Jersey City's Mayor on How the City Built So Much Housing
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To some extent, at least in big cities, it feels as though the cost of housing is enveloping almost everything else in terms of politics right now. Booming areas that drive GDP have gotten incredibly expensive in large part thanks to rent, and even the well paid residents are forced to turn over a significant share of their income over to their landlord. So can anything be done about it? Can rent come down by liberalizing supply and making it easier to build? And can that scale? And what about developers that only want to build luxury-rate housing? On this episode of the podcast, we speak to Steven Fulop, the mayor of Jersey City, which sits directly across the river from NYC. Fulop is a candidate for the Democratic Party's nomination for governor and he says his time in office in Jersey City proves cities can turn the dial on housing supply. We talk about why Jersey City has added so much to its housing stock, what can be attributed to his policies, and what he thinks can be accomplished at the state level both in terms of housing and improving public infrastructure.
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Yahoo
32 minutes ago
- Yahoo
After bizarre burqa stunt, Morris County mayor says no more public meetings
Fed up after yet another Dover council meeting was disrupted by activists on May 27, Mayor James Dodd declared that he will bar the public from future meetings and instead present them only online. "We're gonna go virtual," Dodd said. The council later passed a resolution, drafted during the meeting, that said that "due to emergent circumstances ... future public meetings shall be held virtually until changed by the Town Council." The resolution passed 8-1, with council member Sandra Wittner casting the lone "no" vote and questioning the legality of the hastily authorized move. "To say that this is a safety risk is insulting to the hundreds of people who died in Dover" during COVID, said Wittner, who frequently clashes with the mayor. Town council meetings last went online during the pandemic lockdown, which, by contrast, was a "very real safety risk," she said. Dodd took his action after a bizarre confrontation during the meeting's public comment session, at which the council was addressed by a person dressed in a blue burqa covering their entire face and body. The speaker, claiming to be a Muslim woman, began to talk in an affected, falsetto voice. The encounter ground the meeting to a halt for about 40 minutes. Dodd identified the "woman" as Edward "Lefty" Grimes, a Bayonne resident and disability activist who has been a frequent critic of the mayor and council at recent meetings. Dressed in the burqa, Grimes appeared in a motorized wheelchair. Grimes has said he needs the chair after allegedly being injured by Dover police who were directed to remove him from a January meeting for using profanity. Officials advised Grimes there was a town policy against meeting attendees wearing full-face coverings. But Grimes continued his complaints about a smoking ordinance he felt would violate his rights as a medical cannabis user. He refused to unveil his face, citing "religious reasons." The meeting was adjourned and Grimes was approached by Dover police. They tried to escort the activist from council chambers before Grimes was finally called out by an angry Dodd. "There's a law against impersonating a religious belief, and that's exactly what you're doing, Ed Grimes!' Dodd shouted. "Your Jeep is outside. I took a picture of your license plate. I will now press charges against you." After Grimes finally left, Dodd resumed the proceedings and added the resolution to suspend in-person meetings to the agenda. Contacted on Friday, Grimes did not deny he was at the meeting, but added, "I'm not admitting to anything." He insisted the speaker wearing the burqa was a Muslim woman named Elram Pador. He said he witnessed the confrontation on a YouTube stream posted by Maria Chacon. The Dover resident has been streaming meetings since the town suspended the practice last year, citing the need for a new video system and a lack of money to pay for it. "We all know Dodd would not allow someone in a burqa to speak," Grimes said. "Elram proved it and exposed his Islamophobia, exposed his racism, exposed his ego, because all he had to do was let that woman speak for three minutes. But his ego would not allow it, and now he's got a [expletive] show on his hands. He's got issues now.' A burqa-clad "Elram Pador" has also spoken at public meetings in other New Jersey towns in recent months, including an appearance — without a wheelchair — in Edison on April 30. Grimes and other online activists have frequented Dover meetings over the past six months, typically taking aim at Dodd and Councilman Sergio Rodriguez, who retains the mayor's support despite facing multiple assault charges. One critic wore a football helmet to a meeting, claiming he expected to be attacked. "I'm not in a position to sit here and be ridiculed and humiliated," Dodd said at the May 27 meeting. "It's insanity. This has been going on for some time. Who knows if that guy has a shotgun under what he was wearing? And when somebody comes here and mocks a religious belief, and thinks it's OK, that's not acceptable. "These people are crazy," he continued. "I won't be part of that anymore and I don't think this town should be subject to that anymore, either." Wittner said Dodd directed town Attorney Ramon Rivera to draft the resolution while the session was adjourned to remove Grimes. Rivera cited provisions in the New Jersey Open Public Meetings Act, also known as the Sunshine Law, that would permit the suspension of in-person meetings due to security reasons and "emergent circumstances," as the resolution reads. The resolution said that council meetings "have been interrupted by unprecedented members of the public who violate the town's public-comment policies." Challenged by Wittner on the legality of the move, and questioned about the nature of the "emergent circumstances," Rivera said, "In my opinion, based on what I saw tonight, there is a safety concern." More: In tense meeting, Dover council backs, then opposes, limits on immigration raids "The town is prohibited from conducting business" due to the interruptions, he added. Rivera noted in the resolution that "many entities conduct their meetings virtually in compliance with the OPMA," although he did not specify whether any governing bodies were currently doing so. Virtual meetings were common during the COVID lockdown but most local governing bodies switched back to in-person proceedings years ago. Rivera did not return a call seeking follow-up information. At the meeting, Dodd said he did not expect the move to be permanent. It would last only until the council felt it could safely resume public gatherings, he said. He added the town would come up with a plan to stream meetings within 30 days. Dover suspended online streaming of meetings last year, saying the town needed a new camera system and did not have the estimated $80,000 it would cost. Dodd said at the January reorganization meeting that he hoped to find money in this year's budget to resume the streaming. The streamed meetings will allow for public participation in that format, the mayor said at the latest meeting. "I don't expect this to be forever," Dodd explained. "But we need to conduct business, and we will." Chacon can be heard in her streaming video confronting the mayor. "It's unbelievable to me that we haven't had any livestreaming," she commented. She blamed Dodd for "elevating" the "chaos" at the meeting. "And then to come back and punish the public, the taxpayers who have a right to be here, it's appalling," she said. "To punish us for one person who got under the mayor's skin." State Sen. Anthony Bucco, who represents Dover in Trenton, speculated in an interview that Dover may be vulnerable to a court challenge. Bucco, a Republican representing the 25th District, is a municipal attorney by profession. "It's definitely an unusual step, outside of something like COVID," Bucco said. "Even before COVID, there were instances where towns held remote meetings, but they never closed the meeting room off." "So it will be interesting, he continued. "I would guess it would probably be challenged, and I don't know how a judge would rule." But Bucco, the Senate minority leader, also shared his concerns about what he sees as a troubling increase across the state of deliberate interruptions at meetings by members of the public. "It's a shame," Bucco said. "It seems lately, people have become more and more disrespectful at council meetings. People who come to meetings and say things that aren't accurate, or hide their identity, it's just not right for good government. And once one person becomes disrespectful, it starts to spread, and then a governing body cannot conduct business properly." On May 30, Dodd released a statement about the meeting and the decision to "go virtual." "Over the past several weeks, our meetings have been marred by behavior that has no place in public service," the mayor wrote. "We have witnessed individuals wearing full facial coverings, altering their voices, and delivering crude, vulgar remarks including sexually explicit references and disturbing comments. These actions have turned our council chambers into a spectacle that undermines the dignity of public discourse." "This decision wasn't made lightly," he continued. "But we cannot allow a small group to hijack the democratic process and create a toxic atmosphere that discourages community participation. We are committed to transparency, accountability, and — above all — civility in government." This article originally appeared on Morristown Daily Record: Dover NJ cancels public meetings after bizarre burqa stunt
Yahoo
34 minutes ago
- Yahoo
A few votes can swing a ward race. Morris County has a few wild ones in 2025
Local elections, particularly in election years not involving presidential or midterm congressional races, are often decided by a handful of votes cast among low voter turnouts. In towns where council or committee elections are split into separate geographic wards, the voter margins are often razor-thin, with as few as two or three votes sometimes making the difference. That should come as an added incentive for ward residents in towns such as Dover and Rockaway Township to make their vote count. This year, both of those towns feature some of the most contentious campaigns in Morris County. In Dover, two well-known town leaders are challenging incumbent council candidates backed by Mayor James Dodd in separate ward races in the Democratic primary on Tuesday, June 10. The winners will be heavily favored in the majority Democratic town to win office in November. In 2023, the last non-presidential election year, only 1,978 votes were cast in the Dover Democratic primary's four ward races, or about 495 votes per ward. The average margin of victory was about 65 votes. This year, the two most notable and noisy campaigns have been seen and heard in wards 1 and 2. The Ward 1 race pits first-term incumbent Claudia Toro against former Dover Board of Education President Daniella Mendez. Toro, who owns a family tax service in Dover, touts her achievements as a successful female Hispanic business owner and public servant. She's been a Dover resident since immigrating from Colombia in 2004. Mendez made headlines in 2023 as the first trans woman in the state to be elected as a public school board president. After completing two terms leading the board, she stepped down last year to focus on her council campaign, which she launched in December. Raised in Paterson, she's been a Dover resident for 10 years. The race has featured heated rhetoric from both sides, particularly from the Toro campaign and its supporters, which has produced literature, social media and video alleging improprieties in Mendez's personal life. Speaking to the Daily Record a week before the primary, Mendez said she wanted to focus beyond "the smear campaign" of her opponents and stick to the issues. She said the work she does as a director of community engagement for the nonprofit Edge NJ in Parsippany gives her insight into the mental health and other needs of vulnerable, low-income people often found in Dover. Mendez said she is proud of her accomplishments but looks forward to the day when "the fact that I was the first is not a big deal." Her motivation to run for council starts with "I love Dover." "Dover is my adopted hometown," she said. "Serving in an elected office, I feel, is my way of giving back to a town that has given me so much in this chapter of my life. And quite frankly, I think that we have work to do in Dover, and I think that we can do better than we are doing, and I think that I am the right person to contribute to the team that moves us forward." Toro also loves her adopted hometown and launched her professional career after beginning studies for business administration at the former Dover Business College. She opened Toro Taxes on Blackwell Street in 2018. Her campaign lists accomplishments, including launching a senior care program and supporting a community and immigration programs initiative. Toro acknowledges it's been a turbulent first term while supporting the mayor as he has taken controversial steps in his return to office, including a recent decision to hold council meetings virtually without public attendance, seeking to sidestep out-of-town activists who have disrupted meetings in recent months. Mendez and others have accused her of being "simply a puppet" for Dodd. But Toro says she is up to taking some criticism in exchange for the chance to serve the community. "I am a strong woman," she said. "Politics can be intimidating, for women more than men. But I am strong. And I am prepared for this." Dover's Democratic primary in Ward 2 features a rematch between first-term incumbent Sergio Rodriguez against Judith Rugg, whom he unseated in the 2023 primary by 114 votes. Rodriguez's first term is well-documented as he accumulated multiple assault charges resulting from confrontations with men downtown whom he accused of drinking alcohol in downtown public spaces. His next court date to answer those charges is scheduled for June 16. The resulting controversy has generated frequent public calls for Rodriguez to resign, but with Dodd's support, he's eager to tackle a second term. The biggest misconception about his actions and methods, Rodriguez said in a Daily Record interview, is that he is "extremely, sometimes to a fault, transparent." "That comes out in various ways," said Rodriguez, 30, who owns a small business consulting and social media service. "And one of the ways that comes out is through my social media. And so where some people see that as an effort to try to make myself this hotshot politician that cares about his public image and only that, that's the misconception that can sometimes be made if you don't know me. But if anybody has followed me before my political career, they knew I was very vocal on social media. That's where my push comes from, from trying to give out as much information as possible." He brought up the issue of public drinking as an example, saying one of his first-term accomplishments was "shining a huge spotlight on that, to the point where it made everyone else act. It made our law enforcement act. It made our community leaders act. It made our elected officials act." Rugg, a career nurse who came into office with former Mayor Carolyn Blackman in 2019, lost her seat in 2023 as Dodd's "Rescue Dover" ticket, including Rodriguez, swept into office. Pleas from her Ward 2 neighbors to run again, she said, pushed her back into the race. "I believe in the truth," she said. "We don't know how this will turn out, but he was not being challenged on the ballot, and I thought that was wrong." Her top priority back in office would be healthcare. "We need a health department that can meet the needs of our elderly residents, of our uninsured residents, and of our newly arrived residents," she said. "As a nurse, I know how important this is. I served on the council during COVID and witnessed firsthand how devastating the pandemic was for Dover." Other priorities for Rugg would be addressing the need for affordable housing and improving communication between Town Hall and the residents. Another contentious ward rematch is unfolding among Republicans in Ward 6 of Rockaway Township, where incumbent Rachel Brookes is once again facing Tucker Kelley, whom she unseated from the council in 2021 by 96 votes. Brookes is running for re-election with a list of accomplishments and leaning into Kelley's reputation as a controversial figure around town, known for filing frequent OPRA requests and filing lawsuits to uncover what he has seen over the years as corruption and fiscal mismanagement by the governing body. A mother of four boys, marketing director for Crunch Fitness and a former board of education member, Brookes, 43, is seeking a second term. Her campaign literature touts first-term accomplishments, including increased hiring, funding and resources for first responders, ensuring the safety of recreational fields and "open communication and strong collaboration with residents, local groups, schools, and township departments." Kelley, 55, is a lifelong Rockaway Township resident who lives with his wife and daughter in the Lake Telemark section. A real estate entrepreneur, emission-control expert and construction-excavation business owner, he also owns and rents multiple commercial and residential properties throughout town. "I have a background in contract negotiations, municipal budgets as well as a large skill set in multiple trades and property management," he said. Brookes said she resigned from the school board to run for council against Kelley because she was "disheartened" by his behavior on the council. "We became an embarrassment," she told the Daily Record. "I had to make a choice, I felt no one else would do it, and decided to run for that seat." Even out of office, she said, he continues to harass township employees and file costly lawsuits against the town. "He's not a collaborative communicator," she continued. "He doesn't work well with others." Kelley doesn't apologize for his methods in a town he feels burdens residents with tactics that obstruct transparency and fiscal responsibility, stating, "I'm not afraid to stand up." "I am somebody who doesn't welcome the status quo," he said. "It's so costly, it's not effective. It's only helping the few rather than the many." Kelley also disputed Brooke's leadership in the accomplishments she is taking credit for in her campaign, adding she voted to raise council's and the mayor's salaries, while he donated his salary while in office to the Rockaway Township Volunteer Fire Company. Should he win, Kelley says his priorities would include lowering taxes for the next budget cycle, addressing necessary infrastructure upgrades, creating an economic committee to prepare for fiscal issues and increasing the morale of police officers and municipal employees. Both claim a record of fiscal stewardship and holding down tax increases. Kelley calculates he reduced the town's tax burden by $1.5 million through wasteful spending cuts during his term. The two are also at odds over social issues, with Kelley accusing Brookes of supporting a "woke" agenda during her time on the school board. "It's time to stop using our children as pawns in political games," he said. "I strongly oppose the radical woke agendas Rachael supported, such as transgender Policy 5756 (the state's "transgender student guidance" for districts), men participating in female sports and removing Columbus Day from our township calendars." "One of the biggest things is he likes to go on and on about woke agendas," Brookes said. "To me, that's just nonsense. It's just using hot words to be divisive, to divide the community, to not really talk about the needs of our evolving community." "We've increased our first responders," Brookes said. "We have added positions to our police department to hire officers to combat overtime and fatigue of our officers. We've really done a lot of work with the community." Kelley says the biggest misconception among his critics is his overlooking his passion for Rockaway Township and "community." "When I see my tax dollars wrongfully being misplaced to projects that benefit a very few amount of people, including some of our elected officials and their family, rather than the many, it makes me look into areas or topics and try to find a better way of directing our monies to serve the many," he said. Polls on primary day will be open from 6 a.m. to 8 p.m. The early-voting period began June 3 and runs through June 8. May 20 was the deadline to register for the primary. Applications for mail-in ballots must be received by 3 p.m. on June 9. Mail-in ballots must be received by the Post Office by June 10. County clerks must certify election results by June 23. The 2025 general election takes place on Tuesday, Nov. 4. The voter registration deadline is Oct. 14. This article originally appeared on Morristown Daily Record: Morris County NJ has few wild ward races in June 10 primary
CNN
34 minutes ago
- CNN
As World Pride celebrates steps from the White House, LGBTQ pioneers call for a return to the movement's roots in protest
LGBTQ issues Human rights ActivismFacebookTweetLink Follow At 83, Paul Kuntzler, a pioneering LGBTQ rights activist, vividly recalls joining a picket line outside the White House that would change the course of American history. 'I was just 20 and was the only minor in a tiny gay rights movement consisting of about 150 people in five American cities,' Kuntzler recalled to CNN. At the time, five decades ago, publicly declaring oneself to be gay could cost someone their job, their family, and even their home. But Kuntzler said he felt proud of who he was. 'I've always had a very positive idea about being gay, so I try to radiate that attitude towards other people,' he said. He overcame his fear and joined the picket line. In doing so, he would become one the first Americans to bring the fight for gay rights to the steps of the White House. 'Of those 10 people who participated that day, I'm the only person who's still living,' Kuntzler said. Decades later – and mere steps from the White House – Washington, DC, is set to mark the 50th anniversary of Pride celebrations in the nation's capital this weekend by hosting World Pride 2025. The global celebration honors the LGBTQ community and their ongoing fight for equality in the United States and around the world. But the parades and parties that have come to define Pride will take place in the shadow of a presidential administration that has been openly hostile to the civil rights of LGBTQ Americans. From the administration's staunch anti-diversity stance and the military's push to oust transgender servicemembers, to a looming US Supreme Court ruling that could upend health care for millions of LGBTQ Americans, the second Trump administration has ushered in a period of uncertainty and fear. But pioneers in the fight for gay rights tell CNN the success of the gay rights movement in the United States is built on the shoulders of average men and women who had little power to fight back against the might of the US government, but who somehow found the courage – and the pride – to do so anyway. When Candy Holmes first met then-President Barack Obama in 2009, she wanted more than just a photo op. As a lesbian and a longtime federal employee, Holmes had been invited to the White House, she recalled, to witness the president issue a directive for federal agencies to extend benefits to same-sex couples. The move was a step toward expanding rights for LGBTQ Americans. But as Holmes shook the president's hand, she was determined not to waste the moment. 'We need more than just benefits,' she told Obama, noting his directive only applied to federal employees. 'There's a whole community that needs benefits – we need full citizenship.' The president considered her comment, she recalled, then issued a challenge. 'OK, I hear that,' she remembers him saying. 'Take this message back to the LGBTQ community – tell them to make me do it.' Holmes vowed to do just that. As Black, gay women, Holmes and her wife, Darlene Garner, said they live each day with the knowledge of all their ancestors endured – and how hard they had to fight – to secure their civil rights. Progress in this country is not linear, Garner said. So instead of being paralyzed by that knowledge, Garner encouraged others to channel it into action. 'This is not the time to be passive, or silent, or hide away,' she said. 'Change will not happen unless people demand justice for all.' The couple were among the first to get married in the nation's capital when DC legalized same-sex marriage in 2010. It was a fitting, full-circle moment for Garner, who co-founded the National Coalition of Black Lesbians and Gays in 1971 to force the burgeoning movement to fight for the equality of all LGBTQ people, including people of color. 'When you're in your 20s, you have a lot of energy, a lot of passion, a lot of vision of how the world should be,' Garner said of the organization's founding. 'We knew disappointment, but we did not know failure.' Garner went on to become a global leader in the Metropolitan Community Church, where she served as a reverend and an elder for decades. Holmes also took on a leadership position in the church, in addition to her job in the government, but they both never forgot their roots and passion for activism. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. famously said, 'The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.' But King knew, Holmes and Garner both agreed, that the arc 'doesn't bend on its own.' 'We have to continue to apply pressure to help it bend,' Holmes said. 'There are many paths to justice,' Garner added. 'It doesn't really matter what path you're walking on, but you gotta get on the road.' Not too long ago, Cleve Jones said he was grabbing drinks with friends at a gay bar in San Francisco when the conversation turned toward a tragic part of their shared history: the HIV/AIDS pandemic. They tried to estimate the number of friends, neighbors and loved ones they'd lost – in San Francisco alone – as the virus tore through the gay community during the decade before treatment became available. 'We were talking about the horror days,' Jones said, 'and we came up with a figure of somewhere around (20,000) to 25,000 people.' They weren't far off the mark. One study estimates nearly half of the gay men in the city had been diagnosed with AIDS by 1995. At the bar that night, a younger man who was seated nearby overheard the conversation and cut in. 'He said, 'You know, I know you old folks had a rough time of it, but really, you don't need to exaggerate,'' Jones recalled. The remark left him stunned – and angry. Jones, who himself is HIV-positive and is the founder of the AIDS Memorial Quilt, a community art project, has dedicated his life to memorializing those who died from AIDS during a pandemic that the government seemed all too eager to ignore, he said. In 1987, during the National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights, Jones displayed the memorial quilt on the National Mall for the first time, with each panel dedicated to someone who died from the disease. In the decade before HIV treatment became widely available, the quilt returned to the mall nearly every year, forcing the country to reckon with the sheer number of lives lost to AIDS. 'I don't think the younger generation in my community really quite understands their history,' Jones said. 'They've never watched someone die of AIDS … They don't have that visceral, deep understanding that comes when you witness it.' If they did, Jones said, they would be just as outraged as he is by recent moves from the Trump administration to slash funding for HIV/AIDS research and services both at home and abroad – and moved to action. Jones, who remains a lifelong activist and advocate for gay rights, said 'misinformation and mythic legends' have been built up around leaders and locations that became central to LGBTQ history in the US. But distilling their lives down to bullet points does them a disservice, Jones said, because it obscures the fact that gay rights pioneers like Harvey Milk were also just regular people who were bold enough to take a stand. 'Harvey was this kind of odd guy, you know, this skinny, gay, Jewish guy from New York,' Jones recalled of the man who became his mentor and friend. 'I would go with him on campaign stops and he could talk to anybody. I would watch the way he changed his tone and his vocabulary and focused on finding common ground.' Milk, Jones said, forced people to discover their shared humanity, and in doing so, he was able to make change. Milk was assassinated in 1978. Jones said he's tried to infuse Milk's values into his lifelong career of activism. But lately, he said, his work has been guided by the mantra, 'If you take it for granted, they will take it away.' 'If you're going to change the world, it starts with the hearts and minds of individuals,' he said. But, he added, people don't need permission or a permit to challenge prejudice. 'You've got a permit. It's called the Constitution.' Kuntzler joined a group called Mattachine Society at the height of the 'Lavender Scare' – a period of intense, government-led, anti-gay discrimination that grew out of the witch hunt for 'communists' during the McCarthy era. In 1953, President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed an executive order that banned homosexuals from working for the federal government and the military. Those who were outed would not only lose their jobs, but their names were often published in newspapers, which could cost them their families and their livelihoods. 'It was not unusual to come home from work and find two members of Naval Intelligence on your doorstep asking you to come down to the Navy Yard for questioning,' Kuntzler recalled. His longtime partner, Stephen Brent Miller, was once interrogated for information about one of their friends, he said. The Mattachine Society was initially founded in secret in 1950 to fight for the rights of 'homophiles,' but it would go on to become one of the earliest and more consequential gay rights groups in the nation. By the time Kuntzler joined its Washington, DC, chapter in 1962, the organization was gearing up to take a more visible stand against the government's treatment of gays. Frank Kameny, the society's co-founder, organized the first picket line for gay rights in front of the White House. 'When I got there, I looked across the street to see that there were like 30 news photographers waiting for the light to change,' Kuntzler recalled. 'I was so unnerved by that, I kept hiding my face behind my picket.' Inspired by the fight for civil rights, Kuntzler said the group continued to protest throughout the year in front of the Pentagon and Independence Hall in Philadelphia. They later filed several lawsuits challenging the government's blatant discrimination against homosexual federal employees. Kuntzler would go on to play a quiet but critical role in key moments of the gay rights movement for decades to come. Kameny, who was fired from his job in the US Army because he was gay, campaigned to become the first openly gay member of Congress. Kuntzler was his campaign manager. Kuntzler also co-founded what became the Gay and Lesbian Activists Alliance and was the founding member of the Human Rights Campaign. But by far his greatest achievement, Kuntzler said, was loving his partner, Stephen, openly for more than 40 years before he died. Despite the looming threats from the Trump administration, Kuntzler said he remains optimistic. 'I've seen all this,' he said of the attacks by the government. 'We couldn't conceive back in the '60s that we'd make so much progress – that we'd be able to work in government, there would be elected officials who were openly gay, and we couldn't conceive of the idea of marriage equality.' They couldn't imagine it, he said, but they fought for it anyway.
