Opinions
Kameny’s storybook ending
Vindication after decades of struggle
Frank Kameny (center) at the Library of Congress’ ‘Creating the United States’ exhibit looking at his 1961 Supreme Court brief flanked by historian John Haynes (left) and Charles Francis. (Photo by Charles Francis)
The freight elevator opened with a shudder. It sounded like a death rattle. Gloved attendants pushed the sheet-covered gurney down a long corridor, stopping at the doors to a vault. The doors opened onto a room of drawers and lockers surrounding a platform —like a morgue.
We gathered and held our breath as the attendants rolled back the shroud. Where one might expect a pair of legs were wooden sticks. Nicked and numbered, the sticks were not attached to a corpse but a neat pile of well-aged picket signs, hand-lettered, “First Class Citizenship for Homosexuals.” Frank Kameny stood silent, at near attention. And this man was rarely silent. The pickets, carried in 1965, were delivered at that moment in 2006 from his attic to the nation’s — the vault of the National Museum of American History of the Smithsonian Institution.
The pickets were placed on the platform. The Smithsonian curator laid them alongside the writing table where Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence; the inkwell used by Lincoln when signing the Emancipation Proclamation; and the pin worn by Alice Paul who went to jail picketing the White House for women’s suffrage. “Frank, this is where the pickets fit into American history,” the Smithsonian curator said.
Last week, Washington, D.C.’s gay community lost a warrior-general and a good friend, Franklin E. Kameny. Even more, America lost a man who helped create the United States. Yes, create the United States. For the past six months, Kameny’s 1961 petition to the Supreme Court has been on display at the Library of Congress in its exhibition: “Creating the United States,” chronicling how citizens have steadily expanded American liberty under the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. Like the Smithsonian, the Library of Congress placed Kameny’s papers among the great stories of abolition, women’s suffrage and civil rights. He was the first to consistently anchor the gay and lesbian fight for civil equality — not in angst, alienation or radical ideology, but in the words of Thomas Jefferson and the Constitution, itself.
Kameny’s petition to overturn his firing by the federal government in 1957 for being homosexual, was denied, but it began a revolution in culture and law. After Kameny, no longer would gay and lesbian Americans, in isolation, supinely accept second-class status. “We are throwing down the gauntlet!” he declared.
Kameny’s petition to the Supreme Court became a faintly remembered footnote until rediscovered and re-interpreted for our time. Kameny wrote: “In World War II, petitioner did not hesitate to fight the Germans, with bullets, in order to help preserve his rights and freedoms and liberties, and those of others. In 1960, it is ironically necessary that he fight the Americans, with words, in order to preserve, against a tyrannical government, some of those same rights, freedoms and liberties, for himself and others.”
Today, Paul Smith, the Supreme Court attorney in Washington, D.C., who represented Lawrence, in the case Lawrence v. Texas, 2003 (and won) wrote, “It is astounding to see Kameny, in 1960, making the same arguments that have now caused the invalidation of sodomy laws, the protection of LGBT civil servants from discrimination, and the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”
Kameny yells up the attic ladder: “Hey, I’m coming up now. I’m coming up!” Well into his 80s, he climbed into the attic to join me in a dusty netherworld of political papers. Boxes by the score overflow with single-spaced, multi-page typewritten letters and carbons, newsletters, transcripts, umpteen boxes of Washington Blades, every gay publication from “Drum” to “One” and two black typewriters that looked like anvils. “News Release: Homosexuals to Picket White House,” “Homosexuals to Picket Pentagon,” “Homosexuals to Picket State Department.” In a far corner, lay the pickets, one proclaiming “Homosexuals Ask for the Right to the Pursuit of Happiness.” The man saved everything. He never moved. He never discarded. He never denied gay history. Today, some 70,000 items gleaned from this attic are organized for appreciation and research at The Library of Congress. Go there.
Kameny hated how LGBT history was so often deleted. Tom Brokaw felt the force of Kameny’s ire with the publication of his pop-history, “Boom! Voices of the Sixties” (Random House, 2007). Brokaw somehow neglected to mention the Stonewall riots or any reference whatever to gay and lesbian Americans and the impact they, too, had on the decade. Kameny wrote, “Mr. Brokaw, you have de-gayed the entire decade!”
Speaking for his comrades, Kameny wrote, “Mr. Brokaw, [in your book] you deal with the histories of countless individuals. Where are the gays of that era: Barbara Gittings; Jack Nichols; Harry Hay; Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon; Randolfe Wicker; Harvey Milk; and numerous others?” Kameny continued, “Mr. Brokaw, the whole thing is deeply insulting. You have de-gayed an entire generation. … Gay is Good. You are not. Sincerely, Frank Kameny.”
Unpack Frank’s trademark blast, and you can hear the voice of a leader fiercely committed to those who came before him like Harry Hay, colleagues and friends like Nichols, Martin, Wicker and Gittings; an LGBT community that had suffered so; and his place in history, too.
Everywhere Frank appeared in the last months of his life, he happily reminded people — whether at the Library or his last HRC dinner or as an honoree at the D.C. Center for the LGBT Community — his life did have “a storybook ending.”
“They mulled over my appeal for 52 years! Office of Personnel Management Director John Berry issued a formal apology on behalf of the government. Things have come full circle.”
“Oh, if only John Macy (Berry’s predecessor and Frank’s arch foe so many years ago) were alive to see this,” he cackled.
Charles Francis is founder of the Kameny Papers Project.
Opinions
A reminder that Jan. 6 was ‘textbook terrorism’
Capitol attack started an effort to make civic engagement feel dangerous
Jan. 6 taught us what it costs to defend our families and our communities.
Five years ago, Michael Fanone went to work as a Metropolitan Police Department officer and ended the day fighting for his life while defending the United States Capitol.
After Michael spoke publicly about what he witnessed on Jan. 6, the response was not disagreement or debate. It was intimidation. His mother was swatted in a targeted attack.
We are not immediate family, but we spend holidays together. Our lives overlap. And that was close enough.
Unpaid pizza deliveries were sent to our homes. Strangers showed up demanding payment. Threats followed, by phone and online. The message was unmistakable: Speaking out against Donald Trump would come at a cost, not only for you, but for your family.
As Mayor Muriel Bowser said at the time, Jan. 6 was “textbook terrorism.”
What made this harder was not only the intimidation itself, but the absence of any clear support once the headlines faded. One of us was a Metropolitan Police officer. The other served on the D.C. State Board of Education. If anyone should have known where to turn or had access to guidance or protection, it should have been us. Instead, there were no clear resources to help families deal with harassment, no guidance on what to do when threats followed us home, and no sense that anyone had our backs once the attention moved on. We were left to absorb it quietly and figure it out ourselves.
That experience changed how I understood Jan. 6, not as a single violent day, but as the start of a longer effort to make civic engagement feel dangerous and isolating. You do not have to silence everyone. You only have to make examples of a few.
I know many people in this city recognize that feeling now. The sense that speaking out carries risk. That you cannot afford to lose your job. That scrubbing your social media is safer than risking the consequences. In this context, silence is not necessarily apathy. It is self-preservation.
As a school board member and healthcare navigator, I hear it from families who decide to keep their children at home rather than send them to school. I hear it from families who decide not to re-certify their Medicaid, not because they are ineligible, but because they fear being targeted for using public benefits. These are not abstract concerns. They are everyday decisions shaped by fear of retaliation, fear learned by watching what happens to people who speak out.
More people in our city are now asking the same question my family was forced to confront on Jan. 6: Who will back you when the pressure does not stop, or when it follows you home after work?
This is where the city should step in and say clearly: We will have your back.
Yes, D.C. operates under real constraints. We lack statehood. We cannot deploy the National Guard without federal approval. Congress can overturn our laws.
But even within those limits, choices still matter. Across D.C., neighbors are walking children to school when families fear being targeted by ICE. Passersby are stopping to question why someone is being profiled or detained. These acts do not eliminate risk. They redistribute it, often making the difference between retreat and resistance.
This is not about asking everyone to be louder or braver on their own. It is about whether we are willing, as a city and a community, to make it safer for people to stand up to a bully. That means building real support around those who take risks, so they are not left isolated afterward. It means treating endurance as a shared responsibility, not an individual test.
Our city may not have all the powers it would have as a state, but we still have choices. Right now, residents and city workers who face threats are left to navigate a maze of agencies, hotlines, and informal advice on their own. That gap is a policy choice, and it does not have to remain one. There should be one clear place to go when harassment or threats occur, a single point of contact that helps document what’s happening, connects people to existing resources, and coordinates a response across agencies. Not a new bureaucracy, but a clear front door. The message it would send matters as much as the help itself. You are not on your own, and the city is paying attention beyond the news cycle.
Jan. 6 did not end at the Capitol. It moved into our neighborhoods, our families, and our daily choices. The work now is not to demand a single expression of courage, but to make it safer for all of us to stand up in our own way, together.
Allister Chang is a member of the D.C. State Board Of Education from Ward 2.
Opinions
A dangerous precedent on trans rights in Texas
State compiling list of those who have updated gender on driver’s licenses
Recent reporting from Texas Standard revealed what should alarm every American who values privacy, civil rights, and constitutional restraint: the state of Texas is compiling a list of transgender residents who have attempted to update the gender marker on their driver’s licenses.
Under a policy quietly implemented after August 2024, the Texas Department of Public Safety stopped accepting court orders or amended birth certificates as valid documentation for gender marker changes. Instead, DPS employees were instructed to forward the names and identifying information of applicants seeking such updates to a dedicated internal email channel labeled “Sex Change Court Order.” Those records, which include sensitive personal information, are now being collected internally by the state.
Texas officials have not offered a clear explanation for why this information is being gathered, how long it will be retained, or what it will ultimately be used for. That lack of transparency is deeply troubling on its own. But in the broader context of Texas’s recent legislative trajectory on transgender rights, the implications are far more serious. This is not merely a bureaucratic shift. It is the creation of a targeted registry of transgender people.
The discriminatory nature of this practice is difficult to ignore. Governments are generally prohibited from singling out individuals based on protected characteristics for special monitoring or record-keeping. Since the Supreme Court’s decision in Bostock v. Clayton County, discrimination against transgender people has been understood as a form of sex discrimination under federal law. Compiling a list of people solely because they sought to align their identification documents with their gender identity runs directly counter to that principle.
Even states with restrictive policies around gender marker changes have historically focused on procedural barriers rather than surveillance. Texas has crossed a new threshold by moving from denial to documentation. The state is no longer just refusing recognition; it is actively cataloging those who seek it.
This practice also represents a profound violation of privacy. Driver’s license records contain some of the most sensitive personal data the government holds. Associating that data with a person’s transgender status without consent or statutory justification creates obvious risks, particularly in a political environment where transgender people are already subject to heightened hostility.
The chilling effect is unavoidable. Trans Texans will now have to weigh whether engaging with basic state services could land them on a government list. That fear will discourage people from updating identification, interacting with public agencies, or asserting their legal rights at all. When a government’s actions deter a specific population from participating in civic life, the harm extends well beyond administrative inconvenience.
What makes this development especially dangerous is how neatly it fits into a broader pattern. Texas lawmakers have spent years advancing legislation that narrows the legal definition of sex, restricts access to gender-affirming care, and limits the recognition of transgender people across public institutions. The creation of this list does not stand apart from those efforts; it complements them.
Once such a database exists, it becomes a tool. Data collected today for “administrative review” can be used tomorrow to justify new exclusions, enhanced scrutiny, or punitive enforcement. History shows that registries built around identity rarely remain benign. They become mechanisms of control.
Other states are watching. Texas has increasingly functioned as a testing ground for anti-trans policy, with lawmakers elsewhere ready to replicate measures that survive legal or political backlash. If compiling a list of transgender residents becomes normalized in Texas, it will not remain isolated. Red states searching for new ways to restrict trans lives will take notice.
The constitutional issues raised by this practice are significant. The Equal Protection Clause forbids states from treating similarly situated individuals differently without sufficient justification. Singling out transgender people for special tracking invites heightened scrutiny. There are also serious Fourth Amendment concerns when the government collects and retains sensitive personal information without a clear, lawful purpose.
At stake is not just the safety of transgender Texans, but the integrity of government itself. If states are permitted to quietly assemble lists of disfavored populations, the precedent does not stop with gender identity. It becomes easier to rationalize similar measures against other groups, under different political conditions.
This moment demands scrutiny and resistance. Texas must be compelled to explain why this data is being collected, how it will be protected, and whether it will be shared across agencies. Civil rights organizations and federal authorities should treat this practice as a serious warning sign, not a minor administrative quirk.
The United States has made meaningful progress toward recognizing the rights and dignity of transgender people, but that progress is fragile. It can be reversed not only through sweeping legislation, but through quiet bureaucratic maneuvers that evade public attention.
A list of transgender citizens is not a neutral administrative artifact. It is a signal. It tells a vulnerable population that their government is watching them differently, recording them differently, and preparing to treat them differently. That should concern everyone, regardless of where they live.
If we allow this to stand, Texas will not be the last state to do it.
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
One year gone, another just beginning. The best of all worlds would be no regrets about how you lived your life in 2025, and a positive outlook for 2026. I wish that for all of you, along with good health and happiness.
For me, 2025 was a good year. No new health issues as long as I don’t consider my recent root canal. Friends kidded if that was my worst, life is OK. But then they didn’t sit in the dentist chair for three hours. As you are aware, if reading this in the Blade, I write about politics. The felon in the White House ensures there is always something to write about. Unfortunately, it’s 99% bad. He recently said he will interfere in Europe, and support far-right parties. Not surprising for him, and his fascist leaning administration. Again, as you know, I usually refer to him as ‘The felon,’ my most polite name for him. He has a slew of scary incompetents around him, but truly frightening are the fascists like Russell Vought at OMB who wrote Project 2025, and his personal Goebbels, Stephen Miller. They are proposing policies that are destroying lives. While many don’t impact me, they create a certain amount of guilt in how I live my life. I am a white, privileged, cisgender, older, male and can escape the immediate repercussions of some of the worst things happening in the world today. Nearly all perpetrated, or supported, by the evil SOB in the White House. There, another name for him.
As long as my Social Security keeps coming, and Medicare still pays 80% of my doctor bills, I should be OK. In 2025, I continued to join friends every morning for coffee. In D.C. at Java House; in Rehoboth Beach, it’s The Coffee Mill, owned by my good friends Mel Damascena and Bob Cartwright.
My regular column allows me to vent and comment on the world. My second column is the Blade’s Comings & Goings column. It lets me share the successes of so many in the LGBTQ community. We have a truly amazing community, of which I am so proud to be a part. In 2025, I also began my second book, this one on politics, but don’t hold your breath for a publication date. I am also a theater reviewer for the Georgetown Dish. I get to see as many plays as I like, and share thoughts about them. Mind you, I call myself a reviewer, not a critic. I always try to find something nice to say about every production, even if I don’t recommend others see it. Maybe a good actor, great scenic designer, always something good even in a bad production.
I am fortunate to continue to travel. Now it’s on cruise ships. Great to unpack once, and know where the bathroom is. This past year I went on two cruises, and the Blade was kind enough to publish my blogs. One, a bucket list cruise, something I wanted to do for over 40 years, to the Norwegian Fjords, and the Arctic. Twelve days on Celebrity APEX out of Southampton. It was amazing, and met all my expectations. The second was my recent transatlantic cruise, something I do annually, with a large group of friends from around the country, and world. It was 13 nights from Rome to Ft. Lauderdale. I’ve already booked next October; 16 nights on Celebrity XCEL, Barcelona to Miami. I even have two cruises booked in 2027, one a transatlantic, the other a river cruise on the Douro, in Portugal. Feel free to join me if you like cruising, at least the kind done on the water.
All-in-all, 2025 was a good year. I look forward to the same in 2026. More travel, including a barge trip in June from Lyon to Paris, through the canals of Burgundy. I hope for good health, time with good friends, and more writing. In addition, I promise my friends, and community, I will continue to fight with, and for you, trying to make our lives better. I will demonstrate against the felon and his policies, work hard to elect Democrats, especially my friend Zach Wahls, running for United States Senate in Iowa. I will stand up, and speak out, for my trans friends, and friends who are immigrants, all threatened by the felon.
I ask you to join me and do everything we can to take back our country and look forward to maybe seeing many of you on a cruise, but definitely on the battle lines, here at home. Together, we can work in 2026 and beyond, to ensure everyone can live the life they want, and deserve; in what again must be the land of the free and home of the brave.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
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A look back at the best books of 2025
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The year in photos
