you cannot get HIV from a hug, a handshake, sharing food, breathing the same air, or sitting next to someone on a plane.

But sex is different. Especially in the gay world, where stigma still lingers in strange and contradictory ways.

I’ve watched gay men reject HIV-positive men while simultaneously engaging in anonymous unprotected sex with people whose status they know only because somebody typed a word into an app. “Negative.” “Clean.” “DDF.”

As if viruses never lie.

At the same time, we now live in a sexual culture far more open and visible than anything most gay people from the 1980s could have imagined. The bathhouse has largely been replaced by hookup apps and social media. Sexual behavior is documented, broadcast and archived in real time.

But greater sexual freedom did not necessarily bring greater emotional clarity.

Some men still fear HIV intensely. Others eroticize it. Some even document their attempts to acquire it.

We solved the medical crisis of HIV far faster than we solved the psychological, emotional and sexual contradictions surrounding it.

As a long-term survivor, I sometimes feel like a time traveler trapped between two worlds: one that remembers the terror and one that barely remembers the war.

That feeling became the seed for my new novel,“The Unfrozen Few.” I imagined a group of AIDS patients from the late 1980s choosing cryogenic freezing rather than death, only to wake up in present-day America. They emerge into a world of smartphones, same-sex marriage, social media and medical breakthroughs, but also into a world that still doesn’t fully know what to do with people living with HIV.

In many ways, the frozen few are simply long-term survivors with the volume turned all the way up.

I think the dead would be amazed by how far we’ve come. And stunned by the ways we still haven’t.


Randy Boyd is a longtime HIV survivor, five-time Lambda Literary Award finalist and author of five novels, including ‘The Unfrozen Few,’ a speculative series about AIDS patients who were cryogenically frozen in the 1980s and awaken in present-day America. More information is available at randyboydauthor.com.

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Dual endorsement for Independent Council-at-large: Patterson or Crawford

Let’s move the District forward

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Washington, D.C. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

(Editor’s note: This column reflects the writer’s opinion and does not constitute a Washington Blade endorsement of any candidate.)

The race for Independent Council-at-Large is interesting. There are three main candidates and I suggest making your choice easier by first eliminating Elissa Silverman from consideration. She is a retread, and it is time to move forward, not backward. 

There are two candidates whom I have taken the time to talk with in some depth. They are both impressive, and either will make a great addition to the D.C. Council. I have some minor issues with both, but then have never found a candidate who I would agree with 100%, and never expect to. 

Jacque Patterson has held public office, and served the community well, as president of the D.C. State Board of Education. Just recently a study was released, and while we know there are many outstanding issues in our schools, this new Education Scorecard report from Harvard, Stanford, and Dartmouth, ranks District of Columbia students first in the nation for academic growth in both math and reading between 2022 and 2025. While they are still not doing as well as we want all our students to do, progress is important, and this scorecard shows how the District is working to help its students. Take a look at Jacque’s website to see what he will focus on. You will find it impressive. He understands among other issues what small businesses mean to D.C., what we need to do for safer communities, and to provide more opportunities for all our youth. 

Then take a look at Doni Crawford who has now been serving on the Council for about four months, having been chosen to replace Kenyan McDuffie until the election, when he resigned to run for mayor. She previously worked in his office as committee director for the Council’s Committee on Business and Economic Development. Prior to that she worked at the D.C. Fiscal Policy Institute. Her focus is also on safer communities, economic development, housing, and youth. You can look at Doni’s website to get a more detailed understanding of where she intends to focus her time. 

Both candidates have talked about how they will work to fight for D.C. statehood, and to ensure the 700,000 residents of the District can set their own budget priorities, and make their own legislative decisions, without oversight from Congress. 

When looking at who you choose to vote for as a Council member in D.C., it is important to understand the person you select will be working closely with 12 other members. They have to understand the art of compromise to get their initiatives passed. They must have the personality that will demand respect of the other members, and a style that will make them stand out on the Council. I think Jacque and Doni are the two choices in this Independent Council-at-large race who will be able to do that. Also, remember in an at-large seat on the Council the focus is a little different than when you are selecting a Council member for your own ward. These members need to have a little broader view, and be able to balance all constituents in every ward of the city. That is a little more difficult. 

I know from talking with them that both Jacque and Doni are committed to equality, and just as important, economic equality. They understand for the District to do well; everyone needs a fair playing field. I have gotten the strong feeling they both understand what is happening around the nation is impacting the people of D.C. That includes the resurgence of antisemitism, as well as racism, Islamophobia, homophobia, and sexism. They understand we are faced with a White House, and Republican-controlled Congress, who instead of doing anything to combat these issues, are making them worse. And because home rule still gives Congress and the felon in the White House much-too-much control over D.C., this impacts us directly. I have confidence in both Patterson and Crawford, that they will fight this, and do it intelligently, and successfully, to the benefit of all the people they are looking to serve.

So, my recommendation is you look at both their websites and decide who your first choice will be. Then rank that person #1 on your ballot for Independent Council-at-large. Then because you can with ranked choice voting, rank the other one #2. Then stop! You don’t need to rank any more. 

Again, I think either Jacque Patterson or Doni Crawford will serve us well on the Council. They are both smart, experienced, and both will bring something new to the Council. Elissa Silverman had her chance before, and there were reasons the voters turned her out. Let’s not go backwards, but rather let’s move the District forward, with either Jacque Patterson or Doni Crawford. 


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

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