Commentary
The war in Gaza impacts all of us and democracy too
ICJ case accuses Israel of committing genocide against Palestinians in enclave.
BY JULIE DORF | As a leader in the LGBTQI+ movement and co-chair of the U.S.-based foreign policy organization the Council for Global Equality (CGE), I am calling on my colleagues in the progressive foreign policy community to urgently discuss alternative policy solutions to our government’s support of the deadly war in Gaza and collectively begin demanding solutions that respect the dignity, rights and security for all.
The Council for Global Equality (CGE) works at the intersection of international human rights, U.S. foreign policy and LGBTQI+ communities. We primarily focus on influencing the U.S. government’s policies, programs and foreign assistance to do more good in the world, recognizing that our democracy typically only does the right thing when its citizens demand it — whether through elections or ongoing civic engagement by organizations such as ours. We also recognize that, deservedly or not, the United States wields outsized power in the world; as responsible citizens of this mighty country, it is therefore incumbent on us to actively engage and try to direct its power towards good. Our organizational principles include key tenets such as “freedoms abroad and freedoms at home are linked,” “democracy can only be rooted in secular, inclusive values,” “equal treatment is at the heart of human rights” and “one population’s rights cannot transcend those of another.” The full statement of principles is on our website.
When Hamas launched its terrifying attacks in southern Israel on Oct. 7, followed by Israel’s revengeful response in Gaza, I thought at first that this was not a CGE issue. As a progressive Jew, I was mostly consumed by my own relationship with the ongoing occupation and I feared for my friends in the region. I was horrified and heartsick, glued to Al Jazeera and other news sources. But I was not at all surprised by the attack, except perhaps that it had taken this long for a major uprising by Palestinians. I reached out to activists, friends and family in Israel, Palestine, Lebanon and Egypt. I felt no contradiction being equally upset by the loss of lives on all sides and holding multiple truths at once. Yes, Hamas is a terrorist organization that brutally murdered my people. Yes, Israel has been occupying, persecuting, and actively undermining a Palestinian state for its entire existence. And yes, the government of the United States and its Jewish community have both been enabling this horrible injustice for as long as I can remember. This crisis was just more of the same but on a much, much more painful scale.
My position on Palestine and Israel
I grew up in a staunchly Zionist environment, visited the region multiple times (Israel and the West Bank and Gaza,) and evolved through my human rights career into a proud Jewish anti-Zionist. I believe in the land of Israel being a vital, safe and sacred homeland for Jews and Muslims, as well as for Christians, Druze, Armenians, Samaritans and others.
I do not, however, believe in a Jewish supremacist state, which is the way that Israel’s current policies have been constructed, believing that only by having a majority of Jews in the country of Israel can it be a secure Jewish “homeland.” I believe it can and must be a secure homeland for different religions simultaneously. Indeed, if you’ve ever visited Jerusalem, you know it already is a homeland for Jews, Christians, Muslims and Armenians (albeit not safe.) Yes, Netanyahu is perhaps the most far-right authoritarian leader we’ve seen in Israel. But long-time policies from urban development, road construction and water to the separation wall and vast numbers of political prisoners, and other Israeli government policies have been constructed to maintain the supreme rights of Jews over Palestinians. These policies that are intended to maintain inequality by ethnicity are simply inherently incompatible with a genuine democracy. At this moment in the world, when democracy needs to be actively defended in so many countries, an exception clause for Israel is both indefensible and counterproductive.

My political positions on Israel and Palestine have stirred up great pain and conflict in my family and community. But I have been committed to talking to my own people — in this case, American Jews — about these issues because that is where I can have the most influence to make change, however small that may be. Many progressive Jews — and particularly younger generations — share my beliefs but are afraid of being ostracized from their Jewish communities or families or being labeled a “self-hating Jew.” I know that I am a proud Jew.
Antisemitism and anti-Zionism
I am also no stranger to antisemitism — even working in the LGBTQI+ global movement, I have experienced my share of antisemitism. It mostly takes the form of microaggressions, such as comments about “your banker friends in New York” or “I won’t succumb to your Jewish guilt moves.” Then there was the moment when a presenter at a queer conference on closing civic space in Poland used a political cartoon from a local newspaper that had a picture of an Orthodox Jew with a huge nose, wearing a Star of David that said “NGO” on it — but didn’t recognize that NGO was overlaid on a profoundly antisemitic image. Or the time when someone posted a conspiracy theory full of lies that “co-religionist George Soros” was somehow connected West Bank settlement building on a large global queer listserv, and the moderator of the list told me that my concerns were unfounded and that “the post was not antisemitic.” And I’ll definitely never forget when an activist in Malaysia who had never met a Jew before asked to feel my head for my horns. At least they asked for consent!
Today’s genuine rise in antisemitism around the world is more overt and scary. I’m used to armed security guards at the entrances to Jewish institutions such as our schools, museums and synagogues to guard against the occasional violent act of antisemites. But this increased level of hate speech, online antisemitism, Nazis in public and murder threats are understandably terrifying my community. This is precisely why the distinction between this very real rise in antisemitic violence and anti-Zionist expression is critical to distinguish.
It is dangerous for Jews and others to conflate antisemitism with anti-Zionism because that conflation misdirects attention from genuine antisemitic violent threats and increases polarization in a year when our unity to protect democracy is more important than ever. Further, it is terrible for the freedom of thought and speech, undermining legitimate calls for justice for Palestinians and silencing people from expressing their true thoughts and reactions. All these things are harming U.S. foreign policy and making U.S. citizens less safe.
We can agree to disagree about the connotations of “from the river to the sea” or the word “intifada,” but it is not inherently antisemitic to wish for equality in that location or to desire a one-state solution to the conflict between the state of Israel and the stateless citizens of Palestine or to wish to organize peaceful resistance to oppression (such as the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement.) This is legitimate political discourse, essential to finding a peaceful solution to this ongoing conflict, whether that be a one-state, two-state, confederated or some other solution we haven’t yet imagined.

Further complicating matters, progressives tend to minimize antisemitism because of Ashkenazi white skin privilege and class privilege, whether real or imagined. Yet Eastern European Jews weren’t considered “white” for many decades, Sephardic Jews are still not considered “white,” and there is increasing visibility of Jews of color. Regardless of the color of our skin, we’ve not been part of any dominant culture for most of our existence as a people — until the creation of the Israeli state. But in the current leftist paradigm of “settler colonialism” as it applies to the State of Israel (which is, in fact, what the early founders of Israel called themselves), often the role of historical and current antisemitism is either dismissed or ignored. This is problematic and limits solidarity. It adds to the lopsided empathy that occurs in both directions and limits civil discourse and healing.
There is no doubt that antisemitism over time, and particularly the Holocaust, played a critical role in the creation of the state of Israel, as well as in the historical trauma and epigenetic fears that live inside so many of us Jews. That trauma was further inflamed by Hamas’ attack on Oct. 7, just as the trauma of the Nakba was reignited for Gazans when Israel’s counter-attacks began and 90 percent of Gazans were forced to leave their homes, regularly going without food. It might seem obvious that this sense of collective victimhood does not give license to victimize others, but it certainly creates a major blind spot in Jewish identity. It is overdue for Jews around the world — and especially in Israel — to update our story and live up to our stated values as a people committed to “Tikkun Olam,” or to repair the world. As painful as it is, we must take a hard look at the missteps in the history of Israel and rectify them urgently. We must face the current crisis and rise in antisemitism with the clarity that anti-Zionism is not synonymous with antisemitism. We must also be able to sit with the discomfort or sense of threat from anti-Zionist arguments or even chants, or genuine discourse about a different role for the U.S. vis-à-vis Israel, rather than reflexively labeling all of that antisemitic.
Legitimacy in global movements
So, when activists in the Middle East began asking queer groups to show up in solidarity with Palestine and, in particular, to join the calls for a ceasefire, I had no problem as a co-chair of CGE to craft a statement on behalf of our organization. It was not only consistent with our stated principles, but it was also a question of legitimacy for us in our global movement. What so many Americans do not quite understand is that much of the world considers Israel a pariah state; as such, the “special relationship” the United States maintains with a country considered akin to apartheid South Africa is very hard to explain or defend. Yet here in the United States, we get a totally different perspective, highly influenced by the commercial media, by mainstream Jewish community institutions (many of which are quite out of step with their own constituents, particularly younger people) and also by the strong forces of the intensely Zionist Christian right (Did you know that Christians United for Israel has more members than AIPAC?) And perhaps, as Peter Beinart posits, as Americans, we identify unconsciously with Israelis because we, too, do not wish to rectify our past treatment of Native Americans in our own founding of our country. This creates a grossly asymmetrical empathy for the “Israeli side” (which, by the way, is hardly monolithic) for many in the United States.
Yet, for many of us in the fields of international human rights, global development, or foreign policy, we engage regularly with colleagues outside of the United States who have a more balanced concern for the Palestinians. Indeed, we cannot do our work very effectively without such solidarity and trusted relationships. Consequently, it is very difficult to sustain an organizational position that justifies the levels of U.S. aid to Israel (over $3B annually,) particularly the extra $14.5B in military aid for their war on Gaza, some of it circumventing required congressional notifications, which everyone knows by now has overwhelmingly killed civilians and children and over 20,000 people. Then to see that with the U.S. government’s enormous investment, the Israeli military and intelligence could be so arrogantly incompetent, caught without any plan or reasonable response to the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks, makes that incredibly large investment even more questionable. And yet, most D.C. organizations still simply shy away from this issue.
Pinkwashing and impact on the LGBTQI+ movement
For the global LGBTQI+ movement, “pinkwashing” has further enraged many in queer communities across the globe. Pinkwashing is the promotion by the Israeli government (or any other government) of its pro-LGBTQI+ policies to intentionally distract from its human rights abuses against Palestinians (or other horrific rights abuses.) In truth, all the rights that have been disingenuously touted by the Israeli government to show a contrast to surrounding Arab states in the region were hard-fought and won by the country’s LGBTQI+ community itself through the courts, not simply handed to the community by the State of Israel. This has been a key part of the intentional campaign by the Israeli government to maintain an image that the country is more similar to Western democracies and, therefore, more deserving of their support.
But in many ways, it has backfired when it comes to LGBTQI+ communities and certainly alienated Israeli LGBTQI+ civil society from the global movement, and in particular from other LGBTQI+ organizations in the region. It is considered so taboo to be connected to Israel that no other Middle East or North Africa (MENA) representatives would show up to a queer MENA event if Israeli civil society were even invited. (And, yes, there are LGBTQI+ groups large and small in Jordan, Lebanon, Iraq, Iran, Tunisia, Morocco, etc.) Israel’s pinkwashing also helped spawn stronger queer support for Palestinians and for the BDS movement. A clear example of this pinkwashing continues now during the war, when the State of Israel’s official X (formerly Twitter) account showed an IDF soldier unfurling a rainbow flag in front of a tank in Gaza and another one, claiming to be “in the name of love,” in front of a destroyed village. For many of us, this was beyond offensive, it was stomach-churning.

For all of these reasons, CGE issued our statement calling for a ceasefire in late October. Most of our organizational members were very pleased with its release, except for the ADL, which chose to end its membership in CGE over our differences on this issue. Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, both long-standing CGE members, have strongly criticized this war, documenting war crimes and other human rights violations, both by the Israeli state against Palestinian civilians and by Hamas against Israeli citizens. But other than those large human rights organizations, the most vocal members of the foreign policy community in Washington have been the large humanitarian assistance providers, which have passionately argued for a ceasefire. The visible resistance by Jewish Voice for Peace and other progressive Jewish organizations, together with Palestinian rights organizations, have been the primary other civil society entities articulating a different vision for U.S. policy on Israel and Palestine. Between the street protests, potentially losing the next generation’s vote, and the upset from federal employees themselves, this does seem to be getting the Biden-Harris administration’s attention, forcing very small shifts toward using its leverage to reign in Israel’s military violence.
Where is the US foreign policy community?
So, where is the rest of the Washington foreign policy community? Clearly, others must have similar concerns for their credibility with partners around the world during this crisis and feel uneasy every day as the news appears. How can we not do better than this to hold our government accountable to our values of equality and justice? Where are the media watchdog organizations and why are they not challenging such asymmetrical coverage of the war? I understand that people are scared to “take a side,” to offend someone, to lose big donors and to lose legitimacy in the eyes of our U.S. government allies. God forbid we get canceled by saying the wrong thing or making a mistake.
But we must do better than that; we must have the courage to advocate for a more balanced U.S. policy on Israel and Palestine and to call on the Biden administration to be a more honest broker in the conflict. If foreign policymakers believe that the United States needs to be Israel’s best friend, to be a trusted nation they will listen to, then we certainly have paid our dues by now. We must leverage decades of expensive investments more strategically and effectively.
It is time for the progressive foreign policy community in the United States, together with principled Jewish organizations, Palestinian leaders and others sincerely invested in peace to come together to articulate a better way forward for U.S. foreign policy. We must demand conditions on U.S. aid, not just on ending illegal settlement building in the West Bank, but on actually dismantling settlements if the U.S.-stated policy goal of helping to create a Palestinian state is sincere. We must condition military aid appropriately to avoid its use in war crimes. We must demand and help secure the release of Palestinian leaders in Israeli prisons who could become the more legitimate, moderate leaders of the next iteration of the Palestinian Authority. This would undermine the Hamas movement far more effectively than the current military campaign is doing by offering better leadership options. We must demand the release of the Israeli hostages in Gaza and the Palestinian political prisoners in Israel. And we must end the immense blank check support of billions of taxpayer dollars to Israel by requiring a genuine restart of peace negotiations. These are just some of the policies that we should be advocating for – the point is that we need to have those debates as a matter of urgency within our own foreign policy communities in Washington.
As an LGBTQI+ U.S. foreign policy organization, we should be a part of those discussions, not just because queer Palestinians and queer Israelis are impacted, and not just because it’s urgently critical for the safety of all Palestinians and Israelis, but because, indeed, we are all impacted. Americans will be safer. Jews will be safer. Democracy might even be safer.
Julie Dorf is the co-chair of the Council for Global Equality.
Commentary
‘Live Your Pride’ is much more than a slogan
Waves Ahead forced to cancel May 17 event in Puerto Rico
On May 5, I spoke by phone with Wilfred Labiosa, executive director of Waves Ahead, a Puerto Rico-based LGBTQ community organization that for years has provided mental health services, support programs, and safe spaces for vulnerable communities across the island. During our conversation, Labiosa confirmed every concern described in the organization’s public statement announcing the cancellation of “Live Your Pride,” an event scheduled for Sunday in the northwestern municipality of Isabela. But beyond the financial struggles and organizational challenges, what stayed with me most was the emotional weight behind his words. There was pain in his voice while describing what it means to watch spaces like these slowly disappear.
This was not simply the cancellation of a community event.
“Live Your Pride” had been envisioned as a celebration and affirming gathering for LGBTQ older adults and their allies in Puerto Rico. In a society where many LGBTQ elders spent decades hiding parts of themselves in order to survive, spaces like this carry enormous emotional and social significance. They become places where people can finally exist openly, without fear, apology, or shame.
That is why this cancellation matters far beyond Isabela.
What is happening in Puerto Rico cannot be separated from the broader political climate unfolding across the U.S. and its territories, where programs connected to diversity, inclusion, education, mental health, and LGBTQ visibility increasingly find themselves under political attack. These changes do not always arrive through dramatic announcements. More often, they happen quietly. Funding disappears. Community organizations weaken. Safe spaces become harder to sustain. Eventually, the absence itself begins to feel normal.
That normalization is dangerous.
For years, organizations like Waves Ahead have stepped into gaps left behind by institutions and governments, particularly in communities where LGBTQ people continue facing discrimination, social isolation, economic instability, and mental health struggles. Their work has never been limited to organizing events. It has involved accompanying people through loneliness, trauma, rejection, depression, aging, and survival itself.
“Live Your Pride” represented much more than entertainment. It represented visibility for LGBTQ older adults, many of whom survived decades of family rejection, religious exclusion, workplace discrimination, violence, and silence. These are individuals who came of age during years when living openly could cost someone employment, housing, relationships, or personal safety. Many learned to survive by making themselves invisible.
When spaces like this disappear, something deeply human is lost.
A gathering is canceled, yes, but so is an opportunity for healing, connection, recognition, and dignity. For many LGBTQ older adults, especially in smaller municipalities across Puerto Rico, these events are not secondary luxuries. They are reminders that their lives still matter in a society that too often treats aging and queer existence as disposable.
There are still political and religious sectors that portray the rainbow as some kind of ideological threat. But the rainbow does not erase anyone. It illuminates people and stories that society has often tried to ignore. It reflects the lives of young people forced out of their homes, transgender individuals targeted by violence, older adults aging in silence, and families that spent years defending their right to exist openly.
Perhaps that is precisely why the rainbow unsettles some people so deeply.
Its colors expose abandonment, hypocrisy, inequality, and fear. They force societies to confront realities that are easier to ignore than to address honestly. They reveal how fragile human dignity becomes when political agendas decide that certain communities are no longer worthy of protection, funding, or visibility.
The greatest concern here is not solely the cancellation of one event in one Puerto Rican town. The deeper concern is the message quietly taking shape behind decisions like these — the idea that some communities can wait, that some lives deserve fewer resources, and that safe spaces for vulnerable people are expendable during moments of political tension.
History has shown repeatedly how social regression begins. Rarely with one dramatic act. More often through exhaustion, silence, budget cuts, and the slow dismantling of organizations doing essential community work.
Even so, Waves Ahead made one thing clear in its statement. Although “Live Your Pride” has been canceled, the organization will continue providing mental health and community support services through its centers across Puerto Rico. That commitment matters because people do not survive on slogans alone. They survive because somewhere there are still open doors, trained professionals, supportive communities, and people willing to remain present when the world becomes colder and more hostile.
Puerto Rico should pay close attention to what this moment represents. No healthy society is built by weakening the organizations that care for vulnerable people. No government should feel comfortable watching community groups struggle to survive while attempting to provide services and compassion that public institutions themselves often fail to offer.
The rainbow has never been the problem.
The real problem is the discomfort created when its colors force society to confront the wounds, inequalities, and human realities that too many people would rather keep hidden.
Commentary
He is 16 and sitting in a Cuban prison
Jonathan David Muir Burgos arrested after participating in anti-government protests
Jonathan David Muir Burgos is 16-years-old, and that fact alone should force the world to stop and pay attention. He is not an armed criminal, nor a violent extremist, nor someone accused of harming others. He is a Cuban teenager who ended up behind bars after joining recent protests in the city of Morón, in the province of Ciego de Ávila, demonstrations born out of exhaustion, desperation, and the growing collapse of daily life across the island.
Those protests did not emerge from privilege or political theater. They erupted after prolonged blackouts, food shortages, lack of drinking water, unbearable heat, and a level of public frustration that continues to deepen inside Cuba. People took to the streets because ordinary life itself has become increasingly unbearable. Families are surviving for hours and sometimes days without electricity. Parents struggle to find food. Entire communities live trapped between scarcity and silence.
Jonathan became part of that reality.
And today, he is sitting inside a Cuban prison.
The World Health Organization defines adolescence as the stage between approximately 10 and 19 years of age, a period marked by emotional, psychological, and physical development. That matters deeply here because Jonathan is not simply a “young protester.” He is a minor. A teenager still navigating the fragile years in which identity, emotional stability, and personal growth are being formed.
Yet the Cuban government chose to place him inside a high-security prison alongside adults.
There is something profoundly disturbing about a political system willing to expose a 16-year-old boy to the psychological brutality of prison life simply because he exercised the right to protest. A prison is never only walls and bars. It is fear, humiliation, emotional pressure, intimidation, and uncertainty. For a teenager surrounded by adult inmates, those dangers become even more alarming.
The situation becomes even more serious because Jonathan reportedly suffers from severe dyshidrosis and has previously experienced dangerous bacterial infections affecting his health. His condition requires proper medical care, hygiene, and adequate treatment, precisely the kind of stability that is difficult to guarantee inside the Cuban prison system.
Behind this story there is also a family living through a kind of pain impossible to fully describe.
Jonathan is the son of a Cuban evangelical pastor. Behind the headlines there is a mother wondering how her child is sleeping at night inside a prison cell. There is a father trying to hold onto faith while imagining the emotional and physical risks his teenage son may be facing behind bars. Faith does not erase fear. Faith does not prevent parents from trembling when their child is imprisoned.
And this is where another painful contradiction emerges.
While a Cuban pastor watches his son remain incarcerated, there are still political and religious voices outside Cuba romanticizing the Cuban regime from a safe distance. There are people who speak passionately about justice while remaining silent about political prisoners, repression, censorship, and now even the imprisonment of adolescents.
That silence matters.
Because silence protects systems that normalize abuse.
For too long, parts of the international community have spoken about Cuba through ideological nostalgia while refusing to confront the human cost paid by ordinary Cubans. The reality is not romantic. The reality is families surviving in darkness, young people fleeing the country in massive numbers, parents struggling to feed their children, and now a 16-year-old boy sitting inside a prison after joining a protest born from desperation.
No government has the moral right to destroy the emotional and psychological well-being of a teenager for exercising freedom of expression. No ideology should stand above human dignity. And no institution that claims to defend justice should remain indifferent while a child becomes a political prisoner.
Jonathan David Muir Burgos should not be in prison.
A 16-year-old boy should not have to pay for protest with his freedom.
Commentary
Celebrate Pride in Lost River, a slice of rural heaven
West Virginia LGBTQ getaway hosts events June 12-14
“Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong, West Virginia …” Those immortal lyrics describe one of the best-kept secrets for LGBTQ Washingtonians: Lost River, W.Va.
Less than 2.5 hours from the D.C. metro area, Lost River, in Hardy County, W.Va., is a haven for LGBTQ Mountaineers and our nearby city neighbors. From queer-owned businesses and artwork to a vibrant community of LGBTQ residents, Lost River has been a destination for LGBTQ visitors seeking a mountain getaway for nearly 50 years. For some, our rural community has become home for those who want to trade city life for country living.
Because Lost River welcomes all, we celebrate Pride each year in our slice of heaven.
Lost River Pride Weekend will be held June 12–14, the weekend prior to Capital Pride. If you haven’t been, our Pride is a little different from the urban Pride events most people are used to. In Lost River, forget the multinational corporate sponsors. Instead, think about local talent, grassroots community organizations, and our version of patriotism on full display. Most of all, we welcome people from all walks of life to live authentically as themselves, regardless of where they come from, how they think, or how they love. We truly welcome everyone.
Coincidentally, Lost River Pride Weekend is being held on President Trump’s birthday weekend, including a variety of traffic-jamming events in the D.C. area and the upcoming fight on the White House lawn. Why not come visit Lost River for the day or the weekend (we have some wonderful places to stay) and get a taste of West Virginia living?
While our town has only about 500 people at any given time, we swell to over twice that during Pride weekend. Friday evening includes an intimate cabaret at the Inn at Lost River (whose general store is on the National Register of Historic Places). Our centerpiece, the Lost River Pride Festival, is hosted on Saturday at the local farmers market, followed by an afternoon drag pool performance and an evening performance by the world-renowned Tom Goss at the Guesthouse Lost River. Finally, we finish the weekend with a closing brunch at the Inn to reaffirm our Pride. In between events and throughout the weekend, visitors and locals indulge in local art, restaurants, and more.
We recognize that West Virginia isn’t always seen as welcoming to LGBTQ people. State law does not protect against discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity, and cultural stereotypes remain persistent. Additionally, trans girls are prohibited from participating in sports of their affirmed gender in schools. In a state considered one of the most conservative, it can be difficult to see progress.
However, our community exists to prove that progress is possible. In fact, due to the work of statewide groups such as Fairness WV, 21 municipalities have passed local ordinances prohibiting discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity, covering more than 13 percent of the West Virginian population. Last year, Lost River Pride sponsored the first-ever equal cash prize for the nonbinary category of the Lost River Classic, a local bike race held annually. There is hope in every corner of our community.
Recently, Lost River Pride was the only West Virginia contingent in the 2025 World Pride Parade, which was held during Capital Pride Weekend. I will always remember our rugged truck coming down 14th Street to a sea of diverse, friendly faces, while waving our state flag and hearing many voices singing “Country Roads” in every remix available (trust me, there are many).
Lost River Pride is one of only a handful of Pride organizations in West Virginia and one of the few structured as a nonprofit. We sponsor the only LGBTQ scholarship in Eastern West Virginia for a graduating senior from a local high school. Moreover, we provide monthly community programming and make frequent donations to local allied nonprofits, including the fire department, food pantry, and schools.
I encourage you to attend Lost River Pride Weekend, especially this year’s Lost River Pride Festival on Saturday, June 13, from 12-4 p.m., at the Lost River Farmers Market (1089 Mill Gap Road, Lost City, W.Va. 26810). Feel free to reach us at [email protected] or visit our website at lostriverpride.org for more information.
Tim Savoy is president of the board of directors of Lost River Pride.
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