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Meet the people giving a voice to LGBTQ truck drivers
‘Like therapy,’ finding solace in each other and the road
Before embarking on his weekly 2,000-mile trip as a truck driver, Derric Schmid sets up his smart TV and preps meals in bulk like ham and potatoes.
To some, long hours on the road away from family and friends sounds grueling. But for Schmid, it’s his way of life.
“I love the freedom,” Schmid said. “I get paid to go see the country. I’ve spent New Year’s Eve in New Orleans, I’ve spent it in St. Louis and this year I spent Christmas out in California exploring.”
Schmid is the vice president and senior diversity officer of LGBTQ+ Truck Driver Network (TDN), a nonprofit he runs with founder Bobby Coffey-Loy. TDN aims to foster inclusivity and safety in the truck driving industry by building a supportive network of allies and queer truckers.
The organization vets companies (Schmid says he calls 50-100 per week) to understand which are committed to creating safe spaces for drivers of all backgrounds. Schmid and Coffey-Loy also host the Big Gay Trucker Podcast, where they interview people who need advice or want to discuss taboo topics.
Coffey-Loy said meeting people from different walks of life, including trans people recovering from surgeries while on the road, inspired him to create TDN.
“It just opened me up to a whole group of people that just needed representation,” Coffey-Loy said. “There are groups out there on [social media] pages, but nobody actually took it as far as a nonprofit organization.”
Coffey-Loy drives with his partner of 17 years, Ricky, for a company called Luna Lines. Together they drive about 6,000 miles a week, taking turns sleeping or keeping one another company. On Monday, they typically start a load in Jacksonville and then drive to New Mexico, Chicago, Baltimore, Tennessee and end up back home in Palm Coast, Fla., by Friday. They even pay for all their gas and food while on the road.
Doing a weekly cross-country road trip in tight quarters with your partner can be trying, and Coffey-Loy will be the first to admit that: “Your partner is someone that knows how to push your buttons faster than anybody else,” he laughed.
But he also said starting truck driving together eight years ago is what made him and his husband closer. Before driving, he said it felt like life and jobs sometimes got in the way of their relationship. Going to trucking school together and being able to support each other on the road over the years has sparked a different kind of connection in their lives.
“We didn’t want to be apart from each other, so that’s what made trucking work for us,” he said.
For both Schmid and Coffey-Loy, truck driving runs in the family. Schmid, who’s been driving trucks for almost 24 years and with TDN for more than two, calls Jonestown, Pa., home –– a borough with a 2023 population of 1,645. He had three uncles and a grandfather who were truck drivers.
Coffey-Loy, born and raised in West Virginia, said his father and grandfather were truck drivers.
Continuing family tradition is respectable enough, but Coffey-Loy’s mission of creating a safe and supportive space for those in the industry was unique; it was difficult for his parents to accept his identity when he first came out.
Coffey-Loy’s parents passed away 11 months apart last year. He said they learned to grow to love him for who he was. When TDN started up, they became “mom and dad to everyone,” and even invited people with no familial structure to move in with them.
At get-togethers, his dad called everyone “sweetie” or “honey” to be respectful since he didn’t know how everyone identified.
“What they’ve taught me is, if they can change their mind and they can accept everybody, anybody can,” Coffey-Loy said. “I will cherish it forever. I miss them every day.”
And the impact of this lesson has been tried and true. TDN attended the Mid-America Trucking Show despite receiving death threats and facing extra security measures –– yet they ran through dozens of handouts before their station even opened. Another year, they handed out condoms to promote safe sex on the road and were met with backlash –– yet they went through a whole box on the first day.
The team behind TDN may be small –– about eight people –– but Schmid said their reach is wide. Thousands of people visit their social media pages from around the world and connect with each other, including a vocal German bus driver and a man from Africa trying to create more queer visibility in his area.
Coffey-Loy said many people contact him directly for support. There was a straight man who called who had trouble balancing his home life and truck driving hours and expressed suicidal thoughts. The man said he saw Coffey-Loy’s number and needed someone to talk to.
Moments like those are why Coffey-Loy emphasizes that the organization is there to support everyone, not solely the LGBTQ community. He recalled a bonfire gathering where people of different backgrounds and identities laughed and talked as friends.
“It’s why you do what you do,” Coffey-Loy said.
Although TDN has given many people a family away from home, it doesn’t make losing time with family and friends any easier. Coffey-Loy missed a family member’s funeral in West Virginia because he was in New Mexico and couldn’t abandon his load.
“He had already been buried before I could get back,” he said.
It’s a different way of life, but it’s not an impossible one. Schmid calls his mom and stepfather every morning and his mom again in the evenings. He gets on group calls with friends and TDN members. On weekends, Schmid sees some friends in person for dinners, and is able to visit with his family.
Truck driving may mean frequently saying goodbye to close people in his life, but it also opens the door to new connections around the country: “I got friends in every state,” Schmid said.
Although he’s constantly traveling, Coffey-Loy always feels at home. It’s those nights driving, with nothing but the roaring hum of the road filling the silence while his husband sleeps behind him, that fulfill him.
“Even though you miss so much of your everyday life, there’s something about trucking that is so freeing,” Coffey-Loy said. “The road can be so loud in your life, and it has a way to really sort out things. It’s like therapy for me.”
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The queer Asian comics building collective joy in D.C.
Spotlighting chaotic ways family, romance, identity take shape in their lives
Kevin Chen’s family tombstone has room for four: him, his parents and his boyfriend. The arrangement might prove to be a little awkward.
“My boyfriend is 100% white, and my parents are 100% disappointed,” Chen confessed.
Jokes about family traditions and the untraditional ways they’re practiced earned a burst of laughs at the bar where Chen was opening for the Pride Comedy Special. The D.C. stand-up event, produced by Comedy Bonfyre last month, spotlighted queer Asian comics who shared the chaotic ways family, romance and identity take shape in their lives.
From candid oral sex takes to top surgery hypotheticals like “Where do the boobs go?”, the night highlighted the loud camaraderie of the queer Asian experience — one that sounds like a cacophony of snorts, cackles and belly laughs. While the comics say they are not quite a community, there’s more than enough shared material to bring them together.
“It was such a magical experience. I loved performing in a queer API lineup. It feels so validating,” Chen said after the show. “I’m wondering, ‘Is this how white men feel all the time?’”
Each performance evoked queer Asian joy through a medium that could use more of its presence.
According to Chen, who is based in D.C., it’s hard to say whether there is a true queer Asian comedy presence in his city. There are only a scattered “handful” of Asian comics, and people of color are underrepresented in queer comic circles, he said.
When Tarunika Anand, a nonbinary lesbian comic, first entered the mainstream D.C. comedy scene, they mostly encountered straight white men, describing the experience as “a culture shock.”
“I feel like sometimes a lot of queer spaces are really white, and then a lot of Asian spaces are really straight,” Anand said. “I don’t feel like I fit into either.”
But feeling marginalized didn’t stop these comics from honing their craft and creating spaces for others like them. Alex Kim, who headlined the special and is based in Brooklyn, runs the queer Asian comedy group Boba Gays, which began on WhatsApp and has since made its way to Lincoln Center.
Every Wednesday, Anand co-produces a free comedy show called Funny Side Up. The queer-led group focuses on inclusivity and showcasing new talent.
“It’s really beautiful to speak about your experience and your existence in a way that’s uplifting,” Anand said.
Family is a major throughline of their comedic repertoires.
Chen, for instance, shared that he identifies with jokes about having Asian immigrant parents and the expectations they pass down.
“You see me, you know this part about me, you know this experience intimately, and I can see the truth that you’re trying to wrap a joke around,” he said. “That hits even harder because that’s my truth too. I think that’s what makes good comedy.”
Anand had the audience at the special howling when they explained that their parents’ be-more-like-them comparisons didn’t end when they came out. Instead, the expectations took on a new form.
“Now, my parents want me to be the best gay,” Anand said. “They’re like, ‘Do you know Ellen DeGeneres?’”
Kim said he’s been trying to unlearn things from his Christian Korean mom. Yet he described a moment when he was getting ready for the club and realized he looked just like his mother getting ready for church.
“I’ve been finding it hard to escape her,” Kim said.
Mutual recognition also radiates through the different ways queer love can take shape. From singlehood to death-do-us-part commitments, the comics cover just about every corner.
Anand is holding out hope for settling down with “a nice, pretty, Indian girl.” They recently went through a breakup and said they felt they dodged a bullet.
“As a person of color, I just don’t think I should be with a Swiftie,” they said.
Chen, touching on what it’s like to be in a queer interracial relationship, said that meeting his white boyfriend’s baby nephew for the first time felt like he was forced to participate in a diversity, equity and inclusion training.
“The dad was like, ‘Please welcome Kevin. Be curious about his culture, his history, his foods,’” Chen joked.
Laughter is not the only reward for the comics.
To Anand, comedy is a space where they can say whatever they want. “It gives me a voice,” they said.
Nik Narain, a North Carolina-based trans and nonbinary South Asian comic who performed at the special, said meeting older trans comedians and taking the stage helped him feel reassured in his identity during his transition.
“Stand-up was a really cool way to process that onstage,” he said. “[It] became a way for me to repackage my thoughts.”
Queer Asians are still figuring out their place in the greater D.C. comedy scene. The group is small in numbers and many are still working toward a full-time comedy career. But Narain feels he’s already made it.
Narain is reluctant to pin it all on one moment. He feels that success is already peeking through in milestones — opening for celebrities, traveling to performances and self-producing shows.
“As long as I can keep doing this, I’m super happy,” he said.
This story was produced as part of the AAJA VOICES fellowship program, a student journalism project of the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA).
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Mr. Henry’s celebrates 60 years of proud inclusivity
Capitol Hill staple remains ‘a caring community’
America’s 250th isn’t the only milestone birthday D.C. is celebrating this year.
Beloved D.C. restaurant Mr. Henry’s, that Capitol Hill staple, celebrates its Diamond Jubilee all year long. Named for its original owner Henry Yaffe, the restaurant opened on a warm day 60 years ago in the summer of 1966 and has never looked back.
Yaffe took over what was then a country western restaurant, renovated the interior to his liking, and created an institution. Yet Yaffe had another goal. As a gay man, “he created Mr. Henry’s to be a place where everyone felt welcome — not easy in 1966 — and he succeeded,” says current owner Mary Quillian.

“Mr. Henry’s has long been a place the LGBTQ community has supported because they felt and still feel welcomed,” says Quillian. Even in the current administration, “the gay community and the diversity-minded community continue to come.”
Since then, Mr. Henry’s has changed hands, opened and closed its second floor, welcomed famed musical acts, and played host to politicians, date nights, breakups, and birthdays. But it still feels like home (and has a note in the National Trust for Historic Preservation) at 601 Pennsylvania Ave., S.E.
Its wood-paneled, Victorian-inspired art-filled décor in the downstairs dining room and bar serves American pub fare for lunch and dinner daily, with brunch on weekends (and a dog-friendly patio). Upstairs, Mr. Henry’s hosts live jazz performances and special events most nights, continuing a musical tradition that has defined the venue for decades. That upstairs bar has played host to names like Roberta Flack and Woody Allen.
Musician Kevin Cordt said that, “Mr. Henry’s has been a part of my life for more than 30 years. I started as a customer, then became a bartender and server, and now I have the good fortune to play trumpet at one of the best live music venues in Washington, D.C.”
Aaron Myers, executive director of the D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities, is also a supporter. “Not many cities can sport venues that have consistently served the community in the space of culture for more than 50 years, let alone can brag as the birthplace of culture defining talent.”
From the start, Yaffe promoted a rare yet celebrated combination of locals’ bar and soulful nightlife venue. Mr. Henry’s has attracted a diverse crowd at a time when such spaces were – and perhaps still are – uncommon, a diversity that is credited with helping protect the pub during the 1968 D.C. riots.
Longtime customer Evelyn Branic said, “Mr. Henry’s has been my ‘Cheers’ hangout since my wife and I moved to the Hill in 1987. I’ve experienced many iconic moments meeting politicians, reporters, civic activists, and neighbors engaging in spirited conversations. Whether political, LGBTQ, historians, neighbors, or out-of-towners, everyone could find a special place to be greeted as a friend.”
Its welcoming tables come dabbed with a bit of tea: In 1971, in a moment that has since become part of Capitol Hill lore, Yaffe lost the pub in a poker game to Larry Quillian. The Quillian family, recognizing the special role Mr. Henry’s played in the neighborhood, took over ownership, and committed to preserving its spirit. Today, Larry’s daughter Mary owns the bar, having given it a bit of a facelift for the bar’s 50th birthday, bringing in new tables and some fresh menu items.
For example, the menu has some of those dishes that regulars would riot if they disappeared. The Reuben and the hamburgers, the chili and in-house roasted turkey have never departed the menu. Dishes do evolve, says Quillen: they added wings about two decades ago.
In 2026, the restaurant is hosting monthly ticketed “decades” parties, celebrating each of the 10-year periods the restaurant’s been open, plus there were specials in June for Pride. The official 60th anniversary gala takes place Aug. 29, featuring performers, beverages, timeless favorite foods, swag – and the unveiling of a new cocktail.
Inclusive, eccentric, eclectic, Mr. Henry’s is looking forward to maintaining its centrality to diverse crowds in Capitol Hill. Battling inflation, rising menu prices, changing tastes, and thin margins, Quillian says that Mr. Henry’s has — and will always be — “a caring community for so many different folks. And THAT is why I am committed to keeping us going. Society needs places like Mr. Henry’s, now more than ever.”
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Television loses a legend, longtime ‘Will & Grace’ director James Burrows
Iconic hitmaker leaves behind a legacy of telling LGBTQ stories
You don’t have to be a pretentious film major to name 10 movie directors. But naming television directors is not that simple. They’re the unsung heroes of your favorite shows, and the late James Burrows was the television director. He passed on June 19, but his DNA runs through television history.
He directed over 1200 episodes of television and over 50 pilots. He co-created “Cheers” and directed many episodes of long-running series like “Friends,” “Taxi,” “Frasier,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and “Two and a Half Men.” You also may remember him from playing a heightened version of himself on the Lisa Kudrow comedy “The Comeback.”
He has left an indelible mark on the LGBTQ community. As recently as last year, he directed the series run of “Mid-Century Modern” starring Nathan Lane, Matt Bomer, and Linda Lavin. He was also a longtime director of “Will & Grace” and directed every episode of the series revival. He even directed the unaired “Absolutely Fabulous” pilot with Kathryn Hahn, Kristen Johnston, and Zosia Mamet.
Not to mention he’s worked with queer icons throughout history, including Betty White and Stockard Channing on their single-season series, and Jennifer Coolidge in “2 Broke Girls.”
He started his career on shows like “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “Rhoda,” “Laverne & Shirley,” and the first four seasons of “Taxi.”
He continued to work steadily and directed successful pilots that went to series for “Roc,” “3rd Rock From the Sun,” “Dharma & Greg,” and “Wings.” He directed multiple episodes of “Friends,” “Caroline in the City,” and “Frasier.”
This magic continued into the 2000s with him directing the pilots for “Two and a Half Men,” “The Big Bang Theory,” and multiple episodes of “Mike & Molly,” and the entire return series of “Will & Grace.”
What was the secret to his success? He’d enact the “fun clause” in his contract. In his words, “Life is too short to deal with obnoxious leads,” he shared. “So as long as the writing is good and the cast is fun, I’m going to enjoy the experience.”
He had the magic touch, having multiple pilots turned into long-running series. He was nominated for an Emmy 24 times in 26 years and worked consistently until a year before his death.
The secret was the way he brought the cast together. He describes, “it was my job to mold them into an ensemble, and they did round into a group of people who loved each other.”
This earned him 11 Emmy Awards and five Directors Guild of America Awards, including being awarded the inaugural DGA’s Lifetime Achievement Award for Television Direction.
In a 2003 interview by the Television Academy, he was asked how he wants to be remembered, and he said, “That every night forever you can tune in somewhere, and there’ll be a show I did.”
He’s survived by his wife, Debbie, four daughters, seven grandchildren, and the countless people whose careers he launched and the countless viewers he inspired with his television legacy.
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