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MLB’s support is a real game changer

Iconic American institution now on board with LGBT equality

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MLB, gay news, Washington Blade
MLB, gay news, Washington Blade

(Washington Blade cartoon by Ranslem)

By RYAN WAGNER

Picture this.

You’re in a ballpark. Your team is losing. Big. It’s the kind of game that would have made you leave in the fifth inning – if you were one of those fans who doesn’t believe your team will pull it out until the very last out is recorded. If you were one of those people who gives up.

All of a sudden your team gets a hit. And then another. Nothing special. A ground ball with eyes here, a dying quail there. But the buzz has started. You know the one I’m talking about. When 50,000 people all seem to begin to whisper simultaneously? The buzz.

Another hit, and this one scores a run or two. Now the buzz is a low rumble. Your team is still down, but there’s a glimmer of hope. This one ain’t over yet.

Now comes the big hit. The one that makes the sportswriters who have already written 90 percent of their game recaps stop, sigh and hit the delete button. The low rumble is now a roar. The game hasn’t been won, but the opponent is already defeated, and they’re not sure how it happened. The stars realigned, and that flighty temptress momentum changed her uniform.

In short, the narrative changed.

The fight for LGBT equality has undergone a similar change in narrative recently. For a long time, those battling in the trenches felt as though we were fighting a losing battle — always meeting with a loud, outspoken opposition that either didn’t care or simply didn’t understand. We weren’t exactly losing, but we certainly weren’t winning.

And then, all of a sudden, we got a couple of hits. Nothing big. A ground ball with eyes here, a dying quail there. Massachusetts became the first state to legalize gay marriage. Connecticut would follow, with Iowa and Vermont not far behind. The buzz started. You know the one I mean. When 100 million people all begin to whisper simultaneously? The buzz.

“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”, Prop 8 and DOMA were all struck down. The buzz became a low rumble.

The fight began to spill over into other areas of society, including the world of sports. Jason Collins came out. In light of inflammatory anti-LGBT policies in Russia, President Obama skipped the 2014 Sochi Olympics, opting instead to appoint tennis legend and gay rights champion Billie Jean King to lead the American contingent at the Opening Ceremonies. Michael Sam announced he’s gay prior to the NFL draft and in doing so, became the first openly gay man to sign a contract with an NFL team.

The low rumble became a roar, and the narrative had changed.

As a professional stage actor who also decided to pursue a career in the world of professional sports, I’m somewhat of an anomaly.

The relationships I forged with my friends in the theater world led me to assume that the fight for LGBT equality was on the forefront of the American social agenda. I assumed this because, for those of us traveling North America with a musical, it was simply a part of the vernacular.

In 2011, I was on the road with that musical when I learned I had been hired by Major League Baseball. I would be leaving the bubble that theater had created, and would be making the long, fascinating walk to the other side of the spectrum. In a span of three days, I went from a cocoon where my most important issue was the same as everyone else’s to a world where that issue was never even discussed. It wasn’t that LGBT equality was on the back burner for Major League Baseball. It had yet to make it onto the stove. Professional sports, particularly those considered the “Big 4,” are in many ways the last great bastion of masculinity and demonstrative heterosexuality. Anything that can be deemed a weakness is a liability. Any distraction is removed as quickly and quietly as possible. Which is why the three years that have passed since I first began my career in baseball have been so remarkable.

In a span of just a few years, I have had a front row seat for one of the most astounding, and most important, ideological shifts in social history. Thanks to the immediacy of information and (seriously) the power of social media, LGBT equality has gone from an issue on the periphery of the American agenda to one that finds itself front and center. And the catalyst for that tectonic shift has been sports. When the issue of homosexuality began showing up on the football field and the basketball court, the everyday, blue-collar American sports fan was forced to deal with it. As I watched Jason Collins and Michael Sam announce their homosexuality, my immediate thought was, “When will this tidal wave reach Major League Baseball?”

Baseball is America’s pastime. As James Earl Jones once remarked in “Field of Dreams,” “Baseball…has marked the times.” It has gotten us through some of the most tumultuous times in our nation’s history: World War II, the Civil Rights Movement, 9-11. It stands to reason that baseball would take the lead in this time of great struggle. But when was that going to happen? When was baseball going to realize the opportunity it had to make a statement to not only the rest of the sports landscape, but to the country and the world as a whole?

A few weeks ago, I got my answer. On July 15, Major League Baseball officially announced its partnership with Athlete Ally, an organization dedicated to fostering an environment of acceptance and inclusion for all LGBT athletes, coaches, and fans across all sports, professional and amateur.

When MLB announced that partnership — even Commissioner Bud Selig signed a pledge to become an Athlete Ally himself — it trumpeted a major victory for the entire LGBT community and their allies. Major League Baseball is not just a professional sports league. It is an organization that is American as American gets. It represents all that we hold dear in our most patriotic of hearts, and if something that American can say that being gay is not only OK, but is something worth fighting for, who would dare say otherwise?

There may be nothing more difficult than the growing pains of a transitioning social issue. Most people who have strongly held beliefs derive those beliefs from years and years of indoctrination. Change only comes when those screaming for change outnumber those who are plugging their ears and waiting for the din to quiet. With Major League Baseball now adding its voice to the roaring winds of change, the din may finally be too much to overcome.

In short, the narrative has changed. And now, at long last, maybe, just maybe, that flighty temptress momentum has changed her uniform.

Ryan Wagner is the PA announcer for the Baltimore Orioles.

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Just say no to the felon in the White House

Democrats, media must do more to oppose Trump’s agenda

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President Donald Trump (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

We have a clearly deranged, sick, felon as president, who can’t even remember if he had an MRI, or a CT. He says he takes enough aspirin to keep his blood running thin in his veins. He fakes health reports, and lies every time he opens his mouth. His brain appears foggier than Joe Biden’s ever was.

The felon arranged to get a fake Peace Prize from the soccer federation, while taking military actions around the world. He sanctioned American attacks on Nigeria, Iran, Syria, and now on the government, and people, of Venezuela. He has our military attacking boats, claiming they are carrying drugs, with no proof. He interferes in foreign elections, making the United States less safe. He obviously supports Putin in his war against Ukraine, and supports Netanyahu’s destruction of Gaza, and his starvation of the Palestinian people there. Because of all this it’s understandable why he calls his Secretary of Defense, his Secretary of War. That individual being unqualified with no competence, or decency — the perfect toady for the fascists surrounding Trump. He has a Secretary of State in Marco Rubio who clearly has no principles at all. Rubio previously said, “Donald Trump – a con artist – will never get control of this party…We cannot allow a con artist to get access to the nuclear codes of the United States of America.” He compared Trump to a “third-world strong man.” Now as Secretary of State he justifies all the illegal actions the felon takes.

I, and many others, question “Where is Congress in all this?” Do no Republicans in Congress have any cojones? Two Republican woman have criticized Trump — Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) and Nancy Mace (R-S.C.). Both on the Epstein files, one on screwing the American people with regard to their health insurance. Both are now out of Congress, still MAGA, but found if you disagree with the felon, he sics his cult on you. 

My other question is: When will any in the media really stand up to him? When do mainstream media call out every one of his lies, as he makes them? When do they show any guts, and repeat each day he is deranged? When do they have daily headlines, calling him out on things from his health reports, to lies about the economy? Where are the daily headlines calling out the Republican Congress for its lack of action? Why is there no representative clock on every TV network, ticking off the time Congress doesn’t take back their rightful place as an equal branch of government? When will they call out the Supreme Court, reminding people what Trump’s picks said during their confirmations, versus what they are doing now? When will they actually reclaim ‘The freedom of the press?’ 

Democrats must continue to speak out. I am aware they have little power in this Congress, but they must not remain silent. We have seen, when they do speak up, we win elections. They help the people to wake up, as they did in recent elections in New Jersey and Virginia. In races as distinct as the mayoralty of Miami, where a Democrat won for the first time in 30 years, and did so in a landslide; and Democrats won two special elections for State Senate in Mississippi. In Georgia, Democrats won two seats on the Georgia Public Service Commission, the first time in 20 years they won a statewide seat. And they won a State Senate seat in Iowa, and the redistricting vote in California. 

To continue winning Democrats must remind people every day what the felon, and his fascist cohorts, are doing to destroy their lives. Latinos and Hispanics need a daily reminder, it is the felon who once said he supports them, whose government is now deporting them. Young people must be reminded every day, the felon is destroying the country they will inherit, their future, by denying climate change. Everyone needs daily reminders how he is destroying the health of the country. Ending research grants looking for cures for cancer, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and HIV/AIDS. Ending research grants into curing childhood diseases, development of mRNA vaccines, and other potential progress to protect Americans, and the world, when the next pandemic occurs, and it will. He is literally killing children by having his government speak out against vaccinations for illnesses like measles, considered eradicated before he came into office. 

All of this needs to be headlined each day in our newspapers, and on TV, by the people who still can, and are willing, to do it. Those not bought off by, or afraid of, the felon, and his fascist cohorts. Those who don’t sit with him at Mar-a-Lago, and have become his enablers. We the people need to take to the streets and every time there is an election, use our vote to say to the sick, deranged, felon, and his fascist cohorts, ‘NO MORE’. 


Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.

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A reminder that Jan. 6 was ‘textbook terrorism’

Capitol attack started an effort to make civic engagement feel dangerous

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(Washington Blade file photo by Michael K. Lavers)

Jan. 6 taught us what it costs to defend our families and our communities.

Five years ago, Michael Fanone went to work as a Metropolitan Police Department officer and ended the day fighting for his life while defending the United States Capitol.

After Michael spoke publicly about what he witnessed on Jan. 6, the response was not disagreement or debate. It was intimidation. His mother was swatted in a targeted attack. 

We are not immediate family, but we spend holidays together. Our lives overlap. And that was close enough.

Unpaid pizza deliveries were sent to our homes. Strangers showed up demanding payment. Threats followed, by phone and online. The message was unmistakable: Speaking out against Donald Trump would come at a cost, not only for you, but for your family. 

As Mayor Muriel Bowser said at the time, Jan. 6 was “textbook terrorism.” 

What made this harder was not only the intimidation itself, but the absence of any clear support once the headlines faded. One of us was a Metropolitan Police officer. The other served on the D.C. State Board of Education. If anyone should have known where to turn or had access to guidance or protection, it should have been us. Instead, there were no clear resources to help families deal with harassment, no guidance on what to do when threats followed us home, and no sense that anyone had our backs once the attention moved on. We were left to absorb it quietly and figure it out ourselves.

That experience changed how I understood Jan. 6, not as a single violent day, but as the start of a longer effort to make civic engagement feel dangerous and isolating. You do not have to silence everyone. You only have to make examples of a few.

I know many people in this city recognize that feeling now. The sense that speaking out carries risk. That you cannot afford to lose your job. That scrubbing your social media is safer than risking the consequences. In this context, silence is not necessarily apathy. It is self-preservation.

As a school board member and healthcare navigator, I hear it from families who decide to keep their children at home rather than send them to school. I hear it from families who decide not to re-certify their Medicaid, not because they are ineligible, but because they fear being targeted for using public benefits. These are not abstract concerns. They are everyday decisions shaped by fear of retaliation, fear learned by watching what happens to people who speak out.

More people in our city are now asking the same question my family was forced to confront on Jan. 6: Who will back you when the pressure does not stop, or when it follows you home after work?

This is where the city should step in and say clearly: We will have your back.

Yes, D.C. operates under real constraints. We lack statehood. We cannot deploy the National Guard without federal approval. Congress can overturn our laws.

But even within those limits, choices still matter. Across D.C., neighbors are walking children to school when families fear being targeted by ICE. Passersby are stopping to question why someone is being profiled or detained. These acts do not eliminate risk. They redistribute it, often making the difference between retreat and resistance.

This is not about asking everyone to be louder or braver on their own. It is about whether we are willing, as a city and a community, to make it safer for people to stand up to a bully. That means building real support around those who take risks, so they are not left isolated afterward. It means treating endurance as a shared responsibility, not an individual test.

Our city may not have all the powers it would have as a state, but we still have choices. Right now, residents and city workers who face threats are left to navigate a maze of agencies, hotlines, and informal advice on their own. That gap is a policy choice, and it does not have to remain one. There should be one clear place to go when harassment or threats occur, a single point of contact that helps document what’s happening, connects people to existing resources, and coordinates a response across agencies. Not a new bureaucracy, but a clear front door. The message it would send matters as much as the help itself. You are not on your own, and the city is paying attention beyond the news cycle.

Jan. 6 did not end at the Capitol. It moved into our neighborhoods, our families, and our daily choices. The work now is not to demand a single expression of courage, but to make it safer for all of us to stand up in our own way, together.


Allister Chang is a member of the D.C. State Board Of Education from Ward 2.

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A dangerous precedent on trans rights in Texas

State compiling list of those who have updated gender on driver’s licenses

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A sign outside Dallas City Hall. (Photo by dallaspaparazzo/Bigstock)

Recent reporting from Texas Standard revealed what should alarm every American who values privacy, civil rights, and constitutional restraint: the state of Texas is compiling a list of transgender residents who have attempted to update the gender marker on their driver’s licenses.

Under a policy quietly implemented after August 2024, the Texas Department of Public Safety stopped accepting court orders or amended birth certificates as valid documentation for gender marker changes. Instead, DPS employees were instructed to forward the names and identifying information of applicants seeking such updates to a dedicated internal email channel labeled “Sex Change Court Order.” Those records, which include sensitive personal information, are now being collected internally by the state.

Texas officials have not offered a clear explanation for why this information is being gathered, how long it will be retained, or what it will ultimately be used for. That lack of transparency is deeply troubling on its own. But in the broader context of Texas’s recent legislative trajectory on transgender rights, the implications are far more serious. This is not merely a bureaucratic shift. It is the creation of a targeted registry of transgender people.

The discriminatory nature of this practice is difficult to ignore. Governments are generally prohibited from singling out individuals based on protected characteristics for special monitoring or record-keeping. Since the Supreme Court’s decision in Bostock v. Clayton County, discrimination against transgender people has been understood as a form of sex discrimination under federal law. Compiling a list of people solely because they sought to align their identification documents with their gender identity runs directly counter to that principle.

Even states with restrictive policies around gender marker changes have historically focused on procedural barriers rather than surveillance. Texas has crossed a new threshold by moving from denial to documentation. The state is no longer just refusing recognition; it is actively cataloging those who seek it.

This practice also represents a profound violation of privacy. Driver’s license records contain some of the most sensitive personal data the government holds. Associating that data with a person’s transgender status without consent or statutory justification creates obvious risks, particularly in a political environment where transgender people are already subject to heightened hostility.

The chilling effect is unavoidable. Trans Texans will now have to weigh whether engaging with basic state services could land them on a government list. That fear will discourage people from updating identification, interacting with public agencies, or asserting their legal rights at all. When a government’s actions deter a specific population from participating in civic life, the harm extends well beyond administrative inconvenience.

What makes this development especially dangerous is how neatly it fits into a broader pattern. Texas lawmakers have spent years advancing legislation that narrows the legal definition of sex, restricts access to gender-affirming care, and limits the recognition of transgender people across public institutions. The creation of this list does not stand apart from those efforts; it complements them.

Once such a database exists, it becomes a tool. Data collected today for “administrative review” can be used tomorrow to justify new exclusions, enhanced scrutiny, or punitive enforcement. History shows that registries built around identity rarely remain benign. They become mechanisms of control.

Other states are watching. Texas has increasingly functioned as a testing ground for anti-trans policy, with lawmakers elsewhere ready to replicate measures that survive legal or political backlash. If compiling a list of transgender residents becomes normalized in Texas, it will not remain isolated. Red states searching for new ways to restrict trans lives will take notice.

The constitutional issues raised by this practice are significant. The Equal Protection Clause forbids states from treating similarly situated individuals differently without sufficient justification. Singling out transgender people for special tracking invites heightened scrutiny. There are also serious Fourth Amendment concerns when the government collects and retains sensitive personal information without a clear, lawful purpose.

At stake is not just the safety of transgender Texans, but the integrity of government itself. If states are permitted to quietly assemble lists of disfavored populations, the precedent does not stop with gender identity. It becomes easier to rationalize similar measures against other groups, under different political conditions.

This moment demands scrutiny and resistance. Texas must be compelled to explain why this data is being collected, how it will be protected, and whether it will be shared across agencies. Civil rights organizations and federal authorities should treat this practice as a serious warning sign, not a minor administrative quirk.

The United States has made meaningful progress toward recognizing the rights and dignity of transgender people, but that progress is fragile. It can be reversed not only through sweeping legislation, but through quiet bureaucratic maneuvers that evade public attention.

A list of transgender citizens is not a neutral administrative artifact. It is a signal. It tells a vulnerable population that their government is watching them differently, recording them differently, and preparing to treat them differently. That should concern everyone, regardless of where they live.

If we allow this to stand, Texas will not be the last state to do it.


Isaac Amend is a writer based in the D.C. area. He is a transgender man and was featured in National Geographic’s ‘Gender Revolution’ documentary. He serves on the board of the LGBT Democrats of Virginia. Contact him on Instagram at @isaacamend

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