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Faith of our fathers

40-year-old gay Catholic group defies Vatican yet seeks communion

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crucifix, Christian, gay news, Washington Blade
crucifix, Christian, gay news, Washington Blade

19th Century Cristo Crucificado. (Photo courtesy of Griffin Trading)

All the mainline Christian denominations by now have gay subgroups that have formed and many in the U.S. — Episcopalians, United Methodists and others — can point to huge strides they’ve made over the last several decades in persuading their hierarchies to acknowledge their presence.

Dignity/Washington, the largest chapter of the LGBT Roman Catholic group DignityUSA, has made so little progress making Vatican teaching less gay-condemning, the group, in many ways, has moved on to other goals it considers more realistic and achievable. The lone victories its members can count on that front are being invited indoors for a 1978 rainstorm during a weekend-long prayer vigil they held at the National Conference of Catholic Bishops at its former headquarters on Massachusetts Avenue (it didn’t foster a long-term dialogue) and a wave from current Pope Benedict XVI (Joseph Ratzinger) in the summer of 2010 (accompanying soon-to-be Cardinal Donald Wuerl did not follow suit).

If anything, the Vatican has become more anti-gay over the years. Though several regional parishes had long allowed Dignity groups to meet on their property, in 1986 Ratzinger, writing as the Vatican’s official keeper of church morality, issued a letter stating that gays and lesbians are “intrinsically disordered” and that gay organizations were no longer allowed the use of church property. It’s only gotten worse in recent years — in January, Pope Benedict condemned same-sex marriage efforts and called gay marriage, in an ironic choice of words, a threat “to human dignity and the future of humanity itself … pride of place goes to the family based on the marriage of a man and woman.”

And it wasn’t just talk — the Roman Catholic Church gave $2 million this year to unsuccessful efforts to outlaw same-sex marriage with November’s ballot initiatives in Maine, Maryland, Minnesota and Washington state, according to the Human Rights Campaign. As pro-LGBT efforts of any kind have taken root elsewhere, the Vatican has increasingly dug in its heels. Official church teaching is that although gays should “be accepted with respect, compassion and sensitivity,” “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered” and “sexual activity only exists for the purpose of procreation.”

DignityUSA, however, has persevered. The Washington chapter, formed in the fall of 1972 (three years after the national group) and one of 45 active U.S. chapters, has its 40th anniversary events (“Forty and Fabulous on the First”) this weekend. On Saturday evening, a reception and dinner will be held at Clyde’s Restaurant (707 7th St., N.W.) with gay actor/singer Will Gartshore providing entertainment. On Sunday, Sr. Jeannine Gramick (Sisters of Loretto) will give the homily at a special “anniversary Mass.” The group meets weekly for a 6 p.m. Mass at St. Margaret’s Church, an Episcopal parish at 1820 Connecticut Ave., N.W. Details are at dignitywashington.org.

The sheer numbers are daunting. The Roman Catholic Church is the world’s largest Christian church with more than a billion members worldwide. It claims it is the one true church founded by Jesus Christ, that its bishops are the successors of Christ’s apostles and Pope Benedict is the successor to the biblical figure Peter. Though there was no recognized papacy until later centuries, Rome has named an unbroken line of bishops that dates to Peter and the first century. The Archdiocese of Washington did not respond to a request for comment for this article. Dignity/Washington members say relations with it are prickly at best.

“There’s no sense that the local archdiocese has evolved at all,” says Tom Bower, a gay member for almost the whole time the D.C. group has existed, a board member for eight years and co-chair for the anniversary committee. “They absolutely find us quite beyond the pale.”

DignityUSA, a U.S. group as its name implies (similar but unaffiliated gay Catholic groups exist in other countries), has about 6,000 dues-paying members, according to Executive Director Marianne Duddy-Burke, a lesbian, and an operating budget at the national level of about $550,000 though the chapters have their own budgets.

It’s a big weekend for the organization — the Boston chapter is also celebrating its 40th anniversary. San Diego, Chicago and New York also formed chapters in 1972. Dignity/Washington started with a group of about 20 at its first Mass. It moved from twice-monthly to weekly Mass in 1976. Membership and Mass attendance peaked at about 500 and 350 respectively in the late ‘80s. By late 1990, it had become the largest Dignity chapter in the U.S., a feat it maintains to this day, though membership is now about 200 with an average of 90-100 believers attending weekly Dignity Mass in D.C.

It owns its own building in Eastern Market that houses offices and provides space to other LGBT organizations such as Brother Help Thyself and Imperial Court. As with most Dignity chapters, Dignity/Washington prefers to let other churches host its services rather than build its own sanctuary.

“Most of our chapters are kind of hand to mouth,” Duddy-Burke says. “We pay our rent and our basic expenses, we have the weekly bulletins and we underwrite memberships for low-income people and most of our chapters give back to their own communities in some way. … Our model really isn’t based on the institutional model. We focus on the church as more of a community than a building.”

Despite the daunting odds, the group is celebrating. Bower says the group’s mere survival is a reason to be ecstatic.

“The official church would very much like us to disappear,” he says. “We show that you can be gay and Catholic at the same time and happily so and despite the major efforts of a much bigger organization to throw us out. We’re part of a national organization and when the Pope comes out against something gay, we’re able to say, ‘No, that’s wrong.’”

Bob Miailovich, a member for 35 years — someone left a Dignity brochure on his car while he was in a gay bar — agrees.

“This small group of gay men got together back in the early ‘70s — who would have ever envisioned this thing being as big as it is and the ongoing evolution of this group. I mean we’re a small group of sort of churchy guys, but it’s really opened up and I think we’re more broadly attuned to the world at this time and to what faith is all about.”

Despite the political and spiritual cold shoulder, DignityUSA wants to be recognized by the Holy See, the Roman Catholic Church’s central governing body. It’s a key component to the organization’s mission. While many LGBT Christian groups, Catholic and otherwise, have started their own denominations with no interest whatsoever in swaying the Vatican, Dignity, at its very core, feels that it’s important to stay within the church and fight as much as possible. Though many gay Christians cannot fathom wanting anything to do with the Roman Catholic Church after centuries of anti-gay teaching, Dignity members say it’s essential.

“People think, ‘Oh, why do you keep banging your head against the wall?’” Bower says. “That’s why we call it faith. It’s a belief that there is within the larger view of what it means to be Catholic, there’s something there that you just don’t have with other groups.”

Miailovich says despite the anti-gay teachings, he still “find(s) more truth in the Catholic Church than I do in other religions. It’s not perfect and I don’t buy everything at the end of the day but from what I know of other religions and what they teach and believe, I find more truth on the Catholic side than elsewhere else.”

As one might expect considering its size, millions have left the Catholic Church for all kinds of reasons and to varying degrees. Hard though it may be for LGBT people to fathom, there are even strains of Catholicism that have broken off from Rome because they feel the Vatican has gotten too liberal.

The most notorious is the Mexico City-based New Jerusalem, a gated community of about 3,000 that was founded in 1973 as a reaction to the Second Vatican Council of 1962-1965, a hugely influential change in Church teaching that allowed Masses to be said in languages besides Latin among many other things. Several “Traditionalist Catholic” splinter groups also revolted against Vatican II reform, but New Jerusalem is widely regarded as the most extreme — TV, radios, alcohol, makeup and pants for women are forbidden. Residents attend church three times daily, don’t recognize any post-Vatican II Roman church leaders and think Benedict is the anti-Christ. Fundamentalist splinter groups occur in other religions as well — the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints received massive media attention in recent years when its leader was convicted of two felony counts of child sexual assault.

Other groups have broken away on the opposite side of the theological spectrum. The North American Old Catholic Church considers itself a “2,000-year-old church with Apostolic succession” and teaches the “full inclusion of LGBT persons in our religious life, sacraments and clergy.” It also advocates for “the full inclusion of LGBT persons throughout society.” Two gay-welcoming Old Catholic churches were launched in Washington — one in 2011 and another this year— but appear to be inactive. Neither Presiding Bishop Rev. Michael Seneco, who’s gay, nor Rev. Kerolos Saleib of Saint Damien of Molokai Parish responded to multiple requests for comment or had recently updated websites. The churches that hosted them say they’re no longer meeting there. Salieb held a series of Masses at National City Christian Church during the International AIDS Conference this summer but fled the country soon after under mysterious circumstances. Duddy-Burke says many similar groups have come and gone over the years.

Denomination hopping between Episcopalians and Catholics, perhaps the two most stylistically similar denominations in the U.S., has been going on for all kinds of reasons for decades. Many progressive believers left the Catholic Church to find more gay- and women-friendly theology among Episcopalians, the Anglican Church in the U.S. The Catholic Church in recent years has started welcoming a spate of disenfranchised former Episcopalians who left disappointed that the church had become more gay-friendly. Others Episcopalians still, as has been widely reported, left their U.S. dioceses to align with more conservative Anglicans in other countries.

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Dignity/Washington members in 1991. (Washington Blade file photo by Doug Hinckle)

Bower says for him, converting to the Episcopal faith is not feasible.

“There are some basic theological differences between Catholicism and Episcopalianism,” he says. “Even in something as basic as Communion and the notion of transubstantiation. We really believe there is a change in the body and blood. They see it more as a memorial. And there’s a whole historical precedent of difference between the Roman and English churches.”

Others are pushing as far as they can under Vatican leadership and not just on LGBT issues. A lengthy article in the current edition of Rolling Stone magazine tells the stories of Sister Simone Campbell, Sister Margaret Farley and others who are “refusing to back down from the Catholic Church itself up to and including the Pope. On issues ranging from gay rights to abortion, the nuns are either openly contradicting church dogma or quietly undermining it with their silence, choosing instead to embrace a radical notion of missionary work that wouldn’t be out of place at an Occupy Wall Street rally: income inequality, universal health care, corporate responsibility, immigration reform,” and elsewhere reproductive rights. A group called Roman Catholic Womenpriests includes former nuns, ordains women as priests and holds women-led Masses.

Campbell, who didn’t immediately respond to a Blade interview request, told Rolling Stone, the same anti-LGBT beliefs are equally as harmful to women in the exclusively male-led Vatican.

“You’ve got to realize that any crowd that took 350 years to figure out Galileo might be right is not noted for rapid change,” she told Rolling Stone. “This is about a cultural clash between monarchy, in which the monarch is always right, and democracy where everybody has equal dignity, responsibility and opportunity, women and men. The whole idea that we live in a pluralistic society is news to these guys.”

The combined effect of all this shifting is a diminished Vatican hurt by a range of factors, from those turned off by its increasingly right-leaning teachings to millions lost and incalculable damage incurred by the clergy abuse scandals of recent years. Benedict, at times, has seemed almost cavalier about the loss, advocating for a “smaller, purer” church and saying that a church that seeks “above all to be attractive is already on the wrong path.”

Regardless of one’s political or religious views, the numbers are surprising — a third of those reared Catholic in the U.S. leave the church and, according to a Pew Research Study, 10 percent of all Americans are former Catholics. The losses have been partially offset by the disproportionately high number of immigrants who are Catholic.

Gramick, in a lengthy phone interview this week from her home in Mt. Ranier, Md., says the Roman Catholic “institution is unraveling.” Gramick, who declines to give her sexual orientation, was present at the first meeting to form Dignity/Washington in the cafeteria of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception with five others in 1971. She later formed New Ways Ministry, which she calls “a peace and justice center focused solely on the issue of lesbian and gay rights.”

Of the Church’s continual anti-gay teaching, she says it’s “causing a lot of dissonance and alienation among the Catholic community and a lot of Catholics out there in the pews, they’re no longer in the pews. Mass attendance has decreased dramatically in the last 20-30 years and actually what I think we’re seeing is the beginning of the dissolution of the institutional church. The institution is unraveling but the faith of the people is continuing and growing.”

Is it conceivable to imagine a post-Vatican world in another generation or two?

“If you’re talking erasure, I don’t think I’d go that far, but it’s unraveling certainly … it’s getting increasingly frayed and not only at the edges. It’s really closer to the center and it’s coming apart at the seams.”

Dignity Catholics don’t want that. At the most basic level, they believe the Vatican is simply wrong on the traditional view of Christian teaching and homosexuality, though opinions vary as to the reasons.

“We say basically go back and look at the theological arguments presented and they’re false,” Bower says. “We’re not picking and choosing which teachings to abide by. This is what you get when you look at the gospels. There really are no statements about LGBT people the way we think of it today. The type of homosexuality they were referring to was basically idol worship and temple prostitution.”

Having worked on these issues for decades, Gramick says the Vatican’s gay and lesbian theology is “not really based on the Bible.”

“It’s really more based on philosophy and natural law that uses scriptural quotes as backup,” she says. “It doesn’t really use scripture as the basis for its objection. They say homosexuality is unnatural without any acknowledgement that nature changes. What you see with the Vatican is an unwillingness to acknowledge change. If you have a 13th century mind, you would understand their position but with a 21st century mind and the science we’ve discovered, the human person is not what the Vatican thinks a person is. … Psychology has come so far since then. They didn’t know anything about Freud. When they come out with these views of it being a disorder, this is just not an enlightened view of psychology.”

Gramick’s iconoclastic work has not gone unnoticed — she says in the last 11 years, her religious community has received nine letters from the Vatican advising her superiors to have her dismissed from the Sisters of Loretto. The three presidents in that time have backed her, though the Church does play hardball — last month Rev. Roy Bourgeois was “canonically dismissed” for ordaining a woman at a Unitarian church in Kentucky in 2008.

Duddy-Burke says the decades of Vatican opposition have brought both a change of approach from DignityUSA and unexpected advantages.

“I think we’ve actually moved from trying to get acceptance from the Vatican to really leading the rest of the Church into being a more just Church,” she says. “I think we sort of feel like our job now is to hold our leadership accountable for the damage they’ve done and at the same time model a better way of living out the Gospel.”

She says slowly this approach has “caused people to see that the Church not only belongs to the Bishop and the Vatican. All of us who are baptized Catholics own the Church as well as the rites that are part of it. … If people ever caught on it would be like, ‘Wow, you’re governing it, you’re saying who preaches and presides, you decide if you want to use the new Roman Missel or not.’ Because we’ve been so excluded, we’ve had this opportunity to create the Church that we deserve and it’s an opportunity that a lot of Catholics haven’t had.”

Despite the Vatican’s refusal to bend, there’s growing evidence, both anecdotally and in serious research, that its official teachings are out of step with the majority of its laity — a summer poll conducted by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life found that 58 percent of Catholics favor same-sex marriage with 33 percent opposed. On matters as far-ranging as whether an unexcused absence from weekly Mass warrants a mortal sin to use of contraception, U.S. Catholics and many of their counterparts in other countries have long been a body of believers who haven’t felt they had to adhere to all church doctrine to stay in the church. Many parishes and clergy — even some who perform Dignity Masses — are quietly gay welcoming. They keep it low key to avoid interference from church leaders, but can sometimes be more welcoming than many would realize. So much so, in some cases, that it’s eaten into Dignity’s roster.

That’s partially why Dignity members say they don’t want to leave the church.

“The church really is the people of God,” Miailovich says. “It’s a horizontal assembly, not some vertical thing where you have the Pope at the top and an triangle going down with everyone else. Out there in the pews, there’s a great deal of support for a more progressive agenda, for women’s ordination, for married priests, you have the nuns on the bus for social justice. Everybody in the church does not believe 100 percent of everything that may be promulgated from on high.”

He also says there’s an “attitude that it’s my church and you can’t take it away from me.”

“I can’t leave what is mine and that leaves you with a sense that some day, somehow, change will be made. You’re right, there are people who’ve said, ‘Why spend a lifetime working with these people, let’s go start our own thing and not worry about what’s left behind.’ But I’m not going to change. This is who I am. This is how I pray and how I worship and here I am. We pray for our church leaders because we feel they need enlightenment.”

Bower agrees.

“We’ve found a peace and reconciliation within ourselves,” he says. “It’s more like a ‘We think we’re right and we’re here if you ever want to talk’-kind of thing. There’s less time today spent trying to articulate and debate all these issues because there’s really nobody to talk to on the other side.”

Despite, the ongoing dissent, Gramick says the occasion is a celebration.

“They’ve had a marvelous ministry here for 40 years ministering to local LGBT Catholics,” she says. “It’s really a time to rejoice.”

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Movies

Intense doc offers transcendent treatment of queer fetish pioneer

‘A Body to Live In’ a fascinating trip into a transgressive culture

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The late Fakir Musafar in ‘A Body to Live In.’ (Photo courtesy of Altered Innocence)

Once upon a time in the 1940s, a teenager named Roland Loomis, who lived with his devout Lutheran parents in Aberdeen, S.D., received a hand-me-down camera from his uncle. It was a gift that would change his life.

Small and effeminate, he didn’t exactly fit with the “in” crowd of his small rural town; but he had an inner life more thrilling than anything they had to offer, anyway, and that camera became the key with which it could finally be unlocked. Waiting patiently for those precious hours when he was alone in the house, he used it to capture images of himself that expressed an identity he had only begun to explore, through furtive experiments in body manipulation that incorporated exotic costuming, erotic nudity, gender ambiguity, and what many of us might call (though he would not) self-mutilation, including the piercing of his skin and other extreme forms of physical modification.

Young Roland would go on to become famous (or perhaps, notorious) in the decades to come, but it would be under a different name: Fakir Musafar, the focal figure of filmmaker Angelo Madsen’s documentary “A Body to Live In,” which opened in Los Angeles on Feb. 27 and expands to New York this weekend. 

Like Musafar himself, who died of lung cancer at 87 in 2018, it’s a documentary that doesn’t quite follow the expected rules. Eschewing “talking head” commentators and traditional narration, Madsen spins his movie from his subject’s extensive archives and allows the information to come through the voices of those who were close to him: collaborator and life partner Cléo Dubois, performance artists Ron Athey and Annie Sprinkle, and underground publisher V. Vale are among the many who contribute their memories and impressions of him, while evocative photos and film footage create a hazy “slide show” effect to provide a guided tour of his life, his art, and his legacy. Less a biography than a chronicle of profoundly unorthodox self-discovery, it details his development from those early days of clandestine self-photography through a continual evolution that would see him become a performance artist, a central figure in the burgeoning BDSM culture, a seeker who espoused eroticism as a spiritual practice, the founder of a “Radical Faeries” offshoot for the kink/fetish community, and ultimately an elder and mentor for a new generation for whom his once-taboo ideas and explorations had essentially become mainstream – thanks in no small part to his own pioneering efforts.

It’s a fascinating, hypnotic trip into a culture which might feel disturbingly transgressive to those who have never been a part of it – yet will almost certainly feel like being “seen” to those who have. It opens a window into a lifestyle where leather, kink, BDSM, gender play, and non-monogamous “situationships” are not just accepted but viewed as natural variations on the spectrum of human sexuality; and in the middle of it all is Musafar, on a deeply personal quest to connect with the deepest part of his essence through the intense and ritualistic pursuit of an inner drive that keeps pushing him further. As one reminiscing cohort remarks during the film, it’s as if he is “trying to find an answer to a question that” he “cannot form.”

Indeed, it might be said that Madsen’s movie is an exercise in forming that question; bringing his own “transness” into the mix as he examines the various aspects of Musafar’s ever-evolving relationship with self, identity, and presentation, he evokes a timely resonance in which the imperative to make physical form match psychic self-perception becomes an irresistible force, and draws a direct line between his subject’s fluid ambiguity and the plight faced by modern trans people over the bigotry of those who think gender is strictly about genitalia. Perhaps the question has to do with whether we are defined by our identities or by our physical form – or if both are malleable, adaptable, and in a constant state of flux.

In any case, with regard to Musafar, “A Body to Live In” is unquestionably a film about transformation, not just of physical manifestation but of consciousness itself. In his journey from being little Roland, the outcast schoolboy with a secret fetish, to Fakir, the spiritual psychonaut for whom sex and gender are only walls that separate us from a true and eternal essence, he is embodied by Madsen’s reverent documentary as a being in the process of breaking free from the restrictions of physical existence, of transcending all such distinctions by letting go of life itself – something underscored not only by the section of the movie dealing with the impact of the AIDS epidemic on Musafar’s deeply-bonded community, but by his own words, spoken in a deathbed interview that serves as a connecting thread throughout the film. We are kept unavoidably aware of the mortality which – for Musafar at least – seems little more than a prison that keeps us from the unfettered joy of our true nature.

But while Madsen honors his subject as a pillar – and an under-sung hero – of contemporary queer culture, he also addresses the aspects that made him a “problematic” figure; in his life, he drew criticism over perceived cultural appropriation from the indigenous American tribes whose sacred rituals inspired the kink-flavored practices which facilitated his own spiritual odyssey, and which he popularized among his own acolytes to give rise to the still-controversial “Modern Primitive” movement that has been criticized by some for turning meaningful cultural traditions into an excuse for trendy fashion accessories. Even Musafar’s survivors, whose love for him exudes palpably from the stories and memories they share of him throughout the film, make observations that point to his flaws; yet at the same time, Madsen’s documentary makes clear that Musafar himself never saw himself as perfect, either – just as someone willing to endure the kind of suffering that most of us might find unbearable in order to get closer to perfection.

Of course, it probably helped that he enjoyed that so-called “suffering,” but that’s perhaps too glib an observation in the face of a film that so clearly makes a case for the deep and sincere commitment he held for his quest for transcendence; but it’s also a helpful reminder that his practices – which might seem macabre and twisted to the uninitiated – were also an experience of joy, an exercise in rising above pain and making it a vehicle toward enlightenment, and in achieving a deeper understanding of one’s own place in this confusing place we call the universe.

Full disclosure: “A Body to Live In” is an intense experience, replete with candid sexual conversation, frequent nudity, and graphic scenes of extreme fetish practices – like suspension by metal hooks through the skin – which might be hard to handle for those who are unprepared to be confronted by them. Even so, as dark and menacing as it might be for the squeamish outsider, the world revealed in Madsen’s eloquent portrait is full of treasures and steeped in dark beauty, and it’s hard to imagine a more fitting way than that to portray a queer pioneer like the former Roland Loomis.

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Nightlife

In D.C. comedy, be sure to shop local

A thriving patchwork of queer-friendly stages in Washington, Baltimore

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(Photo courtesy of Jamie Mack)

Most people know stand-up comedy from Netflix specials or late-night sets on Comedy Central. The reality is far different for local working comics like me. A few times a month, I might get paid $50 for a 10-minute set and my photo on a bar flyer to show off to the ladies in my scrapbooking club.

Still, it’s a joy sharing laughs about my well-worn Washington career arc — from conservative reporter to openly trans organic grocery store worker and nightclub comedian. Or, as I like to say onstage, from Fox to foxy.

Stand-up is hard. Offstage, it’s even harder. It took more than a year and nearly 80 open mics to land my first paid set. Since then, I’ve performed in coffee shops, bars, restaurants and even on a city sidewalk. I once performed in the Catskills, which felt like a big deal — even if it was a bigger deal in the 1950s.

As an older trans comic in Washington, I’ve found it nearly impossible to get stage time — or even the courtesy of a returned email — at the big, corporate-owned comedy clubs. Fortunately, there’s a thriving patchwork of queer-friendly producers in Washington and Baltimore creating shows that reflect the diversity of our communities, instead of straight male-dominated lineups that look like the cast of “Ice Road Truckers.”

“There are so many kinds of funny people, but a lot of barriers exist for women and queer people because it’s a very masculine culture,” said Dana Fleitman, who runs the Just Kidding Comedy Collective and is helping produce the Woke Mob Comedy Festival in April, featuring many women and queer comics.

Full disclosure: I’m not performing in the festival. But I am proud to be one of more than 50 women and nonbinary comics Fleitman and her colleagues have helped “train up” through an incubator program she first ran through Grassroots Comedy and now through Just Kidding Comedy Collective.

Another trans comic, Charlie Girard, who splits time between New York and Washington, runs an incubator program called Queers Can’t Take a Joke. He has trained more than 100 comics in Washington.

Girard has one rule: no punching down.

“The best comics speak truth to power,” Girard said. “Making fun of marginalized communities is simple lazy writing based on tired, old stereotypes.”

Ultimately, Girard wants to prepare students not just for queer rooms, but to find their voice and expand into all kinds of spaces.

Comics trained by Girard and Fleitman have gone on to produce or help run shows like Clocked Comedy, Backbone Comedy, the Crackin’ Up open mic and Funny Side Up. Several have found a home on Barracks Row at As You Are — one of my favorite places to perform. In Washington, comic Jenny Cavallero’s show Seltzer is a sober comedy night frequently featuring local queer comics.

In Washington, performer and producer Arzoo Malhotra, who runs Zoo Animal Productions, said it’s a critical moment to support community-based comedy producers, often the first hit by worsening economic conditions.

“We’re losing spaces faster than we’re creating them,” Malhotra said. “We are in the use-it-or-lose-it stage. If there’s a restaurant you like or a performer you want to keep seeing, patronize them now — because they’re going away.”

I’m also grateful for producers in Baltimore, which has a thriving queer comedy scene. Comic Hannah Alden Jeffrey’s monthly “The Really Cool Open Mic,” created for women and trans performers but open to all, regularly draws up to 100 people.

Hannah’s mic and Kenny Rooster’s “Dramedy” open stage have provided safety and opportunity when other stages felt out of reach. Comedians Michael Furr and Jake Leizear also produce shows regularly featuring queer comics.

“We started the REALLY COOL Open Mic because every other mic in town catered toward straight dudes that dominated the Baltimore scene,” Alden Jeffrey said. “Contrary to the lineups of many shows today, people don’t want to see a show of eight guys being bigots. Go figure.”

One of the most important moments for me came when I attended a free showcase at a well-known Adams Morgan club. Like other big venues, it hadn’t responded to emails from a new comic looking for a shot. I sat in the back row thinking maybe these comics were just way funnier than I am.

Then a straight male comedian — with hair even more gorgeous than mine — launched into a long joke comparing eating pizza to performing oral sex on a woman.

At that moment, I walked out feeling better about myself. I remember thinking: nope. I absolutely deserve to be on that stage, too.

Lots of us do.

Jamie Mack is a stand up comedian, speaker and writer. Follow them on Instagram at @jamiemack_blt or email [email protected].

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Celebrity News

Liza Minnelli makes surprise appearance at GLAAD Media Awards

Laverne Cox’s fiery speech earned standing ovation

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Liza Minnelli surprises at the GLAAD Media Awards (Photo courtesy of GLAAD)

Last night’s GLAAD Media Awards had a few pleasant surprises in store.

Throughout the evening, which was hosted by “Mean Girls” star Jonathan Bennett on Thursday at the Beverly Hilton in Los Angeles, the audience was clued into the fact that a mystery guest would make an appearance. By the end of the night, it was revealed to be none other than “Cabaret” star and queer icon Liza Minnelli, who was in attendance to accept the newly-created Liza Minnelli Storyteller Award.

An emotional Minnelli told the crowd of queer attendees and creatives, “You make me so proud because you’re so strong, and you stand up for what you believe in. You really do, and it’s so nice to be here. I feel like a five-year-old!” Everyone then joined in a happy birthday celebration for Minnelli’s upcoming birthday on March 12, and the release of her upcoming memoir, “Kids, Wait Till You Hear This!”

Another moment that got the audience standing and cheering was when “Orange Is the New Black” star Laverne Cox took to the stage to call out how “what is going on right now in the United States of America is not right.”

She said, “Identify, I said this earlier, and I’m going to say it again, what dehumanizing language and images are. Call it out and don’t buy into it! So much of my struggle over the past several years [has been] trying to figure out how to combat this assault on my community, rhetorically. I do not want to have the conversation about my life and my humanity on the oppressor’s terms.”

That message was echoed by Bowen Yang and Matt Rogers when accepting the Stephen F. Kolzak Award for their “Las Culturistas” podcast and pledging to donate $10,000 to Equality Kansas after the state revoked transgender people’s driver’s licenses. “We cannot accept this award without condemning the rampant active transphobia from this administration,” Rogers said. “We are also here to let them know in advance that they are fighting a losing battle. When we gather in rooms like this, we are always going to have each other’s backs.”

Among the big winners last night were “Heated Rivalry” for outstanding new TV series, “The Traitors” for outstanding reality competition program, “Stranger Things” for outstanding drama series, “Palm Royale” (which was just cancelled after two seasons) for outstanding comedy series, “Come See Me in the Good Light” for outstanding documentary, “Kiss of the Spider Woman” for outstanding wide theatrical release film and a tie between “A Nice Indian Boy” and “Plainclothes” for outstanding limited theatrical release film.

Quinta Brunson received the Vanguard Award for her hit TV series “Abbott Elementary,” which features Jacob, an openly queer character played by Chris Perfetti. Brunson said, “Queer people have been a part of my life since birth. I have to shout out my uncle … who was the first example of representation in my life of queer people, who allowed me to be free. There are so many people in the room who changed my life.”

On the music side, Young Miko won for outstanding music artist, and KATSEYE won for outstanding breakthrough music artist. Demi Lovato even opened the show with a steamy performance of her single “Kiss.”

The GLAAD Media Awards will officially air Saturday, March 21 on Hulu.

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