At a Tucson Anti-Mask Rally, Protesters Took a Page from the Anti-Abortion Playbook

Protest sign at rally against Ohio’s pandemic mitigation efforts. Photo: Becker1999, CC BY 2.0

There’s already plenty to file under “COVID-19 and Gender.” For months now, the media and academia have examined how patriarchy and public health have been at loggerheads over pandemic safety efforts, from the macho disregard for hand-washing recommendations to the militant, armed response to Michigan’s stay-at-home order in April.

Now Tucson takes its place in that growing file, thanks to a congressional candidate and his cohorts. While many spent Juneteenth and its neighboring days reflecting on the history of slavery and the systemic racism that remains today, others obsessed over a different notion of oppression.


Protesters used a confrontational tactic described as “intimidation” by Tucson’s mayor.


Joseph Morgan, who is running in the GOP primary to represent Arizona’s 2nd Congressional District, has spent recent weeks calling public health advocates “Big Brother” and characterizing Tucson city government as a monarchy. Along with that, he co-opted the “My Body, My Choice” dictum of the reproductive justice movement, a slogan he repurposed as a signal of noncompliance with public health advisories. Morgan is appalled at the idea that a deadly pandemic, which by the end of June had brought more than 119,000 deaths to the U.S., should merit any precautions that don’t fit his personal whims and anti-science politics.

Facing off Over Face Coverings: Harassing Tucson’s Mayor

On Thursday, June 18, Tucson Mayor Regina Romero signed a proclamation calling for the use of face masks in public, citing the alarming increase of COVID-19 cases in Pima County, from 2,382 at the beginning of the month to 4,329 at mid-month. In response to that rise, the proclamation mandated that Tucsonans follow CDC guidelines and use cloth face coverings to slow the spread of infections. Continue reading

The Price of Inaction on LGTBQ Homelessness

Infographic on the polar vortex. Image: National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

When the polar vortex hit the U.S. last month, sending temperatures down to record lows that hadn’t been seen in a generation, I was in my own vortex of thoughts and reactions. I felt a guilty pleasure at the warm weather we were enjoying here in Arizona. I groaned when President Trump, instead of expressing concern for the millions who would face below-freezing temperatures, seized the opportunity to tweet his doubts about “Global Waming (sic),” even though five seconds on Google could easily explain how extreme weather, both hot and cold, fits within the projections of climate change science.


A comprehensive look at homelessness examines laws and public policies that put many LGBTQ people on the streets.


I also resented the online trolls I’d encountered months before, when a caravan of asylum seekers was approaching our border, who argued that we should take care of our own homeless people before we let in any more immigrants. It was a cynical framing, that we could only care for one or the other — and where were their concerns for the homeless now, when people on the streets throughout the Midwest and parts of the Northeast were at risk of dying from exposure? With wind chill reaching 75 below in some places, the cold hit levels that could cause frostbite within minutes, in addition to hypothermia and difficulty breathing.

A lot of those trolls, I remembered, had mentioned homeless veterans in particular, to the exclusion of other homeless people. It added another layer of cynicism. If they cast their compassion too broadly, they might have to reconcile it with notions that blame the poor for their own poverty, as if shortcomings in work ethic or financial planning are the only culprits, and inherited wealth, the vagaries of the economy, and other factors play no role in where the chips fall for each of us.

There are other uncomfortable facts people push aside if they avoid taking a broader, more comprehensive look at homelessness. One glaring example is the collective responsibility for laws and public policies that put many LGBTQ people on the streets. Continue reading

The Past Isn’t Always in the Past: Covington Catholic and the Politics of Race and Gender at Southern Private Schools

Nathan Phillips (center) leads a dance at the Indigenous Peoples March. Image (detail): Joe Flood

It was hard to miss the video that went viral on the weekend of the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday.

On January 20, footage of a white high school student, flanked by his classmates as he stood in front of a Native American elder, took the news and social media by storm. The student stood at a close distance, wearing an apparent smirk below his “Make America Great Again” hat. The Native elder stood calmly but firmly, beating a small hand drum and singing over the noise from the student’s classmates, many of whom also sported the iconic red baseball caps of Trump supporters. One classmate appeared to taunt the Native elder with a gesture mocking a “tomahawk chop.”


The March for Life incident is a troubling reminder of a history that links segregated private schools to the anti-abortion movement.


The scene was from Washington, D.C., where students from Covington Catholic High School in Park Hills, Kentucky, were attending the anti-abortion March for Life. It was an event that coincided with an Indigenous Peoples March, a grassroots gathering of community leaders, celebrities, and activists to address the environmental and human rights issues facing Native American, First Nations, and other indigenous people.

The incident drew conflicting narratives as more footage was pieced together to show how Nick Sandmann, the Covington student, came face-to-face with Nathan Phillips, an Omaha elder, veteran, and activist. What gained general agreement was that tensions had first been elevated by verbal exchanges with another, smaller group identifying themselves as the Black Hebrew Israelites. A few members of that group could be seen subjecting the Covington students to inflammatory language and insults. Thereafter, people have been divided, often along partisan lines, on whether Sandmann or Phillips was the instigator of the face-off. Continue reading