Opinions
Virginia 2025 GOP ticket gives DEI a bad name
John Reid’s views on trans issues are repugnant

The GOP ticket up for election in Virginia in 2025, is trying to prove DEI is bad. The ticket is Black, gay, and Latino and supports the racist, homophobic, misogynist, found liable for sexual assault, felon, in the White House.
There is all of this hullabaloo created by MAGA Virginia Gov. Glenn Youngkin about John Reid, the gay member of the DEI team, running for lieutenant governor, being on a porn site, or sending out pornographic material. There is no indication this is true, or if it is, that it was in any way illegal. There is most likely no young person today, straight or gay, who hasn’t visited a porn site — and not only young people. It is Reid’s own business. The issue for me is Youngkin and his aides, making this about Reid’s sexual orientation. That is despicable, but I would expect nothing less from this governor.
Clearly, I have no problem with Reid being gay. But it’s sad to see all the homophobic Republicans getting themselves in a twit over this. The reality is there are so many other things for decent people to be bothered about when it comes to John Reid’s candidacy. His stated views on so many areas are disturbing. His clear disdain for the trans community is offensive. His use of the term ‘wokism,’ which he, like so many other Republicans who use it, never explain what the hell it means to them.
Then I am always amazed when a member of a minority, thinks it’s OK to attack another minority. In Reid’s case it is surely a sign of a lack of self-worth. In any event, it is really disgusting. That is only the beginning of the issues I have with Reid. On his website Reid states “He believes we should prioritize first-class learning in education, free from leftist indoctrination.” What does that mean? Does it include banning gay-themed, and African American history books, among others, from school libraries? He says he is “dedicated to safeguarding and gaining knowledge from our heritage, rather than obliterating it. He appreciates the significance of our history and will always advocate for conserving our cultural landmarks and enlightening future generations about the foundation of our nation.”
Does that mean keeping up Confederate statues or using Confederate names for public institutions? Reid says “he is focused on stopping the divisive wokeness and bringing Virginians together on common values for a stronger future.” He claims to be “uniquely positioned to take the fight to the radical progressives head-on as he continues his fight against boys in girls’ sports, and the extreme trans-agenda being forced upon our children.” He calls that “common sense values.” I don’t think most of that would seem like common sense to any decent person.
He says, “You know best how to live your life and will fight to allow adults to make their own decisions without government intervention.” That is except for trans people, a woman who wants to control her own body, and healthcare, and anyone else he disagrees with.
He also says “we all must pay our own bills and personally own and be responsible for the consequences — good and bad, of our decisions.” Does that mean he opposes Medicaid, any government assistance for the poor, government sponsored pre-school, aid for childcare, or even assistance from a church or community group?
Then there is his full-throated support for Jason Miyares running on the ticket for attorney general, and Winsome Earle-Sears, the candidate for governor, both MAGA Republicans like himself, all giving their mutual strong, blind support, to the felon, racist, homophobic, misogynist, found liable for sexual assault, liar, in the White House. They continue to support him as he, and his Nazi sympathizing co-president, fire thousands of Virginians, including veterans, who fought, and were willing to risk their lives, for our country. They all support the felon as he slashes medical research programs for children. The felon who is cutting hot lines for the LGBTQ community to reach out if they have mental health issues. The felon who is cutting HIV/AIDS research, and hundreds of other grants, at NIH, dedicated to improving the health of the LGBTQ community, along with other programs the felon has cut, which will lead to more deaths around the world from polio and malaria. This is the GOP ticket in Virginia in 2025.
For the good of Virginians, and the nation, vote for Abigail Spanberger for governor, and the entire Democratic ticket, up and down the ballot.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
Opinions
Country needs a new form of patriotism
Trump-Vance administration, supporters have left marginalized Americans even more scared

In lieu of the right-wing takeover both in the government and the country as a whole, the current view of patriotism from marginalized communities is often seen as supportive of patriarchal, misogynistic, and anti-LGBTQ ideals. The patriot is often seen as someone who supports the idea that America is only one way and that way is one not so geared towards progress. Right now, there are plans in place for several marginalized people, whether they be queer or racial minorities, to perhaps abandon the country, or at the very least lose respect for it, given the whole passport debacle, because of how strong conservatives came in after the induction of the second Trump administration. The response is warranted. We are being told that who we are and what we stand for are not American.
I‘ve noticed that when people distance themselves from the idea of being American or a patriot, it allows these right-wing ideas to take over and distort the image of what being American means in a way that is unchallenged. It is manipulating the entire image of what it is like to be American, which is being presented as cisgender, straight, and white. Right now, transgender service men and women are having their right to serve this country stripped from them simply because of their gender identity. Their sacrifices are seen as wrong or even weak.
However, I feel like now is a time to bolster a new form of patriotism for those who are still here and cannot afford to leave. As WorldPride makes its way to Washington, D.C., I’ve taken a moment to reflect on what it is like to be both a queer and racial minority born and raised near the nation’s capital. I find that regardless of how much conservatism has emboldened right-wing supporters and clutched the federal government, I am very much proud to see the revolt and the pride that people have for who they are regardless of.
Living in a country founded on freedom and the right to self-actualization, that being proud of oneself, and fighting for the freedom to be oneself is innately American.
The intersectionality of being both queer and African American, paired with the historical knowledge of how both identities have been treated does in fact make it hard to be proud of the American title of ”patriot.” But the country and history of the country are not owned by the conservative body. Right now, they are scrambling and trying to control every facet to re-brand the image of what a patriot looks like to change both the history and future of America.
With that being said and WorldPride merely days away, there now needs to be a call to maybe not reject patriotism, but reshape it into a form of patriotism that reflects the progress that marginalized communities wish to see. Marsha P. Johnson sparked a movement with her revolt at Stonewall, an act just as American as the shot heard around the world. Perseverance, courage and determination during this time is as American as it gets. Queer, trans, and other marginalized people are shining examples of what it means to be Americans. We give our time, money, and lives to make this country thrive.
Though the past has been dark, stealing both land, people and ideologies from those deemed unfit to be seen as American, this is our country as much as it is theirs. The right feared the progress that was being made over the past decade and made their moves to halt it. Now is the time to counter those moves and show them what our patriotism looks like.
Opinions
Has the LGBTQ rights movement embraced disabled queers?
Disability rights activists took their inspiration from queer activists

When I was a teenager, I rarely heard about LGBTQ Pride — and I heard even less about Disability Pride. In the church my father attended, LGBTQ people were spoken of as sinful, and disability in the culture in which I was raised was something to be hidden away in shame. I could never have imagined that one day, I would become an openly autistic transgender activist, working with disability and LGBTQ rights organizations across the world — from Ukraine and Russia to the U.S., the U.K., and Australia.
But I still remember the clenching emptiness I felt when my favorite stand-up comedian joked that gay people were “sick folks with proven hormonal problems.”
“We don’t celebrate illnesses,” he said. “What’s there to be proud of?”
The audience applauded. But to me, it felt cruel. Even though I was afraid to think too deeply about LGBTQ rights at the time, I had seen disabled children bullied and excluded. And I remember wishing there was a way for disabled people to celebrate their survival and their resilience.
Years later, I learned what Pride really meant. That LGBTQ people aren’t simply proud of who they are — they’re proud to still be here, to still be themselves, despite the hatred and violence they’ve faced. And when I learned more about Disability Pride, I realized it was rooted in the exact same principle.
Disability Pride Month is July.
It originated in the United States in 1990 when the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed. The movement borrows directly from LGBTQ Pride — from the very word pride to the idea of a disability pride flag, created in 2019 by Ann Magill, a writer with cerebral palsy. Today, the flag is used not just at Disability Pride events, but also within queer spaces — even on the self-care app Finch, where it’s displayed alongside LGBTQ flags.
Like many movements that began in the U.S., Disability Pride has since gone global. It’s been officially celebrated in the U.K. since 2015, and I first heard about it in Russia during a queer community event.
“Disabled people have their own Stonewall,” a colleague once told me during his presentation. He was referring to the Capitol Crawl, a protest in 1990 when over 1,000 disabled Americans marched from the White House to the Capitol. Upon arriving, about 60 activists, including 8-year-old Jennifer Keelan-Chaffins, left their wheelchairs and mobility aids behind and crawled up the Capitol steps, hand over hand. This powerful act of civil disobedience exposed the brutal inaccessibility disabled people faced daily. By the end of the day, 104 participants were arrested.
That protest helped push the ADA through Congress — and it’s remembered as a landmark moment, much like Stonewall. Disability rights activists around the world have long seen LGBTQ Pride as an inspiration — and the influence is undeniable.
Even within the broader disability rights movement, smaller communities have formed their own pride traditions. Autistic Pride Day is on June 18, and I was the first person to promote it in Russia — again, inspired by American activists. It was local LGBTQ organizations that helped me organize those early Autistic Pride events.
This seemed like a logical collaboration, but, sadly, this support happened less often than it should.
Even though younger LGBTQ activists — especially those from Gen Z — are often extremely supportive toward disabled and neurodivergent people, large LGBTQ organizations still struggle to follow through. As someone who’s worked with both LGBTQ and disability communities across Ukraine, Russia, Israel, Europe, Australia, the U.K., and the U.S., I can say this honestly: I’ve never seen a fully disability-inclusive LGBTQ event or Pride.
LGBTQ Pride culture is overwhelmingly neurotypical and built by non-disabled people for non-disabled people. This is despite the fact that at least 16 percent of LGBTQ people are disabled — the same percentage as the general population. In fact, the real number is likely even higher, due to the intersection between queerness and autism, and because LGBT people experience higher rates of mental health challenges because of the minority stress.
Making Pride more accessible isn’t difficult. It just requires intention:
- Choose routes and venues that are wheelchair accessible
- Allow support animals
- Create a quiet room for sensory regulation
- Avoid epilepsy triggers in lighting and visuals
- Provide clear, easy-read information about the event
- Use image descriptions and communication badges
But above all, listen. Adopt the disability rights movement’s principle of “nothing about us without us.” Include disabled LGBTQ activists in planning, outreach, and leadership for Pride preparation. Not as a checkbox, but as core contributors to the event and the community. We deserve more than just being a token.
Even during the Trump administration, the American LGBTQ movement has powerful influence across the globe. If U.S.-based Pride events commit to accessibility, they can help set a new worldwide standard. And that would be a powerful message — especially now when both LGBTQ and disability rights are under political attack in the U.S. and beyond. Accessible and inclusive Pride parades may be the first step to make. The LGBTQ and disability rights communities need to work together against bigotry and hate — especially because of the Pride history we share — and not let accessibility barriers divide us.
Opinions
WorldPride is here and LGBTQ Jews must be fully welcome
An opportunity to model what queer liberation should look like

As someone who’s spent a career working to ensure LGBTQ+ people are represented in politics, welcomed in public life, and protected under law, I know how powerful visibility can be. I’ve also seen what happens when that visibility is denied — especially to those at the intersection of marginalized identities.
That’s why, as WorldPride arrives in Washington, D.C., I’m filled with both pride and a sense of deep responsibility.
WorldPride isn’t just a parade. It’s a global platform — a moment when the world’s eyes will be on our city. It’s an opportunity to model what queer liberation should look like: bold, inclusive, principled, and expansive.
But I’m also hearing, more and more, from LGBTQ Jews who aren’t sure they’ll be safe to show up.
Since Oct. 7, antisemitism has surged around the globe — including in progressive and queer spaces. We saw it last week when two Israeli embassy workers were killed in a shooting at the Capital Jewish Museum. Across the country, Jewish LGBTQ people are being asked to choose between parts of who they are. I’ve seen groups disinvited from Pride events for displaying a Jewish star. I’ve heard from friends who are now afraid to wear religious symbols in LGBTQ spaces. And I’ve witnessed silence from movement leaders when antisemitism appears — cloaked in politics, but no less dangerous.
As a gay Jewish man, I know how that erasure feels. And I know what it looks like to be told you’re welcome only if you agree to leave part of yourself at the door.
WorldPride in D.C. must not send that message.
This is our city. And this is our chance to lead. We can’t just be proud — we have to be accountable. We have to ensure that Pride is truly a space for all of us, including LGBTQ Jews who carry grief, identity, and history that may not always align neatly with dominant narratives.
That means taking action. It means working with groups like A Wider Bridge to make sure Jewish LGBTQ people are included at every level of planning. It means briefing security teams and marshals to protect—not police—those who show up with Jewish symbols. It means being clear that antisemitism, like all forms of hate, has no place at Pride.
It also means recognizing how deeply intertwined Jewish history is with queer liberation. From Harvey Milk, one of the first openly gay elected officials, to countless Jewish LGBTQ activists who’ve helped shape movements from Stonewall to marriage equality, Jewish LGBTQ individuals have long been integral to our progress. Erasing their Jewishness erases our history and undermines our future.
We must reject purity tests that ask queer Jews to disavow who they are in order to be accepted. Such demands not only isolate LGBTQ Jews but weaken the solidarity that has been foundational to our collective progress.
To the organizers of WorldPride: You have the power to set the tone for the world. Use it to uplift — not exclude. Bring in diverse Jewish voices, especially Mizrahi, Sephardi, trans, and queer Jews of color. Make space for their grief. Honor their joy. Ensure their safety. And publicly affirm their presence, making clear that visibility at Pride includes the visibility of Jewish symbols, experiences, and identities.
To my fellow LGBTQ leaders: We’ve long said our movement must be inclusive. That must include Jews. Period. Inclusivity isn’t conditional. It means standing unequivocally against antisemitism, even — and especially — when it’s difficult or uncomfortable.
And to LGBTQ Jews: Don’t sit this one out. I understand the hesitation, the exhaustion, and the fear. But this moment calls for courage, too. You belong in every rainbow-colored corner of this movement. Wear your stars. Carry your flags. Share your stories and reclaim your visibility. Show up as your whole self.
WorldPride is here. Let’s make it a beacon — not just of celebration, but of courage, complexity, and true community. Let’s show the world a Pride that doesn’t just speak of solidarity but embodies it fully, unequivocally, and joyfully for every LGBTQ person — including Jews.
Marty Rouse is a renowned D.C. LGBTQ activist. He served for decades at the Human Rights Campaign and the Victory Fund.