News

Obama includes gay rights in Mandela speech

President says people are still persecuted for ‘who they love’ around the world

Published

12 years ago

December 10, 2013

President Obama delivers a speech on Nelson Mandela in a memorial service in South Africa (Screenshot courtesy YouTube).

President Obama made a veiled reference to the struggle for gay rights across the world in his speech at the memorial service in South Africa honoring the life of the Nelson Mandela.

Obama made the reference to gay rights — saying people around the world are still persecuted for “who they love” — when making a generalized statement about the struggle for equality in which Mandela led the way in South Africa.

“The struggles that follow the victory of formal equality or universal franchise may not be as filled with drama and moral clarity as those that came before, but they are no less important,” Obama said. “For around the world today, we still see children suffering from hunger and disease. We still see run-down schools. We still see young people without prospects for the future. Around the world today, men and women are still imprisoned for their political beliefs, and are still persecuted for what they look like, and how they worship, and who they love. That is happening today.”

In remarks delivered at First National Bank Stadium on a rainy day in Johannesburg, South Africa, Obama commemorated Nelson, who worked to end apartheid in the country. After being imprisoned for 27 years, Nelson entered negotiations to achieve that goal and became the first South African elected in a fully representative democratic election.

In his 15-minute speech, Obama said Mandela served as an inspiration in part because his willingness to admit imperfection encouraged others to make similar endeavors in pursuit of equality.

“For nothing he achieved was inevitable,” Obama said. “In the arc of his life, we see a man who earned his place in history through struggle and shrewdness, and persistence and faith. He tells us what is possible not just in the pages of history books, but in our own lives as well.”

According to a pool report, Obama received a big roar from the crowd when he concluded his remarks. In addition to shouting and applause, the sound of the horn made famous during the World Cup, the Vuvuzela, filled the stadium. As Obama walked away from the stage, people rushed through the stands to see him.

Upon the news of his death, LGBT rights advocates praised the legacy of Mandela, saying he helped inspire them to achieve equality for LGBT people. Under the leadership of Mandela, South Africa became the first country in the world to add a ban on discrimination based on sexual orientation into its constitution.

Also in attendance for the memorial service were first lady Michelle Obama, former President George W. Bush, former President Bill Clinton and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. President Obama made headlines by shaking the hand of Cuban President Raul Castro, who also in the audience.

Read Obama’s full remarks as provided by the White House here:

THE WHITE HOUSE

Office of the Press Secretary

December 10, 2013

REMARKS BY PRESIDENT OBAMA

AT MEMORIAL SERVICE FOR FORMER SOUTH AFRICAN

PRESIDENT NELSON MANDELA

First National Bank Stadium

Johannesburg, South Africa

1:31 P.M. SAST

PRESIDENT OBAMA: Thank you. (Applause.) Thank you so much. Thank you. To Graça Machel and the Mandela family; to President Zuma and members of the government; to heads of states and government, past and present; distinguished guests — it is a singular honor to be with you today, to celebrate a life like no other. To the people of South Africa — (applause) — people of every race and walk of life — the world thanks you for sharing Nelson Mandela with us. His struggle was your struggle. His triumph was your triumph. Your dignity and your hope found expression in his life. And your freedom, your democracy is his cherished legacy.

It is hard to eulogize any man — to capture in words not just the facts and the dates that make a life, but the essential truth of a person — their private joys and sorrows; the quiet moments and unique qualities that illuminate someone’s soul. How much harder to do so for a giant of history, who moved a nation toward justice, and in the process moved billions around the world.

Born during World War I, far from the corridors of power, a boy raised herding cattle and tutored by the elders of his Thembu tribe, Madiba would emerge as the last great liberator of the 20th century. Like Gandhi, he would lead a resistance movement — a movement that at its start had little prospect for success. Like Dr. King, he would give potent voice to the claims of the oppressed and the moral necessity of racial justice. He would endure a brutal imprisonment that began in the time of Kennedy and Khrushchev, and reached the final days of the Cold War. Emerging from prison, without the force of arms, he would — like Abraham Lincoln — hold his country together when it threatened to break apart. And like America’s Founding Fathers, he would erect a constitutional order to preserve freedom for future generations — a commitment to democracy and rule of law ratified not only by his election, but by his willingness to step down from power after only one term.

Given the sweep of his life, the scope of his accomplishments, the adoration that he so rightly earned, it’s tempting I think to remember Nelson Mandela as an icon, smiling and serene, detached from the tawdry affairs of lesser men. But Madiba himself strongly resisted such a lifeless portrait. (Applause.) Instead, Madiba insisted on sharing with us his doubts and his fears; his miscalculations along with his victories. “I am not a saint,” he said, “unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.”

It was precisely because he could admit to imperfection — because he could be so full of good humor, even mischief, despite the heavy burdens he carried — that we loved him so. He was not a bust made of marble; he was a man of flesh and blood — a son and a husband, a father and a friend. And that’s why we learned so much from him, and that’s why we can learn from him still. For nothing he achieved was inevitable. In the arc of his life, we see a man who earned his place in history through struggle and shrewdness, and persistence and faith. He tells us what is possible not just in the pages of history books, but in our own lives as well.

Mandela showed us the power of action; of taking risks on behalf of our ideals. Perhaps Madiba was right that he inherited, “a proud rebelliousness, a stubborn sense of fairness” from his father. And we know he shared with millions of black and colored South Africans the anger born of, “a thousand slights, a thousand indignities, a thousand unremembered moments…a desire to fight the system that imprisoned my people,” he said.

But like other early giants of the ANC — the Sisulus and Tambos — Madiba disciplined his anger and channeled his desire to fight into organization, and platforms, and strategies for action, so men and women could stand up for their God-given dignity. Moreover, he accepted the consequences of his actions, knowing that standing up to powerful interests and injustice carries a price. “I have fought against white domination and I have fought against black domination. I’ve cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and [with] equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.” (Applause.)

Mandela taught us the power of action, but he also taught us the power of ideas; the importance of reason and arguments; the need to study not only those who you agree with, but also those who you don’t agree with. He understood that ideas cannot be contained by prison walls, or extinguished by a sniper’s bullet. He turned his trial into an indictment of apartheid because of his eloquence and his passion, but also because of his training as an advocate. He used decades in prison to sharpen his arguments, but also to spread his thirst for knowledge to others in the movement. And he learned the language and the customs of his oppressor so that one day he might better convey to them how their own freedom depend upon his. (Applause.)

Mandela demonstrated that action and ideas are not enough. No matter how right, they must be chiseled into law and institutions. He was practical, testing his beliefs against the hard surface of circumstance and history. On core principles he was unyielding, which is why he could rebuff offers of unconditional release, reminding the Apartheid regime that “prisoners cannot enter into contracts.”

But as he showed in painstaking negotiations to transfer power and draft new laws, he was not afraid to compromise for the sake of a larger goal. And because he was not only a leader of a movement but a skillful politician, the Constitution that emerged was worthy of this multiracial democracy, true to his vision of laws that protect minority as well as majority rights, and the precious freedoms of every South African.

And finally, Mandela understood the ties that bind the human spirit. There is a word in South Africa — Ubuntu — (applause) — a word that captures Mandela’s greatest gift: his recognition that we are all bound together in ways that are invisible to the eye; that there is a oneness to humanity; that we achieve ourselves by sharing ourselves with others, and caring for those around us.

We can never know how much of this sense was innate in him, or how much was shaped in a dark and solitary cell. But we remember the gestures, large and small — introducing his jailers as honored guests at his inauguration; taking a pitch in a Springbok uniform; turning his family’s heartbreak into a call to confront HIV/AIDS — that revealed the depth of his empathy and his understanding. He not only embodied Ubuntu, he taught millions to find that truth within themselves.

It took a man like Madiba to free not just the prisoner, but the jailer as well — (applause) — to show that you must trust others so that they may trust you; to teach that reconciliation is not a matter of ignoring a cruel past, but a means of confronting it with inclusion and generosity and truth. He changed laws, but he also changed hearts.

For the people of South Africa, for those he inspired around the globe, Madiba’s passing is rightly a time of mourning, and a time to celebrate a heroic life. But I believe it should also prompt in each of us a time for self-reflection. With honesty, regardless of our station or our circumstance, we must ask: How well have I applied his lessons in my own life? It’s a question I ask myself, as a man and as a President.

We know that, like South Africa, the United States had to overcome centuries of racial subjugation. As was true here, it took sacrifice — the sacrifice of countless people, known and unknown, to see the dawn of a new day. Michelle and I are beneficiaries of that struggle. (Applause.) But in America, and in South Africa, and in countries all around the globe, we cannot allow our progress to cloud the fact that our work is not yet done.

The struggles that follow the victory of formal equality or universal franchise may not be as filled with drama and moral clarity as those that came before, but they are no less important. For around the world today, we still see children suffering from hunger and disease. We still see run-down schools. We still see young people without prospects for the future. Around the world today, men and women are still imprisoned for their political beliefs, and are still persecuted for what they look like, and how they worship, and who they love. That is happening today. (Applause.)

And so we, too, must act on behalf of justice. We, too, must act on behalf of peace. There are too many people who happily embrace Madiba’s legacy of racial reconciliation, but passionately resist even modest reforms that would challenge chronic poverty and growing inequality. There are too many leaders who claim solidarity with Madiba’s struggle for freedom, but do not tolerate dissent from their own people. (Applause.) And there are too many of us on the sidelines, comfortable in complacency or cynicism when our voices must be heard.

The questions we face today — how to promote equality and justice; how to uphold freedom and human rights; how to end conflict and sectarian war — these things do not have easy answers. But there were no easy answers in front of that child born in World War I. Nelson Mandela reminds us that it always seems impossible until it is done. South Africa shows that is true. South Africa shows we can change, that we can choose a world defined not by our differences, but by our common hopes. We can choose a world defined not by conflict, but by peace and justice and opportunity.

We will never see the likes of Nelson Mandela again. But let me say to the young people of Africa and the young people around the world — you, too, can make his life’s work your own. Over 30 years ago, while still a student, I learned of Nelson Mandela and the struggles taking place in this beautiful land, and it stirred something in me. It woke me up to my responsibilities to others and to myself, and it set me on an improbable journey that finds me here today. And while I will always fall short of Madiba’s example, he makes me want to be a better man. (Applause.) He speaks to what’s best inside us.

After this great liberator is laid to rest, and when we have returned to our cities and villages and rejoined our daily routines, let us search for his strength. Let us search for his largeness of spirit somewhere inside of ourselves. And when the night grows dark, when injustice weighs heavy on our hearts, when our best-laid plans seem beyond our reach, let us think of Madiba and the words that brought him comfort within the four walls of his cell: “It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.”

What a magnificent soul it was. We will miss him deeply. May God bless the memory of Nelson Mandela. May God bless the people of South Africa. (Applause.)

END 1:50 P.M. SAST

Related Topics:Barack Obama Homepage Headlines Nelson Mandela

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Federal Government

Republicans attach five anti-LGBTQ riders to State Department funding bill

Spending package would restrict Pride flags on federal buildings, trans healthcare, LGBTQ envoys

Published

2 days ago

May 1, 2026

Joe Reberkenny

(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

As Congress finalizes its funding for fiscal year 2027, Republicans are attempting to include five anti-LGBTQ riders in the National Security and Department of State Appropriations Act.

A rider is an unrelated provision tacked onto a bill that must pass — in this instance, the bill provides funding for national security policy and for the State Department.

The riders range from restricting Pride flags in federal buildings to banning transgender healthcare, but all aim to limit the visibility and rights of LGBTQ Americans.

The five riders are:

Section 7067(a) prohibits Pride flags from being flown over federal buildings.

Section 7067(c) restricts the United States’ ability to appoint special envoys, representatives, or coordinators unless expressly authorized by Congress. These roles have historically been used to promote U.S. interests in international forums — including advancing human and LGBTQ and intersex rights and other policy priorities. The change would halt what the Congressional Equality Caucus describes as providing “critical expertise to U.S. foreign policy and leadership abroad.”

Section 7067(d) reinforces multiple anti-equality executive orders signed by President Donald Trump, effectively requiring that foreign assistance funded by the United States comply with those orders. This includes rescinding federal contractor nondiscrimination protections, including for LGBTQ people.

Section 7067(e) prohibits funding for any organization that provides or promotes medically necessary healthcare for trans people or “promotes transgenderism” — effectively banning funds for organizations that recognize trans people exist. This is despite the practice of gender-affirming care being supported by nearly every major medical association.

Section 7067(g) reinforces two global gag rules put forward by the Trump-Vance administration. One is the Trans Global Gag Rule, which prohibits foreign assistance funding for organizations that acknowledge the existence of trans people or advocate for nondiscrimination protections for them, among other activities. The second is the DEI Global Gag Rule, which prohibits foreign assistance funding for organizations that engage in efforts to address the ongoing effects of racism, sexism, and other forms of bigotry outside the United States.

The global gag rule has its roots in anti-abortion policy introduced by President Ronald Reagan in 1984, when the 40th president barred foreign organizations receiving U.S. global health assistance from providing information, referrals, or services for legal abortion, or from advocating for access to abortion services in their own countries. Planned Parenthood notes that the policy also affects programs beyond abortion, including efforts to expand access to contraception, prevent and treat HIV/AIDS, combat malaria, and improve maternal and child health.

If organizations funded by the State Department engage in these activities, they could lose funding.

This anti-LGBTQ push aligns with broader actions from the Trump-Vance administration since the start of Trump’s second term, which have focused on restricting human rights — particularly those of trans Americans.

The House Appropriations Committee is responsible for drafting the appropriations legislation. U.S. Rep. Tom Cole (R-Okla.) serves as chair, with U.S. Rep. Rosa DeLauro (D-Conn.) as ranking member. The committee includes 34 Republicans and 27 Democrats.

For FY27 appropriations, Congress is supposed to pass and have the president sign the funding bills by Sept. 30, 2026.

Noticias en Español

The university that refuses to let go

Joanna Cifredo is a trans woman participating in University of Puerto Rico strike

Published

2 days ago

May 1, 2026

Ignacio Estrada Cepero

Joanna Cifredo outside the University of Puerto Rico campus in Mayagüez, Puerto Rico. (Washington Blade photo by Ignacio Estrada Cepero)

Over the past days, I have been walking with a question that refuses to leave me. Not the kind of question you answer from a desk or from a distance, but one that grows out of what you witness in real time, at the gates, in the faces of those who remain there without knowing how any of this will end. What is truly happening inside the University of Puerto Rico, and why have so many students decided to risk everything at a moment when they can least afford to lose anything.

I write as someone who lives just steps away from the Río Piedras campus. These days, the silence has replaced the constant movement that once defined this space. The absence is felt in every corner where students used to pass at all hours. Since arriving in Puerto Rico three years ago, I have come to know firsthand stories that rarely make it into reports or official statements. One of the reasons I chose to stay was precisely this, to serve the university community, to help create a space where students could find something as basic as a safe meal at night and, in some way, ease burdens that are often carried in silence.

I have listened, asked questions, and tried to understand without imposing answers. What I have found is not a collective outburst or a generational whim. What exists is a fracture, a deep break between those making decisions and those living with their consequences every single day.

There has been an effort to reduce this strike to an issue of order, scheduling, or academic disruption. Conversations revolve around missed classes, delayed semesters, and students supposedly unaware of the consequences of their actions. What is rarely addressed are the conditions that lead an entire student body to pause its own future to sustain a protest that offers no guarantees.

Because that is the reality. These are students who fully understand what they are risking, and yet they remain. When someone reaches that point, the least they deserve is not judgment, but to be heard.

From the outside, there have also been attempts to discredit what is happening. Familiar narratives are repeated, legitimacy is questioned, and doubt is cast over intentions. It is easier to do that than to acknowledge that this did not begin at the gates, but long before, in decisions made without building trust.

And something must be said clearly. This is not limited to the gates of Río Piedras. What we are witnessing extends across every unit of the University of Puerto Rico system. Mayagüez, Ponce, Arecibo, Bayamón, Cayey, Humacao, Carolina, Aguadilla, Utuado, and the Medical Sciences Campus. This is not an isolated reaction. It is a movement that runs through the entire institution. Río Piedras may be more visible, but it is not alone. What is happening there reflects a broader unrest felt across the system.

Within that context, one demand has grown increasingly present, the call for the resignation of University of Puerto Rico President Zayira Jordán Conde. This is not the voice of a small group. It reflects a deeper level of mistrust that has spread across multiple campuses.

The Puerto Rican Association of University Professors has also made it clear that this is not solely a student issue. There is real concern among faculty, and a shared recognition of the conditions currently shaping the university. When students and professors arrive at the same conclusion, the problem can no longer be minimized.

Meanwhile, the administration continues to speak in the language of dialogue. But dialogue is not a word, it is a practice. And when trust has been broken, it cannot be restored through statements alone, but through decisions that prove a willingness to truly listen.

In the midst of all of this, there are voices that cannot be ignored. Voices grounded not in theory, but in lived experience. One of them is Joanna Cifredo, a student at the Mayagüez campus, a young Puerto Rican trans woman, and someone widely recognized for her advocacy.

I spoke with her in recent days. What follows is her voice, exactly as it is.

How would you describe what is happening inside the University of Puerto Rico right now, beyond what people see from the outside?

Estamos viviendo momentos muy difíciles, en el sentido de que hay mucha incertidumbre y una presión constante por parte de la administración para reabrir el recinto, pero, entre todo el caos e inestabilidad provocado por las decisiones de esta administración, también hemos vivido momentos muy poderosos. Esta lucha ha sacado lo mejor de nuestra comunidad.

Lo vimos en las asambleas y plenos, donde 1,500, 1,700, hasta 1,800 estudiantes llegaron —bajo lluvia, bajo advertencias de inundaciones— y aun así se quedaron, participaron y votaron a favor de una manifestación indefinida hasta que se atiendan nuestros reclamos.

He conocido a tantas personas en los diferentes portones, estudiantes graduados, aletas, estudiantes de intercambio, estudiantes de todo tipo de concentraciones y se unieron para apoyar el movimiento estudiantil. Estudiantes que vienen a los portones después del trabajo o antes de trabajar. Estudiantes que vienen a dejar agua y suministros entre turnos de trabajo. Viejitos que vienen a los portones con desayuno, almuerzo o cena.

Más allá de lo que se ve desde afuera, lo que estamos viviendo es una mezcla de tensión y resistencia, pero también de comunidad, solidaridad y compromiso colectivo.

Much of what is discussed remains at the level of headlines or social media. From your direct experience, what specific decisions or actions from the administration have led to this level of mobilization?

Desde el inicio, la designación de la Dra. Zayira Jordán Conde careció de respaldo dentro de la comunidad universitaria. No contaba con experiencia administrativa en la UPR ni con un conocimiento básico de nuestros procesos, cultura y reglamentos. Por eso, en asamblea, el estudiantado votó para solicitarle a la Junta de Gobierno que no considerara su candidatura, y múltiples organizaciones docentes hicieron lo mismo. Existía un consenso amplio de que no tenía la experiencia necesaria para liderar una institución como la nuestra.

A pesar de ese rechazo claro, la Junta de Gobierno decidió ignorar los reclamos de la comunidad universitaria e imponer su nombramiento.

Una vez en el cargo, su estilo de gobernanza ha sido poco transparente y poco colaborativo. Sin embargo, el detonante principal de la movilización en el Recinto Universitario de Mayagüez fue su decisión de destituir, de manera unilateral y en medio del semestre, a cinco rectores, incluyendo al nuestro, el Dr. Agustín Rullán Toro, para reemplazarlo por un rector interino, el Dr. Miguel Muñoz Muñoz.

Esta acción, tomada de forma abrupta, provocó de inmediato un clima de caos e inestabilidad dentro de la institución. Y deja una pregunta inevitable: ¿no anticipó el impacto de esa decisión, lo que evidenciaría una falta de experiencia? ¿O lo anticipó y aun así decidió proceder? No está claro cuál de las dos es más preocupante.

Además, esta decisión tuvo consecuencias concretas para el estudiantado, incluyendo el retiro de becas educativas para nuevos integrantes del RUM por parte de la Fundación Ceiba, que calificó la movida como “sorprendente” y “preocupante”. Decisiones impulsivas como la que tomó la presidenta ponen en peligro la estabilidad de nuestra institución y la acreditación de la universidad.

As a trans woman within this movement, how does your identity intersect with what is happening, and why does this also shape the future of people like you?

Soy una de varias chicas trans que formamos parte activa de este movimiento estudiantil.

For those outside the UPR who believe this does not affect them, what are the real consequences of this crisis?

La Universidad de Puerto Rico se fundó para servir al pueblo.

It is impossible to overstate the role the University of Puerto Rico and its students have played in shaping the social, cultural, and economic life of this country. Its impact extends into science, medicine, and every profession that has sustained Puerto Rico over time. No other educational institution has contributed more.

After listening to her, one thing becomes undeniable. This is not just another protest, but a generation refusing to let go of what little remains within its reach. And when a generation reaches that point, the issue is no longer the strike, the issue becomes the country itself.

District of Columbia

Judge issues revised order in Capital Pride stalking case

Defendant Darren Pasha agreed to accept less restrictive directive

Published

2 days ago

May 1, 2026

Lou Chibbaro Jr.

Darren Pasha (Washington Blade photo by Lou Chibbaro, Jr.)

A D.C. Superior Court judge on April 30 reinstated an anti-stalking order requested by the Capital Pride Alliance against local gay activist Darren Pasha based on allegations that Pasha engaged in a year-long effort to harass, intimidate, and stalk the organization’s staff, board members, and volunteers.

The reinstated order by Judge Robert D. Okun followed an April 17 court hearing in which he rescinded a similar order he initially approved in February on grounds that more evidence was needed to substantiate the need for the order.

At the time he rescinded the earlier order he scheduled an evidentiary hearing for April 29 at which three Capital Pride staff members testified in support of the anti-stalking order. But Okun discontinued the hearing after Pasha, who was representing himself without an attorney, announced he was willing to accept a revised, less restrictive temporary restraining order.

The judge said Pasha’s decision to accept a restraining order made it no longer necessary to continue the evidentiary hearing. He then asked Capital Pride and Pasha to submit their suggested revisions for the order which they submitted a short time later.

The case began when Capital Pride Alliance, the D.C.-based LGBTQ group that organizes the city’s annual Pride events, filed a civil complaint on Oct. 27, 2025, against Pasha, accusing him of engaging in a year-long effort to harass, intimidate, and stalk Capital Pride staff, board members, and volunteers. It includes a 167-page addendum of “supporting exhibits” that includes multiple statements by unidentified witnesses.

Pasha, who has represented himself without an attorney, has argued in multiple court filings and motions that the stalking allegations are untrue. In his initial court response to the complaint, he said it appears to be a form of retaliation against him for a dispute he has had with Capital Pride and its former board president, Ashley Smith, who has since resigned from the board.

Similar to his earlier anti-stalking order against Pasha, Okun’s reissued order on April 30 states, a “Temporary Anti-Stalking Order is GRANTED, effective immediately and remaining in effect until further order of the Court or final disposition of this matter.”

It adds, “The defendant shall not contact, attempt to contact, harass, threaten, or otherwise communicate with any protected person, directly or indirectly, including through third parties, social media, electronic communication, or any other means.”

Unlike the earlier order, which did not identify the “protected persons” by name, the latest order includes a list of 34 people, 13 of whom are Capital Pride staff members or volunteers, including CEO Ryan Bos and Chief Operating Officer June Crenshaw. The other 21 people listed are identified as Capital Pride board members, including board chair Anna Jinkerson.

Possibly because Pasha addressed this in his suggested version of the order, the judge’s revised order says Pasha is allowed to visit the D.C. LGBTQ+ Community Center, where the Capital Pride office is located, if he gives the community center a 24 hour advance notice that he will be visiting the center, which hosts many events unrelated to Capital Pride. The earlier order required him to stay at least 100 feet away from the Capital Pride office.

The new order also prohibits Pasha from attending 21 named events that Capital Pride Alliance either organizes itself or with partner organizations that were scheduled to take place from April 30 through June 21. The order says he is allowed to attend the two largest events, the June 20 Pride Parade and the June 21 Pride Festival and Concert, in which 500,000 or more people are expected to attend.

It says Pasha is also allowed to attend the June 15 Pride At The Pier event organized by the Washington Blade.

But for those three events the order says he is restricted from entering “ticketed and controlled access areas.”

At the April 29 court hearing, Okun also scheduled a mandatory remote mediation session for July 23, in which efforts would be made to resolve the civil complaint case brought by Capital Pride without going to trial.