Opinions
‘Freeheld’ reminds us that quest for equality isn’t easy
In this era of Kim Davis, we can’t afford to be complacent

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.
Africa
African leaders once again trade African family values for American family values
Anti-LGBTQ conference backed by US-based groups took place this month in Ghana
At the moment, some religious and political leaders in Africa are pushing for a charter on family values, lobbying lawmakers, African state institutions, and the African Union to formally adopt it. In the past number of years, they have been holding conferences across Africa with the support and funding of Western religious donors who, in their own countries, are definitely perceived as racist, hateful, and against women. Most recently, they convened the African Regional Interparliamentary Conference on Family Values and Sovereignty in Accra, Ghana. All this raises critical questions about foreign influence and agendas. At this critical time, when Africa faces so many problems, why do people insist on pushing an agenda that is neither ours nor relevant to our prosperity?
The African leaders who claim to protect African family values and sovereignty, unsurprisingly, exhibit traits similar to those of the historical enslavers and similar collaborators. Contrary to what they claim as “pushing back against foreign influence on the African family” and the infamous sovereignty claims, it has been proven that these leaders are directly linked and backed by the conservative “foreign” groups, including the U.S.-based hate organization, Family Watch International, which is closely linked to the anti-rights authors of Trump’s Project 2025, Heritage Foundation; and the Netherlands-based Christian nationalist organization, Christian Council International, another group closely linked to organizations supporting the Trump administration and its continued hate-based policies and atrocities. One might even argue that they serve these groups, their mandates, and their Western agenda, instead of what they want African people to believe: that they are doing this for the good and prosperity of Africa and its sovereignty. The truth, however, is that their so-called African values, culture, traditions, etcetera, could not be further removed from true African cultural values but instead mimic those outlined in America’s Project 2025. Meanwhile, the very same people who are pushing for these family values under Project 2025 are the very same people pushing for the exploitation of Africa’s natural resources, without any care for the impact their actions have on African people and their livelihoods. Adopting their policies verbatim in Africa and claiming them as our own could easily be seen as counterintuitive and self-betrayal.
Africa’s rich history of family, diversity, womanhood, and matriarchy is too beautiful to erase. Africans, especially women and girls, deserve to know about the likes of Queen Modjadji of the Balobedu people, a fierce leader who is traditionally believed to have rainmaking abilities and notably a distinctively matriarchal dynasty where the reign is passed down from woman to woman, from mother to daughter; or Queen Nzinga of modern-day Angola, who led an army that resisted and fought against the Portuguese colonizers. Queer folks and African spiritualists alike deserve to know how women and gender diverse persons held some of the highest spiritual positions in society, like Mbuya Nehanda of Zimbabwe, who was a deeply respected spirit medium and a leader of the resistance against early colonial rule in Zimbabwe, and the transgender priests, the respected agule and okule, female-to-male and male-to-female shamans of the Lugbara, now the Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda, who led spiritual ceremonies. Even though the mudoko dako of the Langi people in Uganda were known to have been assigned male at birth, they were recognized as a distinct gender that was allowed to marry men. Africans must also know about woman-to-woman marriages that existed in pre-colonial Africa, which, according to research and oral histories, were recognised and served various purposes, from economic and social functions to lineage preservation. Similar practices include those from the Bapedi and Balobedu cultures, ngwetsi ya lapa, which still exists today, where a woman is married into a family or household to raise an heir for the family or to continue the family name, not necessarily the lineage.
As well-intentioned as it may appear, evidence suggests that the African leaders’ draft charter, because of its existing ties to Western ultraconservative partnerships, is neither original nor in good faith. The pace at which they have been moving and their true subsequent agenda should indisputably be questioned and criticised. Regardless of the inclusion of desirable language and terms such as minerals sovereignty and the Ubuntu philosophy, beneath the surface, the charter does not truly reflect these concepts. The charter, instead, does a disservice to African people by misrepresenting Africa’s diversity and disregarding its history as it relates to the diversity of families. The West has no business drafting or helping draft African legislation, especially if the whole of Africa is at risk of their negative impact. One would think the common goal would be to address bread-and-butter issues, such as poverty, unemployment, diseases, and health, to name but a few, instead of pushing the distractive agenda of those responsible for robbing Africa in the first place. No single group is the sole custodian of African knowledge. Africa belongs to all of us, with our diverse families and values, which cannot be defined through a single, narrow lens and are instead very individual issues that will differ from family to family.
Daniel Digashu is a consultant at the Southern Africa Litigation Center (SALC). SALC promotes and advances human rights and the rule of law in Southern Africa, primarily through strategic litigation and capacity-strengthening support to lawyers and grassroots organizations.
Opinions
US no longer refuge for LGBTQ refugees
More than 30 percent of Rainbow Railroad’s 2025 requests for help came from US
I have spent the past eight years leading programs at Rainbow Railroad that support LGBTQI+ people fleeing persecution and violence. What began as a small, volunteer-led effort has grown over the past two decades into an international organization that has supported more than 50,000 people around the world. That growth reflects what is possible when communities choose solidarity in the face of rising hate.
Yet the forces that make Rainbow Railroad’s work necessary have not diminished. In many places, they are accelerating, including in countries like the United States that have historically been viewed as places of refuge for LGBTQI+ people.
In 2025, Rainbow Railroad received a record 20,215 requests for help from people around the world. Over 30 percent of these requests came from people living in the U.S., making it the top country of origin for LGBTQI+ people seeking assistance for the second year in a row. It’s a trend that began following the 2024 presidential election, when 1,177 people reached out for support the day after the results were finalized. That single day generated more than twice the number of requests for help we had received from across the United States during the previous 10 months combined.
The fears reflected in the requests for help we received during those first hours were well-founded. With the stroke of a pen, on his first day in office, the president suspended the US Refugee Admissions Program (USRAP), upending the lives of refugees who were already processed and approved for resettlement in the U.S. Many of these individuals remain in limbo.
Months later, the president authorized a cap of just 7,500 refugees to resettle in the U.S. for fiscal year 2026 and ordered a review of refugees admitted under former President Joe Biden. At the same time, he cut asylum-related services and legal support, making it even harder for vulnerable migrants to navigate an increasingly complex system.
Despite these barriers and increasing hostility, LGBTQI+ individuals continue to seek safety in the United States, often relying on their own resources and determination to flee to the pockets of safety in cities and states that protect their rights.
It is in that spirit that I’ve witnessed the community stepping up to support LGBTQI+ migrants.
Following the collapse of federal programs such as Welcome Corps, which allowed Americans to sponsor refugees looking to resettle in the U.S. Rainbow Railroad launched Communities of Care, a volunteer-driven ecosystem of post-relocation services for LGBTQI+ migrants. Across
the country, volunteers are helping newcomers navigate unfamiliar systems, build social connections, and begin rebuilding their lives.
While volunteers’ commitment has been extraordinary, community-led efforts cannot replace the infrastructure governments have dismantled. Volunteers can offer community, guidance and practical support, but they cannot replace refugee resettlement programs, legal services, or a functioning asylum system. As need grows and public support shrinks, the gap between what communities can provide and what governments should provide continues to widen.
I think often about the LGBTQI+ people Rainbow Railroad helped reach safety in the U.S. over the years. For many, the United States represented possibility, a place where they could finally live openly and without fear. To now see the U.S. become the country generating more requests for help than any other is profoundly alarming.
The question on my mind this Pride month is whether we will collectively meet this moment with the urgency it demands. Governments must restore and strengthen refugee and asylum protections. Volunteers must step up to provide connections to care and community. Donors must support organizations in filling critical gaps. And all of us must recognize that welcoming LGBTQI+ people seeking safety is a responsibility we all share.
Devon Matthews is the chief programs officer for Rainbow Railroad.
Opinions
My trans daughter thrived in Chicago public schools
Washington wants to make that impossible
I am a Chicagoan whose daughter is transgender. But that is not the most important fact about her. My daughter loves fashion, sings in choir, is active at church, and is, by every measure, your classic American teenager.
Yet it is her gender identity that politicians in Washington have once again decided to make their business.
She’s had the benefit of attending school in a district that affirms her, with educators who have added protections for students like her to a contract, in a city that benefits from and believes in diversity.
If the Republican-led Congress that is subpoenaeing the CEO of Chicago Public Schools truly was interested in “inappropriate content” and its impact on students, they would start with the anti-trans state legislation that increases youth suicide attempts by 72%, not the school districts making them feel safe and welcomed. Protecting these kids in school is not a culture war talking point. It is suicide prevention.
But that is not what they are doing. Instead, they are calling to question the head of a school district where Chicago’s values have made our schools safer places for students of every gender, race, and nationality.
The same administration that has yet to investigate the Epstein files but is moving the FCC to put warning labels on television shows that portray inclusive families and characters of different sexualities, is telling on itself in what they think is permissible and what they think is harmful for school-age youth. They say this is about parental rights and children’s well-being, but the parental right I care most about is the right for my daughter and all children to walk into a school building and feel safe and affirmed instead of scared and threatened.
My daughter spent 13 years in Chicago public schools. Her teachers used her chosen name. Her classmates accepted her for who she is. She wore a formal dress at choir concerts, landed a female lead in the school musical, and used the women’s bathroom without anyone batting an eye. When she went to a school dance, her teachers celebrated her like any other student, gushing over her dress, cheering her on. Nobody treated her like a problem to be managed.
That is not luck. That is Chicago. It’s the result of educators who fought hard for these protections. While MAGA has moved other states to bar teachers from even acknowledging LGBTQ+ students, the Chicago Teachers Union ratified a contract that does the opposite. It puts gender support coordinators in every network, codifies protections for chosen names and pronouns, and incorporates CPS guidelines for transgender students into the collective bargaining agreement itself.
Those are not bureaucratic details. They are what stands between a child like mine and the bully who, without them, could decide she does not deserve dignity and hurt her without consequence.
Chicago believes every student, including LGBTQ+ children, belongs in school and deserves to feel safe there. Our city has grit and resolve and a deep sense of pride in the diversity that makes it what it is. I believe that is exactly why this administration has put us in its crosshairs. This is a city that shuts down its streets for the Pride parade, Puerto Rican Day Parade, St. Patrick’s Day, and the Bud Billiken Parade. This is the Chicago I am raising my daughter in. The Republicans in Congress have decided that belief is the problem.
They have already passed a bill to pull federal funding from any school that affirms a transgender student’s identity without first notifying parents. They’re attempting to withhold funds from Chicago and other districts for programs that reverse generations of discrimination and disinvestment. They want to dismantle the Department of Education and have already passed a law to fund private religious schools with public dollars. Putting our school district under the lights of their circus is just one tactic in their political agenda.
I wanted my daughter to read, to do math, to graduate ready for whatever comes next, and find her place in the world. Every parent I know wants that. My daughter recently graduated. She got there because she had good teachers, she applied herself, and she never had to walk into school ashamed of who she was or afraid of what might happen.
It matters to me that my daughter was in a district intentionally seeing to her safety, immigrant students’ sanctuary, and Black students’ success. What they see as a violation is really our city’s commitment to the dignity of all students
What they are running is not a parental rights agenda. It is a defunding agenda against parents, students, and educators who don’t subscribe to their beliefs, and Chicago is just the beginning.
Washington can hold all the hearings it wants, but they’ll never be able to erase children like my daughter. And I pray that our schools will never make children like her think twice before walking through those doors for the most formative years of their lives. Whether they attend a school district that supports them in holding their heads high or one that bends the knee to make them fearful instead is what this fight is actually all about.
Mary Kay Devine is a Chicago resident.
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