S.F. Pride is struggling. Here's why Oaklash is thriving
The nonprofit arts organization, which produces large-scale drag events year-round, is back with its signature Oaklash drag festival, from Friday-Sunday, May 16-18, and the lineup is stacked. The three-day queer celebration in Oakland will begin with the ApocaLipstick kickoff party at the downtown Oakland White Horse Inn, dubbed 'a party fit for the end of the world,' and book ended by Oaklash Kick Back, featuring workshops like queer calisenics and 'twerklates' (think pilates with twerking dance moves) and various performances.
The centerpiece, its Saturday Block Party in old Oakland, boasts 60 performers and seven DJs over four blocks and two stages. They've even booked international drag performer Yvie Oddly, the winner of Season 11 of 'RuPaul's Drag Race,' as the headliner.
But in spite of that marquee name, leaders said they're weathering the difficult climate for queer organizations because they've been focused on the Bay Area LGBTQ community. The organization has also been careful not to depend too much on any one type of funding and has made sure not to grow beyond its means.
'It's proof that something that we thought was sustainable — relying on corporations for our communities — is not a long-term solution,' said Mama Celeste, cofounder and executive director of Oaklash, referring to funding cuts organizations like San Francisco Pride have faced so far in 2025.
Much of Oaklash's funding this year comes from individual donors and fundraising events, tactics that rely on community connections and goodwill rather than the whims of politics. This move by the now 8-year-old festival prepared them to navigate the current anti-Diversity, Equity and Inclusion moment the country is facing under the second Trump administration.
Another pivotal decision that positioned the nonprofit for today's reality was launching year-round programming in 2023.
While Oaklash was on a growth trajectory following a successful return to in-person programming in 2022, Mama Celeste said that now, 'the objective is stability and deepening our roots.'
In keeping with Oaklash's mission, that means leaning 'more into the nonprofit sector and really think about the queer arts environment and queer nightlife economy as ecology-building,' explained Mama Celeste, who is also a drag performer. 'That's where my head is at as the executive director.'
Although the organization lost a $14,000 festival grant from Oakland when the city cut their 2025 festival grants program, Oaklash Board President Charles Hawthorne describes the organization's finances as healthy.
'The thing we have learned repeatedly is we like to put our money into people who help create our events, and we also like to focus our efforts and our energy towards uplifting people and performers who are not uplifted in other areas of our community,' said Hawthorne. 'I think, in this moment when the resources are being taken away, what's been really beautiful to see is how much people are still excited about Oaklash.'
Over the past two years, Oaklash has expanded beyond its signature festival into a year-round queer arts program, focused on producing large-scale drag events and mentoring emerging queer and trans leaders in nightlife. It's set up the Oaklash Disability Fund, offering unrestricted grants to disabled LGBTQ artists in the Bay Area. It's also made accessibility practices a cornerstone of its ethos, staffing events with ASL interpreters and exclusively presenting in ADA-compliant venues.
Oaklash has also hosted a number of community workshops on issues ranging from arts funding and money management to makeup and wig artistry. In February, the organization even launched its first trio of artists-in-residence: performer and disability rights advocate Glamputee, performer and classical musician Obsidienne Obsurd and performer and visual artist Evian.
Meanwhile, the organization has a long history of political and social advocacy, which Mama Celeste said the community 'demands of us.' That has included boycotting Israeli products due to the country's conflict in Gaza and resisting what co-founder Beatrix LaHaine has described as 'joy-washing' and the 'weaponization of kindness' as a way of avoiding addressing bigger issues beyond the LGBTQ community.
'It's not just joy for the sake of disassociating and coming together and forgetting about everything that's happening in the world,' said Mama Celeste. 'A big part of why we did this in Oakland to begin with is Oakland has always had that vibe where the community doesn't mess around out here.'
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New York Times
10 hours ago
- New York Times
This Pastor Thought Being Gay Was a Sin. Then His 15-Year-Old Came Out.
Changing your mind can be a difficult thing to do, especially when it also means reconsidering the foundation of your faith. That's what happened for the evangelical pastor Bill White when his 15-year-old son Timothy came out as gay to him at Starbucks. On this episode of 'The Opinions,' Bill reads from his journal documenting the personal transformation that led him to thank God for making his son gay. Below is a transcript of an episode of 'The Opinions.' We recommend listening to it in its original form for the full effect. You can do so using the player above or on the NYT Audio app, Apple, Spotify, Amazon Music, YouTube, iHeartRadio or wherever you get your podcasts. The transcript has been lightly edited for length and clarity. Bill White: My name is Bill White, and I'm an evangelical pastor in Long Beach, Calif. Timothy White: My name is Timothy White. I grew up in Long Beach, Calif., in the early 2000s. My dad, Bill, was an evangelical pastor from the time that I was born, and before I was even born my dad wrote a letter to my future wife, but he didn't know then what we both know now: that I'm gay. Bill White's journal: April, 1999. Dear daughter: Our son Timothy is about to be born, God willing, in less than two months, and as I've been praying for him, I've started praying for you. So I wanted to write you a letter to give you on your wedding day. Of course, I don't know you. I don't know your name. I don't know if you have even been born yet. As we've been praying for our son, we've also been praying for his future wife. I pray that you would love Jesus more than you love our son, even though we already love our son more than the whole world. We look forward to meeting you. With great love and affection and many prayers, Bill Bill: Our church was a standard conservative, evangelical congregation, where we believe that Jesus saves you from your sins, the Bible is the word of God, that all people are made in God's image, all people are sinful. And we certainly believed that being gay was a sin and should be changed. And when Timothy turned about 8 years old, our church went through some learnings around manhood, and our head pastor at the time had a saying that all men are namby-pamby navel-gazers, and that men are passive and need to step up and be leaders. And so we read a bunch of books around the Christian men's movement and I took it upon myself to raise a Christian man. So Timothy and I started on a tradition of doing these things, becoming a man. We'd do long hikes and do hard things and have conversations about sex and hormones and marriage. The men's movement just had a lot of allure. It connected to me viscerally, and because of that I wanted to raise my son to be a man. But Timothy did not fit that mold very well at all. He didn't play contact sports, he palled around with friends who were girls, and he was kind and relational. He was not a bro at all. Timothy: My dad and I first talked about sexuality when I was young, maybe 7, 8 or 9 years old. He did the birds and the bees with me. He taught me about what it meant to be married and to love and cherish and protect your wife. And so we had a very open and honest relationship about growing up, about sexuality and about sex. One that I think is probably sort of unusual for maybe some evangelical pastors' kids and their dad. It meant that I always felt comfortable bringing up weird or hard things with him. Bill: For me, there were two kinds of Christians. There were these people who said they were Christian and they thought the Bible was kind of interesting. Jesus was a decent moral teacher and homosexuality was just fine. And then there were real Christians, who believed in the Bible as God's truth, who loved Jesus with all their heart, and they said homosexuality was a sin. For me this was a life-or-death question, because I was not about to give up my Jesus just for a few gay people. This was core to my existence as a human, how I saw it, how I lived it and had been for decades. From my journal on May 25, 2013, when Timothy was 13 years old: Bill White's journal: On Wednesday, Timothy mentioned to me that he'd like to take another walk to Starbucks. I figured he had something pretty significant to share if he was initiating, when he brought up a conversation, I will remember the rest of my life. He said he was noticing how a lot of the guys had friends that they could be buddy-buddy with and mess around and do guy things with. He said his issue was he wanted to explore some things like horseplay and pranks that he might be able to do if he had a group of guy friends. We processed that for a while and talked about how he needed some space to explore things like that, and that it was normal and healthy for a young man his age to do so. And he said at one point I wondered if I was gay. I shared that I had met a man earlier in the week who had said that he wondered the same thing at Timothy's age, and yet he turned out that he was straight and that he ended up marrying, et cetera. I was honored by Timothy's trust in me. And I was aware of your presence with us, empowering me not to react, not to recoil and not to push, prod or judge. Father, thank you for being with us, and yet I am as sad as I've ever been. Heart is devastated. I told Katie last night that it feels like someone crushed my sternum and was pounding on my heart. Perhaps 20 years from now I'll look back with disdain at these feelings and surely others would if they knew. But I will not disguise to you what is going on in my heart and soul and mind. I think deep down, I hate homosexuality. I hate it more than just about anything else in the world. I hate it because it seems sometimes to be stronger than you, God. Yes, that's what I said. It seems that way. I'm sure there's plenty of good in the gay community, but my experience tells me otherwise. I see the isolation, the craving, the insecurity. Father, you have to spare Timothy from that. You have to. Bill: I remember when I wrote that entry I was crying. For me, my world was ending. All the gay people I'd known, every one of them, had left the faith. And there's nothing more important to me than my faith. And so to see my son sort of becoming gay in front of my eyes, it was the worst thing I could imagine. Timothy: You know, it's hard to hear your parent say that seeing you act or behave or become something is the hardest thing that they could have imagined or the hardest thing that they could have to deal with. It's sad. But I have the split reaction because it's also almost bizarre or impressive to me to think about my dad saying, 'Watching my son develop and grow into something that I am scared of is the hardest thing that I could possibly imagine' while, at the same time, reflecting on those years of me being 13 and 14 and 15 years old, and sure, we got in fights and we had conflict and I was a stupid teenager and he was occasionally overbearing, but I also just felt so much love from him at that time, and it did not feel like he was going through the hardest thing he could have ever gone through. Bill: In that conversation when Timothy was 13 years old and shared with me that he was questioning his sexuality, he didn't actually come out to me. That would be almost two years later, but it broke something inside of me, because I started to realize my son is gay. And at virtually the same time, I think it was the same week, even, he and I went to the mall, to the Apple Store to get some new gadget. And as we walk out of the Apple Store, there in the mall are these massive two ads. Huge, 20 feet tall. Essentially, a naked man and a naked woman. I mean, they were wearing something, like probably whatever they were advertising, and I just found myself in my little brain thinking: Oh, be faithful to your wife. Don't look at that woman. Don't look at that woman. Your wife is beautiful. Your wife is beautiful, and I'm looking down. And I catch a glance at Timothy out of the side of my eye, and my 13-year-old boy is staring up as if in worship and awe, not looking at the woman but looking at the man. And that's the moment I knew. And it gave me time, which was a real gift, to process everything before he eventually did come out to me. Timothy: In the month leading up to me coming out to him when I was 15, I did start to notice some shifts in him. I started noticing him opening up conversations around sexuality in a slightly more open-ended way. I noticed my dad leaving books around the house that were interrogating the questions of L.G.B.T.Q. inclusion and the church and theology. And so I knew that the conversations were happening. He mentioned that he was thinking about these things, and so when I was thinking about coming out to him, I wasn't worried that he was going to say 'God hates you' or, you know, 'You can never be who you are' or 'You have to change.' So I had asked them a few days before if they wanted to go to Starbucks. This was often where my dad and I had a lot of our most serious conversations. You know, I was a kid in Southern California in the 2010s. And so important things happened at Starbucks, and when we showed up there, my heart was racing. My mind was racing the whole time. I knew that after this conversation that things were going to be different. But I was also excited because I was ready to start the process of growth and of full self-realization. And so I knew things wouldn't be the same. I was a little afraid of that, but I was also journal from March 14, 2015, when Timothy was 15 years old: Bill White's journal: Last Sunday, Timothy asked if he could go to Starbucks with me and Katie to talk about something. I knew. I asked Katie if she was prepared for what we were going to hear. Timothy got a tiramisu frappuccino, and we sat around for a minute and then he said: You're probably wondering why I brought you here today. I've been thinking a lot lately and prayed about it. There's been an internal thing going on and I'm pretty solid on it, and I want to let you guys know first. I'm pretty sure I've decided I'm gay. I told him I loved him. He said he'd never doubted that. Then we proceeded to talk for 45 minutes about how he's doing, what he's been thinking, how he came to his conclusions and his plan for coming out to family and friends and the world. That was one of the finest conversations I've had in my life. Father, thank you for it. Thank you for Timothy's courage in speaking to us. He was excited to show the world that you can be a Christian and be gay. He clearly said he wants his identity and God to come first, which was music to my ears. As I reflect on that conversation, I feel hopeful, really, for the first time that you might be working all things together for good and actually wanting to expand your kingdom through Timothy. He certainly thinks so. And I feel a lot of serenity trusting that you are at work. I suppose I also feel some real concern, some anxiety for Timothy, that he's going to face judgment and ridicule both from the right and the left. That he'll face a lot of pressure to conform one way or the other. And I feel real concern for myself. I know that's selfish, and I don't want to make any of this about me. But the heat will be turned up on me in a huge way. When he comes out, everyone is going to want a piece of me. They're going to seek, perhaps inadvertently but no less potently, to divide our little church. Father, would you help me? Bill: I had done all of this work to get to the point of realizing I love my son and I'm going to stand with him, come hell or high water, and I was at peace. The difficulty came after that, where I realized I still needed to sort through theology. I still needed to figure out: What am I going to do as a church? People were leaving in droves. People were cussing me out from the left and from the right. People were calling for my ordination to be suspended, trying to defrock me. I was going to lose the church. I was trying to figure out my calling, my job, my relationship with God. Everything was coming apart. It was ugly for a long time. It was so ugly. It was ugly internally just for me as I tried to sort through the changes in a system of seeing the world that was so clean, clear, compact, certain, and to expose that to love. Love is not clean and clear, compact or certain. It is messy and it's awesome, but it is not easy. Timothy: My relationship with my dad changed when I came out because, even at that time, it strengthened something between us, because I knew that he was willing to fight for me. And fight for me in an arena both personal, spiritual, professional, financial. He had to give up a lot to fight for me. Bill: When my son came out, I lost everything. I lost my sense of myself. So, yes, it was terribly unnerving. And yes, it was wonderfully freeing to have lost that rigid certainty, that closed system of belief, and to have a more open-ended faith that centered on the love of Jesus. It was the best thing that ever happened to me, and also before that, the worst. Timothy: It's really something when your dad can have the worst thing possible happen to them and then it becomes the best thing possible in their life. What a transformation. And I think there's God in that. Bill: From my personal journal, Jan. 26, 2019, when Timothy is 19 years old: As Katie prayed last night, she thanked you for the remarkable gift of Timothy coming out and how we thought it was the end, but it was only the beginning of a full, true, vibrant life in Christ. Father, thank you, that you created our son gay. Forgive me for how poorly I received that gift. Thoughts? Email us at theopinions@ This episode of 'The Opinions' was produced by Vishakha Darbha. It was edited by Alison Bruzek and Kaari Pitkin. Mixing by Carole Sabouraud and Pat McCusker. Original music by Pat McCusker, and Carole Sabouraud. Fact-checking by Mary Marge Locker. Audience strategy by Shannon Busta and Kristina Samulewski. The director of Opinion Audio is Annie-Rose Strasser. The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We'd like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here's our email: letters@ Follow the New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Bluesky, WhatsApp and Threads.
CBS News
20 hours ago
- CBS News
7 reasons to check out Denver's CinemaQ
Denver Film started CinemaQ in 2009 as a way to celebrate queer voices, queer visions and queer visibility as seen in the film industry. The three-day festival showcases new and classic LGBTQ+ movies from around the world. This year's festival includes 12 feature films as well as a shorts showcase, included are documentaries, dramas and animated movies. CinemaQ runs August 8 - 10, 2025 at the Sie Film Center on East Colfax Avenue in Denver. "We operate 365-days-a-year to just showcase the best in film, build a film community, and we do it all for the viewers," said Keith Garcia, Artistic Director at the Sie Film Center. Here are 7 reasons why you might consider checking it out: 1. BLQ showcase gets bigger & better Denver Film's partnership with Black Pride Colorado is in its second year. The BLQ (Black Lives Queerly) showcase includes screenings of four films, panel discussions, and a dance party. Dr. Tara Jae, Executive Director of Black Pride Colorado, said in a news release that "these screenings are more than events, they are acts of resistance, visibility, and healing for our community at large." "At Black Pride Colorado, we believe in the transformative power of storytelling to reclaim our narratives, celebrate Black queer joy, and build collective liberation," Jae said. 2. You can go inside the fight for trans rights "Heightened Scrutiny," screening on day two, follows civil rights lawyer Chase Strangio as he battles at the Supreme Court for transgender adolescents' right to healthcare. Strangio faces challenges not only in the legal system, but also in the media as he wages this personal fight. 3. Poignant storytelling is timeless CinemaQ kicks off with the presentation of "Twinless." Fresh off its premiere at Sundance Film Festival and before its wider release, "Twinless" explores the themes of loss and connection. The movie follows Roman (Dylan O'Brien) and Dennis (James Sweeney) who meet in a twin bereavement support group and form an unlikely friendship. 4. Who doesn't love a movie starring Olivia Colman & John Lithgow? The Festival closes with a screening of "Jimpa" starring Olivia Colman and John Lithgow. The intergenerational family drama explores the complexities of parenthood, queer identity and the evolving meaning of family. 5. House music has roots in queer Black clubs "Move Ya Body: The Birth of House" shows how house music emerged from the underground dance clubs on the South Side of Chicago. The movie features dramatic recreations, archival materials and interviews with the genre's pioneers. Denver Film will keep the celebration going with a House Party at the Sie Film Center on Saturday, August 9, 2025 after the film screening. 6. Lesbians rule in space Denver Film is hosting SaturGAY Morning Cartoons + Cereal Party at the Sie Film Center. "Where we have some cartoons of yore that I think were very queer coded as a child watching them, but that's before our brand new animated queer film from Australia called "Lesbian Space Princess," Garcia said. 7. Drag queens & club kids may be the best way to survive the apocalypse When zombies attack a warehouse party in Brooklyn, drag queens, club kids & frenemies have to put aside their drama to fight back. "Queens of the Dead" is screening as part of BLQ and is sponsored by Black Pride Colorado. "Queens of the Dead" director, Tina Romero, is the daughter of the Godfather of Zombie movies, George Romero, who directed "Night of the Living Dead." LINK: For Tickets & Information about CinemaQ "The Cinema Q Film Festival was born and we've been amplifying queer voices, queer visions, and queer visibility ever since," Garcia explained. "This year and right now, it's especially an important time to amplify queer voices, and I think, this batch of films is going to be just the right remedy for the kind of ill feeling we have in the world right now."
Yahoo
21 hours ago
- Yahoo
The Pressure to Be Straight Is Real—And It Has a Name
There are many things that feel like a right of passage to LGBTQ+ folks: listening to Lady Gaga a million times on repeat, buying your first Pride flag, discovering the pronouns that feel most right for you and, yes, even crushing on a straight friend. But there is one less fun, sadly common canon event that many queer folks experience, too. Enter: comphet (aka compulsory heterosexuality.) But what is comphet? What does it mean, really? 'Comphet is the aggressive way in which heterosexuality is normalized and even glorified as the 'right' way to experience and explore love, sex and relating,' says Jordana Ezra (she/they), a somatic sexologist based in New York City. 'It's the assumption that women grow up to be with men and love it. It's the idea that girls and femmes are taught to be straight even if they are not.' And it's not just something queer women deal with, either. It's a phenomenon that any person—regardless of gender—can go through when it comes to understanding their love life, sexuality, and identity. If you think you might be on the LGBTQ+ spectrum, but societal expectations of heteronormativity feels confusing, then you just might be experiencing comphet. So how can the world begin to recognize comphet, and more importantly, move through it in a healthy way? To help, we've tapped the experts for their best advice. Meet the experts: Jordana Ezra (she/they), is a somatic sexologist specializing in LGBTQ+. Katie Moore, PsyD, is a licensed clinical psychologist who specializes in LGBTQIA+ affirming care. What is comphet? Comphet goes way back. It's the culmination of centuries of storytelling that centers men, and teaches folks of all genders to see themselves through the eyes of what's 'normal' (aka cisgendered and heterosexual stereotypes), explains Ezra. The term itself was coined by lesbian feminist Adrienne Rich in her 1980 essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," and has since become more widespread. 'Comphet is the idea that we assume people are heterosexual unless proven otherwise,' Katie Moore, PsyD, a licensed clinical psychologist tells Women's Health. And, it's everywhere! 'It happens when people see my wedding ring and ask me about my husband (for reference, I have a wife),' says Moore. 'It's present when we are surprised that a TV character that we assumed was straight turned out to be gay. It's in intake forms at doctors offices when they ask you about your mother and father, but not mother(s) or father(s) or parents.' Moore adds that, often, "we apply this idea even to ourselves, and it can cause identity confusion for some.' In fact, this deep-rooted standard can lead to self-abandonment, a lack of self-confidence, refraining from coming out, or not living a life that is most authentic—that is, unless we work through it. Common signs of compulsory heterosexuality Ok, so you think this phenomenon might apply to you…but how can you know for sure? Ezra and Moore say to watch out for these tell-tale signs of compulsory heterosexuality: You assume characters are straight unless it's specifically stated that they are gay. You've dated men but always felt like something wasn't quite right—you felt confused, or disconnected. You believe that being hetero is 'normal.' You assume that someone is dressing to attract the opposite sex. You say things like: 'that little boy will be a ladies' man someday' or 'that little girl will break all the boys' hearts.' You date people of the opposite sex in hopes that someone will be the right fit. You've told yourself you should like someone because they're nice or into you, even if you weren't feeling it. You feel more alive, safe, or turned on around queer people, but gaslight yourself into making that mean nothing (or even that you're wrong for feeling that way). You crave queer intimacy, but worry you're not gay enough. You stay with someone to avoid disappointing others or losing safety. Straight sex leaves you feeling numb, confused, or like something's missing. You feel drawn to queer stories, spaces, and people, but keep telling yourself, 'I'm just an ally.' Sound familiar? Who is most impacted by comphet? 'I would say that lesbians and queer women are hit the hardest because comphet literally teaches you to ignore your own desires and perform for men emotionally, sexually and relationally,' Ezra explains, 'So many lesbians spend years in straight relationships, thinking something is wrong with them, not the system. And because straight culture is so in-your-face, normalized, and often rewarded, it teaches us that in order to belong, we must follow this path.' Of course, other queer people (especially bisexual, pansexual, or questioning folks) are deeply impacted, too. Comphet tells you to 'pick a side,' pushes you towards relationships that feel 'safer' by society's standards, and can make you feel invalid. Trans and non-binary people are also impacted by the pressure to conform to femininity for the male gaze, or straight culture (even when it doesn't align with their identity or orientation). In Moore's opinion, though, young people are those who are the most affected by comphet, since they're still trying to figure out their identity. Comphet can get in the way. 'As a young girl, I had Ellen as representation, but that was basically it,' she says. 'I didn't see myself in Ellen, or any other representation, and it delayed my process of self-discovery because the assumption was 'straight unless proven otherwise.'' But what if we told you that straight people can experience comphet, too? 'Comphet is about conditioning, not just identity,' Ezra says, 'Straight people might still feel the effects of comphet if they've been taught to ignore their own pleasure, prioritize their partner's needs over their own, or believe that their worth is tied to how desirable they are to the opposite sex.' What to do if you're affected by comphet 'Moving beyond comphet isn't about picking a new label or proving your gayness,' Ezra says. 'It's about letting go of the story that said you had to be straight to be loved, to be safe, to be good.' Here are some expert-approved tips on how to let that story go: 1. Get honest about what feels performative 'Start noticing when you're doing things because you think you should, not because you actually want to,' Ezra says. 2. Look for representation 'Find people who you see yourself in, and learn about them,' Moore suggests. 'You might learn about yourself along the way.' 3. Take back the gaze 'Use practices like breath, self-pleasure, or mirror work to experience what desire, safety, and 'no' feel like in your body and outside of the male gaze,' Ezra says, 'Teach the parts of you that have been most impacted by comphet a new empowering narrative.' That might look like re-educating your inner child, or rewiring the brain with an empowering belief from a sex-positive, queer-liberated perspective. In her work as a somatic sexologist, Ezra hosts retreats for queer women to do just that. 4. Get to know the queer community There's probably a lot more to the community than you realize. Plus, having a sense of belonging rewires the nervous system, and being seen in your queerness helps you trust it. 5. Grieve what you didn't get to have 'Make space for the sadness, confusion, or anger that comes from realizing you've been disconnected from your truth,' Ezra says, 'And the time spent forcing yourself to relate in inauthentic ways.' 6. Gently name the shame 'Notice where internalized homophobia shows up and meet it with compassion, not judgment,' Ezra offers. 'Integrating this is a huge part of living beyond the stronghold of comphet.' 7. Seek professional support Lastly, if needed, reach out to a therapist to walk through this entire process with you. 'Focus on finding one who specializes in LGBTQIA+ work,' Moore explains, 'Accepting is not the same as affirming, and you'll want to work with someone who truly understands this.' 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