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Faith leaders celebrate WorldPride at interfaith service

‘God is Gay’

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(Blade file photo by Michael Key)

Earlier this month, 250 people from faith communities across the D.C. area gathered at All Souls Church Unitarian Washington, D.C., to celebrate the 42nd Pride Interfaith Service titled “Woven with Faith and Power.” More than 200 people joined the livestreamed service. From the pulpit hung a Pride progress flag and behind it, a collection of rainbow tulle fabric matching the scarves that I and others waved up and down the aisle as a Maypole celebration for the pagan community. All Souls choir members were dressed in colors that created a rainbow when they sang in formation, and clergy of all religions were decked out in rainbow stoles and vestments. 

Attendees were welcomed by the Umoja Dono and Waimbaji drummers, followed by a procession of faith leaders as the choir sang “Step by Step, the Longest March.” It was one of the largest gatherings of faith leaders I had ever seen, from Druid clergy and Hedge priests to rabbis and imams to Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

The church was packed with singers, drummers, the DC Peace Team, and members of the public that had come to sing and celebrate interfaith solidarity during WorldPride. The location and history of the event was especially significant. It was on the All Souls chancel that the right for marriage equality was enshrined in Washington, D.C., back in 2009. But the history of the Pride Interfaith Service is much older, dating back to a day-long prayer vigil held in conjunction with the display of the AIDS quilt during DC Pride in 1985. 

The vigil was organized by the Washington Area Gay and Lesbian Interfaith Alliance (WAGLIA). In the mid-2010s, WAGLIA changed its name to the Celebration of the Spirit Coalition and later, Center Faith, which strives to promote religious pluralism and interfaith collaboration by hosting events like the annual Pride Interfaith Service that gathers together its partner organizations from a variety of faith traditions, including Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist, Unitarian Universalist, Mennonite, Brethren, Centers for Spiritual Living, Radical Faeries, Pagan, Wiccan, and Earth Religions. 

As Rev. Darryl! LD Moch, Pastor at United Church of Christ (UCC) of Fredericksburg and Jonah Richardson from Adas Israel Congregation welcomed people to “continue this work of gathering, uniting in faith, and standing together as we work to weave a better world,” the latter acknowledged this rich history of queer interfaith activism in DC. I was fortunate to stand in for this rich history and speak truth to power in remembering that queer interfaith work, just like the queer community itself, has a long and sacred history. This is my third year serving as the historian for the Pride Interfaith Service. 

At the time during the HIV/AIDS crisis, and today with the rise of Christian nationalism, Rev. Carmarion D. Anderson-Harvey of the United Church of Christ said that recognizing this history has never been more important. Our communities are under attack. 

Many loved ones have been lost to HIV/AIDS, to queerphobic violence, and to old age, including Allan Armus who organized that first prayer vigil with representatives of nine different faiths back in 1985: Joe Pomper, Daniel FL Hays, Christian Yoder, Joe Sophos, Rev. Elder Robert Vanzant ThD, Bishop Yao Kwabena Rainey Cheeks, Charles Redden Butler Neto III, and Imam Daaiyee Abdullah. And so the service called out to and welcomed in these ancestors “who fought and won many of the rights we are afforded with us today,” Rev Dr. Wallace R. Henry III of Inner Light Ministry UCC said during the ancestor libation. 

Their wisdom is invaluable but so too, Tahil Sharma, faith director at the National LGBTQ+ Task Force, said, is reaching out to and involving young people in this work. Sharma urged that the question “Where are the young people? should be carved into the first steps of every sacred space that has asked me that question.” Sharma urged faith leaders present not to gatekeep leadership or decision-making but to invite in young people to carry on the legacy of interfaith advocacy, and for young people to know the history of faith within queer communities. 

Later in the service, Ebony C. Peace, a Unitarian Universalist Lay Community Minister, specifically called this out–the importance of recognizing the legacies of harm that people and institutions of faith have caused LGBTQ+ people and the wider community, through physical and spiritual violence such as conversion therapy, purity culture, and colonial erasure. The freedom to religion, Peace said, is just as important as the right to freedom from religion, especially as far-right Christianity continues to be weaponized against LGBTQ+ peoples’ rights. 

Atheists, agnostics, and the “nones” — the people who identify with no form of religion — Peace said, are valid and important contributors to interfaith work, recognizing that faith is not for everyone and spirituality, especially for queer people hurt by organized religion, is often a malleable and non-organizational conduit to sacred affirmation.

The desire to protect the LGBTQ+ community’s access to and freedom from religion is also a critical way, Rev. Anderson-Harvey affirmed, to understand and affirm that sacredness is inherent within all queer and trans people. They are divine and holy, Anderson-Harvey affirmed, echoing the Lavender Interfaith Collective’s Call to Action in the Washington Blade: “every person is worthy, every voice sacred, everybody divine.” And no part of them or anyone can be or is illegal, Rev. Cuban Episcopal priest Yoimel Gonzalez Hernandez said. 

“This is sacred work,” the Collective’s Call affirmed, and work that must prioritize and uplift the value of every person in these communities through intentional actions against ableism, racism, white supremacy, and all other forms of oppression. 

It echoed a panel held just two days earlier at the Metropolitan Community Church of Washington (MCC-DC), festooned with rainbow textiles and a handmade quilt stitched with the church’s motto, “Every Thread Divine,” for WorldPride. There, Ani Zonneveld from Muslims of Progress Values, ordained Druid clergy member Rev. Shige Sakurai from the Unitarian Universalist Church, hedge priest Ron Padrón from White Rose Witching, and I gathered as panelists to discuss the history, potentials and futures of interfaith coalition building and action and to commit to learning and acting together.

With stickers reading “Gay is God,” a play on D.C.-based activist Frank Kameny’s “Gay is Good” and miniature rainbow flags with powerful phrases like “Trans is Divine,” “Protect Trans Kids,” and “God is Gay” fixed to attendees shirts, about 40 people gathered at MCC-DC to discuss interfaith cooperation and LGBTQ+ advocacy, exploring how we protect our movement and reimagine collective paths toward peace. It was a meaningful start to a week of interfaith work that Center Faith and the Lavender Interfaith Collective will continue throughout the year. 

Closing with everyone singing a rendition of “Sometimes Inside So Strong,” those gathered proclaimed that “the more you refuse to hear my voice, The louder I will sing”–a testament to queer people of faith’s refusal to back down in the fight for survival and liberation and queer and allied faith leaders commitment to fight the weaponization of faith as a tool for queer oppression. 


Emma Cieslik is a D.C.-based museum worker and public historian.

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Gloria Steinem’s life of substance and consequence

Iconic activist never stopped working to make life better for women

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Gloria Steinem and Susan Lynskey, who played Gloria at Theatre J in 2023. (Photo by Peter Rosenstein)

Gloria Steinem was an icon, a feminist, a woman of substance and consequence. A rare person who made a difference her entire life; sometimes quietly, sometimes by making noise. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, inside and out. 

I heard of Gloria Steinem and admired her for all she was doing. But that was from a distance. I read about her, and saw her on TV. It was 1963 when Steinem wrote and published her undercover Playboy Bunny exposé, “A Bunny’s Tale,” about her going undercover at New York’s Playboy Club. Her account revealed the physical toll, exploitative conditions, and pervasive sexism faced by the women employed there, challenging the magazine’s image of empowerment.

It was 1972 when I first met her in person. That first meeting happened while I was campaigning for Bella Abzug (D-N.Y.) at a street rally. I said “Hello, Ms. Steinem,” and she said “It’s OK to call me Gloria.” I was honored to do so. 

Gloria was there to support her friend. Bella had been through a grueling primary against Bill Ryan, after being redistricted out of her seat. She lost, but then Bill died of cancer before the election, and Bella was named the Democratic candidate in the general election for New York’s 20th congressional district. When Bella won that race, I went to work for her full time. It gave me the chance to meet Gloria again a number of times after that, once even with Bella at her apartment. While she was one of the many famous people I met while working for Bella, she was different. She wasn’t Hollywood. She began her career as a reporter, and worked hard for all she believed in. She was a true activist. That was what she saw herself as. She could say she came by the activism gene from her paternal grandmother, Pauline Perlmutter Steinem who Wikipedia reported, “chaired the educational committee of the National Woman Suffrage Association and was a delegate to the 1908 International Council of Women. Also, the first woman to be elected to the Toledo Board of Education and a leader in the movement for vocational education. She helped rescue many members of her family from the Holocaust.” 

So yes, in many ways, activism was in Gloria’s genes. She was the one who told me it was OK to call myself a ‘feminist’. That it isn’t only women who can call themselves that, but also men who believed and fought for full social, economic, and political equality of the sexes. She helped me to understand I was brought up by a feminist. My mom, though she never called herself that, was one by dint of how she lived her life, and fought for others.  

Gloria never stopped working to make life better for women, and to make sure other women joined her in her activism. In 1969, she co-founded Ms. Magazine. Then in 1971, with Bella Abzug, Betty Friedan and Shirley Chisholm, she founded the National Women’s Political Caucus, which provided training and support for women seeking elected and appointed office. Then in the same year she co-founded the Women’s Action Alliance, which until 1997 supported a network of feminist activists and worked to advance feminist causes and legislation. 

Gloria would hold other women to task if they didn’t speak out, even at difficult times, but always with love. In 1986, Bella’s husband Martin died at the young age of 69. We were at the funeral home the night before the funeral, and Bella was sitting with some of us, and saying she didn’t know what she would do without Martin. It had been a true love affair. She was saying things like she didn’t even know where the checkbook was, what their rent was, etc., because Martin handled all that. Well Gloria overheard this and came over and said to Bella, “Don’t you dare say that in public, women look up to you as a feminist, as independent, you can’t say that.”  And we all laughed, even Bella, as did Gloria, but she was serious. 

Then in the 1990s Gloria helped to establish what she called ‘Take Our Daughters to Work Day.’ She did this to try to have young girls learn about future career opportunities. But her work wasn’t done and in 2005, along with Jane Fonda and Robin Morgan, she co-founded the Women’s Media Center. It is an organization that “works to make women visible and powerful in the media.”

The last time I saw Gloria was at the opening night of “Gloria: A Life,” at Theatre J in D.C. She was 88, as beautiful, and sharp as ever, having just come back from a speaking engagement in some far-off country. 

Gloria, the world will miss you, RIP.


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

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Anti-science, anti-LGBTQ movements go hand in hand

HHS under RFK Jr. has blocked gender-affirming care for youth

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HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

A newborn baby died after contracting measles in Pennsylvania last month, and, as if it wasn’t enough grief for his parents, anti-vax activists are trying to track down and harass his family. Apparently, Gov. Josh Shapiro tangled with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. over his “inaccurate and misleading claims.”

On Aug. 26, RFK Jr., the secretary of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, declared that the deaths could be fabricated. We live in peculiar times, when it is government officials, not freaks on the internet, who are spreading conspiracy theories. The new spread of measles in the United States since Donald Trump came to power is one of the most shameful parts of the story of modern American politics, and the tragedy of parents who lost their baby because more and more people refused to vaccinate may seem absolutely unrelated to LGBTQ rights, but actually, there is a pretty solid connection.

Because RFK Jr., the same man who was fighting vaccination, promoted the false idea that vaccines caused autism, and even curated the anti-vaccine organization Children’s Health Defense before going into politics, is also a known opponent of transgender rights. Under his “leadership,” gender-affirming care for trans minors was banned, and there were also created new healthcare guidelines recognizing only two genders.

All around the globe, there is a weird correlation between anti-LGBTQ — particularly anti-trans — ideas and anti-science movements. And it should be clearer to the general public. People who are speaking against LGBTQ rights are not just threatening minorities. They are a danger to everyone.

The Trump-Vance administration is an iconic example of such tendencies. 

Trump himself is a known critic of modern scientific studies — for example, believing in the same anti-vax conspiracies that Kennedy promoted, and showing obvious skepticism that global warming exists, despite all the evidence that has been shown by climatologists. And he is also a man who used trans people as boogeymen. Under his command, trans people were kicked out of the military. And even worse, recently he made an extremely chilling statement about the 2026 midterm elections, urging voters to “pretend I’m on the ballot” and vote for Republicans, and while discussing what he says is at stake, he said that if Republicans win, “transgenderism” will “end.” This is an offensive statement at best and genocidal at worst.

And, of course, I think everyone remembers the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), which was led by infamous billionaire Elon Musk, who announced to the world that he would destroy the “woke mind virus” that killed his child just because his trans daughter, Vivian Wilson, well, is happy to be a trans person.

DOGE is known not just for cancelling academic research around LGBTQ studies and gender studies. No, this agency abruptly canceled and froze thousands of federal science, research, and health grants, attacking such vital health programs as cancer research, vaccination research, and diabetes research, among others. As you can see, they are not just attacking people who are “affected” by the “mind” virus — they are dangerous to everyone, even if most of the public standing of Musk was around his anti-trans politics and he tried to present himself as a pro-science, pro-progress man by supporting the space industry.

An even more vivid example is the so-called Dark Enlightenment movement. 

This extremely reactionary political movement was born in the late 2000s, and originally grew from very democratical classical liberal ideas. Until it became anti-democratic itself. And also often It was created by American software engineer Curtis Yarvin (writing under the pseudonym Mencius Moldbug) and expanded by British philosopher Nick Land. The movement is popular among some Silicon Valley businessmen, and got support from PayPal founder Peter Thiel, and one of their main ideas is that modernity is bad. They are basically obscurantists, who see modern universities as part of “the Cathedral” — a system that, in their opinion, promotes equality and modern science that society doesn’t need. Of course, the movement’s followers are mostly anti-LGBTQ rights, and, as you can see, anti-queerness once again go hand in hand with obscurantism. Unfortunately, the movement got the support of extremely prominent politicians, including U.S. Vice President JD Vance. 

In his speech from 2021, Vance proved to be an obscurantist when he claimed that universities are the enemy. He is also a known homophobe and transphobe.

So, why are anti-vaxxers, people who oppose modern scientific studies, and people who hate universities more likely to be queerphobic? Why do the same people who are defending their transphobia by showing that they support common sense actually often show zero such sense when it comes to protecting themselves and their children from measles or decreasing the chances of getting cancer?

We don’t have any statistics or studies that show that all obscurantists are queerphobic, but around the globe, the same dynamic is visible.

In Russian anti-LGBTQ censorship, books about animal biology and zoology have been censored because the censors saw “LGBT propaganda” in them. The famous pro-Putin philosopher Alexander Dugin, who is extremely anti-queer, also speaks up against modernity itself.

In Taliban’s Afghanistan, modern science and LGBTQ rights are attacked at the same time.

Even in the UK, Reform UK is known as the most anti-trans and anti-queer party, and they are facing widespread criticism from scientists and medical experts for promoting climate change denial and anti-vaccine ideas. It doesn’t mean that LGBTQ supporters never believe in conspiracy theories or that progressive politicians always support science.

No, it just means that explicit anti-science and anti-LGBTQ statements often go hand in hand.

I think there are two reasons for this correlation.

First, LGBTQ people are real. You cannot deny that sex is not binary, gender and sex are different, and transition improves the quality of life of actual trans people. Or that same-sex relationships are natural, because even animals have same-sex sexual contacts. To deny it, you need an ideology or a conspiracy theory.

The second reason is that anti-scientific populism and anti-LGBTQ conspiracy theories are popular among the same category of people. It’s a “bundle” of ideas — a trend that conservative voters often adopt together. Studies also show that people who are likely to believe in one conspiracy theory are more likely to believe in another.

But the question is more broad. We don’t speak enough about the harm anti-scientific conspiracy theories and obscurantist politicians around the globe create for mankind in general. Not all people would suffer from a prohibition of hormone therapy, or attacks on same-sex marriage. But anti-global warming ideas, anti-vax advocates, and restrictions on modern research, especially medical research, are potentially dangerous to any human being.

And one of the best things LGBTQ activists could do is just show society that they are being used — that the same people who are stealing LGBTQ rights are also destroying medicine and the environment, and it’s a threat to their own traditional families and future of all kids no less than to queer people.

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Trans people need a politics of ordinary life

Seeking the freedom to stop explaining ourselves

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(Image by smarnad/Bigstock)

For much of the modern transgender rights movement, our political vocabulary has understandably been a vocabulary of emergency. We talk about healthcare bans, bathroom restrictions, discrimination, violence, court decisions, and executive orders. We organize because something is being taken away, prohibited or threatened.

Those fights are necessary. But they cannot constitute our entire vision of transgender life.

The Williams Institute at UCLA estimates that approximately 2.8 million Americans ages 13 and older identify as transgender, including roughly 2.1 million adults. Transgender people are only about 0.8 percent of the adult population. Yet transgender Americans occupy an extraordinary amount of the country’s political attention.

Behind those political arguments are millions of people doing profoundly ordinary things.

We commute to work. We complain about rent. We walk our dogs. We sit in traffic. We buy groceries. We fall in love with people who sometimes disappoint them. We worry about our parents getting older. We try to make enough money to retire. We drink coffee before work and wonder what to make for dinner.

This ordinariness should be part of the political project.

For years, LGBTQ advocacy has emphasized visibility. Visibility was necessary because silence allowed discrimination to flourish. Americans needed to understand that gay and transgender people existed in their families, workplaces and communities.

But visibility is a means, not an end.

The endpoint of civil rights is not permanent visibility. It is freedom.

And freedom includes the freedom to stop explaining yourself.

There should be nothing remarkable about a transgender accountant preparing someone’s taxes, a transgender teacher grading papers, a transgender novelist writing a book that has absolutely nothing to do with gender, or a transgender retiree arguing with the homeowners association about somebody’s fence.

That sounds almost comically mundane. That is precisely the point.

For many transgender Americans, mundane life remains harder to obtain than it should be. The 2022 U.S. Transgender Survey, which collected responses from more than 92,000 people, found that 34 percent of respondents were experiencing poverty and 18 percent were unemployed. Eleven percent of respondents who had ever worked reported losing a job because of their gender identity or expression. Nearly 30 percent had experienced homelessness during their lives.

Those numbers tell us something important about what transgender politics should accomplish.

A successful movement cannot measure progress exclusively by representation in television shows, corporate Pride campaigns or the number of transgender politicians elected to office. It must also ask whether transgender people can build stable, boring lives.

Can you find a job?

Can you rent an apartment?

Can you go to the doctor without becoming a political subject?

Can you walk into a restaurant with your spouse without calculating whether everyone is staring at you?

Can you spend an afternoon thinking about something other than being transgender?

Even healthcare illustrates the distance between formal inclusion and ordinary dignity. A 2024 KFF analysis found that 33 percent of LGBT adults who had recently used healthcare reported being treated unfairly or disrespectfully by a healthcare provider, compared with 15 percent of non-LGBT adults. Thirty-nine percent said a negative healthcare experience had made them less likely to seek care.

Equality therefore cannot simply mean keeping a clinic open. It must mean being able to enter that clinic, receive competent treatment and leave without feeling that your identity has swallowed the entire encounter.

There is a broader political lesson here.

Transgender Americans have sometimes been transformed into abstractions by both sides of the culture war. To some conservatives, we are evidence of social decline. To some progressives, we become symbols of resistance. Neither description leaves much room for the complicated, frequently uninteresting reality of being a person.

Most people do not wake up every morning thinking about their demographic categories. They think about deadlines, relationships, bills, ambitions, annoyances and whether there is enough milk in the refrigerator.

Transgender people deserve that luxury too.

A politics of ordinary life would therefore defend transgender healthcare and civil rights vigorously while articulating something beyond defense. Its objective would be integration: transgender Americans participating in civic life without every interaction becoming a referendum on gender.

That means protecting employment and housing. It means making competent healthcare routine rather than exceptional. It means creating communities where transgender children can imagine futures that extend beyond surviving adolescence. And it means allowing transgender adults to become bankers, mechanics, professors, parents, entrepreneurs and retirees without expecting them to become activists simply because they are transgender.

There will always be people who choose activism. We need them. There will always be people who speak publicly about their transitions. Their testimony matters.

But there should also be room for the transgender person who wants none of that.

Civil rights movements succeed not merely when marginalized people become visible, but when their presence stops requiring explanation.

The most radical future I can imagine for transgender Americans is therefore surprisingly conventional: a country in which being transgender can become one fact among hundreds about a person rather than the organizing principle of a life.

Perhaps the ultimate measure of transgender equality will not be how frequently America talks about transgender people. It will be the day when it no longer has to.


Isaac Amend is a transgender man and writer based in D.C. In 2017, Isaac starred in National Geographic’s “Gender Revolution” documentary. He sits on the board of the LGBT Democrats of Virginia. His author’s portfolio is available at isaacamend.com and you can find him on Instagram at: @isaacamend.

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