So let’s talk about that.

On March 24, 2026, a Los Angeles jury found Meta liable for designing a platform that caused a young woman depression, body dysmorphia, and suicidal thoughts. They ordered Meta to pay $4.2 million. There are about 2,000 more lawsuits waiting in line behind hers.

The Trevor Project has been tracking what social media is doing to queer kids. Between September 2023 and March 2026, anxiety symptoms among LGBTQ+ youth rose from 57% to 68%. Depression went from 48% to 54%. Suicidal ideation went from 41% to 47%. Behind every one of those numbers is a kid who came online looking for community and got fed something else.

Imagine a friend who notices everything. What makes you laugh, what makes you cry, what you look at when no one’s watching. That friend remembers your ex, your favorite drag queen, the videos that made you cry at 2 a.m. And one day, that friend leans in and whispers: post about your pronouns or call yourself queer one more time, and I’ll make you invisible.

That’s not a friend. That’s an algorithm. And it’s been quietly disappearing us for years.

Instagram blocked teens from searching #gay, #lesbian, #trans, #bisexual, and #pride for months in 2024 and called it a mistake. More than 50 LGBTQ+ organizations had their accounts disabled or shadow banned in 2025, from Amsterdam to Colombia to Drag Race Down Under. Then on January 7, 2025, Mark Zuckerberg gutted hate speech protections across Meta. In writing, the new policy allows users to call us mentally ill. To call us abnormal. To refer to a trans person as “it.” To say we shouldn’t exist. The slur “tranny” is no longer classified as a slur.

Three days later Meta fired its entire DEI team. A few weeks earlier they had donated $1 million to Trump’s inaugural fund.

This episode lays it all out. The censorship, the political pivot, the free speech lie, the human cost.

Stay or go. That’s your choice. Only now you have more information to make it.

-David

Resources

Segment 1: The Erasure — “They Made Us Invisible”

Instagram blocking LGBTQ+ hashtags for teens

• Instagram Blocked Teens From Searching LGBTQ-Related Content — User Magazine
  usermag.co/p/instagram-blocked-teens-from-searching

• Instagram Blocked Teens From Searching LGBTQ Content for Months — The Advocate
  advocate.com/news/instagram-blocked-teens-lgbtq

• Instagram Is in Hot Water for Blocking LGBTQ+ Content — Fast Company
  fastcompany.com/91256358/instagram-is-in-hot-water-for-blocking-lgbtq-content

Instagram flagging trans ads as “escort services”

• Why Did Instagram Confuse These Ads Featuring LGBTQ People for Escort Ads? — Rolling Stone
  rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/instagram-transgender-sex-workers-857667/

50+ LGBTQ+ organizations banned or shadow-banned globally (2025)

• Meta’s Global Censorship of Abortion and Queer Content— Repro Uncensored / The Guardian
  reprouncensored.org/research-overview/research/ru-guardian-meta-censorship)

• Meta Allegedly Restricted or Removed More Than 50 Organizations’ Accounts — Business & Human Rights Resource Centre
  business-humanrights.org/en/latest-news/global-meta-allegedly-restricted-or-removed-more-than-50-organisations-accounts-linked-to-abortion-advice-and-queer-content

Spankie Jackzon account locked

• Spankie Jackzon Is the Latest Queer Creative Targeted in Sweeping Meta Ban — Q News
  qnews.com.au/spankie-jackzon-is-the-latest-queer-creative-targeted-in-sweeping-meta-ban

Segment 2: The Sellout — “Zuckerberg Bent the Knee

Zuckerberg’s political pivot

• How Mark Zuckerberg Pivoted Meta to the Right — NBC News
  nbcnews.com/tech/social-media/mark-zuckerberg-pivoted-meta-right-rcna186687

• Mark Zuckerberg’s Shift Right Was Months in the Making — NBC News
  nbcnews.com/politics/mark-zuckerbergs-shift-right-months-making-politics-desk-rcna186861

Meta’s $1 million donation to Trump’s inauguration

• Meta Donates $1 Million to Trump’s Inaugural Fund — CNN
  cnn.com/2024/12/11/tech/meta-trump-donation-hnk-intl/index.html

• Trump Inauguration Donors Include Meta, Amazon, Target, Delta, Ford — CNBC
  cnbc.com/2025/04/23/trump-inauguration-donors-include-meta-amazon-target-delta-ford.html

Joel Kaplan promoted to head of global affairs

• Meta Will Appoint Republican Joel Kaplan to Lead Global Policy Team — Semafor
  semafor.com/article/01/02/2025/meta-will-appoint-joel-kaplan-to-lead-global-policy-team-replacing-nick-clegg

• Meta Promotes GOP-Affiliated Exec Joel Kaplan — Variety
  variety.com/2025/digital/news/meta-joel-kaplan-global-affairs-trump-1236264252

January 7, 2025: Hate speech policy gutted

• Meta’s New Hate Speech Rules Allow Users to Call LGBTQ+ People “Mentally Ill” — NBC News
  nbcnews.com/tech/social-media/meta-new-hate-speech-rules-allow-users-call-lgbtq-people-mentally-ill-rcna186700

• What LGBTQ+ People Should Know About Meta’s New Rules — The Advocate
  advocate.com/news/meta-policies-lgbtq-attacks

• Meta’s New Policies: How They Endanger LGBTQ+ Communities — Human Rights Campaign
  hrc.org/news/metas-new-policies-how-they-endanger-lgbtq-communities-and-our-tips-for-staying-safe-online

• GLAAD Response: Meta Removes Anti-LGBTQ Hate Speech Policies — GLAAD
  glaad.org/releases/meta-removes-anti-lgbtq-hate-speech-policies-ends-fact-checking

Meta’s Community Standards (direct source)

• Meta Community Standards — Hate Speech — Meta Transparency Center
  transparency.meta.com/policies/community-standards/hate-speech

Meta eliminates DEI programs

• Meta Ends Its DEI Programs — CNN
  cnn.com/2025/01/10/tech/meta-ends-dei-programs

• Read the Memo: Meta Announces End of Its DEI Programs — CNBC
  cnbc.com/2025/01/10/read-the-memo-meta-announces-end-of-its-dei-programs.html

Meta’s Oversight Board warns about Community Notes

• Meta’s Oversight Board Warns Community Notes Aren’t a Proper Substitute for Fact-Checking — Nieman Journalism Lab
  niemanlab.org/2026/03/metas-oversight-board-warns-that-community-notes-arent-a-proper-substitute-for-fact-checking-globally

Segment 3: The Lie — “Free Speech Is Not What They Think It Is”

Zuckerberg’s January 2025 announcement

• Meta: More Speech and Fewer Mistakes — Meta Official Blog
  about.fb.com/news/2025/01/meta-more-speech-fewer-mistakes

• Meta Ends Fact-Checking Program — NBC News
  nbcnews.com/tech/social-media/meta-ends-fact-checking-program-community-notes-x-rcna186468

• Transcript: Mark Zuckerberg Announces Major Changes — Tech Policy Press
  techpolicy.press/transcript-mark-zuckerberg-announces-major-changes-to-metas-content-moderation-policies-and-operations

The First Amendment applies to government, not private companies

• Manhattan Community Access Corp. v. Halleck (2019) — Supreme Court Opinion — U.S. Supreme Court
  supremecourt.gov/opinions/18pdf/17-1702_h315.pdf

• Platforms Have a First Amendment Right to Curate Speech, NetChoice Ruling — EFF
  eff.org/deeplinks/2024/07/platforms-have-first-amendment-right-curate-speech-weve-long-argued-supreme-1

Meta removes 99% of ISIS/al-Qaeda content proactively

• Dangerous Organizations and Individuals Policy — Meta Transparency Center
  transparency.meta.com/features/dangerous-orgs-and-individuals

Analysis of Meta’s “free speech” framing

• Meta’s Free Speech Myth Places Democracy at Risk — LSE Business Review
  blogs.lse.ac.uk/businessreview/2025/01/28/metas-free-speech-myth-places-democracy-at-risk

• How Meta Turned Its Back on Human Rights — Tech Policy Press
  techpolicy.press/how-meta-turned-its-back-on-human-rights

• Zuckerberg’s Updated Recipe: Prioritize Speech, Neglect Human Rights — OpenGlobalRights
  openglobalrights.org/zuckerbergs-updated-recipe-for-meta-prioritize-speech-and-neglect-human-rights

”Free speech” historically weaponized against marginalized communities

• The Civil Rights Movement Is a Reminder That Free Speech Is There to Protect the Weak — ACLU
  aclu.org/news/free-speech/civil-rights-movement-reminder-free-speech-there-protect-weak

Sarah Kate Ellis / GLAAD statements

• GLAAD Statement on Anti-LGBTQ Hate Speech and DEI Changes — GLAAD
  glaad.org/releases/glaad-anti-lgbtq-hate-speech-dei

Segment 4: The Damage — “What It Actually Costs Us”

Trevor Project research on LGBTQ+ youth and online safety

• New Study Shows LGBTQ Youth Mental Health Crisis Is Worsening in the U.S. — The Trevor Project (source for anxiety/depression/suicidal ideation statistics in script)
  thetrevorproject.org/blog/new-study-shows-lgbtq-youth-mental-health-crisis-is-worsening-in-the-u-s

• Online Experiences and Mental Health of LGBTQ+ Young People — The Trevor Project
  thetrevorproject.org/research-briefs/online-experiences-and-mental-health-of-lgbtq-young-people

• Bullying and Suicide Risk Among LGBTQ Youth — The Trevor Project
  thetrevorproject.org/research-briefs/bullying-and-suicide-risk-among-lgbtq-youth

• The Trevor Project Research Hub — The Trevor Project
  thetrevorproject.org/research

Cyberbullying statistics

• Cyberbullying Statistics by Age, Gender, Sexual Orientation, Race — Cyberbullying Research Center
  cyberbullying.org/cyberbullying-statistics-age-gender-sexual-orientation-race

Frances Haugen / Meta’s internal research on teen harm

• What a Facebook Whistleblower Told the Senate About Teen Mental Health — NPR
  npr.org/2021/10/05/1043194385/whistleblowers-testimony-facebook-instagram

• Meta’s Official Response on Teen Well-Being Research — Meta
  about.fb.com/news/2021/09/research-teen-well-being-and-instagram

Instagram body image and gay men

• Male Body Image Portrayals on Instagram — Cyberpsychology, Behavior, and Social Networking
  liebertpub.com/doi/10.1089/cyber.2019.0368

GLAAD: 75% increase in harmful content, 77% feel less safe

• Make Meta Safe: New Report Finds Increase in Harmful Content — GLAAD
  glaad.org/make-meta-safe-new-report-finds-increase-in-harmful-content-targeting-marginalized-groups-following-policy-rollbacks

Social media as double-edged sword for LGBTQ+ youth

• Social Media: A Double-Edged Sword for LGBTQ+ Youth — Computers in Human Behavior (ScienceDirect)
  sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0747563224000621

• Social Media Use and Health of LGBTQ Youth: Systematic Review — Journal of Medical Internet Research (PMC)
  pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9536523

GLAAD Social Media Safety Index

• 2025 Social Media Safety Index: Meta Platforms — GLAAD
  glaad.org/smsi/2025/meta-platforms

Segment 5: We Built That — Community and Connection

70% of LGBTQ+ teens found supportive networks online

• The Online Experiences of LGBTQ+ Youth — Digital Wellness Lab
  digitalwellnesslab.org/research-briefs/the-online-experiences-of-lgbtq-youth

• Social Media Gives Support to LGBTQ Youth When In-Person Communities Are Lacking — The Conversation
  theconversation.com/social-media-gives-support-to-lgbtq-youth-when-in-person-communities-are-lacking-166253

Social media as protective factor for LGBTQ+ well-being

• Can Social Media Participation Enhance LGBTQ+ Youth Well-Being? — Social Media + Society (SAGE Journals)
  journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2056305121988931

Kornerz Social Network

• Check out - Kornerz is a space for thinkers, an exclusive safe haven for authentic interactions, a paid-member only social network for those who value depth and quality.

Organizations to Support

• GLAAD — Media advocacy and accountability
  https://glaad.org

• The Trevor Project — Crisis intervention and suicide prevention for LGBTQ+ youth
  https://www.thetrevorproject.org

• ACLU — Legal advocacy and civil liberties
  https://www.aclu.org

• Human Rights Campaign — LGBTQ+ civil rights advocacy
  https://www.hrc.org

Crisis Resources

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

• The Trevor Project: Call 1-866-488-7386 or text START to 678-678

• 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Call or text 988

• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

A Queer POV: Friends, Loves, & Life with David
You can listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Substack, and YouTube.
And if you enjoy it, please leave a review—it helps more than you know.

Connect with me on BlueSky

PS: When I’m not podcasting, I also make wedding, birthday, and anniversary cake toppers. (Yes, really.)
Take a peek at the shop: Taylor Street Favors

We were young when we met, life pulled us in different directions, and then a few years ago we reconnected. Getting to know them now, I’ve discovered someone that I truly love spending time with.

In this episode of A Queer POV, Kenny talks about living with HIV since they were 21. About nearly 28 years of sobriety, a relapse in June of 2025, and getting sober again. About identifying as non-binary after 50 years of calling themselves male, and what it took to finally examine why that never fit. About trauma, about community, about forgiveness that has nothing to do with the other person.

In August of 1986 Kenny was told they had four months to live. They had just turned 21. The doctor looked at the numbers, looked at how Kenny described living, and said four months. That was it.

Their only response? All my friends get six months. Why do I only get four months?

The dark humor. The defiance. The refusal to collapse even in the worst moment.

At 21 Kenny thought they deserved to die. Not as a passing dark thought, but at their core. Because of things said to them as a child, because of how the gay community was treated, because of how the HIV community was treated.

“I’m not just a punchline,” they said. “I’m part of like Hitler’s final solution. Let’s wipe this group out.”

And they believed it.

This episode covers a lot of ground: HIV, sobriety, non-binary identity, and radical survival.

You can find A Queer POV wherever you listen to podcasts. If this episode moved you, please share it. Leave a review. Send it to someone who needs it.

And as always, be bold, be free, and most of all, be you.

-David

A Queer POV: Friends, Loves, & Life with David
You can listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Substack, and YouTube.
And if you enjoy it, please leave a review—it helps more than you know.

Connect with me on BlueSky

PS: When I’m not podcasting, I also make wedding, birthday, and anniversary cake toppers. (Yes, really.)
Take a peek at the shop: Taylor Street Favors

Over the past year, I’ve watched him take charge of his life. He made decisions that most people would talk themselves out of, and at 62 he powered through every one of them. We’ve had a lot of conversations about life and change, about what it takes to start over. And I kept thinking, this guy needs to be on the show. His story is exactly what A Queer POV is about.

This episode is about reinvention. The real kind. The kind where you walk away from a 16-year marriage, give up the house, the safety net, the comfort, and start over alone at 62 because the life you built wasn’t yours anymore.

Mark talks about all of it. The marriage that worked on paper but left him unfulfilled. The role he played as the supportive husband while his own passions went quiet. The moment he and his ex-husband looked at each other and decided it was over. Not with anger. With love. They still talk every day. They’re still friends. That’s who Mark is.

But his story goes back further than a divorce. Mark contracted HIV almost 35 years ago. His partner at the time died in his arms two days after Mark’s 30th birthday. In 1992, that was a death sentence. You didn’t plan a future. You lived whatever you had left. Mark didn’t think he’d make it past 35.

Because of AIDS, a lot of us weren’t supposed to be here. Our generation lost so many men that we didn’t have a blueprint for what growing older as a queer man even looks like. Like the rest of us, Mark is figuring that out day by day.

He’s 62 now. Healthier than he was 20 years ago. And he just went back to school. I watched him do it. Every day in the gym lounge after lifting, books open, nine weeks straight. He became a certified personal trainer. Got an A on the final. He rediscovered that he loves learning, that he’s good at it, that he’d set that part of himself aside for years without realizing it.

There’s a moment in this conversation where Mark says “I’m proud of myself” and you can hear that he means it.

This one’s for anyone who thinks starting over has an expiration date. It doesn’t.

Share this episode with someone who needs to hear it. That’s how we take care of each other.

Be bold, be free, and most of all, be you.

-- David

It took me a while to understand that showing up was the protest.

This episode started as a conversation about the No Kings protest on March 28th. And it is about that. But it became something bigger as I wrote it. It became about the full arc of queer protest, from a handful of people standing outside Independence Hall in 1965, to Stonewall, to ACT UP, to the fight for marriage equality, to five million people in the streets last June. I wanted to talk about why those sixty years of fighting for our equality is tied to No Kings.

I wanted to trace that line because I think we forget how long we’ve been doing this. And I think some people, especially younger people who came of age after Obergefell, might not know the history at all. Annual Reminder Day. The Mattachine Society sip-in at Julius’ Bar. The State Liquor Authority ordering bars to refuse service to anyone they suspected of being gay. ACT UP shutting down Wall Street while the government pretended a plague wasn’t happening.

These are not abstract historical events. These are the direct connections of every right we have today. And the people who did those things, most of their names are gone. We don’t know them. But what they did, that survived.

The episode also connects our history to something happening right now. The No Kings movement isn’t a queer march. It’s a coalition. The Human Rights Campaign, the ACLU, the AFL-CIO, over 200 organizations standing together. When I was at the Palm Springs No Kings protest last year, I looked around and it wasn’t just our community. It was everyone. Families, workers, veterans, immigrants. That’s new. That’s what greater solidarity looks like.

And I talk about anger. Because I think a lot of people are angry right now and don’t know what to do with it. I’ve been angry for forty years. The trick isn’t to stop being angry. It’s to aim it. Walk it into the street. Stand next to someone. Let them see how many of us there are.

I close with Harvey Milk, because “You gotta give them hope.” He said that in 1978, thinking about a kid in Altoona, Pennsylvania, who had never seen a queer person stand up and say: I’m here. That was forty-eight years ago. And it’s still as powerful a message today as it was then.

March 28th. Show up. Be seen. Be counted.

All the sources and links are in the show notes below. Read them. Share the episode. And if you’re out protesting on Saturday, be safe.

— David

Resources:

No Kings — Find your event or host one: nokings.org

No Kings: Know Your Rights: nokings.org/kyr

Human Rights Campaign: hrc.org

Scott Galloway: Resist and Unsubscribe: resistandunsubscribe.com

Fast Company: “Being Gay Feels Like a Liability Again”

PBS: Milestones in the American Gay Rights Movement

Library of Congress: The Stonewall Uprising

ACLU: How ACT UP Changed the Face of AIDS and Activism

Harvey Milk’s Hope Speech (1978) — Voices of Democracy, University of Maryland

A Queer POV: “They’re Coming for the Ring” (Marriage Equality Episode)

I was going through the Hensley filing. Judge Dianne Hensley, the Waco justice of the peace who refused to marry same-sex couples and then sued when she got in trouble for it. And I got to the part where her lawyer argues that Obergefell v. Hodges was wrongly decided and should be overturned entirely.

And I thought: I know this lawyer.

Jonathan Mitchell is the architect of Texas’ 2021 abortion ban. That ban worked. Roe v. Wade fell a year later. And now he’s coming for marriage.

He’s not being clever this time the way he was with Roe v. Wade. With the abortion ban, he engineered around the courts, enlisting private citizens to do the enforcing. This time he’s going straight at them. Calling our marriages made up. Which tells me he thinks he knows exactly what court he’s walking into.

Derek and I got married in 2016. We’d been together for 10 years by then, and when Obergefell passed in 2015, we finally had the right to make it official. I remember what that felt like. Not just the wedding, but the shift. The way it changed how we moved through the world together. No longer just partners in our own eyes. Recognized. Counted. Real in the eyes of the law. No matter where we entered or exited moments, in a hospital room, signing a legal document, or in an emergency, we weren’t just partners anymore. We were family in the eyes of the law.

That’s what’s at stake. Not a symbol. A legal reality that protects real lives.

I am angry. I say that in the episode and I mean it. The idea that there’s a strategy, a lawyer, a coalition, a playbook, to undo my marriage... that’s not abstract. That’s my life. And frankly, I find the whole thing rather rude.

The truth is more complicated than just the threat. There are real protections in place. There are real legal roadblocks. And our community has always found a way to keep living and building and fighting, usually all at the same time.

That’s the balance I was trying to hold.

Please give it a listen. Not because I made it. Because this is moving quietly. The more people who understand the strategy behind it, the harder it is for it to move that way.

All the sources are linked in the show notes. Read them. Share the episode. And check in on your queer friends, especially the ones in red states, in small towns, in places where the legislature is not on their side.

We’re not done fighting. We never really stopped.

— David

Sources used in researching the episode: I encourage you to read further and come to your own conclusions.

The Hensley Lawsuit

• Texas Tribune — Waco judge asks federal courts to overturn same-sex marriage — https://www.texastribune.org/2025/12/19/texas-judge-same-sex-marriage-supreme-court-obergefell/

Primary source. The most detailed and credible reporting on the lawsuit, Mitchell’s strategy, and the legal arguments.

• LGBTQ Nation — Texas judge asks federal court to end marriage equality nationwide — https://www.lgbtqnation.com/2025/12/texas-judge-asks-federal-court-to-end-marriage-equality-nationwide/

Community-focused coverage with additional context on the history of the case going back to 2015.

• Instinct Magazine — Waco Judge Challenges Supreme Court Ruling on Same-Sex Marriage — https://instinctmagazine.com/waco-judge-challenge-same-sex-marriage

Notes that Hensley is not the only Texas judge filing this type of lawsuit — there is a pattern.

• First Liberty Institute — Judge Dianne Hensley Case Page — https://firstliberty.org/cases/judge-dianne-hensley/

The conservative legal organization representing Hensley. Included so you can understand how the other side frames this argument.

The Respect for Marriage Act

• NPR — What does the Respect for Marriage Act do? — https://www.npr.org/2022/12/08/1140808263/what-does-the-respect-for-marriage-act-do-the-answer-will-vary-by-state

The clearest explainer on what the law does and doesn’t protect — and why the answer varies by state.

• Human Rights Watch — US Congress Protects Right to Marry — https://www.hrw.org/news/2022/12/08/us-congress-protects-right-marry

Covers the federal benefits protected by the Act: immigration, taxes, hospital visitation, Social Security, and more.

• Whitman-Walker Health — Respect for Marriage Act Secures Marriage Equality — https://www.whitman-walker.org/respect-for-marriage-act/

Written specifically for LGBTQ+ people. Addresses what happens to existing marriages if Obergefell were overturned.

The Dobbs Parallel & Justice Thomas

• Wikipedia — Respect for Marriage Act (see section on Dobbs concurrence) — https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Respect_for_Marriage_Act

Includes Justice Clarence Thomas’s concurring opinion in Dobbs, where he explicitly called on the Court to reconsider Obergefell.

Historical Context: Loving v. Virginia

• Oyez — Loving v. Virginia (1967) — https://www.oyez.org/cases/1966/395

The Supreme Court case that made interracial marriage legal nationwide. The arguments used against it mirror those used against same-sex marriage today.

Project 2025's "Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise"

• Page 451: https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24088042-project-2025s-mandate-for-leadership-the-conservative-promise/#document/p483

• Page 479: https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24088042-project-2025s-mandate-for-leadership-the-conservative-promise/#document/p511

Connect With the Show

If this episode resonated with you, share it with someone who needs to hear it. That’s how we take care of each other.

I don’t know you personally, but I know of you. I know you as the United States Attorney General, serving as the head of the Department of Justice and the chief law enforcement officer of the federal government. Previously as the Florida Attorney General. I’ve read the statements issued in your name, watched you testify before Congress.

From where I sit I can see the tentacles of shame have wrapped themselves around your heart. Draining you of love, erasing empathy, killing compassion.

As you sat in your seat before Congress, I watched you thumb through your book. That private catalog where you’ve organized individualized insults for each adversary, flash cards of cruelty customized to match your opponents. Even during congressional hearings, you return to those pages, fingers tracing your arsenal of personal attacks. Studying them. Rehearsing them. Ready to deploy the precise insult that will cut deepest.

The pettiness of it is staggering. Here you sit, in a position of immense responsibility, and you’re leafing through schoolyard taunts like a child planning revenge on the playground. The insults themselves are childish, unimaginative. They make you sound incompetent, small, utterly unequal to the office you hold.

When asked to turn and face the victims of your coverups, you cower and flip through your flash cards for a lethal zinger. Rather than accountability, you offer performance. Rather than answers, you deliver rehearsed cruelty. The victims sit there, waiting for acknowledgment, for justice, for some sign that their suffering matters. And you’re rifling through pages looking for the right insult to deflect attention from your failure to protect them.

You’ve aligned yourself with powerful men whose transgressions you help to manage, whose scandals you help to bury, whose victims disappear into the machinery of legal maneuvering and strategic silence. Each time you provide cover for cruelty, each time you shield wrongdoing from consequence, something happens to you. There’s a hardening that occurs, a coarsening that shows in your expressions, in the way you speak, in the quality of presence you bring to your public role.

I don’t mean physical appearance. I mean the ugliness that seeps in when we absorb the cruelty of others, when we make ourselves vessels for their misdeeds. You carry their skeletons now. And you’ve added your own contribution: your catalog of calculated cruelty, your system for inflicting maximum damage. You’ve become the predator’s guardian.

Your office holds tremendous influence. You are the people's lawyer, sworn to serve their interests, to pursue justice on their behalf, to hold the powerful accountable, to stand as a barrier between predators and their prey. Instead, you've become something else entirely: a guardian not of the vulnerable, but of those who harm them. A protector not of truth, but of its concealment. Someone who brings flash cards of insults to Congress.

We the people see the tentacles tighten with each compromise, each moment you choose expedience over principle. They feed on the widening gap between the person you once hoped to be and the role you’ve agreed to play. And they convince you that your book of insults is smart preparation, that your critics are naive, that the distance you feel from your former convictions, if there were any, is maturity rather than moral erosion.

The skeletons you bury aren’t abstractions. They represent real harm, real victims, real consequences that you’ve chosen to enable through your protection of those responsible. You’ve made choices that have had deadly consequences for some and impunity for others. That’s not speculation. It’s the visible record of your tenure.

Start today. Refuse the next cover-up, name the next wrongdoing, choose truth over expediency. Release ALL of the Epstein files. Un-redacted. It’s not too late to close that book of personalized attacks. Not too late to face the victims with honesty instead of hiding behind flash cards. The cost would be real. Some of your current allies would abandon you, some doors would close. But you’d finally be able to look in the mirror without seeing the accumulated weight of all those buried skeletons reflected back at you.

The tentacles only have the power you continue to grant them. But you’ve granted them so much already: your integrity, your moral clarity, the person you might have been.

Somewhere beneath the hardening, beneath the ugliness of absorbed cruelty, beneath the catalog of grievances and flash cards of insults you consult even in the halls of power, there might still be the person who once believed that power should serve something higher than itself.

The question is whether you can find her again.

Always-in-fifth-place Riley Gaines wants you to stop feeling compassion. Let that sink in for a moment. Let that truly sink in.

Renée Good was a 37-year-old U.S. citizen and mother who had just dropped her child at school. As her car moved forward on January 7th, ICE agent Jonathan Ross shot her three times, with the fatal shot entering her temple. The federal government called her a domestic terrorist. Alex Pretti was a 37-year-old ICU nurse. Federal agents pepper-sprayed him, wrestled him to the ground, and shot him ten times on January 24th. He was trying to help people. He was filming what was happening.

And after all of this, Riley Gaines and her crew are telling their followers that compassion will “cloud your critical thinking.” They’re teaching you to kill your own empathy.

Vying for most-hated woman of the year in a crowded field in the womanosphere, Megyn Kelly said it out loud: “I know I’m supposed to feel sorry for Alex Pretti, but I don’t. I don’t.” Her reasoning? She wasn't shot because she stayed inside and minded her business. That’s her logic. A nurse trying to help people deserved to die because he didn’t stay home and look away. This is what they’re selling you. This is the cruelty dressed up as strength.

This is also a woman who defended Jeffrey Epstein's taste for "15-year-old girls" as "barely legal." When you're this desperate to stay relevant, apparently defending pedophiles and mocking dead nurses is just part of the job.

The Christian Nationalism Con

Here’s what kills me. A lot of these same people wrap themselves up in Christianity. They talk about faith and family and moral values. But FFS where’s Jesus in any of this?

These are the people who literally paraded a golden statue of Trump at CPAC. They’re the golden calf worshipers from Exodus, lecturing you about faith.

Jesus didn’t say “Love your neighbor unless they’re undocumented.” He didn’t say “Show mercy after you check their papers.” The Good Samaritan didn’t ask for documentation. When Christ said “I was a stranger and you welcomed me,” there wasn’t fine print about visa requirements.

Christian nationalism is selling you a lie. It tells you that faith and compassion are opposites. That you have to choose between being strong and being kind. Between protecting yourself and being human.

But the gospel doesn’t tell you to harden your heart. It tells you to break it open.

And here's the darkest part: for many of them, the cruelty is the point. End Times theology teaches them that suffering and chaos are necessary preconditions for the Rapture. They're not trying to build a better world, they're trying to burn this one down so they can be chosen to rise with Jesus. Pastor John Pavlovitz, who spent decades inside evangelical megachurches, calls it what it is: not a civil war, but a Christian Nationalist holy war. He’s right.

They'll kill innocent people to get there. Somehow they think the God who said "Blessed are the peacemakers" wants them to create maximum suffering so he'll come back faster. That seems kinda fucked up if you ask me.

These people aren't offering you faith. They're offering you permission to be cruel.

Compassion Isn’t Stupid

To me, compassion doesn't mean you're naive. Empathy doesn't mean you can't think straight. Actually, it's the opposite.

When someone tells you to ignore the human cost of what’s happening, to look away from suffering, to treat your own conscience like it’s a weakness, that’s when you should pay the most attention. That’s when your compassion is telling you something important.

Cruelty only works if we stop seeing people as people. It needs us to accept simple stories about “threats” and “illegals” instead of dealing with the complicated reality that these are human beings. People trying to survive. People trying to help. People like Alex Pretti, shot ten times for caring.

The people telling you to shut off your empathy? They’re training you to accept the unacceptable.

You can think clearly and still feel deeply. When someone tells you that compassion is clouding your judgment, ask yourself: what are they trying to get me to accept that my conscience would normally reject?

Your empathy isn’t a weakness. It’s what keeps you human when the people in charge are trying to normalize cruelty.

Don’t let them take that from you.

What You Can Do

Resistance isn’t passive. On March 28, people across the country are standing up with a clear message: No Thrones, No Crowns, No Kings.

But you don’t have to wait until March. This week, there are coordinated actions happening nationwide:

• January 30th: National Shutdown - NO WORK. NO SCHOOL. NO SHOPPING. STOP FUNDING ICE.

• January 31st: ICE Out of Everywhere

• February 17th: Impeach, Convict, Remove, Defund

Find protests near you at fiftyfifty.one and nokings.org.

Silence isn't neutrality. It's a choice.

This is a moment to show up for Renée Good, for Alex Pretti, for every family being torn apart, for every person being dehumanized by this machinery of cruelty. Your presence matters. Your voice matters. Your refusal to accept this as normal matters.

Show up. Bring others. Let your compassion move you to action, not paralysis.

Your empathy is a weapon. Use it.

See you out there!

-David

I borrow this metaphor knowing that Achebe may not have intended it for LGBTQ liberation. But that's exactly how liberation works: powerful ideas about who gets to tell stories belong to all who've been silenced. We don’t need permission to see ourselves in frameworks about reclaiming narrative.

For too long, LGBTQ history has been written by those who sought to erase us, criminalize us, pathologize us, or simply pretend we didn’t exist. We’ve been the lions in someone else’s story, depicted as threats, disorders, sins, or footnotes unworthy of mention.

But I’m done being told our history by hunters.

The Hunters’ Version

When the hunters tell the story, here’s what gets recorded:

• Medical journals that labeled us as mentally ill

• Court records of our arrests for loving who we loved

• Newspaper accounts that called us perverts and deviants

• Religious texts used to justify our persecution

• “Experts” who claimed to cure us

• Laws that erased us from public view

Propaganda masquerading as fact. Fox News before there was a Fox News. And for generations, this was the only version that made it into textbooks, archives, and collective memory. This was our story told by the hunters. It still is.

When the Lions Speak

Everything changes when we tell our own stories.

We discover that we've always been here, in every culture, every era, every community. We find our ancestors: the two-spirit people honored in Indigenous cultures, Sappho of Lesbos and the poets of ancient Greece, the gender-nonconforming saints and scholars, the lovers who risked everything, the activists who fought back. We find Gilbert Baker, who in 1978 turned eight colors into a symbol of hope and defiance that waves at every Pride around the world.

And we’re documenting more than just our suffering. Our families, our weddings, our art, our community, our resilience. This is the joy they tried to keep invisible. We can no longer be silent and hidden in a world we deserve to live in equally.

The language once used to shame us? We've made it our own. What was meant to hurt us now makes us stronger. Queer. Dyke. These words are badges of pride now, not slurs. We wear them along with our rainbow pins. We stand together in the streets, at Pride, in our communities, waving rainbow flags, visible and unashamed. We shine brightly and we continue to thrive.

Why This Matters Now

The fight over who tells LGBTQ history isn’t academic. It’s happening right now in school boards, legislatures, and libraries across the country. And it’s escalating rapidly.

The Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 laid out an explicit blueprint for erasing LGBTQ people from public life. Now they’ve released their priorities for 2025-2026 under “Restoring America’s Promise,” and the specifics are chilling.

Their “Put Family First” section explicitly states that every child deserves to be born to a married mother and father, a direct attack on same-sex parents and LGBTQ families. They denounce what they call radical ideologies that deny social and biological truths about sexual embodiment and marriage, making their opposition to marriage equality unmistakable.

In education, they decry the scourge of what they term woke ideas like radical gender ideology, pushing to dismantle the Department of Education entirely. They want to systematically remove the terms sexual orientation, gender identity, diversity, equity, and inclusion from all federal rules, regulations, contracts, and grants.

This isn’t just policy. It’s erasure. The plan signals a deliberate effort to continue undermining same-sex marriage, eliminate gender-affirming care, and erase transgender people from public life and federal policy.

They’re characterizing our very existence (our families, our identities, our lives) as threats to children and American values. Our marriages aren’t “real families.” Our healthcare is “child abuse.” Our presence in schools is “pornographic ideology.”

Am I surprised by this continued assault on our existence? No. This is the hunters’ playbook, literally page by page: control the narrative, criminalize the identity, erase the history.

History is repeating itself. The Lavender Scare of the 1950s showed us what government-sanctioned erasure looks like. Stonewall showed us how we fight back.

The hunters understand something crucial: visibility equals power. If they can make us invisible again, if they can ensure that young LGBTQ people grow up never seeing themselves reflected in history or culture, if they can force us back into the closet through legislation and intimidation, then they win. We become the shameful secret again, the thing people whisper about, the identity people hide. I don’t know about you but I ain’t going back.

We’ve been here before. Stonewall wasn’t just a riot that “happened.” It was a rebellion led by trans women of color like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera who said “enough.” These are heroes not because they led a rebellion. They are heroes because they had had enough. Enough of being treated as if their lives didn’t matter. Enough of police raids and arrests for existing. Enough of a world that demanded they stay invisible while it profited from their labor, their art, their creativity - as long as they never claimed it as their own.

But here’s what they don’t understand: once the lions start telling their own stories, you can’t silence them again. We’ve tasted freedom. We’ve built families and communities. We’ve documented our history. We know we’ve always existed, and we’re not going back.

From hockey rinks to podcasts, from books to social media, our stories are being told. This is our moment.

Add your voice. Share your story. Post your truth. Get loud.

My Podcast’s Mission

That’s why “A Queer POV: Friends, Loves, & Life” exists. This isn’t just a podcast. It’s living history, the kind that happens when real people share their real stories. It’s also deeply personal.

I’ve lived through love and loss, joy and grief, doubt and growth, and I know I’m not alone in that. This space is my way of holding up a mirror to the lives we live and the community we build when we dare to show up as ourselves.

I’m learning too. Just this past year, while researching ideas for a Pride episode, I stumbled across the Chicago LGBTQ Hall of Fame and learned about Henry Gerber and the Society for Human Rights, history I’d never been taught. Through my interview with Sean McCormick I discovered contemporary heroes like Woody Baldwin, the founder of Prime Timers, an organization built for older gay men who were being pushed to the margins of our community. Every conversation teaches me something new about who we've been and who we're becoming.

I believe every person has a story worth hearing. I also believe that when we really listen to each other, we open ourselves up to empathy, healing, and maybe even transformation.

Every conversation we have, every story we share, every moment of joy and struggle we document becomes part of our collective archive. We are writing our own history, not to glorify ourselves, but to ensure that future generations know: we were here, we loved fiercely, we fought back, and we survived.

We are the lions with keyboards, microphones, and platforms. And we’re telling the truth about the hunt.

Join the Story

What part of LGBTQ history do you wish you’d learned earlier? What story from your own life deserves to be preserved? Whose perspective has been missing from the narrative?

I know that for some, telling their story is scary. Sharing trauma, coming out again and again, reliving painful memories, it takes courage. If you’re ready to share, this space is built on listening with empathy and open minds. Every story shared here is a gift of trust.

Let’s tell those stories together.

Because until every lion has spoken, the story isn’t complete.

Subscribe to stay connected as we explore who we are, our shared LGBTQ history, culture, and community from those who lived it, not those who tried to silence it.

Subscribe now

In this episode, Randy and I reconnect again to talk about creativity, loss, and what it means to sustain an artistic life across time. His career spans art direction roles at The Advocate, Genre, Hero, Home Magazine, and YM, plus 18 years teaching graphic design at FIDM. But more than credentials, Randy brings wisdom about the creative process—particularly his mantra that mistakes aren’t just acceptable, they’re essential.

Our conversation moves through the excitement of 1980s New York, where Randy worked alongside brilliant designers and editors, many of whom were lost to AIDS. We discuss his philosophy, and obsession, on typography (he once took type specimen books to lunch), his experiments with AI in music creation, the invisible burden of aging as a creative person, and why he wishes he’d gotten a business degree instead of relying solely on talent.

Randy is candid about regret, honest about ego, and generous with the lessons he’s learned. He talks about being fired for arrogance, the magazines that died around him, and why he still believes in doing things differently, even when it’s uncomfortable.

We talk about craft, survival, and what it takes to keep creating.

I hope you enjoy my conversation with Randy.

-David

RandyDunbar.com
PlanetHomo.com

This week I’m talking with 81-year-old Sean McCormick. He’s funny, he’s honest, and he’s got this huge heart that comes through in everything he says. I met Sean about three years ago, and we’ve become friends. When I started thinking about doing an episode on aging in the gay community, he felt like the perfect person to talk to.

Sean came out in the 1950s and 60s, way before being gay was something you could just say out loud. He remembers the coded looks, the piano bars like Kitty Sheehan’s in Chicago where he’d sing after a couple gin and tonics, the police raids, and the constant need to stay careful: to protect yourself and the people around you. He navigated being gay in the military during Vietnam, built a career as a deputy clerk in the appellate court, and found community in spaces that existed mostly in the margins.

He and his late husband Kent were together for 35 years: a relationship full of loyalty, adventure, travel, and deep companionship. After Kent died in 2019, Sean didn’t think he’d find that again. But then he met Arturo, and here he is at 81, still pursuing love. Still showing up. Still trying.

We talk about what it actually feels like to get older in a community that worships youth. Sean doesn’t sugarcoat it. He talks about feeling invisible at mixers, about the “cheerleader tables” that form even among older gay men, about how hard it is to put yourself out there when you’ve been rejected. But he also talks about the stuff that surprised him about aging: the confidence that comes with it, the clarity, the freedom of finally just being comfortable as yourself. “I’ve never felt so comfortable with myself,” he tells me. “Be me. Very simple. Be me.”

At the end, I ask Sean what he’d tell his younger self: that kid in the Army, or the guy just figuring out who he was. His answer comes fast: “It only gets better.”

This conversation reminded me that we’re strongest when we actually see each other across generations. When we listen. When we make room. Sean’s story is about perseverance and joy and the fact that becoming yourself doesn’t stop at any particular age. It just keeps going.

I’m really glad I got to share this one with you.

-David

Our paths cross just often enough to make you believe in fate, in the eternity of friendship—days forgiving of time, hours full of laughter and sun. For a while, you walk side by side thinking, Okay, maybe this is how it will be now.

Then you pause. It’s 25 years later. You stop and look around, and suddenly someone is gone.

That someone is my friend Rich Hajjar.

When I heard Rich died on Monday, my first reaction was raw and instinctive: No. I don’t believe it. That can’t be right... No.

It had been months since Rich and I last had a real conversation, the kind where time dissolves into laughter. As men of a certain age, we gathered around the usual topics: friend group gossip, comparing meds and reading glasses, eye rolls at aches and pains, and our customary post-modern despair about politics. Laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Life, as it does, kept us busy, him here and me there, each of us promising, “Soon, soon. Let’s get together soon.”

Still, we crossed paths: quick smiles at coffee shops, hugs in bars and street fairs, comments on each other’s posts. Occasional “Bitch please! 🙄,” “💯 Fuck um! 🤣,” or “Love you!😍” Emojis scattered about, overused, a bit awkward, a lot heartfelt.

With Rich, I never had to explain myself. We could pick up right where we left off, no matter how much time had passed or where we were on our journey. That kind of friendship is a home you return to, again and again, without needing directions. A well-worn road.

And yet here I am, thinking of the man who stood beside me 20 years ago on the most pivotal day of my life, the day I brought my two-month-old son home.

Long before that day in Pomona, before fatherhood was something I dared to consider, I met Rich and his husband Mike, not long after moving to Los Angeles in 2000. I rented office space in Silver Lake, above Akbar, with Mike. Before long, the three of us wove ourselves into a tight constellation. For a few years, we were inseparable, one of those friendships that feels like a secret club with its own language.

Rich could make me laugh out loud. Not a polite exhale, but a real laugh at life’s ridiculous curveballs, whether at the grocery store or a tough Monday.

In the early 2000s, we spent long afternoons at The Abbey, drinking martinis with a confidence I no longer possess and plotting marketing strategies for our little hookup website. Warm light, clinking glasses, conversations ranging from the ridiculous to the heartfelt. Those were the days that happen when you’re fully seen and fully loved.

Rich and Mike built a kind of love that spills outward, the kind you feel just by being near them. Some of my favorite memories are the three of us packed into a booth, laughing too loudly and loving each other like chosen family does.

When I decided to become a single dad, Rich stood by me without hesitation. He never wavered in his belief in me.

Then came the day we drove to Pomona to pick up my son.

Terrified, I clung to him. Literally and figuratively. He never let me drown in fear. He was a cheerleader, a brother, a lifeline. He stood with me as I stepped into fatherhood, as if he always knew I could do it.

My heart is with Mike and their family. Mike shared a life with Rich that the rest of us were lucky to witness, even if only briefly.

Losing Rich has made all of us reflect on what we build together in this community. How friendships become family, how queer life stitches together the most unlikely and beautiful support systems. Our makeshift families are built on a quiet agreement: we show up for each other as long as we can. And when someone can’t stay, we keep walking. Not because it’s easy, but because the road doesn’t stop for any of us.

What we must do is remember. Love. Laugh at the memory of martinis and ridiculous marketing meetings for a website we proudly created together. And be fiercely grateful our paths ever crossed.

Rich was my friend.
He helped me find my way to my son.
And I will miss him.

Salute to you, old friend. 🍸

-David

We meet Gilbert Baker, the artist and activist who stitched color into our collective soul, and explore how his friendship with Harvey Milk turned a simple idea into a lasting emblem of queer identity.

Along the way, I share stories of AIDS-era activism, the meaning of visibility, and what the flag has come to represent in my own life, especially as a gay parent raising a child in today’s world.

This isn’t just queer history.

It is a reminder that Pride began as protest, and that our strength has always come from showing up together.

🎧 Listen now and rediscover the beauty, defiance, and hope sewn into every color of the rainbow.

Hope to see you out in the streets this weekend at Palm Springs Pride!

-David

Resources:

Clip 1 - soundcloud.com/brainpicker
Clip 2 - cbc.ca/radio
Clip 3 - Outcast Media
Clip 4 - cbc.ca/radio

Art
Palm Springs Pride Monument, Created by jimisermann.com
Arenas District Landmark Flagpole

Mentioned at the top of show:
Out of the Blue by Robert Tregoning
Fletcher’s Ice Cream and Cafe
Hailey Bieber Unbothered

Dann’s been designing for almost four decades, and his work has this incredible mix of style, warmth, and personality. He’s an award-winning interior designer, a TV personality you might’ve seen on NBC’s American Dream Builders or Showtime’s The Real L Word, and the author of It’s All in the Mix: Designs for Living Well — which, honestly, sums up his whole approach to life.

From his early days surrounded by travel and creativity to now leading major design brands and creating hundreds of products, Dann has stayed grounded in one simple belief: that great design should feel personal, welcoming, and accessible, not intimidating.

He’s been named to Designers Today’s Power List and recently stepped into a new role as president of Harp & Finial, all while continuing to grow his own lifestyle brand. But what I love most about Dann is his energy, he just loves what he does, and that passion shows in everything he touches.

So today, we’re diving into his journey, how it all started, what keeps him inspired, and why “living well” is something we can all design for ourselves.

I hope you enjoy my conversation with Dann Foley.

-David

dannfoleylifestyle.com
Book: It’s All in the Mix: Designs for Living Well

Each October reminds me that our history isn’t just about looking back. It’s about asking how we keep that spirit alive now, how we protect each other and keep the pride alive when the rainbow starts to fade from the brands and institutions that once claimed to stand beside us.

Fifteen days into LGBTQ+ History Month, October’s rolling on with a bit of a chill this year, and not just the weather kind. It feels colder than ever now that so many companies who once flooded their socials with rainbows are keeping their allyship packed away. Apparently, a few DEI-triggered snowflakes were just too much for them to handle. Bless their fragile hearts.

Surprised? Yeah, me neither. Considering the state of things right now, it’s no wonder. We’ve gotten pretty good at spotting fair-weather allies. Still, it’s a bad look, and it makes you wonder: were they ever really on our side?

I don’t think so.

That’s why I keep coming back to where I spend my hard-earned dollars. Money talks, and where we spend it matters. Every time we buy something, we’re voting with our wallets, with our queer dollars, so why not make those votes count?

Supporting businesses that actually support us isn’t just a nice idea. It’s quiet and personal activism. Every purchase becomes a choice, a statement that says, “We see each other, we value what matters, and we’ll stand together.” I stopped buying from companies that bankroll hate or fund politicians who work to strip our rights away. It’s not about canceling them for their views. It’s about walking away because of my values. It’s not always convenient, but it’s powerful. Boycotts aren’t just about saying no; they’re about saying yes to something better.

Those small choices add up. They remind me that community isn’t built only in protests or parades. It’s built every time we choose each other. Every time we refuse to forget who we are, even when others do.

And we’ve seen how powerful that can be. Remember when folks canceled Disney+ over “freedom of speech”? Financial boycotting works. I’ve been more intentional about it lately, choosing to spend with queer-owned shops, local makers, and brands that actually show up all year, not just during Pride Month.

When a company takes a stand for LGBTQ+ rights, especially when it’s unpopular, I notice that—and I try to support them. Like Costco taking a stand on DEI. I’m now a proud Costco member! If you’re not sure where to start, there are some great tools out there like Goods Unite Us to see where brands put their money, or Intentionalist and Everywhere is Queer to find queer-owned and allied businesses.

Even small choices count. Sharing a queer business on social media, leaving a review, or just telling a friend helps more than you might think. We don’t have to wait around for corporate allyship when we can build our own network of support, one rooted in community, not marketing.

And maybe that’s the real spirit of LGBTQ+ History Month. The reminder that our strength has always come from showing up for one another through action, creativity, and care.

Every year around this time we’re asked to remember, to write, update, and debate our history. Not for nostalgia, but for survival. Every story, every hard-won victory, every awkward brunch and glitter-soaked protest is part of the living record that keeps our community alive.

Because the stakes are still sky high. There are folks out there trying to make our history smaller, quieter, and easier to ignore.

Lately, it feels like our rainbow is being shrunk on purpose. The push from the Trump Administration to strip “TQ+” from “LGBTQ+” isn’t some innocent typo. It’s deliberate. It’s an attempt to erase trans, nonbinary, and queer people, tossing them aside like used glow sticks after Pride.

And that’s not just disappointing.

It’s dangerous.

It’s segregation by another name.

“Separate but equal” has never led to liberation.

What’s worse is seeing parts of our own community cheering the split. The idea that peeling off into neat little “LGB-only” boxes somehow makes us more “respectable” is heartbreaking. It’s the same old exclusion wrapped in a fresh coat of self-preservation, and it betrays everything LGBTQ+ History Month stands for. We don’t owe tolerance to intolerance. Our existence doesn’t depend on making anyone comfortable. Real progress requires standing shoulder to shoulder, not shrinking to fit someone else’s limits.

Scratch beneath the Log Cabin talking points, or the gaslighting coming from Republicans who want to rewrite queer history to make it fit their politics, and you’ll find the stories we’re meant to remember. Marsha P. Johnson flinging bricks at Stonewall, Audre Lorde, the self-described “black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet,” wielding poetry as resistance, and William Dorsey Swann, the first known American activist to identify as a “queen of drag,” along with so many more. Authors, activists, poets, politicians, sports figures, and movie stars—there are too many to count who identify somewhere on the spectrum of rainbow. They can try to erase us, but those stories survive because we refuse to forget them. We hold them close, cherishing the lessons they teach about who we are and where we came from.

That’s why history matters. It tells the truth when polite society looks away. It reminds us that inclusion wasn’t a late add-on. It was the whole point. When we keep our history honest, messy, and real, we build armor for the next generation. We show them that every identity, trans, bi, ace, pan, genderqueer, and more, is vital. None of us move forward unless all of us do. It’s like a Kelly Clarkson anthem playing on repeat inside your brain: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” (You’re welcome!) Stand a little taller, prouder, and stronger together.

Chosen family is the heartbeat of queer life. You find it in activism, in drag shows, in neighborhood bars, in coffeehouses, gyms, nightclubs, broken hearts, and those quiet, intimate moments of bear hugs and air kisses. It’s all about creating a place to belong, building a tribe. No one sends official invites, but somehow we find each other. That’s the real legacy worth protecting, from coming out to connection, from joy to stubborn hope.

And we owe a thank you to Rodney Wilson, Missouri’s first openly gay public school teacher, who dreamed up LGBTQ+ History Month and made sure our stories wouldn’t be erased. Every October, we honor both the icons and the unsung heroes by telling the whole messy, beautiful story.

If we lose our history, we lose our backbone. If we fracture, we lose each other. LGBTQ+ History Month reminds us not to settle for the smallest possible club, because the rainbow deserves every color, every story, and every ounce of our solidarity.

So as we look back, it’s also a reminder to keep that legacy going—to spend queerly, support loudly, and invest in each other’s futures. The history we honor this month is still being written, one purchase, one post, one act of care at a time.

Be bold, be free, and most of all, be you.

-David

P.S. No Thrones. No Crowns. No Kings. I hope to see you all out on October 18th at a No Kings Protest! Find your event here: www.nokings.org

As October 11th, National Coming Out Day, approaches, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on what coming out really means, not only for those of us who’ve done it, but for those who are still waiting for the right time, or the right safety, or the right words.

In this episode, I look back on conversations I’ve had through Friends, Loves, & Life and revisit stories from people who opened their hearts and trusted me with their truth, people like Gregg, Alex, Mike, Rich, Stephen, and James. Each one reminds me that while coming out can be scary, it’s also powerful. It builds bridges. It saves lives. It connects us to our chosen family, the people who see us, love us, and remind us that we belong.

For some, family is where the story begins. For others, it’s what we build along the way. Either way, the act of coming out, whether whispered, shouted, or simply lived, is a kind of rebirth.

I share a bit of my own story, too, and the relief that came when my father hugged me and told me he loved me after I said the words, “Yes, I’m gay.” That moment changed everything.

Because when we live as ourselves, we not only free our own hearts, we light the way for others to do the same.

-David

Back in the early 1990s, while working as a health educator at Columbia University, Deb co-created Go Ask Alice, one of the very first online spaces where young people could ask their most personal questions about sex, drugs, and relationships, and get real, thoughtful answers. Long before the rest of the world caught up, Deb understood that people needed safe, honest, and judgment-free access to information.

Her work didn’t stop there. She went on to found ISIS (Internet Sexuality Information Services), later known as YTH—Youth Tech Health—an organization that broke new ground by connecting technology, public health, and community voices. Deb has always seen that sexuality and health don’t exist in isolation, they’re deeply tied to our relationships, mental health, and the way we care for one another.

What I admire most about Deb is her humanity. She has always approached her work with courage, humor, and compassion. She’s been a fierce ally to the LGBTQ community, helping to create spaces where our stories and health truly matter. And I’m lucky enough to call her not only a mentor, but also a friend.

In our conversation, Deb shares stories about her early days as a Deadhead, her nonlinear way of thinking, the battles she fought to get institutions to listen, and her commitment to making sure people have the knowledge they need to live healthier, freer lives.

Deb has such a unique way of looking at the world, and I can’t wait for you to hear her perspective.

🎙️ I hope you enjoy my conversation with Deb Levine.

-David

Deb Levine, MA. www.linkedin.com/in/deblevine/

But if I stay there, if any of us stay there, I become part of the cycle, and nothing changes.

It’s impossible to talk about America’s epidemic of violence without naming its architects. When Sandy Hook happened, the nation mourned while Republicans did nothing. Their refusal to act, to attempt meaningful solutions, fermented violence into the soul of this country. Instead, they offered thoughts and prayers—the political equivalent of nothing. With every shooting since, the body count has continued to climb and the only response has been more empty sentiments.

This cycle is not accidental. It is a pattern. Republicans have chosen denial and responsibility avoidance at every turn.

Under Donald Trump’s leadership, the party elevated resentment, division, and hatred. His rhetoric didn’t just ignore the violence. It gave permission and protection to an entire movement. Across the country, ordinary Americans now live with the fallout, the fear, the trauma, the gnawing sense that nowhere is truly safe.

When pressed for action, Republican leaders like Speaker Mike Johnson are quick to condemn violence as “detestable” and call for moments of silence and prayers, insisting “this is not who we are” when the victims are on their side. Faith is wielded as a shield, not to protect the vulnerable, but to insulate those responsible. But when Democratic leaders like Minnesota’s Melissa Hortman and her husband were assassinated and other Democrats faced targeted threats, the GOP’s response was far more muted, lacking the same urgency, outrage, or calls for national unity. These words and the prayers they offer ring hollow in a nation plagued by repeated tragedy. Policy action gets lost in culture wars, and real solutions are drowned out by manufactured outrage over bathroom access or library books. Republicans drive the cross ever deeper into the heart of the nation, all while watching it bleed and blaming everyone but themselves for the carnage their choices create. These are not Christians. They are zealots cloaked in faith, weaponizing religion to excuse indifference and cruelty.

Their refusal to reckon with gun violence and political hate is not just cowardice. It is calculus.

When leaders reject real safety measures like background checks, bans on assault weapons, and investments in mental health, they become complicit. Their calculated silence and performative grief after each tragedy is a strategy that values power over lives.

This isn’t just about party politics. It’s about life and death. The rise in political violence, including the recent killing of prominent figures, is directly linked to the climate of hate and division sustained and amplified by Republican leadership, driven by relentless hostility toward minorities.

If this country is to survive and thrive, it’s time to demand real accountability. Republicans are killing this country and purposely eroding democracy. Hold them accountable. Do not let them deflect or off the hook.

Call out the architects of division. Insist on action and refuse to accept empty gestures. Hold Republicans responsible for the violence, the hatred, and the world they have created.

No matter the fear or fatigue, do not lose focus. Do not let despair win. Vote them out.

I refuse to accept this as normal, and I will keep fighting for real change, because my life, our queer lives, are worth it.

David

In this episode, I sit down with my husband, Derek Lenington. You might remember Derek from my very first episode, so it feels especially fitting to have him back as the season one finale. Derek is a financial coach who recently launched his own business, and he’s the perfect person to help me untangle these questions.

We talk about Social Security, Medicare, spousal benefits, working while retired, and how to think about the “break-even” point. Derek also shares why retirement planning is about so much more than numbers—it’s about identity, navigating transitions, and preparing for the future.

If you’ve ever wondered about your own retirement or just felt confused by all the options, this conversation will help clear things up. Derek reminds us that retirement isn’t just about math—it’s about life, identity, and what comes next.

Listen in and learn with me.

—David

If you would like to work with Derek you can find him here: www.dereklenington.com

I couldn’t get it out of my head.

At first, I thought I could nail my response in a single paragraph. Ha! One paragraph couldn’t possibly hold afterschool havens, Saturday morning cartoon marathons, or convey the image of me sitting criss-cross applesauce with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread in front of the TV. That was the essential fuel of any serious TV explorer. Those worlds I lost myself in for hours deserved a novel, not a sentence.

For me television wasn’t just background noise; it was magic. A portal to places my real life hadn’t quite invented yet. As a gay kid growing up in the ’70s and early ’80s, those flickering boxes weren’t mere entertainment, they were my escape hatches. They were my secret sanctuaries, where I could glimpse characters who carried the same strangeness I felt inside, the queerness I couldn’t yet name, only theirs was met with laughter or love instead of shame. In those characters, I found something language hadn’t given me yet: a sense of belonging.

I caught it in Samantha’s twitching nose on Bewitched, in the goofy disguises of Bugs Bunny, the motley chosen family chaos of Scooby-Doo, and in the eternally stranded misfits of Gilligan’s Island (five-hour tour, my ass!). Even The Six Million Dollar Man felt like a queer parable of transformation, resilience, and becoming more than anyone expected. Or maybe I was simply craving a narrative I didn’t have words for yet. None of those characters waved rainbow flags (though I’ve always kept a side-eye on the Fred and Shaggy thing), but their magic, mischief, and quirky otherness mirrored the bits of me tucked away under layers of “don’t ask, don’t tell.”

Looking back, those shows taught me how to imagine, to play, and most importantly, to believe. They sparked the kind of creativity and resilience that still burns within me. They reminded me that joy and magic are not just childhood perks, and that the right stories tip-toe into teaching us to be brave in a world that’s often too big or just plain mean.

Television didn’t just entertain me—it saved me. It showed me possibility, connection, and the quiet comfort of being seen, even when the world outside my living room window wasn’t quite ready for me.

Years later, shows like Will & Grace and Glee threw queerness into the spotlight, shouting about our fabulousness in ways I’d only glimpsed as a kid. Yet sometimes, even now, it feels like those stories are getting shoved back into the shadows, whispered about behind closed doors, asked to not be visible. But if history’s taught me anything, it’s this: we find our way out. We always do. Because television, like us, is magic, it survives. Joy survives.

And so do we.

So, which stories set your imagination free?

—David

*Correction: As reminded me, the S.S. Minnow set out on a three-hour tour, not five. Small boat, big waves, I must have hit my head. 🤣

A Queer POV: Friends, Loves, & Life with David
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Like so many of us, Gregg carried an “original hurt” from childhood—the kind of moment that lodges itself in your memory and whispers doubts into every friendship and relationship that follows. But what makes his story special is not the hurt, but how he kept showing up for joy anyway. College brought him clarity: a simple newspaper article gave him the language for what he already knew—that he was gay. From there, his life unfolded in unexpected ways, from building community in Tucson and Los Angeles to raising a son with a circle of parents who figured things out as they went.

And then, of course, there’s love. Gregg talks about meeting Steven, the man who would become his husband and co-creator of daily rituals. (Five kisses before bed. Not four. Not six. Exactly five. Non-negotiable.) It’s the small things—cuddle alarms, grocery store trips, quiet moments on the couch—that became the glue of their 25 years together.

Listening to Gregg is like being reminded that life doesn’t have to be grand to be meaningful. It can be messy, funny, and sometimes awkward, but the best parts sneak in through little rituals, trusted friends, and the courage to keep choosing love—even when your brain still plays the old tapes of doubt.

As Gregg puts it, we’re here to experience life—fully, freely, and yes, even joyfully. And maybe that’s the point: you don’t have to hit the home run. You just have to keep stepping up to the plate.

-David