Opinion: A Capital Pride board member becoming a Trump appointee should ring alarm bells

One of the first public queer gatherings I attended in D.C. took place in the streets. The night before Trump was inaugurated in 2017, I joined hundreds of other people for a queer dance party protest outside Mike Pence’s house. An organizer from WERK for Peace asked me to download the playlist in case we lost Spotify service. Big Freedia, Janelle Monae, and Lady Gaga were in my pocket, ready to back us up no matter what. 

We shimmied and twirled through the previously quiet, dark streets. The air felt electric. I danced up a hilly street beside someone swirling ribbon wands through the air and felt an overwhelming sense of belonging in the pit of my stomach, even amidst a crowd of mostly – at the time – strangers. 

Starting a life in the nation’s capital under the first Trump administration gave me a rapid re-education in the kind of political engagement necessary to protect myself and those I care about. When I think of Pride, the images that come up are from community-organized events like that night. 

What does not come to mind is Starbucks, TD Bank, Raytheon, and Absolut. I stopped going to the annual Pride organized by the Capital Pride Alliance after my first summer here, when I watched in confusion as corporate float after corporate float drove by. It was not worth standing in the wet summer heat for all that. 

More seasoned queer DCers were way ahead of me – just down the street, hundreds of people organized by No Justice No Pride blockaded the parade to escalate community demands including cutting ties with Wells Fargo, defense contractors, the Metropolitan Police Department, and other institutions who have been harming queer and trans communities for generations. 

Last week, Capital Pride revealed its ugly ties to corporate greed and censorship yet again, when Vince Micone stepped aside from his 15-year stint as a board member after being appointed by Trump as Acting Secretary of the U.S. Department of Labor. 

Less than a week into his new, temporary role, Micone issued a directive halting all Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) programs within the department, claiming they “divided Americans by race, wasted taxpayer dollars, and resulted in shameful discrimination.”

He also ordered a cease and desist on all investigative and enforcement activity under rescinded Executive Order 11246 – the 1965 protection against identity-based discrimination in federal hiring practices.

Micone’s actions harm BIPOC, immigrants, disabled folks, and others who hold marginalized identities. His words also represent a profound betrayal of LGBTQ+ individuals, for whom anti-discrimination laws have been crucial in expanding access to jobs, housing, and health care. Ultimately, his decisions to carry out these orders are a stark demonstration of the complicity we will need to combat over the next four years.

While these moves may seem counter to Micone’s own identity and much of his professional background, in some ways we should have seen it coming from a mile away. Micone has had deep involvement in D.C.’s LGBT political scene for decades, having served as a member of Mayor Bowser’s LGBT Advisory Commission and as a Reserve Police Officer with the Gay and Lesbian Liaison Unit.

His idea of participating in civic life is vastly different from the queer people who have fought tooth and nail for decades – often, directly against police and legislation passed by queerphobic governments– to carve out spaces for intersecting communities to connect, create, and dream together. 

D.C. has a long history of queer people refusing to assimilate into harmful systems. Black activists like Ray Melvin and ABilly S. Jones-Hennin helped lay groundwork in the ‘70s and ‘80s for the creation of D.C. Black Pride, which was officially launched in the ‘90s by Ernest Hopkins as a response to racism in mainstream Pride events. Mary Farmer, who organized with LIPS, a group taking direct action around HIV/AIDS and the Reagan administration, also owned a lesbian feminist bookstore and community space in D.C. for nearly twenty years. 

Activists like the iconic Rayceen Pendarvis have carried on the legacy of carving out queer spaces today, from emceeing DC's first Black Pride to creating an essential cultural home through the 9-year-run of the "Ask Rayceen Show,” and so much more. 

Queer spaces have always been hard to create and even harder to keep – yet have been easily  co-opted for profit. Both Bowser’s administration and city leaders across the U.S. have used them to distract from blood shed by war contractors and cops, line the pockets of corporations, and warp queer people and culture into something palatable enough to exploit. 

There are many examples of what happens when governments and big business meddle in cultural institutions – one is the 17th Street High Heel Race, which was started over 40 years ago as a silly betting game between a few dozen drag queens and bartenders in the area. It lost its sparkle when Mayor Bowser made it an official city event and forced programming that attracted hordes of non-queer people, overbearing law enforcement, and created an uneasy sense that queer culture was being made a spectacle. 

Despite bloating and controlling queer events, Bowser has made it clear she's not willing to adequately address some of the queer community’s most critical issues –  like D.C.’s housing crisis, which is disproportionately experienced by unhoused queer youth and adults.

Capital Pride’s defense of Micone reflected this divide, emphasizing his decades of volunteerism, board membership, and 30 years as a public servant – including years under Bowser’s leadership – and instead of bringing me comfort, their statement raised alarms. 

Could Micone have chosen something different? Of course. He could have refused the directive, issued a public statement, or resigned in protest. Instead, he actively chose to further policies designed to harm his own community.

As queer, working-class labor activist Leslie Feinberg warned in Stone Butch Blues: “Surrendering is unimaginably more dangerous than struggling for survival.” 

The sentiment – echoed both in Capital Pride’s statement and in many comments on their Instagram post – that Micone was "just doing his job" is one that has reverberated in the background of evil throughout human history. Nazi soldiers – paid workers – claimed they were merely following orders during the Holocaust. Through the Fugitive Slave Act, federal officials – also paid workers – were directed to bring enslaved individuals back to the places they ran from, perpetuating enslavement even in so-called free states. 

There was mass resistance during these times – a fact often obscured from history, but an important reminder that many of our ancestors didn’t just accept or effect violence.

If the workers tasked with carrying out the Holocaust and slavery had instead joined resistance movements, refused orders, and organized against the oppression they were instructed to carry out, what might our world look like today? 

Perhaps you, reader, feel these comparisons are too dramatic. But this sentiment – the feeling it’s not that bad – is exactly what helps fascism grow. The slow acceptance of the erosion of human rights allows an authoritarian state to be built, brick by brick. 

After four years of executive power and another four to strengthen his network, the Trump administration is poised to act even more decisively and swiftly than his last term. This reality demands we organize more strategically, build wider networks, and hold accountable those who prioritize personal ambition over collective well-being – particularly when they are, technically speaking, ‘one of us.’ I think this kind of organizing is especially important here in D.C. —  in the belly of the beast.

There are already countless ways to plug into efforts to build a better city and a more just world. Getting involved with mutual aid projects and groups like the Baldwin House, Harriet’s Wildest Dreams, Occupation Free DC, ReDeliciousDC, Consistent Money Moving Project – and so many more – can be a starting point. And as one of the wealthiest areas in the world, it’s time for individuals and institutions to redistribute money and resources directly to these kinds of frontline organizations. 

This week was an uncomfortable reminder that holding a marginalized identity does not guarantee solidarity. The work ahead is immense – but history shows collective resistance can overcome even the most oppressive forces. And in the meantime: Mr. Micone, it’s not too late to take your actions back. It’s not too late to stand on the side of justice instead.