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A tribute to our LGBTQ bars

From Pulse to Club Q, these spaces are sacred

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A memorial to Club Q was set up outside As You Are Bar on Sunday, Nov. 20, 2022. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

(Editor’s note: I wrote this piece in 2016 after traveling to Orlando to cover the Pulse massacre. Sadly, its message is newly relevant today after the horrific events in Colorado Springs.) 

ORLANDO, Fla. — The world watched in horror this week as the proudly resilient LGBT community here coped with unthinkable tragedy.

Sadly, our community has a lot of experience with such things.

From the AIDS crisis in which we fought an indifferent government and hostile neighbors. To an untold number of previous attacks on our bars and clubs, including the 1973 firebombing of the UpStairs Lounge in New Orleans that killed 32 gay men. To enduring the playground taunts and everyday slurs that go along with being “different” in this country.

We were horrified, too, about what happened at Pulse, though not as shocked as our straight counterparts. They will never know what it’s like to walk through life with a permanent target on your back. To pause before each touch; to hesitate before exchanging a hug or kiss with a partner or spouse. To calculate before coming out at work. To endure the judgmental stares when checking in at a hotel or booking a restaurant reservation on Valentine’s Day. To walk around the block, scanning the scene before mustering the nerve to walk into a gay bar. To be insulted, mocked, beaten up just for loving someone of the same sex. We’ve all been there.

So much has been written in recent years about this “post-gay” world in which we supposedly live. A world in which there’s no need for LGBT-identified spaces like bars, clubs, coffee shops, bookstores and, yes, newspapers, because we’re “integrated” and “accepted” now.

What happened in Orlando is a heartbreaking reminder that there’s no such thing as “post-gay,” and that our spaces are sacred. Where outsiders see only a bar or club, we see a community center or the place where we formed our closest friendships or met our significant others. Our bars and clubs have played a heroic role in supporting the community, serving as gathering places in times of triumph and tragedy and helping to raise countless dollars to fund our causes, to fight HIV, to aid our own. When the government turned its back, the first dollars raised to fight AIDS came from the bar and club scene.

The attack in Orlando was an attack on all of us because there’s a Pulse in every city in this country. A place where we can let our guard down, be ourselves, embrace our friends and kiss our partners openly. We need those places because regardless of whether you live in Dupont Circle or rural Alabama, there is a risk in engaging in public displays of affection if you’re LGBT.

A look at the public response to the Orlando massacre reveals just how much work lies ahead. The Florida governor has tried to erase LGBT identity from the attack. We can’t even get validation in death in some quarters. The lieutenant governor of Texas tweeted homophobic Bible verses on the morning of the attack yet somehow still has a job. Last week, before the attack, Rep. Rick Allen (R-Ga.) read a Bible verse on the U.S. House floor that calls for the death of gay people. Shortly after, the House voted overwhelmingly to reject a spending bill that included discrimination protections for LGBT workers.

Even those Republicans who have issued milquetoast statements offering “thoughts and prayers” are left to reconcile those sentiments with their own voting records hostile to LGBT causes. The presumptive GOP nominee for president, whose name I can’t bear to include in a tribute to Orlando, claims to care about what happened, yet has pledged to nominate Supreme Court justices committed to overturning the marriage equality ruling.

Hillary Clinton is right — this isn’t the time for politics. As we struggle with how to respond to the massacre and to those who would demonize and discriminate against us and cast us back into the closet, we should resist the urge to lash out and respond simply with love.

It’s been humbling to be here in Orlando this week, watching members of our community cope with such grace, dignity and determination. They didn’t shut down the community center in fear, instead they opened the doors wide to all while working tirelessly to raise money for the victims, collect donations of water and supplies for blood centers overwhelmed by volunteers, negotiate deals with airlines to fly loved ones to town for unexpected funerals and more.

One of the remarkable people I’ve met here this week, Pastor Brei, said it best:
“Have faith and believe that evil and hate can be eradicated one person at a time. How do you treat someone? How do you embrace someone who treats you wrong? We all bleed, laugh, hope and have great victories and major defeats. And so, you know me, even if you don’t know my name — I’m you.”

Kevin Naff is editor of the Washington Blade. Reach him at [email protected]

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My chance encounter with a pope and why goodness still matters

Early morning Vatican stroll turns into unforgettable memory

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Basilica of St. Peter in the Vatican. (Photo by TatyanaGl/Bigstock)

It’s not every day you meet a pope. Mine was Pope John Paul. In the recent passing of Pope Francis, and all the love and generosity of this ”People’s Pope,” I was reminded of a similar man, with a similar heart, who I had the fortune to one day meet. 

There’s no real yardstick for measuring a man who’s the head of an institution that has been around since the Romans, who commands the respect of more than a billion people, and whose job it is to keep alive a 2,000-year-old message of love, hope, generosity, and salvation. 

I wasn’t planning on meeting him. More like it was fated, or I’d like to believe that.

I was on a spiritual journey of my own. My schoolwork was over in Norway, and I was headed to Lebanon to write about the war there. I was a young man of 17, trying to figure out the world and how it worked — or didn’t.

It was a week before Easter when I found myself in Rome, standing at the far edge of St. Peter’s Square. As I remember, it was very early and a very beautiful morning, sometime around six or so. Even at that age, I found great solace in the solitude of the early morning. It’s as if I had the entire Square to myself, reflecting on this singular moment in time that I was alone in one of the greatest places of spiritual gathering in the world. 

But I wasn’t alone. Next to the fountain where I had parked my backpack laid a man, curled up next to the stone wall, in the gentle universal snore of inebriation. I quietly cupped some water to wash my face and neck, which apparently was enough to stir the man from his sleep.

I nodded my head at him, smiled, and gave a short wave in the universal sign that we were all good and passing fellows. He groggily waved back. I was about to gather up my rucksack and head out when I saw a man strolling across the far side of the Square, about 100 yards away  He was in no hurry, which intrigued me. Another soul in search of morning quietude, I thought to myself.  He sauntered along, thoroughly enjoying the morning air, occasionally looking up at the sky, which was equally as intriguing.

He was a happy man who was happy to be alive. I thought it was remarkable that on that morning, there were two happy people in the world, and they were both in St. Peter’s Square.

As if a bee to a flower, the man took a direction to a small group of people, three or four more souls walking together who stopped as the man approached them. I saw one of them reach out for the man’s hand and then he kissed it. Now my curiosity turned to wonderment, trying to understand what was taking place.

My Roman fountain friend began a slow drunken babble to me as he gestured toward the small cluster that I was evidently staring at. His Italian was as good as my English, and that was the end of it. Though he continued to say, “Papa, Papa.” I queried him back, having no clue what his Papa was. Then he sat up as if to collect every ounce of clarity that still inhabited him and said, “Pope-a.” I pointed to the group. “The Pope?”   He nodded his head and said, “Si. Il Pope-a” (which I later understood was a combination of the affectionate and respectful use of Papa for the Pope, combined with our English version — thus, “Pope-a”).

He smiled. I smiled. The apostle of the fountain had conveyed his message, and I was on my way to meet the pope. 

Quickly, I made my way to the small gathering. I was a little unsure of how to add myself to the procession, as small as it was. My mind started to whirl with pope-laden imaginings. Would he be talking in Latin? Wearing silk robes? Would he be holding some relic of St. Peter’s golden staff?   

I then slowed my walk, brought myself to the edge of the group, and there he was — the pope, John Paul himself. He was smaller than I had imagined. No staff or silk robes. He was chatting up the small group as if they were neighbors meeting in the middle of the sidewalk, exchanging news of the neighborhood or the latest sport’s scores, all in a breezy mixture of Italian and English. 

He then spotted me and waved me over. I froze for a moment. With no time to study the Pope Manual of Papal Etiquettecy, I had no clue if I should kiss the ring or the hand, or shake it, or what? Not being Catholic, I was not versed on how to properly greet a pope.  

I then did what any non-Catholic American 17-year-old kid on a spiritual journey would do: I combined a handshake with a nod/kiss on the hand and the biggest kid-smile I could muster. He smiled back, with the understanding of what it was to be a pope and meet a kid like me both in awe and in happiness at being together there on the Sunday morning in St. Peter’s Square. 

He asked me a few questions for which I have no memory of my answers. It didn’t matter. I was talking with the pope.  

There was no Instagram, or Facebook, or selfie-taking back then. Everyone somehow understood that this was a moment you stored in your mind and in your heart.  To take pictures would have somehow sullied it, and everyone knew it. 

John Paul was a man on a morning stroll, who shared his intimate time with a group of fellow morning seekers. He was warm, kind, and cordial — a prince of a fellow in my book. The type of man you could talk to in a bar, or on a train, or on a park bench.  He practiced the generosity that is the best of the human spirit — to give without expecting anything in return. A gift of love that needs no bartering or transaction to fulfill it.  

Lately, and with the recent passing of Pope Francis, I thought I needed to commemorate this memory of this day on paper. Watching how generous Pope Francis was with his love, to the children, to the sick and poor, to the downtrodden, to those who are so easily trampled over in the modern day haste to make civilization “better” and “faster,” it was no stretch to remember another man who so equally and mightily gave his heart and soul to others.

In a world where so many are seemingly trying to figure out who to hate and how to hate them, I find great solace in knowing that there are those who understand that the better angels of our nature are to be better. 

On a beautiful Sunday morning, in the small tide of the oceans of history, I met with a man who helped me to remember once again that the Golden Rule is golden because it shines with goodness, grace, and generosity, and that is no small endeavor for all of us to journey toward in all of our lives.


Carew Papritz is the award-winning author of ‘The Legacy Letters’ who inspires kids to read through his ‘I Love to Read’ and ‘First-Ever Book Signing’ YouTube series.

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‘A New Alliance for a New Millenium, 2003-2020’

Revisiting the history of gay Pride in Washington

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A scene from the 2001 Capital Pride Festival. (Washington Blade archive photo by Clint Steib)

In conjunction with WorldPride 2025, the Rainbow History Project is creating an exhibit on the evolution of Pride: “Pickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington.” It will be on Freedom Plaza from May 17-July 7. This is the ninth in a series of 10 articles that share the research themes and invite public participation. In “A New Alliance for a New Millenium” we discuss how Whitman-Walker’s stewardship of Pride led to the creation of the Capital Pride Alliance and how the 1960s demands of the Mattachine Society of Washington were seen as major victories under the Obama administration.

This section of the exhibit explores how the Whitman-Walker Clinic, a cornerstone of the community since the 1970s, stepped up to rescue Pride from a serious financial crisis. The Clinic not only stabilized Pride but also helped it expand, guiding the festival through its 30th anniversary and cementing its role as a unifying force for the city’s LGBTQ population. As Whitman-Walker shifted its focus to primary healthcare, rebranding as Whitman-Walker Health, a new era began with the formation of the Capital Pride Alliance (CPA). Born from the volunteers and community partners who had kept Pride going, CPA took the reins and transformed Capital Pride into one of the largest free LGBTQ festivals in the country. Under CPA’s stewardship, the festival grew to attract hundreds of thousands, with multi-day celebrations, headline performers, and a vibrant parade. 

This period saw Pride become a true cross-section of the community, as former Capital Pride Alliance executive director Dyana Mason recalled: “It was wonderfully diverse and had a true cross section of our community… Everybody was there and just being themselves.” The festival’s expansion created space for more people to find a sense of belonging and affirmation. This growth was made possible through the support of sponsors, volunteers, and a city eager to celebrate-but it also sparked ongoing debates about the role of corporate funding and the meaning of Pride in a changing world.

National politics are woven throughout this era. In a powerful moment of recognition, Frank Kameny — the architect of D.C.’s first White House picket for gay rights and a founder of the Mattachine Society — was invited to the White House in 2009. There, President Obama and the U.S. government formally apologized for Kameny’s firing from federal service in 1957, a symbolic act that echoed the earliest demands of DC’s own Mattachine Society, the city’s first gay civil rights organization founded in 1961. The 2009 National Equality March revived the spirit of earlier mass mobilizations, linking LGBTQ rights to broader movements for social justice. The 2010s brought landmark victories: “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was repealed, marriage equality became law. These wins suggested decades of protest had borne fruit, yet new generations continued to debate the meaning of true liberation and inclusion.

Our exhibit examines how the political edge of Pride has softened as the event has grown. As the festival expanded in scale and visibility, the focus on protest and activism has sometimes faded into the background, even as new challenges and divisions have emerged. Some voices have called for a return to Pride’s more radical roots. The 2017 Equality March for Unity and Pride drew 80,000 people to D.C., centering intersectional struggles — police violence, immigrant rights, trans inclusion — and exposing the widening rift between mainstream LGBTQ progress and the lived realities of the most vulnerable. The question remains: Are LGBTQ officers marching in uniform a sign of progress or a painful reminder of Pride’s roots in resistance to state violence? During Capital Pride 2017, activists blocked the parade, targeting floats sponsored by corporations linked to weapons manufacturing, pipeline financing, and other forms of oppression. 

As we prepare for WorldPride and the anniversaries of D.C.’s first Gay Pride Day Block Party and the White House picket, the Rainbow History Project invites you to experience this living history at Freedom Plaza. Through archival images and the voices of organizers and participants, you’ll discover how Pride in DC has been shaped by resilience, reinvention, and the ongoing struggle to ensure every voice is heard. 


Zoey O’Donnell is a member of the Rainbow History Project. Vincent Slatt is RHP’s senior curator. 

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Council must approve new Commanders stadium deal

An important catalyst for economic development

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RFK Stadium (Screen capture via Voice of America/YouTube)

I am a strong supporter of the Commanders stadium deal at the RFK site. The Council members who understand economic development will vote “yes.” 

Chairman Phil Mendelson, and some of the others, are smart. Despite the chair being peeved he wasn’t in on the negotiation, he will have some good ideas to tweak the deal, and will then get the seven members of the Council needed to pass it. While the deadline is July 15, there is a paragraph in the agreement reading it can be extended if both sides agree. Again, Mendelson is a smart guy. He will not pass up this incredible opportunity. Besides that, he recognizes it could happen without the Council if the president and Congress want it. It was NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, and Commanders owner Josh Harris, who worked with the mayor, lobbying hard to get us the 180-acre site. Chances are, without their help, we wouldn’t have it. So, the deal will move forward, as it should, based on its merits. 

The domed stadium proposed by the Washington Commanders for the 180-acre RFK site is only one part of the planned incredible economic development opportunity Mayor Muriel Bowser has negotiated. This was a dream of the mayor for 10 years, and she worked with Congress to get the site turned over to the District. This finally happened last year when Congress passed the D.C. Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Stadium Campus Revitalization Act. The legislation was signed into law by President Biden in January 2025. It gave the District the ability to develop the long-underutilized space for a mix of uses, lifting the restrictions that were in place under the previous lease. The legislation requires 30% of the RFK campus be reserved for parks and open space, not including a 32-acre riparian area along the Anacostia River.

Since the legislation was signed, the mayor worked closely with Josh Harris, principal owner of the Commanders, to negotiate the single largest private investment in the District’s history — a $2.7 billion investment from the Commanders. The mayor understands this investment will be the catalyst to activate 180 acres of what she has called ‘opportunity’ at the RFK campus. It is not only a sparkling new domed stadium. That will complement the transformation of the entire campus to include housing, parks and recreation, hotels, restaurants, retail, and neighborhood amenities. 

The mayor understands the economy of D.C. is changing. Between the pandemic, and now reduction in federal workforce, the city has to change how we generate revenue. As the mayor said, “When we got control of 180 acres of land on the banks of the Anacostia, we knew right away that partnering with the Commanders would be the fastest, and surest, route to bringing the entire RFK campus to life. As we focus on the growth of our economy, we’re not only bringing our team home, but we’re also bringing new jobs and new revenue to our city, and to Ward 7.” We have seen what Nationals’ stadium did as the catalyst for that part of D.C. Remembering the fights over that stadium, and the fact the city, not the team, paid for it, we know it moved forward profitable development of the entire area by a minimum of 10 years. 

Yes, it may be possible to redevelop this 180-acre site without a stadium; but it’s also clear it would take at a minimum at least 10 years longer, if ever, to do it without the Commanders investment. Under the terms of the deal, the Commanders will drive the investment of at least $2.7 billion to build a roofed stadium that can be used year-round, together with related improvements. The District will invest $500 million for stadium horizontal and non-vertical costs, paid for from the Sports Facilities Fee (formerly known as the Ballpark Fee). By leveraging dedicated funds from the Sports Facilities Fee, the District will not need to make cuts to the city’s operating budget. In addition, the District will facilitate parking development using a $175 million revenue bond, which will be funded by in-stadium activity once the stadium is operating. Events DC will contribute up to $181 million for parking garages near the community recreation facilities, which Events DC will own. Additionally, similar to other large development projects such as St. Elizabeths East, the District will invest $202 million for utilities infrastructure, roadways, and a WMATA transit study. The study will determine if at some time there might be new bus routes, or even an additional Metro stop. Let us remember there was a stadium there before and the RFK campus is today readily accessible by many public transit options.

The approximately 65,000-seat stadium, expected to open in 2030, will occupy only 11% of the site. In addition to building the stadium, the Commanders will be responsible for activating and developing multiple parcels of land around the stadium. Those will include restaurants, entertainment venues, hotels, housing, green space, and more. The entire campus is expected to create approximately 5,000-6,000 housing units, of which at least 30% being affordable housing.

Throughout the construction process, the District will seek to preserve and continue to operate the popular Fields at RFK. The District will invest an additional $89 million to build a new sportsplex to host year-round sporting events and tournaments for youth in D.C. The mayor’s Fiscal Year 2026 budget proposal will include $89 million for the sportsplex. Adjacent to the fields, park space, and sportsplex, the District will develop a new Kingman Park District, which will include housing, mixed-use development, open space, and recreational space. To do this, the campus planning effort, will be taking all the development parcels through the D.C. 2050 Comprehensive Plan update. In this way, community members and neighbors will have an opportunity to weigh in on what types of uses would best serve the community. All parcels in the Kingman Park District will go through the District’s RFP process and prioritize local businesses.

As the economy of the District changes, the mayor and Council must be
focused on responding to the shifts. Activation of the RFK campus through this deal is expected to create approximately 14,000 jobs in connection to the stadium construction alone, and 2,000 permanent jobs. The stadium and surrounding development are anticipated to create approximately $4 billion in total tax revenue, and yield more than $15.6 billion in direct spending over 30 years.

The District has a successful history of using catalytic sports investments to transform underutilized spaces into vibrant neighborhoods, including in Chinatown-Gallery Place with Capital One Arena (originally the MCI Center); Capitol Riverfront with Nationals Park; and St. Elizabeths East with the CareFirst Arena (originally the Entertainment and Sports Arena) in the past decade. During her time in elected office, the mayor has worked on successful deals for Audi Field, the CareFirst Arena, the renovation of Capital One Arena, and now this partnership with the Washington Commanders.

Again, Mendelson will have some good ideas that he will want to negotiate into the agreement as it moves through the Council. But the overall positive impact of this deal on the District’s economy will win the day. He, and many Council members, understand major sports are a significant driver of the District’s new economy, generating $5 billion in 2022 and attracting 7.4 million visitors in 2023. The fact is D.C.’s sports teams and their facilities have boosted neighborhood investment, with nearby commercial development outpacing the rest of the city, after each facility opened. 

This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal for D.C. I urge everyone to contact your Council member, and tell them to vote yes.


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

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