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Lifting the veil on Sally Ride’s private life

Moving bio reveals astronaut didn’t want to be defined by gay label

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Sally Ride, gay news, Washington Blade
Sally Ride, gay news, Washington Blade

Astronaut Sally Ride (Photo public domain)

Labels are for bottles, not people, according to the popular aphorism. I’ve been thinking of this while reading “Sally Ride: America’s First Woman in Space,” by writer and former ABC News correspondent Lynn Sherr, just out from Simon & Schuster. As this engrossing, moving biography reveals, neither Ride nor her partner of 27 years, Tam O’Shaughnessy, liked labels.  Especially, about their sexual orientation or same-sex relationship.

“She didn’t want to be defined by the lesbian/gay label …we both didn’t like categories,” Sherr writes that O’Shaughnessy told her.

Like many of us, LGBT and straight, I was sad to learn on July 23, 2012 that Ride, the first American woman to fly in space, had died of pancreatic cancer. Growing up, starry-eyed, watching Neil Armstrong walk on the moon, cheering when Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs and embracing the women’s movement, I didn’t think girls could be astronauts. Ride’s historic 1983 space flight was thrilling to women of all generations.

“Millions of little girls are going to sit by their television sets and see that they can be astronauts, heroes, explorers and scientists,” Gloria Steinem said at the time.

As Sherr’s biography engagingly shows, Ride was so multi-faceted in her talents and interests that she was almost, to use Duke Ellington’s dictum, “beyond category.” Ride was an astrophysicist who studied Shakespeare, an athlete (who joked that her horrible “forehand” kept her from becoming a professional tennis player), educator, and, with O’Shaughnessy, a children’s book writer. She was a serious scientist who was most comfortable in academia. After the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded, Ride was part of the commission established to investigate the accident.

“As a retired astronaut, she did research on arms control,” Sherr writes, “… she championed programs to advance the status of women and fought against stereotypes that dampened children’s dreams, barriers to success that had never stopped her.”

When I was in school, science was creepy – a bunch of (mainly male) teachers saying boring, incomprehensible things. Ride and O’Shaughnessy, through their company Sally Ride Science, worked to change this dreary image of science. Ride wanted children to know that “science is cool,” Sherr writes.

Though Ride was an intensely private person, she loved talking with kids about going to the bathroom in outer space. When a child asked Ride if the food that she ate in space was gross, she replied, “No! We had peanut butter.”

Like many in the LGBT community and in the wider culture, I was surprised and saddened to learn only after her death that Ride had been in a same-sex relationship for more than two decades. I didn’t judge her for not being open about her sexuality or her relationship with O’Shaughnessy. I thought then, as I do now, that deciding to come out, even as marriage equality increasingly becomes a reality, is still a personal, and often, difficult, decision. Homosexuality was considered to be a mental illness until 1973, and it’s doubtful that NASA would have accepted an openly LGBT astronaut.

“She was just a private person who wanted to do things her way. She hated labels (including hero),” Ride’s sister Bear told the Associated Press at the time of her death.

Few beyond a small, extremely close-knit circle knew of Ride and O’Shaughnessy’s relationship. Even, Sherr, a friend of Ride’s, didn’t know that Ride and O’Shaughnessy were a same-sex couple. Though not a hagiography in any sense of the word, Sherr wrote this book because O’Shaughnessy wanted it to be written. O’Shaughnessy decided “that it was time for a proper biography,” Sherr writes. “That the obituaries didn’t capture the richness or the nuance of her life … that in the interest of honesty it was time to lift the veil of privacy Sally had guarded so tenaciously.”

Many thanks, Tam, for lifting the veil. And thanks to Sherr for illuminating a legendary life in all its rich complexity.

Kathi Wolfe, a writer and poet, is a regular contributor to the Blade.

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The latest Supreme Court case erasing LGBTQ identity

Chiles v. Salazar a major setback for movement

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(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

In its recent decision in Chiles v. Salazar, the U.S. Supreme Court invalidated Colorado’s law prohibiting licensed counselors from engaging in efforts to change the sexual orientation or gender identity of minors. The decision, which puts into question similar laws in 22 other states, relied on the First Amendment to hold that the law violates counselors’ free speech rights. But the decision also strikes a blow against LGBTQ dignity, a point the court’s opinion does not even address.  

The eight-member majority, which included Justices Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor, who usually side with LGBTQ groups, justified its reasoning by suggesting that the law was one-sided: it permitted treatment that affirms LGBTQ identity but forbade treatment that seeks to change it. But the law is one-sided, as Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson’s lone dissent pointed out, because the medical evidence only supports one side: reams of research show that “survivors of conversion therapy continue to suffer from PTSD, anxiety, and suicidal ideation.” And major medical associations all agree, no evidence demonstrates the efficacy of conversion efforts. This isn’t surprising. Medicine often take sides — some treatments work, and some don’t.

But particularly concerning is the vision of LGBTQ identity that undergirds the majority opinion when compared to the dissent. Justice Jackson’s dissent explains that LGBTQ identity is simply “a part of the normal spectrum of human diversity” — not something to be “cured.” By contrast, for the majority, how best to help LGBTQ minors is “a subject of fierce public debate.” That can hardly be the case if LGBTQ identity stands on equal ground with straight, cisgender identity, or if LGBTQ people are as deserving of safety, rights, and dignity.

Indeed, the LGBTQ rights movement only began in earnest when advocates in the 1960s decided to end the “debate” over gay identity. Until then, community leaders would routinely cooperate with psychiatrists who were interested in researching homosexuality as a medical condition. A new generation of activists, led by Frank Kameny, a key movement founder, began arguing that this got the issue upside down: Rather than wondering if they could be “cured,” LGBTQ people had to assert a right to their identity. As Kameny put it—“we have been defined into sickness.” Only once the case was made that it was society that had to change, and not LGBTQ people, could LGBTQ consciousness, LGBTQ pride and LGBTQ rights develop. Their activism led to the first Pride parade in New York, and the official declassification of homosexuality as a disease in 1973. 

The Supreme Court’s conservatives don’t just want to reignite this half-century old medical “debate”; they also treat medical claims that undermine LGBTQ identity very differently from those who support it. Last year, in an opinion backingTennessee’s law that banned gender affirming care for minors, the court sympathetically marched through the reasons Tennessee offered for “why States may rightly be skeptical” of such care, and cited three times, in some detail, to “health authorities in a number of European countries” (that is, some Nordic countries and the UK) that had curbed pediatric care. It failed to mention that most of Western Europe and every major American medical association provides access to this care.

In Chiles, by contrast, the court cites none of the evidence that Colorado amassed that conversion therapy harms LGBTQ children. None of the countries that the court had invoked to justify anti-trans policies allow conversion therapy in their health care systems (indeed, one of them criminalizes such practices). So rather than cite medical evidence, the court simply asked — why trust medical evidence at all? “What if,” asks the court, “reflexive deference to currently prevailing professional views [does] not always end well?” and cites an infamous 1927 Supreme Court case, Buck v. Bell.

In Buck, the Supreme Court embraced eugenic reasoning, backing a eugenic state law that allowed the sterilization of individuals with mental disabilities, on the grounds that such disabilities were hereditary. As Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes opined, “three generations of imbeciles are enough.” Look at what happens when we listen to medical expertise, today’s court seems to say, as an excuse to disregard the LGBTQ-affirming medical evidence they don’t like.

But the court has missed the key lesson of Buck. The law at issue in Buckdiscriminated against a certain group, seeking, through sterilization measures, to erase it from existence. Indeed, LGBTQ people (whom doctors of the day would have referred to as sexual “inverts”) were exactly the kind of people that the eugenic program of Bucksought to eliminate. Conversion therapy seeks similar erasure.

The lesson of the 1960s LGBTQ rights movement remains as relevant today as it was then. Without an unapologetic LGBTQ identity, LGBTQ Pride, LGBTQ rights and the LGBTQ movement itself can all founder. By supporting only the anti-LGBTQ side in this medical saga — and by suggesting that LGBTQ existence is subject to medical debate at all — the court is reaffirming, rather than repudiating, minority erasure.


Craig Konnoth is a professor of law at University of Virginia School of Law.

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Response to a personal attack against me

Writers should stick to facts and reason

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(Photo by sqback/Bigstock)

I was disappointed when the Blade didn’t publish my response to a personal attack on me in a column by Hayden Gise, in last week’s print edition. They did publish it online. To be clear, I have no problem with people disagreeing with my columns and opinions. That is absolutely fair. But when they get into personal attacks, it often means they don’t have enough to say about the ideas they are trying to criticize. 

In a recent column ‘Why the Democratic Socialists of America are right for D.C.,’ the author decided to attack me personally. Here is the response I wrote to her column: 

“I am responding to a column by Hayden Gise who says in her column she is a transgender, lesbian, Jewish, Democratic Socialist, and supports having the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) in Washington, DC. She is definitely as entitled to her view on this, as I am to mine. However, I was surprised she clearly felt it important to use the column to attack me personally, without even knowing me. What she didn’t do is respond to the issues in the DSA platform I wrote having a problem with, and which I asked candidates endorsed by the DSA to respond to. 1. Are they for the abolishment of the State of Israel? 2. What is their definition of a Zionist? 3. What is their definition of antisemitism? 4. Will they meet with Zionist organizations? 5. Do they support BDS? One needs to know when a candidate claims they are only a member of the local DSA, according to the DSA bylaws no person can be a member of a local DSA without being a member of the national organization. So Hayden Gise has a little better idea of who I am she should know: I was a teacher and a union member. I worked for the most progressive member of Congress at the time, Bella S. Abzug (D-N.Y.), and supported her when she introduced the Equality Act in 1974, to protect the rights of the LGBTQ community, and have fought for its passage ever since. I have spent a lifetime fighting for civil rights, women’s rights, disability rights, and LGBTQ rights. I have no idea what Hayden Gise’s background is, or what her history of working for the causes she espouses is. But I would be happy to meet with her to find out. But she should know, I take a back seat to no one in the work I have done over my life fighting for equality, including economic equality, for all. So, I will not attack her, as I don’t know her, and contrary to her, don’t personally attack people I don’t know much about. 

“I have, and will continue to attack, what the government of Israel is doing to the Palestinian people, and now to those in Lebanon and Iran. I will also attack the government of my own country, and the felon in the White House, and his sycophants in Congress, for what they are doing to our own people, and people around the world, and will continue to work hard to change things. However, I will also continue to stand for a two-state solution with the continued existence of the State of Israel, calling for a different government in Israel. I also strongly support the Palestinian people and believe they must have the right to their own free state.”

I have not heard from Gise, but I hope she knows that since she wrote her column indicating her support for Janeese Lewis George for mayor, her preferred candidate has attended a birthday party to celebrate a person who still refers to gay people as ‘fags.’   

We should not personally attack people we don’t know as a way to criticize their views on an issue. Once again, I have no problem with people disagreeing with what I write, and having the Blade publish those contrary columns. But a plea to all who disagree with any columnist, or story: disagree with the issues and refrain from making personal attacks on the writer. That actually takes away from whatever point you are trying to make. 


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

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Science said stop; the Supreme Court said no

What Chiles v. Salazar means for LGBTQ health

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(Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

Imagine if researchers found that coffee drinking increased your risk of death by more than 50%. The public health response would be immediate – regulations, warnings, a swift mobilization of policy to match the evidence. We would act, because protecting people from documented harm is what evidence-based policy exists to do.

The same logic is why Colorado banned conversion therapy. The science was clear: research from The Trevor Project and others shows that exposure to conversion therapy increases suicidal ideation among LGBTQ+ youth, and more than doubles suicide attempts for transgender youth. Every major medical organization in the country – the American Medical Association, the American Psychological Association, and the American Academy of Pediatrics – has condemned the practice. 

Colorado looked at the evidence and did what public health is supposed to do. It intervened. 

On March 31, 2026, the Supreme Court struck down that intervention 8-1 in the Chiles v. Salazar case, ruling that conversion therapy is protected speech.

This decision should alarm anyone who believes that science has a role in protecting human lives. The court did not dispute evidence. It did not produce contradicting research or question the methodology of the studies Colorado relied on. Instead, it decided that the ideological underpinnings of conversion therapy deserve more constitutional protection than the children being harmed by it. In doing so, it severed the fundamental link between what science tells us is dangerous and what the law is willing to prohibit. 

That severance has consequences far beyond Colorado, as Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson noted in her dissent. More than 20 states and Washington, D.C. have enacted conversion therapy bans. The court majority’s reasoning – that regulating talk-based practices constitutes censorship – hands challengers a blueprint. The scientific consensus that built those protections did not change on March 31, but its power to hold them in place did.

For LGBTQ+ public health researchers like us, this ruling is a reckoning. And a personal one. Both of us came to public health because it offered a way to ask questions that matter: How can we help people live safe, healthy, and happy lives?

As a Ph.D. student and an assistant professor focused on LGBTQ+ health, we have been energized by the possibility that rigorous research could inform policies that protect LGBTQ+ people. The Chiles v. Salazar ruling forces us to recognize something uncomfortable: the possibility of research driving policy is real, but it is not automatic. Evidence reaches policy only when researchers advocate to put it there. As it turns out, scientific evidence itself is not enough. 

This means the work of LGBTQ+ health researchers cannot stop at the journal article. It has to extend into the spaces where policy is actually made and public opinion is actually influenced. Researchers must work alongside educators, communicators, and community organizers to make evidence impossible to ignore or misrepresent. 

As Sylvia Rivera observed in 1971, “our family and friends have also condemned us because of their lack of true knowledge.” More than 50 years later, misinformation about conversion therapy, gender-affirming care, and LGBTQ+ health still fills the gap that researchers leave when they stay silent.

We also want to say this directly to LGBTQ+ young people: Science has not abandoned you. The evidence of your worth, your health, and your right to be protected is overwhelming and it is not going anywhere. The researchers, clinicians, and advocates who built that evidence are still here and still working to ensure it translates into the protection you deserve. 

The Chiles v. Salazar ruling is a serious setback. But it is not the end of the argument.

Science has shown us how conversion therapy causes harm. It has shown us clearly, repeatedly, and with the backing of every credible medical institution in the country. The Supreme Court chose to look away. The only response to that is to make looking away harder. To build a public, cross-sector, science-informed movement that refuses to let evidence be sidelined when lives are on the line.

The evidence is on our side. Now, we have to make sure it counts.


Vincenzo Malo is a Health Services Ph.D. student at the University of Washington’s School of Public Health who studies affirming health systems. Dr. Harry Barbee is an assistant professor in the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health whose research focuses on LGBTQ+ health, aging, and public policy.

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