World
Gay Nigerian priest makes religion serve LGBTQ people
Rev. Jide Macaulay founded House of Rainbow
It is impossible to speak of queer identity and culture without acknowledging the important role religion has played in shaping it throughout history. Whether it’s Pope Francis praising the work an American priest has done to affirm LGBTQ identity, or a Republican legislator rebuking the existence of transgender people by invoking scripture from the Bible, religion and spirituality unquestionably influence conversations about sexual identity in the U.S. and how American society would like for people to manifest their sexuality.
A significant portion of LGBTQ people in the U.S. are religious.
A study the UCLA School of Law’s Williams Institute conducted in 2020 found that 5.3 million LGBTQ adults are religious with almost half of this metric identifying as “highly religious.” Forty percent of those between ages 18 and 35 are religious, and 65 percent percent of those over 65 identify as religious as well. In addition, 71 percent of Black LGBTQ adults in the U.S. are religious.
The Washington Blade recently spoke with Rev. Jide Macaulay, founder and CEO of the London-based House of Rainbow CIC, to talk about his work as a gay Black African Christian priest.
Macaulay was born in London and grew up in Ikeja, the boisterous capital of Nigeria’s Lagos State. He was born into a religious family to parents who he described to the Blade during a 2017 interview as “very dedicated Christians.” His father was one of Nigeria’s leading theologians, so Macaulay’s upbringing was naturally Christian-centric, with him being involved in the church from a young age.
As a budding adult, Macaulay pursued theology as a profession and became an ordained minister in 1998 after training with his father. After a two-year hiatus from the church, he joined the Metropolitan Community Church in London to study theology and later joined its congregation as a minister in 2003. Macaulay says it was there that he became confident in his understanding that “God loves gay people regardless of all these messages of it being a taboo or abomination.”
Sheathed with this conviction, Macaulay moved back to Nigeria to create an environment that mimics that which he had experienced at the Metropolitan Community Church.
“It became important to me to go to Nigeria to create the same space and tell LGBTQ people that ‘God loves you just the way you are,’” says Macaulay. “I embodied a lot of the spirit of the human rights church that came out of the origin of the Metropolitan Community Church.”
Macaulay started House of Rainbow under this ideology on Sept. 2, 2006. This weekly gathering of LGBTQ Christians initially began with 34 congregants, but the congregation grew rapidly to a point where Macaulay “didn’t know what to do with all the people.” He says the growth “perplexed” him as he didn’t realize that House of Rainbow was so popular.
House of Rainbow encountered problems that emanated from operating in a country with virulent homophobic laws, despite its popularity. Many congregants were physically attacked for identifying as queer, and Macaulay recalls individuals emerging to church with broken noses and arms. The media also caught wind of House of Rainbow’s weekly gatherings and chaos ensued.
The culmination of these events forced Macaulay to leave Nigeria after two years. House of Rainbow remained steadfast with its mission to create a community for LGBTQ Christians and soldiered on for a couple of more years before it eventually dissolved.
“It’s unfortunate, now, that as I speak to you we do not have a House of Rainbow community in Nigeria,” says Macaulay. “We still have people connected [to the community], but we don’t have a physical presence or anyone leading it.”
House of Rainbow’s reach has nevertheless now become global, with communities established in 22 countries. The majority of them are in Africa.
‘Homosexuality is not a sin; it is who we are’
The crux of Macaulay’s ideology centers on inclusion and acceptance. He creates a space at House of Rainbow where LGBTQ individuals can not only gather in community, but can also feel seen and recognized as meaningful members and contributors to Christianity
“The important thing [that people need to understand] is that as a minister of the gospel of Christ, I want every LGBTQ person to make [it to] heaven,” says Macaulay. “I want them to be on a path towards salvation and redemption.”
“This whole language that if you are gay, you are destined for hell and eternal damnation is so wrong. That is even abusive in itself,” adds Macaulay.
He further invokes a popular scripture that loosely states, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”
This scripture is a part of what homophobic Christians use to denounce queerness. Macaulay, nevertheless emphasizes that there is a lack of complete understanding of what the scripture truly communicates.
“[The scripture] didn’t say that anyone is going to hell. It said that we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God,” says Macaulay. “Having said that, it is important to understand that homosexuality is not a sin; it is who we are.”
Macaulay’s work is therefore enmeshed in the need to fight for social justice causes. He aims to use the church as a platform to bring awareness to and fight for all iterations of LGBTQ rights. Whether it be racism, sexism, or classism, Macaulay aims to “be like Jesus” and emulate his unwavering passion to uplift those at the bottom of society’s hierarchy.
“It’s inconceivable to think that any religious space wouldn’t be a platform for social justice. Jesus Christ was about social justice,” says Macaulay. “Even the Civil Rights Movement in America had the church fighting injustices relating to racism.”
Macaulay stresses that the church needs to “do what is right” and stand up for the rights of LGBTQ people.
“In the Bible in Micah 6:18, it says, ‘What does the Lord require of you but to do justice? To love kindness and work in humility with your God,” says Macaulay. “Therefore, Christian leaders need to have a strong understanding of justice.”
When reflecting on the current state of religion, its diversion from and/or weak approach towards social justice, and also its complicity in oppressing minority groups, Macaulay says, “Jesus Christ would definitely be mad.”
Can you be a gay African and Christian?
Prior to being colonized by European countries, many African cultures had relaxed attitudes towards sexuality and gender. The Shona in Zimbabwe, Pangwe in Cameroon, Igbo in Nigeria and other African tribes all permitted queer existence without any negative repercussions.
The expansion of European global influence brought with it homophobic laws, which were largely enacted under the pretense of “Christian values,” that forced African countries to institutionalize queerphobia, which has now become an undeniable legacy of colonialism on the continent.
That colonialism introduced African populations to Christianity is not an uncommon sentiment among queer Africans and Africans in general. Hence, it is not uncommon to find LGBTQ Africans who denounce Christianity not only because of its association with the racism that fueled European occupation of the continent, but also its functioning as a tool that erased what many of them nostalgically view as a queer-affirming past tainted by the arrival of the white man.
Macaulay both believes and shuns this. He acknowledges that colonialism did participate in the erasure of queer acceptance in African cultures, however, the concept of Christianity being “unAfrican” is fallacious.
He asserts that African and Black African Christians existed before colonialism, and thus, the notion that Christianity is the “white man’s religion” is a false notion.
“Christianity was present in pre-colonial Africa,” says Macaulay. “In the Bible there are numerous references to Africa, including Egypt and Ethiopia where important biblical events happened, [for example], the story of the Israelites leaving Egypt in search of the promised land.”
Macaulay, because of this, spotlights the need for religion to be decolonized.
By reframing how Christians conceive of religion, from unlearning the notion that Jesus is white to acknowledging the existence of Black people in the Bible, one can have a more wholesome and truthful interaction with Christianity.
Also, this will allow for queer African Christians to exist in their queer communities comfortably as Macaulay states that there’s a need for them to occupy space in the community as proudly religious people without bearing the shame that is cast on them by what seems to be an agnostic-leaning landscape.
Lil Nas X and ‘going to hell’
Lil Nas X on March 26 released a single titled “Call Me By Your Name” which garnered massive attention for both its musical mastery through a catchy hook and its depiction of Black queerness. The accompanying video further dramatized the story by drawing from Christian visual imagery of heaven and hell, and God and the Devil.
The song’s video features scenes of Lil Nas X in sensual form, including him giving a caricature of Satan a lap dance. This particularly angered many religious groups, including Christian allies of the LGBTQ community who USA Today reported criticized the video for “going too far to prove a point.’”
Macaulay is a fan of Lil Nas X, who he dubs as his “favorite artist of all time right now, after Michael Jackson,” and for him, Lil Nas X’s discography extends beyond simple displays of queer identity.
Macaulay has one thought at the forefront of his mind when he looks at “Call Me By Your Name”: The concept of hell is abusive and a form of scaremongering.
“The concept of hell is propaganda. It is almost fictional,” says Macaulay. “The idea that if you do something wrong you will go to hell, is wrong in and of itself. Homosexuality was never wrong. Homophobia is wrong.”
He further underlines that God made gay people, and supports this with a scripture from the book of Philippians which loosely points to God’s omnipotent knowledge before, during, and after one’s life on earth.
Macaulay says that people should listen to Lil Nas X’s pain, and not rebuke him, because he speaks for millions of gay people.
“The reality is that when you tell people that they are going to hell, you are excommunicating them from living their own lives appropriately,” says Macaulay.
Macaulay nonetheless has a deep admiration for today’s younger generations, especially because they refuse to align themselves with the bigotry that ravages societal discourse about identity.
“I’m really glad for the young people that have stepped out. They are fighting back. They are the warriors and heroes saying, ‘Enough is enough. I’m proud, queer and African,’” says Macaulay. “I think that the sad reality for the Christian community is that they’re missing out on the gift and talents of the queer community [by being exclusive].”
Macaulay and House of Rainbow have created “GAYMoment,” a weekly online service that centers queer worship. Each Sunday, queer people from around the world gather online for prayer, sermon, and testimonies, all provided by queer people.
Macaulay champions sex positivity
Discussing sex and sexual identity is a topic from which Macaulay does not shy away. In fact, it is one that although he is a religious leader, he also approaches as a person of faith.
Macaulay, who lives with HIV, is a proponent of sex positivity.
“I think it’s important for every adult human being to experience a sexual relationship that is appropriate, suitable, and consensual,” says Macaulay. “It is important that everyone in their lifetime engages positively with sex, particularly adults. I don’t recommend it for minors though.”
Macaulay is also a vocal advocate for having honest and open conversations about sex and sexuality. He gives credence to the fact that society needs to address the lack of comprehensive sex education.
“Countries that have [addressed sex education] are doing better. They have less cases of STIs and teenage pregnancies,” says Macaulay. “Also, students get more opportunities to know more about various sexulities.”
Sex education should be age-appropriate and geared towards protecting children, minors, and vulnerable adults, says Macaulay. He believes that children should know about their bodies and be armed with the confidence to talk to adults when their boundaries are violated.
Thus, by keeping advocacy as the focal point, Macaulay, who is affectionately known as “Mama Jide” functions in a quintessential role in the queer community, one similar to that of house mothers in ballroom culture who outstretch themselves to the limits to ensure that their children not only have their basic needs, but also reach a point of complete self-actualization and realization of their purpose in life.
Noticias en Español
Un terremoto también se vive desde el exilio
Yonatan Matheus se nació en La Guaira, la zona venezolana más afectada por los sismos
El 24 de junio de 2026, dos terremotos sacudieron Venezuela y alteraron la vida de miles de personas en cuestión de segundos. Para gran parte del mundo fue una noticia que ocupó titulares durante algunos días. Para quienes nacimos allí, el tiempo pareció detenerse. Antes de pensar en la magnitud del sismo o en el número de viviendas afectadas, hubo una pregunta que desplazó cualquier otra: ¿estarán bien quienes amo?
Los desastres naturales no solo transforman los territorios; también modifican la manera en que quienes vivimos en el exilio nos relacionamos con el lugar al que seguimos llamando hogar. La distancia no reduce el dolor ni la preocupación por quienes permanecen allí. Cada llamada sin responder, cada fotografía y cada mensaje recuerdan que existen vínculos que sobreviven a las fronteras, al tiempo y a la propia migración.
Lo primero que hice fue llamar a mi familia en La Guaira. Durante esos minutos comprendí, una vez más, que también existen terremotos que se sienten desde el exilio. La incertidumbre crece con cada llamada que no entra y con cada mensaje que permanece sin respuesta.
Cuando finalmente logré comunicarme, confirmé que familiares y personas cercanas habían perdido sus hogares, que distintas zonas de La Guaira enfrentaban graves afectaciones y que comunidades como Carayaca, El Junko y otros sectores del oeste del estado también sufrían las consecuencias de los terremotos. Aunque algunas de estas localidades registraron daños estructurales de menor magnitud que las zonas más devastadas, sus habitantes también vieron alterada su vida cotidiana por la interrupción de servicios, las dificultades de acceso y la profunda interdependencia social, económica y comunitaria que caracteriza a La Guaira.
Algunos miembros de mi comunidad también habían fallecido. Entre ellos estaban dos hombres gays a quienes conocía. Sus nombres me recordaron que detrás de cada cifra existen historias, afectos y proyectos de vida. También me hicieron pensar en todas aquellas personas cuyas vidas y muertes difícilmente ocuparán un titular, especialmente quienes durante años vivieron en los márgenes, con escasa visibilidad y sin el pleno reconocimiento de su dignidad. Me recordaron, además, que las emergencias nunca afectan a todas las personas por igual y que quienes ya enfrentaban mayores condiciones de vulnerabilidad suelen soportar una carga aún más pesada durante la recuperación.
El país del que uno sale nunca desaparece
Nací y crecí en La Guaira. Allí permanecen buena parte de mi historia, mi familia, mis amistades y una comunidad que sigue formando parte de quien soy. Hace diez años tuve que salir de Venezuela y solicitar asilo en Estados Unidos como consecuencia de la persecución que enfrenté por ser un hombre gay y defensor de derechos humanos. Con el tiempo comprendí que el exilio no consiste únicamente en cambiar de país. También significa aprender a vivir con la certeza de que una parte de nosotros permanecerá siempre en el lugar del que tuvimos que partir.
Cada celebración familiar, cada crisis y cada tragedia confirman que seguimos perteneciendo a ese territorio. Las personas refugiadas y migrantes no dejamos de vivir las emergencias de nuestros países de origen; simplemente las vivimos de otra manera. Mientras otras personas pueden desplazarse para abrazar a sus familias o participar directamente en las labores de ayuda, quienes estamos lejos intentamos acompañar desde la incertidumbre, con la impotencia de saber que el corazón permanece donde el cuerpo ya no puede estar.
Quizá esa sea una de las dimensiones menos visibles del desplazamiento forzado. Vivimos las tragedias de nuestro país a la distancia, con menos posibilidades de actuar físicamente, pero con el mismo dolor y con un profundo sentido de responsabilidad hacia las personas y los lugares que siguen formando parte de nuestra historia.
Cuando una casa representa toda una vida
Después de una emergencia suele repetirse una frase bien intencionada: “Lo importante es que todos están vivos; lo material se recupera.” Aunque busca transmitir esperanza, también puede invisibilizar una realidad profundamente humana. En Venezuela, una vivienda rara vez representa únicamente una construcción. Es el resultado de años de trabajo, sacrificios compartidos y sueños familiares. En sus paredes también habitan recuerdos, fotografías, documentos y la memoria de quienes la construyeron.
Cuando un terremoto destruye un hogar, también altera el proyecto de vida de una familia. Por eso no basta con volver a levantar edificios. Es necesario crear las condiciones para que las personas recuperen estabilidad, seguridad y la posibilidad de imaginar nuevamente un futuro. Como trabajador social, estoy convencido de que los territorios no vuelven a ponerse de pie únicamente con cemento. También necesitan confianza, organización, apoyo mutuo y espacios donde las personas puedan elaborar el duelo y fortalecer nuevamente sus redes de apoyo.
Ese proceso tampoco ocurre en igualdad de condiciones para todas las personas. Los desastres suelen profundizar desigualdades que ya existían antes de la emergencia. Las personas adultas mayores, la niñez, las personas con discapacidad, quienes viven con enfermedades crónicas o con VIH y muchas personas LGBTQ, especialmente aquellas que enfrentan pobreza, discriminación o redes de apoyo limitadas, suelen encontrar mayores obstáculos para acceder a servicios, restablecer sus medios de vida o volver a sentirse seguras. Una respuesta verdaderamente humanitaria no consiste únicamente en llegar primero; consiste en asegurar que nadie quede atrás cuando comienza el largo camino para reconstruir su vida.
Cuando la emergencia deja de ser noticia
Las primeras horas después de un desastre suelen despertar lo mejor de una sociedad. Vecinas y vecinos organizan rescates, personas voluntarias distribuyen alimentos, equipos de salud trabajan sin descanso y miles de ciudadanos, dentro y fuera del país, buscan la manera de ayudar. Esa movilización espontánea representa uno de los recursos más valiosos frente a cualquier crisis y demuestra que, incluso en contextos de profunda polarización, la vida humana sigue siendo capaz de convocar encuentros.
Sin embargo, para quienes sobrevivieron, el verdadero desafío apenas comienza cuando la emergencia deja de ocupar los titulares. Mientras los medios dirigen su atención hacia otras noticias y las donaciones disminuyen, miles de familias siguen intentando recuperar sus hogares, restablecer sus medios de vida y reorganizar una cotidianidad profundamente alterada. La crisis termina mucho antes para la opinión pública que para quienes continúan enfrentando sus consecuencias.
En la acción humanitaria suele describirse un fenómeno conocido como fatiga de la compasión. En términos generales, hace referencia a la disminución progresiva de la atención pública y de parte de la movilización solidaria conforme una crisis deja de ocupar el centro de la conversación. No significa que desaparezca la voluntad de ayudar, sino que nuevas urgencias desplazan rápidamente a las anteriores. El riesgo es que los territorios afectados queden solos precisamente cuando enfrentan la etapa más compleja de volver a levantarse.
Las principales organizaciones humanitarias recuerdan que reparar edificios constituye sólo una parte del proceso. También es indispensable fortalecer la salud mental, ofrecer apoyo psicosocial, recuperar el tejido comunitario y garantizar que la población participe activamente en las decisiones sobre su propio futuro. Una vivienda puede reconstruirse en algunos meses; recuperar la sensación de seguridad, la confianza o el sentido de pertenencia suele requerir mucho más tiempo.
Esta realidad resulta especialmente importante para quienes ya enfrentan condiciones de vulnerabilidad antes del terremoto. Las personas adultas mayores, la niñez, las personas con discapacidad, quienes viven con VIH y muchas personas LGBTQ suelen encontrar mayores barreras para acceder a servicios, mantener sus tratamientos, recuperar sus ingresos o reconstruir sus redes de apoyo. Las emergencias no crean esas desigualdades, pero con frecuencia las hacen más visibles y profundas. Por eso, una recuperación verdaderamente sostenible no consiste únicamente en volver al punto donde estábamos antes del desastre, sino en aprovechar ese proceso para reducir brechas históricas y fortalecer la inclusión.
Como trabajador social, prefiero hablar de una resiliencia consciente. No de una resiliencia que exige fortaleza permanente o invita a ocultar el dolor bajo la idea de que “hay que seguir adelante”, sino de aquella que reconoce las pérdidas, entiende que el duelo necesita tiempo y acepta que pedir ayuda también forma parte del camino. Ninguna comunidad debería sentirse obligada a reconstruirse sola, ni ninguna persona a demostrar que ya superó una tragedia antes de estar preparada para hacerlo.
Permanecer también es una forma de ayudar
El exilio me impidió estar físicamente en La Guaira durante los días posteriores a los terremotos, pero no me impidió asumir la responsabilidad de acompañar desde donde hoy me encuentro. Durante esas semanas utilicé mis plataformas para verificar información antes de compartirla, visibilizar localidades que históricamente han recibido menor atención —como Carayaca, El Junko y otros sectores del oeste del estado— y promover mensajes centrados en las necesidades de la población afectada.
Ese compromiso también dio origen a la serie documental La Guaira: Antes y Después, un esfuerzo por documentar cómo cambiaron distintos espacios y contribuir a que no desaparezcan de la memoria colectiva cuando termine la cobertura periodística. Más que registrar la destrucción, busca recordar que detrás de cada fotografía existen familias que seguirán necesitando apoyo mucho después de que las cámaras se hayan ido.
Creo profundamente que comunicar con responsabilidad también es una forma de acción humanitaria. Verificar antes de publicar, evitar la desinformación y mantener visibles a los territorios históricamente olvidados constituye una manera concreta de acompañar el proceso de recuperación y fortalecer el compromiso colectivo desde la distancia.
La solidaridad que decide quedarse
Los terremotos del 24 de junio de 2026 dejarán cicatrices visibles en edificios, carreteras y viviendas. Otras permanecerán en silencio, acompañando a familias que deberán reconstruir no solo sus hogares, sino también su sensación de seguridad, sus proyectos de vida y la confianza en el futuro.
Como venezolano, guaireño, refugiado y defensor de derechos humanos, esta experiencia reforzó una convicción que ha guiado buena parte de mi trabajo: las personas deben permanecer en el centro de cualquier respuesta humanitaria. Ninguna diferencia política, institucional o ideológica debería ser más importante que proteger la vida, aliviar el sufrimiento y garantizar que quienes enfrentan mayores condiciones de vulnerabilidad reciban el acompañamiento que necesitan para volver a empezar con dignidad.
Los terremotos dejan de sentirse cuando la tierra deja de temblar. El olvido comienza cuando dejamos de mirar. Entre una cosa y otra existe un largo camino que exige memoria, compromiso sostenido y la decisión colectiva de no abandonar a quienes siguen intentando levantarse cuando el resto del mundo ya ha seguido adelante. Porque una sociedad no termina de recuperarse cuando reconstruye sus edificios; lo hace cuando todas las personas tienen la oportunidad de volver a vivir con seguridad, esperanza y la certeza de que nadie quedó atrás.
Yonatan Matheus (He/Him/Él) es defensor de derechos humanos LGBTQ y trabajador social y activista. Trabaja en la intersección entre Migración, Justicia Social y respuesta al VIH.
Este comentario salió en el sitio web de Yonatan el 6 de julio.
Egypt
Egyptian authorities refuse to allow gay cruise to dock in country
Scarlet Lady earlier this week blocked from visiting Turkey
Egyptian authorities have refused to allow a gay cruise to dock in the country.
The Scarlet Lady, a Virgin Voyages ship that Atlantis Events chartered, was to have docked in Alexandria, a port city on the Mediterranean Sea. The Washington Blade obtained a letter that Atlantis Events President Rich Campbell sent to passengers on Thursday, hours before the cruise was to have arrived.
“Early this morning, we were informed that Scarlet Lady has been denied entry into Egyptian waters and, as a result, will no longer be able to call in Alexandria today,” he wrote.
“I know how much this visit meant to so many of you,” added Campbell. “We successfully sailed a similar itinerary last year, so we were surprised by this unfortunate decision.”
Campbell noted “both the Atlantis and Virgin Voyages teams worked tirelessly to make this call in Alexandria a possibility.”
“This news came as a surprise to all of us, and we’re just as disappointed as you are,” he said.
The 10-day cruise left Athens on July 5. It is scheduled to end in Trieste, Italy, on July 15.
The ship had been scheduled to dock in Kusadasi, a Turkish resort town on the Aegean Sea, and Istanbul earlier this week. Turkish authorities refused to allow it in the country.
Former Tempe, Ariz., Mayor Neil Giuliano, who is an LGBTQ+ Victory Institute board member, is among those on the cruise.
“Just a few hours before arriving in Alexandria, Egypt — a city founded by and named for one of the ancient world’s best-known homosexuals — government authorities rescinded permission for our ship of 2,000 gay men to enter Egypt,” wrote Steve May, who is also on the ship, on Thursday in a Facebook post.
Alexander the Great founded Alexandria in 331 B.C.
“As with Turkey, we have been sent away not because of what we did, but because of who we said we are,” said May. “‘I am what I am’ is too much liberty for some to bear. So it was in the United States as well not long ago, where even I ended up as a convicted homosexual after a military trial in 2001 for saying ‘I am gay.’ This is just a reminder that for all the progress we have made, our freedom is never secure — for any of us, regardless of who or how we love. Back to Europe!”
Discrimination and persecution based on sexual orientation and gender identity is commonplace in Egypt. The Egyptian Football Association, along with the Football Federation Islamic Republic of Iran, objected to playing in the World Cup’s “Pride Match” that took place in Seattle on June 26.
Netherlands
Dutch prime minister scheduled to open World Pride human rights conference
Rob Jetten is country’s first openly gay head of government
Dutch Prime Minister Rob Jetten is scheduled to open this year’s World Pride Human Rights Conference in Amsterdam.
Organizers in a July 1 press release said Jetten will open the conference on Aug. 5. Amsterdam Mayor Femke Halsema; South African Deputy Minister for Women, Youth, and People with Disabilities Steve Letsike; former Venezuelan National Assemblywoman Tamara Adrián; and Graeme Reid, the independent U.N. expert on LGBTQ and intersex issues, are among those who are also expected to participate in the gathering that will end on Aug. 7.
Jetten, 39, in February became the Netherlands’s first openly gay prime minister.
His centrist D66 party won the country’s elections last October. Geert Wilders’s far-right Party for Freedom narrowly lost.
Jetten took office after he formed a coalition government that includes the center-right Christian Democrats and the center-right People’s Party for Freedom and Democracy.
World Pride will take place in Amsterdam from July 25-Aug. 8.
New book reveals what we can learn from animal sex
Who might replace Lindsey Graham? The contenders and their LGBTQ records
PHOTOS: Westminster Pride
Un terremoto también se vive desde el exilio
PHOTOS: Emerald City Pride
Mr. Henry’s celebrates 60 years of proud inclusivity
It’s good to see some justices standing up to Trump
Egyptian authorities refuse to allow gay cruise to dock in country
Queer media dominates 2026 Emmy nominations
