Books
Sam Altman bio traces AI guru from gay student to Trump acolyte
How a young idealist’s crusade mutated into a billionaire’s collaboration
Now that the acid bath of authoritarian government is undermining the foundations of our democracy, historians will ask, “Who were the big enablers, the billionaires who collaborated? And why, when there was still hope?”
A biography of Sam Altman, the visionary CEO of OpenAI, an artificial general intelligence (A.G.I.) development company, tells the story with the weight of a great novel. “The Optimist: Sam Altman, OpenAI, and the Race to Invent the Future” by Wall Street Journal reporter Keach Hagey is framed as the story of a corporate struggle. However, it can be appreciated as a “bildungsroman,” a novel of education about a gay young man’s personal quest to ultimately create superintelligence with the development of A.G.I. Sounds like Marvel but thanks to Keach Hagey and the research of her colleagues over the years at the Wall Street Journal this story soars in the real world.

Sam Altman gathers his personal force through so many moments and epic events brought to life in this biography. My favorite is his high school Gay Straight Alliance “he almost willed into existence,” according to one of his gay friends at the time. In a “Child is father to the Man” moment, Altman is incensed the GSA student assembly he organized has generated controversy because a Christian group and their parents have demanded their kids be excused. Altman presses ahead and uses the opportunity as a “bombshell for maximum rhetorical impact” to come out in front of the entire student body. Until then, only a few friends knew his story. A natural leader with preternatural confidence as a kid, Altman’s message carried the day as it would in the years to come in Silicon Valley.
In pursuit of his quest with optimistic brilliance, Altman brings the first commercial application of OpenAI, ChatGPT to the market. This generates billions in shareholder value while he survives upheavals in the governance of OpenAI, including getting fired by independent board members, then hired by Microsoft and called back by OpenAI. Hagey makes this both comprehensible and exciting. Amid the turmoil, the story darkens with head-snapping reversals of direction on the two most important principles of his adult life. The first was A.G.I. should be controlled by a non-profit board to ensure its safety and benefits for all humanity before it devours us. The second was his classically liberal worldview of government’s role to ensure the future of his techno-utopian ideals with open source technology for the public benefit. Hagey describes in gripping detail how Altman betrayed those twin pillars of a young man’s quest that withered in the face of ambition. “Founders are kings, emperors, gods” to the billionaire venture capitalists who fund them, Hagey explains Altman’s ability to raise billions and be courted by politicians while living a maxed-out gay life.
Altman and Oliver Mulhering (whom he met in Trump-backer Peter Thiel’s hot tub at 3 a.m., according to Hagey) married in 2024 “beneath a jasmine-draped chuppah (canopy) erected among the palm trees of his Hawaiian estate.” A scene of “almost unimaginable splendor,” she describes the wedding in gauzey awe but then draws a wrenching direct line from this moment of “splendor” to the fate of British mathematician Alan Turing, the WW II computing genius who broke the Nazi’s Enigma code. Turing, Hagey writes, “whose ideas had inspired the technology behind Altman’s ChatGPT,” committed suicide in 1954 after a punishment of chemical castration by the British government for being homosexual. The British government formally acknowledged and apologized for its persecution of Turing after software engineer John Graham-Cumming led a 10-year long movement in the UK for an apology. Living astride such epic historical context in the computing world when asked about the significance of his marriage, Altman responded in an Advocateinterview in an uncharacteristically underwhelming way “the laws have changed more quickly than I ever thought they would, so I’m grateful for that … I don’t have time for politics.”
He soon would.
Altman had already compared Donald Trump to Adolph Hitler posing “an unprecedented threat to America.”
“To anyone familiar with the history of Germany in the 1930s, it’s chilling to watch Trump in action,” he said. After Trump’s victory in 2024, and dining with Trump at Mar-a-Lago and more conversations with Trump, came his $1 million personal contribution to the Trump 2025 inaugural, and a confession I have “really changed my perspective on him.” Trump “will be incredible for the country in many ways,” Altman said. Perhaps because of a push to release the book, “The Optimist” fails to explore this and coming contortions: Altman alongside Trump announcing a $500 billion “Stargate Initiative” for massive A.I. data centers alongside A.I. deregulation, no more handwringing about safety. “I hope he’s right about A.I.,” Trump said.
Whatever happened to the kid who stood up for his Gay Straight Alliance? When asked in that Advocateinterview after his wedding what LGBTQ people he may have admired when growing up, he responded, “That’s a really great question, and you know, I never really thought about that.” Thanks to this excellent biography, we know young Sam is in there somewhere. Yet “The Optimist” is also a novel without an ending. How could it be otherwise at this stage of Sam Altman’s quest mutated into a billionaire’s collaboration.
Charles Francis is president of the Mattachine Society of Washington, D.C., and author of “Archive Activism: Memoir of a ‘Uniquely Nasty’ Journey,” UNT Press, 2023.
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Books
Pioneering gay journalist takes on Trump 2.0 in new book
Nick Benton’s essays appeared in Fall Church News-Press
Nicholas Benton is a well-known local LGBTQ advocate and journalist and the longtime owner and editor of the Falls Church News-Press, a weekly newspaper.
In his eighth book out now, Benton offers a new set of remarkable essays all crafted in the first eight months of Trump 2.0 and its wholesale effort at dismantling democracy and the rule of law. Most were published in the Falls Church News-Press, but he adds a new piece to this volume, as an addendum to his “Cult Century” series, revealing for the first time his experiences from decades ago in the political cult of Lyndon LaRouche, aimed at providing a clearer grasp of today’s Cult of Trump.
His “Please Don’t Eat Your Children” set takes off from the satire of Jonathan Swift to explore society’s critical role of drumming creativity out of the young.

Below is an excerpt from “Please Don’t Eat Your Children, Cult Century, and other 2025 Essays.”
Please Don’t Eat Your Children
In his famous short essay, “A Modest Proposal: For Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland From Being a Burden to Their Parents or Country and for Making Them Beneficial to the Public,” author and Anglican priest Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) uses cutting satire to suggest that cannibalism of the young might help solve a battery of social ills.
As we examine our broken society today, it seems to me that reflecting on Swift’s social critique can be quite useful. Now we face a nation filled with anger and division and there is little to suggest any real solutions other than insisting people “don’t do that!” We can start out with the observation that young children, left to their own, are neither hateful nor cruel. How do they get that way later on in their lives? What drives them toward such emotional states and behaviors? It is not a problem only for the margins of society, for the extreme misfits or troubled. It is defining the very center of our culture today. Our divisions are not the cause, but the result of something, and nobody is saying what that is.
Swift doesn’t say what it is in his biting little essay. But it is implied by a context of a lack of bounty, or poverty, on the one hand, and an approach to it characterized by obscenely cruel indifference, on the other. He coined the phrase “useless eaters” in defining his radical solution. In Hitler’s Germany, that term resonated through the death camps and some in our present situation are daring to evoke it again as the current administration pushes radical cuts in Medicaid funding.
But while that refers to the old and infirm, mostly, it is the young we are talking about here. The problem is that our society is structured to devour our young and as they begin to find that out, they rebel. Not in all cases is this the practice, of course. Where there is little or no lack, things are different. We nurture our young, as we should, and we love them. Lucky is the child who is born to parents who are of means, and in a community where nurture is possible and valued. But even such children are ultimately not immune from facing a destiny of pale conformity battered by tightly delimited social expectations and debt slavery. If they have enough ambition, education and doors opened for them, some can run the gauntlet with relative effectiveness. Otherwise, our young are raised to die on battlefields, or to struggle in myriad other painful social conflicts aimed at advancing the world of their elders. In the Bible, there is a great admonition against this process that comes at the very precondition for the tradition it represents that begins with Abraham.
It is in the book of Genesis at the beginning of the Biblical story when, as that story goes, God commanded Abraham to kill his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice. As Abraham is about to obey, God steps in and says no. The entire subsequent eons-long struggle to realize Abraham’s commission by God to make a great nation that would be a light to the world would have been cut short right then if Abraham had slain his own son. The message is that all of the Abrahamic traditions, Judaism, Islam and Christianity, owe their source, and in fact are rooted, in God’s command to reject the sacrifice of children to the whims of their elders. The last thousands of years can be best defined in these terms, where nurture is pitted against exploitation of our young with, at best, vastly mixed results. Scenes like that at the opening of “All Quiet on the Western Front,” the World War I novel and film where a teacher rallies a classroom full of boys to enlist in the war, is bone chilling. Or, the lyric in Pink Floyd’s iconic song, Comfortably Numb, “When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown, the dream is gone.”
Nick Benton’s new book is available now at Amazon.
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Books
New book highlights long history of LGBTQ oppression
‘Queer Enlightenments’ a reminder that inequality is nothing new
‘Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers’
By Anthony Delaney
c.2025, Atlantic Monthly Press
$30/352 pages
It had to start somewhere.
The discrimination, the persecution, the inequality, it had a launching point. Can you put your finger on that date? Was it DADT, the 1950s scare, the Kinsey report? Certainly not Stonewall, or the Marriage Act, so where did it come from? In “Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers” by Anthony Delaney, the story of queer oppression goes back so much farther.

The first recorded instance of the word “homosexual” arrived loudly in the spring of 1868: Hungarian journalist Károly Mária Kerthbeny wrote a letter to German activist Karl Heinrich Ulrichs referring to “same-sex-attracted men” with that new term. Many people believe that this was the “invention” of homosexuality, but Delaney begs to differ.
“Queer histories run much deeper than this…” he says.
Take, for instance, the delightfully named Mrs. Clap, who ran a “House” in London in which men often met other men for “marriage.” On a February night in 1726, Mrs. Clap’s House was raided and 40 men were taken to jail, where they were put in filthy, dank confines until the courts could get to them. One of the men was ultimately hanged for the crime of sodomy. Mrs. Clap was pilloried, and then disappeared from history.
William Pulteney had a duel with John, Lord Hervey, over insults flung at the latter man. The truth: Hervey was, in fact, openly a “sodomite.” He and his companion, Ste Fox had even set up a home together.
Adopting your lover was common in 18th century London, in order to make him a legal heir. In about 1769, rumors spread that the lovely female spy, the Chevalier d’Éon, was actually Charles d’Éon de Beaumont, a man who had been dressing in feminine attire for much longer than his espionage career. Anne Lister’s masculine demeanor often left her an “outcast.” And as George Wilson brought his bride to North American in 1821, he confessed to loving men, thus becoming North America’s first official “female husband.”
Sometimes, history can be quite dry. So can author Anthony Delaney’s wit. Together, though, they work well inside “Queer Enlightenments.”
Undoubtedly, you well know that inequality and persecution aren’t new things – which Delaney underscores here – and queer ancestors faced them head-on, just as people do today. The twist, in this often-chilling narrative, is that punishments levied on 18th- and 19th-century queer folk was harsher and Delaney doesn’t soften those accounts for readers. Read this book, and you’re platform-side at a hanging, in jail with an ally, at a duel with a complicated basis, embedded in a King’s court, and on a ship with a man whose new wife generously ignored his secret. Most of these tales are set in Great Britain and Europe, but North America features some, and Delaney wraps up thing nicely for today’s relevance.
While there’s some amusing side-eyeing in this book, “Queer Enlightenments” is a bit on the heavy side, so give yourself time with it. Pick it up, though, and you’ll love it til the end.
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Books
A history of lesbian workarounds to build family
Fighting for the right to have and raise kids
‘Radical Family: Trailblazing Lesbian Moms Tell Their Stories’
Edited by Margaret Mooney
c.2025, Wisconsin Historical Society Press
$20/150 pages
You don’t have a white picket fence with an adorable gate.
The other parts of the American Dream – the house in the suburbs, a minivan, and a big backyard – may also be beyond your reach. You’ve never wanted the joyous husband-wife union, but the two-point-five kids? Yeah, maybe that’s possible. As in the new book “Radical Family,” edited by Margaret Mooney, it’s surely more so than it was in the past.

Once upon a time, if a lesbian wanted to raise a family, she had two basic options: pregnancy or adoption. That is, says Mooney, if she was willing to buck a hetero-centric society that said the former was “selfish, unnatural and radical” and the latter was often just simply not possible or even legal.
Undaunted, and very much wanting kids, many lesbians ignored the rules. They built “chains” of women who handed off sperm from donor to doctor to potential mother. They demanded that fertility clinics allow single women as customers. They wrote pamphlets and publications aimed to help others become pregnant by themselves or with partners. They carefully sought lesbian-friendly obstetricians and nurses.
Over time, lesbians who wanted kids were “emboldened by the feminist movement and the gay and lesbian rights movement” and did what they had to do, omitted facts when needed, traveled abroad when they could, and found workarounds to build a family.
This book tells nine stories of everyday lesbians who succeeded.
Denise Matyka and Margaret McMurray went to Russia to adopt. Martha Dixon Popp and Alix Olson raised their family, in part and for awhile in conjunction with Popp’s husband. Gail Hirn learned from an agriculture publication how to inseminate herself. MC Reisdorf literally stood on her head to get pregnant. Mooney says that, like most lesbian parents then, she became a mother “without any safety nets…”
Such “struggles likely will feel familiar as you read about [the] desire to become parents…” says Mooney. “In short, these families are ordinary and extraordinary all at once.”
In her introduction, editor Margaret Mooney points out that the stories in this book generally take place in the latter part of the last century, but that their relevance is in the struggles that could happen tomorrow. There’s urgency in those words, absolutely, and they’re tinged with fear, but don’t let them keep you from “Radical Family.”
What you’ll see inside these nine tales is mostly happy, mostly triumphant – and mostly Wisconsin-centric, though the variety in dream-fulfillment is wide enough that the book is appropriate anywhere. The determination leaps out of the pages here, and the storytellers don’t hide their struggles, not with former partners, bureaucracy, or with roadblocks. Reading this book is like attending a conference and hearing attendees tell their tales. Bonus: photos and advice for any lesbian thinking of parenthood, single or partnered.
If you’re in search of positive stories from lesbian mothers and the wall-busting they did, or if you’ve lived the same tales, this slim book is a joy to read. For you, “Radical Family” may open some gates.
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