a&e features
In memoriam
A look back at the LGBTQ voices we lost in 2020
Ed Flipowski, a public relations executive whose work with Gucci and other companies influenced the fashion industry, died on Jan. 10 at 58 from complications from surgery at his Manhattan home.
Michel Georges Alfred Catty, known as Michou, who ran a celebrated drag cabaret for decades died at 88 from a pulmonary embolism on Jan. 26 in a hospital in Saint-MandƩ, a suburb of Paris.
Deborah A. Batts, the first openly LGBTQ federal court judge, died on Feb. 3 at her New York City home at 72 from knee replacement surgery complications.
Terry DeCarlo, an LGBTQ activist who was director of the Center, an LGBTQ advocacy group, died at age 57 from face and neck cancer in a Hollywood, Fla. hospital. He became nationally known as a Florida LGBTQ community spokesperson after the 2016 massacre at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Fla.
Johni Cerny, the chief genealogist for the PBS series āFinding Your Roots,ā died on Feb. 19 in Lehi, Utah at age 76 from coronary heart disease and congestive heart failure.
Gerald S. Krone, a founder of the Negro Ensemble Company, died on Feb. 20 at age 86 at his Philadelphia home from Parkinsonās disease.
Mart Crowley, whose groundbreaking 1968 play āThe Boys in the Bandā told the story of gay characters who talked honestly about their lives, died on Feb. 7 at age 84 in Manhattan from heart surgery complications.
Charles Wuorinen, a Pulitzer Prize-winning composer who wrote the groundbreaking opera āBrokeback Mountain,ā died on March 11 at age 81 from complications from a fall in Manhattan.
Terrence McNally, the four-time Tony Award-winning playwright died on March 24 at 81 at Sarasota Memorial Hospital in Sarasota, Fla. From complications of the coronavirus. His half century of work includes āMaster Classā and āLove! Valour! Compassion!.ā
Tomie dePaola, childrenās book author and illustrator died on March 30 at 85 in Lebanon, N.H. from complications from surgery that he had after a fall. āStrega Nonaā is his best-known work.
Tarlach MacNiallais, a New York City LGBTQ and disability rights advocate, died on April 1 at 57 from coronavirus complications.
Thomas L. Miller, producer of āHappy Days,ā āFull Houseā and other popular TV shows died on April 5 in Salisbury, Conn. at 79 from heart disease.
Phyllis Lyon, pioneering lesbian activist and marriage equality advocate, died at age 95 on April 9 at her San Francisco home. Lyon and her partner of many decades Del Martin, along with three other lesbian couples founded the Daughters of Bilitis, one of the first United States lesbian political groups. In 2008, Lyon and Matin were the first California couple to legally marry.
Robert (Robby) Browne, real estate mogul and philanthropist died at age 72 on April 11 at his New York City apartment from multiple myeloma and the coronavirus. He socialized with Hillary Clinton, Martina Navratilova, and other celebs.
James Weaver, a Smithsonian curator, died on April 16 from the coronavirus in Rochester, N.Y. at age 82. He helped to bring American musical theater, jazz, hip-hop, folk music and early electric guitars to the Museum of American History, the Washington Post reported.
Iris Love, an archaeologist, art historian, champion dog breeder and gossip columnist Liz Smithās partner, died at age 86 on April 17 from the coronavirus at New York/Presbyterian/Weill Cornell Medical Center in Manhattan.
Kenneth Lewes, the psychologist whose groundbreaking book āPsychoanalysis and Male Homosexualityā challenged the view that being gay was a mental illness, died on April 17 at age 76 at a Manhattan hospital from the coronavirus.
David Carter, Stonewall historian and author, died on May 1 at age 67 from a heart attack at his New York City apartment.
Thomas Sokolowski, an early organizer of the art worldās response to the AIDS crisis died on May 6 at age 70 from cardiac arrest following emergency surgery for a subdural hematoma in New Brunswick, N.J.
Roy Horn of the legendary illusionist team Siegfried & Roy died on May 8 at age 75 from complications from COVID-19 in Las Vegas. The famed act entertained millions from Japan to New York City.
Little Richard, the flamboyantly queer, groundbreaking, early rock ān roll star, known for such hits as āSlippinā and Slidināā and āLucille,ā died on May 9 at age 87 in Tullahoma, Tenn. from bone cancer.
Aimee Stephens, the plaintiff in the landmark R.G &G.R. Harris Funeral Homes Inc. V. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission Supreme Court case, died on May 12 at age 59 at her Redford, Mich. home from kidney failure. The Court ruled that LGBTQ people are protected from employment discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity.
Stacey Milbern, a queer disability rights activist, died on May 19 at age 33 from complications from surgery at a Stanford, Calif. hospital. āOftentimes, disabled people have the solutions that society needs,ā she told public radio station KQED.
The iconic Larry Kramer, playwright, author, film producer, and a founder of Gay Menās Health Crisis and ACT UP died of pneumonia at age 84 on May 27.
Ron Simmons, executive director of Us Helping Us People Into Living, a Washington, D.C. AIDS service group died on May 28 at George Washington University Hospital from prostate cancer at age 79. Before serving with the AIDS organization, he was an assistant professor at Howard Universityās School of Communications.
Roberto Faraone Mennella, renowned jewelry designer and inventor of the āStella,ā the iconic earring, died on June 4 in Torre del Greco near Naples, Italy from cancer at age 48.
Paul Fortune, the interior designer known as āthe designer to the stars,ā died on June 15 from cardiac arrest in Ojai, Calif. at age 69. Sofia Coppola and Marc Jacobs were among his clients.
Angela Madsen, a gold-medal-winning Paralympian Rower died on July 21 at age 40 while trying to row on the Pacific Ocean by herself from California to Hawaii. She wanted to be the first openly queer athlete with paraplegia to make this journey, The New York Times reported.
Kansai Yamanoto, the flamboyant designer who designed the look of David Bowieās alter ego Ziggy Stardust, as well as looks for Elton John and Stevie Wonder, died on July 21 in a Tokyo hospital at age 76 from leukemia.
Lady Red Couture, a comedian singer and co-host of the LGBTQ talk show āHey, Qween!,ā died on July 25 at age 43 from complications of cyclic vomiting syndrome in Los Angeles.
Eric Bentley, the renowned theater critic, scholar, author and playwright died at age 103 on at his Manhattan home on Aug. 5.
Chi Chi DeVayne, the beloved āRuPaulās Drag Raceā contestant died on Aug. 20 at a Shreveport, La. hospital from scleroderma.
Randall Kenan, an award-winning gay Southern, Black writer of fiction infused with magical realism, died on Aug. 28 at age 57 at his Hillsborough, N.C. home.
Tony Tanner, who directed āJoseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoatā on Broadway died on Sept. 8 at age 88 at his Los Angeles home.
Henry van Ameringen, a philanthropist and early, openly gay, donor to LGBTQ and AIDS organizations, died on Sept. 9 at age 88 at his Manhattan home.
Soraya Santiago Solla, trailblazing trans activist, died on Sept. 22 at her home in Carolina, Puerto Rico at age 72 from cancer and respiratory failure.
Virginia Ramey Mollenkott, lesbian theologian died on Sept. 25 at her Pompton Plains, N.J. home at 88 from respiratory failure and pneumonia.
Monica Roberts, trans advocate, journalist who wrote the blog TransGrief, died on Oct. 5 at age 58 at her Houston home.
Frederick Weston, an āoutsiderā artist acclaimed for his collages of male bodies and Black queerness, died on Oct. 21 at 73 in his Manhattan apartment.
David Easton, architect and interior designer for aristocrats died on Oct. 29 at 83 at his Tulsa, Okla. home from complications of dementia.
Leonard Kamsler, an award-winning golf photographer died on Nov. 18 from organ failure at 85 in Bethel, N.Y.
Jan Morris, the acclaimed British travel writer and historian who wrote about her life as a transwoman, died on Nov. 20 died at 94 in a hospital near where she lived in Wales.
Deb Price, the first nationally syndicated columnist on gay life, died at 62 of an autoimmune lung disease on Nov. 20 at a hospital in Hong Kong.
Pat Patterson, an out gay wrestling star, at 79 on Dec. 2 from liver failure at a Miami Beach hospital.
Anthony Veasna So, an acclaimed writer died from unknown causes at 28 on Dec. 8 at his San Francisco home. āAfterparties,ā his debut book will be published by Ecco in August.
a&e features
Queer TV anchors in Md. use their platform āto fight for whatās rightā
Salisburyās Hannah Cechini, Rob Petree are out and proud in Delmarva
Identity can be a tricky thing for journalists to navigate. The goal of the job is to inform the public with no bias, but this is difficult, if not impossible, to do in practice. Everything from your upbringing to the books you read can impact how you view and cover the world. But sometimes these factors can help shine a light on an underrepresented community or issue.
Two broadcast journalists in Salisbury, Md., are using the subtle, yet impactful choice of sharing their queer identities to strengthen their reporting and connection to the community.
Hannah Cechini, who is non-binary, and Rob Petree, who is gay, co-host the 5:30-6:30 p.m. newscast for WMDT 47. They are the only known anchor team that are not only both queer, but also open out about their identities on air and, as Petree put it, āalways use [their] platform and power that [we] have to fight for what’s right.ā
Cechiniās passion for journalism played an important role in the discovery of their gender identity. They knew they were meant to be in the newsroom before they figured out they were non-binary.
āI was doing this job before I started to identify as non-binary,ā Cechini told the Blade. āI’d always watch the evening news with my dad growing up and thought it was the coolest thing. And throughout high school, I worked on the school paper.ā
After graduating from Suffolk University in Boston, Cechiniās passion for journalism only grew as they began to work in the world of news media, eventually ending up in Salisbury. As they honed their writing, editing, and anchoring skills at WMDT, Cechini also started to take an introspective look into their gender identity.
A little more than two years ago Cechini came out as non-binary to their coworkers in the newsroom and was met with support all around. āIt was definitely smoother than I anticipated,ā they said.
āIt is very freeing to be able to do this job as a non-binary person because I haven’t really seen much of that representation myself.ā
Petree, on the other hand, knew he was gay right around the same time he became interested in news media, at age 14. He started working for his high school news show and used it as a way to be open about his sexuality rather than hide it.
āI broke into broadcasting doing the morning announcements,ā he said. āI did the weather and started doing a segment called issues and insights,ā Petree said, explaining his introduction to the news. Eventually, students would ask him questions about his sexuality after seeing him on the school TV. āIt had gotten to the point in school, that if you’re going to come up and ask me if I’m gay, well shit, I’m going to tell you!ā
To him, this was the exact reason he had come out. Petree wanted to motivate others to live honestly.
āThere are a lot of people who will spend most of their lives not being out so if they can see someone like me, who’s out and proud doing his thing, so to speak, then maybe that’s the inspiration for them,ā Petree said. āTo search their own soul, find out who they are, and live their full life.ā
Petree explained that he got his start in a space that was not always welcoming to his queerness. This tested the delicate balance between being a journalist and holding your identity close.
āI’ve always been out and it was a challenge because I got my start in conservative talk radio,ā Petree said. āI’m going to be honest, some of the things I heard from people I’ve worked with, from the callers to the radio stations were absolutely abhorrent. But I never let it discourage me. It made me work that much harder.ā
Cechini highlighted the same sentiment when explaining why itās important to have out LGBTQ figures in news media. They want to show everyone that it is possible to be openly queer and successful.
āI just think that representation matters because if āJoe,ā who’s never seen a transgender person before, sees a transgender person or a non-binary person, doing a job that they’ve only ever seen straight cis people doing before, it kind of creates that understanding or bridges that gap,ā Cechini said. āIt’s like, āOK, maybe they’re not that different from me.ā And that facilitates being able to connect among different communities.ā
Both Cechini and Petree agree that having a queer coworker has made their bond stronger.
āIt’s great to have someone else next to me who I can relate to and work alongside,ā Petree said. āAnd they’re a joy to work with, they really are. There is a tremendous amount of things that we relate to together ā like we both share and have the same affinity for Lady Gaga,ā he said laughing. āAlthough they’re more of a Lady Gaga fan than I am.ā
āHannah is a tremendous journalist who really goes out of their way to make sure that the stories that they do are on point 100% of the time,ā he added. āThey’ve been great to work with and to learn from and to grow alongside. I’m very happy to have them as my co-anchor.ā
Cechini explained that the relationship between two co-anchors can make or break a newscast, and having Petree as their partner on air is a major part of the showās success.
āCo-anchoring is not just the relationship that you have on camera,ā Cechini said. āIt’s really, really important to have a good relationship with your co-anchor off-camera as well because you have to have a level of trust between you.ā
Cechini continued, saying that this relationship is crucial to working together, especially when things donāt go as planned.
āNot everything always goes to script,ā they said. āSometimes you have to be able to work together without even really talking to each other and just kind of know what to do. When you have a relationship like that with someone who identifies similarly to you or has had similar life experience, I think that just only strengthens that [relationship].ā
Although they have had similar experiences being from the LGBTQ community, Petree said it was a change for him to use āthey/themā pronouns on air.
āPrior to working with Hannah, I’ve never worked with a non-binary individual who went by the pronouns āthey/them,āā Petree said. āIt was new for me to not use traditional pronouns on air, but I can say that I have never misgendered them on air and never will. You get conditioned to using traditional pronouns and it’s easy to make that mistake, but I never have.ā
At the end of the day, they both explained, it is about doing the job right. For the duo, a part of that is understanding the diversity of people and issues in the community.
āWhen you come from a more marginalized community, I think that kind of helps to inform you a little better as a journalist because you have a better understanding of what it’s like to be āthe other guy,āā Cechini said.
āOur talent and our drive for journalism speaks for itself,ā Petree said. āAnd that resonates with people. Have we shown ourselves to be an inspiration to the LGBTQ+ community here in Delmarva? Yes, we have. And that’s something that I’m proud of.ā
The primetime nightly newscast with Hannah Cechini and Rob Petree airs weeknights from 5:30-6:30 p.m. on ABC affiliate WMDT 47.
a&e features
āQueering Rehoboth Beachā features love, loss, murder, and more
An interview with gay writer and historian James T. Sears
James T. Sears book talk
Saturday, June 29, 5 p.m.
Politics & Prose
5015 Connecticut Ave., N.W.
When it comes to LGBTQ summer destinations in the Eastern time zone, almost everyone knows about Provincetown, Mass., Fire Island, N.Y., and Key West, Fla. There are also slightly lesser known, but no less wonderful places, such as Ogunquit, Maine, Saugatuck, Mich., and New Hope, Pa. Sandwiched in between is Rehoboth Beach, Del., a location that is popular with queer folks from D.C., Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. The dramatic and inspiring story of how Rehoboth Beach came to be what it is today can be found in gay historian James T. Searsās revealing new book āQueering Rehoboth Beach: Beyond the Boardwalkā (Temple University Press, 2024). As educational as it is dishy, āQueering Rehoboth Beachā provides readers with everything they need to know (and possibly didnāt realize they needed to know) about this fabulous locality. Sears was kind enough to make time to answer a few questions about the book.
WASHINGTON BLADE: James, itās been a few years since Iāve interviewed you. The last time was in 1997 about your book āFrom Lonely Hunters to Lonely Hearts: An Oral History of Lesbian and Gay Southern Life.ā At the time, you were living in Columbia, S.C. Where are you currently based, and how long have you been there?
JAMES T. SEARS: It has been great reconnecting with you. After that book, we moved to Charleston, S.C. There I wrote several more books. One was about the Mattachine group, focusing on one largely misunderstood leader, Hal Call. Another book shared reminisces of a 90-year-old gentleman, the late John Zeigler, interweaving his diaries, letters, and poetry to chronicle growing up gay in the South at the turn of the last century. From there I moved to Central America where I chronicled everyday queer life and learned Spanish. We returned several years ago and then washed up on Rehoboth Beach.
BLADE: In the introduction to your new book āQueering Rehoboth Beach: Beyond the Boardwalkā (Temple University Press, 2024), you write about how a ārestaurant incidentā in Rehoboth, which you describe in detail in the prologue, became a kind of inspiration for the book project. Please say something about how as a historian, the personal can also be political and motivational.
SEARS: I want to capture readerās interest by personalizing this book more than I have others. The restaurant anecdote is the bookās backstory. It explains, in part, my motivation for writing it, and more crucially, introduces one meaning of āqueering Rehoboth.ā That is, in order to judge this āincidentāāand the book itselfāwe need to engage in multiple readings of history, or at least be comfortable with this approach. I underscore that what is accepted as āhistoryāāabout an individual, a community, or a societyāis simply a reflection of that eraās accepted view. Queering history challenges that consensus.
BLADE: Who do you see as the target audience for āQueering Rehoboth Beach?ā
SEARS: Well, certainly if you have been to Rehoboth or reside there, this book provides a history of the townāand its queeringāgiving details that I doubt even locals know! Also, for those interested in the evolution of other East Coast queer resorts (Ptown, Fire Island, Key West) this book adds to that set of histories. My book will also be of interest to students of social change and community organizing. Most importantly, though, it is just a good summer read.
BLADE: āQueering Rehoboth Beachā features numerous interviews. What was involved in the selection process of interview subjects?
SEARS: I interviewed dozens of people. They are listed in the book as the āCast of Narrators.ā Before these interviews, I engaged in a systematic review of local and state newspapers, going back to Rehobothās founding as a Methodist Church Camp in 1873. I also read anecdotal stories penned by lesbians and gay men. These appeared in local or regional queer publications, such as Letters from CAMP Rehoboth and the Washington Blade. Within a year, I had compiled a list of key individuals to interview. However, I also interviewed lesbians, gay men, transgender individuals, and heterosexuals who lived or worked in Rehoboth sometime during the bookās main timeframe (1970s-2000s). I sought diversity in background and perspective. To facilitate their memories, I provided a set of questions before we met. I often had photos, letters, or other memorabilia to prime their memories during our conversation.
BLADE: Under the heading of the more things change, the more they stay the same, the act of making homosexuality an issue in politics continues to this day. What do you think it will take for that to change?
SEARS: You pose a key question. Those who effectuated change in Rehoboth ā queers and progressive straights ā sought common ground. Their goal was to integrate into the town. As such, rather than primarily focus on sexual and gender differences, they stressed values held in common. Rather than proselytize or agitate, they opened up businesses, restored houses, joined houses of worship, and engaged in the townās civic life.
To foster and sustain change, however, those in power and those who supported them also had to have a willingness to listen, to bracket their presuppositions, and to engage in genuine dialogue. Violent incidents, especially one on the boardwalk, and the multi-year imbroglio of The Strand nightclub, gradually caused people to seek common ground.
That did not, however, come without its costs. For some ā long separated from straight society ā and for others ā unchallenged in their heteronormativity ā it was too great of a cost to bear. Further, minorities within the queer ācommunity,ā such as people of color, those with limited income, and transgender individuals, never entered or were never invited into this enlarging public square.
The troubles chronicled in my book occurred during the era of the āMoral Majorityā and āGay Cancer.ā Nevertheless, it didnāt approach the degree of polarization, acrimony, fake news, and demagoguery of today. So, whether this approach would even be viable as a strategy for social change is debatable.
BLADE: In recent years, there has been a proliferation of books about LGBTQ bars, a subject that is prominent in āQueering Rehoboth Beach.ā Was this something of which you were aware while writing the book, and how do you see your bookās place on the shelf alongside these other books?
SEARS: Queering heterosexual space has been a survival strategy for generations of queer folks. These spaces ā under-used softball fields, desolate beaches, darkened parks, and out-of-the-way bars ā are detailed in many LGBTQ+ books, from the classic, āBoots of Leather, Slippers of Gold,ā to the recently published āA Place of Our Ownā and āThe Bars Are Ours.ā Of course, these spaces did not encompass the kaleidoscope of queer life, but they provide us a historical gateway into various segments of a queer community and culture.
This was certainly true for my book. Unsurprisingly, until The Strand controversy, which began in 1988, all of Rehobothās queer bars were beyond the town limits. There were, however, homosexual watering holes in the liminal sexual space. For instance, you had the Pink Pony on the boardwalk during the 1950s and the Back Porch CafĆ© during the 1970s. So, in this sense, I think āQueering Rehoboth Beachā fits well in this ever-enlarging canon of queer history.
BLADE: As one of the most pro-LGBTQ presidents in U.S. history, how much, if it all, did the Biden Delaware connection have to do with your desire to write āQueering Rehoboth Beach?ā
SEARS: It is just a coincidence. Interestingly, as I was researching this book, I came across a 1973 news story about Sen. Joe Biden speaking at a civic association meeting. One of the 30 or so residents attending was James Robert Vane. The paper reported the senator being āstartledā when Vane questioned him about the ban on homosexuals serving in the U.S. civil service and military. Uttering the familiar trope about being āsecurity risks,ā he then added, āI admit I havenāt given it much thought.ā In Bidenesque manner, he paused and then exclaimed, āIāll be darned!ā
Biden was a frequent diner at the Back Porch CafĆ©, often using the restaurantās kitchen phone for political calls. Like the progressives I spoke about earlier, he had lived in a heteronormative bubbleāa Catholic one at that! Yet, like many in Rehoboth, he eventually changed his view, strongly advocating for queer rights as Vice President during the Obama administration.
BLADE: How do you think Rehoboth residents will respond to your depiction of their town?
SEARS: Well, if recent events are predictive of future ones, then I think it will be generally positive. My first book signing at the locally owned bookstore resulted in it selling out. The manager did tell me that a gentleman stepped to the counter asking, āWhy is this queer book here?āā pointing to the front table of āBeach Reads.ā That singular objection notwithstanding, his plan is to keep multiple boxes in stock throughout the summer.
BLADE: Over the years, many non-fiction and fiction books have been written about places such as Provincetown, Fire Island, and Key West. Is it your hope that more books will be written about Rehoboth Beach?
SEARS: My hope is that writers and researchers continue to queer our stories. Focusing on persons, events, and communities, particularly micro-histories, provides a richer narrative of queer lives. It also allows us to queer the first generation of macro-histories which too often glossed over everyday activists. So, as the saying goes, let a thousand flowers bloom.
BLADE: Do you think that āQueering Rehoboth Beachā would make for a good documentary film subject?
SEARS: Absolutely, although probably not on the Hallmark Channel [laughs]! It would make an incredible film ā a documentary or a drama ā even a mini-series. Because it focuses on people: their lives and dreams, their long-running feuds and abbreviated love affairs, their darker secrets, and lighter moments within a larger context of the countryās social transformation. āQueering Rehoboth Beachā details the townās first gay murder, the transformation of a once homophobic mayor, burned-out bars, and vigilante assaults on queers, the octogenarian lesbian couple, living for decades in Rehoboth never speaking the āL word,ā who die within months of one another. It, too, is a story of how the sinewy arms of Jim Crow affected white Rehoboth ā gay and straight. In short, āQueering Rehoboth Beachā is about a small beach town, transformed generation over generation like shifting sands yet retaining undercurrents of what are the best and worst in American life and culture.
BLADE: Have you started thinking about or working on your next book?
SEARS: The manuscript for this book was submitted to the publisher more than a year ago. During that time, Iāve been working on my first book of fiction. It is a queer novel set in early nineteenth century Wales against the backdrop of the Napoleonic wars and industrialization. I want to transport the reader into an era before the construction of homosexuality and at the inception of the womenās movement. How does one make meaning of sexual feelings toward the same gender or about being in the wrong gender? In the process of this murder mystery, I integrate Celtic culture and mythology and interrogate how todayās choices and those we made in the past (and in past lives) affect our future and those of others.
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a&e features
D.C. Latinx Pride seeks to help heal the community
Much history lost to generations of colonialism
The Latinx History Project will host its 18th annual Latinx Pride with a series of 11 events this year.
Latinx History Project, or LHP, was founded in 2000 to collect, preserve and share Latinx LGBTQ+ History. Six years later, they began hosting DC Latinx Pride.
Board member Dee Tum-Monge said organizers saw a need for the event that centered Latinx community members.
“LHP knows our queer history as Latinx folks has most often been lost to generations of colonialism and imperialism,ā they said. āWhich is why we focus on documenting and highlighting the impact our community has in D.C. and beyond.ā
According to UCLA School of Law, there are more than two million Latinx LGBTQ adults that live in the U.S.
āEvents specifically for the Latinx community are important not only to make our experience visible but also to create spaces where we can grow closer with other groups and each other,ā said Tum-Monge.
This year they kicked off DC Latinx Pride with a crowning ceremony for their royal court on May 31.
Their three-part series, āLa SanaciĆ³nā, is underway with part two planned for June 16.
āSanaciĆ³n in Spanish means āhealingā which is a big part of what we want to bring to Pride,ā said Tum-Monge. āOur communities go through a lot of trauma and hate, but we know thereās more to us. Our goal is to foster connection with ourselves, nature, community, and spirituality.ā
In conjunction with the series there is a slate of other events; tickets can be purchased at latinxhistoryproject.org/pride.
In addition, Latinx Pride will march in the Capital Pride Parade on Saturday and participate in the festival on Sunday. To stay involved with Latinx History Project after Pride and hear more about future events visit latinxhistoryproject.org.
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