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Protection should mean protection

Disbelief as court modifies protective order against Pasha

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(Photo by Sergei Gnatuk/Bigstock)

There is a particular kind of disbelief that Black queer women know intimately. It is not always explicit. It shows up in hesitation, in “both sides” framing, and in systems that require us to prove, again and again, that we are worthy of safety. 

We see that disbelief happening now with the temporary protection order (TPO) involving an individual, D. Pasha. He is accused of repeatedly harassing staff, board members, and volunteers at the Capital Pride Alliance, which led the organization to ask the court for protection. 

The Capital Pride Alliance did not seek this order lightly. They spent over a year documenting his harassment, and several witnesses gave almost two hours of testimony about a pattern of behavior that caused real fear. The organization also spent months working out how to legally protect its staff, volunteers, board, and contractors from this individual. 

At first, the Court agreed and issued a stay-away order that included CPA’s office and other locations, setting a clear boundary to protect staff, volunteers, and community members. 

But that protection did not last. 

After the order was issued, Pasha spoke with a reporter from the Washington Blade and learned that CPA shares office space with the DC LGBTQ Center. It is important to note that he didn’t know this detail before. He then sought an emergency hearing, claiming he needed access to “vital services” from the CPA and DC LGBTQ Center shared offices.  

The Court granted it, allowing access with a 24-hour notice to CPA. According to the Court, the modification was based on Mr. Pasha’s claim that denying him entry to the DC Center would prevent him from accessing essential support services provided there. Although CPA objected and highlighted the lack of recent service usage and the availability of alternatives, the Court determined that his stated need for services warranted an exception to the stay-away order. 

Let’s be clear about what this means. 

There is no record of him accessing services or being at the DC LGBTQ Center in over a year. Numerous organizations across DC provide the same services he cited: food, clothing, computers, Wi-Fi, without placing him in proximity to the people who testified against him. 

And yet, the Court modified the order to allow exactly that. 

Then it escalated. Following the modification, he sent more than 20 emails and text messages in attempts to gain access to our office space, triggering another emergency hearing. At that second emergency hearing, the court maintained its previous decision, allowing Mr. Pasha continued access to the location. 

This is not a technicality. This is a failure of real protection. 

The outcome was shaped not just in the courtroom, but in how it was presented afterward. 

Recent coverage centered the acceptance of a less restrictive order, while giving the person at the center of this case a platform to define the narrative in his own words. He was described as an LGBTQ activist, quoted at length, and presented with his name, voice, and image, including statements like “I am happy with what we have accomplished so far,” “even if I lose this case, I am glad that I spoke up,” and that “the truth will come out.” 

That framing does not exist in a vacuum. It omits important context about the pattern of conduct that led to this case, including the history and the events that followed the Court’s initial order. It also gives weight to claims about access to services that are not reflected in actual usage. 

At the same time, the hours of testimony describing a pattern of conduct that caused fear, serious alarm, and emotional distress are reduced to a small part of the story. The individuals who came forward are largely unnamed, unseen, and unheard. The record that was built in court is condensed, while his narrative is expanded. 

When one side is given visibility, voice, and narrative, and the other is reduced to summary, that is not balance. It is distortion. 

We also need to be honest about who is being asked to bear the consequences of that failure. 

Two Black queer women testified. They followed the process. They showed up, told the truth, and trusted the system to do what it is designed to do: protect them. 

Instead, the system created a pathway back to proximity, back to fear. 

That is not a neutral outcome. It is a choice about whose safety matters most and whose safety can be compromised. 

This is not an isolated incident. It reflects a broader pattern in how systems fail Black women, survivors, and LGBTQ+ people, especially at the intersections of those identities. 

According to the Human Rights Campaign, data shows that over 60% of bisexual women and more than 40% of lesbian women experience physical violence or stalking.  

Violence does not start with homicide. It starts with being dismissed, with being minimized, and with systems that do not act fairly or quickly when harm is reported. 

It starts when people question the credibility of Black queer women. 

When access is granted to those who cause fear, instead of protection being fully extended to those who experience it. 

And it continues when we treat these outcomes as unfortunate, rather than unacceptable. 

Capital Pride Alliance believes in access. We invest in it. We help sustain the very services being cited in this case. But access cannot come at the expense of safety, especially when alternatives exist, and risk is known. 

The question here is not complicated: what does protection actually mean, and who deserves it? 

If a court acknowledges harm but still allows proximity, is that protection? 

If Black queer women testify and are still placed within reach of the person they testified against, what message does that send? 

We cannot keep calling these systems fair if they keep putting the same people at risk. 

Courts need to think about safety in a broader sense, one that reflects real life rather than just following procedures. This means looking at not only direct threats, but also ongoing harassment, intimidation, and the real fear survivors feel when they must share space with someone who has harmed them. 

Real changes could include ensuring stay-away orders are enforced even in shared spaces, working with community groups to offer alternative ways to access services, and asking survivors about their safety needs before changing protection orders. Courts should also get training on the experiences of Black queer women and LGBTQ+ survivors, so their voices and realities are at the center of decisions. 

Our community needs to work toward real safety and protection. Because visibility without safety is not liberation. Protection that can be so easily undone is not protection at all. 

May 28 is LGBTQ+ Domestic Violence Awareness Day.  

#SeenAndBelieved is a call to action: recognize the harm, trust survivors, and create systems that truly protect them. 


June Crenshaw is COO of the Capital Pride Alliance.

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The boy they refused to forget

Jonathan David Muir Burgos released from Cuban prison after participating in protest

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Jonathan David Muir Burgos (Graphic by Ignacio Estrada Cepero)

When the Washington Blade first reported the story of Jonathan David Muir Burgos, the news centered on a 16-year-old Cuban teenager who had been sent to prison after taking part in a public protest in Morón, Ciego de Ávila. At the time, the facts were straightforward. A minor had lost his freedom, and his case was beginning to attract attention beyond Cuba’s borders.

Today there is another fact that deserves to be recorded with the same rigor.

Jonathan is no longer in prison.

His release, confirmed by multiple news organizations, closes one chapter of a story that, for months, was followed by journalists, human rights organizations, religious communities, and countless individuals who refused to let his name disappear from public view. Each of them became part of a much larger effort to ensure that the imprisonment of a Cuban teenager would not fade into silence as the news cycle moved on.

That collective attention does not explain every decision that ultimately led to Jonathan’s release, and it would be irresponsible to suggest otherwise. Judicial processes are rarely shaped by a single factor. What can be said with certainty is that Jonathan’s story never disappeared. It continued to be documented, discussed and followed long after the initial headlines were published.

Behind every widely reported case there is a family living a reality that rarely appears in the news. In Jonathan’s case, there was a father who also serves as a Protestant pastor and who spent months speaking publicly about his son while asking others not to forget him. There was a mother enduring the uncertainty familiar to any parent separated from a child. There were classmates, friends, and neighbors waiting for the day when Jonathan would no longer be known as the teenager behind bars, but simply as the young man returning home.

The image of a prison gate opening often marks the end of a news story. In reality, it marks the beginning of something far more difficult. A teenager must resume an interrupted education, reconnect with friends, rebuild ordinary routines, and recover a sense of normalcy after months in confinement. Those experiences seldom become headlines, yet they are part of the true cost of imprisonment.

Jonathan’s release is therefore more than an update to a story previously reported. It is a reminder that public attention has value. Journalism matters because it documents. Human rights organizations matter because they investigate. Communities matter because they refuse indifference. Families matter because they continue to wait, even when the waiting becomes unbearable. None of these efforts should be viewed in isolation. Together they ensure that a person’s story does not disappear simply because time has passed.

Many people leave prison after being forgotten.

Jonathan David Muir Burgos walked out of prison knowing that, throughout those months, thousands of people had continued to speak his name, follow his case and hope for the day when this story could be told differently.

Today, that day has arrived.

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Is Pride over at the end of June?

A reminder that we must be vigilant, visible all year long

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A scene from the 2026 Capital Pride Parade. (Washington Blade photo by Landon Shackelford)

Pride month was first celebrated in June 1970, one year after the Stonewall Riots of 1969. Pride month commemorates the Stonewall Riots, which occurred on June 28, 1969, at the Stonewall Inn in New York City’s Greenwich Village. The first organized Pride marches were held on June 28, 1970, in New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, marking the first anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. 

In June 2000, President Bill Clinton officially designated June as Gay and Lesbian Pride Month, and in 2009, President Barack Obama updated the designation to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month, recognizing the contributions and struggles of the LGBTQ community. We have fought a long time to be able to be open and out. Activists since Stonewall have fought so we can live with the promise of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” as promised in the Declaration of Independence. We just want to be recognized, and accepted, for who we were born as, or for who we are. 

For me, and so many others, Pride is not only something we celebrate for the month of June, but we celebrate it all year long, for our whole lives. I am not denigrating the month of June celebrations. They are important, and bring visibility to our community. The diversity represented in D.C. Pride is wonderful. There is Trans Pride, Black Pride, youth Pride, among other events. We all have one thing in common, and just want to live our lives in peace. We want to enjoy our families, the ones we were born into, and those we choose. We want a good job, good friends, and good health, like everyone else. But because we are still seen as ‘different’ by so many, we have had to fight for our rights, and ask the government to grant them. When marriage laws were first promulgated, they didn’t include us, we had to fight for marriage equality. When healthcare is given to everyone, it was denied to trans people, and we have to fight for the government’s approval. When government gave the right to others for jobs, and housing, we were often denied. We still have no guarantees for either in 27 states. These fights go on. 

I recognize we were not the only ones who had to fight for our rights. This country was founded by white Christian men, and they didn’t offer the rights they guaranteed themselves, to anyone else. They discriminated against women, Black people, and so many others, as they have discriminated against the LGBTQ community. So, we all had to fight for our rights, and today, are all still fighting for them.

While they did not mention religion, it was mentioned in the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment, which states: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.” This clause has been interpreted to mean the government cannot favor one religion over another, or establish a national religion, thereby ensuring a degree of separation between religious institutions and government.

It is sick, very sick, that today, we are faced with a lying felon in the White House, who once again is sanctioning discrimination against every group that is not white, Christian men. Through his attack on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, he has set the fight for equality for all back a couple of hundred years. Nowhere can it be seen more clearly than in the Department of Defense where his stooge, Pete Hegseth, is trying to fire, and in any way he can, rid the military of women, Black service members, and members of the LGBTQ community. He is doing it so blatantly no one can deny it is happening. The felon is doing this across the government, and coercing those in the private sector to do the same.

So, in the month of June, here in D.C., in the home of our federal government, and in front of the people’s house, the White House, we in the LGBTQ community are all out. We share our parade, our festival, our parties, our experiences, our friends and lovers, husbands and wives, in public. We do so, and demand, that we can do it all year long, without being afraid. We do it so those who have yet to come out — young people maybe living in rural Virginia, or rural Maryland, those who still feel unsafe coming out — know there is a large community here who will welcome them with open arms and who will support them if their families and community don’t. We do it so they see they have heroes to emulate and can have a positive vision of their future. 

So, we celebrate Pride in June, so we can celebrate our pride in who we are, all year long. 


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

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Administration must stop targeting LGBTQ kids

Trump is doing all he can to harm trans students

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(Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

I’m a gay man, I’m a graduate student, here is why I’m afraid of what the Trump administration is doing with the Office of Civil Rights.

I consider myself lucky to have grown up as a gay man in the time that I did. As a millennial, I came of age at the tail end of when it was still almost entirely socially unacceptable to be gay. That decision, 17 years ago, has defined much of my life since. While it is nowhere near perfect, I am mostly happy with the current times as a gay man, though I often lament for how my trans brothers and sisters are treated. 

That’s why I’m so terrified with some of the moves the Trump administration has made, especially most recently with its rescission of Title IX provisions. Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 is a landmark civil rights law that prevents any school or education program from discriminating on the basis of sex if they receive federal funding. It is a funding pact that effectively remodeled the American education landscape, providing equal opportunity for male and female athletes, outlawing discriminatory admissions practices, ensuring pregnant people have accommodations on campuses, and finally compelling schools to address and investigate sexual assault or harrassment in schools. In short, Title IX exists to create gender and sex based equity primarily in schools that receive federal funding; schools found to have been routinely violating this pact are subject to penalties, including even losing federal funding. 

Recently, K-12 Dive reported that the Department of Education rescinded the Title IX provisions that established anti-discrimination protections for LGBTQ+ students. In principle, the provisions barred discrimination against LGBTQ+ students in educational facilities that receive federal funding. Going by the Department’s public statements, Education Secretary Linda McMahon believes that these provisions, which were advanced by the past two Democratic administrations “distorted the law to police discrimination on the basis of ‘gender identity.’” 

Essentially, the Trump administration is signaling its inclination to withhold student loans, the lifeblood of higher education finance, from schools that don’t make life miserable for trans students. The administration’s desire to turn back the clock is a real slap in the face of my community, and the activists who fought fiercely for acceptance, protection, and the recognition of gay rights. Beyond the usual anti-queer, right wing slop, this is an indicator that the administration is fundamentally trying to erase the queer identity. This will have unequivocally bleak effects on queer youth.

A bit of background might help. In 2019, the Supreme Court made a landmark employment law ruling in Bostock v Clayton County, which held that Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 protects employees against discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity. The plain text of Title VII only protects against discrimination on the basis of “sex,” but in Bostock, the court found that to be a gay employee requires first being a man, and to be a lesbian employee requires first being a woman. Likewise, to be discriminated against for trans or non-binary identity is to be discriminated against because your gender identity does not match your birth sex. Thus, the court held that workplace discrimination against LGBTQ identities are necessarily forms of sex discrimination, so protections for LGBTQ+ people in the workplace should be read into Title VII’s existing language.

This landmark decision was one of the biggest victories for advocates for LGBTQ employees in more than 50 years. Trump appointee Justice Neil Gorsuch even wrote for the majority that “an employer who fires an individual merely for being gay or transgender defies the law,” showing how patently unfair the state of LGBTQ employment was prior to the ruling. Personally, I have navigated so many spaces in fear of what could happen to me if anyone found out that I’m gay, but since Bostock, I’ve been so much more at ease. 

But Bostock only considered Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, the section that prohibits discrimination in employment. It didn’t consider Title IX, which prohibits discrimination at colleges and universities that receive federal funding, even though both Title VII and Title IX are parts of the same statute. As a result, Bostock only prohibited homophobia and transphobia in employment practices, not on college campuses.

Early in his administration, President Joe Biden signed an executive order in hopes of rectifying that limitation. He directed heads of federal agencies to review workforce actions to ensure that departments were complying with the Bostock rule – essentially, even though Bostock only requires anti-discrimination protections for LGBTQ people in employment, Biden established a national policy of voluntarily extending the same anti-discrimination protections into other parts of American life governed by the Civil Rights Act. 

As part of that effort, the Department of Justice issued a memorandum instructing federal agencies to apply Bostock to both Title VII and Title IX (the latter of course is enforced by the Office of Civil Rights in the Education Department). Later, in 2024, the Department of Education amended Title IX regulations to explicitly protect LGBTQ people from discrimination in federally funded buildings (most obviously schools). 

The result of all these legal technicalities is that under the Biden rules, OCR must protect trans students who want to use the bathroom of their choice; a gay student cannot be discriminated against for being gay; and most importantly, a student cannot be rejected from a school, or expelled, for simply being who they are.

This small change is actually revolutionary for LGBTQ+ students. Beyond the fact that the second leading cause of death among LGBTQ youth is suicide, queer kids are twice as likely to be called names, verbally harassed, or physically assaulted. This often leads to increased substance abuse, self-harm, chronic absenteeism, and poor academic performance. With younger people coming out earlier than ever, it is critically important that we ensure we are protecting our queer youth. 

The administration wants society to backslide. They want these kids to face discrimination. Never mind that one of Trump’s own Supreme Court picks wrote the majority opinion in Bostock, he and his cronies think it is perfectly fine for LGBTQ students to face harassment because they (falsely) claim the Biden administration had a warped interpretation ofBostock. After all, this is the same administration that cut funding to the 988 suicide hotline, banned trans people from serving in the military, and systematically weaponizes federal law against trans people across the country. 

Republican-led states are clearly treating this as an opportunity to declare war on queer students as well. In May, South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster signed the Student Physical Privacy Act which mandates “multi-person facilities be designated for use by one sex at a time, defined by biological sex at birth. It also requires schools and colleges to provide single-user restrooms or changing spaces for students who request them.” In practice, trans students in South Carolina are basically relegated to port-a-potties. State Sen. Jason Elliot of Green said, “[T]he bill would allow the use of a portable restroom facility, if necessary, to meet that need [for a trans student]. So it’s not going to be an overly burdensome financial responsibility on K-12 schools or colleges or universities.” Rather than address the Palmetto state’s biggest actual policy issues like cost of living, health care accessibility, poor response to extreme weather events, dependency on tourism and a state graduation rate of less than 85%, they choose to attack trans kids, which again will only exacerbate the latter of these problems.

As a gay man, I find this troubling and deeply demoralizing. The second Trump administration is doing everything in its power to harm an already deeply marginalized community. Sending signals to state governments as well means Americans are rolling back the years to a time in which young LGBTQ people were fearful to be who they are. It’s the younger generations who are going to feel the immediate effects of these policies – even if a future Democratic administration reinstates the Biden-era policies, you only get the four years of high school or college once. If your time as a young person coincides with this administration and its bigotry, that can leave an indelible mark on your life and understanding of yourself in this country. 

Am I protected as an adult? Well, yes, but as an educational policy wonk and gay man, I fear for younger queer people who just want to live authentically. The next Democratic administration must make reversing these changes to Title IX a priority. Any Democrat who claims to care about queer people, must ensure that these students are protected. 


Chris Lewis is deputy research director of the Revolving Door Project.

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