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On National Coming Out Day: No more silent compromises

Rejecting half-truths, embracing the whole me, and redefining my worth

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(Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

Though I’ve never lived “in the closet” over the years, I realized I hadn’t fully stepped out of it in every aspect of life. While I embraced being out, certain moments hindered my personal and professional growth.

Have you ever let someone assume something about your life, like having a wife or girlfriend, because it was easier than correcting them? Perhaps you thought, “I’m not in the closet, so it doesn’t matter.” But looking back, did it matter?

This question lingered in my mind for far too long. We must ask whether our actions reflect who we are or if we’re choosing a more convenient version of ourselves. When someone asked, “Is your girlfriend coming to happy hour?” I wasn’t offended, but I wasn’t being entirely authentic, either.

As a gay man, I found it flattering when people assumed I was straight. Was I accepting it as validation of my masculinity? Perhaps. But over time, I realized that allowing these assumptions to persist wasn’t as harmless as I initially believed.

I’ve been fortunate never to experience the closet. The unwavering support from my family, friends, and colleagues has empowered me to live authentically. 

Having a family was, and still is, my guiding light. But by my late 20s, that vision began to fade. By my mid 30s, I saw family life, as a gay man, was a possibility, but I buried myself in building a company. I convinced myself that balancing family and business was unattainable since finding someone with shared values seemed impossible. But was it? 

As an entrepreneur, I’ve experienced the highs and lows of building something from scratch, always embracing challenges. It’s easy when you love what you do. Like building a business, personal growth is shaped by what you choose to invest in and what you attract into your life. Despite my successes, something still felt misaligned. What was I doing wrong? 

I remember moments like vendors taking us to after-hours bars or strip clubs. I recall one instance at a national expo when a vendor took us to a female strip club. I’ve never enjoyed strip clubs, gay or straight; I’d instead host a dinner party. Early into the night, someone arranged a lap dance for me, and I jokingly asked if she could switch places with the security guy. We both laughed, but here’s the issue: I never told them why I got up and left, only her. At that moment, did I sell myself short? Would it affect our partnership? I wasn’t in the closet but wasn’t entirely out either.

Another moment came in my 30s when I was learning how to navigate dating. A friend suggested I downplay my career to avoid intimidating potential partners. I agreed initially but eventually asked myself: Why should I downplay my accomplishments to make others comfortable? By minimizing my worth, I wasn’t just being inauthentic; I was undervaluing myself and the hard work I put into it. What was I trying to attract into my life?

As my journey continued, I became increasingly aware of what I was inviting into my life. My personal and professional lives were out of alignment. When I opened an office in India, I came out to the local director before signing business documents. Why? Friends and colleagues struggle because their business partners don’t know their authentic selves, and I refused to let this happen. More importantly, I owed being genuine to myself.

Many of us create barriers between our personal and professional lives. While change can be difficult, I needed to align them. We believe we’re not lying because we’re “not in the closet.” But by not fully expressing our authentic selves, we hold ourselves back. For me, dismantling those barriers allowed me to transform what I was attracting into my life, personally and professionally.

Had I not become self-aware, I’d still be stuck in a cycle of inauthenticity, missing out on my full potential. Without changing my mindset, I would have continued letting others’ assumptions define me and limit my growth. I only began breaking free from that cycle by fully embracing my true self.

Even though I’ve never lived in the closet, I still fear what being this open might bring. But that’s precisely why I need to do it. My personal and professional allies have shown unwavering support, standing by me through everything. To those who have supported me on this journey, thank you, it’s now my turn to support others.

Authenticity isn’t just a choice; it’s essential for a fulfilled life. You must ask, you must act, and yes, you will fail and learn along the way, but that’s OK. Every time you act, you move closer to your authentic self. Embrace vulnerability and the discomfort of feeling exposed, it’s then you will begin to reclaim your strength.

To the person on the partner track who’s afraid to bring their partner to a company retreat: bring them! To the young adult worried about being kicked out of the house: seek local support; someone will help you! To the person fearful of losing their job because of who they are: quit! To the person who wants a family, look around; someone shares those values! If someone offers to set you up with a girl or guy, ask if they have a brother or sister, and you might get a date! To those still searching for the right partner, ditch the apps and be present! 

I kept my personal life “private” for years because I thought, “I’m not in the closet.” I’m not referring to social media; this is about deep-rooted beliefs that live rent-free in our minds, filtering our responses and decisions. While writing this piece, I mistakenly typed, “I’m not out,” perhaps it wasn’t a mistake; it was a sign. I am grateful those filters expired long ago and are now evicted for living rent-free.

We live in a world where mental health is still stigmatized. Small acts of inauthenticity can cause anxiety that spills into our professional lives. It makes us seem “off” and can lead to missed opportunities. Worst of all, you may feel trapped and remain silent.

It’s time to stop allowing these things to hold us back. We must discuss mental health, authenticity, and their impact on our lives. The journey isn’t about becoming someone new; it’s about shedding what doesn’t define you so you can fully embrace who you’ve always been.

As I continue my journey, I will do so boldly, out loud, and unapologetically. Note to readers: If you’re struggling, want to discuss this topic further, or just need a virtual coffee chat, feel free to reach out via Instagram, @gregorybarretta


Gregory Barretta is a serial entrepreneur overseeing several companies, committed to mentoring, leading, and empowering others to grow.

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Commentary

I am a proud Jewish, gay man

My heart breaks for the two Israeli diplomats killed on the streets of D.C.

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Bet Mishpachah members march at the Second National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights, Oct. 11, 1987. (Photo courtesy of Lillian and Albert Small Capital Jewish Museum Collection. Gift of Bet Mishpachah with thanks to Joel Wind and Al Munzer)

Antisemitism, racism, and Islamophobia, are terrible things to have to deal with, and we must all always speak out and reject them. But the reality is, as a proud, Jewish, gay man, living in Washington, D.C. today, I am more afraid of Donald ‘felon’ Trump, his Nazi sympathizing co-president Elon Musk, his own Joseph Goebbels, Stephen Miller; and his Cabinet flunkies like Homeland Security’s Kristi Noem and State Department’s Marco Rubio, than I am of any legal college demonstration. Mind you, I say legal.

We live in a world where Trump has made all kinds of outrageous behavior acceptable. He has dined with white nationalists, said there are fine people on both sides in his first comments when the Charlottesville riots occurred. Today, Trump sits with terrorists in Qatar, accepting a plane as a bribe, and negotiates with terrorists like Hamas. This is the world Donald Trump has created. That is what I fear the most. It is a world where Donald Trump has made it acceptable for racists, homophobes, sexists, antisemites, and Islamophobes to spout their hate in the public square.

This past year I published my memoir, and wrote about being a first generation American. My parents came here to escape the Nazis — my father from Germany, and my mother from Austria. My father joined the American Army and went back to fight the Germans. His parents were gassed in Auschwitz. I understood from them and their friends, what antisemitism was. But I grew up in a Jewish community in New York City, and as I wrote in my book, never felt any of it myself until I was 13 on a trip through the Midwest and was called a ‘Kike’ and had to ask someone what that meant.

As to being gay, I knew I was, even though I didn’t understand it, when I was 12. I could, and did hide that, until I was 34. I then came out in D.C., which turned out to be an easy place to come out. But it was near the beginning of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, and that made you very careful. You were told not to have your insurance company pay for a blood test, so God forbid, people would think you were gay, or worse if you did test positive. There was rampant discrimination and fear regarding HIV/AIDS at the time. I know I lost at least two jobs because I was gay, yet luckily, neither of those impacted my career in the long run. I became a gay activist, fought for my community, and things got better. I had worked for Rep. Bella Abzug (D-N.Y.), sponsor of the first Equality Act, before I came out, and met many gay people who were very supportive and became lifelong friends.

Today, Donald Trump, literally through his actions, threatens the lives of trans persons. While we are celebrating WorldPride in D.C., which as a city is a very welcoming place for the LGBTQ community, countries around the globe have told their citizens to be on alert if they come here. The United States is on their watch list for unsafe travel because of Trump’s actions.

When Donald Trump was elected the first time, his racism, homophobia, sexism, and Islamophobia immediately came to the fore. It had a negative impact on the culture in our country. It actually changed the culture, and that, and he, have only gotten worse over time. Today, Trump and his MAGA minions, are truly frightening. Again, trans people are afraid and antisemitism and Islamophobia are rampant in our nation.

Trump tries to blame it on some foreign students, but reality is, it is his doing. He and his MAGA cult. They are the ones I fear, not a graduate student at Columbia who supports Palestinians. It is the Netanyahu government in Israel that is making things worse. Yes, Hamas must be defeated as they promote genocide against the Jewish people in Israel. But the Israeli government starving millions of Palestinian people in Gaza, who are not Hamas, is not helping anyone. It simply creates more antisemitism. Trump going back and forth on his support of Netanyahu, and then saying he wants to displace every Palestinian from their home in Gaza to build a resort, creates more antisemitism. Trump is the guilty one, not the Columbia student who speaks out for his Palestinian family.

Where this will end, I do not know. But my heart breaks for the two innocent Israeli diplomats recently killed on the streets of D.C. by a terrorist who basically was given permission to act out by what Trump is doing in the world. What he did was vile, and he should end up in jail for the rest of his life. Everyone needs to speak out every day, and say antisemitism is unacceptable, and must be stopped. I never want to see Germany in 1939 replicated here. But that is what Trump and his MAGA cult are doing. They threaten everyone who they disagree with, and seek vengeance for suspected slights. They are literally trying to destroy our democracy. By what they are doing they give the terrorist who ended the lives of that beautiful young Jewish couple in D.C., implicit permission to act. Because if a president can act like a criminal, why can’t he?

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‘A New Alliance for a New Millenium, 2003-2020’

Revisiting the history of gay Pride in Washington

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A scene from the 2001 Capital Pride Festival. (Washington Blade archive photo by Clint Steib)

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. 

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A conversation about queers and class

As a barback, I see our community’s elitism up close

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(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

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.

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