Exploring LGBTQ+ Washington DC

There’s a handsome man standing in front of a self-portrait of Frida Kahlo at the National Museum of Women in the Arts in downtown DC.

As I approach this J. Crew-clad cutie I scratch my brain for a suitable opening. I’ve pre-rehearsed a few DC-tailored pickup lines, but neither “I’d like to do some unconstitutional things to you right now” or “I’ll show you my Washington Monument if you show me yours” meets the moment. Instead, I read the placard adjacent to the painting and murmured aloud, “I didn’t know Kahlo had an affair with Trotsky.” J. Crew tilts his head slightly. “Me neither,” he says.

The National Museum of Women in the Arts is abuzz with cocktail wielding queers. Tonight is an opening gala for Samantha Box: Confluences, a double collection of photographic works including Invisible, an exploration of black transgender and non-binary youth participating in NYC’s underground Kiki ballroom pageants, and Caribbean Dreams, a look at Box’s identity as a black, queer woman with immigrant parents.

The crowd is Sapphic ladies with a smattering of gay men, and from the museum’s ground floor I see folks clustered in intimate circles and cantilevering over the second-floor terrace. Between the diversity of faces surrounding me and the ones captured in Box’s striking photos, I have a sense of what Washington DC will look like come May when an estimated 3 million LGBTQ+ people will descend upon the city for WorldPride Washington DC 2025. Thanks to a change in government, it’s hard to say whether it will be a parade or a protest, but one thing for sure is our nation’s capital will be bursting with queers.

I love DC. I love that the city is cotton candy pink during cherry blossom season and a smoldering amber in autumn when the leaves are gold foiled like an Oscar statuette. I love DC at dawn when the morning light floods the Tidal Basin bathing one icon after another in warm colors that are neither the red nor blue that divide us. (For the record, I am 100% team blue.) And I love how DC buildings alternate between architectural icons like the Lincoln Memorial, the National Museum of African American History and Culture, the Library of Congress, and efficient, non-descript structures that resemble the plain clothed civil servants who diligently work inside them.

Most importantly I love how queers are everywhere in this town. As a DC friend said to me, “If you scream the word f*ggot on any city street, at least six people will turn their heads.” His claim is bolstered by my Scruff feed which gets plenty of “woofs” during my long week end stay, including some from headless torsos and married bi guys who I assume are closeted Republicans. (Will I find a profile with the initials LG, I wonder?)

Cherry Blossoms at the Tidal Basin (Photo by Ceative Cat Studio)

After my museum gala, I check in at the Kimpton Hotel Monaco Washington DC, which is housed inside the former General Post Office, a stunning neo-classical building whose grandeur is reflected in the ornate and enormous hotels rooms with high ceilings and hallways as wide as the Palace of Versailles. A fire crackles in the lobby, which is bathed in Wicked’s emerald green (a coincidence perhaps, though a lion’s head does loom over my king bed). It looks like the kind of stately building where Founding Fathers might’ve once gathered to sign a law (and where I may invite a guest back to my room to break a few.) Dirty Habit might be the best name for a hotel restaurant ever. I would’ve thought a hotel eatery in this town would have a more governmental name like The Diplomat or The Sovereign, but I love that its moniker instead encourages bad behavior. I am thinking this while sit ting at one of its highboy banquettes and scraping the remains of a warm butternut squash soup from the bottom of my bowl with a spoon. The chatter from a loud company party fills up most of the room, but I still overhear a very DC conversation happening next to me. “We don’t get to pick our Supreme Court judges,” bellows a loud lawyer. “Amazon will probably settle anyway,” he then grumbles.

With a full belly, I take a bus to the Little Gay Pub, a cozy corner tavern in Logan Circle that I am smitten with instantly. Beyond beverages and bites (I order an amaro spritz to aid in digestion and bartender Billy advises me to come back when I’m hungry and get the tater tots and dip them in baked brie), there is the bar’s striking décor including alluring caramel banquettes, framed artifacts of LGBTQ+ history, and antique jars full of Jelly Bellies. Its two bathrooms have become selfie hotspots that have even spawned their own Instagram account (@royal_flush_lgp).

THURSDAY

It is a brisk morning in the district. I rise, shine, and rush across Franklin Park alongside bureaucrats and worker bees wearing tightly fitting sweaters, snug jackets, and scarves wound so tightly I worry they’re choking their people. At Fig leaf, a bar and lounge inside the Hotel Zena, I cup both hands around my café latte to warm them. Behind me is a large rendering of Ruth Bader Ginsburg dressed in a bejeweled collar like the ones she’d wear when she had a dissenting opinion. Her presence here is no coincidence.

Hotel Zena is a 119-room boutique hotel that pays tribute to courageous and pioneering women. One wall just off the hotel lobby boasts floor-to-ceiling buttons with slogans like “Keep your policies off my body” and “If you sexist me, I will feminism you” on them. Other pieces of art include portraits of Shirley Chisholm and Rosa Parks, while a mounted purse has the phrase “Equal pay” written across it. The lobby sofas and chairs are pink, and coincidentally everyone reclining upon them this morning happens to be a woman. The LGBTQ-friendly Zena (parent company Viceroy boasts an LGBTQ+ Travel Advisory Board and provides Pride Month drag shows and drink specials) also offers handsome guestrooms with amenities like room-darkening shades, plush robes, and posh bath and body products, plus a rooftop pool that sometimes hosts queer pool parties.

Onward to the National Mall, where the Washington Monument is gleaming this morning, the trees surrounding it bending to westward breezes. It provides me a beacon of sorts in that it sits right next to The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, which I have long wanted to visit. This museum offers a living memorial to the victims of the Holocaust (including gay men who were persecuted under Nazi Germany and forced to wear a pink triangle in concentration camps) and I weep my way through most of it. It also traces Hitler’s rise to power, like his scapegoating of minorities and promise to make Germany great again. It’s a chilling reminder of how domestic dissatisfaction can steer a country toward an autocratic leader and the death of its own democracy.

Brunch at Officina (Photo courtesy of washington.org)

Across town, the bleeps and blurps of Donkey Kong, Pac-man, and Mortal Kombat provide a lightweight contrast to the Holocaust Museum’s heaviness. They are all part of the décor at Gordon Ramsay Street Pizza, the first US pizza location from the legendary restauranteur which happens to sit a stone’s throw from my hotel. I order a salted caramel milkshake, kick back and watch as the open kitchen effortlessly slides sourdough pies in and out of the oven. The Mumbo #5, named for the DC-pioneered condiment (a tomato based sauce that is both sweet and tangy) is the joint’s bestseller. I return to the Hotel Monaco to take a nude nap under the voyeuristic eye of a mounted bust of a Founding Father. With renewed vigor I grab my SmarTrip card and ride the Metro to the revitalized Capitol Riverfront neighborhood, home to the fantastic Rubell Museum DC. Turns out, this historically Black junior high school built in 1906 with high ceilings, concrete floors, exposed brick and stunning Georgian windows that let in generous amounts of morning light is exactly where contemporary art should live. Exhibitions change regularly and queer artists are well represented. I love this place.

From a barstool at nearby GATSBY restaurant, I can practically hear Shakira belting out “Whenever, Wherever.” The Latin pop super star will headline WorldPride Washington DC 2025 at National Park baseball stadium, which sits right across the street from gay-owned GATSBY, making it the ideal pre-show perch. Tonight, this Jazz Age inspired joint with Art Deco diner vibes is abuzz with folks getting their fingers sticky with mumbo chicken wings (there’s that sauce again!) and stuffing their faces with deviled eggs. I order the Bees Knees cocktail (which comes in a photogenic honey bear jar) and slurp matzo ball soup, then I use my fork to twirl a marvelous shrimp scampi with a lobster tail on top.

“Trade DC make some noiiiiiise!,” the drag queen holding court says as she announces Tiara Misu who will perform a rousing rendition of Meghan Trainor’s “Me Too” during tonight’s aristocracy-themed lip sync battle. I’m sitting on a banquette directly in front of the stage and cradled between my thighs is a ginger cutie and DC local I met several months ago in Los Angeles who is joining me for a drink after some relaxing tub time together at the Monaco. As the crowd showers each queen with dollar bills, I scan the room.

Trade is a fantastic Logan Circle bar, hangout, and nightclub for DC gays. It boasts a glowing ABSOLUT sign with the letters A, B and O blackened out so that it reads SLUT, an outdoor patio that’s busy even in foul weather, and a disco ball that once swirled at no less than three other queer establishments around town (so I’m told). It is also said that after every theme party the owners leave something behind so that the décor is intentionally mismatched. Our doorman’s name is Crochet King (tonight happens to be his birthday) and on my way out I marvel at the elaborate scarf he’s knitted for himself. Turns out he also crochets poppers holders, which are for sale behind the bar.

FRIDAY

Who says DC queers don’t have style? In the morning queue at LGBTQ owned Three Fifty Bakery & Coffee Bar, a lanky twink in front of me is sporting a floor length white leopard print fur coat opened to expose his blue short shorts and skinny legs. He orders the bacon cheddar quiche, which sounds tempting, though I opt for the spinach and feta version and pairit with a chocolate biscotti and americano. This queer corner bakery is below street level, but easy to find thanks to rainbow crosswalks out front.

Spinich and Feta Quiche (Photo by DronG)

It’s a frigid morning and with my coffee in hand I enter the Hay-Adams Hotel to warm up inside the lobby. I’m not supposed to be here (the hotel is for guests only), though I love standing in the historic spot where gay activists Frank Kameny and Jack Nichols formed the Mattachine Society Washington on August 1, 1961. That’s according to Katherine Fisher, the founder of DC PrideWalks, who meets me across the street.

We are huddling together in Lafayette Square, an iconic park that was once a popular cruising area. As I dig my fists into my puffy jack et and Fisher clenches hers around a pair of hand warmers, she points to a statue of Baron Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben, a key figure in the American Revolution who is now understood to be homosexual. He is depicted alongside military officers William North and Benjamin Walker who he had “close” relationships with and ended up adopting so they could be his heirs.

From researcher Evelyn Hooker’s historic efforts to prove homosexuality was not a mental illness to Ford’s Theatre where Abraham Lincoln was assassinated (Walt Whitman’s lover witnessed the shooting), Fisher takes me on a riveting 90-minute journey that includes ACT-UP protests, cruising gay sailors, and pioneering DC women. If you have even a pass ing interest in LGBTQ history, I can’t recommend this tour enough.

Afterward, I find myself strolling Pennsylvania Avenue (where the WorldPride parade, street festival, and closing ceremony will take place) and eventually end up at Freedom Plaza. A place of peace and protest named in honor of Martin Luther King Jr., Freedom Plaza also sits right in front of the JW Marriott Washington, DC, a WorldPride official hotel sponsor and host of the WorldPride 2025 Human Rights Conference.

The JW Marriott (the first in the JW portfolio) exudes effortless DC energy. It’s only a stone’s throw to the White House and I can easily imagine political types lobbying in its vast and open lobby. It’s a luxury four-star property and guests here are greeted with a welcome (and always evolving) elixir crafted from local ingredients before being whisked away to one of 777 guestrooms and 22 suites. (Some suites have terraces with jaw-dropping Mall views.) But what I love most is that the hotel occupies the same site where the gin rickey was invented and its 1331 Bar & Lounge pays tribute to the classic cocktail with a plaque out front and its own version of the famous libation inside.

Is that a svelte and bearded Joseph Gordon-Levitt looking mighty fine in glasses and a long coat standing next to me? Indeed, it is! I’ve just wrapped up a DC power lunch (not powerful at all, but in this town it’s fun to pretend) at busy seafood eatery Hank’s Oyster Bar which is LGBTQ owned (and thus makes me think of the Blue Oyster Bar, the fictional leather saloon from the Police Academy series). Now I’m in the lobby of the InterContinental Wharf DC gawking at Levitt. He’s one of many nattily dressed politicos and celebrities attending a bipartisan summit on the future of the Internet.

From my plush lobby chair, I can see the wharf’s revitalized waterfront promenade where pedestrians idyll on sunny weekends at restaurants like aforementioned Hank’s and MiVida (which is also gay owned). I can also see the long and leggy District Pier, the site of Pride on the Pier each June. I love the Mall and the monuments, but from my plush perch inside the InterContinental lobby I totally get the appeal of staying on the Wharf, which feels like a world away from DC’s partisan fights. It doesn’t hurt that the hotel boasts a spa, a rooftop pool with panoramic views, and 278 luxury guestrooms that provide a nice counterpoint to its historic sibling the Willard InterContinental DC where Calvin Coolidge once lived and where Martin Luther King Jr. made final edits to his famous “I Have a Dream” speech.

Smithsonian American Art Museum (Photo by bluestork)

With umbrella in hand, I head toward the Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM) and the National Portrait Gallery (both housed inside the old Patent Office Building) where I make it a game to seek out paintings by LGBTQ artists and luminaries. Between the two museums, there are many, including works by George Tooker, Paul Cadmus, and Frank O’Hara at SAAM. Inside the National Portrait Gallery, I head straight to America’s Presidents to admire queer artist Kehinde Wiley’s dazzling floral portrait of Barack Obama. (I also scan the room to imagine where a portrait of President Harris might have been hung.) The ongoing exhibition The Struggle for Justice includes a Stonewall Tribute, Brilliant Exiles: American Women in Paris, 1900- 1939 where I strike Sapphic gold. This fantastic, albeit temporary, exhibition includes portraits of or paintings by bisexual and lesbian women including Djuna Barnes, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Josephine Baker, Ada “Bricktop” Smith, Romaine Brooks, and Picasso’s famous portrait of Gertrude Stein. A temporary exhibition, Felix Gonzalez Torres: Always to Return, is on display through July 2025 and showcases the work of the legendary conceptual queer artist.

Later, in Logan Circle, I find the buzzy hive where all the cute, but toned-up DC gays head to on a Friday after work to loosen their ties, complain about the new administration, and booze it up. Of course, drinks here are 2-for-1 daily until 8 P.M. so who can blame them? The place is slender Number Nine and it’s as attractive as its crowd. It’s a cozy cocktail den featuring highboy banquettes extending the entire length of one wall and amber-lit chandeliers that show off everyone’s good side. I end up meeting Craig and Allen, a biracial couple who point me toward DC’s best Friday gay hangouts (Thurst Lounge, JRs, Crush, and Kiki they say) and who swear without evidence that the bottomless brunch was born in DC.

Flush and stumbling thanks to two old fashions sloshing around inside me, I promptly fall onto the slick and wet sidewalk outside of restaurant Olio e Più and enter with a bruised knee and wounded ego and take a seat at the bar. The DC outpost of a buzzy Italian trattoria with locations in Chicago and NYC, Olio is thrumming tonight with a soundtrack that meshes smooth jazz and the chatter of a posh, weekend ready clientele. Olio happens to sit right along the DC Pride Parade route and is open all day, but I’m loving being here at dinner among DC’s best dressed. I order the fusilli with wild boar ragout and finish with the tiramisu (a nod to last night’s queen at Trade). As I get up to leave two cute gays promptly take a seat right next to me. Such is life.

Celebrating Pride in DC (Photo by Del Jones Pictures)

The air at Thurst Lounge is filled with fragrant cloud bursts of guava, mint, and French vanilla thanks to its hookah program. Thurst is a newish two-story gay bar and noteworthy as the only black-owned queer bar in town. The theme tonight is Flirty Fridays and I aim to do just that starting with the bartender who has the longest and prettiest lashes I’ve ever seen. I maneuver through the crowd toward a little seating area near the front, but my pathway is obstructed by a bespeckled gay in a beanie who keeps using the area as his voguing runway. He’s not the only one moved by the infectious beats. Near the chair where I sip my cocktail, a young guy rises as if possessed, grips the back of the loveseat with both hands and twerks vigorously in my face. After two long hookah puffs, his friend then scolds me for yawning. He’s right. It’s too early to be this tired. Time to get on my feet and change scenery.

On the second floor of Kiki, a sprawling DC gay bar occupying two rowhouses connected like conjoined twins, a cute Latino man in a tight tanktop is holding my shoulder at the bar and singing “Never Enough” from Greatest Showman into my ear. I order a bitters and soda from a bartender who is wearing a t-shirt that proclaims, “Hatred for everybody!” Out of nowhere two smooth and creamy go-go boys appear behind the bar wearing only mesh lingerie, but I barely notice as ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” lures me to the floor where I sway my ass vigorously before calling it a night.

SATURDAY

A stone’s throw from the majestic United States Supreme Court Building, where conservative justices keep making one horrible decision after another these days, morning shoppers are strolling the cobbled streets of Eastern Market and perusing the vendors with discernment. I watch as shoppers inspect vine-ripened tomatoes, thumb through stacks of vintage albums, plunge their noses into the wicks of hand poured candles, and sample torn pieces of artisanal breads with the help of toothpicks. The 151-year-old market is housed in a historic brick building, though much of the shopping takes place at temporary stalls set up on weekends.

Historic Eastern Market (Photo by cdrin)

At Union Market, a modern food hall in NoMA, one bakery sign proclaims “the best buns you’ve ever had,” but I know a few blue rib bon bottoms who could easily contest that claim. Food puns are big here as evidenced by meatless Laobun Dumplings motto “living on the vedge.” Out of 40 vendors, I’m ultimately won over by the hospitality and southern comforts at Puddin’ where I’m served a flavorful bowl of shrimp and grits.

It’s a much-needed sunny day in the district, so I hop on an electric scooter and spend the afternoon following DC’s beer trail. LGBTQ owned Red Bear Brewery announces itself with giant fermentation tanks and Pride Progress and Black Lives Matter flags. I order a cider, though part of me wishes I’d gotten the non-alcoholic root “bear.” At night, Red Bear hosts drag shows, drag bingo, and Drag Race viewing parties. In the bathroom, a framed pic of Dolly Parton watches over me while I pee.

Inspired by the beer gardens of Germany, Wunder Garten (which hosted weekly “Gay Gardens” during Pride Month last year) is currently in the middle of an activation for Wicked and thus draped in emerald. This tented beer garden has fairy vibes all over it and looks exactly like the kind of place where Glinda and Elphaba would reserve one of the private cabanas to toast their graduation from Shiz University. Later that afternoon, I take a stroll around DuPont Circle which is no longer the LGBTQ mecca it once was (most DC gays tell me that distinction now belongs to Logan Circle), but today it sure is bustling. I head to Kramers, a wonderful indie bookstore with an onsite café and tons of LGBTQ titles.

“Tits and ass!” It’s show tunes happy hour at JRs, and I enter to a sequined and squealing Audrey Landers belting out her iconic number from the 1985 film version of the hit musical on TV screens. JRs is a classic DC gay bar, so much so that the crowd here ranges from slender-waisted fawns with fake IDs to guys who I can tell have been sipping suds here since the bar first opened in 1986. “Any specials tonight,” I ask the dreamy bartender with a winsome smile and bulging biceps. “Just you babe,” he says. I order a vodka soda and head to a highboy. “Guilty” by Streisand is next up. Is this from a musical I ask the bearded fella next to me. “Anything with Barbra counts,” he replies. “Same with Liza.” I sip and sing along for a few numbers but depart right after villainous dyke cephalopod Ursula sings “Poor Unfortunate Souls” from The Little Mermaid.

Alicia Eggerts This Present Moment Neon Artwork at the Renwick Gallery (Photo by Aiden Aydin)

During this trip, I ask several DC gays what they think is the most iconic LGBTQ destination in DC and all of them have the same response: Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse. This community stalwart since 1948 sits just north of a crosswalk ringed by rainbows. The crowd tonight is probably 90% queer, as is the host who never once makes eye contact with me. Annie’s is more like a neighborhood hangout than an upscale steakhouse. After stuffing myself on classic fare, my server asks if I want desert. Nothing for me, I say. I’m heading to the underwear party at Green Lantern. “So you’ll be having dessert there,” he replies.

The underwear party, which happens monthly at DC queer bar Green Lantern, is slamming tonight. I strip down to a Cellblock 13 Tight End white jockstrap with button snaps, but struggle to find ample space on the dance floor thanks to the two furries who keep whacking my bottom with their unusually bushy tails. A Welshmen I’ve been flirting with has nothing good to say about his fellow queer countrymen: “They are all small and orange and look like Oompa Loompas,” he claims. Out of nowhere a young guy with a 28” waist begs me to let him rub my furry chest (I oblige him), and a flirtyAsian dude introduces me to his much older boyfriend who hap pens to look just like me. I dance, sweat, and cruise, but when a girl who can’t be more than 22 persistently tries to lock me in an embrace, I realize it’s time to go.

SUNDAY

It’s fun to see straight people gasp! The queens make this happen on several occasions this morning at drag brunch at Perry’s. Because I’m at the 10 A.M. show (there’s also a 1 P.M. version) I’m surrounded mostly by hetero couples, families, and groups of young women. A family sitting near me, for example, has brought their child for his first birthday, while a couple next to me came all the way from Mongolia. Perry’s, an Adams Morgan fixture, has been hosting drag brunch since 1991 (which might be a nationwide record) and offers an all-you-can eat buffet which continues throughout the show and includes items both savory (scrambled eggs, tater tots, truffled grilled cheese, assorted salads) and sweet (crème brulee cake, pistachio chocolate mousse, mini matcha tarts).

I bend over my table mid-show to offer Sue Nami (singing Car ole King’s “Natural Woman”) a dollar bill, and wind up with her standing over me, stiletto heel pressed dangerously close to my reproductive organs. There’s also a rousing Cher medley from Whitney Gucci Goo and a rendition of Chappell Roan’s “Pink Pony Club” which makes me homesick for Los Angeles. “When this world gets very cold just know that you have people in your corner who love you,” says our drag emcee who offers a touching shoutout to US service members. This is the most fun you can have in the district on a Sunday morning, and it should be mandatory that every Republican on the Hill attend.

Celebrating Pride in DC

As the late afternoon light pours across the water and over the Jefferson Memorial I feel completely relaxed and at ease. DC is an incredible queer city, and the second Trump administration better not mess it up.

It’s a beautiful afternoon and after brunch I head over to LGBTQ owned Miss Pixie’s, an antique furniture store containing all kinds of unique treasures like collectible cookie jars, Hollywood Regency glassware, vintage vinyl, gently used curiosities, and more.

My last Adams Morgan stop is at a bar inside a church—make that a former church. The Line Hotel is a striking 220-room boutique hotel housed inside a First Church of Christ Scientist building from 1912. It was built in a neoclassical style with stately columns and 60-foot vaulted ceilings and today houses the hippest hotel in DC. There is a Sunday market happening in a terraced area of the hotel overlooking its main lobby, which this afternoon is full of trendy types clacking away on laptops, but I head to No Goodbyes, an all-day dining destination where the jovial bartender pours me several top-notch tipples like the sake, sweet vermouth, and sherry-infused Supreme Adonis. We discuss music, booze, and politics before he sends me glassy-eyed and stumbling out the door.

In a few hours I will be on a plane, but there’s still one more thing I need to do. I order an Uber and head to the Tidal Basin. This man made reservoir squeezed between the National Mall and the Potomac River is home to the annual Cherry Blossom Festival, as well as my favorite place to idyll on a beautiful day like today. As the late after noon light pours across the water and over the Jefferson Memorial I feel completely relaxed and at ease. DC is an incredible queer city, and the second Trump administration better not mess it up.

WORLDPRIDE 2025 TOP EVENTS

(Photos by ESibRapid)

With three million LGBTQ people from around the world expected to come to our nation’s capital May 17–June 8, 2025, there will be dozens upon dozens of exciting events happening all over town. Here are a five marquee favorites to whet your gay whistle. (See a full roster of events at WorldPrideDC.org/events.)

Welcome Concert (Sat, May 31; Nationals Stadium). This will be no ordinary night at the ballpark. Join more than 41,000 screaming homos at a concert headlined by none other than pop star Shakira who will bring her Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran World Tour to DC as part of a blowout kickoff celebration.

Trans Pride Washington DC (May 17-18; locations TBD). Now more than ever is the time to recognize, celebrate, and show solidarity with our transgender brothers and sisters. Think discussions, workshops, support groups, performances, parties and more.

Global Dance Party (Fri, June 6 – Sat, June 7: RFK Festival Grounds). Jake Resnicow’s Dreamland, the same folks who put together the music festival for WorldPride NYC, returns with a two day, fully immersive art and musical extravaganza offering house, pop, drag, circuit, and techno music spread across multiple stages.

WorldPride Street Festival and Concert (Sat, June 7 – Sun June 8; Pennsylvania Ave). We love free events! This one happens right on Pennsylvania Ave and will offer street fair vibes including hundreds of vendors, live musical performances, food carts and multiple beverage gardens. Happening noon to 10 P.M. both days so dip in and out as you like!

WorldPride Parade (Sat, June 7; Kickoff at 14th and T Streets NW). The parade theme is The Fabric Of Freedom , which is right on point. The parade begins in super queer Logan Circle and winds its way right past the White House, so if you have a provocative sign you want to hoist, you know exactly where on the parade route to stand.

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