Opinions
How do we respond to rising anti-LGBTQ rhetoric?
Pastor invokes Bible to call for death of gays
On Sunday, June 4, Pastor Dillon Awes stepped behind the pulpit at Steadfast Baptist Church in Watauga, Texas and declared, “What does God say is the answer, is the solution for the homosexual in 2022?…That they are worthy of death.” His statement was greeted by shouts of “Amen” from within his congregation. He continued preaching, saying, “they should be sentenced to death, they should be lined up against a wall and shot in the back of the head.” Again, his words were greeted by “Amens” from within his church.
This clip soon spread online, causing widespread backlash from religious and non-religious alike. But for me, an openly gay, former evangelical, Christian pastor, Pastor Awes’s words are not surprising at all. In fact, I’ve heard similar sentiments regularly. The only difference between Pastor Awes and most other conservative Christian pastors across the United States today is that Pastor Awes was willing to say the silent part out loud. After all, Pastor Awes was not wrong — the passage he was preaching on, as commonly interpreted by conservative Christians, does in fact say, “Although they know God’s righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them.” (Romans 1:32) If you put any evangelical pastor on the spot and asked if they believed that this verse was true and was in reference to LGBTQ+ people, they would have to answer, even if reluctantly, “yes.”
In a strange way, I am glad Pastor Awes preached what he did so clearly, because he is revealing the truth that most other evangelicals don’t want to acknowledge — that their theology related to the LGBTQ+ community is a theology of death. Despite attempts in recent years by evangelicals to seem more welcoming and inclusive, their core theological claim that the lives and love of LGBTQ+ people is sinful, broken, and abomination is a claim that has resulted in the suffering, oppression, and death of millions of queer people around the world, and it is high time that they own up and are honest about the beliefs they hold and their impact on LGBTQ+ people. Because again, Pastor Awes view is not a minority view, as hard as that might be to believe. He simply said what a majority of evangelical churches teach in a horrifyingly clear way. While most evangelicals would probably disagree with Pastor Awes graphic call for the execution of LGBTQ+ people, the would still affirm the truthfulness of Romans 1:32: “They are worthy of death.”
And even if evangelicals attempted theological gymnastics to get out of this horrifying interpretation of scripture that calls for violence toward queer people, their theology, which tells LGBTQ+ people that they must suppress their sexuality or gender identity or seek to change it to be acceptable to God and welcome in the church does, in fact, cause death. A 2015 study published by the National Institutes of Health found that LGBTQ+ people who are subjected to non-affirming religious teachings have a significantly higher rate of attempted suicide. These numbers have been reaffirmed in study after study, and are certainly true in my experience as a young gay evangelical who was forced into conversion therapy by my Christian college in my early twenties. When you’re told that a fundamental aspect of your identity is evil and realize that there is nothing you can do to change it, for many, death can seem like the only viable escape from this mental and spiritual anguish.
So how are we to respond to the truth that this dangerous theology is being preached in literally every corner of our nation? How can those of us- religious or not- who are allies to the LGBTQ+ community protect our queer friends and family from violence and harm in the face of millions of people who hold to these dangerous beliefs and are feeling more empowered than ever to say them out loud and to act on them?
First, it’s important that we do our work and are informed. The truth is that while this interpretation of the biblical texts is unfortunately common among Christians around the world, it is not an accurate understanding of the biblical texts. The six verses in the Christian scriptures that reference any sort of same-sex behavior are all condemnations of a very particular practice that was common in the ancient world — sexual exploitation related to temple prostitution. Same-sex relationships and queer gender identities were well known throughout the ancient Near East and especially within the Roman Empire — instead of speaking about these realities, every condemnation of homosexuality in scripture is tied to “idolatry,” which means worshipping something other than God, and in context is clearly a condemnation of temple prostitution, a practice where people who have sex with priests or priestesses in pagan temples as a way to honor various gods and goddesses. That is what is being condemned in Scripture; there is not a single condemnation of same-sex relationships or queer gender identity anywhere, and we must challenge these teachings the same way we challenged the church’s teachings on slavery, the equality of women, and the panoply of other backwards beliefs that have been perpetuated in the name of Christianity.
Second, we must challenge our conservative Christian friends and family members to be honest about what they believe and the harm that it causes. The reason so many Christians shy away from saying things as clearly as Pastor Awes is because they inherently know that these beliefs are dangerous and wrong. How can one follow Jesus, whose central command was to “love your neighbor as yourself” and hold on to a belief that a group of people are abominations who are worthy of death? These are wholly inconsistent, and this inconsistency should be drawn out and turned into an invitation for our friends to change their damaging and dangerous beliefs.
Third, we must continue to uplift and celebrate LGBTQ+ people and relationships in our society. The hatred spewed by Pastor Awes is a clear reminder of why Pride is still so important — Pride celebrations began to increase visibility of queer folks, decrease stigma around our lives and loves, and to use celebration and joy as a tool for resistance in the face of fear and bigotry. Despite the broad progress the LGBTQ+ rights movement has made in the U.S., our lives and rights are consistently under attack and in the post-Trump era, there has been a reinvigoration of anti-LGBTQ+ policies and rhetoric across the nation rooted in fear being perpetuated by the alt-right. Old tropes conflating queer people with pedophilia and sexual abuse have found new life, and the demonization of LGBTQ+ people as a threat to basic morality is now commonly heard on Fox News and across social media. The way we combat such dangerous rhetoric is ensuring more people see and know LGBTQ+ people and for our allies to speak out whenever anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric is used or policies are proposed, signaling the broad support of queer people by the American public.
During this Pride month, it’s time for a renewed commitment to the fight for LGBTQ+ dignity and equality in the United States. It’s time for queer people to stand up and let our lights shine brighter than ever before, so that LGBTQ+ youth can see our example and know that there is space for them, in all their uniqueness, in our society.
It’s time for allies to be bold in their condemnation of bigotry wherever it occurs. It’s time for our nation’s leaders to reaffirm their commitment to fight for LGBTQ+ rights in every corner of this nation and around the world. If we remain complacent, fear-based views like those of Pastor Awes will spread and will result in more abuse and violence against LGBTQ+ people. Progress is not inevitable, and the fight has not yet been won. This Pride month, may we return again to the spirit of the earliest Pride marches, standing boldly in the face of fear and bigotry and declaring that love will win in the end.
Rev. Brandan Robertson is an author, pastor, activist, and public theologian working at the intersections of spirituality, sexuality, and social renewal. He currently serves as the Lead Pastor of Metanoia Church, a digital progressive faith community.
Opinions
A reminder that Jan. 6 was ‘textbook terrorism’
Capitol attack started an effort to make civic engagement feel dangerous
Jan. 6 taught us what it costs to defend our families and our communities.
Five years ago, Michael Fanone went to work as a Metropolitan Police Department officer and ended the day fighting for his life while defending the United States Capitol.
After Michael spoke publicly about what he witnessed on Jan. 6, the response was not disagreement or debate. It was intimidation. His mother was swatted in a targeted attack.
We are not immediate family, but we spend holidays together. Our lives overlap. And that was close enough.
Unpaid pizza deliveries were sent to our homes. Strangers showed up demanding payment. Threats followed, by phone and online. The message was unmistakable: Speaking out against Donald Trump would come at a cost, not only for you, but for your family.
As Mayor Muriel Bowser said at the time, Jan. 6 was “textbook terrorism.”
What made this harder was not only the intimidation itself, but the absence of any clear support once the headlines faded. One of us was a Metropolitan Police officer. The other served on the D.C. State Board of Education. If anyone should have known where to turn or had access to guidance or protection, it should have been us. Instead, there were no clear resources to help families deal with harassment, no guidance on what to do when threats followed us home, and no sense that anyone had our backs once the attention moved on. We were left to absorb it quietly and figure it out ourselves.
That experience changed how I understood Jan. 6, not as a single violent day, but as the start of a longer effort to make civic engagement feel dangerous and isolating. You do not have to silence everyone. You only have to make examples of a few.
I know many people in this city recognize that feeling now. The sense that speaking out carries risk. That you cannot afford to lose your job. That scrubbing your social media is safer than risking the consequences. In this context, silence is not necessarily apathy. It is self-preservation.
As a school board member and healthcare navigator, I hear it from families who decide to keep their children at home rather than send them to school. I hear it from families who decide not to re-certify their Medicaid, not because they are ineligible, but because they fear being targeted for using public benefits. These are not abstract concerns. They are everyday decisions shaped by fear of retaliation, fear learned by watching what happens to people who speak out.
More people in our city are now asking the same question my family was forced to confront on Jan. 6: Who will back you when the pressure does not stop, or when it follows you home after work?
This is where the city should step in and say clearly: We will have your back.
Yes, D.C. operates under real constraints. We lack statehood. We cannot deploy the National Guard without federal approval. Congress can overturn our laws.
But even within those limits, choices still matter. Across D.C., neighbors are walking children to school when families fear being targeted by ICE. Passersby are stopping to question why someone is being profiled or detained. These acts do not eliminate risk. They redistribute it, often making the difference between retreat and resistance.
This is not about asking everyone to be louder or braver on their own. It is about whether we are willing, as a city and a community, to make it safer for people to stand up to a bully. That means building real support around those who take risks, so they are not left isolated afterward. It means treating endurance as a shared responsibility, not an individual test.
Our city may not have all the powers it would have as a state, but we still have choices. Right now, residents and city workers who face threats are left to navigate a maze of agencies, hotlines, and informal advice on their own. That gap is a policy choice, and it does not have to remain one. There should be one clear place to go when harassment or threats occur, a single point of contact that helps document what’s happening, connects people to existing resources, and coordinates a response across agencies. Not a new bureaucracy, but a clear front door. The message it would send matters as much as the help itself. You are not on your own, and the city is paying attention beyond the news cycle.
Jan. 6 did not end at the Capitol. It moved into our neighborhoods, our families, and our daily choices. The work now is not to demand a single expression of courage, but to make it safer for all of us to stand up in our own way, together.
Allister Chang is a member of the D.C. State Board Of Education from Ward 2.
Opinions
A dangerous precedent on trans rights in Texas
State compiling list of those who have updated gender on driver’s licenses
Recent reporting from Texas Standard revealed what should alarm every American who values privacy, civil rights, and constitutional restraint: the state of Texas is compiling a list of transgender residents who have attempted to update the gender marker on their driver’s licenses.
Under a policy quietly implemented after August 2024, the Texas Department of Public Safety stopped accepting court orders or amended birth certificates as valid documentation for gender marker changes. Instead, DPS employees were instructed to forward the names and identifying information of applicants seeking such updates to a dedicated internal email channel labeled “Sex Change Court Order.” Those records, which include sensitive personal information, are now being collected internally by the state.
Texas officials have not offered a clear explanation for why this information is being gathered, how long it will be retained, or what it will ultimately be used for. That lack of transparency is deeply troubling on its own. But in the broader context of Texas’s recent legislative trajectory on transgender rights, the implications are far more serious. This is not merely a bureaucratic shift. It is the creation of a targeted registry of transgender people.
The discriminatory nature of this practice is difficult to ignore. Governments are generally prohibited from singling out individuals based on protected characteristics for special monitoring or record-keeping. Since the Supreme Court’s decision in Bostock v. Clayton County, discrimination against transgender people has been understood as a form of sex discrimination under federal law. Compiling a list of people solely because they sought to align their identification documents with their gender identity runs directly counter to that principle.
Even states with restrictive policies around gender marker changes have historically focused on procedural barriers rather than surveillance. Texas has crossed a new threshold by moving from denial to documentation. The state is no longer just refusing recognition; it is actively cataloging those who seek it.
This practice also represents a profound violation of privacy. Driver’s license records contain some of the most sensitive personal data the government holds. Associating that data with a person’s transgender status without consent or statutory justification creates obvious risks, particularly in a political environment where transgender people are already subject to heightened hostility.
The chilling effect is unavoidable. Trans Texans will now have to weigh whether engaging with basic state services could land them on a government list. That fear will discourage people from updating identification, interacting with public agencies, or asserting their legal rights at all. When a government’s actions deter a specific population from participating in civic life, the harm extends well beyond administrative inconvenience.
What makes this development especially dangerous is how neatly it fits into a broader pattern. Texas lawmakers have spent years advancing legislation that narrows the legal definition of sex, restricts access to gender-affirming care, and limits the recognition of transgender people across public institutions. The creation of this list does not stand apart from those efforts; it complements them.
Once such a database exists, it becomes a tool. Data collected today for “administrative review” can be used tomorrow to justify new exclusions, enhanced scrutiny, or punitive enforcement. History shows that registries built around identity rarely remain benign. They become mechanisms of control.
Other states are watching. Texas has increasingly functioned as a testing ground for anti-trans policy, with lawmakers elsewhere ready to replicate measures that survive legal or political backlash. If compiling a list of transgender residents becomes normalized in Texas, it will not remain isolated. Red states searching for new ways to restrict trans lives will take notice.
The constitutional issues raised by this practice are significant. The Equal Protection Clause forbids states from treating similarly situated individuals differently without sufficient justification. Singling out transgender people for special tracking invites heightened scrutiny. There are also serious Fourth Amendment concerns when the government collects and retains sensitive personal information without a clear, lawful purpose.
At stake is not just the safety of transgender Texans, but the integrity of government itself. If states are permitted to quietly assemble lists of disfavored populations, the precedent does not stop with gender identity. It becomes easier to rationalize similar measures against other groups, under different political conditions.
This moment demands scrutiny and resistance. Texas must be compelled to explain why this data is being collected, how it will be protected, and whether it will be shared across agencies. Civil rights organizations and federal authorities should treat this practice as a serious warning sign, not a minor administrative quirk.
The United States has made meaningful progress toward recognizing the rights and dignity of transgender people, but that progress is fragile. It can be reversed not only through sweeping legislation, but through quiet bureaucratic maneuvers that evade public attention.
A list of transgender citizens is not a neutral administrative artifact. It is a signal. It tells a vulnerable population that their government is watching them differently, recording them differently, and preparing to treat them differently. That should concern everyone, regardless of where they live.
If we allow this to stand, Texas will not be the last state to do it.
Isaac Amend is a writer based in the D.C. area. He is a transgender man and was featured in National Geographic’s ‘Gender Revolution’ documentary. He serves on the board of the LGBT Democrats of Virginia. Contact him on Instagram at @isaacamend
One year gone, another just beginning. The best of all worlds would be no regrets about how you lived your life in 2025, and a positive outlook for 2026. I wish that for all of you, along with good health and happiness.
For me, 2025 was a good year. No new health issues as long as I don’t consider my recent root canal. Friends kidded if that was my worst, life is OK. But then they didn’t sit in the dentist chair for three hours. As you are aware, if reading this in the Blade, I write about politics. The felon in the White House ensures there is always something to write about. Unfortunately, it’s 99% bad. He recently said he will interfere in Europe, and support far-right parties. Not surprising for him, and his fascist leaning administration. Again, as you know, I usually refer to him as ‘The felon,’ my most polite name for him. He has a slew of scary incompetents around him, but truly frightening are the fascists like Russell Vought at OMB who wrote Project 2025, and his personal Goebbels, Stephen Miller. They are proposing policies that are destroying lives. While many don’t impact me, they create a certain amount of guilt in how I live my life. I am a white, privileged, cisgender, older, male and can escape the immediate repercussions of some of the worst things happening in the world today. Nearly all perpetrated, or supported, by the evil SOB in the White House. There, another name for him.
As long as my Social Security keeps coming, and Medicare still pays 80% of my doctor bills, I should be OK. In 2025, I continued to join friends every morning for coffee. In D.C. at Java House; in Rehoboth Beach, it’s The Coffee Mill, owned by my good friends Mel Damascena and Bob Cartwright.
My regular column allows me to vent and comment on the world. My second column is the Blade’s Comings & Goings column. It lets me share the successes of so many in the LGBTQ community. We have a truly amazing community, of which I am so proud to be a part. In 2025, I also began my second book, this one on politics, but don’t hold your breath for a publication date. I am also a theater reviewer for the Georgetown Dish. I get to see as many plays as I like, and share thoughts about them. Mind you, I call myself a reviewer, not a critic. I always try to find something nice to say about every production, even if I don’t recommend others see it. Maybe a good actor, great scenic designer, always something good even in a bad production.
I am fortunate to continue to travel. Now it’s on cruise ships. Great to unpack once, and know where the bathroom is. This past year I went on two cruises, and the Blade was kind enough to publish my blogs. One, a bucket list cruise, something I wanted to do for over 40 years, to the Norwegian Fjords, and the Arctic. Twelve days on Celebrity APEX out of Southampton. It was amazing, and met all my expectations. The second was my recent transatlantic cruise, something I do annually, with a large group of friends from around the country, and world. It was 13 nights from Rome to Ft. Lauderdale. I’ve already booked next October; 16 nights on Celebrity XCEL, Barcelona to Miami. I even have two cruises booked in 2027, one a transatlantic, the other a river cruise on the Douro, in Portugal. Feel free to join me if you like cruising, at least the kind done on the water.
All-in-all, 2025 was a good year. I look forward to the same in 2026. More travel, including a barge trip in June from Lyon to Paris, through the canals of Burgundy. I hope for good health, time with good friends, and more writing. In addition, I promise my friends, and community, I will continue to fight with, and for you, trying to make our lives better. I will demonstrate against the felon and his policies, work hard to elect Democrats, especially my friend Zach Wahls, running for United States Senate in Iowa. I will stand up, and speak out, for my trans friends, and friends who are immigrants, all threatened by the felon.
I ask you to join me and do everything we can to take back our country and look forward to maybe seeing many of you on a cruise, but definitely on the battle lines, here at home. Together, we can work in 2026 and beyond, to ensure everyone can live the life they want, and deserve; in what again must be the land of the free and home of the brave.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
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