Opinions
Kamala Harris is not perfect, but far better than Donald Trump
Republican ticket has voiced support for Vladimir Putin
As a Ukrainian child, I’ve been obsessed with American politics.
I was 13 when I was following my first American presidential election, avidly reading Russian Newsweek and watching the discussion about the debates between Barack Obama and John McCain on Savik Shuster’s political talk show on Ukrainian television.
Obama and Zbigniew Brzezinski, former Jimmy Carter’s national security advisor, were the only Democrat politicians I liked in my “Republican” teenage years. And while I respected Brzezinski for his anti-Soviet views, my sympathy toward Barack Obama was personal.
At 13, I didn’t have words to describe myself as an autistic or trans* person, but I had a feeling that there is something deeply unusual about me. I was cruelly bullied among peers for being “weird.” I knew the history of the American Civil Rights Movement much better than any stories about Eastern European activism, and the idea that a Black man could become the president of the United States while millions of Americans still remember segregation gave me some hope about the possibility of social change.
Now with Kamala Harris and Donald Trump on the ballot this year, I have a particular feeling of deja vu.
If Kamala wins, she will definitely become a role model — not just for girls all around the world but also because she is a Black woman — for people from other minorities, including folks who are living on the intersection of discrimination. Moreover, because she is an outstanding supporter for LGBT+ rights, her victory could be crucial for the LGBT+ community globally, because of American cultural and financial influence.
It is not just her role as an inspirational model that is interesting to me in the context of the coming election, but also the way the election and its outcome is affecting the situation in Eastern Europe and beyond.
The role of American culture
It is not particularly unusual that a Ukrainian child like me was deeply into American politics.
My classmates were less politicized than me, but some of my peers in school liked politics, and teachers often commented on the news. As weird as it could sound for an ordinary American citizen, the 2008 U.S. presidential election was no less popular in Donetsk, Ukraine, than the Ukraine’s Orange Revolution of 2004-2005.
That’s right, ordinary Ukranians cared about the American situation no less than their own, maybe even more. American culture is extremely prominent globally — my Ukrainian and Russian peers who weren’t into politics were into American stuff like Kardashian shows and Hollywood blockbusters.
I think the average American should think a little bit more about the level of influence that American culture and political situation has in this world.
When I was an LGBT+ activist in Russia, I didn’t hear much about the Soviets who were put into prisons for being gay, or the Russian Empire’s history of queerness. On queer events we mostly spoke about the Stonewall riots, the HIV epidemic in the U.S., and San Francisco’s LGBT+ community during the Harvey Milk era.
When activists in St. Petersburg and Kyiv were talking about racism, they spoke about Dr. Martin Luther King and the Black Lives Matter movement, not about Russia’s persecutions of Chechens and Crimean Tatars. In “feminist schools,” the new generation of girls learned about intersectionality from Kimberly Krenshow’s speeches about PoC Americans.
Of course, it partly happened because post-Soviet activists lack the ability to think about their own political situation — Soviet people for years didn’t have any opportunity to participate in politics. Soviet dissidents looked to the West for inspiration, and Soviet officials for finding something that they could criticize to better fit in the party.
But this obsession with the U.S. is not limited to Eastern Europe.
In the Middle East, for example, terrorist groups like the so-called Islamic State even based a significant part of their propaganda on Western memes; making Hollywood-style videos, using American mass-culture references, and deliberately hiring Western supporters — “muhajirin” or immigrants — for media work.
American political and social culture is simply creating cultural trends.
This is why Kamala Harris could really change the perspective of a girl from a PoC background, and bring inspiration to marginalized people. Also, in the age when pro-Donald Trump’s QAnons conspiracy went global, a Trump victory would make far-right ideas much more mainstream.
Russian-Ukrainian war: Beyond the queer context
The situation is actually more complex than it may seem from the first glance.
If we are speaking about the Russian-Ukrainian war, we need to understand that right from the beginning of this war, Russia used anti-LGBT+ bigotry to justify its military aggression.
For example, the Russian Patriarch Kirill, the leader of the biggest and most prominent Christian church in Russia, was saying that the war in Ukraine happened because “people in Donbas do not want to have gay Pride.” We need to remember that at the same time Russia brutally bombed civilians in Donbas region, destroying schools and maternity wards.
The situation with schools is particularly “interesting.”
The governor of St. Petersburg’s region, Alexander Beglov, was saying that the Russian soldiers knew what they were fighting for after they saw gender-neutral toilets in Ukrainian schools.
So for the Kremlin, it is much better to kill children than to let them be queers, and Donald Trump’s running mate, JD Vance, is known not just for his outstanding homophobic and transphobic views, but also for his support of Vladimir Putin. Despite all the pompousness of this statement, Trump and his administration de facto support genocide of queer people.
Kamala Harris has had her own problems with Eastern Europe.
For example, in my opinion, her relationship with Russia is too-centered around the Russian opposition, some of whom are Russian-supremacist, and she lacks understanding of intersectionality and colonial history of Eastern Europe and Northern Caucasus. That was obvious during prisoner exchange this past summer when the U.S. and Germany released Russian killer Vadim Krasikov, who was serving a life sentence in a German prison for killing Zelimkhan Khangoshvili, a Chechen refugee who fought against Russian aggression in his homeland. The family of the victim wasn’t informed and Zelimkhan’s wife didn’t have an opportunity to react to the situation or participate in negotiations. German authorities and the Biden administration during the exchange didn’t ask Russia to release any Chechen political prisoners from Russian prisons.
The Khangoshvili case was extremely prominent for the Chechen community and could be compared to the George Floyd murder for Black Americans. So Krasikov’s release made Chechen communities in the U.S. and Europe believe in Kamala’s xenophobic tendencies. It is especially true after the long history of ignoring of Russia kidnapping and torture of Chechen civilians, and the fact that prominent Democrats, including Joe Biden, spoke about Chechnya only or mostly in a context of persecution of LGBT+ people.
When I spoke with Chechen activists about it, some of them started to believe a kind of a “gay lobby” conspiracy because of this situation, while others like to point out that it was under Russian authorities when gay people began to disappear in Chechnya. Before Russia’s occupation of Chechnya in 2000, private sexual lives was just a taboo topic, and any idea of “spying” on someone because the person could be gay, or reading private messages was considered an abomination. Western officials at the same time mostly believed Russian activists who are quite xenophobic, and made it all look like a problem of Chechen culture, not a direct result of Russian politics in Chechnya where people could be kidnapped and tortured literally for anything, from listening to a prohibited music to making a political joke on social media. Chechen Americans became alienated from Republicans because of their Islamophobia and anti-immigrant sentiments, and they are also alienated from Democrats. And the situation has worsened because Russian authorities often kidnap Chechen refugee-activists’ relatives in Chechnya, forcing Chechen in the West, including American Chechens to be quiet, and nobody in American politics is addressing the problem.
This is not just a Chechen issue.
American Democrats for years were collaborating mostly with civil society activists from the Russian opposition, ignoring Crimea Tatars, Ukrainians, Belorussians, Georgians, and other people from post-Soviet states. They, while not deliberately, supported Russian propaganda that said the entire Eastern Bloc is one big “Mother Russia,” so they have a lot to work with.
Even though Democrats had their own issues, Republicans were making the same mistakes, and showing their open bigotry.
The stakes are now higher than before. Donald Trump is not just xenophobic and homophobic but also known for his collaborations with Vladimir Putin’s regime that committed horrendous war crimes in Chechnya, Syria, Libya, Mali, and, finally, Ukraine.
Americans could choose a convicted sex predator who had ties with a genocidal regime in Russia, or they could choose the imperfect, but ready-to-learn first female American president who would make the world more acceptable in the eyes of those who live overseas.
Ayman Eckford is a freelance journalist, and an autistic ADHDer transgender person who understands that they are trans* since they were 3-years-old.
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.
Opinions
Protection should mean protection
Disbelief as court modifies protective order against Pasha
There is a particular kind of disbelief that Black queer women know intimately. It is not always explicit. It shows up in hesitation, in “both sides” framing, and in systems that require us to prove, again and again, that we are worthy of safety.
We see that disbelief happening now with the temporary protection order (TPO) involving an individual, D. Pasha. He is accused of repeatedly harassing staff, board members, and volunteers at the Capital Pride Alliance, which led the organization to ask the court for protection.
The Capital Pride Alliance did not seek this order lightly. They spent over a year documenting his harassment, and several witnesses gave almost two hours of testimony about a pattern of behavior that caused real fear. The organization also spent months working out how to legally protect its staff, volunteers, board, and contractors from this individual.
At first, the Court agreed and issued a stay-away order that included CPA’s office and other locations, setting a clear boundary to protect staff, volunteers, and community members.
But that protection did not last.
After the order was issued, Pasha spoke with a reporter from the Washington Blade and learned that CPA shares office space with the DC LGBTQ Center. It is important to note that he didn’t know this detail before. He then sought an emergency hearing, claiming he needed access to “vital services” from the CPA and DC LGBTQ Center shared offices.
The Court granted it, allowing access with a 24-hour notice to CPA. According to the Court, the modification was based on Mr. Pasha’s claim that denying him entry to the DC Center would prevent him from accessing essential support services provided there. Although CPA objected and highlighted the lack of recent service usage and the availability of alternatives, the Court determined that his stated need for services warranted an exception to the stay-away order.
Let’s be clear about what this means.
There is no record of him accessing services or being at the DC LGBTQ Center in over a year. Numerous organizations across DC provide the same services he cited: food, clothing, computers, Wi-Fi, without placing him in proximity to the people who testified against him.
And yet, the Court modified the order to allow exactly that.
Then it escalated. Following the modification, he sent more than 20 emails and text messages in attempts to gain access to our office space, triggering another emergency hearing. At that second emergency hearing, the court maintained its previous decision, allowing Mr. Pasha continued access to the location.
This is not a technicality. This is a failure of real protection.
The outcome was shaped not just in the courtroom, but in how it was presented afterward.
Recent coverage centered the acceptance of a less restrictive order, while giving the person at the center of this case a platform to define the narrative in his own words. He was described as an LGBTQ activist, quoted at length, and presented with his name, voice, and image, including statements like “I am happy with what we have accomplished so far,” “even if I lose this case, I am glad that I spoke up,” and that “the truth will come out.”
That framing does not exist in a vacuum. It omits important context about the pattern of conduct that led to this case, including the history and the events that followed the Court’s initial order. It also gives weight to claims about access to services that are not reflected in actual usage.
At the same time, the hours of testimony describing a pattern of conduct that caused fear, serious alarm, and emotional distress are reduced to a small part of the story. The individuals who came forward are largely unnamed, unseen, and unheard. The record that was built in court is condensed, while his narrative is expanded.
When one side is given visibility, voice, and narrative, and the other is reduced to summary, that is not balance. It is distortion.
We also need to be honest about who is being asked to bear the consequences of that failure.
Two Black queer women testified. They followed the process. They showed up, told the truth, and trusted the system to do what it is designed to do: protect them.
Instead, the system created a pathway back to proximity, back to fear.
That is not a neutral outcome. It is a choice about whose safety matters most and whose safety can be compromised.
This is not an isolated incident. It reflects a broader pattern in how systems fail Black women, survivors, and LGBTQ+ people, especially at the intersections of those identities.
According to the Human Rights Campaign, data shows that over 60% of bisexual women and more than 40% of lesbian women experience physical violence or stalking.
Violence does not start with homicide. It starts with being dismissed, with being minimized, and with systems that do not act fairly or quickly when harm is reported.
It starts when people question the credibility of Black queer women.
When access is granted to those who cause fear, instead of protection being fully extended to those who experience it.
And it continues when we treat these outcomes as unfortunate, rather than unacceptable.
Capital Pride Alliance believes in access. We invest in it. We help sustain the very services being cited in this case. But access cannot come at the expense of safety, especially when alternatives exist, and risk is known.
The question here is not complicated: what does protection actually mean, and who deserves it?
If a court acknowledges harm but still allows proximity, is that protection?
If Black queer women testify and are still placed within reach of the person they testified against, what message does that send?
We cannot keep calling these systems fair if they keep putting the same people at risk.
Courts need to think about safety in a broader sense, one that reflects real life rather than just following procedures. This means looking at not only direct threats, but also ongoing harassment, intimidation, and the real fear survivors feel when they must share space with someone who has harmed them.
Real changes could include ensuring stay-away orders are enforced even in shared spaces, working with community groups to offer alternative ways to access services, and asking survivors about their safety needs before changing protection orders. Courts should also get training on the experiences of Black queer women and LGBTQ+ survivors, so their voices and realities are at the center of decisions.
Our community needs to work toward real safety and protection. Because visibility without safety is not liberation. Protection that can be so easily undone is not protection at all.
May 28 is LGBTQ+ Domestic Violence Awareness Day.
#SeenAndBelieved is a call to action: recognize the harm, trust survivors, and create systems that truly protect them.
June Crenshaw is COO of the Capital Pride Alliance.
Opinions
Barney Frank, a hero of mine
There’s never been a stronger, smarter LGBTQ advocate in Congress
Barney Frank has always been a hero of mine. We grew up in similar circumstances, he in New Jersey, me in upper Manhattan. Both of us knew at a young age we were gay, though that was not a term used when we were young. It was a time when one definitely couldn’t come ‘out’ if you wanted to go into politics.
I met Barney when a mutual friend brought him to brunch at my home in D.C. I had moved to D.C. in 1978 to work for the Carter administration, directing the follow-up to the White House Conference on Handicapped Individuals. That is the term we used back then. I never went back to New York. Barney had been elected to Congress when we met. Neither one of us was publicly out.
Barney Frank is brilliant, and I was honored to meet him. I always enjoy listening to him speak, whether it was at a congressional hearing, or an event we were both attending. Barney was never one for small talk. When we both ended up living in Dupont, he would see me sitting at a coffee shop when he walked by, and simply nod hello, not stopping to chat. If he ever did stop, I always knew it was to suggest something I should be doing, or writing about. Barney has a sparkling wit, when he wants to share it, and knows more about most topics than anyone else. In 2004, 2006, 2008, and 2010, Washingtonian magazine reported that congressional staffers named him the brainiest member of Congress. CBS News reported in 2008 and 2011 that Leslie Stahl and others, referred to him as the smartest guy in Congress. They were right. I had worked for another brilliant member of Congress, Bella S. Abzug (D-N.Y.), but she was out of Congress by the time Barney got there. It would have been fun seeing them work together. I was working for her when she introduced the first Equality Act in 1974. At the time I was deeply closeted.
I ended up coming out in 1984, which was before Barney did. But then I wasn’t running for office. He came out in 1987 and became an even more passionate supporter of the LGBTQ community than he was before. Because now he could make his speeches, and support, more personal. He spoke eloquently trying to pass the Equality Act which didn’t pass the House until after he retired, and then it died in the Senate. I was, and am, a passionate supporter of the Equality Act, and still believe in my lifetime it will pass Congress, and we will have a president who will sign it into law. Hope springs eternal as they say.
Barney is more than just an LGBTQ advocate. He has worked tirelessly on so many issues, in his effort to make life better for all Americans. He recently said the bill he is proudest of, is the Dodd-Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act. It is a sweeping law enacted to overhaul financial regulation following the 2008 financial crisis. Its primary purpose was to end ‘Too big to fail’ bailouts, and protect consumers from abusive financial practices. It was signed into law by President Obama in 2010.
As it has become public that Barney Frank was entering home hospice, and being cared for by his husband Jim, so many of us are looking back at his amazing career. We are recognizing the giant he is, both during his time in Congress, and during his life before, and after. He is the first member of the LGBTQ community who married while in Congress. He is one of the people in our community who really made a difference, and in doing so made so many of our lives better.
Barney has said he is in the process of writing another book on politics, and I already look forward to reading it. I keep visualizing Barney as our community’s Art Buchwald. Those of you who are old enough may remember Buchwald. He was an American humorist, best known for his columns in the Washington Post. He also went into hospice care. But in his case, after five months there, and giving many interviews, he left hospice and wrote another book. It was titled ‘Too Soon to Say Goodbye’ about his five months in hospice. Barney, I am praying I will get to hear you, and see you, on that next book tour.
But if that shouldn’t be, I want to thank you for a life well lived, and all you have done to make my life, the lives of the rest of us in the LGBTQ community, better. We could have never asked for a stronger, or more passionate, advocate.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
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