“A reminder that LGBTQ+ people have always been here, creating beauty even in the darkest circumstances.” (Language NSFW)

Queer History 947: Guess What, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky Was GAY AS FUCK by Wendy🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈🌈

Read on Substack

The year was 1877, and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was drowning. Not in the Moscow River, though he’d fucking consider it soon enough, but in the suffocating heteronormative bullshit of Imperial Russia. Here was a man whose soul screamed in B-flat minor, whose heart pounded in 4/4 time, and whose sexual identity was buried so deep beneath layers of social expectation that it would take historians over a century to dig through the wreckage and find the truth: Tchaikovsky was gay as a fucking rainbow, and it nearly destroyed him.

I literally played the youtube video musical all through writing this shit. Thats how fucking awesome this is.

Tchaikovsy, how I love you.

15 Queer Composers You Should Know | WFMT

The Tortured Genius Behind the Swan Lake

Let’s cut through the academic ass-kissing and get to the brutal reality. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, born in 1840 in Votkinsk, Russia, was a man caught between two worlds: the soaring heights of musical genius and the crushing depths of societal homophobia. This wasn’t some gentle “product of his time” situation—this was a death sentence with a fucking bow tie.

In 19th-century Russia, being gay wasn’t just socially unacceptable; it was literally illegal and punishable by exile to Siberia or worse. The Orthodox Church considered homosexuality a mortal sin, the state considered it a criminal act, and society considered it grounds for complete social annihilation. Tchaikovsky knew this shit intimately, and it carved holes in his psyche that would bleed beautiful, agonizing music for the rest of his life.

The evidence of Tchaikovsky’s sexuality isn’t hidden in some dusty archive—it’s splattered across his correspondence like blood on a battlefield. His letters to men, particularly to his nephew Vladimir “Bob” Davydov, drip with passion that no amount of Victorian-era emotional repression can disguise. These weren’t your typical “Dear Friend” pleasantries; these were love letters disguised as family correspondence, each word carefully chosen to dance around the truth that could have killed him.

The Marriage That Nearly Killed Him

Enter Antonina Miliukova, a woman whose timing was about as good as a heart attack during a symphony performance. In 1877, this aspiring opera singer decided to confess her love to Tchaikovsky through a series of increasingly desperate letters. Most gay men throughout history have developed sophisticated avoidance techniques for such situations, but Tchaikovsky was operating under a particularly cruel form of internalized homophobia mixed with genuine terror.

The composer’s response? He fucking married her. On July 18, 1877, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky walked down the aisle like a man walking to his execution, because that’s essentially what it was. The marriage was a disaster from day one—a psychological horror show that lasted all of nine weeks before Tchaikovsky fled like his ass was on fire.

But those nine weeks? They nearly broke him completely. Tchaikovsky’s mental health, already fragile from years of sexual repression and social anxiety, shattered like a champagne flute hitting concrete. He attempted suicide by walking into the Moscow River in October 1877, hoping to catch pneumonia and die “naturally” rather than face the shame of admitting his marriage was a lie. The water was too fucking cold, and he survived, but the psychological damage was done.

The Brother Who Lived Free

While Pyotr was busy torturing himself with heteronormative performance art, his younger brother Modest was living his truth with the kind of balls that would make a bull jealous. Modest Tchaikovsky was openly gay in a time when that shit could get you killed, and he gave exactly zero fucks about what society thought.

Modest became a prominent playwright and librettist, penning the libretto for Pyotr’s “Queen of Spades” among other works. Their artistic collaboration flowed from deep fraternal understanding and shared sensibilities—two gay brothers finding ways to create beauty in a world that wanted them dead. But the difference between them was stark: Modest embraced his identity and lived authentically, while Pyotr remained trapped in a cage of his own making.

The psychological impact of watching his brother live freely while he remained closeted must have been excruciating. Modest’s existence was living proof that authenticity was possible, even in Imperial Russia, but Pyotr’s internalized shame and terror kept him locked away from his own truth.

The Music That Bled Truth

Here’s where Tchaikovsky’s genius becomes both heartbreaking and historically significant: he couldn’t live his truth, so he composed it. Every note, every crescendo, every heart-wrenching melody was a piece of his closeted soul screaming for recognition. The “Pathétique” Symphony, his final masterpiece, isn’t just music—it’s a fucking suicide note written in B minor.

Listen to the 1812 Overture and try to tell me that’s the work of a heterosexual man. The dramatic tension, the explosive release, the way it builds to an almost unbearable climax—this is the musical equivalent of a man who’s been sexually and emotionally repressed his entire life finally finding a way to express what he can’t say out loud.

Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, Sleeping Beauty—these aren’t just ballets, they’re coded messages from a gay man who couldn’t be gay. The tragic heroines, the impossible love stories, the themes of transformation and hidden identity—Tchaikovsky was writing his own story in every goddamn note, and the world was too busy enjoying the pretty music to notice the pain behind it.

The Psychological Massacre of the Closet

The psychological effects of Tchaikovsky’s forced closeting weren’t just personal—they were epidemic. Here was one of the world’s greatest composers, a man whose music would outlive empires, reduced to a trembling, suicidal wreck because he couldn’t love who he wanted to love. The internalized homophobia didn’t just damage him; it robbed the world of the person he could have been if he’d been free to live authentically.

Tchaikovsky’s diaries and letters reveal a man in constant psychological torment. He described his sexuality as a “curse” and spent his life trying to cure himself of feelings that were as natural as breathing. The self-hatred was so profound that it affected every aspect of his existence—his relationships, his work, his health, even his death.

The composer died in 1893, officially of cholera, but the circumstances were suspicious enough that many historians believe he committed suicide. Whether he died by disease or by his own hand, the cause was the same: a society that killed its own children rather than let them love freely.

The Ripple Effect on LGBTQ+ History

Tchaikovsky’s story isn’t just about one tortured genius—it’s about the systematic destruction of queer lives throughout history. Every note he wrote in anguish represents thousands of LGBTQ+ people who were crushed by the same forces that nearly destroyed him. His music became a sanctuary for queer people who recognized their own pain in his melodies, a coded language that said “you are not alone” to generations of closeted individuals.

The philosophical implications are staggering. Here was a man whose gifts to humanity were immeasurable, whose music brought joy to millions, whose artistic legacy is literally priceless—and society nearly destroyed him because of who he loved. How many other Tchaikovskys did we lose? How many symphonies were never written because their composers were too busy trying to survive in a world that wanted them dead?

The Social Impact of Closeted Genius

Tchaikovsky’s forced closeting had massive social implications that ripple through history. His marriage to Antonina became a cautionary tale about the dangers of forced heteronormative performance, but it also demonstrated how society’s homophobia damages everyone involved. Antonina became a victim too, trapped in a marriage with a man who could never love her the way she deserved.

The composer’s patroness, Nadezhda von Meck, provided him with financial support for thirteen years on the condition that they never meet in person. This relationship, conducted entirely through letters, became one of the most important in his life precisely because it was free from the sexual and social expectations that tormented him elsewhere. Von Meck understood, perhaps intuitively, that Tchaikovsky needed space to be himself—even if she never knew exactly what that meant.

The Philosophical Questions That Haunt Us

Tchaikovsky’s life raises philosophical questions that should make every thinking person’s blood boil. What is the moral cost of forcing human beings to deny their fundamental nature? How do we measure the artistic and social contributions we lost when we systemically oppressed LGBTQ+ people? What masterpieces were never created because their potential creators were too busy fighting for survival?

The composer’s struggle with his identity wasn’t just personal—it was a reflection of humanity’s broader failure to accept and celebrate diversity. His music became a form of resistance, a way of smuggling queer sensibility into mainstream culture without triggering the violent backlash that open authenticity would have provoked.

The Legacy That Survives

Despite the psychological torture he endured, Tchaikovsky’s music survives as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. His compositions continue to move audiences to tears, to inspire dancers and musicians, to provide soundtrack for some of humanity’s most beautiful moments. The Swan Lake pas de deux has become synonymous with romantic love, performed by countless couples who have no idea they’re dancing to the work of a closeted gay man.

This is the ultimate irony: the music that emerged from Tchaikovsky’s repression has become the soundtrack for heterosexual romance across the globe. His pain became everyone’s pleasure, his torment became the world’s joy. It’s both beautiful and heartbreaking—a reminder that LGBTQ+ people have always been here, creating beauty even in the darkest circumstances.

The Modern Relevance

Tchaikovsky’s story remains devastatingly relevant because homophobia didn’t die with the 19th century. In Putin’s Russia, being openly gay is still dangerous. In dozens of countries around the world, LGBTQ+ people face imprisonment, violence, or death for being authentic. The composer’s struggle continues in the lives of countless individuals who still can’t live their truth without fear.

But his story also demonstrates the power of art to transcend oppression. Tchaikovsky couldn’t be openly gay, but his music queered the world anyway. Every performance of Swan Lake is a small act of resistance, every rendition of the Nutcracker Suite is a celebration of queer creativity, every tear shed during the Pathétique Symphony is a recognition of the pain caused by forcing people to hide who they are.

The Psychological Impact on Modern LGBTQ+ Communities

For modern LGBTQ+ people, Tchaikovsky’s story serves as both inspiration and warning. His music provides comfort and validation—proof that queer people have always existed, have always created beauty, have always found ways to express their truth even under impossible circumstances. But his psychological torture also serves as a reminder of what happens when society forces people to deny their authentic selves.

The composer’s internalized homophobia mirrors the struggles many LGBTQ+ people face today. The self-hatred, the attempts to “cure” himself, the desperate conformity to heteronormative expectations—these patterns persist in communities where acceptance is still lacking. Tchaikovsky’s story helps modern queer people understand that their struggles are part of a larger historical pattern, that they’re not alone in their pain.

The Fucking Truth We Can’t Ignore

Here’s the bottom line: Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was gay as a fucking rainbow, and society nearly destroyed one of history’s greatest musical geniuses because of it. His story isn’t just about one man’s struggle—it’s about the systematic oppression of LGBTQ+ people throughout history and the incalculable cost of that oppression.

Every time someone tries to deny or diminish Tchaikovsky’s sexuality, they’re participating in the same erasure that tortured him during his lifetime. Every time someone argues that his personal life doesn’t matter, they’re missing the point entirely. His sexuality wasn’t separate from his music—it was the source of his music, the pain that created beauty, the truth that couldn’t be spoken but had to be expressed.

The evidence is there for anyone willing to look: the passionate letters, the disastrous marriage, the psychological torment, the coded themes in his compositions. Tchaikovsky was a gay man living in a world that wanted him dead, and he survived by bleeding music instead of truth. His story deserves to be told honestly, completely, and without the sanitizing bullshit that has obscured it for too long.

We owe it to Tchaikovsky, to his brother Modest, to every LGBTQ+ person who has ever had to hide their truth, to tell this story with the visceral honesty it deserves. Because in the end, the music was never just about entertainment—it was about survival, resistance, and the unbreakable human spirit that creates beauty even in the darkest fucking circumstances.

Tchaikovsky’s legacy isn’t just musical—it’s a testament to the fact that LGBTQ+ people have always been here, creating the culture that defines human civilization, even when that same civilization tried to destroy them. His story is our story, his pain is our pain, and his music is our victory song—a reminder that love, in all its forms, will always find a way to express itself, even when the world tries to silence it.

Citations:

Suchet J. 2019 “Tchaikovsky: The Man Revealed”
Poznansky, K. 2014 “Tchaikovsky: The Quest for the Inner Man “

An Interview With One of My Favorite Legislators

Carol Moseley Braun, first black female senator: ’Sexism is harder to change than racism’

David Smith in Washington

Trailblazing Illinois Democrat reflects on political career and says party is ‘in a daze’ about how to combat Trump

Carol Moseley Braun speaks after Rahm Emanuel wins Chicago’s mayoral race in February 2011. Photograph: Nam Y Huh/AP

“Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton … ”

Carol Moseley Braun was riding a lift in the US Capitol building when she heard Dixie, the unofficial anthem of the slave-owning Confederacy during the civil war. “The sound was not very loud, yet it pierced my ears with the intensity of a dog whistle,” Moseley Braun writes in her new memoir, Trailblazer. “Indeed, that is what it was in a sense.”

The first African American woman in the Senate soon realised that “Dixie” was being sung by Jesse Helms, a Republican senator from North Carolina. He looked over his spectacles at Moseley Braun and grinned. Then he told a fellow senator in the lift: “I’m going to make her cry. I’m going to sing Dixie until she cries.”

But clearly, Moseley Braun notes, the senator had never tangled with a Black woman raised on the south side of Chicago. She told him calmly: “Senator Helms, your singing would make me cry even if you sang Rock of Ages.”

Moseley Braun was the sole African American in the Senate during her tenure between 1993 and 1999, taking on legislative initiatives that included advocating for farmers, civil rights and domestic violence survivors, and went on to run for president and serve as US ambassador to New Zealand.

In a wide-ranging interview with the Guardian from her home in Chicago, she recalls her history-making spell in office, argues that sexism is tougher to crack than racism and warns that the Democratic party is “walking around in a daze” as it struggles to combat Donald Trump.

As for that incident with Helms, she looks back now and says: “I had been accustomed to what we now call microaggressions, so I just thought he was being a jerk.”

Moseley Braun was born in the late 1940s in the post-war baby boom. Her birth certificate listed her as “white” due to her mother’s light complexion and the hospital’s racial segregation, a detail she later officially corrected. She survived domestic abuse from her father, who could be “a loving advocate one minute, and an absolute monster the next”, and has been guided by her religious faith.

In 1966, at the age of 19, she joined a civil rights protest led by Martin Luther King. She recalls by phone: “He was a powerful personality. You felt drawn into him because of who he was. I had no idea he was being made into a modern saint but I was happy to be there and be supportive.

“When it got violent, they put the women and children close to Dr King in concentric circles and so I was close enough to touch him. I had no idea at the time it was going to be an extraordinary point in my life but it really was.”

Moseley Braun was the first in her family to graduate from college and one of few women and Black students in her law school class, where she met her future husband. In the 1970s she won a longshot election to the Illinois general assembly and became the first African American woman to serve as its assistant majority leader.

But when she planned a historic run for the Senate, Moseley Braun met widespread scepticism. “Have you lost all your mind? Why are you doing this? But it made sense to me at the time and I followed my guiding light. You do things that seem like the right thing to do and, if it make sense to you, you go for it.”

Moseley Braun’s campaign team included a young political consultant called David Axelrod, who would go on to be a chief strategist and senior adviser to Obama. She came from behind to win the Democratic primary, rattling the party establishment, then beat Republican Richard Williamson in the general election.

She was the first Black woman elected to the Senate and only the fourth Black senator in history. When Moseley Braun arrived for her first day at work in January 1993, there was a brutal reminder of how far the US still had to travel: a uniformed guard outside the US Capitol told her, “Ma’am, you can’t go any further,” and gestured towards a side-entrance for visitors.

At the time she did not feel that her trailblazing status conferred a special responsibility, however. “I wish I had. I didn’t. I was going to work. I was going to do what I do and then show up to vote on things and be part of the legislative process. I had been a legislator for a decade before in the state legislature so I didn’t at the time see it as being all that different from what I’d been doing before. I was looking forward to it and it turned out to be all that I expected and more.”

Woman looks at television — *Carol Moseley-Braun watches the delayed launch of the space shuttle Discovery in Chicago in October 1998. Photograph: Michael S Green/AP*

But it was not to last. Moseley Braun served only one term before being defeated by Peter Fitzgerald, a young Republican who was heir to a family banking fortune and an arch conservative on issues such as abortion rights. But that did not deter her from running in the Democratic primary election for president in 2004.

“It was terrible,” she recalls. “I couldn’t raise the money to begin with and so I was staying on people’s couches and in airports. It was a hard campaign and the fact it was so physically demanding was a function of the fact that I didn’t have the campaign organisation or the money to do a proper campaign for president.

“I was being derided by any commentator who was like, ‘Look, this girl has lost her mind,’ and so they kind of rolled me off and that made it hard to raise money, hard to get the acceptance in the political class. But I got past that. My ego was not so fragile that that it hurt my feelings to make me stop. I kept plugging away.”

Eventually Moseley Braun dropped out and endorsed Howard Dean four days before the opening contest, the Iowa caucuses. Again, she had been the only Black woman in the field, challenging long-held assumptions of what a commander-in-chief might look like.

“That had been part and parcel of my entire political career. People saying: ‘What are you doing here? Why are you here? Don’t run, you can’t possibly win because you’re not part of the show and the ways won’t open for you because you’re Black and because you’re a woman.’ I ran into that every step of the way in my political career.”

Since then, four Black women have followed in her footsteps to the Senate: Kamala Harris and Laphonza Butler of California, Angela Alsobrooks of Maryland and Lisa Blunt Rochester of Delaware.

Moseley Braun says: “I was happy of that because I was determined not to be the last of the Black women in the Senate. The first but not the last. That was a good thing, and so far the progress has been moving forward. But then we got Donald Trump and that trumped everything.”

Harris left the Senate to become the first woman of colour to serve as vice-president, then stepped in as Democrats’ presidential nominee after Joe Biden abandoned his bid for re-election.

Moseley Braun comments: “I thought she did as good a job as she could have. I supported her as much as I knew how to do and I’m sorry she got treated so badly and she lost like she did. You had a lot of sub rosa discussions of race and gender that she should have been prepared for but she wasn’t.”

Trump exploited the “manosphere” of podcasters and influencers and won 55% of men in 2024, up from 50% of men in 2020, according to Pew Research. Moseley Braun believes that, while the country has made strides on race, including the election of Obama as its first Black president in 2008, it still lags on gender.

“I got into trouble for saying this but it’s true: sexism is a harder thing to change than racism. I had travelled fairly extensively and most of the world is accustomed to brown people being in positions of power. But not here in the United States. We haven’t gotten there yet and so that’s something we’ve got to keep working on.”

Does she expect to see a female president in her lifetime? “I certainly hope so. I told my little grandniece that she could be president if she wanted to. She looked at me like I lost my mind. ‘But Auntie Carol, all the presidents are boys.’”

Still, Trump has not been slow to weaponise race over the past decade, launching his foray into politics with a mix of false conspiracy theories about Obama’s birthplace and promises to build a border wall and drive out criminal illegal immigrants.

Moseley Braun recalls: “It was racial, cultural, ethnic, et cetera, backlash. He made a big deal out of the immigration issue, which was racism itself and people are still being mistreated on that score.

“They’ve been arresting people for no good reason, just because they look Hispanic. The sad thing about it is that they get to pick and choose who they want to mess with and then they do. It’s too destructive of people’s lives in very negative ways.”

Yet her fellow Democrats have still not found an effective way to counter Trump, she argues. “The Democratic party doesn’t know what to do. It’s walking around in a daze. The sad thing about it is that we do need a more focused and more specific response to lawlessness.”

Five years after the police murder of George Floyd and death of Congressman John Lewis, there are fears that many of the gains of the civil rights movement are being reversed.

Over the past six months Trump has issued executive orders that aim to restrict or eliminate diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives. He baselessly blamed DEI for undermining air safety after an army helicopter pilot was involved in a deadly midair collision with a commercial airliner. Meanwhile, Washington DC dismantled Black Lives Matter Plaza in response to pressure from Republicans in Congress.

None of it surprises Moseley Braun. “It should have been expected. He basically ran on a platform of: ‘I’m going to be take it back to the 1800s. Enough of this pandering and coddling of Black people.’”

But she has seen enough to take the long view of history. “This is normal. The pendulum swings both ways. We have to put up with that fact and recognise that this is the normal reaction to the progress we’ve made. There’s bound to be some backsliding.

More than 30 years have passed since Moseley Braun, wearing a peach business suit and clutching her Bible, was sworn into the Senate by the vice-president, Dan Quayle. Despite what can seem like baby steps forward and giant leaps back, she has faith that Americans will resist authoritarianism.

“I’m very optimistic, because people value democracy,” he says. “If they get back to the values undergirding our democracy, we’ll be fine. I hope that people don’t lose heart and don’t get so discouraged with what this guy’s doing.

“If they haven’t gotten there already, the people in the heartland will soon recognise this is a blatant power grab that’s all about him and making a fortune for himself and his family and has nothing to do with the common good. That’s what public life is supposed to be about. It’s public service.”

Priorities

(This is here in part because clicking through to read on Substack for free is good for her numbers, and she deserves all the numbers. -A)

My Thoughts on the ‘Gen Z Stare’ by Charlotte Clymer

And I do have thoughts. Read on Substack

Legacy media is very concerned with the ‘Gen Z Stare’

In the past week, there’s been robust discourse in legacy media about the so-called ‘Gen Z Stare’ and the bursts of generational conflict it reportedly captures.

It’s gotten write-ups by The New York Times, The Washington Post, USA Today, The Boston Globe, NBC News, ABC News, CNBC, Newsweek, Indy100, Axios, Fortune, Vox, Vice, Business Insider, The Independent, Forbes, Buzzfeed, Slate, HuffPost, Glamour, People, and Marie Claire, among others.

As a millennial, I am apparently urged to be concerned about this phenomenon of Gen Z folks supposedly failing to appropriately interact with me through sufficiently pleasant facial expressions, so I thought it might be helpful to offer my thoughts:

The sitting president of the United States is currently covering up a massive sex trafficking operation that targeted children and likely implicates a number of powerful people who are currently out in the world and free to continue preying on children.

The sitting president of the United States just successfully pressured Paramount and CBS to cancel the #1 late-night talk show on broadcast television as part of what appears to be a blatant bribery deal because the host has been critical of him.

The sitting president of the United States just got the extremist Republican majority in Congress to strip 11 million Americans of health care coverage by the end of 2026 and upwards of 17 million Americans when you account for new federal work requirements. (snip-MORE; it’s succinct and quick, and it’s all good facts for grocery/other places lines, for discussion.)

Peace & Justice History for 7/21

https://www.gocomics.com/lards-world-peace-tips/2025/07/20

https://www.peacebuttons.info/E-News/peacehistoryjuly.htm#july21

“A Persistent Lightness To His Spirit”

The Gay Minister Who Inspired Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’

By Jim McDermott

If asked to pick one Lady Gaga song to encapsulate who she is and what she stands for, you’d be hard pressed to come up with a better choice than “Born This Way.” Released in 2011, the song is a vibrant, full-body dance anthem that calls on listeners to celebrate who they are. “God makes no mistakes,” she sings in the refrain. “I’m on the right track, baby / I was born this way.” The song was immediately embraced upon release, particularly by the LGBTQ+ community.

As it turns out, this wasn’t the first time a song by that name made that kind of impact. In 1977, Motown Records released the disco anthem “I Was Born This Way,” an upbeat tune featuring a largely unknown Black gospel singer who responds to critics with a refrain that was a head-turner for its time: “I’m happy. I’m carefree. And I’m gay. I was born this way.”

READ: You Don’t Have To Understand Everything About Trans People To Love Us

In 2021, Gaga directed people’s attention to that song, saying it was the inspiration for her own hit. And in the new documentary I Was Born This Way, which premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in June, directors Daniel Junge and Sam Pollard shine a light on its creation and its singer, Carl Bean, an extraordinary individual who spent his life serving his LGBTQ+ community.

Junge and Pollard’s film starts with the story of Bean’s childhood in Baltimore. And many of the main moments are unforgiving: His mother abandons him at birth because she doesn’t feel ready to have a child; his uncle sexually assaults him for years; Bean attempts to kill himself as a teenager after his previously loving adoptive father hits him for being gay.

Bean, who died in 2021 at age 77, faced hardships in his life, many of which the film explores. But none of the horrors of Bean’s life land with the kind of bleakness one might expect. It’s not that the documentarians pull their punches, either. It’s Bean — there’s a persistent lightness to his spirit, the quiet joyfulness of someone who by some miracle is able to see a broader perspective. Those qualities so suffuse the story of his life that no darkness can overcome them.

And that faith sustained him when he moved first to New York City, where he would sing with Harlem’s Christian Tabernacle Choir, and then when he moved to Los Angeles and started writing his own songs. In New York, he worked at Macy’s and became lifelong friends with Cissy Houston, Estelle Brown, and Dionne Warwick; in Los Angeles, he signed a record deal but then discovered they only saw him as a gospel singer. And then, out of nowhere, Motown Records reached out.

The song “I Was Born This Way” has its own interesting history, which Junge and Pollard track. It was originally written years earlier by Bunny Jones, a New York City beautician who was friends with Stevie Wonder and later became a promoter. She wrote the song for one of her acts, a gay performer. But it wasn’t until two years later, when Motown reworked the song for disco and gave it to Bean to sing (with his friend Estelle Brown on backup), that it took off.

“There was such a feeling of freedom and relief and release when you danced to that song,” Minority AIDS Project program director Mike Jones says in the documentary. “All of the things we were trying to say throughout our lives to many of our friends and family that we could not say were in that song.”

While the collapse of disco would see the song fade from people’s memories, the film reveals the ways it continued to quietly live on. Musician and record producer Questlove talks about how often it has been sampled in other work over the decades. Among other places, you can hear it on Debbie Gibson’s “One Step Ahead,” Deee-Lite’s “Good Beat (Turn Up the Radio Mix),” and Rick Wade’s “Free.” The song, he says, “is the music equivalent of the Giving Tree.”

Meanwhile, Bean faced an unexpected fork in the road. Motown offered him the chance to do another big song. But “I Was Born This Way” had changed his perspective on the meaning and purpose of his life. “I had found my niche,” he said. “I knew my gig was to be a change agent in our society.”

And the film recounts how that choice led him down a path he could not have expected. Seeing how little was being offered to people of color when the AIDS pandemic erupted in the early ’80s, Bean started making visits on his own, traveling from person to person he learned about on Los Angeles city buses. Eventually he founded the Minority AIDS Foundation, which provided a hotline for information and to arrange visits.

When he learned from social workers that he would gain greater access to those who were sick if he became clergy, he also got ordained. Unexpectedly, some of those he visited asked for an Easter service. He provided it, not realizing it would be such a positive experience that they would aske him to lead to more services. Eventually, he started his own church, Unity Fellowship, an African American Christian community specifically for LGBTQ+ people.

Bean’s decades of generosity would eventually cost him. In his later years, he found himself unable to move his lower body. “All of those years of racism, of homophobia, all of that death and dying, it had an effect on my mind, my spirit, my being,” he said. “My body shut down.” The revelation is stunning — there’s been no sign over the course of the film that he has been suffering or overwhelmed with grief.

It’s a telling reminder of the sacrifices and generosity of so many queer people like Bean, whose stories are not well known. It’s also a testament to their irrepressible joy: At the end of the film, asked whether he has any last words for the camera, Bean offers a simple thought that pours directly out of the work of his life, including his famous song. “Find the place in you that allows you to love yourself and others,” he says. “It begins with love and ends with love.”

Then, as the film crew starts to pack up, he starts laughing warmly. There’s no reason. He just has so much to give.

1st Black Power Conference, & The 1st Labor Contract In History Of U.S. Government, In Peace & Justice History for 7/20

https://www.peacebuttons.info/E-News/peacehistoryjuly.htm#july20

Frederick Douglass Does Some Great Work at Seneca Falls, Dockum Drug Store Sit-Ins, & More, in Peace & Justice History for 7/19

https://www.peacebuttons.info/E-News/peacehistoryjuly.htm#july19

Open Windows, Clay Jones

Happy Birthday, Pedo by Clay Jones

Donald Trump’s birthday card to Jeffrey Epstein Read on Substack

The Wall Street Journal is reporting that Donald Trump wrote a “racy” birthday letter to Jeffrey Epstein way back in 2003. I’m shocked too. Who knew he could write?

This letter is part of the Epstein Files from the investigation by the Department of Justice. One of the MAGA talking points is that if there were anything in those files with Trump’s name on it, then the Biden administration would have released it to help the Democrats with the 2024 election. Take note that the Biden administration did NOT release it.

The question, “Why didn’t Biden release it?” is based on the presumption that Joe Biden is as corrupt as Donald Trump and would politicize the DOJ. Despite the MAGA narrative, Biden never politicized or weaponized the DOJ.

And there is something to this, because Trump is upset, and threatening to sue the WSJ, its owner, News Corp, and Rupert Murdoch. WSJ reported that the letter was part of a book of messages organized by Ghislaine Maxwell for Epstein’s 50th birthday. Maxwell was convicted 16 years later in 2019 for aiding Epstein’s sexual abuse of minors.

The letter, signed by Trump, wishes Epstein a happy birthday and tells him, “may every day be another wonderful secret.” The letter featured lines of typewritten text framed by a drawing of a naked woman, with Trump’s name signed below the woman’s waist.

Hmmmm. Whatever could that secret be, and has anyone checked the age of the woman in the naked drawing?

Trump issued a denial, saying, “I never wrote a picture in my life. I don’t draw pictures of women. It’s not my language. It’s not my words.” It’s true, you don’t write a picture. Unfortunately for Trump, the letter was written in crayon. (snip-MORE. Also, the card was written in 2003, when POTUS had a few more words in his vocab.)

Killing satire by Ann Telnaes

CBS cancels The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, claiming it was “purely a financial decision” Read on Substack

The timing of the cancellation is suspect since Colbert publicly criticized the network’s parent company, Paramount, just a few days ago for settling a $16 million lawsuit with Trump while also looking to get approval from the FCC for a merger worth $8.4 billion. As Colbert described during his monologue, a “big, fat bribe”.

Paramount is just another media company looking to keep on Trump’s good side in order to benefit their bottom line. As any other autocrat, Trump has a very thin skin and doesn’t like getting ridiculed so expect more of this. Not a good sign for satirists or editorial cartoonists…or free speech in general.

A few months ago I was interviewed by Jeffrey Brown of the PBS Newshour and talked about how important it is for a democracy to protect the rights of editorial cartoonists and satirists (at end of the segment). (snip)

Margolis & Cox, Take Two by Clay Jones

A long song for MargoCox Read on Substack

Ya’ll already knew I was a stinker. This cartoon is from December 2023, on the death of Norman Lear. I’m repurposing it with a few changes for Margolis & Cox, the racist cartooning duo I had a little spat with a couple of days ago, which I wrote about.

I sent this to my clients, but it’s not a regular syndication cartoon. They will get another cartoon today.

Nothing new with those racists, I just want to ask them a question. Cox is the artist and Margolis is the writer, right? So why does Cox need Margolis if he’s only going to write tropes that have already been done a million times? Look at this cartoon and remember, they said I can’t draw. Again, it doesn’t matter how well you draw (and they don’t draw well) if your ideas are shit.

Creative note: I had a few qualms about doing this, not about pissing off Margolis, Cox, or Cagle. I couldn’t care less about what mood this puts them in. I was concerned about repurposing an old cartoon. I’m no Dave Granlund. I don’t care about his mood either. But I decided this is special, and what better way to call them out than with a cartoon?

I have discovered over the years that many people who criticize others for a living can’t take criticism, especially if they’re MAGAts.

Music note: I listened to Verbena.

Drawn in 30 seconds: (snip-go see it-)