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Friday, March 28, 2008
Taking hits on the rugby field for 20 years has probably prepared CANDACE GINGRICH for the rough-and-tumble world of political activism. Originally from Harrisburg, Pa., Candace became a household name among gays (and everyone else for a while) in the mid-’90s when she was “discovered” to be the sister of then-Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich. As he led a Republican revolution in the House that focused heavily on “family values,” Candace was approached by Elizabeth Birch of the Human Rights Campaign about working for the organization. Candace has been there ever since and now serves as senior youth outreach manager, working with gay and transgender youth on equality issues. She and her partner of two-and-a-half years live in Northeast Washington, and Candace can still be found playing rugby with the Washington Furies.
How long have you been out and who was the hardest person to tell?
1987, my third year of college and I had just found the rugby team and therefore myself. I don’t think I had to tell anyone — everyone just seemed to be waiting for me to figure things out.
Fictitious one is Molly Bolt. “Rubyfruit Jungle” is “The Catcher in the Rye” for coming-of-age dykes and I saw a lot of myself in Molly. My non-fiction hero is Elizabeth Birch — she brought amazing vision to HRC, like working with corporate America to advance GLBT equality in the workplace and tapping into the cyber world. And nobody was better at debating the bad guys — she went up against Bob Barr, the author of the Defense of Marriage Act and asked him “Which marriage are you trying to defend Congressman Barr — your first, your second or your third?”
Trumpets (aka Club Q, then Chaos) — ladies night on Wednesdays was a blast. They had the best brunch, too. And Aquia was the best server ever; she took great care of us every time.
Hell, yeah — while I think the “institution” is flawed in many ways, I also think I deserve all the rights and benefits that come with it. And we’ll be registering at REI, Trader Joe’s and Schneider’s of Capitol Hill.
The environment — what good is queer equality if we don’t have the earth anymore? It’s so simple to do things that make a difference in everyday life — no need to lobby or vote or march (though they are important) — just change a light bulb, walk/use public transportation, recycle, buy local produce, stop putting chemicals on your lawn. Just ask yourself “What Would Al Do?”
I still long wistfully for the White House that might have been sans the Florida chad-tastrophy in the 2000 elections.
The Space Shuttle Challenger explosion. … I was watching “Pee Wee’s Playhouse” — very surreal to have the silly world of Pee Wee, Pterry, Jambi, Miss Yvonne, Reba the mail lady and Cowboy Curtis interrupted by images of the shuttle exploding.
“Amish in the City.”
North Face down vest (not flannel, but close enough). Of course, I no longer fit into it but it sure looks cute on my girlfriend!
Well, my 1996 memoir was titled “The Accidental Activist,” but I’ve learned quite a bit about life and myself since then so maybe “The Deliberate Dyke” would work.
Not a damn thing.
Furies, hobbits and wizards. And Dementors, definitely Dementors.
Tacos, McDonald’s fries, cheese grits, butter pecan ice cream and Guinness.
Being on an episode of “The Simpsons.”
I hate that people think lesbians are bad tippers. And are rainbows a stereotype?
“The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
Shaving. Without a doubt.
Anything that involves some kind of headgear like a crown, tiara or antennae.
Learn your history. A lot has happened to get the queer community where it is today. Things are by no means perfect, but learn from those who came before you and use that power to educate yourself, your community and make change happen.
The commute from Harrisburg, Pa., would have been a bitch. But I have loved every minute I’ve lived here since ’95 — the location, history, nightlife, architecture, character and the pure entertainment of politics make it ideal. And I get to play rugby with the Furies!
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