Commentary
When wolves cry wolf
Friday marks six years since the #MeToo movement went viral
BY SAM SCHULTZ | The voices of sexual assault survivors are typically muted or silenced, particularly in the LGBTQIA+ community. We’ve seen the media and our courts focus on perpetrators without acknowledging the impact on those of us fighting a system and a culture that sweeps victims’ stories under the rug.
Within the queer community there is a familiar similarity in the response (denial and distraction) of powerful men accused of sexual assault. These are sadly not isolated incidents within the queer community. We just don’t talk about them, at least not publicly. A discussion about consent within our community is imperative as society continues to bring attention to this conversation at large.
As young queer people, many of us are objectified and reduced to conquests by often older or more powerful peers. We learn to believe that our primary value to many is sex rather than equal treatment and respect. While society rightly talks a lot about women who are objectified and targeted, we barely acknowledge that sexual assault is an issue in the LGBTQIA+ community.
We’ve seen countless examples in the media in which victims of sexual assault experience more ridicule and hatred than the perpetrators. Sexual predators broadly deny their criminal behavior while their victims spend a great deal of time recovering from the trauma predators cause. With constant denials, predators often receive support from their friends and fans who rush to their defense without any facts about the crime. Victims are demonized and shamed despite evidence and corroboration, even in the face of prosecutions, indictments and convictions.
In an effort to gain equality and respect, the queer community has often turned away from the reality of sexual assault in our own community.
When one of my attackers, David Daniels, was granted tenure at the University of Michigan in 2018, I knew that I needed to come forward about what he and his husband did to me. I felt devastatingly sure that I wasn’t the only person he victimized, and I felt an overwhelming responsibility to prevent future rapes. The #MeToo movement championing accountability was making progress, and I had been in therapy for years to process the assault in ways that honored my dignity and didn’t destroy me. Empowered, I felt confident in my decision to cry foul.
Before I exposed the truth, I thought I knew what coming forward might mean for me. I was reluctantly prepared for media attention and scrutiny, as well as a shadow that would hover over my personal and professional life. I was aware that this news would be uncomfortable for a lot of people, especially since the men who raped me had power, status and wealth.
I wrote a public statement about how being raped impacted my life and career in the years that followed. I spoke with investigators who brought charges against David Daniels and Scott Walters, the men who have recently admitted to raping me. After the District Attorney’s office assigned a prosecutor to this case, a trial date of April 2, 2020, was set. Multiple young men came forward with their own experiences alleging abuse. The University of Michigan completed an investigation into Daniels’ abusive behavior as alleged by 20 students, and the Board of Regents unanimously fired him without severance on the basis of what they found; a rarity at this institution. Yet even after the university’s investigation into the behavior of David Daniels, I remain the scapegoat for his firing by many of his friends and fans in an effort to distract and deflect.
Why are we inclined to believe denials even when crimes are brought to light? Victims face accusations of attention-seeking when we come forward publicly, and we face accusations of cowardice when reporting anonymously. As a society, we see countless examples of predators calling their reckoning a witch hunt, but is the burden placed on victims not exactly that?
The power dynamics that pervade these crimes often include a charismatic and familiar predator and their less-powerful prey. Yet charisma is not synonymous with integrity, even through a queer lens. When one lives with integrity, one understands the potential to reconcile our mistakes. The dominant denial script of predators lacks that integrity. Predators do not want to admit or be held accountable for their actions because of the consequences they might face. Despite any consequences they may experience, rapists do not live with the nightmarish reality they’ve inflicted on their victims.
When a survivor comes forward after years or decades, people often ask “why now and not right away?”. Sadly, it’s because my experience is the devastating norm — coming forward means accepting delayed justice at best.
The general public, especially those identifying as part of the queer population, people like you reading about my and others’ experiences, must be kinder and more compassionate to victims and resolve to believe them more. No one asks for rape or enjoys the recovery that follows, whether they come forward or remain silent. Those who do come forward accept the unenviable responsibility of holding sexual predators accountable so that others are spared from knowing the horrific, inflicted pain. Our government, and all systems, must improve the treatment of and resources for victims of sexual assault.
As survivors, we prove that we are stronger than our oppressors. And elusive as hope may seem, hope is what drives the recovery. As we commit to seeking justice, should not the criminals commit to accountability, regardless of the consequences? No matter how many people may come forward to hold the perpetrator of their abuse accountable, does a guilty plea (and then denial) invalidate that many accusations? And will we accept the evasive denials that permeate the responses to allegations of sexual misconduct?
Sam Schultz is an accomplished singer, runner and advocate. They recently found justice after experiencing sexual assault in 2010.
January arrives with optimism. New year energy. Fresh possibilities. A belief that this could finally be the year things change. And every January, I watch people respond to that optimism the same way. By adding.
More workouts. More structure. More goals. More commitments. More pressure to transform. We add healthier meals. We add more family time. We add more career focus. We add more boundaries. We add more growth. Somewhere along the way, transformation becomes a list instead of a direction.
But what no one talks about enough is this: You can only receive what you actually have space for. You don’t have unlimited energy. You have 100 percent. That’s it. Not 120. Not 200. Not grind harder and magically find more.
Your body knows this even if your calendar ignores it. Your nervous system knows it even if your ambition doesn’t want to admit it. When you try to pour more into a cup that’s already full, something spills. Usually it’s your peace. Or your consistency. Or your health.
What I’ve learned over time is that most people don’t need more motivation. They need clarity. Not more goals, but priority. Not more opportunity, but discernment.
So this January, instead of asking what you’re going to add, I want to offer something different. What if this year becomes a season of no.
No to things that drain you. No to things that distract you. No to things that look good on paper but don’t feel right in your body. And to make this real, here’s how you actually do it.
Identify your one true priority and protect it
Most people struggle with saying no because they haven’t clearly said yes to anything first. When everything matters, nothing actually does. Pick one priority for this season. Not 10. One. Once you identify it, everything else gets filtered through that lens. Does this support my priority, or does it compete with it?
Earlier this year, I had two leases in my hands. One for Shaw and one for National Landing in Virginia. From the outside, the move felt obvious. Growth is celebrated. Expansion is rewarded. More locations look like success. But my gut and my nervous system told me I couldn’t do both.
Saying no felt like failure at first. It felt like I was slowing down when I was supposed to be speeding up. But what I was really doing was choosing alignment over optics.
I knew what I was capable of thriving in. I knew my limits. I knew my personal life mattered. My boyfriend mattered. My family mattered. My physical health mattered. My mental health mattered. Looking back now, saying no was one of the best decisions I could have made for myself and for my team.
If something feels forced, rushed, or misaligned, trust that signal. If it’s meant for you, it will come back when the timing is right.
Look inside before you look outside
So many of us are chasing who we think we’re supposed to be— who the city needs us to be. Who social media rewards. Who our resume says we should become next. But clarity doesn’t come from noise. It comes from stillness. Moments of silence. Moments of gratitude. Moments where your nervous system can settle. Your body already knows who you are long before your ego tries to upgrade you.
One of the most powerful phrases I ever practiced was simple: You are enough.
I said it for years before I believed it. And when I finally did, everything shifted. I stopped chasing growth just to prove something. I stopped adding just to feel worthy. I could maintain. I could breathe. I could be OK where I was.
Gerard from Baltimore was enough. Anything else I added became extra.
Turning 40 made this clearer than ever. My twenties were about finding myself. My thirties were about proving myself. My forties are about being myself.
I wish I knew then what I know now. I hope the 20 year olds catch it early. I hope the 30 year olds don’t wait as long as I did.
Because the only way to truly say yes to yourself is by saying no first.
Remove more than you add
Before you write your resolutions, try this. If you plan to add three things this year, identify six things you’re willing to remove. Habits. Distractions. Commitments. Energy leaks.
Maybe growth doesn’t look like expansion for you this year. Maybe it looks like focus. Maybe it looks like honoring your limits. January isn’t asking you to become superhuman. It’s asking you to become intentional. And sometimes the most powerful word you can say for your future is no.
With love always, Coach G.
Gerard Burley, also known as Coach G, is founder and CEO of Sweat DC.
Commentary
Honoring 50 queer, trans women with inaugural ‘Carrying Change’ awards
Naming the people who carry our movements forward
Dear friends, partners, and community:
We write to you as two proud Black and Brown queer women who have dedicated our lives to building safer, bolder, and more just communities as leaders, organizers, policy advocates, and storytellers.
We are June Crenshaw and Heidi Ellis.
June has spent almost 10 years guiding the Wanda Alston Foundation with deep compassion and unwavering purpose, ensuring LGBTQ+ youth experiencing homelessness have access to stability, safety, and a path forward. Her leadership has expanded housing and support services, strengthened community partnerships, and helped shift how Washington, D.C. understands and responds to the needs of queer and trans young people. In her current role with Capital Pride Alliance, June advances this work at a broader scale by strengthening community infrastructure, refining organizational policies, and expanding inclusive community representation.
Heidi is the founder of HME Consulting & Advocacy, a D.C.–based firm that builds coalitions and advances policy and strategy at the intersection of LGBTQ+ justice and racial equity. Her work spans public service, nonprofit leadership, and strategic consulting to strengthen community-driven solutions.
We’re writing because we believe in intentional recognition — naming the people who carry our movements forward, who make room for those who come next, and who remind us that change is both generational and generative. Too often, these leaders do this work quietly and consistently, without adequate public acknowledgment or what one might call “fanfare,” often in the face of resistance and imposed solitude — whether within their respective spaces or industries.
Today, we are proud to introduce the Torchbearers: “Carrying Change” Awards, an annual celebration honoring 50 unstoppable Queer and Trans Women, and Non-Binary People whose leadership has shaped, and continues to shape, our communities.
This inaugural list will recognize:
- 25 Legends — long-standing leaders whose decades of care, advocacy, and institution-building created the foundations we now stand upon; and
- 25 Illuminators — rising and emerging leaders whose courage, creativity, and innovation are lighting new paths forward.
Why these names matter: Movement memory keeps us honest. Strategy keeps us effective. Recognition keeps us connected. By celebrating both Legends and Illuminators side by side, we are intentionally bridging histories and futures — honoring elders, uplifting survivors, and spotlighting those whose work and brilliance deserve broader support, protection and visibility.
Who will be included: The Torchbearers will represent leaders across a diverse range of sectors, including community organizing, public service, sports, government, entertainment, business, education, legal industry, health, and the arts — reflecting the breadth and depth of queer leadership today. They include organizers providing direct service late into the night; policy experts shaping budgets and laws; artists and culture workers changing hearts and language; healers and mutual-aid leaders; and those doing the quiet, essential work that sustains us all.
Intersectionality is our core commitment: identity in its fullness matters, and honorees must reflect the depth, diversity, and nuance of queer leadership today.
How you can engage: Nominate, amplify, sponsor, and attend. Use your platforms to uplift these leaders, bring your organization’s resources to sustain their work, and help ensure that recognition translates into real support — funding, capacity, visibility, and protection.
We are excited, humbled, and energized to stand alongside the women and non-binary leaders who have carried us, and those who will carry this work forward. If history teaches us anything, it’s that the boldest change happens when we shine light on one another, and then pass the flame.
YOU CAN MAKE A NOMINATION HERE
June Crenshaw serves as deputy director of the Capital Pride Alliance. Heidi Ellis is founder of HME Consulting & Advocacy.
Commentary
Protecting the trans community is not optional for elected allies and candidates
One of oldest political tactics is blaming vulnerable group for societal woes
Being an ally to the trans community is not a conditional position for me, nor should it be for any candidate. My allyship doesn’t hinge on polling, focus groups, or whether courage feels politically convenient. At a time when trans people, especially trans youth of color, are under coordinated attack, elected officials and candidates must do more than offer quiet support. We must take a public and solid stand.
History shows us how these moments begin. One of the oldest political tactics is to single out the most vulnerable and blame them for society’s anxieties — not because they are responsible, but because they are easier to blame than those with power and protection. In Nazi Germany, Jewish people were primarily targeted, but they were not the only demographic who suffered elimination. LGBTQ people, disabled people, Romani communities, political dissidents, and others were also rounded up, imprisoned, and killed. Among the earliest acts of fascistic repression was the destruction of Berlin’s Institute for Sexual Science, a pioneering center for gender-affirming care and LGBTQ research. These books and medical records were among the first to be confiscated and burned. It is not a coincidence that these same communities are now the first to suffer under this regime, they are our canaries in the coal mine signaling what’s to come.
Congress, emboldened by the rhetoric of the Donald Trump campaign, recently passed HR 3492 to criminalize healthcare workers who provide gender-affirming healthcare with fines and imprisonment. This bill, sponsored by celebrity politicians like Marjorie Taylor Greene, puts politics and headlines over people and health outcomes. Healthcare that a number of cis-gendered people also benefit from byway of hair regeneration and surgery, male and female breast augmentation, hormone replacement therapy etc. Even when these bills targeting this care do not pass, they do real damage. They create fear among patients, legal uncertainty for providers, and instability for clinics that serve the most marginalized people in our communities.
Here in D.C., organizations like Planned Parenthood and Whitman-Walker Health are lifelines for many communities. They provide gender-affirming care alongside primary care, mental health services, HIV treatment, and preventative medicine. When healthcare is politicized or criminalized, people don’t wait for court rulings — they delay care, ration medication, or disappear from the system entirely.
As a pharmacist, I know exactly what that means. These are life-saving medications. Continuity of care matters. Criminalizing and politicizing healthcare does not protect children or families — it puts lives at risk.
Instead of centering these realities, political discourse has been deliberately diverted toward a manufactured panic about trans women in sports. Let me be clear: trans women deserve to be protected and allowed to compete just like anyone else. Athletics have always included people with different bodies, strengths, and abilities. Girls and women will always encounter competitors who are stronger or faster — that is not a gender or sports crisis, it is the nature of competition.
Sports are meant to teach fairness, mutual respect, and the shared spirit of competition — not suspicion or exclusion. We should not police young people’s bodies, and we should reject attempts to single out trans youth as a political distraction. Families and doctors should be the authority on sex and gender identity.
This narrative has been cynically amplified by the right, but too often Democrats have allowed it to take hold rather than forcefully rejecting it. It is imperative to pay attention to what is happening — and to push back against every attempt to dehumanize anyone for political gain.
Trans people have always been part of our communities and our democracy. Protecting the most vulnerable is not radical — it is the foundation of a just society. My work is grounded in that commitment, and I will not waver from it. I’m proud to have hired trans political team Down Ballot to lead my campaign for DC Council At Large. We need more ally leaders of all stages to stand up for the LGBTQ+ community. We must let elected detractors know that when they come for them, then they come for all of us. We cannot allow Fox News and social media trolls to create a narrative that scares us away from protecting marginalized populations. We must stand up and do what’s right.
Anything less is not leadership.
Rep. Oye Owolewa is running for an at-large seat on the D.C. Council.
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