a&e features
‘Queering Rehoboth Beach’ 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. Sears’s revealing new book “Queering Rehoboth Beach: Beyond the Boardwalk” (Temple University Press, 2024). As educational as it is dishy, “Queering Rehoboth Beach” provides readers with everything they need to know (and possibly didn’t 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, it’s been a few years since I’ve interviewed you. The last time was in 1997 about your book “From Lonely Hunters to Lonely Hearts: An Oral History of Lesbian and Gay Southern Life.” 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 “Queering Rehoboth Beach: Beyond the Boardwalk” (Temple University Press, 2024), you write about how a “restaurant incident” 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 reader’s interest by personalizing this book more than I have others. The restaurant anecdote is the book’s backstory. It explains, in part, my motivation for writing it, and more crucially, introduces one meaning of “queering Rehoboth.” That is, in order to judge this “incident”—and the book itself—we need to engage in multiple readings of history, or at least be comfortable with this approach. I underscore that what is accepted as “history”—about an individual, a community, or a society—is simply a reflection of that era’s accepted view. Queering history challenges that consensus.
BLADE: Who do you see as the target audience for “Queering Rehoboth Beach?”
SEARS: Well, certainly if you have been to Rehoboth or reside there, this book provides a history of the town—and its queering—giving 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: “Queering Rehoboth Beach” 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 “Cast of Narrators.” Before these interviews, I engaged in a systematic review of local and state newspapers, going back to Rehoboth’s 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 book’s 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 — queers and progressive straights — 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 town’s 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 — long separated from straight society — and for others — unchallenged in their heteronormativity — it was too great of a cost to bear. Further, minorities within the queer “community,” 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 “Moral Majority” and “Gay Cancer.” Nevertheless, it didn’t 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 “Queering Rehoboth Beach.” Was this something of which you were aware while writing the book, and how do you see your book’s place on the shelf alongside these other books?
SEARS: Queering heterosexual space has been a survival strategy for generations of queer folks. These spaces — under-used softball fields, desolate beaches, darkened parks, and out-of-the-way bars — are detailed in many LGBTQ+ books, from the classic, “Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold,” to the recently published “A Place of Our Own” and “The Bars Are Ours.” 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 Rehoboth’s 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 Café during the 1970s. So, in this sense, I think “Queering Rehoboth Beach” 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 “Queering Rehoboth Beach?”
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 “startled” when Vane questioned him about the ban on homosexuals serving in the U.S. civil service and military. Uttering the familiar trope about being “security risks,” he then added, “I admit I haven’t given it much thought.” In Bidenesque manner, he paused and then exclaimed, “I’ll be darned!”
Biden was a frequent diner at the Back Porch Café, often using the restaurant’s kitchen phone for political calls. Like the progressives I spoke about earlier, he had lived in a heteronormative bubble—a 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, “Why is this queer book here?”— pointing to the front table of “Beach Reads.” 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 “Queering Rehoboth Beach” would make for a good documentary film subject?
SEARS: Absolutely, although probably not on the Hallmark Channel [laughs]! It would make an incredible film — a documentary or a drama — 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 country’s social transformation. “Queering Rehoboth Beach” details the town’s 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 “L word,” who die within months of one another. It, too, is a story of how the sinewy arms of Jim Crow affected white Rehoboth — gay and straight. In short, “Queering Rehoboth Beach” 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, I’ve 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 women’s 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 today’s 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
Margaret Cho returns to music with ‘Lucky Gift’
Collection of pop tunes includes tribute to non-binary people

LOS ANGELES — It has been eight years since Margaret Cho released her Grammy-nominated “American Myth” album. She’s back to the music scene with her new album, “Lucky Gift,” an 11-track collection of anthems and pop tunes, a tribute to Robin Williams, and a shout-out to non-binary and gender non-conforming people.
The album captures the whirlwind that is Margaret and all of the different facets of her talents that have made her a powerhouse in entertainment and a leader in activism. In “Lucky Gift,” she’s getting her point across while having fun and getting glam.
We caught up with the activist and artist to chat about her music, our political climate, and the power of pop divas.
Known for her comedy, acting, and activism, she felt it was long overdue to get her music back out there too.
“I make music often. It’s a part of my daily life, it’s a big part of my social life, and it’s just something that I just love to do for my own relaxation and fun. I had enough for an album and I wanted to finally put them out. I was just really proud of how it all sounded together,” shares Cho.
“It’s a power pop record. For me, the songs are really meaningful. They’re all in their own way love songs. I’m a big fan of my own music (laughs), I really like the way that I sound and it’s really special to do. People know me as a comedian, and I have also made music for a long time, but it’s sort of a side project, and so it was time to put more out again.”
Her album also includes a touching tribute to Robin Williams. The entertainment community is finally more comfortable talking about mental health more openly. When relating mental health to her own life, Margaret, in true Margaret form, quickly turned the conversation to reflect today’s political climate.
“I have to maintain a level of peace and quiet and sometimes maybe get away from the news, although that’s tough because I am obsessed. I want to know what is happening. I’m really worried for our community, especially the trans community. I’m worried that this administration is trying to separate T and the Q from the LGBTQIA, and it’s really frightening.”
As an elder, Cho says she has to also remember that we’ve been through this before and it’s actually been much worse. As a community, we’ve been through a similar situation, and we were facing down a pandemic, which was killing us by the millions. So at least now we don’t have to fight AIDS as well as this onslaught of homophobia.
“We have fought for our rights, and we still have them, but we may not have them for long. So our mental health is very important to preserve now because we have to fight. The one thing to remember is they can’t do everything at once. They can’t take away trans rights, queer rights, gay rights, gay marriage, anti-depressants —ha — at the same time. So what we can do is just try to remain as calm as possible and fight as strongly as we can. But yeah, mental health is really vitally important right now.”
Margaret’s long history of queer activism stands for itself. She does not shy away from current issues, she uses her platforms to incite, educate, and question. For Margaret, there is no time off from being an activist. She was born into it, so to speak, being raised in San Francisco in the 1970s, her parents — the owners of a gay bookstore — and their employees followers of Harvey Milk.
“My activism is that I don’t have a choice. I’m going to be an activist no matter what. We’re doing this together, we’re going through this together. I will always be political. It’s just disheartening to see the ignorance of people and the lies that are being told that are believed.”
Margaret’s “Lucky Gift” comes at a perfect time when the queer community can come together over music. Cho looks at her album as a tool to empower an underdog community through the power of music.
“It’s the triumph of pop above all. We need to look to our pop divas above all. So now I’m more than ever, leaning on Madonna. [Thank God for Lady Gaga’s] “Abracadabra” because I think that things like that boost our community so much. When you can just get together and have a “brat summer,” that boosts our community so much in this togetherness, this explosion of excitement. I think Chappell Roan really ignited the pop capacity for healing. I love ‘Lucky Gift’ because it is my stepping into a pop diva moment. Pop divas should not be discounted for how important they are to our society and how much they lift us up.”
In addition to releasing her new album, Cho will continue to hit the road this year with her “Live and LIVID! Tour,” celebrating more than four decades of live stand-up shows. On this tour, she promises to rage about homophobia, sexism, racism, and the fight to stay alive. The five-time Grammy and Emmy-nominated performer is not holding back. According to her, the nation is not divided, just a little lost.
“We’re not divided. Everybody hates this. We all hate this. The fact is, the majority of the country does not want this. Unfortunately, a lot of people just didn’t vote because they just didn’t want to participate. That’s why we’re in the situation that we’re in. So to be on the road is a pleasure. And I rarely come against opposition. Every once in a while there’s something, but it’s something that we all handle. I think we all need a voice, a strong voice of reason to combat all of the hysteria.”
And her message to her fans?
“We’ll get through this. We’ll get through this with pop divas. ‘Abracadabra,’ learn the choreography, you do it sitting down. At least we have pop music, I have my hat in the ring here. But at least we have each other and we’re going to be OK. It’s going to be a ride, it’s going to be intense, but we can do this. We’ve been through this before and we are going to be fine.”
“Lucky Gift”is now available on all major streaming platforms.
a&e features
Meet the people giving a voice to LGBTQ truck drivers
‘Like therapy,’ finding solace in each other and the road

Before embarking on his weekly 2,000-mile trip as a truck driver, Derric Schmid sets up his smart TV and preps meals in bulk like ham and potatoes.
To some, long hours on the road away from family and friends sounds grueling. But for Schmid, it’s his way of life.
“I love the freedom,” Schmid said. “I get paid to go see the country. I’ve spent New Year’s Eve in New Orleans, I’ve spent it in St. Louis and this year I spent Christmas out in California exploring.”
Schmid is the vice president and senior diversity officer of LGBTQ+ Truck Driver Network (TDN), a nonprofit he runs with founder Bobby Coffey-Loy. TDN aims to foster inclusivity and safety in the truck driving industry by building a supportive network of allies and queer truckers.
The organization vets companies (Schmid says he calls 50-100 per week) to understand which are committed to creating safe spaces for drivers of all backgrounds. Schmid and Coffey-Loy also host the Big Gay Trucker Podcast, where they interview people who need advice or want to discuss taboo topics.
Coffey-Loy said meeting people from different walks of life, including trans people recovering from surgeries while on the road, inspired him to create TDN.
“It just opened me up to a whole group of people that just needed representation,” Coffey-Loy said. “There are groups out there on [social media] pages, but nobody actually took it as far as a nonprofit organization.”
Coffey-Loy drives with his partner of 17 years, Ricky, for a company called Luna Lines. Together they drive about 6,000 miles a week, taking turns sleeping or keeping one another company. On Monday, they typically start a load in Jacksonville and then drive to New Mexico, Chicago, Baltimore, Tennessee and end up back home in Palm Coast, Fla., by Friday. They even pay for all their gas and food while on the road.
Doing a weekly cross-country road trip in tight quarters with your partner can be trying, and Coffey-Loy will be the first to admit that: “Your partner is someone that knows how to push your buttons faster than anybody else,” he laughed.
But he also said starting truck driving together eight years ago is what made him and his husband closer. Before driving, he said it felt like life and jobs sometimes got in the way of their relationship. Going to trucking school together and being able to support each other on the road over the years has sparked a different kind of connection in their lives.
“We didn’t want to be apart from each other, so that’s what made trucking work for us,” he said.
For both Schmid and Coffey-Loy, truck driving runs in the family. Schmid, who’s been driving trucks for almost 24 years and with TDN for more than two, calls Jonestown, Pa., home –– a borough with a 2023 population of 1,645. He had three uncles and a grandfather who were truck drivers.
Coffey-Loy, born and raised in West Virginia, said his father and grandfather were truck drivers.
Continuing family tradition is respectable enough, but Coffey-Loy’s mission of creating a safe and supportive space for those in the industry was unique; it was difficult for his parents to accept his identity when he first came out.
Coffey-Loy’s parents passed away 11 months apart last year. He said they learned to grow to love him for who he was. When TDN started up, they became “mom and dad to everyone,” and even invited people with no familial structure to move in with them.
At get-togethers, his dad called everyone “sweetie” or “honey” to be respectful since he didn’t know how everyone identified.
“What they’ve taught me is, if they can change their mind and they can accept everybody, anybody can,” Coffey-Loy said. “I will cherish it forever. I miss them every day.”
And the impact of this lesson has been tried and true. TDN attended the Mid-America Trucking Show despite receiving death threats and facing extra security measures –– yet they ran through dozens of handouts before their station even opened. Another year, they handed out condoms to promote safe sex on the road and were met with backlash –– yet they went through a whole box on the first day.
The team behind TDN may be small –– about eight people –– but Schmid said their reach is wide. Thousands of people visit their social media pages from around the world and connect with each other, including a vocal German bus driver and a man from Africa trying to create more queer visibility in his area.
Coffey-Loy said many people contact him directly for support. There was a straight man who called who had trouble balancing his home life and truck driving hours and expressed suicidal thoughts. The man said he saw Coffey-Loy’s number and needed someone to talk to.
Moments like those are why Coffey-Loy emphasizes that the organization is there to support everyone, not solely the LGBTQ community. He recalled a bonfire gathering where people of different backgrounds and identities laughed and talked as friends.
“It’s why you do what you do,” Coffey-Loy said.
Although TDN has given many people a family away from home, it doesn’t make losing time with family and friends any easier. Coffey-Loy missed a family member’s funeral in West Virginia because he was in New Mexico and couldn’t abandon his load.
“He had already been buried before I could get back,” he said.
It’s a different way of life, but it’s not an impossible one. Schmid calls his mom and stepfather every morning and his mom again in the evenings. He gets on group calls with friends and TDN members. On weekends, Schmid sees some friends in person for dinners, and is able to visit with his family.
Truck driving may mean frequently saying goodbye to close people in his life, but it also opens the door to new connections around the country: “I got friends in every state,” Schmid said.
Although he’s constantly traveling, Coffey-Loy always feels at home. It’s those nights driving, with nothing but the roaring hum of the road filling the silence while his husband sleeps behind him, that fulfill him.
“Even though you miss so much of your everyday life, there’s something about trucking that is so freeing,” Coffey-Loy said. “The road can be so loud in your life, and it has a way to really sort out things. It’s like therapy for me.”
a&e features
Saldaña triumphs amid ‘Emilia Pérez’ collapse at Oscars
Karla Sofía Gascón loses top award to Mikey Madison after scandal

It’s no wonder the camera caught actress Michele Yeoh crying after watching queer singer Cynthia Erivo (nominated for best actress) and Ariana Grande (nominated for best supporting actress) perform one of the much-loved songs from “Wicked,” as they were simply magnificent.
Grande opened with Judy Garland’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” and Erivo sang “Home” from “The Wiz.” That was one of the many bright spots in the 97th annual Academy Awards, which took place Sunday night at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood.
While the duo sadly didn’t take away any awards, the magical film did — gay costume designer Paul Tazewell won the Oscar for Best Costume Design.
“This is absolutely astounding,” Tazewell enthused onstage, in his acceptance speech. “Thank you Academy for this very significant honor. I’m the first Black man to receive a costume design award for my work on ‘Wicked.’ I’m so proud of this.”
In the pressroom, Tazewell elaborated on his well deserved win.
“This is the pinnacle of my career. I’ve been designing costumes for over 35 years,” he said. “Much has been on Broadway and now into film, and the whole way through there was never a Black male designer that I saw that I could follow, that I could see as inspiration. And to realize that that’s actually me, it becomes a ‘Wizard of Oz’ moment, you know, it’s like no place like home. So to come back to the inspiration being inside of me was — is really remarkable.”
Tazewell said he achieved the award with the help of a lot of really amazing and talented costume artisans of all types and an amazing staff and assistants and crew.
“Because, you know, there’s no way for me to do it alone! And that also is my greatest joy — to be collaborating with other very talented artists, so I respect what that artistry is, and I share this with them because I value what their input is.”
The veteran costume designer knew the movie was going to be pretty spectacular, but he was “absolutely blown away,” because of their approach.
“We were working on two films at the same time. It wasn’t until I actually saw a pretty complete cut that I actually experienced the journey that we have created for audiences. And so, to experience that –I was beside myself. And it defined why I do costume design, why I am a costume designer.”
“Wicked” also won the Oscar for Best Production Design.
“Emilia Pérez,” Netflix’s mesmerizing Spanish language, trans crime musical, had a whopping 13 nominations, with first-time nominee Karla Sofia Gascón making history as the first trans woman to be nominated for best actress. This would have been the most nominated foreign film in the history of the Academy Awards.
Unfortunately, after the controversy surrounding her past tweets, the film only won two awards: for best supporting actress (Zoe Saldana) and best original song (“El Mal”).
While the U.S. is in an era of anti-trans political maneuvering, Sunday night’s broadcast included no mention of trans people.
In the pressroom, during an interview with “Emilia” composers Clément Ducol, Camille, and director Jacques Audiard, a journalist asked if anyone wanted to address what was happening.
Speaking in French via a translator, Audiard said, “Since I didn’t win Best Film or Best Director, I didn’t have the opportunity to speak, but had I had that opportunity, I would have spoken up.”
Saldaña, who starred as Rita, a lawyer who gets enmeshed with the trans cartel leader’s transition, was thrilled to win.
“I am floored by this honor. Thank you to the Academy for recognizing the quiet heroism and the power in a woman like Rita. And talking about powerful women, my fellow nominees, the love and community that you have offered me is a true gift, and I will pay it forward. Thank you so much Jacques Audiard, you are forever a beloved character in my life. Thank you for taking the interest, thank you for being so curious about these women to tell this story to my cast and my crew of ‘Emilia Pérez.’”
Saldaña’s nephew is trans; a few weeks ago, while winning the best supporting actress at the BAFTAs, she told journalists that she was dedicating the award to him.
“I’m dedicating all of these awards and the film ‘Emilia Pérez’ to my nephew, Eli. He is the reason — they are the reason — I signed up to do this film in the first place,” she said. “So as the proud aunt of a trans life, I will always stand with my community of trans people.”
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