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Dawn of a new era of Pride politics

Remembering a time when High Heel Race was banned

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The High Heel Race in 1990. (Washington Blade archive photo by Doug Hinckle)

In conjunction with World Pride 2025, the Rainbow History Project is creating an exhibit on the evolution of Pride. In “Dawn of a New Era of Pride Politics,” we discuss how fewer than a dozen picketers in the 1960s grew the political power to celebrate openness, address police brutality, and rally hundreds of thousands to demand federal action.

By the mid-1980s, the LGBTQ community’s political demands and influence had grown. The AIDS crisis took center stage across the nation and locally. Pride events morphed from the entertainment of the 1970s into speeches, rallies, and protests. Groups like ACT UP, Inner City Aids Network, and GLAA made protests and public pressure year-round events, not just Gay Pride Day. Blacklight, which was the first national Black gay periodical, ran an in-depth cover story on AIDS and its impact on the community in 1983:

“The gay community has to think in terms of what it can do to reduce the incidence of AIDS,” a writer noted in the Q&A section of the article. He added, “If your partner has AIDS that doesn’t mean one shouldn’t show care and concern, and just throw him out… There should be support groups that would help gay people who have AIDS and not just shun them.”

Just about 10 years later, however, support extended to activism, the onus not just on gay people to reduce the incidence of AIDS. On Oct. 11, 1992, ACT UP protesters threw the ashes of their loved ones onto the White House lawn to protest government inaction and negligence.

“If you won’t come to the funeral, we’ll bring the funeral to you,” one protester said about President Bush, according to the National Park Service. 

The Ashes Action and many other protests brought awareness to the issues of the day – the epidemic, government ignorance, and police brutality, among others.

When the first High Heel Race began on Halloween 1986 at JR.’s Bar and Grill, a popular 17th Street gay bar, about 25 drag queens ran up 17th Street, N.W., in their high heels from JR.’s to the upstairs bar at Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse, where they then took a shot and ran back to JR.’s. It was joyous and grew in popularity yearly despite impacting the locals’ “peace, order, and quiet,” according to the Washington Blade in 1991.

In 1990, though, pushback from the neighborhood community against the High Heel Race meant its official cancellation in 1991 – no coordinators, no queens, and no planning. However, despite statements that it wouldn’t occur, people still came. Roughly 100 police officers arrived to break up the crowd for causing a public disturbance. They injured people with nightsticks and arrested four gay men. D.C. residents Drew Banks and Dan Reichard planned to file brutality charges, and lesbian activist Yayo Grassi had her video camera, recording the scene.

“This will set back a lot of the good will between the Gay community and the police,” said Tracy Conaty, former co-chair of the Gay Men and Lesbian Women Against Violence, in a 1991 interview with the Blade. “What people will see and remember now is that police used excessive force on a group of peaceful crowd because of their homophobia.” 

Other protests advocated for equal representation. D.C.’s 1948 sodomy law was first repealed by the City Council in 1981 – but Congress overturned the repeal. Still, gay activists urged the D.C. Council to consider action. 

“Here in the district, we have been thwarted by a bunch of nutty fundamentalists from other places, and so the whole population of Washington remain habitual, recidivist, repetitive, villains, held hostage by a small group of noisy fascists,” Frank Kameny said at a 1992 rally. A successful repeal of the law passed subsequently in 1993, and this time, Congress did not interfere.

Our WorldPride 2025 exhibit, “Pickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington,” centers the voices of the event organizers and includes the critics of Pride and the intersection of Pride and other movements for equal rights and liberation. But we need your help to do that: we are looking for images and input, so take a look around your attic and get involved.


Vincent Slatt volunteers as director of archiving at the Rainbow History Project. Walker Dalton is a member of RHP. See rainbowhistory.org to get involved. 

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Center Arts Gallery celebrates 10 years with reception, auction

Oct. 17 fundraiser to feature jazz combo, artwork created on site

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(Photo by Gilmanshin/Bigstock)

Ten years ago, I had a vision: to create a dedicated space within The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center for local LGBTQ+ artists to share their creativity in a community space conceived specifically for them. That vision became the Center Arts Gallery. Over the past decade, the Center Arts Gallery has grown into a true home for our LGBTQ+ siblings, a place illuminating our joy, resistance, and resilience through the power of art.

Art is so much more than decoration. It can be a powerful protest, a keeper of memories, a testament to survival, and a vivid reminder that our lived experiences deserve to be seen, heard, and deeply valued. When we created the Center Arts Gallery, our goal was to remove barriers so that queer artists could feel welcomed, supported, and completely free to express themselves. Now, as we mark the incredible 10th anniversary of Center Arts, love truly comes full circle as many of those same amazing artists and creatives are giving back by donating their artwork for a special benefit auction.

On Saturday, Oct. 17, 2026, The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center will host our annual Fall Reception and Art Auction, celebrating 10 years of Center Arts Gallery at 1827 Wiltberger St., N.W., with an ambitious fundraising target of $25,000. 

Appropriately themed “The Art of Belonging,” this milestone celebration will bring our community together with intention, uniting multiple forms of local queer creativity under one roof. The evening promises to be an unforgettable experience. 

We are thrilled to have the celebration hosted by award-winning spoken word artist, poet, and educator Charity Blackwell. Attendees will enjoy smooth jazz selections performed by 2nd Independence — a jazz combo from the DC Different Drummers — alongside delicious heavy hors d’oeuvres provided by Shaw Tavern and exquisite dessert offerings by celebrity chef Patrick Vanas.

Throughout the night artwork will be created live on site, joining the online pieces generously donated by local artists.

Most importantly, every dollar raised during the reception and auction goes directly toward sustaining The DC Center’s life-affirming programs and supportive services. From food assistance providing nourishing meals, the free food pantry, and behavioral health counseling, to trauma-informed case management, resource navigation, HIV/STI testing, and essential hygiene services like showers, laundry, and a clothing boutique, our doors remain open because

of community support. These funds also support our cyber lounge, mail and locker services, harm reduction supplies, and critical wellness programs.

To ensure that everyone in our community can fully participate, ASL interpretation will be provided during the event program. We offer flexible ways to join us: General Admission is free (currently at capacity), with custom signature cocktails, wine, and beer available for purchase.

For those looking for an elevated evening, our $75 VIP Experience includes early admission at 6 p.m., early online auction access, complimentary Champagne (6-7 p.m.), an intimate opportunity to mingle with participating artists, a special swag bag, plus an open beer and wine bar throughout the entire evening.

For 10 years, Center Arts Gallery has shown us that belonging is an art form we create together. As we look back on a decade of community and look forward to the future, I invite you to join us, support local queer artists, and invest in the essential programs that keep our community thriving. Let’s come together to ensure that The DC Center can continue to educate, empower, uplift, and connect us all for generations to come.


Kimberley Bush is executive director of The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center.

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Washington Blade responds to concerns over White House pool duties

Inaccurate media reports create confusion but we stand with our colleagues

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A photo from inside the White House on Monday. (Washington Blade photo by Joe Reberkenny)

Last week, President Trump announced his unconstitutional ban of CNN, MSNow, and Politico from the White House. Coincidentally, on Monday, it was the Washington Blade’s turn to serve as the print pool reporter on duty covering the president’s actions that day. This important responsibility is shared and rotated among the print members with each serving roughly once per month. The Blade is the only LGBTQ outlet with a seat in the briefing room, a slot in the pool rotation, and membership in the White House Correspondents’ Association, something we fought for decades to secure after enduring years of discrimination, ridicule, and resistance to openly queer journalists working inside the White House. We take our responsibilities there seriously. 

There are two pools that cover the president: broadcast and print. The other four members of the broadcast pool — ABC, CBS, NBC, and Fox News — agreed to boycott their pool duties. There has been no boycott among the print pool, which is a separate entity. I called the president of the White House Correspondents’ Association on Monday to confirm that no outlets in the print pool were boycotting. 

A boycott by the Blade would set us back and lead to our expulsion from the pool and briefing room and our replacement by a right-wing outlet sympathetic to President Trump’s approach to attacking the media. The LGBTQ community is far better served with the Blade in the room than a far-right blogger taking our seat.

Let’s be clear: the Blade stands for diversity, equity, and inclusion and we stand for the First Amendment and freedom of the press. In solidarity with the broadcast pool, we made two important decisions on Monday — the first day anyone had to think about any of this. First, we refused to take or share any videos or still photos of the president, which would have undermined the broadcast boycott. Second, when Politico’s turn comes up for pool duty in mid-October, the Blade will not fill in and cover for them while they are banned. Politico must be readmitted and allowed to do their job. 

After a rough day navigating and reporting on all of this, the Advocate published a reckless and inaccurate story suggesting that the Blade had crossed a picket line. Not true, as there is no print pool boycott. They claimed that I wouldn’t talk to their reporter. Also not true. I called their reporter within 90 minutes of receiving his message and he didn’t take the call or call me back. Their story named me and our White House reporter, immediately exposing us to public criticism and worse. The environment in D.C. is so toxic and even violent these days that subjecting our staff to unfair and false accusations like this invites harassment, doxxing, and worse. To do that without even talking to us is next level irresponsible and the antithesis of journalism.

On Tuesday, I talked to two reporters and an editor at the Advocate but they refused to retract anything in their inaccurate story. If the reporter had returned my call, I could have explained all of this but they are more concerned with clickbait and sensational headlines, a dangerous practice in these troubled times. 

Back to the pool. The Blade was in the briefing room in the Reagan era, when Press Secretary Larry Speakes made jokes about AIDS and the reporters in the room laughed out loud. We endured all of that abuse and worse for decades, always standing in the back of the room and never being called on. The Blade’s journalists persevered. When President George W. Bush was re-elected in 2004, the Blade’s White House credentials were revoked amid an earlier press crackdown. Notably, no one boycotted or stood up for us. When Barack Obama won election in 2008, I received an email from his communications director informing me that effective midnight on Jan. 20, 2009, the Blade’s credentials would be restored. 

So we have had quite a ride navigating administrations and their changing requirements for gaining access but always playing the long game. As Barney Frank used to say, “If you’re not at the table, then you’re probably on the menu.” The Blade is at the table and we do our best to ensure the LGBTQ community’s issues are addressed by both parties. 

Thanks for reading and supporting the Blade’s work. If you have questions about our approach, you can reach me at [email protected].  


Kevin Naff is editor of the Washington Blade. Reach him at [email protected].

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What LGBTQ veterans are building after ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’

DADT repeal took effect on Sept. 20, 2011. Trans servicemember ban reinstated

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The Pentagon (Photo by icholakov/Bigstock)

Fifteen years ago this month, the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” took effect. At the time, the importance of the change was obvious: gay, lesbian, and bisexual Americans would no longer have to hide who they were to wear the uniform. What was harder to see was what would follow: a generation of LGBTQ veterans able to carry their service openly into American civic life.

Earlier this month, Alaska state Rep. Andrew Gray, an Army veteran, stood before the Anchorage Assembly and asked the city to recognize Sept. 20 as LGBTQ Veterans Day.

His former command sergeant major, Mike Grunst, followed him to the microphone. A 35-year veteran who had served in combat, Grunst called troops who had served while hiding who they were “the bravest I have ever served with.”

Then Denise Sudbeck stepped forward. A Vietnam-era Navy veteran, she thanked the country for the privilege of serving and asked that the next generation have the same chance.

The Assembly approved the recognition.

Nothing about the scene required a new vocabulary. A veteran made a request of his community. A commander vouched for those who served beside him. Another veteran asked that younger Americans inherit the opportunity she valued. They entered the civic record simply as veterans.

That identity can do more than win recognition.

When federal policy abruptly ended the careers of transgender servicemembers this year, veterans and servicemembers in California began asking a practical question: What happens when those Americans come home?

Republican Assemblyman Jeff Gonzalez, a Marine combat veteran, began one hearing with questions about transgender military service. He listened as veterans explained how the military handles medical care and deployment case by case.

Then the discussion turned to separation.

“I don’t wanna see any veteran homeless,” Gonzalez said. Before the hearing ended, he was asking: “How can I help? How can I understand? How can I be a good advocate?”

The legislation that followed would provide housing, employment and transition assistance to discharged servicemembers. Republican state Sen. Shannon Grove spoke for it. The Senate passed it 32 to 0.

Americans have plainly not settled their disagreements over transgender people. Nor should military service be a prerequisite for rights that belong to every citizen.

But military service creates relationships that are difficult to reduce to the abstractions of the culture war. Before a legislature, “the transgender issue” can become a veteran who deployed, an officer who led troops, or the person who once stood beside you.

The political question changes because the human relationship has already changed.

The pattern is beginning to appear across the country. Kansas is among the states recognizing LGBTQ Veterans Day for the first time this year. New York and Virginia are pursuing broader state-level programs for LGBTQ veterans.

Sept. 20 is deliberate. On that day in 2011, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” ended.

We usually remember repeal for what LGBTQ Americans gained: the ability to serve openly. Fifteen years later, we can also see what the country gained.

A gay veteran can stand before his local government beside the commander who once led him. A transgender servicemember can sit before a legislator who begins with doubts and ends by asking how he can help. A veteran from an older generation can ask her neighbors to give those who follow her the same chance to serve.

This is citizenship in practice.

The enduring legacy of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” repeal is not only that Americans were finally allowed to serve openly. It is also what they can now build after coming home.

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