Stonewall February 2026

STONEWALL

N E W S N O R T H W E S T

SERVING THE LGBTQIA+ COMMUNITIES OF THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST

FEBRUARY 2026 VOLUME 2 ISSUE 2

Pacific Northwest Artist Chuck Gumpert

Why Creating Art Still Matters in These Dark Times

Remembering Renee Nicole Good

Remembering Alex Jeffrey Pretti

Emerald of Siam A home for Richland’s LGBTQ+ community

400,000 Transgender People have Moved States Call Me Lulu: Choosing my own terms as a parent

Remembering Bret Hanna-Shuford The art of conversation: Reclaiming our voices

INTERVIEWS | Amthony D’Alto & Nina West

FILM REVIEWS | Queens of the Dead & Twinless

About the Artist Chuck Gumpert

The art of conversation: Reclaiming our voices

Remembering Renée Nicole Good

Remembering Alex Jeffrey Prettt

How the Emerald of Siam became a home for Richland’s LGBTQ+

Why Creating Art Still Matters in These Dark Times

Remembering Bret Hanna-Shuford

Over 400,000 Transgender People Have Moved States Since Trump’s Election

The Greenland Lesson for LGBTQ+ people

Call Me LuLu: Choosing my own terms as a parent

Thoughts from the Hobbit House Out on the Ranch

LGBTQ+ Equality Weekly National Headlines Saint Planthony:

“A Quality of Mercy” was created last fall for a solo pop-up exhibition — DUALITY — at “storeFRONT Gallery” in Seattle in October.

It sold to a long-time collector in Southern California who had lost their art collection along with their entire home in the devastating wildfires last winter.

It was to replace one of mine they had purchased nearly 20 years ago.

In spite of the circumstances, it was lovely to interact with a collector and connect with them about how meaningful their art is to them.”

--Chuck Gumpert

Chuck Gumpert

Chaos, Color, and the

Quiet Work of Becoming

PERCY LAIRD

RYAN OELRICH

DAVID CAPOCCI

FRANK GAIMARI

FABRICE HOUDART

JONATHAN SHUFFIELD

APRIL GILBREATH

CHUCK GUMPERT

SAMANTHA REIDEL

REBECCA GOOD

JESSICA HAUER

NOVA BERGER

ERIN REED

TRACY SIMMONS

All contents © 2026, Stratus Group LLC. No portion of this publication may be reproduced without written consent from the publisher. Neither Stratus Group LLC nor Stonewall News Northwest publication assume responsibility for errors in content, photos, or advertisements. The views expressed herein do not necessarily represent the views of the publisher or advertisers.

by Percy Laird

For more than twenty years, Chuck Gumpert has been painting toward something that can’t quite be named—only felt. His large-scale abstractions and impressionistic landscapes hold tension and release in equal measure, moving between darkness and light, chaos and calm, angst and peace. They are paintings that don’t explain themselves so much as invite you to stay.

Art has always been part of Gumpert’s life. One of his drawings appeared on the cover of his preschool yearbook, an early

 | January 2026 | Stonewall News Northwest | www.stonewallnews.net

marker in a childhood shaped by art classes, attentive teachers, and a deep instinct for making. He went on to study fine art at Cypress College in Sourthern California, though it wasn’t until his early thirties that painting became a professional practice. That gap mattered. It gave him time to grow into his voice rather than rush toward it.

Raised in Orange County, California, Gumpert’s sense of possibility widened dramatically when he studied abroad in Cambridge, UK. Seeing a world beyond the familiar made it

impossible to return unchanged. Not long after, he moved to Seattle—a shift that would shape both his work and his life. At the time, he wasn’t out to anyone. Seattle became a place of slow unfolding, where distance from home allowed space for selfunderstanding, and where he began to find people who were affirming, supportive, and safe.

- To Page 24

The art of conversation: Reclaiming our voices

by Jonathan Shuffield

We have all heard it said before: conversation is a lost art form. There is a lot of truth to this cliché, but it doesn’t feel like the whole story. We talk about communication a lot in our world: Communication is key, communication is the star! We pat ourselves on the back for using technology, for mastering social media, and we call it a communication win, but what does that mean? Is it a “win” if all we are doing is talking at the world?

I feel sometimes that the concept of “communication” is muddy and has become almost a bastardization of the real star: conversation. The fact is, there is no communication if we first cannot have a conversation. For millennia, people have been driven to discover ways to connect with each other, to share ideas. At a very base level, it is about feeling less alone, about building that intimate thread. On a higher level, conversation helps us to build upon a shared value, to bring groups together to work for common goals. I don’t believe it is overstating the point to say that every empire, every civilization

Join Jonathan Shuffield for the Community Conversation series in partnership with Lunarium and ARU: A Creative Company. Visit the events calendar at www.lunariumspokane.com or email production@arucreative.com for details.

Future shows: “Community Conversations: Building Your Community Network”: Friday, March 20 at 6:15 p.m. at Lunarium, 1925 N. Monroe St., Spokane, WA. Some upcoming shows without dates are: “Grassroots Strength: Starting in Your Own Backyard” and “Redefining Where and How You Access News.”

only existed through many conversations.

As an entertainer and podcast host, I have become a student of conversation. I love to watch others talk together: the subtle dance, the merging of styles. I’ve learned to listen and to mirror in order to get the very best exchange with another.

Through the years, though, I have noticed a deafening, an isolation of voice, a separation of the dance. I’m sure the deconstruction of our communion began long before I became aware, but for me, the 2016 election and the consequential four years that followed began to open my eyes.

“We talk about communication a lot in our world: Communication is key, communication is the star! We pat ourselves on the back for using technology, for mastering social media, and we call it a communication win, but what does that mean? Is it a “win” if all we are doing is talking at the world? “

During the campaign leading up to the 2024 election, I sat watching a pandemonium of sound that did not seem designed to reach anyone’s ears — just a bunch of people yelling and not one person hearing. I watched my own community lost in fear, no longer connected to the skill that could bring them the hope they so desperately needed.

I had to do something, so I did.

I partnered up with a local business, a late-night tea shop with a reputation for welcoming all people, called Lunarium. We wanted to host community conversations, to curate a space to talk about our fears together.

We would cover topics like censorship, different ways to protest, surviving in our new culture of anxiety, and much more. I would have a mental health professional as a guest, or a political insider and even an entertainer or activist. We would encourage others to interact with us, to share their fears and to ask their questions.

At that very first event in January of 2024, I did not know what to expect. That first crowd was small, but respectable. They looked at me with fearful curiosity, as if we were all skittish woodland creatures poised to hide at the first sign of discomfort. Few chose to speak that day, but all hungered to listen. We did four events that first year, and with each gathering, more would show up and more mic time would be requested. We were remembering how to talk to each other — slowly, for sure, but strengthening in empowerment.

As the current regime keeps upping our capacity for fear and anxiety, I continue to see a need to exercise this much-needed skill of conversation. Lunarium asked us to do more “conversations” this year, and I have happily accepted this challenge. On January 16, we began our new season of community building through

VOICES - To Page 27

What We Know About the ICE Killing of Renée Nicole Good

By Samantha Reidel

An Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent identified as Jonathan Ross shot and killed 37-year-old Renée Nicole Good in Minneapolis on January 7, sparking candlelight vigils and protests across the country.

Good was present at what appeared to be a large gathering of ICE agents on Portland Avenue South on Wednesday, according to multiple videos of the incident obtained by the New York Times. In the videos, multiple ICE agents are shown approaching Good’s van, which briefly blocked ICE vehicles in the street. One of the agents attempted to open the driver’s door, saying “get out of the fucking car”; Good pulled her vehicle away and accelerated forward, and another agent fired three shots through the car window. The car then crashed into another parked vehicle nearby. Good was transported to Hennepin County Medical Center, where she was later pronounced dead, the Minnesota Reformer reported. Per video obtained by the Huffington Post, federal agents kept a nearby doctor from approaching the scene to administer care at the scene.

One video of the incident, viewed by ABC affiliate WLS-TV, showed a crying woman who identified herself as Good’s wife sitting next to the crashed van. “That’s my

wife,” Good’s wife said. “I don’t know what to do.” She reportedly did not return media requests for comment on Wednesday. Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz began a press conference Thursday by “extending sympathies to Renee Good’s wife and child and to the rest of the family, deepest sympathies on an unimaginable tragedy and the horror of the last 24 hours.”

In the immediate aftermath of Good’s killing, Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem claimed that Good had intentionally attempted to “weaponize her vehicle” and injure ICE agents with her car. On his personal social media platform Truth Social, President Trump claimed that Good “viciously ran over” the ICE agent, and that she had been killed in self-defense, baselessly calling Good’s wife, who is heard screaming in some videos, “a professional agitator.” Those claims are contradicted by the video evidence from multiple angles, as the Times noted in its analysis, and Good did not collide with the ICE agents.

“They are already trying to spin this as an action of self-defense. Having seen the video myself, I want to tell everybody directly that is bullshit,” said Minneapolis mayor Jacob Frey in a press conference Wednesday evening. “This was an agent recklessly using power that resulted in somebody dying, getting killed.”

Good was reportedly previously married to Timmy Ray Macklin Jr., with whom she cohosted a podcast and who died in 2023. Per the AP, Good also had two children from another previous marriage, now aged 12 and 15, whose father declined to be publicly identified out of fear for their safety.

“Renee was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known,” Good’s mother Donna Ganger told the Minnesota Star Tribune. “She was extremely compassionate. She’s taken care of people all her life. She was loving, forgiving and affectionate. She was an amazing human being.”

Illinois Rep. Robin Kelly also announced Wednesday that she would file three articles of impeachment against Noem for “obstruction of justice, violation of public trust, and self-dealing” as the result of Good’s killing.

Several city and state officials have described Good as a legal observer who was monitoring ICE activity in the city. During Wednesday’s press conference, Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara said Good was “blocking the street because of the presence of federal law enforcement, which is obviously something that has been happening not just in Minneapolis but around the country.” On X, Minnesota Rep. Ilhan Omar wrote she was “beyond outraged that their [ICE’s] reckless, callous actions led to the killing of a legal observer in Minneapolis.”

According to the Associated Press (AP), Good was born in Colorado and had moved to Minneapolis with her wife and six-year-old child from Kansas City, Missouri last year. Good studied English at Old Dominion University in Virginia, where she graduated in 2020, and won a 2020 Academy of American Poets Prize for her poem “On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs.” An Instagram account believed to be Good’s contained a rainbow flag in its bio, and described her as a “poet and writer and wife and mom and shitty guitar strummer from Colorado; experiencing Minneapolis, MN.”

Hours after Good’s death, thousands of Minneapolis residents gathered for a vigil at the scene of the shooting, calling for the agent who killed her to be prosecuted. As the Minneapolis Reformer noted, Good was killed less than a mile away from the corner where thenMinneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin killed George Floyd in 2020, sparking widespread racial justice protests.

“For them to sit there and lie, and try to paint a false narrative about Renee, is exactly what they have done for police abuse victims year after year after year,” lawyer and civil rights activist Nekima Levy Armstrong said at the vigil, per the Reformer.

Other protests and vigils mourning Good and denouncing ICE were held across the U.S. from California to New York on Wednesday evening. A GoFundMe benefiting Good’s wife and child with a goal of raising $50,000 had raised over $1.5 million before closing and requesting further donations be made to others in need.

Good is at least the fourth person to be shot and killed by ICE agents in less than sixth months, according to reports compiled by journalistic nonprofit The Marshall Project. After agents killed Silverio Villegas González in Chicago last September, Trump administration officials similarly claimed that he had “dragged” and injured an agent with his car, though video from the scene showed that the agent attested his injuries were “nothing major.” Those killings are the result of the agency’s ongoing “Midway Blitz” operation, as officials deployed an estimated 2,000 agents to Minneapolis in the past few days, primarily targeting the area’s Somali residents.

Renee Good’s widow, Rebecca Good, issues her first statement since the murder of her wife

by Rebecca Good

First, I want to extend my gratitude to all the people who have reached out from across the country and around the world to support our family.

This kindness of strangers is the most fitting tribute because if you ever encountered my wife, Renee Nicole Macklin Good, you know that above all else, she was kind. In fact, kindness radiated out of her.

Renee sparkled. She literally sparkled. I mean, she didn’t wear glitter but I swear she had sparkles coming out of her pores. All the time. You might think it was just my love talking but her family said the same thing. Renee was made of sunshine.

Renee lived by an overarching belief: there is kindness in the world and we need to do everything we can to find it where it resides and nurture it where it needs to grow. Renee was a Christian who knew that all religions teach the same essential truth: we are here to love each other, care for each other, and keep each other safe and whole.

Like people have done across place and time, we moved to make a better life for ourselves. We chose Minnesota to make our home. Our whole extended road trip here, we held hands in the car while our son drew all over the windows to pass the time and the miles.

What we found when we got here was a vibrant and

welcoming community, we made friends and spread joy. And while any place we were together was home, there was a strong shared sense here in Minneapolis that we were looking out for each other. Here, I had finally found peace and safe harbor. That has been taken from me forever.

We were raising our son to believe that no matter where you come from or what you look like, all of us deserve compassion and kindness. Renee lived this belief every day. She is pure love. She is pure joy. She is pure sunshine.

On Wednesday, January 7th, we stopped to support our neighbors. We had whistles. They had guns.

Renee leaves behind three extraordinary children; the youngest is just six years old and already lost his father. I am now left to raise our son and to continue teaching him, as Renee believed, that there are people building a better world for him. That the people who did this had fear and anger in their hearts, and we need to show them a better way.

We thank you for the privacy you are granting our family as we grieve. We thank you for ensuring that Renee’s legacy is one of kindness and love. We honor her memory by living her values: rejecting hate and choosing compassion, turning away from fear and pursuing peace, refusing division and knowing we must come together to build a world where we all come home safe to the people we love.

Alex Jeffrey Pretti: Another ICE Victim Killed in Minneapolis

by

The streets of South Minneapolis became the scene of tragedy on Saturday, January 24, when Alex Jeffery Pretti, a 37-year-old ICU nurse, was fatally shot by federal immigration agents. The incident has sent shockwaves through a community already reeling from heightened federal law enforcement activity, sparking outrage and demands for answers.

Pretti, by all accounts, was an upstanding member of his community. A homeowner and University of Minnesota graduate, he dedicated his career to helping others, serving as an intensive care nurse for the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs. He was a legal gun owner with a permit to carry and had no serious criminal record. A neighbor described him as “not a violent person.”

This morning, Pretti found himself in the middle of a tense confrontation involving U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents on Nicollet Avenue. Eyewitness accounts and video footage show Pretti attempting to de-escalate the situation and help people navigate the chaotic scene. During the encounter, agents wrestled Pretti to the ground. Within seconds, multiple gunshots were fired, and

the man who spent his life saving others lay dying on the sidewalk. He was later pronounced dead at a local hospital.

Pretti’s death is the latest — and most alarming — in a series of violent encounters involving federal agents in Minneapolis. It comes just seventeen days after the killing of Renee Good by an ICE agent, an event that had already triggered mass protests across the city. These incidents are part of “Operation Metro Surge,” a federal immigration crackdown that has brought thousands of agents into the state and created an atmosphere of fear and distrust.

The response from local and state officials has been swift and furious. Minnesota Governor Tim Walz condemned the shooting as “sickening” and demanded an end to the federal operation. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey echoed these sentiments, questioning how many more tragedies must occur before the federal government recognizes the harm its tactics are causing.

As the community mourns the loss of a man described as a hero — both in his career and in his final moments — a larger storm gathers. Protesters have assembled, the National Guard has been activated, and the chasm between local authorities and federal agencies widens. The tragic death of Alex J. Pretti has become more than an isolated incident; it is now a flashpoint in a growing national crisis over the role and accountability of federal immigration enforcement.

Remembering Alex Pretti by Jessica Hauer, his final nursing student

by Jessica Hauer

Iwas Alex Pretti’s final nursing student. He was my friend and my nursing mentor. For the past four months, I stood shoulder to shoulder with him during my capstone preceptorship at the Minneapolis VA Hospital. There he trained me to care for the sickest of the sick as an ICU nurse. He taught me how to care for arterial and central lines, the intricacies of managing multiple IVs filled with lifesaving solutions, and how to watch over every heartbeat, every breath, and every flicker of life, ready to act the moment they wavered. Techniques intended to heal.

Alex carried patience, compassion and calm as a steady light within him. Even at the very end, that light was there. I recognized his familiar stillness and signature calm composure shining through during those unbearable final moments captured on camera.

It does not surprise me that his final words were, “Are you okay?” Caring for people was at the core of who he was. He was incapable of causing harm. He lived a life of healing, and he lived it well.

Alex believed strongly in the Second Amendment and in the

rights rooted in our Constitution and its amendments. He spoke out for justice and peace whenever he could, not only out of obligation, but out of a belief that we are more connected than divided, and that communication would bring us together.

I want his family to know his legacy lives on. I am a better nurse because of the wisdom and skills he instilled in me. I carry his light with me into every room, letting it guide and steady my hands as I heal and care for those in need.

Please honor my friend by standing up for peace, preferably with a cup of black coffee in hand and a couple of pieces of candy in your pocket, just as he would. He would remind you that caring for others is hard work, and we must do whatever it takes to get through the long shifts. Step outside with your dog, breathe in the world, hike or bike as he loved to do, and let yourself find peace in the quiet moments within nature. Stand up for justice and speak with those whose views differ from your own. Hold your beliefs with strength, but always extend love outward, even in the face of adversity.

Take one step, no matter how small, to help heal our world. Through these acts, carry his light forward in his name. Let his legacy continue to heal.

More than a meal: How the Emerald of Siam became a home for Richland’s

LGBTQ+ community

by Nova Berger

An all-ages drag show and yummy khao tom?

The Emerald of Siam isn’t your typical Gay dive bar, but it’s still a shining spot of safety for anyone under the rainbow. This Richland institution blends cuisine and culture, drag and dance — all mixed with some mouthwatering pad Thai.

It’s not just an authentic Thai spot though — it proves how unexpected spaces can become community and safety hubs, and that you can’t judge a book by its cover.

“The Emerald of Siam Thai Restaurant and Lounge has been a safe place for everyone for as long as I can remember. It has a magic about it that feels like you’re in a different world,” said one Facebook user.

“I would say that has been my social embrace, and being at Emerald has only helped that feeling,” said another patron.

“The Emerald of Siam has always been the most inviting bar

When Queer visibility is woven into everyday community life, when a restaurant becomes a sanctuary, and when joy is shared across generations, something powerful happens: people feel seen. In this way, the Emerald of Siam sets an example for other rural towns and places without typical LGBTQ+ bars and clubs.

and restaurant for the LGBT+ community that I’ve experienced in Richland,” said patron L.C.

“The first time I was ever asked what my pronouns were was there. Although I’m a she/her, it really highlighted how welcoming the atmosphere the Emerald provides is. Thank you for all that you do!”

A Little Background

Richland and the broader TriCities area have historically been based on the Hanford Nuclear Reservation, federal work, and Cold War–era norms. The city prized professional ability and “don’t stand out” behavior. The region has also historically remained red. Republican

presidential candidates have consistently outpolled Democratic candidates in recent elections: Donald Trump, for example, won the county with a clear majority in both 2020 and 2024.

As a result, Richland lacked many gathering places, nightclubs, or dance bars for LGBTQ+ people, who weren’t as openly welcomed as in nearby safer places, like Portland and Seattle. The attitude toward LGBTQ+ people from Richland locals has also been noted as cold.

“Actually, this last week I was doing some work with PFLAG and walked into a café just down from Emerald,” said one

“But it so happens that we have had to stand up as an ally, because we were targeted

by bigots. And

I

am happy to wave the flag as a safe space for the LGBTQ+ community.”

--Owner Dara Quinn

customer. “The owner was friendly and welcoming… but after I introduced myself and said who I was there on behalf of, the mood changed, and he became cold and standoffish. The tone the owner took towards me felt threatening.”

“When I was younger (elementary and jr. high ages), I experienced constant bullying and harassment. It made it very hard to be successful in school and socially. Constantly being physically attacked along with the blatant verbal harassment that ran rampant throughout my school years. This definitely hurt my spirit and caused deep depression in my life (which I currently deal with 30+ years later).” said another customer.

In contrast, the Emerald of Siam is a shining example of the persistency of Queer culture, of how, when people lack a typical venue to gather, they will find a third place. In making those spaces friendly, people can bring others out of the woodwork and discover their own identity and safety in unexpected ways.

“I came out when I was 17 in Portland Oregon, so when I moved back I had already been out for almost 20 years and definitely felt a lot more confident and secure around town! But the 2 Places I would name are Out and About and Emerald of Siam! Both places are LGBTQIA Safe

EMERALD - To Page 25

by April Gilbreath

With war at our heels, a nation divided, hate and bigotry trending upwards; While genocide, the dismissal and removal of basic human rights, deportation, amongst many other atrocities, continue to take over our television screens, daily thoughts, and our world at large, I often have wondered if creating art is unnecessary or insensitive. If leaning into creature comforts is unfair, because so many are going without.

I often ask myself if we should still be focusing on art. There are times when creating art or consuming it feels pointless. When the news is so heavy and inescapable, when people are struggling, when basic safety and dignity feel uncertain, it’s hard not to ask ourselves: Does making something really matter right now? Are we selfish or detached because we are choosing to create art when so many of our friends, neighbors, and humankind are struggling?

It is something I see every time I get online. Many people feel guilt around creativity as if we should only create art and express

Why Creating Art Still Matters in These Dark Times

Even now, when LGBTQ+ visibility is far greater than it once was, many people within the community still find that creative spaces are where they feel safest being fully themselves. Open mics, art shows, photography projects, drag performances, film sets, writing groups, and community workshops more often than not, become chosen family environments. These are places where expression isn’t constantly questioned, explained, or corrected but revered and celebrated.

ourselves after everything else is handled first. Like art is something extra, something indulgent, something we can only return to once the world calms down and is less catastrophic. But history, psychology, and lived experience all point to the same truth: people need art during hard times, and they often make more of it.

Not because they are ignoring what’s happening, but in spite of it and other times because of it. In reality, art has become one of the ways people survive hardships. Public morale and comfort are not something to be taken lightly, and it is important for the survival of our species to have hope and see light even in times when there doesn’t seem to be any.

People have always used art to respond to a crisis

You can see this clearly in the art that emerged from the Vietnam War era. The late 1960s and 1970s were clearly defined by images of violence on television, political distrust, generational conflict, and mass grief. The artists didn’t retreat into silence; instead, they used their creativity and responded directly and loudly.

Artists created work that forced viewers to address uncomfortable realities. War protesters carried posters that used real photographs and strong language to contradict the overly sanitized way that war was being discussed with the general public. Photomontage

artist, Martha Rosler, created art that placed images of war into scenes of ordinary American life, making it impossible to pretend that what was happening overseas wasn’t connected to the comforts we had at home.

Musicians were doing the same thing, but in a different form. Albums such as: What’s Going On by Marvin Gaye weren’t just commercially successful; they held cultural meaning because they appealed to the confusion, grief, and moral questioning that people were experiencing. Songs like Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s “Ohio” (written after the Kent State shootings) gave people

ART - To Page 22

The Final Bow: Celebrating the Radiant Life and Legacy of Bret Hanna-Shuford

by Frank Gaimari www.FranksFilmReview.com

The lights of Broadway shine a little differently now. The theater community — a world built on storytelling, vulnerability, and the magic of connection — has lost one of its most vibrant storytellers. Bret Hanna-Shuford, a talent whose warmth radiated far beyond the footlights, has taken his final bow at the age of 46. While his departure leaves a profound silence where his laughter once rang, his life remains a resounding anthem of authenticity, love, and artistic resilience.

To know Bret’s work was to

witness a masterclass in joy. From the emerald ambition of Wicked to the whimsical enchantment of The Little Mermaid and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Bret did not just perform roles; he inhabited them with a generous spirit. He was the kind of performer who understood that theater is an exchange of energy. Whether onstage at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre or in front of a camera for The Wolf of Wall Street, he gave everything he had to the audience.

Bret’s most significant role, however, was not found in a Playbill. It was the life he built offstage with his husband, Stephen Hanna-Shuford. Together,

In a world that often complicates LGBTQ+ existence, Bret and Stephen offered a window into the beautiful simplicity of queer joy. They showed that a fairytale romance is not just for Disney princes on stage — it is something real, tangible, and hard-won.

open arms, pouring his heart into every moment. As a proud dad, he radiated joy and became a passionate advocate for LGBTQ+ families, demonstrating that family is built on love and commitment.

However, his joyful and fulfilling world was turned upside down when he was diagnosed with two rare and aggressive cancers: hemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis (HLH) and peripheral T-cell lymphoma. Faced with challenges that would overwhelm most, Bret approached his battle with the same grace, strength, and determination that defined his life. True to his nature, he did not hide his struggle. Instead, he shared it openly, transforming his vulnerability into a beacon of hope and resilience.

Even during hospital stays and treatments that disrupted his graduate studies in Florida, Bret’s creativity never wavered. His upcoming children’s book, Good Night, Break a Leg, serves as a poignant reminder of the lasting impact artists have. Through their work, they leave behind pieces of their soul, ensuring their voice and spirit continue to inspire long after they are gone.

as the “Broadway Husbands,” they did something revolutionary simply by being themselves. In a world that often complicates LGBTQ+ existence, Bret and Stephen offered a window into the beautiful simplicity of queer joy. They showed that a fairytale romance is not just for Disney princes on stage — it is something real, tangible, and hard-won.

Their love story evolved into a new chapter with the arrival of their son, Maverick, in 2022. Bret embraced fatherhood with

In conclusion, the incredible legacy of Bret Hanna-Shuford is honored — a true Broadway star who gave his heart and soul to every performance, onstage and off. His light, creativity, and courage touched countless lives, leaving a legacy that continues to inspire. This is his standing ovation — a celebration of a life lived with passion, grace, and purpose.

To learn more about Broadway Husbands, visit the official website at www.BroadwayHusbands.com.

Over 400,000 Transgender People Have Moved States Since Trump’s Election

The large migration builds on earlier movements of transgender people in response to anti-transgender legislation.

by Erin Reed

Across the United States, transgender people have been battered by a relentless wave of anti-trans legislation from Republicanled states. Under the Trump presidency, that pressure has only intensified, leaving transgender people increasingly dependent on

whether their state government is willing to protect them or abandon them. While many states have weakened protections or embraced outright hostility, a smaller number have taken the opposite approach—suing the federal government, refusing to cooperate with discriminatory directives, and affirming trans people’s right to live freely.

the US.

Surveyors at the Movement Advancement Project polled more than 1,000 LGBTQ+ households, asking respondents about their perceptions and actions since the 2024 election. When asked whether they had moved to a different state, 9% of transgender respondents said that they had. That figure translates into a striking level of displacement. According to Gallup, transgender people make up roughly 1.3% of the U.S. population—about 4.5 million people nationwide. If 9% of that population has moved states, it amounts to approximately 401,000 transgender people relocating in the wake of the election, an extraordinary migration driven by political conditions rather than personal preference.

Transgender people are noticing. According to a new poll from the Movement Advancement Project and NORC, an estimated 400,000 transgender people have already fled their home states for safer ones since the 2024 election, relocating specifically in response to anti-trans laws and policies, making it among the largest relocations in modern history in

The likely reasons for this movement appear later in the survey. Transgender people report experiencing startling levels of discrimination in the aftermath of the 2024 election. More than half—56%—said they have faced discrimination because of their gender identity, while 47% reported being harassed in person. In many cases, that hostility is coming directly from the state itself: 24% of transgender respondents said they were discriminated against or mistreated by their local or state government. Faced with conditions like these, which can make even day-to-day life a

MIGRATION - To Page 25

The Greenland Lesson for LGBTQ+ people

For Europeans and LGBTQ+ people, the playbook is the same: building power in the long term—and making a few well‑chosen noses bleed in the short term.

by Fabrice Houdart

Iunderstand my own geopolitical limits and don’t pretend to know how Europeans should respond to U.S. threats to seize Greenland or retaliate against anyone who opposes them. However, as I mentioned in March, it’s clear that for Europeans and LGBTQ+ people alike, hug-and-kiss diplomacy is over.

In practice, that means responding to the U.S. administration’s provocations with dialogue, human-rights rhetoric, and reasoning may now be counterproductive. It looks weak. At some point, Europeans will have to draw a line and show how bullying allies and breaking international agreements carry a cost—and that the cost is unpredictable. On the surface, they have few options; like

LGBTQ+ communities, they are very behind in raw power and took too long to wake up. But they still have leverage, and they can still inflict harm.

Maybe it is time for them to call the bluff. America has a great deal to lose, not least its reputation and credibility on the world stage.

Stephen Miller and Pete Hegseth, with all their bravado, obviously underestimate both the short- and long-term geopolitical price of ridicule. Force the United States to contemplate sending troops into an ally’s territory, and let the consequences play out in international opinion, institutions, and markets.

In the United States, LGBTQ+ communities have already endured a cascade of humiliations and live under constant threat of more. In 2025 our symbols and heroes were systematically erased or defaced: the USNS Harvey Milk was quietly renamed after a straight war hero, Admiral Rachel

Levine’s title and image were scrubbed from official materials, Pride flags were banned from public buildings, World AIDS Day events were defunded or stripped of queer content, the Orlando memorial and other sites of mourning were targeted, the U.S. lead a campaign against LGBTQ+ language at the UN, and rainbow crosswalks were literally ripped up or painted over. We cannot simply register our distress; we must articulate a response.

In practice, that means being intentional and focused. We should select a few unmistakable examples: a company that visibly broke faith with us, a vulnerable political figure whose actions demand consequences, and an institution that depends on constituencies that still need us. The tools matter less than the concentration of force—boycotts, shaming, targeted campaigning all qualify—so long as crossing certain lines produces visible, memorable costs.

A friend suggested we create what he called a “c***t committee.” I liked the discipline it implies: a deliberate, collective decision to carefully select a few targets and follow through. We need a win badly in 2026.

These thoughts are part of a broader reflection on the character of our movement I’d like to explore in the coming months. My friends know that anger and sarcasm carried me for a long time, but eventually delivered diminishing returns. I am incrementally changing these aspects of my character that stand in the way of my goals. The movement is in a similar place: the tactics that served us best are losing effectiveness because the terrain has shifted. The Greenland moment clarifies that we must have a two-pronged approach: building long-term power and, in the short term, punching a few people in the nose.

Call Me LuLu: Choosing my own terms as a parent

“This is about choosing my own terms as a parent — literally. In queer families, we do this all the time. We create the structures that fit us rather than cramming ourselves into structures designed for someone else’s family. Some kids have two moms or two dads. Some kids have a Mama and a Mommy, a Mum and a Ma, or invent entirely new names that belong only to their family. We build our own language because the default language wasn’t built for us.”

by Tracy Simmons

For nine months, while my wife Traci and I waited for our son, I kept circling back to one question: What will he call me?

Not “Mom.” That word has never fit right, like a jacket that’s technically my size but restricts when I try to move. Maybe it’s too steeped in femininity for someone like me. Maybe it’s tainted by my own history — I was an oopsie baby, raised by a single mother who resented the role and eventually walked away from it entirely. The word carries weight I don’t want to pass down.

So I’m going with LuLu.

It’s a nickname from childhood — family lore says a babysitter gave it to me, though I have no memory of her. What I do remember is how my family ran with it: LuLu, Tracy Lu, the occasional LuLu Bell. It was reserved for people who knew me best, who loved me most. Bringing back my childhood nickname to raise a child feels appropriate, even poetic. I’m reclaiming something tender from my past to build something new.

There’s practical logic too: Traci

and I share the same first name. She’s Mom. I’m LuLu. Stanley will know who’s who, but my hope is that this nickname will help his teachers, his friends’ parents, and anyone else navigating our household keep us straight. But practicality isn’t really the point.

This is about choosing my own terms as a parent — literally. In queer families, we do this all the time. We create the structures that fit us rather than cramming ourselves into structures designed for someone else’s family. Some kids have two moms or two dads. Some kids have a Mama and a Mommy, a Mum and a Ma, or invent entirely new names that belong only to their family. We build our own language because the default language wasn’t built for us.

It’s a small act of resistance, maybe, but also an act of selfpreservation. I want to show up for Stanley as my whole self, not as a role I’m performing. LuLu lets me do that.

My straight friends tend to look surprised when I explain the choice. My LGBTQ friends just nod. They get it. They

understand that rejecting “Mom” isn’t rejecting motherhood — it’s claiming something more authentic, more mine.

The harder part will be training the rest of the world. I’ve already been called “Mamma” by wellmeaning friends. Society sees two women raising a child and assumes it knows what we are, what we should be called. There’s an expectation baked into every interaction, every form, every casual question at the pediatrician’s office.

Here’s what I hope Stanley will understand someday: I chose him. I’m adopting him with intention and joy. And just as I chose him, I’m choosing this name, this identity, this version of parenthood that makes room for all of who I am.

Maybe LuLu will bring out my childish side again — in a good and playful way. The way that remembers what wonder feels like, what it means to be fully yourself without apology. Stanley

is already teaching me that. At just over a week old, he’s a reminder that we get to define our own roles, write our own scripts, call ourselves whatever helps us show up as our best, most loving selves.

So yes, call me LuLu. It’s a name rooted in love, chosen with purpose, and offered freely to the child who’s teaching me what kind of parent I want to be — on my own terms.

Things My Husband Says

by Ryan Oelrich

“Since you’re now in public office, I should probably tell you all the weird things you do—and all the ways you’re wrong.”

My husband, Robert, offered this loving threat shortly after I began my term as a Spokane City Council Member.

and an almost alarming level of communication skill—especially when it comes to poking fun at me. Over time, I started collecting his best lines under the hashtag #thingsmyhusbandsays online.

“Lately, I’ve become increasingly aware of how often the world tries to rob us of our joy and energy. And it’s made me more determined than ever to steal it back—intentionally, stubbornly, and sometimes with snacks.” HOBBIT HOUSE - To Page 30

Robert has always had quick wit

Out on the Ranch Thoughts from the Hobbit House

My husband does not follow me on social media (which, honestly, may be one of the great secrets to our relationship’s success). So while our friends get to laugh— usually at my expense—my

remarkable husband remains blissfully unaware, free to be 100% himself.

That is… until a colleague or complete stranger approaches him in public and says, “We LOVE your quotes.”

At which point I receive a quick glare, and I am immediately in at least two troubles.

Thankfully, he always forgives me. Eventually. Usually. With conditions that often involve the procurement of his favorite snacks.

As the world has grown heavier— and as Rob and I have faced our own harder seasons—I’ve found his ability to keep laughing, keep noticing joy, and keep

The Long View, the Quiet Work

“For those fighting this administration, for those exhausted by the chaos conservatives have sown nationally, here is the lesson the land keeps teaching us: stay. Stay visible. Stay rooted. Stay boringly, stubbornly present.”

by David Capocci

January has a way of stripping things down to essentials. Our mornings are frosty, our breath steaming the air. The daily work does not care who won an election, only that it be done. Out here at the ranch, the seasons keep their own rhythm, and that perspective matters when the nation feels like it’s lurching from headline to headline, crisis to crisis.

We literally picked ourselves up out of our comfortable blue bubble of Capitol Hill,

Seattle, and moved into a rural, economically depressed, redbubble mountain community. We did it right after the Bush/ Gore hanging chads mess, when Democrats were talking about leaving safe ground, going where we weren’t wanted, and doing the slow work of change anyway. We believed that call then, and we believe it now. We wanted to make progressive change manifest in the world through hospitality, literally opening our home to the public daily, since buying a blank

RANCH - To Page 31

LGBTQ+ Equality

Weekly National Headlines

by Fabrice Houdart

US News

Heritage’s Vision of Family Puts Ours at Risk

Please have a look at this 167page document released this month, the Heritage Foundation’s Saving America by Saving the Family, which outlines a 250 years (!) vision for U.S. family policy that we do not support. Framing “marriage between one man and one woman” as the only acceptable family structure, the report claims that all other configurations are inferior and harmful to children. It proposes federal incentives—like tax credits and investment accounts—that would apply exclusively to heterosexual marriages, while ignoring or even penalizing other families. Heritage portrays LGBTQ+ equality, including marriage rights and gender inclusion, as part of a cultural “decline” that must be reversed. This is concerning: these ideas, while extreme, influence realworld policy and are already shaping political platforms in an election year. I wrote previously on how I see a global ban on surrogacy looming.

Global Gag Rule to Target LGBTQ+ Organizations

The administration announced it will condition all U.S. foreign aid—including humanitarian and development assistance—on recipients’ silence regarding LGBTQ+ people and abortion services. From February 2026, organizations receiving U.S. funding will be prohibited from addressing gender identity, supporting legal gender recognition, or carrying out diversity, equity, and inclusion work. These restrictions constitute another financial blow to our struggle for queer liberation. See on ILGA World.

DOJ Backs Off Grab for Trans Youth Medical Records

The DOJ has dropped its push to access personal records of over 3,000 trans youth at a Los Angeles hospital after families fought back in court. The subpoenas—seeking

january 28, 2026

names, Social Security numbers, and addresses—were slammed as a baseless “fishing expedition“ by judges and advocates alike. A similar attempt targeting a D.C. hospital was also blocked. See in Pink News.

Anti-LGBTQ+ “Insurrectionist“ Nominated for Wyoming US Attorney

The nominee for interim U.S. attorney in Wyoming, Darin D. Smith, faces criticism over his anti-LGBTQ+ record and limited courtroom experience. As a state legislator, Smith supported bills targeting drag and trans students, aligned with the Family Research Council, and argued that the Supreme Court wrongly decided Bostock v. Clayton County. He also acknowledged never having tried a case and being present at the Capitol on January 6. Senate Democrats labeled him “an unqualified insurrectionist” whose bigotry hampers his ability to serve and uphold the law. Read more in The Advocate.

Fox News’ Outrage Over Queer Theology at Duke

This Fox News article about a Duke Divinity School course exploring queer theology highlights how manufactured outrage is used to fuel cultural division. The course, “From the Baptismal Font to Queer Theology,” provides a look at how LGBTQ+ identities intersect with Christian thought — definitely not the subversive indoctrination Fox claims it is. I’d love to take that class! I’ve always believed that among the many challenges LGBTQ+ people face, our systematic exclusion from spirituality and places of faith is one of the worst.

Queering the Boardroom

Michael C. Camuñez kicks off the Association’s 2026 programming

Michael C. Camuñez— Board Chair of the Association of LGBTQ+ Corporate Directors and a director at Edison International, Capital Group, and the Packard Foundation—shares insights on his Board journey and his vision for the Association yesterday. As the first openly gay partner at a top national law firm and a former Assistant Secretary of Commerce, Camuñez argues that diversity is essential to breaking groupthink and elevating governance. The conversation covers board recruitment, authenticity in leadership, and the “courage recession” in Corporate America.

More on Diversity’s Disappearance from Corporate Disclosures

36% of the top 100 U.S. companies mentioned “diversity” in their 2025 human capital disclosures—down from 96% just a year prior. Research by A&O Shearman reveals that DE&I language is vanishing across annual reports, proxy statements, and even executive compensation metrics, as firms grow wary of litigation, shifting political winds, and investor pushback.

The Gay Business

Erratum regarding Davos

My newsletter last week was full of mistakes. It will teach me to write it on the go. There was actually a lighting of the Promenade at Davos (see in the Blade)—it was just much more subdued than in previous years. Here are some of the major

companies that decided NOT to be a part of it this year: Google, Meta, Microsoft, IBM, Deloitte, EY, Citi, HP, and Accenture. Their absence marked a noticeable shift from the same event in 2024. Interestingly, the outlets and organizations that reported on the annual Promenade lighting decided not to mention the sudden drop - a self-censorship of some sort.

Tim Cook in the spotlight

Apple CEO Tim Cook attended a private White House screening of “Melania,” a documentary directed by Brett Ratner, among 70 VIP guests, which apparently sparked an internal controversy (see The Intercept). Earlier today, he said it was time for de-escalation in Minneapolis and mentioned discussing it with the President.

The Gay Glass Ceiling: Why Being “Out” Still Costs LGBTQ+ Men

A compelling new article by Pat Brothwell in Fast Company explores the challenges faced by gay men in the workplace. Success still depends on projecting a version of masculinity acceptable to corporate culture—“professional,” composed, and never “too gay.” However, this limited view of leadership causes many LGBTQ+ men to navigate coded expectations, often at the cost of promotions and authenticity. The article points out that nearly half of LGBTQ+ employees are still closeted from their supervisors.

“For gay men, workplace success has always been contingent on performing the “right” kind of gayness. The palatable kind; one that blends easily into existing leadership culture: Clean-cut, composed, confident without being expressive, and careful never to appear ‘too gay” in how one speaks, dresses, or leads. In short, masculine.”

Minnesota CEOs And The Question Of What Is Political?

Over 60 CEOs from Minnesota’s largest employers—including Target, 3M, Cargill, and General Mills—issued a letter on January 25th calling for “immediate de-escalation” after two fatal shootings by federal immigration agents in Minneapolis. The NATIONAL - To Page 28

Saint Planthony: The Plant Guru Guy

by Frank Gaimari

Nestled in the heart of Seattle, Anthony D’Alto is nurturing a lively haven where humor and horticulture come together seamlessly. Known online as “Saint Planthony,” D’Alto has transformed a modest Capitol Hill plant shop into a viral sanctuary, drawing thousands with his infectious blend of wit, wisdom, and greenery. With a smartphone in one hand and a pothos in the other, he’s become a digital evangelist, showing how laughter and a bit of greenery can be transformative.

Beneath his flamboyant exterior is a deeply passionate nature enthusiast with an insatiable curiosity. At 31, D’Alto’s journey to plant stardom is anything but conventional. His move from Florida to Seattle in 2023 marked a turning point, igniting his passion for plants and his advocacy for mental health.

D’Alto’s expertise comes not from formal education but from years of hands-on experimentation. His intuitive grasp of plant biology allows him to translate complex care instructions into practical advice accessible to novices and seasoned gardeners. Rather than

positioning himself as a distant authority, he’s a trusted friend — ready to explain why a fiddleleaf fig might drop its leaves or how a little humor can help both plants and people thrive.

Saint Planthony’s widespread appeal began on TikTok and Instagram, where he captivated millions by combining practical plant care with sharp humor and pop culture references. His feeds are a kaleidoscope of content: one moment, he’s breaking down the finicky watering schedule of a Calathea; the next, he’s delivering a tongue-in-cheek monologue on global affairs while elbow-deep in potting soil. A particularly memorable video — a blend of politics, plants, and psychology — amassed over a million views, cementing his place as a formidable digital presence.

At the heart of the Saint Planthony phenomenon is The Plant Store on Capitol Hill, affectionately dubbed the “Gay Plant Store” by locals and internet fans. The nickname, sparked by a cheeky sign out front, has become a symbol of inclusivity and community. Stepping into the shop feels less like entering a retail space and more like joining a lively community

“They’re not just a hobby; they’re a source of grounding and perspective. When I look at the little world I’ve nurtured, I’m reminded that even during chaos, there’s room for growth, beauty, and calm. Plants don’t just decorate my space; they anchor me.”

hub, where the air is thick with humidity and hospitality. D’Alto’s videos often feature this unique environment — a place where plant education is seamlessly blended with what he wryly calls “thrilling thornication.” His ability to improvise content amid daily shop life adds an unmistakable authenticity, turning the store into a pilgrimage site for fans seeking not just Monstera but belonging.

Queens of the Dead: A Queer Cult Classic

Whether you’re here for the camp, the scares, or the standout performances, this movie offers something for everyone. So grab your popcorn, settle in, and let this unforgettable party unfold. Now streaming on numerous platforms.

by Frank Gaimari www.FranksFilmReview.com

Step aside, Rocky Horror — a new cult classic has arrived, bringing more glitter than a Pride parade and more gore than a haunted house at Halloween. Queens of the Dead is poised to snatch the crown as the new must-see movie. Audiences can expect sequins, sass, and survival — because this Queer zom-com doesn’t just serve, it slays.

Set in Brooklyn, the story kicks off on the night of a massive warehouse drag show. What starts as a typical evening of shade-throwing and lip-syncing quickly devolves into chaos when a zombie apocalypse breaks out. The queens, club kids, and their frenemies must set aside their drama to fight off the brainthirsty undead. And they’re not your typical zombies. Imagine influencer zombies: live-streaming their rampages and snapping selfies mid-bite.

Nina West dazzles as Ginsey Tonic, the drag matriarch who blends nurturing Mother Hen qualities with the resilient spirit of

a Final Girl. Katy O’Brian delivers fiery performances as Dre, while Margaret Cho brings her signature humor as Pops. The charming Cheyenne Jackson makes a memorable appearance, and Riki Lindhome shines in her role. A standing ovation goes to Jaquel Spivey. Kudos as well to Tomás Matos, Quincy Dunn-Baker, Jack Haven, Dominique Jackson, Samora La Perdida, Shaunette Renee Wilson, and Eve Lindley, who round out the cast and elevate the drama to new heights.

Under Tina Romero’s direction, Queens of the Dead isn’t just a movie — it’s a wild, unapologetic celebration that gleefully explodes horror, queerness, and influencer culture all at once. Sure, the plot has its messy moments, but honestly, that’s half the fun. This film is a party from start to finish.

Whether you’re here for the camp, the scares, or the standout performances, this movie offers something for everyone. So grab your popcorn, settle in, and let this unforgettable party unfold. Now streaming on numerous platforms.

Nina West: A Queen of Heart, Humor, and Humanity

by Frank Gaimari www.FranksFilmReview.com

This past month, I had the incredible privilege of seeing Nina West and a dazzling lineup of drag queens perform live at A Drag Queen Christmas in Seattle. The show was a breathtaking spectacle — glittering, glamorous, and overflowing with pure joy. Each queen took the stage with unforgettable performances, but for me, Nina was the undeniable highlight of the evening.

As the host, she radiated warmth, humor, and boundless positivity, lighting up the stage with every word and gesture. By the end of the night, I wasn’t just entertained, I was truly inspired. Her remarkable ability to connect with audiences, make us laugh, and send us home feeling uplifted was nothing short of magical. It was an evening I’ll never forget.

Seeing her live made me curious about the journey that brought her to this moment.

Born on August 10, 1978, in Detroit, Michigan, and raised in

small-town Greentown (North Canton), Ohio, Andrew Levitt discovered an early passion for theater and storytelling. That love for the arts eventually brought him to Columbus, Ohio, where the iconic drag persona Nina West was born. She has since inspired millions and become one of the world’s most beloved drag queens — a testament to her resilience, creativity, and heart.

I first discovered Nina during season 11 of RuPaul’s Drag Race, on which she quickly became one of my favorite queens. Her performances were a master class in camp and creativity, blending humor with heartfelt messages that resonated deeply with me and so many others. She didn’t just compete; she created a legacy, earning the title of Miss Congeniality and solidifying her place as a queen who leads with kindness.

Her impact extends far beyond the runway, as she is a multitalented artist who has made her mark in music, theater, and television. Her groundbreaking children’s album, Drag Is Magic, celebrates

“So many things have fueled my passion for activism, but at its core, it all comes back to one simple yet powerful idea: I never want anyone in our community to feel isolated, alone, or like they don’t matter. That thought has always been the driving force behind everything I do.”

--Nina West

individuality and self-expression with songs that inspire kids to embrace their authentic selves.

Beyond her music, she has showcased her talents on stage, most notably as Edna Turnblad in the national tour of Hairspray The role was a perfect match for her vibrant personality, and her performance breathed new life into the iconic character, earning glowing reviews and solidifying her reputation as a dynamic performer. Additionally, she starred in the horror film Queens of the Dead, further demonstrating her versatility and boundless creativity.

What truly sets Nina apart, though, is her unwavering commitment to making the world

a better place. She has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for LGBTQIA+ organizations, including The Trevor Project and the Human Rights Campaign. Through her performances, fundraising, and advocacy, she has become a powerful voice for equality and acceptance.

Nina doesn’t just entertain — she educates, uplifts, and inspires.

When I saw her perform in Seattle, it wasn’t just her incredible talent that left an impression on me — it was her heart. She has a rare ability to turn a packed theater into an intimate gathering, making every person feel seen and valued. Inspired

Twinless: A Masterpiece of Emotional Complexity

What makes Twinless stand out is its fearless portrayal of queer identity and the emotional weight of isolation. This isn’t a sanitized or simplified depiction of grief — it’s messy, complicated, and deeply human.

by Frank Gaimari www.FranksFilmReview.com

Twinless isn’t just a film — it’s a visceral journey into the raw, unfiltered realities of grief, identity, and the human need for connection. At its heart, it’s a queer story, unapologetically authentic and unafraid to delve into the complexities of flawed, searching individuals.

The story centers on Roman, a man struggling to navigate life after the devastating loss of his twin brother, Rocky. His grief is a storm of anger, isolation, and selfdoubt, leaving him at odds with himself and those around him. Roman’s pain is unmistakable, but it’s his yearning for connection that drives the narrative forward. His journey leads him to a support group for twinless twins, where he meets Dennis, a peculiar and enigmatic figure played by the film’s writer and director, James Sweeney. As their relationship deepens, the film unravels secrets and explores how loneliness can push people toward unexpected, and sometimes questionable, choices. The result is a story that feels deeply personal yet universally resonant, especially for anyone who has ever felt out of place or disconnected.

What makes Twinless stand out is its fearless portrayal of queer identity and the emotional weight of isolation. This isn’t a sanitized or simplified depiction of grief — it’s messy, complicated, and deeply human. Roman’s anger and self-imposed isolation are not just character traits; they are the driving forces of his journey, making his search for solace more poignant. Dennis, on the other hand, is a character who defies easy categorization. He gradually reveals layers of vulnerability

and desperation, embodying the lengths people will go to in order to connect.

The film’s refusal to shy away from the complexities of its characters is one of its greatest strengths. Rocky, Roman’s twin, is portrayed as selfish and hedonistic, living for the moment without regard for the emotional consequences. It’s a portrayal that feels frustratingly real, adding depth and nuance to the story. In Twinless, queer characters are allowed to be messy, flawed, and fully human, reflecting the intricacies of real life and relationships.

Aisling Franciosi delivers a standout performance as Marcie, Roman’s steadfast anchor in a world that feels increasingly unstable. Marcie is not just a supporting character; she is the film’s emotional compass, offering warmth, empathy, and a sense of stability. Franciosi brings a quiet strength to the role, creating a character who is calming and assertive. Marcie doesn’t try to fix Roman or his grief; instead, she offers him acceptance and understanding.

Dylan O’Brien delivers a masterful dual performance as Roman and Rocky, capturing the stark contrast between the two brothers. As Roman, he embodies the raw vulnerability of grief, while as Rocky, he exudes magnetic yet unsettling charisma. James Sweeney’s portrayal of Dennis is equally compelling, blending charm with an undercurrent of unease that perfectly complements the film’s themes of vulnerability and deception.

Visually, Twinless is a feast for the senses. Greg Cotten’s cinematography captures the moody, introspective atmosphere of Portland, using the city’s overcast skies and muted tones to mirror the film’s emotional depth. Sweeney’s direction is a delicate balancing act, seamlessly blending dark comedy and psychological drama. Every scene feels intentional, drawing the audience deeper into the characters’ world.

Twinless, which premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival, was met with widespread acclaim, earning the Audience Award in the U.S. Dramatic Competition

and a Special Jury Award for Dylan O’Brien’s exceptional performance. The film’s success is a testament to the power of authentic storytelling, particularly in its unapologetic embrace of queer narratives.

This film is a must-watch — one that demands to be felt as much as seen. It’s a bold, unapologetically queer exploration of grief, anger, and the unexpected ways we find connection in a disconnected world.

Now available to stream on all major platforms.

OP-ED -

ART - From Page 9

language, shock, and anger when they didn’t understand how else to articulate it.

These artists weren’t trying to erase, diminish, or devalue widespread tragedy. They were trying to process, challenge, and document it. Their work didn’t end the war, but it did direct public awareness in a revolutionary way that still matters today (and maybe now more than ever). It helped people feel less alone in their emotions and helped many people realize that they weren’t the only ones questioning what was happening. They weren’t alone in feeling the heaviness and despair in the world, and there was a likeminded community that could be brought together via art.

That pattern has repeated throughout history: during civil rights movements, during the AIDS crisis, during times of political unrest, even during the pandemic. When people are hurting, art becomes one of the ways they make sense of their experience, and it can be extremely therapeutic and meaningful.

LGBTQ+ people have always used art to survive and be seen

For the LGBTQ+ community, throughout history, art has often served an even more specific role: it’s been one of the safest and most accessible ways to express identity in a world that hasn’t always held space for it and even condemned it.

Before many people could come out openly, they expressed themselves through their art. They wrote poetry, made zines, coded queer identity into visual art, expressed gender through performances, and found recognition, family and community through music. These weren’t just creative hobbies. They were ways of finding community, testing identity, and communicating to others, “You’re not alone,” and “we feel it too.”

Even now, when LGBTQ+ visibility is far greater than it once was, many people within the community still find that creative spaces are where they feel safest being fully themselves. Open mics, art shows, photography

Belonging is one of the strongest protective factors for mental health. Art communities foster belonging without requiring people to constantly explain themselves.

projects, drag performances, film sets, writing groups, and community workshops more often than not, become chosen family environments. These are places where expression isn’t constantly questioned, explained, or corrected but revered and celebrated.

That’s part of why LGBTQ+ art matters so much, culturally. It doesn’t just entertain us; it preserves lived experiences. It reflects the realities and intricacies that are often missing from widely popular narratives. It gives people permission to exist more fully.

My relationship with art started as coping, not creativity

On a smaller scale and a more personal level, I didn’t start making art or promoting artists because I thought of myself as an artist... I started because I needed something to get through the hardships that I didn’t understand yet.

As a kid, music and literature were my go-tos. I used these mediums to escape from the abuse I endured and witnessed, to tune out tension, to regulate my emotions, and to create some sense of internal space when my external environment was in total disarray. Sometimes I played music just to block out noise. Sometimes I focused on lyrics that led me to feel like someone else understood the feelings and concepts that I didn’t have the

words for. Art is an insight into the soul, and it helps us to feel more human and connected, or at the very least, curious. For lonely kids and lonely people, art is fundamental.

At the time, I didn’t know the word “self-regulation.” I simply found that music, reading, and writing helped me. That I could breathe more easily with my headphones on, a book in my hand, or a journal to fill out. Certain songs, specific authors, and creative writing helped me get through times that, in many ways, I wanted to escape. Many albums felt like emotional anchors and books helped whisk me away to a place different than the one I was in.

But it wasn’t just escapism. Creativity and art made me feel empowered and hopeful. I grew an extensive vocabulary from reading, I became more understanding by listening to music, and I gained more emotional awareness by writing down my feelings and exploring their meaning.

A lot of people have similar experiences. Some people journal. Some draw. Some write poetry and never show it to anyone, some make playlists for every mood, some take photos because it helps them feel more grounded. These aren’t simply hobbies; they’re coping strategies.

Science supports what people have always known

The idea that art helps people isn’t just emotional or anecdotal anymore. There’s legitimate research behind it.

Large-scale reviews of studies, including those performed by the World Health Organization, have found consistent evidence that participating in art (both creating and consuming) can strengthen mental health, reduce stress, improve mood, and help people cope with trauma.

Music therapy has been studied extensively and is associated with reduced anxiety and depression symptoms. Listening to calming music has been shown to lower heart rate and reduce cortisol (the stress hormone).

Visual art has similar effects.

Brain imaging studies show that viewing meaningful artwork activates regions of your brain that are associated with reward, emotional processing, and motivation. Some research has also shown that being around art (including gallery environments) can reduce measurable stress markers.

Essentially, that means art doesn’t just feel helpful; it is helpful, and it has real, physical effects on the nervous system.

The conversation around sound frequencies

There’s been a lot of discussion online about specific sound frequencies, like 432 Hz and 528 Hz, being “healing.” The reality is slightly more complex.

Some research suggests that certain tunings may influence relaxation or physiological markers such as your heart rate and cortisol levels. But the research is still limited, and there isn’t a strong scientific consensus that one frequency is better than another.

What is strongly supported is this: music that feels meaningful, familiar, and emotionally powerful can help to manage your mood and stress. The result often comes more from emotional connection than the frequency itself.

If a certain type of music helps you feel calmer, safer, or more grounded, that experience is valid. The “why” doesn’t have to be perfectly understood for the benefit to be real.

Why creating still matters while everything feels heavy

When people say, “What’s the point of art right now?” They’re not being dismissive; they’re often scared or exhausted.

The point isn’t that art fixes systemic problems; it doesn’t. But it does support the people living with those problems.

Art gives structure to overwhelming emotions. It helps people process experiences they can’t easily talk about. It reduces isolation by creating a feeling of understanding. Art provides times of calm in overstimulating environments and can give a sense

of agency when the world appears out of control.

For LGBTQ+ people in particular, art often carries even more weight. It can be a way to discover identity safely, to connect with others with common experiences, and to document lives that are still frequently misunderstood or erased.

You don’t have to be making explicitly political art for your work to matter. Honest art, work that reflects real experience, becomes meaningful simply because it is authentic.

Community matters more than perfection

One of the most powerful things about art isn’t the finished product. It’s the community that forms around it.

People meet each other through creative projects. They build trust in rehearsal rooms, in group chats, through zines, gallery openings, on collaborative film sets, and during photography walks. These

it helps you process, regulate, or feel more connected to yourself, it’s doing its job. Art doesn’t have to be impressive to be important; it just needs to be honest and human.

Final thoughts

The world truly is heavy right now. You are not imagining it. Many people are struggling in very real ways; emotionally, financially, socially, and politically. It makes sense that creativity can feel small, unnecessary, or excessive in comparison. But art has never existed because the world was easy. It has always existed because the world is complicated, painful, confusing, heavy, and unfair.

People create because they strive to understand themselves, connect with others, to express emotion “out loud”. That’s not indulgent nor tone deaf; that’s survival.

If making something helps you stay grounded, feel less alone, or helps you get through the day, that’s reason enough. Additionally, if sharing that work helps someone else feel validated, even briefly, it’s not trivial. It’s meaningful.

connections act as lifelines, especially for people who don’t feel fully supported in other areas of life.

Belonging is one of the strongest protective factors for mental health. Art communities foster belonging without requiring people to constantly explain themselves.

You don’t have to be a professional; you just have to show up.

You don’t need permission to create

A lot of people stop before they even start because they think their work won’t be “good enough” or “serious enough” and that mindset prevents so many meaningful expressions.

You don’t need credentials or an established platform, or approval. You can write privately, make cathartic sketches, sing in your car, and/or take photos of things that only YOU will ever see. If

Don’t stop creating art; we need you and your art more than ever.

informed by both education and lived experience, with a focus on building spaces rooted in connection and belonging.

She works as a Social Media Manager and community strategist with ARU Creative and is a producer on the indie sitcom Almost... Not Quite, supporting production and community outreach efforts that amplify underrepresented voices. In her free time, she enjoys photography, especially capturing architecture in Spokane.

Website: https://www.instagram. com/cant_hardly_bnw/

PROFILES - Continued

GUMPERT - From Page 2

His husband, Christopher, has been central to that journey. The two have been together for over twenty-three years and began painting side by side early in their relationship, initially as something playful—creative date nights without expectation. Over time, those experiments drifted toward abstraction, almost by accident. Gumpert found freedom there: less pressure to represent, more room to feel.

That openness is still what draws him back to abstraction. “I always default to it,” he says, because it’s never the same twice. While motifs and color palettes may reappear, repetition isn’t the goal. Expression is. Evolution is. That commitment—to not painting the same thing over and over—can be risky, but it’s also what keeps the work alive.

Nature is a constant presence. Living less than a mile from the forest, Gumpert pulls from what’s immediately around him. His Taller Than the Trees series suggests implied forestscapes that feel surreal and slightly mystical—rooted in real places but filtered through memory and mood. In recent years, the Puget Sound and the Oregon coast have become equally influential. Tidepools, shorelines, and the movement of water push his work toward fluidity, toward edges that refuse to stay fixed.

While Gumpert doesn’t paint queerness literally, it surfaces everywhere. The connection between sexuality and abstraction is subconscious but persistent—a search for light in darkness, a movement from disorder toward something gentler. Those themes emerge organically, not as statements but as sensations. They live in the layers.

That layering process is central to his practice. Early stages often involve poured inks and acrylics on a horizontal surface, allowing gravity and chance to take the lead. Gumpert walks away, lets the piece dry, returns the next day to see what has happened. What’s left—those unpredictable marks and flows—guides the next decision. Some moments are adjusted, others left alone as “happy accidents,” traces of something he couldn’t have planned but wouldn’t want to lose.

Texture builds through heavybody acrylics and gestural applications. In later layers, Gumpert often turns to oil sticks—oil paint in crayon form— which he’s used extensively over the last decade. They allow him to work quickly while retaining the depth and richness of oil. He draws with them, spreads them with palette knives, sometimes uses his hands. The result is a surface that feels both grounded and ethereal, immediate and deep.

That sense of duality is especially present in A Quality of Mercy (60 x 60), a recent painting shown last October in a group exhibition titled Duality. The work holds stillness and movement side by side, heat and coolness, complexity and restraint. There are dark, even sinister passages, but Gumpert sees the light as winning—pouring out, washing over what feels heavy.

The title came to him the way many do: indirectly. Music is always playing in the studio, and sometimes a lyric or phrase lodges itself in his mind. Gumpert also finds inspiration in unexpected places—Star Trek among them. A Quality of Mercy shares its name with an episode that lingered with him, resonating with both the painting and the moment we’re living in. In a world thick with anxiety and division, mercy feels less like an abstraction and more like a necessity.

Naming, for Gumpert, is never literal. Titles are entry points rather than explanations. Sometimes he even invites others into the process, asking for suggestions online and seeing what language rises up around the work.

Despite decades of experience, he’s still surprised—and deeply grateful—when someone connects with a painting enough to take it home. That exchange, that quiet recognition, is part of what keeps him going.

In the end, Gumpert’s work isn’t about control. It’s about trust: in materials, in process, in the slow emergence of meaning. Layer by layer, he paints toward something softer, brighter, and more honest—proof that even in the abstract, light can be found, and mercy can take shape.

Continued - PROFILES, REGIONAL, NATIONAL

MIGRATION - From Page 13 struggle, relocation becomes less a choice than a means of survival.

The movement is not limited to transgender people. A far larger number of LGBTQ+ people overall have also changed states since the Trump election. While the percentage is smaller— about 5% of non-transgender

EMERALD - From Page 8

Spaces and open to everyone!” said Dustin Butcher, a local at the Emerald.

History of the Emerald

The Emerald of Siam has been around in Richland for generations.

“We just celebrated our 42nd anniversary,” said owner Dara Quinn, “and we were the original Thai restaurant in the Tri-Cities. The first one. My mother opened the place in 1983 to share Thai food and culture with the community. She always provided a nurturing, welcoming atmosphere since the very beginning. Over the years we’ve had grade school kids come for presentations, cooking classes, and art exhibits.

“We love to help host fundraisers and benefits for local groups and individuals in need. Besides amazing Thai food and worldclass nightlife, we have provided a space for young artists to get their first live performance experience, including hosting local middle school and high school jazz bands during the school year and having an all-ages open mic.”

The Emerald of Siam also hosts another one-of-a-kind event: an all-ages drag brunch. Since before the pandemic, the venue has held these family-friendly drag brunches about quarterly. Children may come with their parents: any raunchiness is omitted, and the family has a great time.

“I’ve had parents thank me personally for having a safe space for their children to be exposed to the culture and how warm and supportive it can be,” said Quinn. “Particularly parents of teens who are LGBTQ and worried about expressing themselves and don’t know if they will ever have a

place in the community.”

These brunches went somewhat under the radar until 2021, when the mayor told her church congregation to let the Emerald know their dismay. This led to an avalanche of vandalism and hate calls and mail to the venue, including a death threat. An overwhelming number of LGBTQ+ people and allies then marched to city council and showed their support of the restaurant, the largest turnout the city attorney had seen in ten years, according to a local report.

An Example for Other Towns

When Queer visibility is woven into everyday community life, when a restaurant becomes a sanctuary, and when joy is shared across generations, something powerful happens: people feel seen. In this way, the Emerald of Siam sets an example for other rural towns and places without typical LGBTQ+ bars and clubs.

“I don’t know, we just have always been ‘people people’ from the start,” said Quinn. “Not politically affiliated, not activists, just lovers. And we welcome everyone.

“It’s kind of like someone saying, ‘Oh, you are so lucky to have Thai food every day’ … well, to Thai people, it is just food. So to say, “Oh, that’s nice that you welcome LGBTQ+ people,” well, we just welcome everybody.

“But it so happens that we have had to stand up as an ally, because we were targeted by bigots. And I am happy to wave the flag as a safe space for the LGBTQ+ community.”

The Emerald of Siam Thai Restaurant and Lounge is located at 1314 Jadwin Ave, Richland, WA 98354, and can be found on Facebook at https://www.facebook. com/emeraldofsiam

LGBTQ+ respondents—the raw numbers are much larger, translating to roughly 1.5 million people relocating across state lines since the election. Their reasons closely mirror those cited by transgender respondents: widespread harassment, persistent discrimination, and a growing sense that remaining in place has become untenable.

This is not the first survey to document this kind of movement. In 2023, Data for Progress examined transgender migration in the aftermath of harsh antitransgender legislation passed at the state level, and found similarly large numbers of transgender people reporting that they had moved to a different state as a result. While the Movement

Advancement Project survey focuses only on migration since the 2024 election, the broader pattern is clear: this migration has been underway for several years, and the true number of transgender people who have relocated in response to hostile policy environments is likely far larger than any single survey can capture.

PROFILES - Continued

PLANT GURU - From Page 18

A significant part of Anthony’s appeal is his undeniable charisma. With a magnetic presence and striking looks, he attracts fans who are as drawn to his persona as to his expertise. Yet his allure goes far beyond appearances. Saint Planthony represents a new kind of expert-influencer: approachable, transparent, and genuinely sincere. He readily shows his true self, a quality that resonates deeply with his audience. His quick wit and openness help dissolve the usual distance between creator and follower, cultivating a fan base that trusts his guidance as much as it admires his aesthetic.

More than anything, Saint Planthony serves as a source of emotional support for his viewers. In a world often marked by uncertainty, D’Alto’s content acts as a pressure valve, offering relief from daily stress. Though his videos entertain, they also provide a space where it’s acceptable to feel overwhelmed. To Anthony, plants are more than decorations — they’re companions and grounding mechanisms in turbulent times.

“I never expected the world to be so full of support,” D’Alto reflects, recognizing the vibrant community that has blossomed around him. By balancing humor with heartfelt sincerity, he validates his audience’s anxieties and offers a gentle escape into a greener, kinder world. Through his work, he shows that even small, local spaces can offer profound comfort when the wider world feels overwhelming.

To learn more about the man behind “Saint Planthony,” I reached out for an interview, and he graciously agreed. We met for coffee on a cold Seattle morning, and as the city buzzed outside, our conversation began. What follows is a Q&A that explores his inspirations, the roots of his digital persona, and the advice he shares with his growing community.

Frank Gaimari: Can you share a bit about your journey into gardening and plant care?

Anthony D’Alto: My journey into gardening and plant care began during one of the most difficult periods of my life. I was living in Florida, recently single, without a car, and feeling completely

stuck and isolated. One day, searching for something to focus on, I picked up a couple of plants from the supermarket. At first, I couldn’t even keep them alive, but with nothing else to do and no friends or partner around, I became determined to figure out how to care for them. That small act of nurturing gave me a sense of purpose, and slowly, it started to pull me out of my depression.

Around the same time, I began exploring the healing potential of mushrooms to help with my depression and PTSD, which had roots in a chaotic childhood. This wasn’t about recreation; it was a genuine attempt to find a path to healing. I was amazed by how these natural organisms could shift my perspective and help me see the world differently. That experience, combined with my growing connection to plants, completely changed my life.

Plants became my anchor, offering me something to care for and learn from. Within a few months, I had over 150 plants, and each day brought new discoveries about them and about myself. Plants didn’t just spark my curiosity; they helped me heal. They lifted me out of a dark place and revealed the beauty and magic in the world that I hadn’t seen before.

FG: What inspired you to start creating TikTok and Instagram videos?

AD: I’ve always had a creative streak when it comes to making videos. It began back in 2002, when I got my first video camera in second grade. The camera came with editing software, and I immediately fell in love with the process of creating something that captured my inner world. Back then, sharing videos meant working with VHS tapes or battling dial-up internet, but for me, it was always about finding a way to show the world from my perspective.

Fast forward to the winter of 2020, when I lost my job and slipped into a deep depression. During that difficult time, I decided to return to video creation, making animations, dream-inspired clips, and anything that felt meaningful enough to share. It gave me a renewed sense of purpose and a much-needed outlet for self-expression.

Eventually, I got the job at The Plant Store, which helped take my mind off things and provided a new environment to explore. One day, I thought, “Why not make a video about plants?” I posted it, and it received around 3,000 views, far more than any of my previous videos. That moment was a turning point; I realized people were genuinely connecting with what I was creating, and it motivated me to keep going.

Now, creating videos isn’t just about sharing my perspective; it’s about building a community. It’s a way to share what I’ve learned, connect with others, and create something meaningful together.

FG: How do you come up with ideas for your videos?

AD: Coming up with ideas for my videos is a mix of creativity, overthinking, and finding inspiration in everyday moments. I’ve always had a very active mind. Sometimes it feels like my brain is constantly running “what-if” scenarios. For much of my life, that overthinking could feel overwhelming, but I’ve learned how to redirect it and use it to my advantage. Now, instead of spiraling into intrusive thoughts, I channel that energy into brainstorming ideas for my videos.

Many of my ideas come to me while I’m pacing around, whether at home or at The Plant Store, earbuds in and lost in thought. Movement really helps me think, and I’ll let my mind wander until something clicks. Inspiration might come from a comment I’ve read, a headline I’ve seen, or even just a random thought that pops into my head. I rarely script my videos. Instead, I jot down a few key points and let the rest unfold naturally.

When I first started my page, I had a series where I’d introduce the weekly plant shipments at the store, giving them playful personalities like “gay” or “lesbian” plants. People loved it, but I quickly realized I couldn’t keep calling plants “gay” every week and have it feel fresh. That realization pushed me to experiment with new ideas, weaving in topics like mental health and current events. I’ve found that being honest about struggles, whether they’re my own or about something happening in the world, really resonates with

people. It’s not about pretending everything is perfect; it’s about finding humor and connection in tough times.

The comments from my audience are also a huge source of inspiration. Early on, people would leave heartfelt feedback, sharing what they loved or wanted to see more of. Even now, as my page has grown, I still look at the comments to see what’s resonating. It reminds me that the things I’m struggling with aren’t unique. Thousands of people out there feel the same way. When I can make someone feel seen or even get a laugh, that’s what keeps me going. It’s all about creating a space where people can connect, feel understood, and hopefully find a little joy in the process.

FG: How do you balance humor and sincerity in your content?

AD: Balancing humor and sincerity in my content comes naturally to me. It’s how I’ve always dealt with life’s challenges. Growing up in a chaotic household with an abusive stepfather, my sister and I coped by turning everything into a joke. No matter how tough things got, we always found a way to laugh about it. For us, humor wasn’t about ignoring the pain; it was a way to make difficult situations bearable. That mindset has definitely carried over into my videos.

I believe people want to feel truly acknowledged. They don’t want to be bombarded with fake enthusiasm or hollow corporate positivity. That’s why I try to break down those barriers by being honest about what frustrates me, too. At the same time, I don’t want to fuel anger or negativity. There’s already enough of that online. Instead, I want my videos to meet people where they are, whether they’re feeling overwhelmed or simply need a moment to breathe.

My goal is to say, “Yeah, it sucks, but let’s calm down, laugh about it, and keep going.” If I can help someone get out of bed or make them feel a little less alone, then I’ve done my job.

FG: What role do plants play in your personal life and mental health?

PLANT GURU - To Next Page

AD: Plants are more than a part of my life. They’re a lifeline. They give me a sense of control in a world that often feels unpredictable. Caring for them, whether it’s watering, trimming, or simply watching them thrive, creates a small, safe ecosystem that brings me peace and stability.

They’re not just a hobby; they’re a source of grounding and perspective. When I look at the little world I’ve nurtured, I’m reminded that even during chaos, there’s room for growth, beauty, and calm. Plants don’t just decorate my space; they anchor me.

FG: What’s your favorite plant and why?

VOICES - From Page 3

conversation. We spoke about battling complacency as we all acclimate to an environment of trauma. We talked about how to turn hope into a verb and use it to build ourselves stronger. Most importantly, we remembered our voices and came together to talk.

I am not unique, I am not special, but I have a voice and a need to use it. I truly believe that a community that comes together and builds connection through conversation can impact the

AD: My favorite is the Black Magic Begonia. It’s mesmerizing. The plant has deep, almost black leaves with red stems, and when sunlight shines through from behind, the leaves glow a vibrant red. It’s breathtaking.

FG: What’s next for Saint Planthony?

AD: I’m starting a YouTube channel, something I’ve dreamed of doing for more than two years. It will give me the opportunity to dive deeper into my special interests and share even more of what I love with others. I’m excited to create longer, more meaningful content and connect with people on a different level.

Looking ahead, my ultimate dream is to create a true “third space”

world. I have hope that more and more people will come out to join us, to talk with others they do not know. I hope that we will remember the importance of exchanging ideas, and come to realize that “communication” means nothing if we do not first find each other in conversation.

In the great words of the American cultural anthropologist and author Margaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

Continued - PROFILES, REGIONAL

for the community. I imagine transforming an old church into a greenhouse, filling it with plants to make a peaceful, welcoming place where people can connect, recharge, and experience nature without having to travel far from home. I want it to be a sanctuary, a place where anyone can walk in, breathe deeply, and feel a sense of belonging.

In the end, Saint Planthony is doing more than selling plants; he is nurturing a community. He reminds us that even when the world feels like it’s withering, there is always room for new growth — both in our homes and within ourselves. Through his playful videos, candid advice, and the welcoming atmosphere of his Capitol Hill shop, Anthony

D’Alto has created a space where everyone is invited to put down roots and flourish.

Meeting D’Alto in person only deepened my admiration. I found him to be as kind and gentle as his online persona suggests, radiating genuine warmth and curiosity. Our conversation left me feeling like a member of his ever-growing community — a fan not just of his plant wisdom, but of the compassion and joy he brings to everyone who crosses his path.

Instagram account: https://www. instagram.com/saintplanthony/ Facebook account: https:// www.facebook.com/profile. php?id=61575555492261

NATIONAL - Continued

NATIONAL - From Page 17 move comes amid city-wide protests and business closures. This letter reflects a deep tension for corporate America: between reputational risk management and societal stability, a key element of long-term profitability.

EEOC Rescinds LGBTQInclusive Workplace Harassment Guidance

The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission revoked its 2017 guidance stating that sexual orientation and gender identity are covered by Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which bars sex-based discrimination in employment. The agency now asserts the guidance document “was not intended to provide legal interpretations,” and that Title VII interpretations are determined “through agency adjudications and federal court decisions.” Read more in The Advocate.

A Little Koppa Survey

I don’t like to preach to my parish (in this case, Koppa, an economic empowerment non-profit I cofounded in 2024), BUT our ability to build economic power will determine our future. Help us refine Koppa Lab’s strategy by sharing what resonates, what causes confusion, and how you want to hear from us (5–8 minutes, anonymous).

Semi-Cultural Desk

What to watch? Murphy’s new thing: “The Beauty”

The Beauty, Ryan Murphy’s latest body horror spectacle and current Hulu hit, promises a brutal critique of beauty culture. Featuring dead supermodels, a sinister tech bro (Ashton Kutcher), and Bella Hadid’s acting debut, the FX series is said to be gruesome. I watched the trailer and am debating whether to watch

it. Hollywood Reporter mentioned that the cast might compensate for the show’s other flaws.

What to watch? “Peter Hujar’s Day”

I had some time on my way back from Mérida on Saturday, so I finally watched Peter Hujar’s Day. I think it’s about friendship, a New York bohemian era, and how we spend our time. It felt melancholic. I miss cell phones, predictability, and a smaller, slower world overall, even though I wasn’t born in 1974. Then, the world’s population hit 4 billion. Now, there are 8 billion—twice as many. It’s sad to know Hujar would die of AIDS at 53. I suspect the movie wasn’t a commercial success.

Peter died penniless and only known among a certain group of people. I think that hearing his voice, so to speak, in the book and in the film really tells people who he was.

The Fab5 drama

I never watched an episode of “Queer Eye”. In fact, I never watched an episode of reality TV. I feel that, given the disastrous consequences of “The Apprentice,” I might be onto something. And not unlike Minnesota CEOs, I must have something to take a stance on. Everybody has their red lines. Time thinks differently. So anyway, the Karamo Brown drama is gay news, too. Here is the gist of what the fight is about:

His co-stars, including Antoni Porowski, Tan France, Jeremiah Brent, and Jonathan Van Ness, reportedly spoke negatively about the media personality, ranging from how he looked to how he dressed.

Pattie Gonia vs. Patagonia

There is a different drama

between Pattie Gonia and the apparel company. A drag queen fighting with a B-corp? What has this world come to?

Inside the world of Lord Ivar Mountbatten

King Charles’ cousin, who triumphed on the show The Traitor, was in Tatler Magazine in October 2019 and they just reposted the interview, so if you are curious:

James had also spent years trying to bury his sexuality. He grew up as one of four, and remembers his father referring to him as ‘the queer one’ when they were young.

What to read? Les Bateaux sur la terrasse

On that long trip back from the Yucatan, I read French heartthrob Jessé Rémond Lacroix’s debut novel, Les Bateaux sur la terrasse, a deeply personal autofiction that explores childhood wounds and the challenge of forgiving those who loved imperfectly. I suspect this is a nearly universal dilemma for LGBTQ+ people. The 33-yearold actor revisits his experience of being bullied at school for being “too effeminate,“ his strained relationship with a single mother he saw as indifferent, and the shadow cast by an uncle who died of AIDS in the 1990s. With precise, evocative prose praised by reviewers for its emotional restraint and poetic power, Lacroix examines forgiveness not as an obligation but as a conscious choice—one that involves digging into family silences and facing the ghost of queer trauma.

Sugar Daddy Hits London & NYC

Comedian Sam Morrison turns grief into gut-busting joy in Sugar Daddy, a solo show about love, loss, and Type 1 diabetes. Backed by Broadway’s Dale Mott, the production hits London in March and NYC for Pride. A raw, funny, queer must-see—with sponsorships now open. Contact Dale directly if you are interested in supporting this important play.

Coming and Going

Delaware Creates First LGBTQ+ Commission

Former Delaware Governor Bethany Hall-Long signed Executive Order No. 1 on January 16, 2025, establishing the state’s

first LGBTQ+ Commission. The nine-member commission will work to strengthen ties between the government and LGBTQ+ organizations, help eliminate barriers to societal participation for LGBTQ+ individuals, and enhance the coordination of state resources. Details in the State of Delaware News.

Lindsay Church Launches Congressional Campaign

Non-binary veteran and nonprofit leader Lindsay Church announced their campaign for Illinois’s 4th Congressional District, becoming one of the few openly non-binary candidates seeking federal office. Church, who served under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell“ and fled Virginia with their family in 2023 amid anti-queer harassment, is running after the incumbent Democrat Representative Jesús “Chuy” García announced his retirement after the filing deadline, effectively setting up their chief of staff as successor without competition. Read more in Pink News.

Rainbow Railroad Seeks Director

Based in Toronto with international travel, this key role will guide Rainbow Railroad’s shift to a refugee-led model, co-developing the Queer Refugee Leadership Institute and embedding queer refugee leadership across the organization. Applicants with lived experience of displacement are strongly encouraged to apply by February 10.

The Gay Agenda

February 20th: Black Queer Memory Reclaims Fire Island

The Leslie-Lohman Museum of Art reopens on February 20 with Sacred and Profane, a haunting and deeply moving exhibition by Pamela Sneed and Carlos Martiel, presented in partnership with BOFFO. Drawing from their residencies on Fire Island, the two artists explore the island’s buried Black history.

February 26-March 2: Miami Winter Party Festival

Now in its 33rd year, the Winter Party Festival will welcome thousands of international attendees to South Florida for what organizers call “the hottest winter in the world.“

NINA WEST - From Page 20 by her warmth and authenticity, I decided to reach out with a few questions I thought her fans — myself included — would love answered. True to form, Nina was beyond gracious, kind, and enthusiastic, agreeing to an interview without hesitation. What followed was a conversation as vibrant and uplifting as the queen herself, in which she shared insights into her journey, her advocacy, and her vision for the future.

Frank Gaimari: Hosting A Drag Queen Christmas must have been a truly unique experience. What was your favorite part of connecting with audiences across the country?

Nina West: Pinpointing my favorite part of the tour is a challenge, because I truly love it all. Meeting the fans, hearing their stories, and feeling their energy brings me so much joy. I love hosting these shows, stepping onto the stage, and sharing something magical with the audience. Traveling across the country during the holiday season and soaking in the beauty and spirit of each place was incredibly special.

If I had to choose one thing that stands out, it’s the connection. Last year’s tour reminded me how powerful it is to connect with people on a basic, human level. Bringing joy to others, especially during tough times, is deeply meaningful. Looking out into the audience and seeing people smiling, laughing, and letting go of their worries, even for a little while, is an indescribable feeling. It’s a privilege to be part of that.

What makes it even more incredible is seeing how audiences, no matter where they’re from, share the same reactions to joy, hope, and laughter. It’s a beautiful reminder that, at our core, we’re all connected by these universal emotions. That’s the best part of the gig — witnessing that connection, feeling that energy, and knowing I get to help create those moments of happiness.

FG: Growing up in Greentown, Ohio, did you ever imagine that drag would take you to such incredible heights?

NW: Honestly, no. I mean, I always had this feeling deep down that I was meant to do something big, something that would make

an impact. I felt that calling in my bones, even as a kid. But if you had told me back then that this would be the path I’d take — that drag would be the vehicle to carry me to where I am today — I don’t think I would have believed you.

It’s funny how life works. You have these dreams, these inklings of something greater, but the way it all unfolds can be so unexpected. I never could have predicted that the art of drag, something so vibrant, creative, and deeply personal, would become the thing that not only shaped my career but also allowed me to connect with so many people in such a meaningful way. It’s been a journey beyond anything I could have imagined, and I’m so grateful for it.

FG: What inspired you to make Drag Is Magic?

NW: I started working on the album after the landmark marriage equality ruling. It was a transformative period, watching so many of my Queer friends marry and start families. Witnessing our community grow in such a beautiful way was incredibly inspiring.

I’ll never forget one friend’s comment that stayed with me. They said they wanted to raise their kids with an education that reflected their values — their joy, their love, and the vibrant spirit that defines our community. That simple thought hit me deeply. It planted a seed, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how important it is for children to grow up surrounded by stories, music, and messages that celebrate love, diversity, and acceptance.

That’s where the idea for Drag Is Magic began. It grew from a desire to create something that could bring joy and meaning to families and reflect the beauty of our community and the values we hold dear. Seeing how families have embraced it and how it’s resonated with both kids and parents has been one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life.

FG: You’ve raised significant funds for LGBTQ+ organizations. What motivates you to use your platform for activism?

NW: So many things have fueled my passion for activism, but at its core, it all comes back to one simple yet powerful idea: I never

want anyone in our community to feel isolated, alone, or like they don’t matter. That thought has always been the driving force behind everything I do.

No one should ever feel that their life is inconsequential or irrelevant. Everyone deserves to know they are seen, heard, and matter. That belief motivates me to use my platform to make a difference. It pushes me to raise funds, speak out, and fight for change. Knowing I can amplify voices and create spaces where people feel valued and supported — that’s what keeps me going. It’s what drives me every single day.

FG: How did it feel to step into the role of Edna Turnblad in the touring production of Hairspray?

NW: MASSIVE! IMMENSE! EXCITING! A DREAM! That’s exactly how it felt to step into the role of Edna Turnblad in the touring production. Even now, it feels surreal to say that I’ve had the privilege of playing her. Hairspray isn’t just one of the greatest Broadway musicals ever written — it’s a cultural touchstone. The source material is iconic, and the story carries so much heart, humor, and meaning. To be part of that legacy is nothing short of extraordinary.

What makes it even more special is the lineage of brilliance behind the role. Following in the footsteps of Divine, Harvey Fierstein, and so many other remarkable Ednas is an honor I don’t take lightly. Edna is one of the most beloved characters in American theater — she’s funny, vulnerable, and full of love. Getting to bring my own voice and perspective to such an iconic role was a dream come true.

FG: What’s the most rewarding part of being a role model for young LGBTQIA+ people and their families?

NW: I never set out to be a role model, but I’ve come to understand the importance of that role. For me, it’s about creating a space where people feel seen, respected, and heard — something we all need. The most rewarding part is hearing from fans who share how my work has made them feel safe or understood. Those moments remind me that what I’m doing matters, and that’s incredibly meaningful.

FG: Can you share a moment from RuPaul’s Drag Race that had a lasting impact on you?

NW: I think my elimination from season 11 was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. In that moment, it felt like the end of a colossal dream, but what I didn’t see was that it was the beginning of an even greater chapter in my life. That’s really what the whole experience has been — a series of moments that have shaped me in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

I’m so grateful that Ru took a chance on me and gave me the opportunity to be part of the show. Because of that, I’m now living my dreams, and I owe so much of that to him. It’s something I’ll always be thankful for.

FG: How do you stay grounded and maintain your positivity while balancing such a busy career?

NW: Honestly, I stay grounded by surrounding myself with amazing friends who keep me honest, lift me up, challenge me, and support me. They’re my foundation and my biggest source of strength, and they’re the reason I’m able to keep going, no matter how busy life gets.

FG: What’s next for Nina West? Are there any new projects or dreams you’re excited to pursue?

NW: I’m thrilled to be developing a brand-new solo show, which will premiere in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio, before heading to Provincetown this summer. It’s such a joy to keep exploring new creative avenues and challenging myself. I like to keep as many irons in the fire as possible — there’s always something new to dream up and bring to life!

Nina West is more than a drag queen — she’s a beacon of light, love, and laughter in a world that needs it most. Whether dazzling audiences, creating music that inspires self-expression, or championing LGBTQIA+ causes, Nina’s impact is profound. She shows us that magic happens when we embrace who we are and use our gifts to uplift others.

Nina’s website: www.ninawest.com.

COLUMNISTS - Continued

HOBBIT HOUSE - From Page 16

offering lightness to be more than charming. It’s been essential.

Lately, I’ve become increasingly aware of how often the world tries to rob us of our joy and energy. And it’s made me more determined than ever to steal it back—intentionally, stubbornly, and sometimes with snacks.

Part of that is fiercely protecting my sources of joy. It is the fuel we need to keep fighting and persisting.

My husband is high on that list.

Here are a few of my favorite #thingsmyhusbandsays from the past few years—offered as proof that love can look like laughter, and commitment can sound suspiciously like roasting.

After I attempted to cook a meal…

“You’ve had many successes in your life… tonight was not one of those. But you shouldn’t stop trying.”

And, later:

“Well, if anyone is going to discover a wrong way to cook fish, it’s going to be you.”

On my home decorating attempts…

“Sometimes I question if you’re really gay… and then I see you hung tassels that have tassels, and I feel reassured.”

Or this wisdom:

“Just because there’s room doesn’t mean there’s space.”

Or this:

“I’m wondering if you actually have a phobia of a square foot of un-decorated wall space?”

After returning from a public event…

“I’m always amused when people get twitter-pated around you… because I know you, and you’re a total weirdo.”

On preparing for a radio interview…

“Your haircut is so bad they’re going to hear it over the airwaves.”

Upon getting ready for bed…

“You should know you’ve caused

me twelve annoyances today… but I do still love you.”

When I told him I needed to be mean and intimidating in an upcoming meeting…

“That’s great. You’ll be about as mean and intimidating as a teddy bear throwing his jellybeans.”

Offering encouragement (in his own special way)…

“I appreciate how you make strong, bold decisions… sometimes they’re wrong, but at least they’re strong and bold.”

Upon discovering my toothbrush had been used…

“I’m going to be in bigger trouble now, but in my defense… we’re married, and your toothbrush was the only thing I could find.”

When informing me we were going hiking…

“We ARE going hiking, and you WILL like it.”

To prepare me for a conversation…

“Hey, I’m going to say some things, and then you’re going to say, ‘You’re absolutely right. I agree and understand.’ Got it?”

Before I was scheduled to speak to his colleagues…

“I see you’re speaking to my class tomorrow… I should probably pre-approve your outfit.”

Commenting on my sense of fashion…

“You can’t wear any of that… because you’re not and have never been a teenage muscle jock.”

Or, on a different day:

“I’m glad you think you look good… and hopefully the world will be kind to you and accept that.”

Or:

“I know you used to teach for FIDM… and then I remember that those who can’t do teach and then it makes more sense.”

Upon correcting my laundry method…

“I debated letting you continue to

believe that when you overstuff the dryer like that, it all magically dries… but I think it’s time you finally knew the truth. I always take it out and reload it for you.”

After I asked him for a favor… “I’m currently frustrated with you… but I’ll be less frustrated in twenty minutes and will respond then.”

When I mumbled and asked if he’d like ramen at the Buddhist temple…

“I’d LOVE to eat ramen at a nudist temple!”

After he got braces…

“I’m going to need you to start mommy-birding me all the good foods I’m missing.”

When I asked about suspicious charges on our credit card…

“The world often feels like it’s shrouded in darkness and misery. So I want you to know that sniffing the fragrances of beautiful candles brings me joy… now I’ll tell you about the candles I charged to our credit card.”

When he was frustrated with me…

“Be warned. I’m having very strong feelings at the moment. Half of them are directed at you. The other half are because I’m hungry.”

After I lost my sense of taste due to COVID…

“Hon, take a look at our house. You lost that sense a long time ago.”

When someone criticized me and I asked him if I’m insufferable…

“No. Unfortunately, I have to suffer you all the time.”

On our future deaths… “When you die, I plan to pass a few days later… because I won’t have anyone to find my phone or keys anymore, and that will be unbearable.”

On being successful in life…

“Part of my success is that I know my favorite pizza is olive. But I don’t need to hold out for only olive pizza. I know how to enjoy the heck out of a pepperoni or a

cheese.”

When I asked if the berries we were picking were edible…

“Don’t be silly. Everything is edible… at least once.”

On whether he’ll ever stop loving me…

“No. You’re stuck with me. No one else has the strength, charm, and charisma needed to put up with you.”

Some receive love letters.

I receive emotional support through sarcasm, snack-based diplomacy, and affectionate verbal uppercuts.

And somehow, in the middle of it all—between the chaos, the stress, the world’s heaviness, and the occasional dryer intervention—his humor has become one of the most steady, healing forces in my life.

Because when someone can make you laugh while life is trying to break you…

That’s not just comedy.

That’s love.

thousands

He’s developed mental health curriculum used by Washington State. He is a Robert Wood Johnson Foundation Culture of Health Fellow and has an MBA and an MA in Leadership. Oelrich was awarded the Peirone Prize for service in 2016 and has received congressional recognition for his work on poverty and homelessness issues. Oelrich has founded 3 nonprofits focused on youth issues, and he’s an advocate for increased collaboration and coordination.

RANCH - From Page 16

parcel of land in 2005.

We were here for the worst of #43—the Great Recession of ’07–’09—when everything felt fragile and unfinished and the ranch itself was still finding its legs. We were here for the magic of #44, watching hope collide with a parallel conservative reality that took shape almost immediately. The local chatter was ratcheted, unhinged, and easily debunked.

We were here for the upheaval of #45, when emboldened radicalization found permission from the top. Locals said out loud that they hated us, in townie Facebook groups. Groups that were moderated by conservatives, who mistook cruelty for “free speech,” while silencing dissent from liberal and minority voices. As above, so below: the behavior modeled nationally became license locally. Trans people were targeted and unalived at an accelerating pace. Hate stopped whispering and started shouting.

We were here for #46, when the nation—handed over like a crash victim—was painstakingly stabilized. The ship was patched, righted, and set back on a steady course. But oligarchs and their echo chambers insisted otherwise. Red hats stayed on and banners stayed up, grievances calcifying into identity.

And we were here for the election of #47. Fireworks, gunshots, and roars of triumph echoed through the valley from conservatives convinced their long-promised reckoning had finally arrived.

Then something interesting happened.

By February, fewer red hats in town. By April, the house with the banner-lined fence along the American Legion cemetery went quiet—everything taken down. By May, old election signs disappeared. By summer, the right-wing minority in this blue state retreated from governance and leaned into social media trolling, shifting from civic life to grievance performance in comment threads.

By November 2025, those radicalized bubbles were growing smaller, tighter, and more rabid. They’ve been fed a steady diet of fear: the immigrant, the trans person, the drag queen, the Black

or brown neighbor. They are told they are the majority by virtue of skin color and religion, even as their communities are beginning to move on without them.

Out here at the ranch, we’ve learned something that’s easy to forget in the churn of national politics: change doesn’t announce itself with fireworks. It shows up quietly, like conservative moderators in townie Facebook groups being removed because intolerance is no longer tolerated.

For those fighting this administration, for those exhausted by the chaos conservatives have sown nationally, here is the lesson the land keeps teaching us: stay.

Stay visible. Stay rooted. Stay boringly, stubbornly present. The right thrives on spectacle and exhaustion. They want us to burn out, move away, go quiet. The antidote isn’t matching their volume—it’s outlasting them. It’s building community that doesn’t center them. It’s caring for each other in ways that don’t trend but do endure.

We didn’t move out here to win arguments. We moved out here to live our values where they were least welcome. That choice carried us through recessions, demagogues, and national whiplash. It carries us now.

As the turbulent new year proceeds, the work ahead is not glamorous. It looks like mutual aid to neighbors. It looks like protecting trans kids in small towns and shielding immigrants from state violence. It looks like refusing to cede rural America to people who confuse hate with heritage. It looks like planting trees whose shade we may never sit under.

At the ranch, winter always gives way to spring. Not because it’s promised—but because it’s practiced. Day after day. Chore after chore.

So take the long view. Do the quiet work. And remember: even here in the rural mountains— especially here—progress is happening, whether the loudest people notice or not. Keep up the resistance, or as my Italian immigrant forebears fighting fascism would say: “Bella ciao, Bella ciao, ciao, ciao.”

perience into a business plan to reinvent the family farm and bring

to the public. This column shares their ongoing experience in working and living as out and proud members of their community in their guest ranch setting.