Politics
Pete Buttigieg, eyeing a presidential run, holds Iowa town hall
Former DOT secretary defended trans rights
After acknowledging during an interview on Tuesday that he is considering a bid for the White House in 2028, Pete Buttigieg stepped onto a stage in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, for a 45-minute town hall where he looked and sounded very much a candidate launching his presidential campaign.
The former U.S. Transportation Secretary warned that “we are being tested on nothing less” than the strength of America’s commitments to freedom and democracy over the next four years of President Donald Trump’s second term.
Rather than “hang back” while those in power “screw up,” he said now is the time to advance and articulate an agenda charting a new path forward for the country, including by restoring access to abortion and better addressing the challenges and meeting the needs of the nation’s veterans and with their families and communities.
As Democrats work to rebuild with an eye toward retaking control of the White House and both chambers of Congress, the party has wrestled with questions of whether and to what extent last year’s electoral defeat may have been attributable to the adoption of policy positions that were unpopular or out of step with views held by key parts of the electorate.
Buttigieg on Tuesday stressed the importance of identifying which parts of the platform should be revisited, the areas in which a greater diversity of viewpoints should be tolerated and welcomed into the Democratic coalition, and when to provide room for disagreement and debate.
As an example, he took the matter of whether and in which circumstances athletes should be allowed to compete on sports teams that are consistent with their gender identity but inconsistent with their birth sex.
“I think we do need to revisit some of the things that we have had to say policy-wise that haven’t kept up with the times as a party,” he said, adding, “Americans may have questions about how to make sure sports are safe and fair, which I get.”
At the same time, “that doesn’t ever mean throwing vulnerable people under the bus,” Buttigieg said — and not just because that would be wrong, but also because it’s bad politics for Democrats.
For example, “Americans understand that your gender identity shouldn’t affect whether you get to vote,” Buttigieg said, referencing policies passed by conservative lawmakers in Iowa and several other states that would render voters ineligible to cast their ballots in cases where there are discrepancies in the information listed on their official documents, records, and government-issued IDs. The rules are expected to disproportionately impact transgender people who are far likelier than their cisgender counterparts to have updated the gender markers and names listed on their driver’s licenses, for example.
Buttigieg, a decorated U.S. Navy Reserve officer who was deployed to Afghanistan, also raised an example of unpopular anti-trans policymaking, the Trump-Vance administration’s ban on military service by trans soldiers: “Americans understand,” he said, “that if you are, for example, a soldier who is doing a good job, who is getting good ratings from commander who is contributing to the readiness of this mission, who is ready to put their life on the line, who happens to be transgender, you ought to be honored and not kicked out of the military.”
The line drew applause from attendees, who included a number of veterans including members and staff from VoteVets, the progressive advocacy group that organized the town hall.
Also in attendance on Tuesday were supporters who wore official merchandise from Buttigieg’s 2020 run, which began with his surprise first-place finish in the Iowa Democratic presidential caucuses ahead of then-former Vice President Joe Biden and U.S. Sens. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.), Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) — a transformational moment for the openly gay former mayor of South Bend, Ind., who thereafter emerged as a rising star in his party and quickly become a formidable force in American politics on the national stage.
Many elected officials and other influential stakeholders within the Democratic Party now consider Buttigieg the strongest or one of the strongest of its communicators. His name has often been floated as a strong choice to lead the ticket as the Democratic presidential nominee.And he seems well positioned for a run in 2028. Even so, this far in advance of the election candidates are more circumspect about discussing their plans or their thinking about a bid for the White House so far in advance of the election.
However, Trump’s second administration and the new Congress led in both chambers by Republican loyalists seems to have prompted a number of other top Democrats to dispense with the coquettishness. A report in Politico notes that Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear, Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro, former Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel, and former U.S. Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo have recently either made overtures signaling they are considering a run or declined opportunities to deny it.
Congress
Bill seeks to block global gag rule expansion
Policy now bans US foreign aid to groups promoting ‘gender ideology’
Lawmakers on Wednesday introduced a bill that would block the expansion of the global gag rule.
President Ronald Reagan in 1985 implemented the global gag rule, also known as the “Mexico City” policy, which bans U.S. foreign aid for groups that support abortion and/or offer abortion-related services.
Trump reinstated the rule during his first administration. The Biden-Harris administration shortly after it took office in 2021 rescinded it.
The Trump-Vance administration earlier this year expanded the global gag rule to ban U.S. foreign aid for groups that promote “gender ideology.” The expansion took effect on Feb. 26.
U.S. Sens. Jeanne Shaheen (D-N.H.) and Jacky Rosen (D-Nev.) introduced the Protecting Human Rights and Public Health in Foreign Assistance Act in the U.S. Senate. U.S. Reps. Grace Meng (D-N.Y.), Lois Frankel (D-Fla.), Diana DeGette (D-Colo.), Pramila Jayapal (D-Wash.), Sara Jacobs (D-Calif.), and Gregory Meeks (D-N.Y.) introduced it in the U.S. House of Representatives.
“Using taxpayer money to export the Trump administration’s anti-trans, anti-science, and anti-abortion ideological agenda isn’t just immoral — it’s antithetical to efficient, effective, and rights-based foreign assistance,” said Council for Global Equality Senior Policy Fellow Beirne Roose-Snyder on Wednesday in a press release.
Meng added the Trump-Vance administration’s “crusade against healthcare and global aid is putting millions of lives at risk worldwide.”
“No one will flourish under the new expanded global gag rule,” said the New York Democrat. “These policies weaponize foreign aid and will result in greater harm, particularly for women and girls, marginalized communities, and LGBTQI+ individuals.”
“They should never have been implemented at all, let alone without even a basic public comment process,” she added. “This legislation will reverse these dangerous policies.”
The White House
From red carpet to chaos: A first-person narrative of the WHCD shooting
The Blade’s WH correspondent Joe Reberkenny recounts his night at the WHCD after a shooter attempted to gain entry.
It started as any White House Correspondents’ Dinner is supposed to go—I assume. I’ve never been to one before this, but based on other events I’ve attended at the Hilton, including an HRC gala, it all seemed fairly normal.
There was a lot of traffic. Police had blocked off streets encompassing a large portion of Adams Morgan—particularly around the hotel. The president was making his first appearance after boycotting the event during his first term, so there was a sense of anticipation. It took me about 45 minutes to go just under a mile from my apartment to about three blocks from the hotel in my Uber. I waited until the last possible second before I felt like I was going to be late—6:30—to get out of the car, because it was raining and I was wearing my green tux.
I walked up to a group of people checking tickets at the base of the hotel. They seemed to just be glancing at the tiny, index-card-sized tickets rather than conducting any kind of full security screening outside. As I walked from that first checkpoint to the drive-around drop-off area, I joined what was essentially one long line for the red carpet. It eventually split into people who wanted photos and those who didn’t—but again, there was no real need to show anything beyond that small ticket upon entering, and even that wasn’t being checked closely.
A light went off in my head; I felt that, given the speed at which security was checking tickets, they couldn’t fully see the foil logo and tiny table numbers from that distance. I remember thinking that if I had a similarly sized piece of paper, I could have gotten through up to that point.
I also noticed there was no real security checkpoint or metal detectors upon initially entering the hotel grounds—unlike what I had seen at the HRC gala the year before.
I waited about 35 minutes in line in the car drop-off area—without cars, since it had been repurposed to corral press and their guests before entering the building and heading onto the red carpet. I took my photo, then went up the escalator to meet my date, Jacob Bernard from Democracy Forward. They wouldn’t let him onto the red carpet without his ticket, so I gave him his, which I had been holding. He was already inside the venue despite not having his ticket on him and had been at one of the pre-parties.
That also struck me as odd—that you could access a pre-dinner party without a ticket or going through any visible security.
After I found him, we took a photo together at a step-and-repeat past the main red carpet area around 7:45. Oddly enough, a group of my friends—gays who I regularly see on the dance floors of the gay bars of Washington, who work in various government and media-adjacent fields—found me, and we took pictures together. None were White House correspondents or held a “hard pass” to the White House (security credentials that allow entry into the White House complex).
Another light went off in my head that indicated party crashers probably shouldn’t be getting inside to an event that is supposed to be one of the most secure rooms in the country.
After the photos, I could see groups of people being moved from pre-party spaces in various meeting rooms on other floors and directed toward the main floor where the red carpet had been.
My guest and I went back up to the main floor and walked through a small security checkpoint that included only a handful of metal detectors. From there, I went down the stairs from the lobby into the International Ballroom, where we took our seats at Table 200. I talked to a few people I knew—very traditional pre-event chit-chat. The vibes felt good. It was my first time attending, and I was genuinely excited.
Around 8:15, the Marine Corps Band played and “Commandant’s Four” color guard presented the flags. We were then told to take our seats.
They introduced the head table—the president, first lady, vice president, and members of the White House Correspondents’ Association board. Weijia Jiang, senior White House correspondent for CBS News and president of the WHCA, gave a brief speech, essentially saying we would eat first and then move into the main program, which was supposed to feature mentalist Oz Pearlman.
At this point my table, 200 which included members of the Wall Street Journal, the Blade, and a European outlet all started eating. About 15 minutes later, Washington Hilton staff began clearing plates and preparing to bring out the next course.
As they cleared the plates, I heard four loud bangs.
I saw hotel employees immediately start ducking. They seemed to understand the gravity of the situation much faster than most attendees, including myself. At first, it sounded like a tray might have fallen over (but I later found out that wasn’t the case).
After about 30 seconds of watching some people duck, others look around in confusion, and some continue eating and drinking, I got down. I kneeled with my chair in front of me as a kind of barrier. Being at Table 200, I felt somewhat removed from where the actual incident occurred.
Then I saw the president being whisked away quickly by Secret Service, along with the first lady and others at the head table.
My reporter instincts kicked in. I grabbed my phone and started filming. I saw SWAT team members rush into the ballroom and onto the stage, clearing the area. I captured a video of people looking around, confused about what had just happened.
A few minutes later, the room was told by the WHCA president to hold on—that they would provide more information and guidance on what would happen next. There was some indication that they might try to continue the event despite what had occurred.
Everyone started frantically checking X to see if any major outlets were reporting. I was receiving texts from family, friends, and colleagues about the rapidly unfolding situation.
I walked to the bathroom—twice, technically. I couldn’t find it initially because it was hidden behind black curtains. (Later, those curtains were removed, and the men’s room was in clearer view.)
During the first walk to the bathroom, I called my editor to tell him what was happening. He instructed me to start sending copy to another editor, who would get it online. The ballroom had almost no service—it’s in the basement of a 12-story hotel—so it was a challenge. I utilized SMS fallback (since iMessage wasn’t working) to send updates.
I returned to the table, where people were still hovering—calling editors, scrolling, texting, sending photos and copy. I was already drafting my story and sending it in chunks, adding details as I gathered more information.
I walked my guest toward the bathroom again, which was on the opposite side of the ballroom from our table, so I had to cross what felt like a sea of journalists, PR officials, guests, and others on their phones, talking and scrolling. My guest pointed out that the press pool was being held in an alcove away from the ballroom doors and escalator exit—not in the ballroom with everyone else.
“Alive” by the Bee Gees was playing over the speakers in the bathroom, which felt a little too on the nose.
On my way out, I heard someone speaking over a microphone and rushed to the ballroom entrance. WHCA President Weijia Jiang was speaking. She announced that the event was over and the space was being evacuated.
She also said that President Trump would hold a press conference at the White House in about 25 minutes.
That’s when I knew it was a race against the clock.
I called my editor a second time to update him and asked if I should head to the briefing (knowing the answer would be yes). He confirmed.
Then the crowd began to move. People grabbed purses, bottles—some left belongings behind. Even though it was technically becoming a crime scene, no one was actively forcing us out. It felt more like a collective understanding: It was time to go.
I texted my guest: “OK, I have to go to the White House. I’m so sorry to leave you.”
I made my way with the sea of people toward the one exit we were allowed to use and zipped between women in fancy gowns and men looking like penguins.
I put on my hard press pass, opened the Capital Bikeshare app, reserved the closest e-bike, and headed out.
I walked up Columbia Road to 20th and Wyoming, grabbed the bike, and rode down Wyoming, then 18th, cut over to U Street, and went straight down 16th to the White House. That ride was exhilarating. I also filmed an Instagram Reel updating my followers on what was going on. I could see tourists and D.C. residents alike looking at me from their cars and the sidewalk, obviously confused as to why a man dressed in a tux had hopped on a bike.
I got off the bike where 16th Street meets Lafayette Square and darted toward the first White House security checkpoint, where they were verifying press credentials. Luckily, I had mine. After that, it turned into a mad dash. Everyone who made it through started moving quickly.
The sound of heels on what I think was cobblestone—or maybe brick—sticks with me. My own shoes were clacking as I ran toward the White House alongside other journalists in heels and dress shoes.
At the Secret Service checkpoint, there was a separate line for hard pass holders. Having my hard pass let me skip much of the impeccably dressed line of journalists who didn’t think to bring their hard pass with them.
It was probably the most exquisitely dressed press crowd I’ve ever seen—tuxedos, gowns, full makeup. It felt like something out of “The Hunger Games.”
I went through security, put my belongings through the metal detector, entered my code, grabbed my things, and ran to the briefing room.
The White House
Grindr to host first-ever White House Correspondents’ Dinner party
App’s head of global government affairs a long-time GOP-aligned lobbyist
Gay dating and hookup app Grindr will host its first-ever White House Correspondents’ Weekend party on April 24.
The event is scheduled for the night before the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, an annual gathering meant to celebrate the First Amendment, honor journalism, and raise money for scholarships.
The White House Correspondents’ Dinner is organized by the White House Correspondents’ Association, a group of journalists who regularly cover the president and the administration.
An invitation obtained by the Washington Blade’s Joe Reberkenny and Michael K. Lavers reads:
“We’d be thrilled to have you join us at Grindr’s inaugural White House Correspondents’ Dinner Weekend Party, a Friday evening gathering to bring together policymakers, journalists, and LGBTQ community leaders as we toast the First Amendment.”
The Blade requested an interview with Joe Hack, Grindr’s head of global government affairs, but was unable to reach him via phone or Zoom. He did, however, provide a statement shared with other outlets, offering limited explanation for why the company decided 2026 was the year for the app to host this event.
“Grindr represents a global community with real stakes in Washington. The issues being debated here — HIV funding, digital privacy, LGBTQ+ human rights — are daily life for our community. Nobody does connections like Grindr, and WHCD weekend is the most iconic place in the country to make them. We figured it was time to host.”
Hack said the company has been “well received” by lawmakers in both parties and has found “common ground” on issues such as HIV funding and keeping minors off the app. He credited longstanding relationships in Washington and what he described as Grindr’s “respectful” approach to lobbying.
Hack, a longtime Republican-aligned lobbyist, previously worked for several GOP lawmakers, including U.S. Sens. Deb Fischer (R-Neb.), Jon Kyl (R-Ariz.), George Voinovich (R-Ohio), Bill Frist (R-Tenn.), and U.S. Rep. Randy Forbes (R-Va.).
According to congressional disclosure forms compiled by OpenSecrets, Grindr spent $1.3 million on lobbying in 2025— more than Tinder and Hinge’s parent company Match Group.
“This is going to be elevated Grindr,” Hack told TheWrap when describing the invite-only party that has already generated buzz on social media. “This isn’t going to be a bunch of shirtless men walking around. This is going to be very elevated, elegant, but still us.”
He also pointed to the company’s work on HIV-related initiatives, including efforts to maintain federal funding for healthcare partners that distribute HIV self-testing kits through the app.
The event comes at a particularly notable moment for an LGBTQ-focused connection platform to enter the Washington social circuit at a high-profile political weekend, as LGBTQ rights remain under constant attack from conservative lawmakers, particularly around transgender healthcare, sports participation, and public accommodations.
Key West Pride’s state funding pulled
DOE investigates Smith College’s trans-inclusive policy
A reign defined by commitment and human impact
Ukrainian MPs advance new Civil Code without protections for same-sex couples
Gay ICE detainee freed after 150 days in detention
Republicans attach five anti-LGBTQ riders to State Department funding bill
Tennessee’s trans data bill a frightening omen
The university that refuses to let go
Calendar: May 1-7
