National
From LGBTQ book bans to internet bans: A bipartisan attack on knowledge
Online safe spaces for queer youth increasingly at risk
“They had LGBTQ-inclusive books in every single classroom and school library,” Maxx Fenning says of his high school experience. “They were even working on LGBTQ-specific course codes to get approved by the state,” he said, describing courses on queer studies and LGBTQ Black history.
No, Fenning didn’t grow up in Portland or a Boston suburb. Fenning graduated from a South Florida high school in 2020. Florida’s transformation from mostly affirming to “Don’t Say Gay” has been swift, he says. “It feels like a parallel universe.”
Fenning, who just graduated from the University of Florida, follows the developments closely as the executive director of PRISM FL Inc., a youth-led LGBTQ nonprofit he founded at 17. “I’ve watched so many of the things that I kind of took advantage of be stripped away from all of the students that came after me,” Fenning says. “It’s one thing to be in an environment that’s not supportive of you. It’s another thing to be in an environment that’s supportive of you and then watch it fall apart.”
“It’s just gut-wrenching,” Fenning explained, describing how Florida’s increasingly hostile legislation has transformed the state he has lived in most of his life.
Most recently, Florida passed HB3, “Online Protections for Minors,” which bans youth under 14 from having social media accounts. Youths aged 14 and 15 need parental consent before getting accounts and any minor must be protected from “harmful content” online.
Unlike the previous legislation, which came predominately from the right and directly targeted issues like gender-affirming healthcare or DEI, HB3 is part of a bipartisan push across the country to regulate social media, specifically for youth. HB3 was co-sponsored by Michele K. Rayner, the openly queer Black member of the Florida Legislature, alongside many of her colleagues across the aisle. Similar national legislation, like Kids Online Safety Act, includes 68 Democratic and Republican sponsors.
Shae Gardner, policy director at LGBT Tech, explains that this legislation disproportionately harms LGBTQ youth, regardless of intentions or sponsors.
Gardner says that while all these bills claim they are for the safety of kids, for LGBTQ youth, “you are putting them at risk if you keep them offline.” She explains that “a majority of LGBTQ youth do not have access to affirming spaces in their homes and their communities. They go online to look like that. A majority say online spaces are affirming.”
Research by the Trevor Project, which reports that more than 80% of LGBTQ youth “feel safe and understood in specific online spaces” backs this up. Specific online spaces that are under target from legislation, like TikTok, are disproportionately spaces where LGBTQ youth of color feel safest.
“For LGBTQ people, social media has provided spaces, which are, at once both public and private, that encourage, and enhance … a great deal of self-expression that is so important for these communities,” confirms Dr. Paromita Pain, professor, Global Media Studies & Cybersecurity at University of Nevada, Reno. She is the editor of the books “Global LGBTQ Activism” and “LGBTQ digital cultures.”
Fenning emphasizes that with bills like “Don’t Say Gay,” in Florida — and other states including North Carolina, Arkansas, Iowa, and Indiana — LGBTQ youth have less access to vital information about their health and history. “Social media [are] where young people increasingly turn to get information about their community, their history, their bodies and themselves.”
At PRISM, Fenning works to get accurate, fact-backed information to Florida youth through these pathways, ranging from information on health and wellbeing to LGBTQ history to current events. The feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. Often youth tell him “I wish I learned this in school,” which is a bittersweet feeling for Fenning since it represents how much young LGBTQ youth are missing out on in their education.
Morgan Mayfaire, executive director of TransSOCIAL, a Florida advocacy group, said that these internet bans are an extension of book bans, because when he was a teen, books were his pathway into the LGBTQ community. “For me it was the library and the bookstores that we knew were LGBTQ friendly.” Now 65, Mayfaire understands that “kids today have grown up with the internet. That’s where they get all their information. You start closing this off, and you’re basically boxing them in and closing every single avenue that they have. What do you think is going to happen? Of course, it’s going to have an impact emotionally and mentally.”
Fenning says that social media and the internet were powerful to him as a teen. “I was able to really come into my own and learn about myself also through social media. It was really powerful for me, building a sense of self.” Gardner agrees, sharing that legislation like this, which would have limited “15-year-old me, searching ‘if it was OK to be gay’ online, would have stagnated my journey into finding out who I was.”
Gardner also explains that many of the bills, like HB3, limit content that is “harmful” or “obscene” but do not specifically define what that content is. Those definitions can be used to limit LGBTQ content.
“Existing content moderation tools already over-censor LGBTQ+ content and users,” says Gardner, “they have a hard time distinguishing between sexual content and LGBTQ+ content.” Pain emphasizes that this is no accident, “there are algorithms that have been created to specifically keep these communities out.”
With the threat of fines and litigation from HB3, says Gardner, “moderation tools and the platforms that use them is only going to worsen,” especially since the same legislators may use the same terms to define other queer content like family-friendly drag performances.
In addition to being biased, it has devastating effects on LGBTQ youth understanding of their sense of identity, Fenning explains. “That perception of queer people as being overly sexual or their relationships and love being inherently sexual in a way that other relationships aren’t does harm to our community.”
Gardner acknowledges that online safety has a long way to go — pointing to online harassment, cybercrime, and data privacy—but that these bills are not the correct pathways. She emphasizes “everybody’s data could be better protected, and that should be happening on a federal level. First and foremost, that should be the floor of protection.”
She also emphasizes that content moderation has a long way to go from targeting the LGBTQ community to protecting it. “Trans users are the most harassed of any demographic across the board. That is the conversation I wish we were having, instead of just banning kids from being online in the first place.”
Being queer on the ground in Florida is scary. “The community is very fearful. This [legislation] has a big impact on us,” explains Mayfaire.
“I mean, it sucks. Right?” Fenning chuckles unhappily, “to be a queer person in Florida. In a state that feels like it is just continuously doing everything it can to destroy your life and all facets and then all realms.”
Despite the legislative steamrolling, several court wins and coordinated action by LGBTQ activists help residents see a brighter future. “There’s a weird tinge of hope that that has really been carrying so many queer people and I know myself especially this year as we’re seeing the rescinding of so many of these harmful policies and laws.”
For example, this March, Florida settled a challenge to its “Don’t Say Gay” legislation that significantly lessens its impact. Already, experts warn that HB3 will face legal challenges.
Pain emphasizes that social media is central to LGBTQ activism, especially in Florida. “There have been examples of various movements, where social media has been used extremely effectively, to put across voices to highlight issues that they would not have otherwise had a chance to talk about,” she says, specifically citing counteraction to “Don’t Say Gay.” That is another reason why legislation like this disproportionately harms LGBTQ people and other minority groups, it limits their ability to organize.
Fenning emphasizes that HB3 directly attacks spaces like PRISM, which do not just share information for the LGBTQ community, but provide spaces for them. “Foundationally it provides an opportunity for the community,” he says, but more than anything, it provides a space, where “you can you can learn from your queer ancestors, so to speak, and take charge.” And that is invaluable.
(This story is part of the Digital Equity Local Voices Fellowship lab through News is Out. The lab initiative is made possible with support from Comcast NBCUniversal.)
U.S. Supreme Court
Activists rally for Andry Hernández Romero in front of Supreme Court
Gay asylum seeker ‘forcibly deported’ to El Salvador, described as political prisoner
More than 200 people gathered in front of the U.S. Supreme Court on Friday and demanded the Trump-Vance administration return to the U.S. a gay Venezuelan asylum seeker who it “forcibly disappeared” to El Salvador.
Lindsay Toczylowski, president of the Immigrant Defenders Law Center, a Los Angeles-based organization that represents Andry Hernández Romero, is among those who spoke alongside U.S. Rep. Mark Takano (D-Calif.) and Human Rights Campaign Campaigns and Communications Vice President Jonathan Lovitz. Sarah Longwell of the Bulwark, Pod Save America’s Jon Lovett, and Tim Miller are among those who also participated in the rally.
“Andry is a son, a brother. He’s an actor, a makeup artist,” said Toczylowski. “He is a gay man who fled Venezuela because it was not safe for him to live there as his authentic self.”
(Video by Michael K. Lavers)
The White House on Feb. 20 designated Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan gang, as an “international terrorist organization.”
President Donald Trump on March 15 invoked the Alien Enemies Act of 1798, which the Associated Press notes allows the U.S. to deport “noncitizens without any legal recourse.” The Trump-Vance administration subsequently “forcibly removed” Hernández and hundreds of other Venezuelans to El Salvador.
Toczylowski said she believes Hernández remains at El Salvador’s Terrorism Confinement Center, a maximum-security prison known by the Spanish acronym CECOT. Toczylowski also disputed claims that Hernández is a Tren de Aragua member.
“Andry fled persecution in Venezuela and came to the U.S. to seek protection. He has no criminal history. He is not a member of the Tren de Aragua gang. Yet because of his crown tattoos, we believe at this moment that he sits in a torture prison, a gulag, in El Salvador,” said Toczylowski. “I say we believe because we have not had any proof of life for him since the day he was put on a U.S. government-funded plane and forcibly disappeared to El Salvador.”
“Andry is not alone,” she added.
Takano noted the federal government sent his parents, grandparents, and other Japanese Americans to internment camps during World War II under the Alien Enemies Act. The gay California Democrat also described Hernández as “a political prisoner, denied basic rights under a law that should have stayed in the past.”
“He is not a case number,” said Takano. “He is a person.”
Hernández had been pursuing his asylum case while at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in San Diego.
A hearing had been scheduled to take place on May 30, but an immigration judge the day before dismissed his case. Immigrant Defenders Law Center has said it will appeal the decision to the Board of Immigration Appeals, which the Justice Department oversees.
“We will not stop fighting for Andry, and I know neither will you,” said Toczylowski.
Friday’s rally took place hours after Attorney General Pam Bondi said Kilmar Abrego Garcia, a Maryland man who the Trump-Vance administration wrongfully deported to El Salvador, had returned to the U.S. Abrego will face federal human trafficking charges in Tennessee.
National
A husband’s story: Michael Carroll reflects on life with Edmund White
Iconic author died this week; ‘no sunnier human in the world’
Unlike most gay men of my generation, I’ve only been to Fire Island twice. Even so, the memory of my first visit has never left me. The scenery was lovely, and the boys were sublime — but what stood out wasn’t the beach or the parties. It was a quiet afternoon spent sipping gin and tonics in a mid-century modern cottage tucked away from the sand and sun.
Despite Fire Island’s reputation for hedonism, our meeting was more accident than escapade. Michael Carroll — a Facebook friend I’d chatted with but never met — mentioned that he and his husband, Ed, would be there that weekend, too. We agreed to meet for a drink. On a whim, I checked his profile and froze. Ed was author Edmund White.
I packed a signed copy of Carroll’s “Little Reef” and a dog-eared hardback of “A Boy’s Own Story,” its spine nearly broken from rereads. I was excited to meet both men and talk about writing, even briefly.
Yesterday, I woke to the news that Ed had passed away. Ironically, my first thought was of Michael.
This week, tributes to Edmund White are everywhere — rightly celebrating his towering legacy as a novelist, essayist, and cultural icon. I’ve read all of his books, and I could never do justice to the scope of a career that defined and chronicled queer life for more than half a century. I’ll leave that to better-prepared journalists.
But in those many memorials, I’ve noticed something missing. When Michael Carroll is mentioned, it’s usually just a passing reference: “White’s partner of thirty years, twenty-five years his junior.” And yet, in the brief time I spent with this couple on Fire Island, it was clear to me that Michael was more than a footnote — he was Ed’s anchor, editor, companion, and champion. He was the one who knew his husband best.
They met in 1995 after Michael wrote Ed a fan letter to tell him he was coming to Paris. “He’d lost the great love of his life a year before,” Michael told me. “In one way, I filled a space. Understand, I worshiped this man and still do.”
When I asked whether there was a version of Ed only he knew, Michael answered without hesitation: “No sunnier human in the world, obvious to us and to people who’ve only just or never met him. No dark side. Psychology had helped erase that, I think, or buffed it smooth.”
Despite the age difference and divergent career arcs, their relationship was intellectually and emotionally symbiotic. “He made me want to be elegant and brainy; I didn’t quite reach that, so it led me to a slightly pastel minimalism,” Michael said. “He made me question my received ideas. He set me free to have sex with whoever I wanted. He vouchsafed my moods when they didn’t wobble off axis. Ultimately, I encouraged him to write more minimalistically, keep up the emotional complexity, and sleep with anyone he wanted to — partly because I wanted to do that too.”
Fully open, it was a committed relationship that defied conventional categories. Ed once described it as “probably like an 18th-century marriage in France.” Michael elaborated: “It means marriage with strong emotion — or at least a tolerance for one another — but no sex; sex with others. I think.”
That freedom, though, was always anchored in deep devotion and care — and a mutual understanding that went far beyond art, philosophy, or sex. “He believed in freedom and desire,” Michael said, “and the two’s relationship.”
When I asked what all the essays and articles hadn’t yet captured, Michael paused. “Maybe that his writing was tightly knotted, but that his true personality was vulnerable, and that he had the defense mechanisms of cheer and optimism to conceal that vulnerability. But it was in his eyes.”
The moment that captured who Ed was to him came at the end. “When he was dying, his second-to-last sentence (garbled then repeated) was, ‘Don’t forget to pay Merci,’ the cleaning lady coming the next day. We had had a rough day, and I was popping off like a coach or dad about getting angry at his weakness and pushing through it. He took it almost like a pack mule.”
Edmund White’s work shaped generations — it gave us language for desire, shame, wit, and liberation. But what lingers just as powerfully is the extraordinary life Ed lived with a man who saw him not only as a literary giant but as a real person: sunny, complex, vulnerable, generous.
In the end, Ed’s final words to his husband weren’t about his books or his legacy. They were about care, decency, and love. “You’re good,” he told Michael—a benediction, a farewell, maybe even a thank-you.
And now, as the world celebrates the prolific writer and cultural icon Edmund White, it feels just as important to remember the man and the person who knew him best. Not just the story but the characters who stayed to see it through to the end.
District of Columbia
In town for WorldPride? Take a D.C. LGBTQ walking tour
Scenes of protest, celebration, and mourning
As Washington welcomes the world for WorldPride, it’s essential to honor the city’s deep-rooted LGBTQ history—an integral part of the broader story of the nation’s capital. The following locations have served as cornerstones of queer life and activism in D.C., shaping both local and national movements for LGBTQ rights. So take a walk around “the gayest city in America” and check out these sites.
DUPONT CIRCLE AREA
Dupont Circle
Central hub of LGBTQ life since the early 20th century, hosting Pride parades, Dyke Marches, and cruising culture. A long-standing site of protests and celebrations.
Washington Hilton – 1919 Connecticut Ave NW
Hosted D.C.’s first major hotel drag event in 1968 and the iconic Miss Adams Morgan Pageant. Protested in 1978 during Anita Bryant’s appearance.
Lesbian Avengers – 1426 21st St NW
Formed in 1992, the group empowered lesbians through bold direct actions. They met in Dupont Circle and launched the city’s first Dyke March.
Lambda Rising Bookstore (former) – 1724 20th Street NW
D.C.’s first LGBTQ bookstore and the birthplace of the city’s inaugural Pride celebration in 1975.
Women In The Life (former office) – 1623 Connecticut Ave NW
Founded in 1993 by Sheila Alexander-Reid as a safe space and support network for lesbians of color.
17th Street NW Corridor – Between P & R Streets NW
Core of the LGBTQ business district, home to the annual High Heel Race in October and the June Block Party celebrating the origins of D.C. Pride.
CAPITOL HILL / SOUTHEAST
Tracks (former) – 80 M St SE
Once D.C.’s largest gay club, famous for inclusive parties, RuPaul shows, and foam nights from 1984 to 2000.
Ziegfeld’s / The Other Side – 1345 Half Street SE
Legendary drag venue since 1978, hosting famed performers like Ella Fitzgerald.
Club 55 / Waaay Off Broadway – 55 K Street SE
Converted theater central to D.C.’s early drag and Academy pageant scenes.
Congressional Cemetery – 1801 E Street SE
Resting place of LGBTQ figures like Sgt. Leonard Matlovich and Peter Doyle. Offers queer history tours.
Mr. Henry’s – 601 Pennsylvania Ave SE
LGBTQ-friendly bar since 1966 and the launching stage for Roberta Flack’s career.
The Furies Collective House – 219 11th Street SE
Home to a 1970s lesbian feminist collective that published “The Furies.” Members included Rita Mae Brown.
ARCHIVES / PENN QUARTER
Archives Metro & Center Market Site – 7th St & Pennsylvania Ave NW
Where Walt Whitman met Peter Doyle in 1865, commemorated by a sculpture linking Whitman and poet Fernando Pessoa.
COLUMBIA HEIGHTS / PETWORTH
Palm Ballroom (former) – 4211 9th Street NW
Mid-20th century venue for Black drag balls and LGBTQ events during segregation.
NATIONAL MALL AREA
National Mall / Washington Monument Grounds
Historic site of LGBTQ activism and remembrance, including the 1987 display of the AIDS Memorial Quilt and a mass same-sex wedding. Hosted major civil rights marches in 1979, 1987, and 1993.
NORTHWEST DC
Dr. Franklin E. Kameny House – 5020 Cathedral Ave NW
Home of gay rights pioneer Frank Kameny and the Mattachine Society of Washington; now a national landmark.
LAFAYETTE SQUARE / WHITE HOUSE
Lafayette Park – Pennsylvania Ave & 16th St NW
Historic gay cruising area and epicenter of government surveillance during the Lavender Scare.
Data from: SSecret City by James Kirchick, The Deviant’s War by Frank Kameny, Brett Beemyn, The Rainbow History Project, NPS Archives, Washington Blade Archives.
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