Commentary
What I Learned from Joe Biden 45 (Gulp!) Years Ago
Why The Lessons Give Me Hope for 2022

The twin threats that still loom over us — the anti-democratic radicalization of the Republican Party and the persistence of the pandemic — are making this a tough time to appreciate the many first-year successes of the Biden Administration.
We are in an undeniable moment of peril and there is every reason for alarm, but also for hope. I will continue beating the drum on the urgency of passing measures such as the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act, the Freedom to Vote Act, the Protecting Democracy Act, and the Judiciary Act, as well as holding those attacking our democracy accountable.
And in this end-of-year piece, I reflect on how what I learned from President Biden so many years ago gives me hope that in 2022 we can turn a corner. We can prevail in the work of defending and righting our democracy.
It was the summer of the Bicentennial. The summer I first saw a fax machine (which, during several minutes of noise, laboriously spooled out, on a curl of smelly, waxy paper, documents arriving from Wilmington to Washington). The summer after my sophomore year in college. The summer of 1976, when I interned for a then-wunderkind senator named Joe Biden.
Even as a kid, I was into history and politics. I knew that Biden, at the age of 29 — still too young to serve — had defeated a seemingly unbeatable incumbent. I was aware of the horrible car accident following his election, and how he rode back and forth by train to be there with his two little boys at bedtime. I watched Biden become “a liberal who breaks ranks” (as I described him in my diary), a gregarious, energetic, precocious, ambitious young senator.
My diary from 1976 shows me also to have been energetic, precocious, and — sometimes cringe-worthily — ambitious. I had a diverse network of friends and roommates. Despite a cascade of plays, movies, lectures, pleasure reading, and other distractions catalogued in my diary, I was excelling academically. I had succeeded in winning election as Speaker of the Yale Political Union, climbing to the top of the greasy pole among the other greasy pols at a school full of wannabes. And as my diary recounts, in blow by blows, 1976, as it happened was also the year I first had sex. With a woman.
When I reread the diary now, I am struck by how much this 19-year-old kid was doing, how well he was doing, how insightful and passionate he was about so much. And that, indeed, is how I’ve long remembered that year — a time of growth, accomplishment, and adventure.
But the diary also records what I had forgotten: so much second-guessing and self-doubt, a sense of losing ground and erratic confidence, critiques of my friends and myself… so much yearning outpacing my undeniable striving. I had forgotten how much perspective I did not have then on what really mattered, even as I was doing stuff that mattered and wrote endlessly in the diary about wanting to matter.
One of the things I wanted back then was to land a job in Washington. And so I was thrilled when the hotshot young Senator Biden agreed to come speak to the Political Union. After presiding, as Speaker, over his appearance, I wrote in my diary:
February 10: Senator Biden was impressive tonight. Young, energetic, warm, and intelligent. Egotistical to some extent…. I want to work for him…. I want a summer job in DC. This is important, unlike the Speakership. It’ll show that my credentials stand up in the ‘real world’ and will be that critical initial involvement leading to other jobs.
Over the next couple months — while juggling impressive courses and activities, and wrapping up the Speakership — I wrote letters, made calls, and even traveled to DC in hopes of securing an internship. My diary displays the determination and idealism with which, in the midst of my studies and activities, I pursued that ambition. For instance:March 8: A day of firsts and things that would have been orgasmic at one point in my life. Lunch with a congressman (we talked politics and then job), going on the floor of the House, sitting in the Speaker’s chair and standing at the podium where Truman gave the Truman Doctrine speech, where State of the Union speeches are given. Riding in Members Only elevators, hobnobbing with Senator Biden like a friend [but] no definite job…. Biden and I are becoming real chummy. His AA asked me back tomorrow, as the Senator and I kibitzed our time away. Good luck. I want a job so badly….

Then, on April 20, I got the call.
For the next several months, my diary contains voluminous descriptions of an exciting, busy Bicentennial Summer in DC, and my thrills, frustrations, and aspirations as a witness to, and sometime participant in, the activities of an office of a Senator on the go. The numerous entries tended to go like these:
May 25: Attended my first Foreign Relations Committee hearing…. I sat on the stage behind the Senators and entered through the private doors. Funny how when I see the sign STAFF on the elevator, I almost turn away until I realize and then get a kick out of it…. Am going to slowly widen my activities until they see I’m reliable and capable. Did some press work (phoning in ‘actualities,’ quotations on tape from Biden…to radio stations in Delaware). I used a computer research machine, ‘Scorpio,’ to read a report on Rhodesia and took such stuff out on own initiative this evening, having ordered it from the Library of Congress. Tomorrow — sale of nuclear reactors. Must remember that my goal this year should be to know how an office and Congress run…not to make policy. I have eleven years (at least) to go on that….
June 3: To my great joy, I was assigned as the Intern for Foreign Relations. I’ve handled some relatively thorny constituent requests…. I also decided that the only way I would advance from office work (not exactly crap, but not policy-making either) would be to take initiative and show them what I can do. I figured that the one thing I know I’ve gotten from a Yale education that I would not have gotten on my own is the ability to write quickly and well. So, I made impressive inquiries at the Congressional Research Service, including a jaunt to the Library of Congress (where my researcher was shocked and probably a little annoyed to discover that I was younger than he, and not a Legislative Assistant) …. I submitted it to my L.A. [legislative assistant], a former C.I.A. guy who knows everyone in the foreign relations business (!); he seemed pleasantly surprised. I hope he’ll consider it good and timely enough to: A) submit it to Biden, and B) warrant including me, at least as an observer, in the substantive areas of senatoring.
June 9: Started work at Roy Rogers [where I moonlit nights to make some money during that unpaid summer internship].
July 21: Was walking down the hall to the Foreign Relations Committee when [Vice Presidential nominee Walter] Mondale popped out (he has the office right across from us). He began walking right in front of me, and the TV people ran backwards ahead of us with bright lights and cameras. I was flanked with Secret Service — and hadn’t even tried to get into the picture! Couldn’t have done better if I’d tried. Had a low today, too: had to go pick up the Senator’s lunch. Although LA’s do it (and in other offices, it’s one of the high points of an intern’s day), it still rankled.
Even during that long-ago summer, I noted firsthand how much Biden cared about policy and government across a broad range of areas, tapping many sources of expertise and input, putting in the work. I wrote on June 16 that the Senator “does look at every single letter that goes out with his signature. He also rejects drafts and demands a lot — rightfully so.” I saw how engaged he was, and what a people person.
One diary entry, for instance, gives the flavor, recounting an outing at the beach with the Senator and the woman he was then dating whom I was introduced to as Jill — now our First Lady Dr. Jill Biden — whom I liked right off the bat and every time I was with her.
August 1: Yesterday…I went to Delaware to spend time at the Biden picnic for volunteers and supporters…. What a folksy state. The Senator running around clowning and taking pictures in his bathing suit, splashing with his kids in the water. The Governor [Sherman Tribbitt]– ‘howaya, Sherm’ — in loafers and short sleeves walking on the sand. Me playing ‘football’ with Beau and Hunt Biden (7, 6), then taking them in the cold ocean, counting continually to make sure — like a camp counselor — that there were 5 kids all the time, heads above the water and all….The kids gave me something to do other than fawn on the Senator, as I knew very few of the people there. At one point the Senator grabbed me and made a joke about Yale; I had walked in front of someone taking a picture with him — boy, was I embarrassed. He and I bantered a little, in and out of the water — but I still am not sure he knows my name… I still don’t know where I stand. I so want to be a part of things…
Back at school in the fall, I stayed in touch with the Senator’s office, and occasionally heard from him as well — treasuring every contact.
September 27: Got a nice note from Biden…. He says that he is glad I took him up on the suggestion that I keep in touch with ideas for legislation. He said, ‘You have always been a reservoir of ideas. [!] … In light of all your outside interests, I trust your studies are not suffering. Keep in touch… Joe.’
Soon, though, my diary reveals that I was busier than ever — juggling highs and lows of friendships, teaching Sunday School, and diving into a new role as Yale campus co-coordinator for the Carter-Mondale campaign, all while shouldering another challenging course load (my favorite semester at college, it turned out). And throughout, figuring out for myself what it was going to mean to be gay.
Of course, 1976 was a long time ago, and very early in my life. Still ahead of me lay graduating college and law school; the Peace Corps; decades of lawyering and activism; founding and leading the successful and transformative campaign to win the freedom to marry; teaching at Georgetown and Yale; close circles of friends (including, still, the college roommates I had written and worried about, and now, our respective spouses and partners); uncle-hood; travels; and a happy marriage to the man I love. In 1976, I had no way of knowing that this was what life held in store for me — but as I reread the diary, I can see now that the 19-year-old me was finding his way to at least two major lessons that have shaped my life (and been hallmarks of my work) ever since.
First, I learned that year that greatness as in “I want to be great” comes, if at all, from actual service, making a difference for others, rather than from the credentials and things I’d begun the year by pursuing — to be Speaker of the Political Union, or to be in politics for the sake of glory or even attention. I discovered that after striving to get elected Speaker, the actual position didn’t feel as worthwhile as I had thought it would, whereas engaging in debates (and meeting visitors like Biden), my grunt work organizing the campus and helping deliver a Connecticut win for Jimmy Carter, teaching students at Sunday School, and digging as an intern into substantive research — not to mention my actual studies — felt gratifying and proved meaningful.
I was learning for myself the lesson best conveyed in my favorite speech of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s, the one I hang on the wall of every office I’ve had. When they give my eulogy, Dr. King said, “tell them not to mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize — that isn’t important. Tell them not to mention that I have three or four hundred other awards — that’s not important. Tell them not to mention where I went to school…. I’d like somebody to mention that [he] tried to give his life serving others… tried to love somebody. [All] of the other shallow things will not matter…. I just want to leave a committed life behind.”
My diary shows me learning another lesson, too: the power and affirmation that come from not wallowing in the negative, from being hopeful, from focusing on the pathway not the problem, from being kind — to others, and to myself.
While I wince at the young me’s sometimes shallow ambition and excessive judgment (“fancied greatness,” as another hero, Abraham Lincoln, described his youthful sense of self), I am simultaneously proud of what the young me was actually doing — even as he wrestled with what it meant and where he wanted to go. As the young me learned that year to pursue a committed life in a meaningful way, and to be charitable toward others, so older me is again reminded to be kind to my young self, too.

I last spent real time with Joe Biden when the then-Vice President spoke to the more than 1000 advocates and celebrants at Freedom to Marry’s Victory Celebration on July 9, 2015.
“Let me begin by saying I take full credit for Evan” were Biden’s opening words (greeted by laughter). He then shared lessons he’d learned from his father about love, his evolution in understanding gay people, and how he came to support the freedom to marry — even getting out in front a bit to help nudge the Administration along. He recalled his pivotal Senate role in defeating the anti-gay Robert Bork, nominated by Reagan to the Supreme Court. That, in turn, led to the appointment of Justice Anthony Kennedy instead, who went on to write the marriage victory we had worked for and were celebrating.
“In 1983, there was a Harvard Law essay making the constitutional case for marriage equality written by a young man,” Vice President Biden told the audience. “He said, ‘Human rights illuminate and radiate from the Constitution, shedding light on the central human values of freedom and equality.’…. That was the basis upon which I took on Judge Bork.”
“These were not words from an illustrious Supreme Court Chief Justice,” Biden concluded. “These are the words written by Evan Wolfson when he was in law school. Pretty courageous for a 26-year-old kid at Harvard Law School when the future looked so dark and lonely.”
Whether or not his former intern’s law school thesis on marriage, written just a few years after my internship, really had been top of mind in Biden’s thinking as he took on Bork and continued his Senate career, I still appreciated his generosity. It was yet another example of what I know I really learned from him.
When I endorsed him for president, I wrote that “Biden [sometimes] got things I cared about wrong — even, initially, my own work to win the freedom to marry. But, crucially, he has also always shown a willingness to listen and learn, an eagerness to explore new approaches and syntheses, a capacity to empathize and evolve.”
“I have seen firsthand,” I added, “how, unlike Trump, Joe Biden cares about governing, knows how the government works, and will work through it, not war on it…. Biden’s concern for people and deep knowledge and experience give him the ability to bring people together” and to deliver on good ideas to restore our democratic possibilities.
From a wunderkind senator, the embodiment of ambition, Joe Biden came to embody virtues of empathy, faith in government, and hope as a politician, candidate, and now, our president. On him now — and on us — literally rests the future of America as a democracy.
I can’t claim to know President Biden well enough to know every bit of his inner thinking, but from what I’ve experienced in interacting with him , it’s clear that in his own way, too, Joe Biden learned what I began learning under his tutelage: A committed life is found not in just the ambition to be great, but the ambition to “do great” — to do for others. To persevere and put in the work. To listen and to grow. To be kind. To be hopeful, and to convey hope. And, too, and always, the personal matters.
Now, heading into 2022, we must redouble our efforts to help (and push) President Biden and all true democrats. Together we must rally enough Americans to defend liberal democracy, reach for justice, combat inequality, and build America back better. We have to persuade, organize, hang in, maneuver, mobilize, and vote. What I learned as a college kid, and since, sustains my belief that we Americans can, yet again, meet the call to action and rise to the great work this moment and history require.

Vice President’s Remarks, Freedom to Marry Victory Celebration, July 9, 2015
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Evan Wolfson led the campaign to win the freedom to marry for same-sex couples. Since victory in 2015, he advises and assists diverse movements in the US on “how to win,” as well as activists seeking to win marriage in other countries worldwide.
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The preceding piece was previously published on Medium and is republished with permission.
Commentary
On this Transgender Day of Visibility, we can’t allow this administration to erase us
All people deserve to have our experiences included in the story of this country

By KELLAN BAKER | Since 2009, the world has observed Transgender Day of Visibility (TDOV) each March 31. The importance of ‘visibility’ feels especially significant this year, not only as a trans person but for me as a researcher whose career has been centered on equity and inclusion for transgender people. My work over the past 16 years, which has focused on advancing fairness, access, and transparency in health care for gender diverse populations, could not have prepared me for the speed and cruelty at which the Trump administration has worked to literally erase transgender people from public life.
From banning transgender people from serving openly in the military, blocking access to best practice medical care, and making it all but impossible for us to obtain accurate identification documents that match our gender, the impact of these attacks will be felt for years to come. As a scientist dedicated to fostering the health and wellbeing of diverse communities, I am particularly devastated by the intentional destruction of the federal research infrastructure and statistical systems that are intended to ensure the accurate and comprehensive collection of data on the full diversity of the U.S. population.
The importance of data cannot be understated. This makes the efforts by the federal government to remove survey questions, erase variables from key data sets, and stifle research even more alarming. By simultaneously removing access to existing datasets, removing gender (and other key measures, such as sexual orientation, race, and disability) from key surveys, terminating federal funding for research projects that include trans people, and censoring research projects at federal data centers, this administration’s goal is to erase the lived experiences of trans people – with the idea that if we don’t exist in data and in research, the federal government can claim that we don’t exist at all.
Just in the past two months, we’ve seen a rapid decimation of the inclusion of transgender people in federal research and their visibility in the federal statistical system.
Data sets that included gender measures have disappeared from federal websites. Critical data sets used by federal and state policymakers, public health staff, and researchers, such as the Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance System (YRBSS), were removed from the CDC website in response to a Trump executive order that made it the policy of the administration to recognize only two sexes, male and female. Although some datasets have been put back up, gender variables have been removed.
Surveys that had asked about gender identity no longer do. Claiming that the removal of gender identity measures from key national surveys such as the American Housing Survey, Household Pulse Survey, and National Health Interview Survey were “non-substantial,” the Trump administration has essentially skipped the extensive notice and public comment process that is required to make these types of changes—the same process that were used to add gender identity (and sexual orientation) measures.
In addition, attempts to exclude trans people and other communities facing disparities from surveys will result in a lack of large enough sample sizes to conduct quality data analysis, while reducing any chance of analyzing racial and ethnic differences among trans people.
Hundreds of grants supporting inclusive research have been terminated. The unprecedented move of the National Institutes of Health (NIH) to terminate research grants that include transgender people is just one example of this administration’s rush to eliminate funding from active scientific projects. In many cases, similar agencies are also now required to remove gender identity measures from federally supported surveys. Prominent trans health researchers have watched as their research portfolios are halted, work stopped, staff laid off, and participants left without care.
At the Institute for Health Research & Policy at Whitman-Walker, for example, we have already had seven studies terminated, with a financial impact that exceeds $3 million. One of these cancelled grants was a multi-year, longitudinal study in partnership with the George Washington University to explore the impact of structural racism and anti-LGBTQ bias on HIV risk among young queer and trans people of color nationwide. The notices of termination for this and other awards clearly spell out the administration’s disdain for groundbreaking research that seeks to understand and address health disparities related to LGBTQ populations, particularly trans people.
Censoring research. As seen with recent changes implemented by the CDC, the censorship of gender-related terms on federal websites and scientific publications is intended to further the erasure of evidence detailing the disparities faced by LGBTQ people.
On a day dedicated to honoring the lives and contributions of trans people, the impact that these egregious actions will ultimately have on the health and wellbeing of trans and nonbinary people is chilling. Without access to this knowledge, researchers will not be able to examine the repercussions of the harmful policies put forth by this administration and many states across the country, including bans and restrictions that negatively impact trans people’s physical and mental health, economic security, and educational outcomes.
Although there has been an effort by non-government entities to collect and store previously collected data prior to the Trump administration’s purges, state surveys, private research firms, and academics cannot fill the void left by the federal government’s decision to halt data inclusion. Ensuring that public entities and researchers can continue to use these datasets is only one piece of the puzzle being taken on by groups such as the Data Rescue Project and repositories like Data Lumos. Work also continues thanks to the efforts of the U.S. Trans Survey, the California Health Interview Survey (CHIS), and the important research and analysis of both Gallup and The Pew Research Center. Yet, gaps still exist due to threats of federal funding cuts to organizations committed to safeguarding inclusive data assets in the wake of the administration’s continued assault on trans rights.
This administration suggests that removing one of the only tools available for identifying an entire population of people is a “non-substantial” action. This not only questions the intelligence of the American people but is a direct insult to trans folks everywhere. All people deserve to be counted and to have our experiences included in the story of this country. Transgender people have always been a part of this country, and even if our nation’s surveys choose to exclude us, we continue to exist—authentically, unapologetically, and forever visible.
Kellan Baker, Ph.D., M.P.H, M.A., is executive director of the Institute for Health Research & Policy at Whitman-Walker.
Commentary
Children of American service members defend Pentagon DEI policies
Students protested Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth during Germany visit

“And a little child shall lead them.” (Isaiah 11:6)
Since the new U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth began his assault on diversity, equality, and inclusion in the U.S. armed forces, hundreds of students at U.S. military schools in Europe and Japan — the children of American servicemembers stationed overseas — have staged walkouts and other demonstrations to protest the new policies.
When Hegseth visited Stuttgart, Germany — the headquarters of U.S. European Command and U.S. Africa Command — on Feb. 11, more than 50 students from the Alexander Patch Middle School held the first of these protests when they left their classes and gathered in the school’s courtyard for an hour-long protest meeting.
More than a hundred students at the Nile Kinnick High School in Yokosuka, the children of Navy parents and Defense Department employees based at Yokosuka, Japan, the headquarters of the U.S. 7th Fleet, walked out of classes and held a protest in the school’s courtyard on Feb. 21, chanting and carrying banners.
“I love this school; I think one of its strengths is its diversity,” said Kinnick High School senior Chase Hassell, president of the student council and leader of the walkout. “I think we have such a great multicultural community, and I think that it’s important for the development of all children — not just us — to have experience with different people of different beliefs and backgrounds,” Hassell told Stars and Stripes after the demonstration.
And on March 6, hundreds of students participated in demonstrations at Humphrey High School at Camp Humphreys, South Korea, and at Ramstein High School and Kaiserslautern High School in Ramstein, Germany, and Wiesbaden High Schools in Wiesbaden, Germany, carrying signs that proclaimed “Solidary in Diversity,” “Censorship is Un-American,” “Our Classrooms Are Not Your Ideological Battleground,” “This Affects People of Color, LGBTQ+, Woman, and Everyone,” and “More Books, Less Bigots!”
There’s a great deal of anger around the country about what the Trump administration is saying and doing. But anger is not enough. These students are not just angry, they’re actually doing something to fight back. Maybe we all have something to learn from them.
Daniel Volman is the director of the African Security Research Project in Washington, D.C., and a specialist on U.S. national security policy toward Africa and African security issues.
Commentary
Survivors of sex crimes are unsung heroes
Taking trauma and turning it to their advantage

(Editor’s note: This is the second of a two-part story. Click here to read the first installment.)
Last month, I started watching “The X-files.”
For the most part I loved the show, with Agents Scully and Mulder as the primary reasons why. Yet what I found most frustrating was watching their investigations. As early as episode one, set in a small town of scared people guarded by scary men, Agent Scully proposed coincidences while Agent Mulder proposed aliens. Despite the episode having “cult” written all over it, both agents seemed none the wiser.
Recently, I learned the FBI has an open process for writers and other creatives to learn how the agency works. I also discovered the FBI has a history of monitoring writers. In fact, the FBI is about as image-conscious as your typical D.C. gay, making me wonder how the “X-Files” moved forward with little pushback. That’s about as interesting as UFOs being discovered in New Mexico as we tested the atomic bomb.
But if you’re reading this, you likely want me to shut up about the “X-Files” and get back to my story. When I left off, my friend had disappeared and my work cleared me of any wrongdoing. That said, I was mysteriously fired in September 2022—nearly a year after the initial incident—and just six weeks after my boss learned that I wrote books.
The process of my firing was strange, to say the least. First and foremost, I was never given a reason. To this day it remains a mystery. My now-former employer—a high-profile lobbying firm—then bullied me into signing an NDA to access my severance.
By the way, I negotiated up. While I don’t know what I did, I had a feeling I had that power. I was right.
Just prior to the firing, they asked me to bring in my laptop so they could download my files. This rang an alarm for me, primarily because they never gave me a laptop. So, they wanted me to bring in my personal laptop. As a writer with original materials, I reasonably asked what constituted a work file. I never received an answer.
Coincidentally, I met my ex-boyfriend exactly one week before I got fired. He is the same ex-boyfriend from my religion piece, in which I mentioned he fell into hard times. Specifically, I was referring to concerning signs I spotted last April, primarily on the gay apps, and with memories of the last boy still fresh on my mind, I refused to let another slip from my grasp.
So, what did I do? I dove headfirst into hell in a messy attempt to rescue him. After playing this new game of cat-and-mouse in which I was said mouse, allow me to share what I learned: Over the course of several months, I spotted sketchy characters at my ex’s place—characters I suspected dealt hard drugs, which was highly out of character for him. Moreover, I found online accounts promoting extremely suspect pornography and, yes, pimping services on X (formerly Twitter), some of which looked a lot like my ex. While I didn’t know what exactly was happening, I knew something was off, but when I confronted my ex, he denied it.
Being the stubborn asshole that I am, I decided to check these sketchy characters out for myself. It turns out I was spot on about their sketchiness. I learned they not only drug unsuspecting young men in a coordinated manner, but once drugged they sexually violate them and—if drugged enough—begin recording videos. It’s all made to look random yet safe; for example, there always seems to be a nurse in the group who is “experienced” in administering needles.
Once I had proof these people were unsafe, I took further action for my ex. In mid-November, I reached out to someone in his personal life, which was a tough decision since he was closeted. I was strategic and chose someone who knew he was bisexual, and after connecting with her on Instagram, spoke on the phone with her the next morning. Upon hearing my concerns, she agreed based on her own observations.
Apparently, she spotted signs of him being physically harmed over the summer. She and I spoke for hours on end about the situation and how we could help him. Then, just a week later, I lost contact with her and my ex. I haven’t heard from either since.
I eventually grew concerned enough to contact the police and the FBI. In the meantime, particularly following my trauma article, sex workers approached me to share their stories—primarily stories of rape and abuse alongside a power structure rooted in it. As for those who try to oppose this system? They’re often written off as mentally ill.
I don’t know about you, but I refuse to live in a world where young queers are shepherded into this system. That’s the opposite of what I envision for the queer community.
Mid-Atlantic Leather weekend arrived in January, along with more sex workers. Once again, some approached me to share their stories—about their aspirations, about their art, about their perspectives on the world. And once again, about the system of abuse designed against them from the start. I heard stories of young boys raped by their fathers, or friends of their fathers, or about the drugs used to coerce them into sexual activity. Sadly, just like a UFO witness, they are usually written off and never taken seriously, especially if they have a record of drug abuse or mental illness. Seems to be a pattern, doesn’t it?
That said, these men are not solely victims. If anything, they took their trauma and turned it to their advantage. I’d like to take this moment to thank them. They’re unsung heroes—each and every one—in a nation that often shames them.
Yet as proud as I am of these sex workers, my heart was equally broken. These stories were painful to hear, to say the least. I quickly grew paranoid of people around me, even friends at times. There were other times I sat alone in my apartment, bawling over the men I had lost, along with the pain others had experienced. This only strengthened my resolve to end it.
To top this all off, my final discovery came just two months ago. Turns out there’s an X account publicly teasing me about this entire affair. The account even references this column and, according to the receipts, started well before I noticed concerning signs about my ex in the first place.
Hello there, dear X account. It appears you’ve been observing me. Consider this my proverbial tapping back on the glass.
Wow—there seems to be a lot of time, energy, and effort spent on little ole me. Why is that, I wonder? I’ve mentioned before I’m just a measly little barback who has been fired twice. Although looking back, those firings were strange too, weren’t they?
Is it the abuse I uncovered? Is it the details of my lover’s past? Is it something I wrote? Is it a combination of the three? And is it possible that the little dark cloud that’s been following me in D.C. is more intentional than I once thought?
I may never learn the truth on my own, but I can pose another question: what’s the only thing scarier than UFOs? To me there’s just one answer: that UFOs were never real in the first place. Occasionally, answers to unsettling mysteries simply unearth more unsettling mysteries.
I mentioned before in this column that I arrived to D.C. naïve about the world, perhaps just as naïve as Agents Scully and Mulder. Yet in my naiveté I tripped on something: the rot hiding beneath the surface of our nation’s capital. No, it isn’t coincidence. It isn’t aliens, either. But whatever it is, I alone cannot identify it.
Throughout my time uncovering this story, I’ve come across friends, acquaintances, and even relatives who suffered abuse, along with threats or shaming to keep them quiet. They come from all races, creeds, backgrounds, and orientations, and as it turns out, some of the infrastructure of power in D.C. and in towns across this nation are built around it. While I’m ready to tear it down, this isn’t just my story. I might be the one starting it, but it’s not on me to finish.
The most I can do is hand the pen over to the victims. I’ve shared my part. Now it’s their turn. As for the audience: I hope you’re now ready to start believing.
Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer and barback.