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‘Freeheld’ reminds us that quest for equality isn’t easy

In this era of Kim Davis, we can’t afford to be complacent

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LGBT film, gay news, Washington Blade
LGBT film, gay news, Washington Blade

Julianne Moore and Ellen Page in ‘Freeheld.’ (Photo by Phil Caruso; courtesy Lionsgate)

“You can’t be her life partner,” the admissions person in the hospital oncology department told me when I wanted to be with my late partner Anne who would soon undergo surgery. “You’ll have to be her sister to come in here.”

I flashed back to my encounter with entrenched inequality in 2001 before most of us had even dreamed of marriage equality, when I saw the newly released movie “Freeheld.” The film, inspired by the 2007 Oscar-winning documentary of the same name, is based on the true story of a Ocean County, N.J. lesbian couple – a detective, Laurel Hester (Julianne Moore) and her partner Stacie Andree, a mechanic (Ellen Page).

Laurel and Stacie meet, date, dance, fall in love, move in together and register as domestic partners. When Laurel becomes terminally ill with lung cancer, she wants Stacie to receive her pension when she dies. But even though the two are domestic partners, the County freeholders insist that giving Laurel’s pension to Stacie would “violate the sanctity of marriage.”

“Freeheld,” with Michael Shannon as Laurel’s partner Dane Wells on the police force, and Steve Carell as LGBT activist Steven Goldstein, depicts the arduous battle the couple must fight in the last months of Laurel’s life for an essential benefit that hetero married couples take for granted. In the documentary “Freeheld,” Laurel says on her death her pension would go to Stacie, “were it not the for fact that we’re not a heterosexual couple.”

“Freeheld” is a vivid and moving reminder that the quest for queer equality isn’t an impersonal, orderly campaign. Sure, to achieve justice, you need to have an incisive legal and media strategy along with the support of celebs and politicos. Yet, our struggle isn’t only waged by queer activists, renowned litigators or famous actors. Often, “ordinary” LGBT people from cops to teachers to waiters to mechanics to poets, who have no taste for activism or the limelight, must fight for their civil rights at the gut-punching, personal, messy solar plexus of life.

I remember insisting to a paramedic that I should be told what was going on with Anne after she’d had a seizure. “Are you related to her,” he asked. “Is she just your roommate?”

My friend Shannon’s late partner Letty was a Presbyterian minister. In 2005, after Connecticut legalized civil unions, Letty and Shannon along with three other couples who’d also had civil unions and friends from their church, had a ceremony at their home. Yet, because Letty died in 2007 before same-sex marriage was legalized by the Supreme Court, Shannon is still struggling to receive Letty’s pension from the Presbyterian Church. Because Letty died before SCOTUS’ marriage decision, “I had to pay federal inheritance tax,” Shannon told me.

In “Freeheld,” we see Laurel and Stacie not only speaking before the County freeholders but coping with hair loss, nausea, weakness and other graphic details of Laurel’s illness and treatment. “Stacie and I are just average people,” Laurel tells the freeholders. “We’d like to hold on to our house – to remember how much we love each other.”

“In my career I’ve never asked for special treatment, I’m only asking for equality,” adds Laurel, who’s been a policewoman for 23 years.

Watching “Freeheld,” it seemed as if centuries have passed a mere decade after Laurel and Stacie so valiantly fought for justice. Today, a same-sex married couple in their situation wouldn’t have to fight this battle. “When [the Supreme Court] finally made the decision it was like a sigh of relief,” Moore told the New York Times. “Because you realized we have changed as a culture.”

“Freeheld” brings Laurel and Stacie’s story to a wide audience. Let’s honor these heroes by remembering our history and working for justice. There’s been a sea change in the cultural landscape since “Freeheld.” But in this era of Kim Davis, we can’t afford to be complacent.

 

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

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Opinions

GLAA’s 2026 primary election ratings show candidates agree on basics

We applaud all who are standing up for human rights in D.C.

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(Graphic by Fredex/Bigstock)

Our local elections in D.C. this year will be the most consequential in a long time, as we will get a new mayor, several new Council members, and a new delegate to Congress. It also comes amid the most intensive and far-ranging federal attacks on our self-determination in the history of Home Rule, along with concerted efforts to deprive members of our communities of their rights and well being. As always, GLAA publishes our policy brief and ratings on candidates to help inform voters as they make these momentous decisions. This year, our policy brief and candidate questionnaire are a recommitment to promoting the basics: basic human rights, basic human needs, and basic human decency.

Though GLAA does not issue endorsements, we do rate candidates. Of the candidates who responded, mayoral candidate Janeese Lewis George, and Ward 1 Council candidates Rashida Brown, Miguel Trindade Deramo, and Aparna Raj received a +10, the highest possible rating a candidate can receive from GLAA. This indicated strong agreement with GLAA, thoughtful answers, and an impressive record of action on the issues presented in our brief and policy questionnaire. Other high scores include Oye Owolewa, the highest scoring candidate for the Council At-Large primary election, with a score of 9, and Doni Crawford, who scored the highest in the Council At-Large special election, with 6.5.  

For the 2026 primary and special elections, candidates are in broad agreement with GLAA’s policy priorities. In seven out of 10 of our priorities, each candidate indicated agreement. Total consensus on core issues signals that whomever is elected to Council and mayor, we should expect to hold our elected officials accountable to our goals of protecting home rule, resisting federal overreach, advancing transgender healthcare rights, and eliminating chronic homelessness in the District. Other areas of agreement include ending food insecurity, building equitable energy infrastructure, and ensuring robust access points to public benefits. While candidates agree on the basics, they distinguish themselves in the depth and creativity in their responses, and their record on the issues. To read and review their responses in depth, visit glaa.org or outvotedc.org.  

As D.C.’s oldest LGBTQ advocacy organization, we know the power that queer people have in local elections. Our queer siblings are among the privileged and the dispossessed. For our communities, this can be an opportunity and an obligation. GLAA’s policy brief is an invitation and call to action. When we do better to support those at the margins, we see an increase in our collective wellbeing. Using a “queer lens” we can see radical and concrete ways that the District can use our power to uplift us all.

We hope the candidate ratings, their responses, and our policy brief are useful to the community as we make decisions during this consequential year. We applaud all who are standing up for D.C., for human rights, for civil rights. We invite you to join us in the work to create the queer future we all deserve.


Benjamin Brooks is president of GLAA; Darby Hickey is secretary.

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Ghana

Intersex lives, constitutional freedom, and the dangerous future of Ghana’s Human Sexual Rights and Family Values Bill

Lawmakers continue to consider draconian measure

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(Bigstock photo)

There is a dangerous silence surrounding intersex lives in Ghana — a silence shaped by fear, misinformation, cultural misunderstanding, and institutional neglect. Today, amid discussions around the possible passage of the Human Sexual Rights and Family Values Bill, 2025, that silence risks becoming law, reinforcing exclusion and deepening the marginalization of already invisible lives. 

Much of the national debate surrounding the bill has focused on LGBTQ+ identities. Yet buried within it are implications for intersex persons that many Ghanaians do not fully understand because intersex realities remain largely invisible. 

Intersex persons are born with natural variations in chromosomes, hormones, reproductive anatomy, and/or genital characteristics that do not fit typical definitions of male or female bodies. Intersex is not a sexual orientation or gender identity. It is a biological reality. Ghana’s Commission on Human Rights and Administrative Justice (CHRAJ) has clearly acknowledged this distinction. 

Despite this distinction, the bill mistakenly collapses intersex realities into a legal framework linked to LGBTQ+ criminalization. 

Although the bill contains only limited references to intersex persons, under certain medical exceptions, these references do not amount to recognition or protection. Instead, they frame intersex bodies as abnormalities requiring regulation, correction, and institutional management. This approach is inconsistent not only with Ghana’s constitutional guarantees of dignity, equality, privacy, and liberty, but also with emerging African and international human rights standards. The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights Resolution on the Promotion and Protection of the Rights of Intersex Persons in Africa – ACHPR/Res.552 (LXXIV) 2023 affirms protections relating to bodily integrity, dignity, freedom from discrimination, and against harmful medical practices. Additionally, the United Nations has repeatedly condemned medically unnecessary and non-consensual interventions on intersex children. Rather than affirming the humanity and autonomy of intersex persons, the bill risks legitimizing systems of surveillance, coercion, violence, and institutional erasure. 

This is not protection.

It is managed erasure.

A child born intersex in Ghana already enters a society shaped by secrecy and stigma. Families are often pressured to hide intersex children or seek “correction” to make their bodies conform to social expectations. 

The bill risks intensifying this pressure.

Clause 17 creates space for “approved service providers” to support interventions relating to intersex persons, yet offers little protection around informed consent, bodily autonomy, confidentiality, or coercive treatment. Under the language of “correction” or “support,” harmful interventions may become normalized. 

The intersex community has documented painful lived experiences of intersex Ghanaians that reveal the devastating consequences of stigma and invisibility. 

One heartbreaking case involved intersex twins born in Ghana’s Eastern Region in 1993, who were repeatedly forced to move from village to village because of rejection and ridicule. After losing their father, their main source of protection and support, they became even more vulnerable and reportedly experienced severe emotional distress, including suicidal thoughts linked to years of stigma and exclusion. This is what invisibility looks like in practice. 

Another painful example is the story of Ativor Holali, whose lived experience exposed the cruel realities intersex persons face in sports and public life. Ativor Holali endured invasive scrutiny, public humiliation, and social suspicion because her body did not conform to rigid expectations of femininity. Rather than being protected as a Ghanaian athlete deserving dignity and privacy, she became the subject of speculation, gossip, and institutional discomfort.

Her experience reflects a broader social crisis: when society insists that every body must fit a narrow binary definition, intersex people are forced to defend their humanity in spaces where dignity should already be guaranteed.

Intersex Persons Society Of Ghana (IPSOG)’s Ŋusẽdodo research further revealed that approximately 70 percent of intersex respondents reported depression, anxiety, trauma, or severe emotional distress linked to medical mistreatment, family rejection, bullying, and social exclusion.

The bill risks transforming these existing prejudices into institutional policy. Several provisions risk deepening surveillance, restricting advocacy, weakening confidentiality, and discouraging public education around intersex realities. Intersex-led organizations providing healthcare guidance, legal referrals, psychosocial support, and community services may face serious challenges.

This places IPSOG and other intersex-led organizations in Ghana at serious risk.

For many intersex Ghanaians, these spaces are not political luxuries.

They are survival mechanisms.

Governments derive legitimacy by protecting the natural rights of all persons, including dignity, liberty, bodily autonomy, and freedom from arbitrary interference. The bill raises concerns because it risks weakening these protections for intersex persons through surveillance, coercive interventions, and restrictions on advocacy.

Ghana’s Constitution declares that “the dignity of all persons shall be inviolable.” Articles 15, 17, 18, and 21 specifically protect dignity, equality, privacy, expression, and freedom of association. These protections should apply equally to intersex persons. 

Intersex persons are not threats to Ghanaian culture.

Intersex children are not moral dangers.

Intersex bodies are not political weapons.

They are human beings deserving dignity, healthcare, safety, and constitutional protection. 

The true measure of a democracy is how it protects those most vulnerable to exclusion. At this moment, Ghana faces a choice: deepen fear and silence, or uphold dignity, bodily autonomy, and constitutional freedom for intersex persons. 

History will remember the choice we make.

Fafali Delight Akortsu is the founder and president of the Intersex Persons Society of Ghana (IPSOG).

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A case of retaliation, not stalking

Disbelief in how Capital Pride Alliance continues to portray me

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Darren Pasha (Photo courtesy of Pasha)

You don’t know me, but you have heard of me. What you’ve heard are rumors, stories, and narratives repeated by others. People often prefer labels and gossip over facts because it is easier than asking questions. But truth does not stay buried forever; it eventually comes forward.

I am grateful to the Washington Blade and Lou Chibbaro Jr., who has written multiple articles about this case. But I want to be clear: This matter is about retaliation, not stalking. Since I raised concerns during World Pride month, several individuals connected to Capital Pride Alliance have resigned or stepped away. One of them was Ashley Smith. Whether he resigned or left under pressure, there has been no clear explanation provided.

What matters to me is that I chose to speak up when I believed I was treated unfairly. Many people stay silent out of fear of backlash or social consequences. I chose not to remain silent. I am reserving many details for trial, where facts will be examined properly. I am confident in representing myself.

Under D.C. law, an Anti-Stalking Order requires two or more qualifying incidents, with at least one within 90 days before filing. That timing requirement is important. CPA intends to present numerous individuals, but I will address how those claims fit the legal standard in court. I recognize only a few of the individuals mentioned, and there are inconsistencies I will respond to in the proper setting.

I do not accept the label often used online to describe me. From the beginning, my position has been consistent: The truth will be established through the legal process.

My concerns began during World Pride when I confided in someone I trusted, June Crenshaw. I believed I was speaking to someone supportive. My experience since then has been one of feeling misled, which I consider a betrayal.

This case is retaliation, not stalking.

Crenshaw wrote an opinion piece published by the Blade that reflected advocacy more than neutral reporting. It suggested broader social implications and directly referenced me. It also framed court rulings in a way that implied risk, even though the order was limited and modified.

Opinion writing can influence public perception while legal matters are ongoing.

The article also questioned my visibility and framed it in a negative way, which feels discouraging to my ability to respond publicly.

The article suggested the court failed by modifying the order and allowing access to community spaces, implying danger simply because the outcome was not fully aligned with CPA’s position. I believe the court acted within its authority.

At this point, it feels as though CPA would prefer my exclusion from their spaces. That is difficult, given that CPA promotes pride, inclusion, and visibility in Washington, D.C.

I continue to believe that accountability and clarification will come.

Truth is established through evidence, not repetition. I will continue addressing these matters through the legal process rather than public speculation. I also want to emphasize that my intention has never been to escalate conflict outside of proper legal channels, but rather to ensure that my concerns are documented and addressed in a structured setting. I understand that public discussion can often blur important distinctions, which is why I am focusing on the court process itself. I am prepared to respond to all claims with evidence and clarity when the time comes, and I expect that process to provide a full and fair opportunity for the record to be examined. My position remains consistent throughout, and I will continue to rely on facts rather than speculation as this matter proceeds forward. I also recognize that misunderstandings can arise when information is shared in fragments, as the legal proceedings move forward in a careful and orderly manner based on evidence in court. I will let the facts speak for themselves in court proceedings. 


Darren Pasha is a D.C.-based LGBTQ advocate. 

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