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The evolution of visibility: D.C. Pride 1990-1997

Efforts to include trans, bi identities intensify

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A scene from the Gay and Lesbian Pride Festival on June 17, 1990. (Washington Blade archive photo by Doug Hinckle)

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 through July 7. This is the seventh in a series of 10 articles that will share the research themes and invite public participation. In “The Evolution of Visibility” we discuss how by the 1990s victories from Gay Pride grew into more groups calling for more types of events to celebrate more identities under the rainbow.

In 1988, due to a lack of inclusiveness and financial problems, the P Street Festival Committee dissolved itself and Gay and Lesbian Pride of Washington took up the mantle of organizing Pride. Gay women solidified their distinct identity as lesbians and oftentimes “lesbian” began to appear in front of the word gay at events. However, the conservative politics of Reagan’s 1980s and the AIDS pandemic had presented a public perception of the homosexual community as largely white and male despite the way AIDS ravaged Black and Brown communities and the role of lesbian leadership in responding to the crisis. 

A scene from the Pride Parade in 1991. (Washington Blade archive photo by Doug Hinckle)

According to her Rainbow History Project oral history, Carlene Cheatam was aware that “most of the people in the Black gay and lesbian community [were] in the closet” and knowing that a Pride organized by the P Street Festival without her would be overwhelmingly white, she sought to make space for African Americans in the gay community. Several efforts grew out of The Clubhouse, a popular Black-owned after-hours dance club in regards to the need for funds to support care of Black people suffering from AIDS. Those efforts led to the first Black Lesbian and Gay Pride Day on Memorial Day Weekend, 1991. Under Cheatam, and co-founders Welmore Cook, Theodore Kirkland, and Ernest Hopkins, Black Pride made space for African American gays and lesbians, and raised money to help AIDS service organizations.

Despite the turnout of nearly 1,000 people, and that D.C. was a majority Black city, “initial criticisms surfaced [in 1991] that we were being separatists,” one of the organizers told Gay Community News. The 1990s were characterized by an increasing diversity within the gay community, there was an ever growing number of people with a multiplicity of sexual and racial identities, all of whom wanted visibility and celebration. 

ENLACE, the first Latino/a gay and lesbian association was created to make space for and represent the Latin American and Caribbean gay community. In addition to sponsoring social events and the only Spanish-language hotline for gays and lesbians, ENLACE also educated the gay community about AIDS and worked within the Latino communities on issues of homophobia. ENLACE marched not only in the gay Pride parades, but also in the Latino community events. Support for ENLACE grew after the murder of Ana Maria Rosales, who was shot and killed on Jan. 7, 1993, in what many believed was a crime driven by racism and homophobia. 

The Lesbian Avengers organized the world’s first Dyke March on the eve of the April 1993 March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay and Bi Equal Rights and Liberation. About 20,000 women marched against anti-gay bills, and for grassroots organizing, and awareness of women’s issues.

Bi Pride marches in the 1997 Pride Parade. (Washington Blade archive photo by Clint Steib)

Transgender and bisexual people also lobbied to be included in Pride, more than just in name only. Transgender support groups and activist organizations were created in tandem during the 1990s. The Bisexual Centrist Alliance and Jeffrey Pendleton, a gay and transgender man, joined forces to create a separate Pride Festival to protest bi and trans exclusion from the Pride title and literature. The Transsexual Menaces demonstrated at Judiciary Square during the Stonewall 25 anniversary. Robin Margolis and other bi and trans coalition activists, assisted by members of various gay and lesbian organizations, held a Diversity Pride picnic in Rock Creek Park on June 10, 1996. 

Rainbow History Project’s exhibit centers the voices of the event organizers, includes dissenting opinions on Pride, and highlights the intersections with other movements for equal rights and liberation. We need your help to tell our story! If you have any images and input contact us and get involved!


Vincent Slatt is the senior curator for the Rainbow History Project.

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Religion, spirituality, and humanity: finding meaning in a complex world

LGBTQ refugees find hope in faith, common humanity

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A UNHCR-affiliated community center for refugees in Kraków, Poland, on April 5, 2024. LGBTQ refugees around the world often find hope in religion and their shared humanity. (Washington Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

Religion and spirituality continue to shape the lives of billions of people around the world. Whether expressed through organized faith traditions, personal beliefs, cultural practices, or philosophical reflection, they remain powerful influences on how people understand themselves, others, and the world around them.

As a displaced person, I have seen firsthand how religion and spirituality affect people’s lives during times of uncertainty, hardship, and hope. In communities facing displacement, poverty, illness, conflict, and long waits for resettlement opportunities, questions about meaning, purpose, resilience, and belonging are not abstract concepts. They are part of everyday survival.

Religion and spirituality are often discussed together, yet they are not identical. Religion generally involves organized systems of belief, sacred texts, rituals, and communities. Spirituality is often more personal and may involve an individual’s search for meaning, connection, and inner peace without necessarily belonging to a specific faith tradition.

Despite their differences, both seek to answer some of humanity’s oldest questions: Why are we here? How should we live? How do we cope with suffering? What gives life meaning?

A search shared across cultures

Human beings have always searched for answers to the mysteries of existence. Across continents and throughout history, people have developed different ways of understanding life, death, nature, and the universe.

Christians may turn to the Bible. Muslims may seek guidance from the Quran. Jews may draw wisdom from the Torah. Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, Indigenous peoples, and many others have their own spiritual traditions and teachings.

Recently, an Australian reader, Eveline Goy, shared a thoughtful reflection after reading one of my earlier articles. She noted that while some people may speak of “false prophets” based on their religious beliefs, others may find truth and wisdom in entirely different traditions. She also highlighted the rich spiritual heritage of Australia’s First Nations peoples, whose stories of the Rainbow Serpent continue to shape cultural identity and understanding of creation.

Her reflection reminded me that while beliefs vary widely, the desire to understand our place in the universe appears to be deeply human.

Religion, love, and LGBTQ people

For many LGBTQI+ people, religion can be both a source of comfort and a source of pain.

Throughout history, faith communities have offered people hope, belonging, and moral guidance. Yet many LGBTQI+ individuals have also experienced rejection, exclusion, or condemnation from religious institutions because of their sexual orientation or gender identity.

As a queer refugee, I know how deeply these experiences can affect a person’s sense of self-worth and belonging. Many LGBTQI+ refugees I work with were not only rejected by society but also by families and faith communities they once trusted. Some were told they were sinful, broken, or unworthy of love. Others were forced to hide their identities in order to remain accepted.

Yet this is not the whole story.

Across the world, there are also religious leaders, churches, mosques, synagogues, temples, and faith communities that embrace LGBTQI+ people and affirm their dignity. Many believers interpret their faith through the values of compassion, justice, mercy, and love rather than exclusion.

At its heart, love is one of the most universal values found across spiritual traditions. Whether expressed through faith, friendship, family, or community, love has the power to heal wounds, build bridges, and restore dignity.

For many LGBTQI+ people, the challenge is not choosing between faith and identity but finding spaces where both can coexist.

Religion and spirituality in difficult times

We live in a world facing numerous challenges. Wars continue across several regions. Climate change affects communities through droughts, floods, and extreme weather events. Economic uncertainty impacts millions of families. Refugees and displaced people face uncertain futures.

In such circumstances, many people turn to religion or spirituality for comfort and guidance.

Here in Gorom Refugee Settlement Camp, I see this every day. Some gather for prayer. Others find strength in sacred texts. Some find comfort in collective worship, while others seek peace through personal reflection and meditation.

For many, faith provides hope when circumstances seem hopeless.

Yet I have also observed something equally important. Not everyone draws strength from religion. Some find resilience through friendship, mutual support, activism, creativity, and the determination to keep moving forward despite adversity.

This reminds us that while religion and spirituality can be sources of strength, so too can our shared humanity.

The human values that unite us

One of the most remarkable aspects of religion and spirituality is that despite their differences, many traditions promote similar values: Compassion, kindness, forgiveness, generosity, honesty, and respect for others.

These values are not exclusive to any single religion or philosophy. They appear across cultures, faiths, and secular worldviews.

Living in a refugee community has reinforced this lesson. Some of the most generous people I have met are deeply religious. Others are not religious at all. What matters most is not necessarily what people believe, but how they treat one another.

When someone shares food with a hungry neighbor, that is compassion.

When a person comforts a frightened child, that is humanity.

When communities stand together despite differences, that is solidarity.

These actions often speak louder than doctrine.

Building bridges in a diverse world

Religion and spirituality have inspired extraordinary acts of kindness throughout history. Yet they have also contributed to division when people become convinced that only their own beliefs are valid.

In today’s interconnected world, we encounter a greater diversity of perspectives than ever before. This diversity can enrich societies, but it also requires humility, curiosity, and respect.

No individual, community, or tradition possesses all the answers to life’s mysteries.

The challenge is not to eliminate differences but to learn how to coexist peacefully despite them.

For LGBTQI+ people, refugees, people of faith, and those without religious beliefs, dialogue and mutual respect remain essential. We all benefit when societies create space for people to live authentically while respecting the dignity of others.

Religion and spirituality continue to play important roles in human life. They help many people find meaning, resilience, comfort, and community during difficult times.

At the same time, the values that often matter most compassion, dignity, kindness, justice, and love are not confined to any single religion or belief system.

My experiences as a queer refugee have shown me that hope can emerge from many places. Some find it in prayer. Some find it in philosophy. Some find it in activism. Some find it in human connection.

Perhaps what ultimately matters is not which path we follow, but whether that path encourages us to become more compassionate, understanding, and caring human beings.

In an uncertain world marked by division and conflict, our shared humanity may be the strongest foundation upon which we can build a more peaceful, inclusive, and loving future for LGBTQI+ people, for people of faith, and for all humanity.

Aby lives in the Gorom Refugee Settlement Camp in South Sudan.

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IDAHOBiT a reminder we all must stand up against transphobia

Trans rights remain under attack in U.S., around the world

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Máxima Mauricio Rodas, a transgender Latina activist and sex worker, participates in the Gender Liberation March that took place in D.C. on Sept. 14, 2024. The International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia is a reminder that we all must challenge transphobia. (Washington Blade photo by Erkki Forster)

May 17 is the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia. 

In 2026, transphobia is the biggest issue out there: all the stereotypes that were used against the LGBTQ community in general in the past are now used to attack the rights of transgender people and to create a moral panic against them. As a person who understood that they were not a girl — despite being assigned female at birth — since they were four, and who in their 30s had to wait in line for a gender clinic, I am obviously worried about this situation. Trans people continue to be seen less as people and more as part of an “agenda,” and there is a greater risk that the international trend of attacks on trans rights is just a first step in a broader attack on the LGBTQ community, and that soon bi, gay, and lesbian people will lose part of their hard-won rights to have the same protections and opportunities as heterosexual people.

When, in U.S. states such as Kansas, trans people face escalating legal and political restrictions on recognition that affect their everyday lives — for example, requiring their driving licenses to match the gender assigned at birth even after transition — while trans people in the U.S. are banned from military service and federal funding is stopped for gender-affirming care for trans youth, it is obvious to everyone that the problem is real. It is also global.

For example, there have been significant attacks on trans rights in the UK in recent years, especially against trans youth, many of whom have been denied gender-affirming care. The day when I finally found the energy to write this story was the day of the local British elections, when surprisingly many seats in city and town councils were won by the queerphobic populist Reform Party, creating some new Reform-dominated councils. Reform Party leader Nigel Farage has praised U.S. President Donald Trump and expressed admiration for Russian dictator Vladimir Putin — both of whom are known for endangering the lives of their trans citizens and rejecting trans identity as something that should be accepted.

So, who can challenge it? The general public often takes cues from public figures. Celebrities play a significant role in shaping public opinion and framing how different social issues are understood.

We need trans celebrities to speak up against transphobia when “anti-trans” celebrities like JK Rowling oppose our rights. It seemed that when conservatives around the globe stood up together to support each other, the trans community should unite, and trans celebrities should protect their trans siblings, while the broader LGB community should recognize the threat and unite around trans rights.

But not everything is so simple. Surprisingly, at a time of the greatest attack on trans rights in this century, many lesbian, gay, bi and even trans celebrities and influencers openly support transphobic policies and ideologies.

One of the clearest examples is Caitlyn Marie Jenner, a retired Olympic gold medal–winning decathlete and public figure known for her participation in the reality show “Keeping Up with the Kardashians.” She is one of the most famous trans people in the world.

From 2015 to 2016, she starred in the reality television series “I Am Cait”on E!, which focused on her gender transition and on telling a story to inspire the younger generation of trans people. In the first episode, Jenner also visited the mother of Kyler Prescott, a 14-year-old trans child who died by suicide earlier that year, and spoke openly about using her privilege to fight for awareness, equality, and dignity for trans people. The idea of supporting trans youth was one of the core themes of her TV series. 

That was then.

Jenner’s perspective on trans rights became more and more transphobic. For example, in 2021 she opposed trans girls participating in girls’ school sports. In 2023, she launched a PAC campaign attacking trans youth rights. She also expressed support for Donald Trump and said about herself that she would never be a “real woman.”

Another famous example is transmasculine sex educator and activist Buck Angel, a former adult film actor. He was seen as a modern and progressive person in the 2000s and early 2010s, praised for increasing visibility for trans men through sex education, documentaries, public speaking, and media work. But later he started calling himself “transsexual” rather than “transgender,” following a more transphobic and rigid view of trans identity, and openly showed support for Trump and MAGA.

Of course, there are plenty of trans celebrities who continue to fight for trans rights — the most obvious example is Lana and Lilly Wachowski, notable film directors who gave us “The Matrix” films and the “Sense8” TV series. But the Wachowski sisters were known for being politically left-wing and progressive even before their transition. They are part of a progressive movement, not just a “famous trans person” like Jenner was.

So, why is this happening? Why have more mainstream and conservative trans celebrities, as well as some LGBTQ groups, turned away from trans rights? And what do we need to do?

One of the reasons is fear. 

Popular and privileged people — whether they are socialites, actors or leaders of big organizations — are not used to being outcasts, and so they follow dominant trends. For them, the fear of not fitting in, being rejected by the audience and losing their position in society became bigger than their sense of justice. This is probably one of the reasons why some LGBTQ groups, such as the Log Cabin Republicans in the U.S., became more transphobic, or why the LGB Alliance in the UK became more popular.

Another reason is the polarization of society. 

Some LGBTQ activists may hate me for saying this, but it is partly our fault. Mainstream trans communities sometimes make trans identity look like a “trend” or part of an ideology. The media — especially tabloids — are even more to blame for this stereotype than the trans community itself. When uninformed people hear about trans people today, many of them imagine left-wing, maybe even socialist, non-religious young supporters of Palestine who are good at understanding ecological issues and worried about global warming. Of course, many trans people are like that. But many are not. And those who are not often feel excluded and become more prone to public self-hatred.

It created a cycle in which people who did not feel part of the community started searching for an alternative that rejected them for being trans and encouraged them to accept transphobic rhetoric, betraying themselves and their trans siblings. This led to greater polarization and hatred against conservative trans people, pushing them even further away.

The International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia needs to be a day when we stand up against all transphobia, including the kind expressed by trans people, while at the same time supporting all trans people, no matter how uncomfortable their views may be for us.

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Disillusioned about democracy? Think of it as a community garden

May 17 is the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia

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Julia Ehrt (Photo by Ben Buckland for ILGA World)

A short walk from where I live, there is a community garden. People of all ages can participate in designing its areas and learn how to cultivate plants. Together, they build and maintain the space for the benefit of the entire community.

Democracy works the same way. It flourishes when people can bring their energy, knowledge, and presence to the common ground. It works precisely because most of us want to nurture neighborhoods where every life can flourish — no matter where we live, the color of our skin, or the food we enjoy on our tables.

But today, reactionary political movements and governments worldwide are poisoning our gardens with the invasive weeds of their authoritarian policies and exclusionary legislation. According to the CIVICUS Monitor, 73 percent of the world’s population lives in countries where governments repress fundamental civil society freedoms.

By now, we know the playbook. Whenever authoritarians seize our common garden, they drive out those they deem dispensable first. Very often, LGBTI people, racialized persons, and migrants are at the forefront of weathering the storm. 

Only half a century ago, the wins that our movement has obtained seemed unthinkable. But those advances are always on the line, always one election away from the strongman of the hour deciding to unravel them.

On May 17, 1990, the World Health Organization removed homosexuality from the International Classification of Diseases (almost 30 years later, also in May, the removal of “gender identity disorder” followed.) The world celebrates this anniversary every year as the International Day against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia. This was a milestone in the global struggle for the rights of LGBTI people. Back then, 114 countries and territories worldwide still criminalized consensual same-sex sexual acts. Today, still 65 of them maintain those laws.

Progress has been steady. But in 2025, for the first time in years, that number started to grow again. Burkina Faso introduced a criminalizing law for the first time in its history. Trinidad and Tobago reversed recent gains. Senegal further tightened the threat after years of intensifying violence

The obsession of legislators and policymakers with people’s bodies has translated into paroxysmal attacks against trans and intersex folks — from the 771 bills currently under consideration in the United States, to the disgraceful and misguided policy of the International Olympic Committee reintroducing sex testing and banning trans and intersex women athletes from competing in the female category.

And isn’t it ironic, really, that legislators worldwide put so much effort into driving LGBTI people out of public spaces, when at least 61 UN member states still have legal barriers that prevent civil society organizations working on sexual, gender and bodily diversity issues from formally registering and operating?

Political scientists Phillip Ayoub and Kristina Stoeckl, writing in the “Journal of Democracy”, show that illiberal governments deliberately deploy state-sponsored LGBTI-phobia to mobilize constituencies and frame liberal democracy as a cultural threat. These governments weaponise democratic pluralism for endless culture wars. 

The playbook passes from one authoritarian to the next, activist Rémy Bonny showed. What started in Russia in 2013, with a law against the “promotion of non-traditional sexual relationships,” has grown into a pattern that illiberal leaders worldwide use to silence opposition and gain international influence amongst conservatives.

What makes this strategy particularly vicious is how it pits discriminated groups against one another. Time and again, reactionary people in power speak of “protecting women” just to attack trans and intersex people — manufacturing conflict among communities that, in fact, share a common struggle to protect the freedom to decide over their own bodies.

Whenever governments need to distract the public from their failures to create a better garden for everyone, they need a scapegoat. More often than not, it is LGBTI folks. Often, it is those fighting for safe abortions or against racism. Some other times, it is those advocating respectful relations with our land and natural resources. But the attacks never stop at a single movement. Case in point? Only 10 days ago, a government caved in to foreign influence and cancelled the largest global gathering on human rights in the digital age.

At ILGA World, we serve and work with LGBTI communities globally. We know that time and again, LGBTI people have resisted these pests, rolled up their sleeves alongside all the good people caring about their communities, and sown the seeds of change.  

This year, the world will join to celebrate May 17 under the theme “At the heart of democracy.” Because, as disillusioned with the concept as people may be, deep down most of us believe that we all deserve a space where we can feel safe and thrive. And together, we can contribute to the beautiful, shared community garden that we deserve.

Julia Ehrt (she/her) is the Executive Director at ILGA World and a widely respected LGBTI activist and community leader. 

Before joining ILGA World, she was the Executive Director of Transgender Europe, where she contributed significantly to how trans issues are perceived and debated today in Europe and beyond. She served as a founding Steering Committee member of the International Trans Fund (ITF) until 2019 and as a board member of the Association for Women’s Rights in Development (AWID) for six years. She is a member of the board of directors of the Astraea Lesbian Foundation for Justice, and a signatory to the Yogyakarta Principles plus 10

Julia holds a PhD in mathematics and lives with her partner and child in Berlin and Geneva.

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