logo
Historic battlefields listed among endangered sites thanks to data centers and more headlines

Historic battlefields listed among endangered sites thanks to data centers and more headlines

Yahoo23-05-2025

The state Capitol. (Photo by Ned Oliver/Virginia Mercury)
• 'For state police job, recruiters handed Youngkin a 'superstar' candidate. He hired an insider instead.' — Richmond Times-Dispatch
• 'Corporations pull sponsorships from Virginia's largest Pride event.' — Axios Richmond
• 'Virginia renters make modest gains from lawmakers in the General Assembly.' — Virginia Center for Investigative Journalism at WHRO
• 'Gov. Youngkin announces $16.9M investment in workforce housing, Harrisonburg, Winchester among recipients.' — WHSV
• 'Preservation Virginia lists historic battlefields among endangered sites thanks to data centers.' — Inside NoVa
SUBSCRIBE: GET THE MORNING HEADLINES DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

'Part of the community'
'Part of the community'

Yahoo

time4 hours ago

  • Yahoo

'Part of the community'

Jun. 22—PULLMAN — For 14-year-old Obsidian Hunt, Saturday's Pride celebration was a joyful opportunity for connection. Their favorite part, Hunt said, was the rally they helped lead before parading downtown to Reaney Park. "(Pride) makes me feel like I'm actually a part of the community," Hunt said. "It makes me feel a little bit more comfortable with who I am and it makes me feel more empowered to be who I am rather than what society wants me to be." The celebration was the first of two Pride events in Pullman this month. Organizer Diana Whitney said including a rally felt important because of the historical and ongoing discrimination against the LGBTQ+ community. "Back when HIV and AIDS was killing everybody and mostly being ignored by the mainstream, there was a saying that they used to say. It was, 'You bury your friends in the morning, you protest in the afternoon, and then you dance all night.' We're in no way at that point of time anymore, but this last year has been excruciating." Whitney, who has a transgender grandchild, referenced one example of current challenges to queer people in Wednesday's Supreme Court ruling that upheld a Tennessee ban on gender-affirming health care for minors. Numerous sources, including a report commissioned by the Utah Legislature, which passed a ban on gender-affirming care for youth two years ago, have concluded that access to gender-affirming care was associated with positive mental health outcomes. Chris Albano said he recently began to be more open about his identity and experience. "I actually am transgender. I choose to be generally private about that, but I'm coming more and more to the understanding that people need to understand that there are a lot more of us than are open (about our identity) in society," Albano said. As a child, Albano said, stories of LGBTQ+ people like Matthew Shepherd, who was beaten, tortured and left for dead in an anti-gay hate crime, kept him from coming out. "I want a better world for young people," Albano said. "I've gotta use my voice to make that happen." Melissa Johnson came as a member of a support group called Queers with Kids. The group originated from parents who wanted to ensure their children would have a support system of other youth with LGBTQ+ parents. "(It was) so they could see that their family wasn't the only one who looked different from their peers," Johnson said. "They also have a unique experience that's worth being validated and celebrated." Daily headlines, straight to your inboxRead it online first and stay up-to-date, delivered daily at 7 AM Organizers made a special point to make the event inclusive for families and children, Whitney said. Anne Brown helped organize the youth portion of the events. She said her own child came out roughly a year ago. Brown said she wanted to create a space where children felt their voices were heard. "There's a lot of anxiety (for queer kids)," she said. "To be in a space where you can interact with all these people who are from your community and who are safe and happy to see you be who you are, like, that's really meaningful." Some of the activities included a button-making station where children could draw designs for their own personalized buttons. Brown showed off photos of some of the younger attendees' handiwork, including one with a drawing of cats and the slogan "Sounds gay, I'm in," and another with the words, "Always existed, always will." Brown said she wants more people to learn about the community before judging it. "Listen, listen, listen, listen, as much as you can," she said. "I think once you actually get to know this community and these people, it's hard to be afraid." Abby Catena, 14, had a table at the Pride event, giving away queer-inclusive books from Bruised Books in Pullman. Many of the books don't explicitly focus on a character's LGBTQ+ identity, Catena said, but help to normalize their existence. "Queer people (are) not some magical creature you've never met," Catena said. "It's just like, a common thing." Over 100 people attended the rally and celebration in the park. Next weekend, on June 29, the Pullman Pride Fest is planned for 1-5 p.m. at Reaney Park. The groups organizing the two events plan on joining forces next year. Sun may be contacted at rsun@ or on Twitter at @Rachel_M_Sun. This report is made in partnership with Northwest Public Broadcasting, the Lewiston Tribune and the Moscow-Pullman Daily News.

The Latino police chief championing inclusion in Massachusetts
The Latino police chief championing inclusion in Massachusetts

Boston Globe

time2 days ago

  • Boston Globe

The Latino police chief championing inclusion in Massachusetts

Quesada's commitment to inclusion extends beyond Swampscott. He's Advertisement For Quesada, a fourth-generation Mexican American who spent most of his career in Arizona, arriving in Massachusetts was like a literal cold plunge. The frigid weather was one thing, but realizing that the blue state doesn't necessarily live up to its national reputation as a progressive bastion was something else entirely. Prior to his Swampscott appointment, Quesada was the deputy chief of police at Northern Essex Community College in Haverhill, the job for which he moved to Massachusetts in the first place in 2020. Advertisement When he first arrived in the area, 'I remember seeing very few women in policing,' Quesada told me. And he remembers noticing that some departments still used 'policemen' instead of 'officers' or a more inclusive label. Last year, Quesada noted proudly, the Swampscott police had its first all-female patrol shift in the history of the department. Inclusivity shows up in other ways, too. 'We celebrate almost everything in this department,' Quesada said. 'St. Patrick's Day, Pride, Armed Forces. So I said, 'Let's have a Black History Month patch, too.' ' The latter one is a commemorative patch to be worn by officers on their uniforms and features a prominent, embroidered portrait of Martin Luther King Jr. framed by the red, yellow, and green colors that symbolize Pan-African unity. The patch also displays the date 'June 19th, 1865,' or Juneteenth, the holiday marking the emancipation of some of the last enslaved African Americans in the United States. 'That patch was designed by a local Black Metco student,' Quesada said. Quesada also brings a critical perspective to the fraught intersection of immigration and policing: He understands what it means to be seen as 'other' in his own country, even while serving it and even as someone whose Mexican American family has had roots for generations in Arizona. He's worn the uniform, navigated the tension between law enforcement and immigrant communities, and witnessed firsthand how policy decisions play out on the ground — especially during Advertisement Amid increased activity from the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency in Massachusetts, Quesada is quick to point out that local police departments are not responsible for federal immigration enforcement. 'Local law enforcement and municipalities are already strained in personnel and resources simply trying to meet current public safety needs. … If we local law enforcement were to 'target' undocumented immigrants, whose interests and power are we serving to protect? It would run counter to any mission statement, values, and ideals of any PD in the country.' But he also points out that 'We cannot obstruct, hinder, or impede other law enforcement operations' — meaning that when ICE comes into communities, the police can't stop them. The national task force, which includes law enforcement leaders from across the country, In today's political climate, when immigrant communities are living in fear, and diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives are under attack from the highest levels of government, Quesada's presence in law enforcement is more than symbolic. It's a powerful statement. His unapologetic embrace of DEI principles, rooted in personal experience and professional conviction, is both bold and necessary. Advertisement Two Swampscott Police Department commemorative patches honoring Pride month and Black History Month and Juneteenth. MARCELA GARCÍA/GLOBE STAFF Marcela García is a Globe columnist. She can be reached at

As a gay man, I'm finally flying a pride flag. I don't know what took so long.
As a gay man, I'm finally flying a pride flag. I don't know what took so long.

USA Today

time2 days ago

  • USA Today

As a gay man, I'm finally flying a pride flag. I don't know what took so long.

As a gay man, I'm finally flying a pride flag. I don't know what took so long. | Opinion Having witnessed one attempt after another by the current administration to erase LGBTQ+ people, I'm no longer OK with being a quiet gay. Show Caption Hide Caption WorldPride marched through DC for Pride month, in defiance of Trump WorldPride, The global festival promoting LGBTQ+ visibility, held it's anniversary parade in D.C. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've never bought a pride flag, much less displayed one, in my 60-some years. I've been gay for all those years, and openly, publicly so for almost all of them, but have never flown the rainbow flag. But recently, lost in thought on my front lawn here in a small town in central North Carolina, I looked up at the American flag I fly from the front porch. Five years ago, I wrote why I decided to hang the Stars and Stripes, reclaiming it as a flag of all the people, not just some. I remember thinking I was making a statement about inclusion, equality under the law and, yes, patriotism. No one, no political party, should hold the U.S. flag hostage. When people ask me where I live, I proudly tell them, 'It's the house with the Stars and Stripes. You can't miss it.' A friend's flag helped me find a reason to show my pride Then, my neighbor and friend Pier Carlo Talenti, also a gay man, posted a photo of his charming cottage with a big pride flag hung on the front porch, seeming to wave at anyone passing by. He wrote, 'For the first time ever, I'm flying a Pride flag.' And then he went on to tell us why. Talenti was angry that the Department of Defense had decided to rename the USNS Harvey Milk, erasing the gay civil rights leader from the Navy vessel that has borne it since 2021. Milk was assassinated in 1978 because of his sexual orientation; Talenti was sure the announcement of the change had been made specifically to coincide with Pride Month. 'So petty and hateful,' he wrote. He added, 'I need my neighbors who … represent a broad political spectrum (to understand) that there's a gay man living and working here and making their community better. America belongs to all of us.' In just a few hours, dozens of his friends and neighbors had commented, all of them echoing this one: 'I support this message.' A friend in Washington, DC, added, 'Maybe a few of your friends will even join you.' Well, it didn't take long. A Louisville friend posted, 'We've never flown flags either until now. We've got one, too.' That's when I went online and purchased what's known as the 'Progress Pride Flag," which includes five half-size stripes in an arrow shape representing trans and nonbinary individuals, marginalized communities of color and those living with HIV/AIDS on top of the traditional rainbow flag. That particular flag makes a clear statement in support of everything the Trump administration has tried to erase. Opinion: I wrote a book on finding joy. Even now, it's easier than you think. Trump administration trying to erase LGBTQ+ community President Donald Trump and Republicans have made their own statement on the LGBTQ+ community. It started with Trump's anti-transgender attacks, central to his reelection campaign in 2024. Once back in the Oval Office, he called on Congress to pass a bill stating that there are "only two genders' and signed an executive order in January halting federal funding for hormonal and surgical intervention for trans minors. Erased. Anti-trans decision: Supreme Court turned its back on trans youth. Our community never will. | Opinion Then, Trump fired members of the Kennedy Center Board of Trustees, became chairman and canceled all the events planned to celebrate LGBTQ+ rights for June's World Pride festival in the nation's capital. Erased. Not having done enough damage, Trump has now banned transgender people from serving in the military. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced that he'd scrub the name of the USNS Harvey Milk, who served as a Navy operations officer on rescue submarines during the Korean War then went on to become the first openly gay man elected to public office in California. If all that wasn't enough, the administration announced plans to end a suicide hotline explicitly created for LGBTQ+ youth. Why haven't I flown a pride flag before? But it made me wonder why I had never done this before. I have been writing about LGBTQ+ issues for decades: books, columns, public talks. I'm no shrinking violet (one of the seven colors in the rainbow flag, and one of many more on some of the newer variations). My identity is no secret. Still, I had my reasons for not identifying my house. I live not far from Ku Klux Klan country, and in recent years KKK members have visited our town, white robes flowing and Confederate flags flying. They've made threats. They've left abhorrent literature on people's front porches. A 2019 invasion frightened many in town, especially my Black and Brown neighbors, who witnessed a hate they thought belonged to another time. I'd been fearful, too, and did not want my house to become a target. As a journalist, I'd already faced a home invasion from a reader who stalked me online for months, finally deciding to confront me by trying to break down my front door. This was in 2018, just before five journalists were killed in Annapolis, Maryland. There was another reason, too, which has only congealed for me. Over the years ‒ decades ‒ I'd changed. At one time, I had enthusiastically and regularly marched in San Francisco Pride, but I hadn't participated in years. I'd once lived in the Castro District (one of this nation's gay meccas), but I'd moved to the suburbs and then to North Carolina. I had once been single, but I'd married my husband and committed to our two dogs. My god, I even got rid of the flashy fake diamond stud that I'd sported for many years. Was it just age, my older self not being as out there as my younger one? Or had something else happened, and I just wasn't 'that kind of gay' anymore? I wasn't even sure what that meant, but it seemed I'd become the kind of gay who didn't hang a pride flag from his front porch. Well, I am again. Like Talenti and other friends, it's time for me to step it up. Having witnessed one attempt after another by the current administration to erase LGBTQ+ people, I'm no longer OK with being a quiet gay. It's time to be a more visible and vocal member of our community ‒ to be counted and to be seen. I've said for many years that I refuse to let fear drive how I live, not realizing I'd already succumbed in this very important way. I think of others in the LGBTQ+ community who live lives at much greater risk than I do, thanks to their sexual identity and the color of their skin, and I know that I need to step into the light on behalf of those who must still live in the shadows. That's why I've hung the pride flag on my front porch, for everyone to see. It's a beacon in these dark times. Now, when people ask me where I live, I tell them, 'It's the house with the pride flag. You can't miss it.' Steven Petrow is a columnist who writes on civility and manners and the author of seven books, including 'The Joy You Make' and "Stupid Things I Won't Do When I Get Old." Follow him on Threads: @

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store