Local
Will the Slowe-Burrill House become a National Landmark?
Process raises questions about what constitutes LGBTQ history

On Oct. 5, 2020, the Slowe-Burrill House was put on the National Register for Historic Places for its association with Lucy Diggs Slowe, most recognized for her work as the first Dean of Women at Howard University, where she served from 1922 until her death in 1937.
Even before her appointment at Howard, she boasted an extraordinary vitae. As an undergraduate at Howard, she was a founding member of the first sorority for African-American women. After graduating valedictorian of her class, and earning her master’s at Columbia University, Slowe took a position teaching at the Armstrong Manual High School in D.C., where she so impressed the school board that they appointed her to found the first-ever junior high school for African Americans in the national capital region.
As Tamara Beauboeuf-Lafontant describes in her book-length study of Slowe’s deanship, “To Live More Abundantly,” Slowe’s tenure at Howard was defined by her advocacy for what she called the “New Howard Woman” in her inaugural address to the students, a woman who was “of extreme culture and refinement.” She worked tirelessly, often at odds with the administration, to encourage the women of Howard to pursue the social sciences, not just the liberal arts thought to befit future mothers, and to explore careers outside of teaching, which was, as Slowe described, “the only occupation which is open to them with few handicaps.” Slowe was unsatisfied with the absence of women’s housing on campus, which she argued was necessary as a “laboratory for practical education in human relationships,” and orchestrated funding from Congress to build three new dormitories for a Women’s Campus. Slowe was so successful in her projects that, as one student reported, “we spoke among ourselves of our dean, not as Dean Slowe but as Dean Swift.”
Given Slowe’s remarkable life, and the National Park Service’s registration of her house as a historic site in recognition of that life, one would be forgiven for wondering why the site is titled the “Slowe-Burrill House” after both Slowe and her life partner, Mary Burrill. While the National Register nods to Burrill’s career as a teacher and playwright, it makes clear her historical significance is primarily as Slowe’s partner. The title of the site is less in recognition of Burrill herself than of Slowe and Burrill’s same-sex relationship at a time in which it would have been especially risky for a public figure like Slowe. While Slowe and Burrill were able to frame their partnership within 19th century ideals of romantic friendship, those ideals were coming under increasing scrutiny by the 20th century, which saw the pathologizing of women’s intimate relationships in the growing medical discourse around sexuality.
Now the Slowe-Burrill House is up for nomination as a National Landmark at the next meeting of the National Historic Landmark Committee this spring. Dr. Susan Ferentinos, a specialist in LGBTQ public history, was contacted by the National Park Service back in 2016 to help identify potential landmarks related to LGBTQ history. Ferentinos noticed there was a particular absence of LGBTQ landmarks in D.C., and put together a shortlist of sites including the Slowe-Burrill House. Ferentinos has been working through that list since, most recently preparing a national landmark nomination for the Furies Collective, which the Blade reported on in November.
But the bar for a National Historic Landmark is far higher than for the National Register of Historic Places. Only 3% of items on the National Register earn a further designation as a National Historic Landmark, and the priority for federal funding that goes with it. Will the Slowe-Burrill House meet that higher bar?
One way a site gets approved is by association with a nationally significant figure, and Lucy Diggs Slowe certainly has the national standing required. As Dean of Women, her work extended far beyond the campus of Howard University. Slowe established the National Association of College Women, an alumnae organization for Black women college graduates across the country. Under her leadership, the organization raised money to help young Black women attend college, worked to institutionalize gender equity in higher education, and led initiatives to foster interracial understanding with white college alumnae. Slowe was the first Black member of the National Association of Deans of Women, where she endlessly fielded her white peers’ concerns with racial matters on campus. And Slowe served on the national board of Young Women’s Christian Association, which gave her the connections she needed to go on a cross-country tour of colleges to talk about race relations among college women.
But if Slowe’s impact on women’s and African-American history on a national level is undoubtable, things are less clear when it comes to her mark on LGBTQ history. Slowe’s relationship with Burrill was a private matter, and not one she sought to advertise on the national stage. If Slowe’s house becomes a national landmark, will it still be as the Slowe-Burrill House? Or just the Slowe House?
That question arose early in Ferentinos’s work with Kathryn Smith, the National Historic Landmarks Coordinator for the Capital Region. On an early draft for the nomination, Dr. Ferentinos got the feedback that perhaps Slowe wasn’t really a national figure in LGBTQ history, and that they should be focusing on other criteria of national significance. But Ferentinos, who made it clear she does not speak for the National Park Service, vehemently disagreed. “I said to [Kathryn Smith], I feel so strongly that this property is significant to LGBTQ history. What this feedback is telling me is that I haven’t done a good enough job yet. I’m willing to do a couple extra rounds of revision … in order to do this right because it is really important.”
As Dr. Ferentinos sees it, LGBTQ history is often simply figured as a history of political activism, which excludes the huge number of folks who managed to carve out a professional life while leading a life as LGBTQ, however private it may have been. And if she’s ever going to get a chance to nominate someone who represents this broader vision of LGBTQ history, it’s Slowe.
It is well known that at the end of her career, Slowe had a protracted fight with the president of Howard University, Mordecai Johnson. Despite having arranged in her contract to live off-campus, as all male deans did, Johnson was intent on forcing Slowe to live on campus, so that she could better supervise the students — and from a shanty next to the college dump. Slowe fought Johnson to defend her contract right up until her death. While Slowe was dying from pneumonia in her bed, instead of appointing an interim dean, Johnson issued her an ultimatum: report to work or be replaced. Burrill refused to answer the demand, and a replacement was named. Slowe died a month later, on Oct. 21, 1937.
As Beauboeuf-Lafontant describes it in her book, this story is yet another example of Slowe’s fight for gender equality, to have the rights and privileges afforded to male deans. But while Beauboeuf-Lafontant makes no mention of the role Slowe’s relationship with Burrill played in this tale, Ferentinos thinks it was a central factor. “There are memos that could seem very innocent [to] a historian who is not trained in LGBTQ history,” Ferentinos explained. There would be a memo, for instance, asking Slowe to give an account of the financial hardship the move would cause her. “It could seem like a bureaucratic crossing of Ts,” Ferentinos said. “Or it could be read as calling her bluff. It wouldn’t cause her a financial hardship, it would cause her partner a financial hardship.”
Kathryn Smith reported being satisfied with Ferentinos’s revisions of the nomination, but was cautious about predicting whether or not they would succeed. “We are supportive of the arguments she’s making, but it will ultimately be up to the NHL [National Historic Landmark] committee to determine and to make the recommendation as to whether this argument will stand.” At stake here is more than just Slowe. Is LGBTQ history just the history of figures who publicly advocated the rights of queer people? Or is it also the history of those who worked to build whatever life they could, no matter how private they kept it?
(CJ Higgins is a postdoctoral fellow with the Alexander Grass Humanities Institute at Johns Hopkins University.)
District of Columbia
GenOUT Chorus offers solace, strength to LGBTQ teens
Summer camp held from June 23-27

As Pride month draws to a close and Washington begins to take down its rainbow flags and WorldPride decorations, it can be easy to confine the ideas of LGBTQ liberation to June. One historic organization in Washington has been speaking out — or singing out if you will — to ensure that LGBTQ youth are allowed to explore and be themselves every month of the year.
The Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington is one of the oldest and largest LGBTQ choruses in the world. With more than 300 members and more than 40 years in the D.C. LGBTQ community, to say it is an institution would be an understatement.
Beginning in 1981, following an inspiring performance by the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus at the Kennedy Center, a group of 18 gay men — led by a “straight” woman and friend of Washington’s gay community, Marsha Pearson — created the GMCW. Since its establishment the organization has only grown in number and relevance within the city. From hosting multiple concerts a year, international equality trips, and creating a dedicated space to “inspire equality and inclusion with musical performances and education,” the GMCW is one of the cornerstone organizations in the Washington LGBTQ community.
One of the most remarkable parts of the GMCW is its youth outreach program and choir: GenOUT. The outreach ensemble specializes in providing a space for Washington’s LGBTQ and allied youth, ages 13-18, to find their voice through song and connect that voice to community. The GenOUT program has been around since 2001, and since 2015 has provided a platform for their voices to be heard — literally — making it the first LGBTQ youth chorus in the Washington area.
The Washington Blade sat down with GenOUT Director C. Paul Heins and member Ailsa Ostovitz to discuss why GenOUT, and more specifically the GenOUT summer camp, which was held from June 23-27, has become an essential space for LGBTQ youth in the D.C. area to find their voice amid less-than-supportive administration and rising anti-LGBTQ rhetoric in the nation.
“This is my 11th season with GenOUT, and also the 11th season with Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington,” Heins said when explaining how he ended up in the director role for the self-selected, no audition required youth outreach ensemble. “I was hired in August of 2014 to start GenOUT. I spent that first fall researching other choruses, figuring out the infrastructure, promoting the chorus, and building relationships with schools, organizations, and faith communities. And then we started in January of 2015 with nine brave singers and since then, we’ve had 150+ singers from 80 or more schools in the DMV participate.”
Ailsa Ostovitz, on the other hand, being in high school had not had as much experience with choirs — yet her commitment and unwavering passion for the work she — and the other performers within GenOUT provide to each other was unmistakable.
“I’ve been a part of the course since April of 2022, and that was like seventh grade— which is wild to think about,” Ostovitz said when reflecting on how long she had been a part of GenOUT. She explained how she had begun to develop a drive for filling leadership roles within GenOUT after gaining valuable experiences and education from the organization.
“This is my first year in leadership,” she added. “The rest of the years, I kind of hung back. I really wanted to — especially last season — kind of put myself in the position of a peer and think ‘What would I want from people that are supposed to represent me to the adults? What would I want out of that?’”
And with those questions in mind, Ostovitz explained she buckled down and worked hard to get to where she is now as a member of the leadership team within the GenOUT choir.
“I spent a lot of time working with my section leader, and, looking up at him and being like, ‘What are you doing now that I can do in the future?’ And so this year, I ran for leadership,” Ostovitz said. “I got section leader, and that was cool. I’ve just spent a lot of time — most of my time in this course — learning leadership skills to kind of help me in all sorts of things in life, because I like to take control of things, and I like doing stuff.”
These leadership skills are just a handful of the things that students like Ostovitz learn while participating in the program. This year’s theme was “Make Them Hear Us!: Empowering LGBTQ+ and Allied Youth Through Music, Media, and Community,” and provided multiple opportunities for GenOUT’s members to engage with new concepts, ideas, and experiences.
From field trips to mentoring opportunities to an end-of-camp performance, it becomes clear when speaking to those familiar with the GenOUT experience: it is not your traditional summer day camp.
“The title of the camp references the anthem that GMCW has sung for many years,” Heins said. “‘Make Them Hear You’ from the musical ‘Ragtime’ encourages us to share important stories — stories that honor the fights that we’ve been fighting, the rights that we have won, affirmations that we seek for every human being, and the focus on media — specifically developing young people’s understandings of the kinds of media that they can access and use to share their voice.”
The camp offers singing and dancing lessons, creative writing exercises, LGBTQ+ history lessons, and open discussions about identity — providing an outlet for students to figure out who they want to be and find their voice.
“What this camp does, I believe, is it helps foster young people’s voices and not only encourages them to speak, but to give them the skills to speak in a way that will be heard meaningfully,” Heins added. “I have noted that youth in queer choruses like GenOUT have said that singing in a chorus allows young people to express themselves more honestly and with greater passion than other forms of expression. They’ve also said that singing with others that understand you on a very deep, profound level, makes the expression much easier and more beautiful. I think that experience is what really makes this a special opportunity for young, LGBTQ and allied people.”
Ostovitz echoed Heins’s sentiment, emphasizing that the space GenOUT provides allows her to feel empowered in ways more than by creating leadership skills that will help her later in life. GenOUT has allowed for her to see the humanity and similarities LGBTQ youth all face in a straight world.
“Joining the chorus and being in this camp, it really gives people a chance to see that every person is going through the same experience you are, on a level of finding your own identity and being confident in that,” Ostovitz said. “It really, really serves a purpose by showing there are still queer people. They’re not fizzling out — young people are queer. We want to use our voices to express what we feel and how things are affecting us, and I think that using music to do that is probably one of the most powerful ways to do that.”
In addition to allowing for internal growth and honing their singing abilities, both Ostovitz and Heins pointed out the other valuable skills students learn while in the GenOUT program. Ostovitz explicitly highlighted the mentorship program GenOUT has with GMCW, and how it has helped students like her figure out their future.
“Because we are so connected with GMCW, we run a mentorship program where, if you want to explore career, identity, whatever, we can connect you with somebody from GMCW,” Ostovitz said. “You get to spend a whole semester with a person working on your voice or your career or your what you want to do in higher education. It’s not only for things related to your queer identity, but it’s also just for life. It’s really cool.”
This year’s theme, centering around media and the many ways people can share their voice, was highlighted through the camp’s field trips to two legacy media organizations — WAMU and NBC Washington — and a discussion with staff from the Washington Blade, including Publisher Lynne Brown and International News Editor Michael K. Lavers.
“GenOUT provides a chance to get to know people from all around this area, but it also connects you to older folks, It connects you to people from the past, as well as we learn about LGBTQ history,” Heins said. “I think a camp specific thing is we want young people to understand how they can share their stories beyond just talking to their friends. There are these forms of media that are out there to share your stories, to have your voices heard, and to have a sense that these media are there for everyone. It’s not just a thing for people aged 21 and over. That was something that Lynne and Michael from the Blade were sharing with; that anyone can write in a letter to the editor. It doesn’t mean it’s going to be published, but that anyone has that opportunity. And I think that’s a great way for them to say the Blade is open to you to share your voice.”
The concept that there are people who want to, or may need to hear queer voices represented is one that is not lost on Ostovitz.
“There is something Thea says that has kind of integrated into our chorus — that someone out there needed to hear you, needed to hear your voice, needed to hear your story,” Ostovitz said. “That’s something that I kind of live by in this chorus, where I’m like, ‘I believe that there is someone out there that needed to hear this song for whatever reason, whatever it did for them. And I’m hoping to learn how much more can this chorus do for not just our little community, but how much more can it do around the world or the country — especially now.”
Living in the political center of the U.S., Ostovitz explained, has impacted how she approaches her identity, her education, and the urgency of using her voice — both as a student and as a young queer person navigating an increasingly hostile national climate.
“Being so close to the political center of the country and also a student at the same time has not been the easiest thing in the world as of late,” she said. “You’re thinking a lot about ‘Oh, I wonder if this program in my school will still exist next year,’ because a lot of the funding for physics and science programs in general has been cut. So I’m fortunate enough that Maryland has been pretty good about going against this administration. And so being in this chorus gives me a second to step back from my academics and just go somewhere for the two hours of rehearsal.”
For Ostovitz, just having those two short hours a week to focus on music — without thinking about the political climate that paints her and her choir peers as nefarious for being LGBTQ — provides solace.
“Everybody else is going through the same thing as I am, but we’re all also working towards the same goal, which is acceptance and uplifting of everybody and everyone — no matter who they are,” she said. “It kind of settles you down and grounds you. And then you just make music with people, and it’s really like a stress reducer for me.”
“Is it too trite to say that that would make people feel less alone, knowing that it’s not just a DMV thing, but that there are queer people all over?” Heins asked Ostovitz.
“No, it’s not — for sure,” Ostovitz responded. “It was a bit eye-opening.”
“A lot of us are fortunate enough to have families that support us enough to trust us and help us be passionate and mean what we do with the work that we do in this chorus — because it is optional,” Ostovitz added. “It is optional to have the courage that we have to practice and commit as much as we do, and the fact that we have a whole organization backing us on that is pretty cool.”
“We often say that we sing for those who can’t sing in a chorus like ours,” Heins said. “We sing for people who don’t have the freedom or the option to live their authentic lives. I think that’s very powerful.”
“It’s a very unique experience to be surrounded by so many people that get it,” Ostovitz said. “It’s a very joyful experience when we perform our big shows at the Lincoln Theater, being part of that production is also a very unique experience. So I think everything about this chorus is very joyfully unique.”
“I feel very proud, and I feel very inspired,” Heins said. “I feel inspired by the young voices. I feel a sense of inspiration in my own music-making, when I am able to take a piece from its very beginning all the way to the stage in a polished form. And I feel that sense of pride in knowing that I’ve helped this group of young people develop their confidence to do really amazing things.”
“GenOUT sang 22 times last year, which for any chorus is a big deal, but for a youth chorus coming from thither and yon, it is really a big deal,” Heins added. “I’m just really inspired and proud, and know that when I am in a nursing home somewhere and these folks are still out working and I know the country will be in good hands.”
Virginia
Walkinshaw wins Democratic primary in Va. 11th Congressional District
Special election winner will succeed Gerry Connolly

On Saturday, Fairfax County Supervisor James Walkinshaw won the Democratic primary for the special election that will determine who will represent Virginia’s 11th Congressional District.
The special election is being held following the death of the late Congressman Gerry Connolly, who represented the district from 2008 until 2024, when he announced his retirement, and subsequently passed away from cancer in May.
Walkinshaw is not unknown to Virginia’s 11th District — he has served on the Fairfax County Board of Supervisors since 2020 and had served as Connolly’s chief of staff from 2009 to 2019. Before he passed away, Connolly had endorsed Walkinshaw to take his place, claiming that choosing Walkinshaw to be his chief of staff was “one of the best decisions I ever made.”
The Democratic nominee has run his campaign on mitigating Trump’s “dangerous” agenda of dismantling the federal bureaucracy, which in the district is a major issue as many of the district’s residents are federal employees and contractors.
“I’m honored and humbled to have earned the Democratic nomination for the district I’ve spent my career serving,” Walkinshaw said on X. “This victory was powered by neighbors, volunteers, and supporters who believe in protecting our democracy, defending our freedoms, and delivering for working families.”
In addition to protecting federal workers, Walkinshaw has a long list of progressive priorities — some of which include creating affordable housing, reducing gun violence, expanding immigrant protections, and “advancing equality for all” by adding sexual orientation and gender identity to the Fair Housing Act.
Various democratic PACs contributed more than $2 million to Walkinshaw’s ad campaigns, much of which touted his connection to Connolly.
Walkinshaw will face Republican Stewart Whitson in the special election in September, where he is the likely favorite to win.
Maryland
LGBTQ suicide prevention hotline option is going away. Here’s where else to go in Md.
Changes will take effect July 17

By ANNA RUBENSTEIN | The national suicide prevention hotline will no longer offer specialized support to LGBTQ people, starting July 17, the Trump administration announced last week.
Dialing the hotline at 988 will still be available for crisis support. But callers will no longer be able to reach specific LGBTQ services by pressing Option 3. The change worries advocates because their data shows the LGBTQ community has a disproportionally high suicide rate.
Even after the option ends, here’s how to receive tailored support if you’re in Maryland.
The rest of this article can be found on the Baltimore Banner’s website.
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