“Gay people aren’t straight before they come out as gay, and transgender people are who they are before they come out and transition.” – Rep. Sarah McBride

This truth is not a new one. Across centuries and across borders, queer and trans people have lived, loved, and resisted. Their existence has always been part of the human story, even when societies have tried to erase it. You can take away rights, but you cannot stop people from being authentic and whole.

The first recorded same-sex couple comes from ancient Egypt in 2450 BCE. Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum were royal manicurists buried together in a single tomb. On its walls they are depicted embracing and kissing.

Jump forward several thousand years, and across more LGBTQ ancestors, and in 19th-century New York City, Murray Hall lived for decades as a man. He was a fixture in the city’s political circles, a gambler, a drinker, and a bail bondsman with connections in Tammany Hall. He married and divorced multiple women, sometimes amid accusations of infidelity. His life was complicated, ordinary, messy, and human. When he died in 1901, newspapers sensationalized the revelation that he had unexpected anatomy, turning his life into a scandal. Today, his life is remembered because he dared to live it.

It is important to honor those who lived their truths loudly and boldly, speaking in powerful ways that changed the world when they could have remained silent. James Baldwin wrote and spoke with piercing insight, exposing America’s lies and offering a vision of justice rooted in love and truth. Pedro Zamora used reality television in the 1990s to educate a generation about HIV and AIDS, bringing compassion and clarity into homes across the country. Both lived with courage that cost them dearly. And still living folks continue living with that boldness, breaking new barriers. From Janet Mock to Artemis Langford to Brenda Biya to Carl Nassib, LGBTQ people continue to live their lives authentically, each in turn breaking ground.

Sometimes that kind of courage has been resistance enough. Other times, queer and trans people have been called into larger struggles. Willem Arondéus, a Dutch artist and author, was one of them. During World War II, he forged identity papers to protect Jewish neighbors and helped plan the bombing of Amsterdam’s population registry when the forged papers failed. When he and his companions were arrested, Arondéus claimed full responsibility, saving the lives of two young doctors who had joined him in the work. Before his execution in 1943, he left behind these words: “Let it be known that homosexuals are not cowards.” His courage reminds the world that resistance takes many forms, sometimes survival and sometimes sacrifice.

We also remember the ancestors who lost their lives to violence along the way. Matthew Shepard’s murder in 1998 became a national turning point because his story fit the narrative of innocence within whiteness. His youth and the way the media described him shaped how his death was received. For many of us who grew up queer in Wyoming, the death of our peer changed how we came out and lived our lives, but in doing the work of justice many of us also learned how many others are not remembered. Their lives are no less sacred. The selective way society chooses who to memorialize exposes how racism, transphobia, ableism, and class bias work together to determine which stories are silenced.

To honor LGBTQ History Month is to hold all these stories together. Pluralism insists that no single history is enough. To resist erasure requires remembering them all, carrying them all, and telling them all. When communities remember fully, they weave a fabric strong enough to hold every truth. This is how circles of belonging are widened. This is how resilience endures.

Here are a few other stories to look up this month as you remember and reflect.

• Frieda Belinfante (1904–1995): Dutch cellist, conductor, and member of the anti-Nazi resistance who disguised herself as a man to survive after Willem Arondéus’s execution.
• We’wha (1849–1896): Zuni lhamana (two-spirit person), cultural ambassador, weaver, and diplomat.
• Charlotte Cushman (1816–1876): American stage actress who lived openly in same-sex relationships, forming one of the earliest lesbian artistic circles in the United States.
• Stormé DeLarverie (1920–2014): Biracial butch performer, remembered as a fighter at Stonewall and later as a protector of queer communities.
• Gladys Bentley (1907–1960): Harlem Renaissance blues singer and pianist known for performing in tuxedos and singing lyrics that challenged gender and sexual norms.

Discussion Questions

1. Whose stories have been missing, and how can our community help bring them forward?
2. How should we confront the ways racism, sexism, homophobia, biphobia, ableism, transphobia, and other beliefs affect which stories we tell?
3. The essay names both everyday courage and larger acts of resistance. In what ways can we see and honor both kinds of resilience in the lives of LGBTQ people today?
4. What does pluralism look like for you as a spiritual or religious practice?
5. How do you live into pluralism in your own life or in the life of your fellowship or congregation?

Chalice Lighting for LGBT+ History Month

Today, we remember those who lived boldly,
the ones who resisted erasure,
the ones whose names we know,
and the countless others whose names were lost but whose lives still echo in ours.

This flame honors all LGBTQ ancestors and leaders
who carved their truth into history,
who resisted injustice,
who loved boldly,
and who made survival possible for those who came after them.

Let us remember, too, the ancestors close to our own stories.
Perhaps the aunt who lived for seventy-three years with her best friend,
the grandfather who came out only after death through a note,
a teacher, a neighbor, or a friend who carried their truth quietly.
Hold their names in your heart or speak them aloud into this circle of remembrance.

All: We remember you. We honor you. We carry you forward.