Opinions
The tumultuous relationship between queers and religion
One lesbian’s story offers a glimmer of hope
It was a hot, humid Sunday in the middle of July when my ex suddenly crossed my mind. Of course, it didn’t help that it was his birthday, just like it didn’t help that I was sitting idly outside the bar since our bouncer was running late. It all made the perfect storm for some tortured self-reflection.
Thank God (pun intended) Alexa walked outside in that moment. Alexa was a bartender, and I’m certain all our staff would agree her mere presence brightened the business. Years of bartending rendered her with a keen sense of reading people, so it didn’t take long for her to inquire what was on my mind.
So, I let it all spill out. I explained he was no ordinary ex, for he was the first person I truly fell in love with. I recounted our days on end enjoying each other’s company, and how it always felt so easy, and never like a performance. There was, however, a teeny, tiny problem that later turned into a big problem: He was closeted.
It’s a tale as old as time, I suppose — queer self-rejection in the name of religion. In this case, my ex grew up Evangelical, resulting in an existential crisis that broke both of our hearts. Perhaps the right question, though, is why was I surprised? After all, the queer relationship with God has always been tense for reasons so obvious I don’t need to spell them out here.
Despite being obvious, it seems backwards, doesn’t it? Weren’t anti-gay religious biases so last millennium? Yet if the 2024 election was any indication, the unfortunate answer is no. Today religion still serves as the backdrop for anti-LGTBQ legislation, policy, and rhetoric. In fact, I often see fellow millennials, some of whom I grew up with, profess religious beliefs on social media. Many are parents who fear LGBTQ inclusion being taught in schools so much that they now home school their children to shield them from it.
Because of all this damn religion, I sat there brokenhearted, reminiscing on the love I lost. Alexa, meanwhile, listened intently throughout, and once I finished she told me she could relate. When I asked how, she replied, “I used to be a worship leader.”
To say you could have knocked me over with a feather would be an understatement. How someone goes from that to a proudly out bartender at a gay bar was a story I had to hear.
“I was going through a really low point in life,” she started, “and I turned to God and to Christianity to help me out of it. I had a sense that I needed to give up my lifestyle and ways to follow what I believed at the time that God had for me. This included turning away from my identity as a lesbian.
“I played into a lot of rhetoric that I thought was good and pure at the time but was slowly killing me on the inside. This mostly had to do with my sexuality. I believed for so long that being a lesbian was a sin and I couldn’t be in a loving relationship with a woman and God at the same time. However, as I became more depressed and in turmoil over this, I prayed and fasted for the desire to be lifted, so I began to dig deeper.”
Already I could spot similarities with my ex. While I didn’t grow up religious, coming out was still hard. I couldn’t imagine the thought of mortal sin hanging over me as I tried.
“I was involved in a high control group that made me mistrust myself,” Alexa continued. “They were controlling in a subtle way that ultimately led me to fear. I think that queers learn not to trust their instincts when it comes to how they naturally feel. Specifically, certain groups of Christianity teach that being queer is unnatural and an abomination to God. Though the term abomination is also highly misused, we understand it to mean the worst thing you could do against God, so we learn to go against our nature and to repress our feelings and to fight them as an attack of the enemy (the devil).
“This causes you to lose a sense of autonomy and a sense of self. You no longer can trust yourself to decide what is good, or natural, or right. That mistrust can easily lead you down a road where others take advantage and take that authority over you. This is how we see religious leaders get away with abuse. Though this doesn’t just apply to queer people. This can happen to anyone.”
I had been so angry with my ex when he chose scripture over us. Alexa’s perspective made me realize how unnecessary that was, since he was already angry at himself. My thoughts also swirled to friends who grew up in strict religious households. Amid all the types of queer trauma, religious trauma is a different beast. The tactics used to manipulate young minds are harsh, and even dangerous.
We ought to wonder how far any religion is willing to go to fight homosexuality from within. If sexual abuse was uncovered in one popular sect of Christianity, it’s probably further than we think. These queers are often trapped by an institution so set on keeping them straight, it costs them their truest self. This, in turn, catapults them into a crisis so deep, not all escape.
But Alexa did, so I had to ask how.
“I studied more,” she replied. “I looked at the scriptures dealing with this and discovered that they’d been translated within an agenda and cultural context that didn’t match what I was dealing with. The story of Soddom and Gomorrah, the mistranslation of homosexuality in the New Testament, etc. I began looking at the Bible differently — as less of the exact words that God spoke and as more of man’s interpretation of the world and God. I don’t claim to be a biblical scholar but the more I studied the more I saw that I was placing unnecessary restrictions on myself for the sake of man and not for the sake of my relationship with God.”
This I found most fascinating — that Alexa found her freedom not by hiding her orientation nor by suppressing her spirituality but rather by leaning into both.
It’s easy to presume God and homosexuality are diametrically opposed, but that would be an oversimplification. I mean, look around: there are churches throughout D.C. embracing pro-LGBTQ messages. Instead of scaring queers toward or away from religion, perhaps we ought to give them space to embrace both.
Alexa explained it well: “I wonder sometimes if I like the God of the Bible. There are so many things He proclaims, requires, and stands for that I don’t morally agree with. Though there are many things I have learned from Jesus that I would say kind of correct some of that. The Jesus that fought for the outcasts and helped them. Who advocated for the poor. Who recognized that piety and character are not always synonymous.”
I now see queers closeted by religion differently. No longer can I consider them cowardly, for they experience the worst torture of us all: sinister manipulation breeding deep inner conflict. Not only does my ex not deserve my anger, but he also deserves my empathy.
I asked Alexa’s advice to queers experiencing what she went through.
“Let the pressure go,” she replied. “That’s easier said than done. Especially if your whole existence is tied up in it. However, you really have to ask yourself who you are, what you believe, and what you’re willing to live and die for. In my experience being closeted especially due to religious pressure is a silent killer. The stress your body goes through kills you from the inside and may ultimately lead to risky and deadly decisions. It can not only hurt you but those around you.”
She didn’t need to share details, since when I last checked on my ex, I learned he fell into hard times. As painful as that is, at least I know a happy ending is still possible for him.
A few months after our conversation, Alexa married the love of her life. In fact, she and her wife had their reception in the bar, so I had the privilege of seeing how happy she is. Knowing her journey made it that much sweeter.
And just last week, Alexa gave birth to their son. He’s a lucky kid, for he has two wonderful parents who love him very much.
Alexa’s story is an important one. It details the lengths religious institutions are willing to go to suppress homosexuality. It reveals the internal strife religious queers still experience. Most importantly, though, it’s the story of a young, queer woman who found strength in her queer self through her personal relationship with God. It’s a story I’ll keep close to my heart, especially at this time of year — one that provides that glimmer of hope I need now more than ever.
In other words, her story gives me faith.
Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer and barback.
Commentary
Honoring 50 queer, trans women with inaugural ‘Carrying Change’ awards
Naming the people who carry our movements forward
By JUNE CRENSHAW and HEIDI ELLIS | Dear friends, partners, and community:
We write to you as two proud Black and Brown queer women who have dedicated our lives to building safer, bolder, and more just communities as leaders, organizers, policy advocates, and storytellers.
We are June Crenshaw and Heidi Ellis.
June has spent almost 10 years guiding the Wanda Alston Foundation with deep compassion and unwavering purpose, ensuring LGBTQ+ youth experiencing homelessness have access to stability, safety, and a path forward. Her leadership has expanded housing and support services, strengthened community partnerships, and helped shift how Washington, D.C. understands and responds to the needs of queer and trans young people. In her current role with Capital Pride Alliance, June advances this work at a broader scale by strengthening community infrastructure, refining organizational policies, and expanding inclusive community representation.
Heidi is the founder of HME Consulting & Advocacy, a D.C.–based firm that builds coalitions and advances policy and strategy at the intersection of LGBTQ+ justice and racial equity. Her work spans public service, nonprofit leadership, and strategic consulting to strengthen community-driven solutions.
We’re writing because we believe in intentional recognition — naming the people who carry our movements forward, who make room for those who come next, and who remind us that change is both generational and generative. Too often, these leaders do this work quietly and consistently, without adequate public acknowledgment or what one might call “fanfare,” often in the face of resistance and imposed solitude — whether within their respective spaces or industries.
Today, we are proud to introduce the Torchbearers: “Carrying Change” Awards, an annual celebration honoring 50 unstoppable Queer and Trans Women, and Non-Binary People whose leadership has shaped, and continues to shape, our communities.
This inaugural list will recognize:
- 25 Legends — long-standing leaders whose decades of care, advocacy, and institution-building created the foundations we now stand upon; and
- 25 Illuminators — rising and emerging leaders whose courage, creativity, and innovation are lighting new paths forward.
Why these names matter: Movement memory keeps us honest. Strategy keeps us effective. Recognition keeps us connected. By celebrating both Legends and Illuminators side by side, we are intentionally bridging histories and futures — honoring elders, uplifting survivors, and spotlighting those whose work and brilliance deserve broader support, protection and visibility.
Who will be included: The Torchbearers will represent leaders across a diverse range of sectors, including community organizing, public service, sports, government, entertainment, business, education, legal industry, health, and the arts — reflecting the breadth and depth of queer leadership today. They include organizers providing direct service late into the night; policy experts shaping budgets and laws; artists and culture workers changing hearts and language; healers and mutual-aid leaders; and those doing the quiet, essential work that sustains us all.
Intersectionality is our core commitment: identity in its fullness matters, and honorees must reflect the depth, diversity, and nuance of queer leadership today.
How you can engage: Nominate, amplify, sponsor, and attend. Use your platforms to uplift these leaders, bring your organization’s resources to sustain their work, and help ensure that recognition translates into real support — funding, capacity, visibility, and protection.
We are excited, humbled, and energized to stand alongside the women and non-binary leaders who have carried us, and those who will carry this work forward. If history teaches us anything, it’s that the boldest change happens when we shine light on one another, and then pass the flame.
June Crenshaw serves as deputy director of the Capital Pride Alliance. Heidi Ellis is founder of HME Consulting & Advocacy.
Opinions
In favor of healthcare for trans youth
Denying teenagers puberty blockers is a human rights offense
One of the hottest issues in America right now is that of gender affirming care for trans youth. Even people close to me — as close as parents and siblings and dear friends — voice their disapproval of letting trans or nonbinary adolescents (and those who are younger) receive appropriate healthcare in the form of puberty blockers and other medicines to prevent their original gender from onset, and instead establish a new gender that they feel comfortable in. This is a topic that I believe is highly contested among Democrats themselves, so I have taken extra time, patience, and detail to write this article. Out of all of the op-eds I have penned for the Blade, this is the one I have most prepared for.
Trans youth should be able to access quality gender affirming care. Denying these children and teenagers puberty blockers is a human rights offense.
Many older trans people in the current day report feeling “off” about their gender from a young age. The majority of us, myself included, didn’t have a vocabulary to describe our feelings, so we instead lived teenage years under this strange angst — this strange anxiety about our bodies that we couldn’t put a name to. Maybe a lucky few of us grew up in Manhattan, or some other elite coastal city, and were, for instance, raised by lesbian moms or gay fathers or were put into some scenario in which we had access to vocabulary such as “gender dysphoria,” “cisgender,” and “transgender.” I’ve only known one person who had this vocabulary handed to them, but they were intersex, so questions about their genitalia were asked from a young age. Other than that, the point is this: Many transgender people feel like something was wrong during childhood. And here is the other point to be made: Many youth in the current day feel that something is wrong. The difference now is that modern day youth have access to more puberty blockers, more hormones, and more grown ups who want the best for them, in addition to more evil and cruel grown ups who don’t.
Youth who are genuinely transgender — who will likely live the rest of their life as a new gender — are in so much pain that they often want to kill themselves. These kids, be they seven, eight, 11, or 13 years old, engage in extremely unhealthy thoughts about their bodies and lives. Doctors will see signs of suicidality from the get go: the kid might exhibit parasuicidal behavior, such as scratching their arm with a razor, they might think of jumping off of a building, and they generally will not want to wake up the next day to confront the bullies who will tease them about their hair, clothes, and identity. Opponents of gender affirming care for youth often don’t understand the wrath that gender dysphoria places on its beholder: they don’t understand how depressed, anxious, and overall terrorized these kids feel. They perhaps just think that these kids can live a normal adolescence, maybe cross dress on occasion, and wait to fix their bodies until they are of “sane” and “healthy” mind. But I want to ask parents out there if they really feel as if children and teenagers who are suicidal is healthy: Do you think that a boy who wants to be a girl but can’t is going to bed feeling happy? The answer is no.
It is totally unhealthy for trans youth not to be able to delay their puberty. It is unhealthy for them to have to sit and stew in this wretched, cruel, and twisted universe that scorns their label of a new gender. It is unhealthy for them to turn on CNN and watch as Marjorie Taylor Greene or the president of the United States calls them monsters, or says that they are somehow sick.
Don’t get me wrong — it is appropriate and necessary for these gender nonconforming youth to be screened by doctors. They should be vetted by psychiatrists, psychologists, primary care physicians, endocrinologists, and licensed social workers. A rigorous and intelligent process for evaluating their dysphoria and alleviating their symptoms should be in place. What they are experiencing, after all, is not healthy.
What is healthy is giving these youth access to a new channel of freedom — healthcare that makes their bodies more aligned with their minds and healthcare that will cause them to be less suicidal, and more in touch with their surroundings and school environment. These youth deserve a chance at life–a shot at success. They deserve to learn in schools where their teachers don’t get punished for asking for preferred pronouns. Boys deserve to wear dresses and girls deserve to cut their hair short. The world needs to relax about gender. We are the ones suffering, not you. We are the ones bearing the brunt of cruelty. Let us have healthcare when healthcare is appropriate.
Isaac Amend is a writer based in the D.C. area. He is a transgender man and was featured in National Geographic’s ‘Gender Revolution’ documentary. He serves on the board of the LGBT Democrats of Virginia. Contact him on Instagram at @isaacamend
Opinions
Team Rayceen’s hiatus is officially over
Reflecting on a dark year while looking forward to 2026
In 2026, many will analyze the last 12 years because Mayor Bowser’s administration will conclude at the end of her current third term. My focus on this time frame is that as of 2026, Team Rayceen Productions will have existed for a dozen years. We have been through six primary elections, five pivotal production faux pas, four personnel problems, three presidents, two presidential impeachments, and a pandemic — and we’re still here.
Although our mantra is that we are For the People, TRP (Team Rayceen Productions) is essentially a one-man band. While Rayceen Pendarvis is a renowned emcee and revered community leader, and TRP has talented co-hosts and cherished volunteers, administratively and creatively, from invoices and graphics to selecting guests for interviews or performers for events, I run the show. This can be daunting, as it is for the numerous volunteers and staff members with many community groups and local LGBTQ organizations that take on multiple responsibilities while struggling with limited funding, resources, and institutional support.
After my sense of disappointment (but not shock or surprise) at the results of the 2024 presidential election, I abandoned my dreams and plans for TRP under a Harris administration and activated Plan B: stepping back from my creative duties and letting the annual TRP winter hiatus continue indefinitely. I correctly predicted that events would be cancelled, funding would become unavailable, and that overall, 2025 would be bleak.
Halting work on the Team Rayceen YouTube channel caused me to realize that this one aspect of my responsibilities was essentially an unpaid full-time job, especially during election years, due to our numerous candidate interviews. I was producer, director, editor, and booking agent; I did everything except interview guests on camera. Those five years of creating videos and live streams were exhausting. With that not happening, I had the unfamiliar experience of having free time in 2025. Within 10 months, I read more books than I had in the past 10 years.
Throughout the year, I continued my duties not only as TRP administrator and archivist, I also remained Rayceen’s de facto manager, agent, publicist, and speechwriter. By summer, somewhat reluctantly, I had resumed some of my TRP creative duties when collaborations with Arena Stage were offered. In the autumn, TRP also returned for Art All Night Shaw and organized an LGBTQ town hall.
Moving forward, I have decided to recalibrate my TRP roles. Our hiatus is officially over, and now we are prioritizing collaborations and supporting other organizations. I am calling it the Team Rayceen Agenda for Community Engagement, the acronym being T.R.A.C.E., our outline of priorities for the New Year.
These are our current priorities within the LGBTQ community:
• Increasing and improving communication and collaboration among LGBTQ organizations and groups, including those that are new and smaller
• Honoring LGBTQ elders
• Increasing and strengthening intergenerational bonds among LGBTQ people
• Welcoming and engaging with local LGBTQ community members who are new to their identities, the geographic region, or adulthood
• Creating databases for booking local LGBTQ performers, DJs, and photographers
We hope to partner with an array of organizations for these agenda items:
• Increasing voter registration, education, and participation
• Informing voters about the candidates, as well as proposed legislation and ballot measures, including via community listening sessions and candidate debates, forums, and interviews
• Creating events that are inclusive and foster LGBTQ allyship and finding ways to cultivate allyship, with an emphasis on trans people
• Organizing efforts to unify various demographic groups, including Black and API communities, and creating opportunities to dialogue, socialize, and collaborate
• Creating new local awards that honor and acknowledge elders, young people, performers, content creators, and event organizers
My advocacy for Rayceen Pendarvis will also continue:
• More hosting and emcee bookings
• Acting roles and cameo appearances in films, TV series, web series, commercials, and music videos
• Music recording opportunities as a featured or backing vocalist
(If interested in anything listed above, please email us.)
I have hope that these things are achievable and that if we can bring the right people together, action could happen soon. I think people in the region are ready for change: not only is The National LGBTQ Task Force’s Creating Change Conference in D.C. this year, but the board of Capital Pride Alliance (CPA) has new leadership; capable people have become staff members at CPA, the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs, and elsewhere; and qualified people are running for positions to lead or represent D.C. residents, in races that are open or competitive.
For those reasons, I feel that perhaps D.C., including its LGBTQ community, is not going to be a kakistocracy, plutocracy, oligarchy, and/or gerontocracy. I am less certain about the federal government. We shall see how much beyond 12 years TRP lasts and how much beyond 250 years the USA lasts, if indeed, during this fascist regime, the latter currently exists in any meaningful way.
I’ve been through nearly 12 years of Team Rayceen Productions. This includes organizing numerous special events, such as two Black History Month programs and two town hall discussions. We convened three online At-Large Councilmember Candidate Forums in 2020. We produced Rayceen’s Reading Room for D.C. Public Library for four consecutive years. We produced four variety shows for Artomatic. We have been involved with both Silver Pride and the defunct OutWrite LGBTQ Literary Festival for five years. We have assisted with District of Pride for six years. We produced seven Art All Night programs and partnered with Story District for seven years of the annual Out/Spoken event. We produced the final eight seasons of “The Ask Rayceen Show” (2012-2021) and 10 social mixers (Rayceen, Fix Me Up!). We created multiple live stream series and more than 900 YouTube videos. All without a big financier. C’est la vie.
Most remarkably, I got through all of last year, and I’m still here.
Zar is the mononymous founder of Team Rayceen Productions, community advocate, consultant, songwriter, and lifelong resident of the Capital region.
