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Igniting a disability rights revolution

‘Crip Camp’ tells story of pioneering protesters who won new rights

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Kathi Wolfe, gay news, Washington Blade

Kathi Wolfe (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

Recently, my cousin Marsha asked me if I wished I didn’t have a disability. I’ve been low vision since birth. Almost daily, a family member, friend, or stranger tells me my life must suck because I’m blind. I love Marsha. But, “I don’t want to be non-disabled,” I told her, “my disability is part of who I am. It’s part of what makes me Kathi!”

“I like being who I am,” I added. Why am I proud to be myself in a culture that often stigmatizes me because of my disability and sexuality? The roots of my pride go back to a group of teens who listened to rock music, smoked pot and made out at Camp Jened, a summer camp for disabled teenagers in the Catskills in the 1960s and 1970s.

The story of those campers and how they moved on from their “mini-Woodstock” to change the world is told in the Oscar-nominated documentary “Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution.” The documentary, produced by Barack and Michelle Obama, is directed by Nicole Newnham and Jim LeBrecht, a former Camp Jened camper. The doc, featuring rock music, raging sexuality and disability pride will give you, non-disabled, disabled, hetero or queer, a contact high.

You’ll learn from “Crip Camp” about how more than 100 disabled protesters, hetero and queer, led by Camp Jened alums, took over a San Francisco federal building for nearly a month in 1977. The sit-in, believed to be the longest non-violent takeover of a federal building, ignited a disability rights revolution.

Thankfully, the documentary doesn’t lecture us. The doc does what great documentaries do: It tells a riveting story.

I spent a week at camp when I was nine. I’m sure the camp staff meant well, but I was the only disabled camper there and ableism prevailed. My counselor cut my meat for me at dinner (though I had no problem with feeding myself). I was given a “special” award for my “courage.” Though I screamed when I found a tick in my hair.

I would have loved to have been at Camp Jened. There, the campers were treated as three-dimensional human beings. They weren’t “special.” At school during the year, they were often segregated in special education classes and shunned by the non-disabled kids. “I didn’t date in high school,” Judith (“Judy”) Heumann, a Camp Jened alum and author with Kristen Joiner of “Being Heumann: An Unrepentant Memoir of a Disability Rights Activist,” says in “Crip Camp.”

But, at Camp Jened, there were make-out sessions behind the bunks, she adds.

Lionel Je’Woodyard was a counselor at Jened. The disabled teens at Jened faced some of the same discrimination that he encountered as a Black man, Je’Woodyard says.

Years later, the seeds of self-respect planted in the teens at Jened bore fruit.

Heumann, who has polio and uses a wheelchair, is a founder of the disability rights movement. In April 1977, she and (the late) disabled, lesbian activist Kitty Cone led a month-long disability rights protest. The takeover was supported by the Black Panthers and the LGBTQ community.

Crip Camp, through archival footage and interviews with Heumann, Cone, queer disability activist and writer Corbett O’Toole and others, conveys the significance of this historic sit-in.  Protests were held in federal buildings in other cities, including, Washington. D.C.  as  result of the protests, on April 28, 1977, the regulations implementing Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 were signed.

“Section 504” says if you receive federal funds, you can’t discriminate against people because they’re disabled. For example, an employer receiving federal funds can’t deny you employment because you’re disabled. This was manna from heaven for we who’d been excluded. Section 504 was a precursor to the Americans with Disabilities Act.

The 504 sit-in was the Stonewall of the disability rights movement. Like many, I wasn’t there at the sit-in. Yet, I wouldn’t be out and proud today, if not for section 504 or Camp Jened.

 

Kathi Wolfe, a writer and a poet, is a regular contributor to the Blade.

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Vote Kenyan McDuffie for D.C. mayor

He will best protect D.C.’s interests amid federal meddling

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Kenyan McDuffie (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

Elections are always important, but this year in D.C. they will bring major changes. Because of that, your vote in the Democratic primary on June 16 is more important than ever. D.C. is so overwhelmingly Democratic it is a near certainty the winners in the Democratic primary will win the general election. So, I urge everyone eligible, take the time to vote. 

D.C. makes it very easy. Every registered voter has received a ballot in the mail. I cast mine before I left for a vacation. When you read this don’t put your ballot in the mail, rather vote at an early voting location, or put your ballot in one of the drop boxes around the city, or vote in person on June 16. You can find the locations for these options nearest you by going to the DCBOE website.

This year for the first time D.C.is dealing with rank choice voting, and who you rank second, or third, can make a difference in the outcome. It is important to note that you don’t have to rank the candidates. You can bullet vote for the one you like, or rank up to five. If there is one or more you like, you can simply choose a #1 and #2. Again, there is no requirement that you rank more people. From what I am seeing, in most of the races, even if five, six, or more, are running and listed on the ballot, in most of those races it will come down to one or two who have any chance. The way the city handles giving out our public money, it will cost us a lot of taxpayer dollars for all those people with no chance at all to win. I hope after these elections the Council will take a close look at how we do our public financing, and reform it. I am all for public financing, just not at the rate D.C. does it. We must ensure anyone who gets city money, accounts for every penny of it. It should never be spent on personal items. If it is not all used, it needs to be refunded to the city.

I have not made endorsements in every race, but clearly the most important race this year in D.C. is for mayor. After 12 years of Muriel Bowser serving as our mayor, there will be someone new sitting in that office after Jan. 1, 2027. What people must remember when voting for mayor, is the person we elect, even if Democrats take back Congress, and I think we will, must continue dealing with the felon in the White House for the first two years of their term. We have seen doing that requires the skill to walk a tightrope. While fighting him on nearly all he is doing, it’s crucial the mayor understands they must not alienate him to the point where he goes all out to attack the city, and the residents here. Remember, home rule gives the felon in the White House, and Congress, enormous power over us. Congress gets to review all our legislation, and our budgets, before they become law. The president controls the D.C. National Guard, and the federal agencies that in many cases get involved, and impact the work of our city. That includes housing, parks, the MPD, and others. There is only one person on the ballot who fully understands that, and has shown, by word and action, they know how to deal with him in the way that will benefit all the people in our city. That person is Kenyan McDuffie. I urge your #1 vote for him. If you have decided to vote for one of the other candidates, I would hope you would list him on your ballot as #2. 

Then for Democratic Council-at-large I urge you to consider a #1 vote for Kevin Chavous. Then Brian Schwalb for Attorney General, Phil Mendelson for Council Chair, and Brooke Pinto for delegate to Congress. For Ward 5 Council I recommend Zachary Parker. For Democratic Party slots, I urge a vote for all those running on the Democrats United for a Free D.C. slate. 

Then for the Independent Council-at-Large seat I urge a vote for Jacque Patterson or if you vote for Doni Crawford, rank Jacque #2. 

Again, the results of this election will determine the future of the District of Columbia. It is the most important election here in years. I urge everyone who can vote in the primary to do so. Your vote can make a difference to you, and all your neighbors. 


Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.

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Pride in a new world order

White House has dismantled global U.S. LGBTQ rights infrastructure

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Christopher Street Day march participants in Berlin in 2022. This year's Pride Month takes place against the backdrop of the dismantlement of the global U.S. LGBTQ rights infrastructure. (Washington Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

It can be tempting to feel somber this Pride. In 2025 and 2026, the United States dismantled much of the LGBTQ+ rights infrastructure it had spent decades building — eliminating the Global Equality Fund, defunding local LGBTQ+ organizations, and banning the rainbow flag from federal buildings and embassies. India unexpectedly rolled back transgender rights in March, stripping away the hard-won right to self-identify. Senegal passed an abhorrent anti-LGBTQ+ law in April, and a similar one just cleared parliament in Ghana.

But this is only part of the story. 2026 is also the year Rob Jetten — a proud gay man — became prime minister of the Netherlands, the youngest in the country’s history. It is the year Thailand celebrated the first anniversary of legalizing same-sex marriage, a historic first for Southeast Asia that is already influencing debates across the region. It is also the year “Heated Rivalry” became one of the most-watched shows on HBO, a global phenomenon.

In fact, LGBTQ+ people have never been more numerous, more visible, or more politically consequential than we are today. The question is not whether we have power. The question is whether we are using it to adapt to the emerging new world order.

Three geopolitical forces are redrawing the terrain. Borders and sovereignty are under renewed strain — this year showed us that the rules-based international order can no longer be taken for granted. Power politics is back at the center of global affairs, and when nations turn inward and militarize, those at the margins often pay the price first. And the institutions our movement has relied on most — governments, multilateral bodies, and multinational corporations — are proving unreliable allies.

The conclusion is that LGBTQ+ people cannot tie their future solely to the fortunes of liberal democracies. We need to come into our own power, and this turbulent moment may offer an opportunity to do so.

This requires a change in strategy. The LGBTQ+ movement has largely understood itself as a national movement in the business of changing hearts and minds one country at a time: win the courts, shift public opinion, and trust that progress would spread from north to south. That model delivered real victories on decriminalization, anti-discrimination protections, military service, and marriage equality. But it is showing diminishing returns. Today, political movements, financial flows, cultural narratives, and AI models increasingly operate globally outside of normative frameworks. Our movement has not kept pace.

LGBTQ+ people globally constitute a population larger than that of the United States. Our collective economic power approaches $4 trillion. We shape culture disproportionately in film, fashion, technology, and the arts. We are no longer a niche constituency petitioning for tolerance. We are a global community with growing economic, cultural, and political influence.

Realizing that potential requires three things. The first is unity — not uniformity, but the strategic coherence that allows a dispersed global community to act with shared purpose. The second is infrastructure: organizations and networks capable of operating across borders, pooling resources, and articulating a vision people want to be a part of. The third is abandoning a Western-centric mindset: building deeper roots in emerging economies will be essential.

There is a broader point. LGBTQ+ people should not be reduced to merely enduring or surviving this moment. We are entering a turbulent period in which humanity faces serious challenges — armed conflict, climate disruption, and technologies advancing faster than governance. LGBTQ+ people have often had to imagine a different future before it existed — and build the communities to sustain it across borders, generations, and class lines. That experience gives us a comparative advantage in this global context.

Pride, at its best, has always been a declaration of existence and a demand for dignity. In 2026, it should become something more: a reckoning with how much power our community has accumulated — and how seriously we intend to wield it to shape what comes next.

Fabrice Houdart is a former World Bank and United Nations staff member. He has taught at Georgetown University and Columbia University, and chairs the Institute of Current World Affairs in D.C.

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A vice president marches by our side

New exhibit explores Pride in the 2020s and asks what’s to come

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Vice President Kamala Harris addresses the crowd at the 2022 Capital Pride Festival. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

A photograph can change how we understand ourselves. In Rainbow History Project’s exhibit “Pickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington,” one pairing does exactly that: 10 Washingtonians in their Sunday best picketing the White House in 1965, and, a few panels later, Vice President Kamala Harris in a “Love is Love” Tshirt marching down Pennsylvania Avenue for Capital Pride in 2021. Between those two moments—anxious, buttonedup defiance on one side of the White House fence and a sitting vice president cheering among rainbow flags on the other—lies the story this exhibit tells.

Last year, we stretched that story along Freedom Plaza for WorldPride 2025, just three blocks from the White House. Over seven weeks, visitors from around the globe walked a timeline that showed how a small, risky White House picket helped ignite six decades of increasingly visible, intersectional Pride in the nation’s capital. They met organizers who insisted that gay history did not start at Stonewall, and that D.C. has been a laboratory for LGBTQ resistance since at least that first 1965 picket.

This June, as part of Dupont Underground’s “Matters of Pride” programming, we’re inviting you back underground to revisit what we showed the world last year—and to look harder at what it asks of us now. The tunnels below Dupont Circle will host the early eras of the exhibition: the White House picket; block parties at Lambda Rising bookstore, the first National March for Lesbian and Gay Rights in 1979 that brought more than 100,000 people onto the Mall; and the first D.C. Pride march that began at Howard University, led by BIPOC activists who carried every part of their identities into the streets.

Seen together, these moments make the theme “A Vice President Marches By Our Side” less about a single VIP participant and more about a changing relationship between our movements and the state. In 1965, picketers carefully followed dress codes to appear “employable” enough to be heard at all. By 1979, marchers filled the National Mall with banners that linked sexuality to feminism, racial justice, and antiwar activism. By the 2020s, a vice president could show up at Capital Pride, call for the Equality Act, and speak explicitly about protecting trans youth and communities of color. None of those shifts were guaranteed. All of them were built, step by step, by people who kept organizing whether or not anyone in power joined them.

The reinstall is also a chance to notice details you may have rushed past on a crowded WorldPride weekend: a handlettered sign demanding federal jobs in 1965; a quote from a 1970s organizer about the sheer relief of dancing in public; a photograph of local pioneers like SaVanna Wanzer, the founder of D.C. Trans Pride and Black Trans Pride, whose work helped make today’s Pride more fully trans inclusive even as Black trans folx remain under attack. These are not just artifacts; they are reminders of how much was risked so that we could take Pride for granted at all.

We are reinstalling this exhibit at a moment when very little about the future feels guaranteed. America’s 250th birthday is around the corner, and national debates over whose stories “belong” in the classroom, the public square, or in the archives, are already shaping policy. In that context, going back to the origins of D.C. Pride is more than nostalgia. It is a strategy lesson. The 1960s picketers, the 1979 marchers, the BIPOC activists leaving an intersectionality conference at Howard and marching to the Mall—all of them faced hostile climates, limited resources, and no certainty of success. Yet they showed up anyway, and in doing so, they expanded what was imaginable.

That is why, at the end of the reinstall, the exhibit turns back on you. The final section, “The Next 60 Years of Pride,” remains intentionally unwritten. Instead, you will find a simple question on the wall: “What will you do?” Visitors will have the chance to add their own commitments—large or small—to the story: what they will march for, organize for, or quietly sustain in the years ahead.

A vice president once marched by our side. This month at Dupont Underground, we are asking something both humbler and more radical: after everything we have learned from the past six decades of Pride in Washington, who will you be standing with, and what will you be brave enough to do next?

In conjunction with WorldPride 2025 the Rainbow History Project exhibited “Pickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington.” More than two years of planning resulted in seven weeks of outdoor education, centering the voices of Pride’s organizers. In the final of the 10 themes, we discuss “A Vice President Marches By Our Side,” about what Pride looked like in the 2020s and asking about Pride in the years to come. 


Vincent Slatt volunteers as the senior curator at the Rainbow History Project. 

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