Roger Doughty’s Remarks from A Night of Pride 2025

Good evening, good evening, good evening! Every October, this amazing day comes around, this amazing day that I get to be with all of you. This amazing day when we come together to recognize outstanding leaders like Joe Hawkins, companies like Dolby and people like Audrey and Allison and John . . . this amazing day that I look forward to every single year. It’s also a day that I get to share with those who make so much of Horizons’ work possible: Horizons’ board of directors and – the best staff I’ve ever worked with.

A year ago when we gathered here – that was October 2024 – we all could see dark clouds rising, and we prayed we’d be spared the deluge.  Today, the storm rages all around us . . . we have, my friends, entered an acutely dangerous time. You may have noticed that we’re not calling tonight a “gala.” Yes, this remains absolutely a celebration. It’s a party. That’s not changed. What has changed is the world in which we live. We look around – what do we see?

A harder, meaner, scarier country. A country in which the government severs a suicide hotline for LGBTQ youth . . . abdicates leadership in a global fight against AIDS . . .  strips LGBTQ people out of the State Department’s human rights reports . . . chases down immigrants like criminals.

Our – country – is – on – fire. Right now. And I’m sorry for going on a little dark on you but this is the truth of the moment we’re in. Matches are being put to nearly everything we fought for. And we – LGBTQ people – are going to get singed – and let’s pray not worse.

There seems today to be only one truly meaningful question: “What do we do?” It’s what I hear everywhere. You probably do, too.

It can be very tempting simply to do the old duck and cover. It’s all just too awful to witness; we’re too powerless to do anything. I get that . . .  and that’s exactly how I feel some mornings, when crawling back into bed feels like the most rational thing in the world.

But then I think about the monumental stakes, about the generations of progress at risk. Then I think of all the LGBTQ nonprofits which Horizons has the privilege of supporting – and I know they’re not cowering under any covers. I think about El/La Para TransLatinas and the Transgender District, advocating for trans women, all with targets on their backs. I think about the Asylum Project or Oasis Legal, desperately working to keep our people from being deported back to certain persecution. Or all the groups struggling with budget cuts, or groups trying to protect our youth amidst the maelstrom.

They’re not backing down. Nor is Horizons Foundation. Nor, I know, will you.

So what do we do? What . . . do we do? I see four critical responses – and we need all four all the time. First, and perhaps most obviously, we fight . . . like . . . hell. That’s what queer organizations are doing dawn to dusk and on past midnight. That’s what Horizons is doing as well. With your support, we’ve increased funding for our annual community grantmaking by a million dollars. We’ve undertaken a campaign with our 150+ donor advisors to grant out an additional million dollars+ to LGBTQ nonprofits. We’ve launched our nationally groundbreaking three-year initiative to build up trans groups grounded in communities of color.

So fight like hell. The first and single most important thing. Second: we save whatever we can. This is already so hard on LGBTQ nonprofits – we know groups – good organizations – that have had to cut their staffs by a third, even where staff are working for no pay. The truth is that not all of the organizations we love and support are necessarily going to make through this prolonged crisis, no matter what we do. Yet there’s a lot – a lot – that we can do – that we can save. That’s why Horizons will be making more grants and larger grants this year than ever before – and it’s why you – every one of you . . . every one of us, has a chance to fill a bucket and help fight the flames.

Together with thousands – millions – of others over more than 50 years – you – we – have done something heroic, something that no self-respecting gambler would ever have bet on. Not only did we win once-unthinkable equality, but we’ve built an entire eco-system of nonprofit organizations to advocate for our rights, meet our community’s needs, to boast a wildly vibrant culture – and we can’t afford to lose it.  Let me be clear: they want to destroy it. We can’t let queer arts wither, nor the legal services that protect us, nor all the services that work for us because they were created by us. We can’t leave our youth, or our elders, without places to turn.

We save whatever we can.

The third thing we do: we keep our eyes out for new ideas, new strategies, new alliances, new opportunities. Just months into this unspooling national nightmare, we’re still largely in what I call “the reeling stage.” Our community, our movement – much like others – we’re fighting back – and just trying to figure out how we not only fight but overcome this singular monster. Make no mistake, we’re not helpless. I see a hundred points of resistance, and I know with complete certainty that more will emerge  with time. Part of our job right now is to be sure we’re not so lost in distress and despair that we fail to see them.

The fourth thing we must do? (And this one is truly a “must.”) We remember to celebrate – to embrace who we are, the spectacular creativity and diversity and brilliance and courage that define our community. As others have said in one way or another, we protest during the day so we can dance at night – and we dance at night, so, when we need to, we can fight the next day.

They don’t get to define who we are. To them, our love is sin; our families unholy; our youth deluded. It’s as if our equality is like their call to arms . . . our freedom like their Armageddon. And even if we lose every battle – which we won’t – but even if we lose every battle, they cannot take away our joy in community – our pride in community. They can’t – and must never be allowed – to stop us from dancing.

               Fight like hell.
               Save everything we can.
               Keep our eyes open.
               Remember to dance.

And there is one more thing we can – that we must do – and that is to build relentlessly for the future. Let’s – finally – learn from our enemies, who’ve built seemingly unassailable institutions – because they started doing it decades ago. Decades and decades. I know it’s hard to look ahead toward the future, toward the horizon, when there’s a pack of wolves at the door. But if we don’t, I guarantee that the wolves will keep coming, year after year, decade after decade, generation on generation.

That’s why Horizons is so committed to building long-term resources, including permanent resources, for our community. Those of you who’ve come to our galas before know that every year I talk about this – because it is that important. We can change the world through legacy (or planned) giving, simply through what Royce and I, and Dipti and Meggy, Shilpen and Yuming, scores of you, and thousands – thousands – of others can do simply through our estate plans. Then we can be ready, whatever wolves come our way.

Over these years working at a community foundation, I sometimes ask myself, what makes a community great? Pride, for one thing – pride without arrogance. A rich culture. An absolute ethic that no one gets left behind. And, perhaps more than anything else, a commitment to future generations. And that’s exactly what legacy giving is all about.

In 20, 30, 40 years, what might those future generations see that you did – that I did – in today’s great struggle?  Let’s remember who we are. If you ever did anything

• to help win marriage equality, or any other of our rights,
• or stop the Briggs Initiative,
• or you painted a poster and marched through the streets,
• or held the hand of someone with AIDS when nobody else cared,
• or helped a young person learn to love themselves,
• or you simply accepted nothing second-class . . . 

then if someone from a future queer generation were to ask you what you did you do to bring about that day when we are truly equal and finally free . . . you will be able to say that you did your part. . . . that you stood up . . . . you met hatred with unbendable will. . . . that when the flames erupted back in 2025, you went to the line and picked up a bucket . . . . or that, like so many of you in this room tonight, you gave . . . and you gave again . . .and again and again and again.

For that, I thank you. For that, I’m certain that every one of the thousands who benefit from Horizons’ work throughout the year, thanks you, too. And though I cannot speak for them, please know . . . know deep down, that generations to come will thank you, too.  And finally, please know . . . know deep down . . . from all of us at Horizons Foundation:  thank you . . . thank you . . . thank you.