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2024 campaign dash-for-cash is well underway

Democrats must stop funding doomed candidates

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Raising money for the 2024 campaigns is already well under way. I recently received invitations to two fundraisers for the Democratic Grassroots Victory Fund sent from the Deputy National Finance Chair of the DNC. I had to look twice to see if I was reading it right. One in New York with President Biden and one in Philadelphia with both the president and Vice President Harris. The cost to attend a reception, not a meal, and have a photo opportunity, was $36,500 per person. You could become a host for $100,000.

I remember helping to arrange a fundraiser for President Obamaā€™s reelection campaign on Sept. 30, 2012. It was held at a friendā€™s home in Georgetown. The cost to attend was $35,000 a couple, and it was for dinner and a photo op, and $5,000 per person for a reception with the president before the dinner. The reception was planned in conjunction with the Human Rights Campaign. So, in 10 years the price has more than doubled and no meal. The allowed personal contribution to an individual federal candidate has also gone up to $3,300 for a primary and $3,300 for the general election. So the same kind of reception we did would now cost $6,600 per person. Guess that is what they mean by inflation.

In the last 10 years we have seen the amount raised in small online contributions increase dramatically. Anyone who has ever given even $5 to a Nancy Pelosi email request for donations now sees hundreds of more emails in their in-box on a regular basis. I would urge anyone responding to one of those to read it very carefully. Many of them say they are for a particular candidate, but if you read the small print, you find the candidate only gets a very small percentage of what you donate. Most of it goes to a PAC, and often ends up in the pockets of consultants.

Democrats are very generous. But the reality is we end up donating millions to what are sure to be losing races. The current DNC Chair, Jamie Harrison, raised $104 million in his primary and general election for the Senate in South Carolina, which he predictably lost to Lindsay Graham by 12%. In what was called a long-shot campaign, Democratic candidate Marcus Flowers raised more than $15.6 million in his effort to defeat Marjorie Taylor Greene. He lost by 31 points. Giving money to him, thinking he could win in that District, is surely the definition of insanity.

There is also a lot of dark money going into campaigns. But with the increase in small donations, it is definitely harder for the big money people to have influence. I remember when the Clintons were attacked for inviting some big donors to sleep in the Lincoln bedroom in the White House as a thank you for donations. Surely Biden doesnā€™t have to do that. But as the dollar requests go up for a picture with the president, those donors will at least expect an audience with someone in the administration.

Now in some ways the pandemic was a lucky break for President Biden when it came to campaigning and raising money in 2020. He had an excuse not to do photo ops, or any in-person events, and still raised incredible amounts of money. In August of 2020 alone, he raised a record-shattering $364 million, for combined Democratic committees. I did my little bit in 2020 and was on a list of 800 bundlers released by the Biden campaign ā€” those who raised more than $100,000 for the campaign. I donā€™t know about the others on the list, but I havenā€™t received any special favors for this, and didnā€™t even receive my usual Christmas card from the White House. What I do get are regular email and snail mail requests from the DNC for more money. Also, that bundler list is shared far and wide. Along with my email that list apparently has my phone number. So, when every Democratic candidate around the nation gets the list, I am inundated not only with emails but with text messages on my phone.

I recently received a phone call from a reporter I know at NBC news. She wanted to know what I got for my donation to the campaign and what I thought of how President Biden was handling his donor politics. I went off the record and said, ā€˜terribly.ā€™ I havenā€™t received anything and a major donor through me didnā€™t get anything either. Recently, through friends who are working in the administration, I was invited to three events on the White House lawn. Now that the pandemic is easing this is how masses of people get to go to the White House. I guess the people who arrange them are out of practice as the two I went to were not well planned. Those there were clearly not invited based on their donation levels, except maybe the few in the front section with seats. I definitely was not one of those.

The first event was the celebration of the Deficit Reduction Act. It was a very hot day and they did have some water stations. But they didnā€™t have any Jumbotrons, or a raised stage, so no one toward the back, and there were hundreds, could see what was happening. You could hear, but couldnā€™t see the president, or the entertainer of the day, who happened to be James Taylor. He is of the presidentā€™s and my generation, and I think he is great. But I asked many of the millennials standing around me if they knew who he was, and they all said no.

The second event was the signing of the Respect for Marriage Act. I was proud to be there based on my work for marriage equality. It was held on a very cold day. Once again, no Jumbotrons and no stage, so again anyone in the back simply saw hundreds of people in front of them holding up iPhones trying to get a picture over the heads of others. I was lucky to stand next to a tall person who could hold the phone higher. The entertainment for the mostly LGBTQ audience was more appropriate, Sam Smith and Cyndi Lauper. The third event, which some friends invited me to as their guest, was the concert by Elton John, which I didnā€™t attend. I understand there were Jumbotrons but then the event was paid for by the A&E networks and the History Channel for possible broadcast. So maybe the time when bundlers, or bigger donors, can expect a reception in the White House for raising or giving more than $100,000, or a reception photo-op for $6,600 is over.

I am not looking for anything and I can only imagine what kind of money will be needed, and raised, for campaigns in 2024. Or what mega-donors will expect or receive for their donations. My only hope is whatever money is raised is spent wisely so Democrats win. It is clear the 2024 campaign dash-for-cash is well underway.

Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist. He writes regularly for the Blade.

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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 ā€“ I didnā€™t know. I barely even bottomed before the pandemic, and now I had to know my kinks? 

Iā€™m open, I replied, evasively. You? 

His response left me coughing: ā€œLove musk sweat ws public group rough bb verbal bate edge roleplay and very open-minded.ā€ 

Now Iā€™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 wasnā€™t sure what a few of the items he listed even meant.  

Perhaps I shouldnā€™t be surprised when young men ā€” and the younger generation across the LGBTQ spectrum in general ā€” 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 havenā€™t sought out that many new sexual experiences, and while fetishes, kinks, and sexual desires can seem trivial, theyā€™re inextricably intertwined with gender and relationships. If I canā€™t articulate what I like in the sack (or in public, if I dare), then how do I know what Iā€™m seeking from a long-term partner, or if thatā€™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 isnā€™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 didnā€™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 didnā€™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 couldnā€™t be more different. I now work at a new gay bar in town to support myself, and Iā€™ve given myself space to pursue the arts. This former straight-laced, type-A, tightly wound gay abandoned the safe track and he couldnā€™t be more terrified. He also couldnā€™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 Iā€™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 thereā€™s still plenty of territory for me to explore. No longer can ā€˜bottomā€™ or ā€˜topā€™ be my only options. 

So, the purpose of this column ā€“ aptly titled Queer Quest ā€“ is to capture my exploration of queer identity. Itā€™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, Iā€™ll have a series of portraits on what itā€™s like to be queer in the mid 2020s. At most, Iā€™ll have a better understanding of who I am as a queer person. 

Then maybe, just maybe, Iā€™ll become a better sexter. 

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

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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, weā€™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 ā€” 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 wasnā€™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.Ā 

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. Patrickā€™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. Patrickā€™s Day can serve as a reminder of the past or could be looked at as another day. 

Many celebrate St. Patrickā€™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. Patrickā€™s Day. 

For instance, remind yourself why you are sober, and donā€™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 doesnā€™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. Patrickā€™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. Patrickā€™s Day. Itā€™s unavoidable. Itā€™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 itā€™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. Patrickā€™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. Patrickā€™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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