Who Gets to Celebrate Pride?

On Sunday afternoon, New York mayor Bill de Blasio tweeted out one of several nods to the weekend’s Pride celebrations, shouting out “the Black, trans activists who built the movement and continue to lead today.” Meanwhile, near Washington Square Park, many of those very same activists were reportedly being pepper-sprayed, beaten, and arrested by the NYPD at the Queer Liberation March.

As the Empire State Building was lit up in rainbow to celebrate Pride on the 51st anniversary of the Stonewall riots, LGBTQ+ protesters—many of them queer and trans people of color—were running from police batons on the streets of New York, dabbing pepper spray from their eyes, and frantically texting friends to make sure they were safe. The irony was painful, as was the fundamental message: If you are the right kind of queer in New York, you will be protected and uplifted (to the extent that your identity remains commodifiable). If you deviate from that norm, you will be hunted.

This gets to the heart of the fundamentally unequal queer experience in America. If you are white, cis, and socioeconomically privileged, you will be celebrated even as your more marginalized queer siblings are brutalized, and you will be asked to turn a blind eye to their suffering in exchange for the rosy glow of rainbow-hued acceptance. If you are Black, brown, trans, nonbinary, poor, or exist outside of straight-passing, white, cis culture in any way, you will be forced to see your own history put up for sale even as your present struggle—to work, to seek medical treatment, to simply walk down the street—is criminalized.

This is how things have been—and how they still often are—but this year queer and trans activists of color provided an alternative vision of Pride in which LGBTQ+ identity was a source of shared outrage and activism, not a branding opportunity for corporations. From a rally for Black trans lives that drew over 15,000 to the Brooklyn Museum to a Dyke March event that reorganized itself as a Juneteenth march, this year’s Pride centered space for the voices that are so often drowned out of the LGBTQ+ movement despite having literally built it.

Before the NYPD began its crackdown, the Queer Liberation March was another in a series of peaceful protests in which LGBTQ+ New Yorkers asserted their simple and inalienable right to exist. Soon after officers unleashed their batons and arrested protesters, the skies opened and rain began to pour. In a near-uncanny moment of cosmic timing, a double rainbow then unfurled across New York, a thousand times brighter and more powerful than any lit-up symbol of corporate pride could ever hope to be.

Caring for a Mother With Dementia in the Midst of the Coronavirus Crisis

My mother has always adored orchids. Every winter, when she traveled south to escape the New England cold, she bought them with abandon. Not only were the growing conditions perfect in Florida, the orchids were a steal, selling for less than half of what they cost in Massachusetts. My mother loved a bargain. Over the course of a couple of months, her condo in Boca Grande transformed into a makeshift nursery upon which every flat surface—tables, counters, sills, shelves, and sinks—was covered with orchids, their blossom-laden stems arching promiscuously. My stepfather handled her orchid obsession with good humor up to a point, but at around 20 plants, he’d put his foot down: “Darling, it’s me or the orchids!”

“Oh, don’t make me choose,” my mother would say, laughing. It was a joke, of course, but truth ran beneath it: She was a person who had an easier time getting attached to things than to people.

The problem came when it was time to go back to my mother’s home in the town of Orleans on Cape Cod. Which plants to bring and which to leave behind? She enjoyed the elaborate ritual of preparing her orchids for the journey: carefully staking and giving each plant a final spritz of water before wrapping it in newspaper, and separating one plant from the next with the cardboard innards of a wine case.

My mother and I have always had a loving but complicated relationship with ambiguous boundaries: From the time I was a young teenager, I was more the parent—providing emotional support, advice, and a rational perspective—but my mother still called the shots. She was a force of nature in terms of getting her way, until things changed dramatically starting around six years ago. My stepfather had died a year earlier and it was the first winter she’d spent in Boca Grande without him, grief-stricken and lonely. Her mind was slipping too, only I didn’t realize to what extent. When it came time to return home, she was overwhelmed and needed help.

I hopped on a plane. In just 48 hours, my mother had a flight to catch, a condo to pack up, a rental car to return, a canary to coax into a travel cage (not as easy as it sounds), and dozens of plants to organize. My first job was to wrangle the orchids. To my surprise, my mother told me that she had already culled her collection and packed the plants. All I needed to do was seal and address the boxes and drive them to FedEx. I readied myself with packing tape and a Sharpie and peered into the first box: six orchid plants, two laying on their sides, a potato, two issues of Vanity Fair, and a kitchen sponge.

As almost every adult child of a parent with dementia can attest, it’s hard not to rationalize the early slips and strange behavior: Grief or fatigue could explain away a forgotten ingredient in a signature dish, a mountain of bacon in the refrigerator, a ring in the silverware drawer. Besides, who was I to judge? I was forgetful and overwhelmed myself, juggling two young children and a full-time job while trying to write a memoir on the side. One morning not that long ago, my vision darkened and I panicked that I was losing my sight, only to catch my reflection in the window and realize that in my haste to get a cup of coffee, I’d grabbed my sunglasses rather than my prescription lenses.

“Is there a reason we’re bringing this home?” I teased, holding the damp and smelly sponge by a corner over the garbage pail. She must be even more exhausted than I thought.

She looked at me and said, with a sharpness that started me, “Yes! I want it. Put it right back in the box.”

It was her vehemence about packing the sponge, more than the absurdity of the situation, that made me realize we had entered uncharted territory, one that widowhood and grief could not explain away.

The early years of my mother’s dementia were difficult to navigate. No doubt embarrassed and scared, she was unwilling to acknowledge her memory issues, even to her doctors—as if naming them would make them more real. So I practiced what can only be described as covert caregiving, which involved lots of behind-the-scenes conversations and negotiations in order to preserve my mother’s dignity. At first I felt disloyal talking to family and friends about her condition, until I realized that everyone already knew.

As her health continued to deteriorate and she was no longer able to drive or cook, caregivers became an inevitable part of her daily life, a reality that she took as an assault to her independence. No matter how kind they were, my mother found fault with them. From her perspective, they were strangers in her home, uninvited guests who offended her sensibilities by calling her “dearie,” or chewing gum (a capital offense), or returning a utensil to the wrong drawer. Plus, they were overwaterers. “If they can’t even keep an orchid alive…” my mother mused darkly. Often, she awakened scared in the middle of the night and called me: “I need help. There’s someone in the house.”

Since 2005, when my husband and I had our first child, our family has spent summers and holidays on Cape Cod in the cottage next door to my mother’s house. As recently as a year and a half ago, I could take her on drives to nearby bay beaches, out to the movies, or to dinner at a favorite restaurant. But these outings are things of the past. Although my mother remains at home with live-in care, she is wheelchair-bound now, traveling only from her bedroom to the living room. She has difficulty speaking, so our communication is one-sided. What she responds to most is touch, so I sit right beside her chair and lean against her as we watch a movie or flip through a photo album. If my hand is anywhere near hers, she always places hers on top of it.

But now, the threat of COVID-19 has taken even the small pleasure of holding hands from us, and this feels harder than all other social distancing combined—that my mother might spend her last months without physical affection. In April, my family and I relocated to Cape Cod, but still, I haven’t been able to greet her with a kiss, brush her hair, or hold her hand. The already confusing world has become more confusing to her. I stay on the other side of her living room and explain that there’s a virus going around, and that’s why I’m wearing a mask and gloves, and keeping my distance—because I don’t want to risk getting her sick. She gives me something akin to an eye roll, letting me know she thinks I’m overreacting. More evidence that my mother’s spirit still flares up inside of her.

Only four of her orchids remain, three that are flowering. They sit on a side table a few feet from where she spends her days. When I visit, I place an ice cube in each pot. My mother can no longer recall their fancy names, but we agree that the five-petaled yellow one with the purple veins is our favorite. As I leave, I turn the plant to make sure the blossoms face her, knowing that my mother will take pleasure in their beauty and be reminded of happier times.

‘Where Is Joe Biden?’ According to Some Strategists, Letting Trump Beat Himself.

The COVID-19 pandemic has given rise to the hyper-visible politician: New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo projects confidence every day at 11:30 a.m., sparking crushes from so-called "Cuomosexuals". For better or worse, President Trump owns the evening news cycle with his bloviating briefings, shamelessly touting his "great ratings." But where does the new clime leave presumptive Democratic nominee for president Joe Biden? It's a question dividing the party he now officially leads.

For some, Biden is failing to mount a forceful, inspiring response to the crisis, appearing absent compared to Trump (or Cuomo). "Somewhere around the 13th coronavirus press conference that I was being forced to watch Trump give, I was like, 'Where's my guy?'" Elie Mystal, justice correspondent at The Nation and author of a recent op-ed entitled "Joe Biden Needs to Start Acting Like a Presidential Candidate," told Vogue. "Give me some kind of alternative vision for what this country could and should look like."

For others, Biden is taking a more measured approach that is entirely on-brand for the elder statesman. "He's modeling exactly the kind of leadership that people would like to be seeing from the White House—calm, cool, collected, and connected to what people are going through," said Democratic strategist Greg Pinelo, pointing to a recent video of the Bidens Zooming with their grandkids. "He's showing America the kind of steady hand that we're still going to need on January 21st, 2021."

And there are a few positive signs that Biden's laid-back approach might be working for now: In March, the Biden campaign raised $46.7 million, its best-ever monthly total, and more than three times than the $13.6 million the Trump campaign raised over the same period. (Still the former vice president still lags considerably behind Trump when it comes to available cash on hand, $26.4 million to $98.5 million, based on Federal Election Commission disclosures.)

The unprecedented virtual 2020 race means the former vice-president is campaigning under quarantine from his home in Wilmington, Del., where his team initially struggled with glitchy Internet connection issues, leading Biden to lay low. "I've had a lot of people ask me online, every single day, 'where is Joe Biden?'" MSNBC's Yasmin Vossoughian asked the candidate in a March 30 interview. "Are you making yourself visible enough, especially during this crisis?"

Biden's campaign has since set him up with a remote studio with much improved production value (as seen in the joint livestream when Bernie Sanders endorsed him earlier this month), enabling the former-vice-president to conduct virtual town halls and schmooze with donors via Zoom fundraisers. He penned an op-ed in the New York Times outlining his (mostly intuitive) plan to reopen America; his campaign tweets about abysmal unemployment numbers and the lack of COVID tests under Trump. Biden is still making the talk show rounds, appearing before the backdrop of his tastefully-lined bookshelf on shows like Meet the Press, The Late Late Show with James Corden and The Lead with Jake Tapper, as well doing interviews with local affiliates in places like Pittsburgh and Milwaukee.

But some progressives say Biden's tone is too safe and subdued, leaving them longing for a stronger, more stirring message, especially in a time of crisis. "Americans, and Democrats in particular, are really hungry for leadership, and a leader is not a man who does one-off interviews saying ‘Listen to the experts,'" said Monica Klein, founder of women-run political consulting firm Seneca Strategies. 'Listen to the experts' is not a rallying cry for a political party, and it's not going to energize Democrats or bring over swing voters."

As the pandemic brings structural inequities into sharper focus—from healthcare to protections for essential workers and the virus's disproportionate impact on the African-American and Latinx communities—there is growing impatience for Biden to make a bold, inspiring statement about how the pandemic will affect the Democratic platform. ("He should have a vision about how he wants to change things so that we...have social resilience from a phenomenon like this," New York Times Magazine writer Emily Bazelon opined on Slate's Political Gabfest earlier this month).

"Biden is now the titular leader of the Democratic party," Mystal said, "but he doesn't seem willing to share a more full and rich and equal vision of what America could be."

It would benefit Biden to be "planning towards a revelatory, be-all, end-all speech about what this pandemic has taught us," said Alyssa Mastromonaco, the former deputy chief of staff under President Obama tasked with overseeing the federal response to crises like Hurricane Sandy. "It could be his moment to unify the whole party, because you can't talk about what's happened now and not include Medicare for All and the healthcare system."

But Mastromonaco, co-host of Crooked Media's Hysteria podcast, also notes the historic imitations of campaigning from home. "If it were any other election cycle, you could go out, give a really commanding speech, lay out everything that Biden has already laid out, and have a very presidential moment," she said. "The problem is no one's really presidential on Zoom."

It's one of many challenges Biden faces in a virtual campaign for which there is no playbook. Another, according to several Democrats who are supportive of his COVID-19 campaign strategy: Biden no longer holds elected office, removing him from the traditional power structure and the flow of information. It could be easy to mock Biden for inserting himself into the daily briefing game a la Trump or Cuomo. Like it or not, “We have one president at a time in this country," Pinelo said.

Biden seems acutely aware of engaging in partisan politicking as usual in the midst of a deadly pandemic, as evidenced by his April 7 call to Trump. "That reflects a piece of him which is this old-school politician who is thinking about the best for the country, not overly politicizing a crisis," said Jennifer Epstein, a Bloomberg News political reporter covering Biden 2020 campaign,

But Biden is still running against a volatile president—and by some estimates, not aggressively enough. Mystal is in favor of Biden countering Trump with daily press conferences of his own, attacking "the 10 dumbest things that Trump said this hour," correcting his many inaccuracies and making a household name of Ron Klain, the Obama-era Ebola response coordinator guiding Biden on the crisis. "He's got the Ebola czar on his speed dial," Mystal said, "but he won't put them into a Zoom frame."

To Jennifer Palmieri, former White House communications director for President Obama and author of the forthcoming book, She Proclaims, it would be a mistake for Biden to clamor for more airtime, or attempt to go tête-à-tête with the wild-card president. "You can't out-Trump Trump," she said—and as head of communications for Hillary Clinton's 2016 campaign, Palmieri would know.

In fact, Epstein notes that Biden does do daily or near-daily livestreams, including youth town halls and chats with medical professionals, including a podcast and a video with Klain, but they often aren't flashy enough to compete with Trump's (and Cuomo's). Buried in a Zoom fundraiser this week, Epstein said, Biden hinted at the structural inequities progressives want to hear him speak about: “I believe...the blinders have been taken off because of this COVID crisis," Biden said. "People are realizing, my lord, look at what is possible. Look at the institutional changes we can make without us becoming a socialist country...We have a chance to really move the ball forward in the next three or four years." The comments failed to make headlines.

Some argue Biden doesn't need to directly attack Trump; that he could simply sit back and let him self-destruct. Exhibit A: The president's off-the-rails performance at the White House press briefing on Thursday, where he claimed sunlight could kill coronavirus and suggested that COVID-19 patients might have disinfectant injected into their lungs as a possible treatment. Those statements caused widespread horror and derision on news channels not named Fox and even prompted a hastily issue statement from Reckitt Benckiser, the parent company of Lysol: "As a global leader in health and hygiene products, we must be clear that under no circumstance should our disinfectant products be administered into the human body (through injection, ingestion or any other route)." Moments like these, and there have been plenty over the past few weeks, have encouraged Biden supporters into believing that Trump may well be doing a pretty good job of torpedoing his 2020 campaign all by himself. (Biden did weigh in the next day, tweeting, "I can't believe I have to say this, but please don't drink bleach.")

But Palmieri cautions against the "watch him implode" approach, as scandals from impeachment to the infamous Access Hollywood tape fail to topple the president. Still, she'd advise Biden stick to positive talking points and let surrogates undercut Trump: "'Be the change you want to see,'" she said, "and let someone else tell the story of how badly Trump is screwing this up."

That "someone else" could soon be the female vice-presidential candidate Biden has promised to pick. The shortlist reportedly includes Sens. Kamala Harris, Elizabeth Warren, and Amy Klobuchar; former Georgia gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams and Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer. Whoever Biden's female running-mate may be, Palmieri said, she could step in as "an attack dog."

Choosing his female running-mate will give the Biden campaign a jolt of energy and a definitive breakthrough in the crowded, coronavirus-dominated news cycle. But like the convention and the campaign itself, the VP selection process and announcement are now in flux. The VP announcement typically comes on the eve of the Democratic National Convention, which has been postponed from July to August. Whether Biden will announce his choice virtually (in 2008, Obama unveiled Biden via text message and email) or hold out for a live, side-by-side splash depends on how long COVID lockdowns last.

"My guess would be that they go sooner and potentially via Zoom or online if the VP nominee has a very strong digital presence"—think Warren, Abrams, or Harris, Mastromonaco said. Picking Whitmer could come later, to give her time to focus on Michigan’s recovery.

According to Epstein, the Biden campaign is starting to test contenders virtually— Klobuchar, Harris and Whitmer have been guests on his podcast and Harris and Klobuchar appeared in virtual town halls and fundraisers—but Biden may also conduct face-to-face meetings. "I can't imagine he'd make such an important choice without testing out their chemistry," she said, "and not just over Facetime."

In the mean time, campaigning in the shadow of a pandemic, "there is literally no easy or obvious choice for Joe Biden right now," Mastromonaco said.

To underwhelmed critics, Biden is missing an opportunity to inspire voters and push for big policy changes: "He's failing to be a leader before becoming president," Klein said. But supporters believe Biden's slow-and-steady approach could win the race. After all, Biden won a decisive primary victory on the promise of being a kind of soothing, post-Trump palate cleanser. "The core message is: Make America normal again," Doyle McManus, Washington columnist for the Los Angeles Times, told Vogue.

McManus titled a recent column: "Joe Biden is stuck in his basement. It just might help him win." Biden may be one of the few candidates for whom this is true. After 50 years in public service, some say Biden is so well-established in voters' minds, he's beyond dominating Twitter or competing for relevance in daily briefings.

"There is a level of support, love and knowledge about Joe Biden in the country," Palmieri said, "and it's not going anywhere."

Here’s What to Know About the Coronavirus Pandemic Today

As more facts and figures emerge around the pandemic COVID-19 in the days ahead, Vogue will be pinpointing exactly what you need to know each morning.

Below, here are the latest updates.

For official information on coronavirus prevention, please visit the World Health Organization or Centers for Disease Control and Prevention websites.

Today, for the first time since the virus was discovered, there have been no new reported cases of the coronavirus in China.

Union Square Hospitality Group chief executive Danny Meyer was forced to lay off nearly 2,000 employees yesterday in light of dire revenue losses from the closures of all of his restaurants.

An E.U. commissioner is asking users of streaming platforms like Netflix to refrain from streaming videos in high resolution in order to prevent internet congestion.

Amazon has closed one of its delivery centers in Queens, New York, after an employee there tested positive for COVID-19.

President Trump said he would be calling on a wartime law, the Defense Production Act, in order to direct civilian businesses to start making medical supplies (including ventilators) and other necessary products.

The president also shared details as to the $1 trillion stimulus package, which includes $500 billion in direct payments to taxpayers and $500 billion in loans for businesses.

As of this morning, there are more than 220,000 cases of the novel coronavirus worldwide.

Has the Women's March Changed, Or Have We?

It's difficult to find the words to describe the energy crackling in the air at the 2017 Women's March without being trite, or overly sentimental. It was the biggest single-day protest in American history, with over a million people attending marches nationwide. The pure human and emotional volume might have been overwhelming, but it also felt—in the best way possible—like a primal scream, a collective exhalation from a country devastated by the election of an alleged serial sexual assaulter and harasser.

Three years later, the Women's March has been the subject of numerous controversies. Infighting about, among other things, anti-Semitism and the Israeli/Palestinian conflict has plagued its board, and critics have since observed that the "pussyhat feminism" of the original event centered the experiences and feelings of cis white women, approximately 52% of whom voted for Trump.

As with any social movement, it's difficult to pinpoint exactly when the establishment-feminist sentiment surrounding the Women's March began to feel anachronistic. Undaunted, though, the March continues, with its fourth annual gathering planned for Saturday morning in Washington, D.C. (As in past years, there are additional rallies taking place around the country.) In an attempt to figure out what the role of the Women's March is in 2020, Vogue spoke to five women who attended the original D.C. march in 2017 about that day and what activism looks like for them now.

On the first Women's March in D.C.

A. Parker Ruhl, physician: I grew up in the D.C. area, coming to the mall for the Fourth of July, used to thinking I’d seen it full. I have never experienced anything like the mass of people that day.

Jaya Saxena, writer: I went with my mom and some of our cousins, who were based in the D.C. suburbs. I initially wasn't sure if I wanted to go, but my mom really wanted to and, like a lot of people, we were just so unmoored by the election that we wanted to make some sort of statement. It was wonderful to be there with family of multiple generations. And I have to say, the realization that everyone on the Metro was headed to the march and that we couldn't get up the stairs fast enough to let more people in was really inspiring. There were just so many people and so much energy. I know there are a lot of criticisms about what the march was and has become, but I never want to discount what that day was like both in D.C. and around the country. There were a lot of people whose politics I disagreed with there, but the point was opposing Trump, and seeing the turnout made me feel like any other conversations we needed to have were possible.

On choosing not to return to a Women's March after 2017

Emily Gaudette, writer: I now canvas for political candidates I believe in, I joined a mentoring volunteer group to work with kids in Queens, and I text and phone bank for Bernie Sanders. I also donate every month to Progressives Everywhere, and I’ve become much more involved in reading socialist literature and theory, but the Women’s March just seemed too scattered.

Molly Breitbart, development associate: I did not [return to a Women's March.] Partially because I'm anxious and don't fare well in crowds to begin with. But more so, I felt dismayed by the fracturing of the movement in years following the original march. Of course, the first effort wasn't perfect—but I was disheartened when, instead of galvanizing and earnestly trying to rectify the previous years' insensitivities and missteps, activists became defensive. Between the inability to ensure visibility for the priorities of the trans community, WOC, and others, and the competing marches that ultimately took place in New York last year after much controversy, the initial unity and mutual respect that the march's founders and participants aimed to foster had splintered irreparably. Perhaps I'm naive and it was never there in the first place; and I know that I'm speaking from a place of privilege (as a white, financially secure cis woman).

But I still firmly believe that there remains a common enemy: in misogyny, in racism, homophobia, xenophobia, and sexism. In oppression. And that there is enough room for all experiences to be recognized and advocated for—to do so, we must to be willing to compromise and champion one another.

On the 2020 Women's March and beyond

Cristela Alonzo, actress/writer/producer: I’m back to the Women’s March this year because this marks the 100th anniversary of the year women got the right to vote. I find the Women’s March is the place to celebrate that and remind each other that our voice/vote matters during this important election year. I once again feel like this is a moment in history happening before my eyes.

Saxena: Since I went to the Women's March I've figured out ways to become politically involved that work well for me. I've kept up a habit of regularly contacting all my reps about issues I care about, from Chuck Schumer to my assemblywoman. I've gotten really involved in labor organizing, especially for freelance media workers. I try to bring issues I'm passionate about into my writing. I did phone banking for Beto when he ran for Senate because I hate Ted Cruz (the biggest betrayal of my life was Beto running for president instead of trying to get Cruz out again). I've gone to smaller marches and demonstrations around my city around specific issues like keeping Amazon out of LIC and protecting trans people. And I donate what I can to some charities.

It's absolutely not enough, it's never enough, but if anything it's become more of a natural part of who I am and how I live my life. My politics is no longer a separate category of myself.