Commentary
O’Shae Sibley’s murder is an attack on LGBTQ people and their expression, as both rise
More than 350 anti-LGBTQ attacks reported between June 2022 and July 2023
BY HENRY HICKS IV | What do the banning of a children’s picture book about two male penguins, white supremacist stand-offs outside of weekend brunches and a killing during impromptu dancing at a gas station have in common? Plenty. Each impinges on the escalating trend of attacks on LGBTQ+ people and their right to free expression.
On the evening of July 29, O’Shae Sibley pulled into a Brooklyn gas station parking lot with his friends to fill up their gas tank. As they waited for the tank to fill, the group spilled from the car and used the moment to move joyfully in the hot summer night, cranking the car radio’s volume and dancing together. Sibley, a gay man, was also a skilled professional dancer and choreographer. He displayed his talents this night, voguing to the sounds of Beyoncé, an artist that Sibley and his friends were fans of. By coincidence, the artist was performing just a few miles away that night, with professional voguers joining her on stage.
Vogueing, a dance style born out of the traditionally queer ballroom scene, is known for its electrifying dips, drops and duckwalks. The style has been prominently featured in the Golden Globe-winning television show “Pose” — and, more recently, on stage in Beyoncé’s all-consuming Renaissance World Tour. The energy of the ballroom scene has spirited communities across the country, as Beyoncé’s tour has touched down city-by-city, and Sibley and his friends were not exempt to this reach. He was, in fact, eager to participate in his artistry as someone known for his role as a dancer, choreographer, and active member of New York’s ballroom community.
As he and his friends vogued to Beyoncé in the parking lot, moves that Sibley was adept in as an artist himself, they grabbed the attention of hostile onlookers. As captured on surveillance footage, Sibley was first berated with homophobic slurs — Sibley’s vogue performance seeming to signal his sexuality to his attacker. Shortly following the verbal assault, things turned violent. Sibley was stabbed and murdered in a tragic hate crime, fueled by homophobia and triggered by Sibley’s open expression as a dancer and artist.
In mourning, and in defiant protest in the days following, the New York City queer community hosted a memorial at the site of his murder where they honored his memory through performance, with a vibrant and resistant ball.
“You won’t break my soul. / You won’t break my soul, no, no. / I’m telling everybody,” Beyoncé sings defiantly in her single, “Break My Soul.”
The murder of O’Shae Sibley was devastating — and a signal of a disturbing trend. Increasing violence toward LGBTQ+ people, and attempts to quash their personal and artistic expression, are on the rise in the United States. Advocacy organizations such as GLAAD and the Anti-Defamation League have reported surges in harassment, vandalism and physical violence against LGBTQ+ people — with 356 instances being reported between June 2022 and April 2023. Transgender people, as well as drag performers, have been targeted at notably high rates. The Human Rights Campaign reported 34 murders of trans people — mostly trans women of color — in 2022 (HRC emphasizes that the actual number is likely higher, as most attacks go unreported, or are reported inaccurately.)
Drag shows across the country have faced threats and intimidation from armed protesters, including the far-right extremist group, the Proud Boys. Gay bars have been targeted by armed assailants, such as the tragic massacre thatoccurred at Club Q in Colorado Springs, Colo., last November. Hospitals providing gender-affirming care to transgender youth have been targeted with bomb threats. On Aug. 18, a California store owner was shot and killed for displaying a Pride flag. Harassment, threats of violence, and hate crimes against the LGBTQ+ community have steadily risen in recent years. It is clear that this bigotry has been emboldened and its first goal is to silence the free expression of LGBTQ+ people, through violence if necessary.
The exponential increase in physical violence against LGBTQ+ people over the last few years cannot be divorced from the recent legislative environment that has grown ever-more hostile to LGBTQ+ expression. Bills categorizing drag shows as obscenity, book bans targeting LGBTQ+ authors and stories about queer identities in schools and public libraries, as well as other legislative attacks are part of this trend against the LGBTQ+ community. The attacks, both physical and through laws and bans, risk enabling a culture that normalizes repression of queer voices and increases the risk of violence aimed, in part, at suppressing expression of LGBTQ+ people, even when individuals are simply voguing to Beyoncé in public.
Starting in 2021, we’ve seen a historic surge in book bans around the country, targeting LGBTQ+ voices and stories at a disproportionately high rate. PEN America has reported that among the top eleven books targeted by bans in the first half of the 2022-2023 school year, four focused on LGBTQ+ narratives. These challenges, paired with the historic number of bills targeting LGBTQ+ people in state legislatures across the United States — with at least 566 bills ensnaring the broader LGBTQ+ community, according to the Trans Legislation Tracker — contribute to the normalization of repressing personal and artistic expression of queer people. As these policy attacks continue to advance, violence against the LGBTQ+ community has surged.
And while O’Shae Sibley’s murder occurred in New York, a state that has passed no anti-LGBTQ+ bills in the most recent legislative session, his brutal killing shows just how pervasive the impact of anti-LGBTQ+ legislative attacks on free expression in other states are, shaping a culture that spills across borders and impacting LGBTQ+ people throughout the country. Even states perceived to be supportive to the LGBTQ+ community, such as New York, are not immune to the cultural reach of anti-LGBTQ+ repression and intimidation: the home and office of Erik Bottcher, a gay city councilmember in New York City, was vandalized last December after he voiced support for Drag Story Hour, and more recently, a rainbow Pride flag at a Manhattan restaurant was intentionally lit on fire.
Political threats to LGBTQ+ expression, whether it be through restricting and chilling on-stage performance or making it virtually impossible to even acknowledge the existence of LGBTQ+ people in Florida and other states’ schools, have and will continue to put LGBTQ+ people at risk everywhere, chilling their ability to express themselves and potentially even sending them back into the closet, which, at its core, is a form of self-censorship.
A culture of free expression, where people can speak, write — or dance — free from fear of violence, is essential to a thriving democracy. LGBTQ+ people deserve to equally enjoy this right — through creative performance, gender expression, or displays of joy. The ongoing trend of legislative attacks on drag, attempts to label LGBTQ+ stories as “obscene,” and the accompanying trend of violent assaults on LGBTQ+ people are attacks on free expression and must be condemned as such.
Henry Hicks IV is the coordinator for PEN America’s U.S. Free Expression program. PEN America is committed to defending against attacks on LGBTQ+ free expression.
Commentary
‘A New Alliance for a New Millenium, 2003-2020’
Revisiting the history of gay Pride in Washington
In conjunction with WorldPride 2025, the Rainbow History Project is creating an exhibit on the evolution of Pride: “Pickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington.” It will be on Freedom Plaza from May 17-July 7. This is the ninth in a series of 10 articles that share the research themes and invite public participation. In “A New Alliance for a New Millenium” we discuss how Whitman-Walker’s stewardship of Pride led to the creation of the Capital Pride Alliance and how the 1960s demands of the Mattachine Society of Washington were seen as major victories under the Obama administration.
This section of the exhibit explores how the Whitman-Walker Clinic, a cornerstone of the community since the 1970s, stepped up to rescue Pride from a serious financial crisis. The Clinic not only stabilized Pride but also helped it expand, guiding the festival through its 30th anniversary and cementing its role as a unifying force for the city’s LGBTQ population. As Whitman-Walker shifted its focus to primary healthcare, rebranding as Whitman-Walker Health, a new era began with the formation of the Capital Pride Alliance (CPA). Born from the volunteers and community partners who had kept Pride going, CPA took the reins and transformed Capital Pride into one of the largest free LGBTQ festivals in the country. Under CPA’s stewardship, the festival grew to attract hundreds of thousands, with multi-day celebrations, headline performers, and a vibrant parade.
This period saw Pride become a true cross-section of the community, as former Capital Pride Alliance executive director Dyana Mason recalled: “It was wonderfully diverse and had a true cross section of our community… Everybody was there and just being themselves.” The festival’s expansion created space for more people to find a sense of belonging and affirmation. This growth was made possible through the support of sponsors, volunteers, and a city eager to celebrate-but it also sparked ongoing debates about the role of corporate funding and the meaning of Pride in a changing world.
National politics are woven throughout this era. In a powerful moment of recognition, Frank Kameny — the architect of D.C.’s first White House picket for gay rights and a founder of the Mattachine Society — was invited to the White House in 2009. There, President Obama and the U.S. government formally apologized for Kameny’s firing from federal service in 1957, a symbolic act that echoed the earliest demands of DC’s own Mattachine Society, the city’s first gay civil rights organization founded in 1961. The 2009 National Equality March revived the spirit of earlier mass mobilizations, linking LGBTQ rights to broader movements for social justice. The 2010s brought landmark victories: “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was repealed, marriage equality became law. These wins suggested decades of protest had borne fruit, yet new generations continued to debate the meaning of true liberation and inclusion.
Our exhibit examines how the political edge of Pride has softened as the event has grown. As the festival expanded in scale and visibility, the focus on protest and activism has sometimes faded into the background, even as new challenges and divisions have emerged. Some voices have called for a return to Pride’s more radical roots. The 2017 Equality March for Unity and Pride drew 80,000 people to D.C., centering intersectional struggles — police violence, immigrant rights, trans inclusion — and exposing the widening rift between mainstream LGBTQ progress and the lived realities of the most vulnerable. The question remains: Are LGBTQ officers marching in uniform a sign of progress or a painful reminder of Pride’s roots in resistance to state violence? During Capital Pride 2017, activists blocked the parade, targeting floats sponsored by corporations linked to weapons manufacturing, pipeline financing, and other forms of oppression.
As we prepare for WorldPride and the anniversaries of D.C.’s first Gay Pride Day Block Party and the White House picket, the Rainbow History Project invites you to experience this living history at Freedom Plaza. Through archival images and the voices of organizers and participants, you’ll discover how Pride in DC has been shaped by resilience, reinvention, and the ongoing struggle to ensure every voice is heard.
Zoey O’Donnell is a member of the Rainbow History Project. Vincent Slatt is RHP’s senior curator.
Commentary
A conversation about queers and class
As a barback, I see our community’s elitism up close
In the bar, on the way to its now-Instafamous bathrooms, there’s a sign that reads, “queer & trans liberation means economic justice for all.”
I remember seeing that sign the first week the bar opened, and ever since I often find myself reflecting on that message. I stand fully in agreement. That’s why laws protecting queers in the workplace are essential, for far too often we are targeted otherwise. It’s also why I love working at the bar, since it provides opportunities for queers from all over the spectrum to earn a living. At a time when I gave myself space to pursue art, it was the bar that enabled me to do so.
It’s one thing to support the LGBTQ community in spirit, but that spirit means jack in a capitalist society if viable economic opportunities don’t exist. Speaking of jack, there’s a fellow barback named Jack who I fangirl over often. Jack is a decade younger than me, but damn I wish I had his sex appeal at his age (or any age, for that matter). He also has a mustache that easily puts mine to shame.
Jack not only agrees but took things one step further. “Economic inequality IS a queer issue,” he told me, “especially as we move into the most uncertain period of American politics I have ever lived through, it is apparent our identity is now a fireable offense.”
Uncertain is right. We’re fresh off the heels of a trade bonanza, one caused for literally no reason by our current commander in chief. Yet there emerged a strange division when discussing the trade war’s “unintended” consequences. For working class comrades like Jack and myself, we’re stressed about increasing prices in an already tough economy. But the wealthier echelons of our country had something else on their mind: the spiraling stock market. This alone highlights the story of our economic divide, where the same event produces two separate concerns for two distinct classes.
This is not to say the stock market is not important, but sometimes the media forget many Americans don’t own stock at all, including a vast majority of people between 18 and 29. In fact, according to Axios, the wealthiest 10 percent of Americans own 93 percent of the entire stock market, with the richest 1 percent holding $25 trillion — that’s right, trillion with a “t” — in market value. So, when the president reversed course on trade, it was less about high prices hurting everyday Americans and more about the dent created in the wealth of the wealthiest. And I’ll admit: that bothers me a lot.
If there is any takeaway from Trump’s trade war, it should be this: Economic inequality is the highest it has been in decades and, if left unchecked, will destroy the fabric of our country. We are steadily moving toward oligarchy status—if we’re not there already, that is—and it seems to grow worse with each passing year and administration. But in a city of D.C. gays who often skew corporate, I wonder: Are we all on the same page here?
After becoming a barback, I have my doubts. From questions about what else I do, to comments encouraging me to work hard so that I can be a bartender one day, I quickly learned the gay world is not too fond of barbacking. Barebacking, sure, but not barbacking. And hey, I get it—we’re not the alcohol hookup at the bar. Still, we are part of the service industry, and while some people are incredibly kind, you’d be surprised at how many turn up their noses at us, too.
Recently, I’ve come to realize my class defines me as much as my orientation does, if not more. Naturally, when you come from a rough neck of the woods like I do, it’s easy to feel out of place in a flashy city like D.C., which Jack noticed, too. “Anyone from a working class background could testify to that,” he said. “I don’t really know anyone from true upper class backgrounds, but I’d imagine their experience is one that leans into assimilation.”
Assimilation is a key word here, for admittedly gays love to play with the elite. Often, we don’t have children, meaning more money for the finer things in life, but that also means we may not think about future generations much, either. I’ve written before that our insecurity growing up has us ready to show the world just how powerful gays can be—power that comes in trips to Coachella and Puerto Vallarta, or basking in the lavish houses and toys we own. There’s already a joke that gays run the government, and corporate gays kick ass at their jobs as well. So, given the choice between fighting inequality and keeping a high-paying job, I must admit I have a hard time seeing where D.C. gays stand.
Admittedly, it worked out in our favor before, given that many corporations catered to our economic prowess over the years. But look at what’s happening now: Many corporations have kicked us to the curb. Protections are being stripped from queers, particularly for our trans brothers and sisters. Law firms are bowing down to Trump, offering hundreds of millions in legal fees just for their bottom line. All of this will hurt both queers and the working class in the long run, so again I ask: Corporate gays, where do you stand? Because if you remain complicit, that’s bad news for us all.
I don’t want to sound accusatory, and I hate being a doomsday type, so allow me to end this on a better note. Strength is not about celebrating when times are good. Arguably, true strength emerges when times get tough. These are tough times, my friends, but that also makes now the perfect opportunity to show the world just how strong we are.
At a time when the world is pressuring us to turn our backs on each other, we must defy them to show up when it counts. Corporate gays—now more than ever, at a time when the economy is turning its back on queers, we need you. We need you to stand up for the queer community. We need you to make sure no one gets left behind. We need you to show up for us, so that we can show up for you, too.
Ten years ago, the economy didn’t turn queer out of nowhere. The economy turned queer because we made it turn queer.
And if we did it once, surely we can do it again.
Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer and barback.
Commentary
Fight against TERFs goes global
UK Supreme Court on April 17 ruled legal definition of ‘woman’ limited to ‘biological sex’
After last week’s U.K. Supreme Court ruling that reduced the legal definition of “woman” to “biological sex,” footage of a group of women celebrating the decision with champagne spread virally across the media. These women are known as trans-exclusionary radical feminists, or TERFs.
In response, thousands of transgender people and their allies — including parents, siblings, and pro-trans celebrities — flooded the streets of London, Sheffield, Manchester, Cardiff, and other cities across the U.K. on April 19, to protest the erosion of trans rights. The fight between TERFs and trans* people have become more visible to those outside of the British LGBTQ+ community.
But this isn’t just about the U.K. The problem has gone global. For me, as an openly trans person who has lived in four different countries, it feels deeply personal.
For years, British TERFs have been spreading misinformation about gender around the globe, collaborating with far-right politicians and inspiring anti-trans violence.
At a pro-trans protest I attended in Sheffield, one of the speakers, Sofia Alatorre, a trans woman from Mexico now living in the U.K., dedicated her speech to the ways British TERFs, with their powerful movement supported by celebrities, such as “Harry Potter” author JK Rowling, are influencing people in South America.
“When I go to Mexico now, I don’t just hear people talking about transsexuals as degenerates anymore. Instead I hear about what bathroom we should use, or whether we belong in sports,” Sofia told the Washington Blade. “These are not lines that come from Mexico. They are finely crafted narratives designed to drive a wedge by weaponizing ‘common sense’ gut reactions to complicated subjects. Because without these, they’d have to face the uncomplicated reality: We are just people trying to live our lives happily. In the U.K., the entire media infrastructure is sympathetic with ‘gender critical’ TERF ideology to the point that sympathy blurs into outright support. With these lines finding footing in the Global South, it seems clear that the U.K. has become an exporter of transphobia.”
Unfortunately, TERFs even showed up at a trans event, attempting to argue with the speakers.
One of the trans* organizers of the Sheffield demonstration, who preferred to remain anonymous, expressed their love for the trans* community and trans* people. They emphasized that they are not expressing hatred toward TERFs — they simply want them to reconsider their position.
“If you’re a TERF and reading this, we don’t hate you,” they said. “We don’t hate you. There is nothing I hold in my heart but deep pity for you. You do not know the community of love that we have as transsexuals, and you only know your community of hatred. If you are tired of feeling nothing but hate, come and talk to us, we’re nice, I promise. This protest is a rallying cry that we can’t lose, that we are all here for each other, and that we can do whatever the f*ck we want when we work together. We may be out here today in rage, but what keeps us alive is love.”
But it doesn’t seem like TERFs are ready to show love toward trans people — or to see trans women as their sisters. At our local protest in Sheffield, they were so agitated, jumping toward speakers and trying to engage with them, that the police had to intervene and remove them to prevent a fight. It reminded me of TERFs’ behavior I encountered in St. Petersburg, Russia, and in Russian-language online spaces.
Unfortunately, it’s not just South America that has been influenced by UK TERFs. The country I currently live in is known within European and U.S. queer communities as “TERF Island.”
Some trans Americans even avoid traveling to the U.K., afraid of the influence that Rowling holds over millions due to her wealth and cultural impact.
In Russia, Ukraine, and other Eastern European countries, so-called “radical feminism” is the most prominent feminist movement. Radical feminism, which emerged in the 1960s, is based on the belief that patriarchy is the root of all other forms of oppression.
In modern Eastern Europe, this has led to a situation where many feminists fail to acknowledge racism, ableism, and transphobia — excluding everyone except cisgender people, Slavic, atheist, and able-bodied people from their movement. Historically, radical feminists have not focused much on the trans* community, but with the rise of trans* activism in the 2000s, many became fixated on targeting trans people.
Many of my Russian-speaking trans friends have been badly bullied by local TERFs. Some even experienced suicidal thoughts and severe anxiety due to online harassment from them. And these TERFs weren’t developing their ideology locally — they were importing it. The anti-man rhetoric was inherited from American prominent radical feminists like Andrea Dworkin and Ti-Grace Atkinson, while the transphobic elements were “exported” to Eastern Europe, primarily from the U.K. and specifically Scotland.
Even before Rowling, there was Magdalen Berns, a Scottish TERF YouTuber who was extremely popular among Russian girls and women. It was Berns who helped bring Rowling into anti-trans activism.
I spoke with Sophie Molly, a Scottish trans activist and politician who ran as an Independent MP candidate in the 2024 U.K. general election for the Aberdeen South constituency.
TERFs ruthlessly harassed her during her campaign.
“Transphobia is institutionalized in the UK. It is systemic and it’s getting worse with each passing day” she told me. “Local TERF have a slew of legal professionals on their team too. Like Sarah Phillimore and Joanne Cherry. TERFs have been continually lobbying the government to oppress trans and gender non-conforming people. Dragging their rights and freedoms through the courts. All under the pretense of protecting the rights of women. In reality these conservative groups are backed and funded by billionaires. Billionaires that want to remove trans people from public life, due a personal prejudice they hold. The majority of TERFs are wealthy and privileged white women. Most of them are not LGBTQIA+. They have obscene amounts of money to spend on persecuting a tiny minority. Trans women are women — no matter what the U.K. Supreme Court dictates.”
But another problem of TERFs is that they are policing women as well. Even the Supreme Court decision targeted women.
“The [Supreme Court] decision is an attack on the rights of both trans people and women,” Sophie said. “It reduces women to their anatomy, which is extremely regressive and misogynistic in my opinion”
Women for decades have fought to ensure their lives wouldn’t be defined by the sexual organs they were born with. TERFs are now doing exactly that — attempting to reduce womanhood to biology, while also dictating how women should behave, all in the name of “sisterhood.”
Modern British TERFs have received support from figures like musician, far-right influencer, and convicted murderer Varg Vikernes, as well as ultra-conservative organizations such as the Russian Orthodox Church, an institution notorious not only for justifying the war in Ukraine with homophobic rhetoric but also for its long history of opposing women’s rights. This kind of “feminism” is a global threat, not only to trans* people but also to girls and women everywhere.
Editor’s note: The author uses trans* in order to be inclusive of nonbinary and gender queer people.
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