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Trans ban repeal anniversary meaningless without fed’l voter protection

We all deserve to have an equal voice in our government

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Give Out Day, gay news, Washington Blade
(Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

It has been a year since President Biden repealed the Trans Ban. Now, everyone who is qualified to serve their country in the armed forces is able to, openly and authentically. As transgender veterans ourselves, this is an action that we welcome and celebrate.

Since the ban was repealed, the Biden administration has taken initiative to expand Veterans Affairs (VA) benefits to transgender military members and veterans. In June, the secretary of VA, Dennis McDonough, announced a lift on a 20-year ban for gender confirmation surgeries, allowing the procedure to be covered under VA benefits. In September, nearing the 10th anniversary of the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (DADT), the VA disseminated a plan that allows LGBT veterans with other-than-honorable discharges to receive VA benefits. Already in 2022, the VA has announced that trans and nonbinary veterans can update their offical health records with the correct gender identification. While there has been a lot of forward movement in military and veterans spaces for inclusivity, our country is still fighting for a fair and inclusive democracy.

Just as it’s important to recognize transgender veterans’ rights to be openly trans and to receive healthcare through the VA, it is also important to pursue a robust voting rights agenda to eliminate racialized or politicized restrictions on the constitutionally protected right to vote. Right now, it is critical to pass federal voting rights protections. With safeguards in place in our democracy, we can elect leaders that truly care about us. No matter someone’s gender identity, race, ethnicity, or disability status, we all deserve to have an equal voice in our government. As transgender veterans, we want to share our stories and the impact that the decisions made at the federal and state level have on us.

Lene Mees de Tricht (she/her)

I am a transgender US Navy and Coast Guard veteran. Since I left the military, many things have changed, and mostly for the better. Or rather, we’re currently trending positive. And we should on no account be satisfied with our progress; trans people still face a lot of discrimination and trans veterans still face compounding difficulties, but I would like to reflect on how far we’ve come.

I served from 2002-2012, when I was discharged for being transgender. I was unprepared to be very suddenly cast into the civilian world, and I’ve spent the intervening decade trying to recover financially, emotionally, and mentally. I had to do things I’m not proud of to survive, and I’ve been dealing with the trauma of that while also trying to find a job with no marketable skills (an intelligence analyst’s most valuable asset is their clearance, and without it, you have very little to offer) in a society that felt like they were free to hate. The previous administration’s reversal of the incremental gains of the Obama administration set back transgender rights in service of empowering a small demographic of hateful people who would prefer we have no voice and no presence in their military or their society.

So while the VA’s decision to repeal the ban on gender confirmation surgery and recognize veterans as transgender is objectively an improvement, it’s also not enough. As a society, I think we acknowledge the hardships and difficulties of transgender people broadly, and the unique challenges that being a transgender veteran can impose. And I think we as a people acknowledge that being transgender is not the only axis of discrimination and hardship facing Americans even today. Trans veterans stand with our fellow Americans of color in recognizing the ongoing threats to democracy present in our society.

Albi Brunzell (they/them)

I am a nonbinary US Navy veteran who served from 2002-2005 during DADT. I was discharged before it was overturned, so I was never given the right to serve openly as a nonbinary sailor. I served as a straight female because if I didn’t, my country deemed me less worthy to fight for freedom and democracy – something that still sounds absurd to me. Liberty and Justice for all is still not a reality for so many Americans, myself included. Without equal rights, we will never have true liberty or democracy in America. The overturning of DADT made huge steps for the LGB community while transgender rights were still on the line. Up until last year, Trans service members were stuck in a political limbo, and thankfully President Biden ended that.

In the same way, we have made some progress on voting rights in the last few years. States like Michigan have leaders like Secretary of State Jocelyn Benson, who set out to improve access to ballots for veterans after her husband had issues receiving his ballot while deployed overseas.. Our country needs to pass a federal voting rights bill. It’s unconstitutional for millions of Americans to not have equal access to their ballots. Democracy only works when everyone participates.

Esti Lamonaca (they/them)

I am a trans nonbinary US Army 2014 to 2020, OEF (Operation Enduring Freedom) combat veteran. I served during Trump’s Trans Ban implementation. While I had to hide my authentic self, I continued to fulfill the responsibilities of my oath. My gender identity never meant I was unfit to serve. The Commander-in-Chief at the time endangered me in the very country I was risking my life to protect. Trump’s ban has a lasting transphobic footprint within the US military. In combat zones, gender does not matter; what matters is if you can do the job you volunteered to do.

The Biden administration repeal of the Trans Ban humanized the trans community in a space we once were considered a “burden.” Now we need protected human rights as part of our entire democracy. Our democracy isn’t for one group of people, it is for all people. Every single human being deserves to be able to participate in democracy, especially in casting their vote, and it is up to our elected officials to ensure that this is possible.

There’s nothing more patriotic than participating in democracy while being under attack by your own country, whether that is serving your country while hiding your authentic self or battling voter suppression to cast your ballot. You may not know why someone needs access to vote by mail, early vote, or who may even be scared to vote because of voter intimidation, just like you may not know someone’s gender identity who is in full combat gear deployed beside you. While something may not directly affect you, it doesn’t mean someone you love or know isn’t affected. Not everything or everyone is what they appear to be, but that doesn’t mean they should be treated less than.

Even with all of the forward movement, there is still a lot of work needed to ensure true democracy is achieved. As transgender veterans, we know what it looks like to watch democracy crumble, we know what it looks like to be restricted of our rights, and we will not be silent as the attacks on our democracy persist. We swore an oath to protect our democracy, and that oath didn’t expire. Our nation’s leaders have to represent all of us, otherwise our democracy will collapse. It is imperative that federal anti-discriminatory legislation is passed to protect all people, especially when it comes to participating in our democracy.

Members of Congress claim they support veterans every opportunity they get, but they do not support all of us when they are voting against some of our rights. It is vital that the federal government pass federal voting legislation. It is crucial to provide an equal voice in our democracy to all members of society, not just a select group. It is essential that democratic progress never reverses course again, and as veterans we will continue to fulfill our oaths and fight for progress to guarantee liberty and justice is truly for all.

Lene (she/her) is a US Navy and US Coast Guard veteran from Iowa. She served for 10 years in support of counterterrorist, counternarcotics, and humanitarian aid/disaster relief operations. She is the Veterans Organizing Institute Program Associate at the grassroots veterans organization Common Defense.

Albi (they/them) short for Amanda Le’Anne Brunzell, is a US Navy veteran from Grand Rapids, Mich. They are the first non-binary person to openly run for federal office in the United States. Currently, they are pursuing a dual degree in International Relations and Public Policy with a focus on National Security. They are an active member of Common Defense.

Esti Lamonaca (they/them) is a US Army combat veteran from New York City. They served in Afghanistan as part of a Special Forces Joint Task Force team component of NATO. They currently are the National Membership Manager of the grassroots veterans organization, Common Defense.

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Commentary

Sexting with younger guy has me asking: How queer am I?

Reflections on LGBTQ life in 2024

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Jake Stewart is a recovering Hill staffer based in D.C. In addition to writing, he barbacks at the Little Gay Pub."

Once upon a time, not all that long ago, a man sexted another man. 

There were words. There were pictures. There were filthy questions and even filthier responses. You know, the way a good sexting convo ought to be, for those who dabble. 

One man was 33. The other, 24. And while it comes as no shock that I was the 33-year-old, it may be more surprising to learn it was the 24-year-old who grabbed the reins. 

What kinks you into? he asked. 

Shit – I didn’t know. I barely even bottomed before the pandemic, and now I had to know my kinks? 

I’m open, I replied, evasively. You? 

His response left me coughing: “Love musk sweat ws public group rough bb verbal bate edge roleplay and very open-minded.” 

Now I’m no prude (in fact, many would call me a downright whore) but this young man articulating his kinks and fetishes in such detail blew my mind. When did he learn what he liked? At 24, all I wanted was to top a guy and leave with as little communication or attachment as possible. At 33, I wasn’t sure what a few of the items he listed even meant.  

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised when young men — and the younger generation across the LGBTQ spectrum in general — have already figured out their sexual interests. I arrived in D.C. from Idaho in 2008 as a fresh-faced 18-year-old; I came out three years later in 2011. Attitudes toward queerness have shifted substantially since then, and these days it is undeniably easier for younger people to explore their sexual and gender identities (which, by the way, is fantastic). 

But this conversation left me wondering: What do I like? I haven’t sought out that many new sexual experiences, and while fetishes, kinks, and sexual desires can seem trivial, they’re inextricably intertwined with gender and relationships. If I can’t articulate what I like in the sack (or in public, if I dare), then how do I know what I’m seeking from a long-term partner, or if that’s even what I want? 

As soon as I came out, I thought my job was done. All I needed after that was to snatch up a cutie and settle down. Instead, my identity centered on building my career in politics, where sexual openness isn’t as appreciated. I, like many D.C. queers around me, moved here bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to change the world for good. 

Then came a tough lesson: Just because I wanted to improve the world didn’t mean people wanted me to. I was inexplicably fired from not one job but two, and suddenly the do-gooder in me grew jaded. The career I dedicated years to was suddenly ripped from my hands, and I became so disillusioned I didn’t even want it back. Oh, and the cherry on top: My boyfriend dumped me two days later. 

Once everything unraveled, I wondered: Was the me of the past the me I truly wanted? Or was I reflecting back what I thought everyone wanted me to be? 

Well, a few major meltdowns and an extended slut phase later, my life couldn’t be more different. I now work at a new gay bar in town to support myself, and I’ve given myself space to pursue the arts. This former straight-laced, type-A, tightly wound gay abandoned the safe track and he couldn’t be more terrified. He also couldn’t be more excited. 

But losing my old career also left an existential-sized hole in my identity. So, as I sexted this 24-year-old with newfound awareness of my limitations, I decided this must change. 

How? As I said, I work at a gay bar in one of the queerest cities in America. Now more than ever I’m surrounded by those who are LGBTQ and every shade in between. Why not learn from those around me, whether younger, older, or around the same age, but whose experiences are no less queer? Why not carve out time to have in-depth discussions and discover what the possibilities are? 

If being queer means to go against the established norms of gender and sexuality, then there’s still plenty of territory for me to explore. No longer can ‘bottom’ or ‘top’ be my only options. 

So, the purpose of this column – aptly titled Queer Quest – is to capture my exploration of queer identity. It’s not to teach you as much as it is to teach myself, and you can either learn alongside me or simply be entertained. At the very least, I’ll have a series of portraits on what it’s like to be queer in the mid 2020s. At most, I’ll have a better understanding of who I am as a queer person. 

Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll become a better sexter. 

Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer.

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Commentary

What will you do to make Pride safe this year?

Anxiety reigns among American Jews after Oct. 7

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(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

Each year, hundreds of thousands of Jews and supporters of Israel attend Pride marches. With a few exceptions, these spaces have always been safe and welcoming for the broader Pride community. 

But this year is different. 

For American Jews, anxiety reigns as we head into this Pride season. The appalling rise of antisemitism since Oct. 7 forces us to ask difficult questions. As many Jews increasingly feel alienated and excluded from progressive spaces, we’re left to wonder: If I wear a Jewish symbol, march with a Jewish group, or wave a rainbow flag adorned with the Star of David, will I be safe at Pride?

Even before Oct. 7, LGBTQ Jews had plenty of reason to feel trepidation about their safety at Pride. From blanket bans on Stars of David at past Pride gatherings to antisemitism on display at the recent Sydney Pride, too often Jews feel forced to choose between their LGBTQ and Jewish identities and hide their connection to Israel.

Since Oct. 7, terms like “apartheid,” “genocide” and “Zionism equals racism” are increasingly thrown around casually, often without a nuanced understanding of their impact or the realities they oversimplify. This rhetoric not only alienates but also endangers Jewish queer people. It makes us feel emotionally unsafe. It increases the chances that we will be physically unsafe as well. 

We must not allow the Israel-Palestine conflict to be imported into Pride.

I will always remember the euphoria of the first Pride rally I attended. I was barely 18 years old, in a crowd of people of all ages, races, genders and gender orientations — and they were like me. Queer. It felt safe. It was the first time I experienced that feeling of safety, and it will always stay with me. 

Like Pride events everywhere, it was a vibrant, colorful space for LGBTQ people to celebrate our true authentic selves, without fear or reservation.

But that feeling of safety wasn’t shared by everyone in my small New England town. I soon noticed a few people scattered throughout the crowd wearing paper bags over their heads, with eye holes so they could see but not be seen. I later learned that those faceless people were teachers who, in those days before civil rights protections, needed to protect their identities and their careers. 

They did not feel safe. Will Jews and those who are connected to Israel feel safe this year?

The history of Pride is a testament to courage in the face of adversity. It wasn’t long ago when attending Pride events was a defiant act against societal norms, where participants like those teachers faced tangible threats of discrimination, ridicule and even violence. Even today in some places, our queer community still navigates a gauntlet of hatred as we try to celebrate who we are.

It’s crucial to recognize that within the Jewish community, there is a wide spectrum of views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, including many who are deeply committed to advocating for Palestinian rights. In fact, many of the 1,200 innocent Israelis murdered on Oct. 7 were Zionists who devoted their lives to reconciliation and peace with their Arab neighbors.

We are at a pivotal moment, one that demands action: What can we do to ensure Pride remains a safe space for everyone, including Jewish participants?

It’s imperative that Pride committees around the country proactively address these concerns. They must implement training programs focused on de-escalation and fostering an environment of understanding and respect.

As individuals who stand in solidarity with the values of Pride, each of us must consider our role in this effort. Will you march alongside those of us who feel vulnerable, offering your presence as a shield against intolerance? Will you engage in dialogues that challenge the importation of external conflicts into Pride, advocating instead for a celebration that unites rather than divides?

The true test of inclusivity at Pride lies not merely in welcoming a diverse crowd, but in ensuring that every participant feels safe and valued. If we remain indifferent to the vulnerabilities faced by Jewish queer people this Pride season, we will fall short of the very ideals of inclusivity and solidarity that Pride stands for.

Just as we expect schools to protect trans and nonbinary students like Nex Benedict, we have a responsibility in the LGBTQ community to ensure that people can carry an Israeli flag or a Palestinian flag, wear a yarmulke or a hijab and be safe.

As we look forward to this year’s Pride, let us commit to making it a space where safety is not a privilege afforded to some but a right enjoyed by all. Let’s engage with our local Pride committees, advocate for comprehensive safety measures and stand in solidarity with those who feel at risk. 

Only then can we celebrate the true spirit of Pride, rooted in love, acceptance and the unwavering belief in equality for all.

Ethan Felson is the executive director of A Wider Bridge.

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How to protect your sobriety on St. Patrick’s Day

Celebrate with a supportive friend and carry a mocktail

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Sobriety can be challenging, whether you overcame alcohol or drug addiction or chose to abstain from alcohol for a healthier life. Holidays like St. Patrick’s Day can serve as a reminder of the past or could be looked at as another day. 

Many celebrate St. Patrick’s Day sober, as there are generally family-friendly gatherings, community events, or even sober celebrations. If you have concerns about your sobriety, there are practical tips you can use to protect it on St. Patrick’s Day. 

For instance, remind yourself why you are sober, and don’t do it alone. You can still have fun and celebrate but do it with other sober people. Everyone has their reasons for stopping drinking; remind yourself of those reasons and hold yourself accountable.  

Know your triggers; it doesn’t matter if you are a recovering addict or have removed alcohol from your life. Be cautious around possible triggers that pose a challenge. Most people in this situation choose to skip the bar and find something fun to do or go to a sober St. Patrick’s Day celebration. 

Keep a non-alcoholic drink or mocktail in your hand. People will not bother you to ask if you want a drink if you already have something to sip on, like a mocktail. This also leads to planning how to say no. You will encounter social pressure if you go to a bar on St. Patrick’s Day. It’s unavoidable. It’s wise to practice ways to refuse alcohol. 

Finally, if all else fails, take a walk outside if you feel overwhelmed. The most straightforward solutions are usually the best. Remove yourself from any situation you know will lead to relapse. This is also why it’s essential to be with a sober friend or loved one; there is accountability and someone to lean on.

The benefits of being sober are plentiful, along with the numerous health perks, such as better quality sleep, more mental alertness, and lessened anxiety or depression. Yet, there is one benefit that is not necessarily always spoken about. 

Being sober on St. Patrick’s Day or any day removes all chances of impaired driving. Unfortunately, days that promote heavy alcohol use may increase the chances of drunk or drugged driving. For example, in Washington State, impaired driving has been involved in roughly half of fatal crashes for decades. In 2022, 52% of traffic fatalities involved an impaired driver, according to the Traffic Safety Commission. 

Moreover, drivers ages 21 to 30 make up one-third of impaired drivers in fatal crashes, and another 20% are ages 31 to 40. If you are celebrating St. Patrick’s Day sober, take the necessary precautions and look out for one another. If you choose to consume alcohol, drink responsibly, know your limits, and do not drink and drive.

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