Emily Saneski
University of Maryland School of Nursing

“Congratulations, Dr. cutie! You worked so hard to get to this day, and now, after 5 years (and 2 kids!), it’s finally here! I’m so proud of you. Happy graduation! You have a doctorate! Your patients are lucky to have you. Let’s celebrate! Love, Your IT guy and biggest fan.” – Matthew Dudley

Jaela Morris
University of Maryland Baltimore School of Social work.

Young Elder, a 23-year-old emerging social worker, earned her BSW from Coppin State University (‘24) and her MSW from the University of Maryland School of Social Work. She combines her passion for barbering and community healing through “Leadership Through Barbering,” now in its second cohort at Achievement Academy. As a mental health therapist intern at Billie Holiday Elementary and Katherine Johnson, she supports students’ emotional well-being. She currently offers affordable haircuts at Baltimore Unity Hall. Known for leading with EXTRA love, Young Elder is committed to helping Baltimore youth define success on their own terms through purpose and passion.

The post Congratulations Class of 2025 appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

Wednesday, June 18

Buttons of Freedom: Design and create your own Juneteenth-themed buttons while learning about the history and meaning of Juneteenth. 2 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. at Enoch Pratt Walbrook Library, 3203 W. North Avenue. For more information, go to calendar.prattlibrary.org. 

Thursday, June 19

Garden Hours with Jayswann feat. Black Grealish: Garden Hours is a free bi-weekly dance party series. Dance to the good vibes of house, ghettotech, and club music. Featuring Black Grealish. 8 p.m. to 11:30 p.m. at Current Space, Garden Bar, 421 N. Tyson Street. For more information, go to currentspace.com or email info@currentspace.com. 

Friday, June 20

Amazing Art Expo’s Anime Art Event: The Amazing Art Expo invites you to the Lord Baltimore Hotel for three days of anime and pop culture-inspired art and cosplay. Featuring actors David Sobolov and Warrington Gillette, and artist Nastiya G. 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. at Lord Baltimore Hotel, 20 W. Baltimore Street. For more information, go to amazingartexpo.com. 

Art After Hours: Solstice: Join the Baltimore Museum of Art in celebrating the summer solstice with an evening of rebirth and celebration. Meet photographer Devin Allen and Baltimore Beat editor-in-chief Lisa Snowden, watch a capoeira movement ceremony, and dance to good music by DJ MUSE(O)FIRE. 21+ ($25 BMA Members, $35 Non-Members) 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. at BMA Main Campus, 10 Art Museum Drive. For more information, go to artbma.org/event/art-after-hours-solstice. 

Gaza Thrift X Digital Xscape: This weekend, support the Gazawi mutual aid initiative and the Frederick Four legal defense fund with a daytime market and nighttime DJ set. Featuring Girlypop Princess, Kade Young, Babypuff, and NANAGOTCHI. 18+ ($15.03) 4 p.m. to 2 a.m. at Le Mondo Arts, 406 N. Howard Street. For more information, follow @gazathrift on Instagram.

“Stars and Portals” Exhibition Opening: Artists Adewale Alli and VILLAGER join artistic forces to create a “transcendent visual dialogue between cosmos and spirit.” 6 p.m. at Creative Alliance Amalie Rothschild Gallery, 3134 Eastern Avenue. For more information, go to creativealliance.org/events. 

Leather Dyke Pride: Dyke Nite Baltimore and Sanctuary present an event for sapphics and the wider LGBTQ+ community to dust off their leathers and dance the night away. Featuring pole dancing from Andre Shakti, Kira and more, and music by DJ Rosie. 21+ ($20) 10 p.m. at Ottobar, 2549 N. Howard Street. For more information, follow @dykenitebaltimore on Instagram or go to theottobar.com. 

Saturday, June 21

Whiskey on the Waterfront: Live music, food trucks, and whiskey cocktails. Noon to 6 p.m. at Sagamore Spirit Distillery, 301 E Cromwell Street. For more information, go to baltimorepeninsula.com.

AfroFutro: A Journey to the Golden Cloud Nebula: Join The Walters Art Museum for this special Afrofuturist performance by Afro House’s Astronaut Symphony. Led by Scott Patterson, this performance will explore love, liberation, and our relationship to Earth and the cosmos. Registration required. 2 p.m. to 3 p.m. at The Walters Art Museum, 600 N. Charles Street. For more information, go to thewalters.org/event/afrofutro. 

Queer Collage: Joy + Whimsy: Red Emma’s invites you to craft, laugh, and collaborate with others on your latest creative endeavor. All materials provided. Suggested donation of $1-10. 5:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. at Red Emma’s, 3128 Greenmount Avenue. For more information, go to redemmas.org/events, or email fernaurelius@gmail.com. 

Liber8 – A Juneteenth Celebration: Hosts Break A Leg and Black Techno Matters present a Juneteenth celebration. Featuring Tromac, flotussin, Rose Kourts, Dee Clark, cash.liss, DJ Dolla, Kotic Couture, and AceMo. 21+ ($22.85 – $34.30) 10 p.m. to 4:30 a.m. at The Compound, 2239 Kirk Avenue (22nd Street). For more information, go to ra.co/events/2172252. 

Sunday, June 22

Common Tone Summer Music Session: Common Tone invites kids and families to sing, dance, play instruments, and connect with your child. ($15) 10:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. at The Ivy Bookshop, Back Patio, 5928 Falls Road. For more information and where to sign up, go to theivybookshop.com/events. 

COLAB: Art and Music from Baltimore and Beyond – Gallery Talk: See and hear a gallery talk about African American art and music. With curator Hilary Pierce, guests can use their bluetooth listening device to fully experience the playlists paired to the chosen art pieces. 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. at Eubie Blake National Jazz Institute and Cultural Center, 847 N. Howard Street. For more information, go to eubieblake.org. 

Tides and Vibes: Aquatic Arts: An afternoon of free, hands-on, waterfront fun featuring food, drinks, games, and music. 3 p.m. to 7 p.m. at Port Covington Marina, 321 East Cromwell Street. For more information, go to baltimorepeninsula.com.

Tuesday, June 24

Black Music Month Concert Series with Keystone Korner: Warren Wolf: Enoch Pratt and Keystone Korner have partnered up to bring you sweet tunes in celebration of Black Music Month. Enjoy an evening of jazz with bandleader Warren Wolf. 6:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. at Enoch Pratt Central Library, 400 Cathedral Street. Registration required. For more information, go to calendar.prattlibrary.org. 

Thursday, June 26

“Black Earth Rising” Free Admission Day: This day will allow anyone to visit this exhibit for free. “Black Earth Rising” explores nature through artists of African diasporic, Latin American, and Native identity. 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. at BMA Main Campus, 10 Art Museum Drive. For more information, go to artbma.org/events. 

Sondheim 2025 Art Prize Finalists Award Ceremony: Come see the exhibition showcases of five finalists for the 2025 Janet & Walter Sondheim Art Prize, celebrate this year’s winner, and mingle with art-minded people in the award ceremony. 6 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. at The Walters Art Museum, 600 N. Charles Street. For more information, go to thewalters.org/event/sondheim2025-ceremony. 

“Of Yesterday and Tomorrow” Exhibition Opening: As the culmination of the 2025 New Generation Scholars Young Artist Archival Fellowship, this exhibition reflects months of research and storytelling into an installation about “a continuum of Black futures shaped by yesterday’s defiance.” 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. at The Peale, 225 Holliday Street. For more information, go to thepeale.org/upcoming-events. 

“Love in Every Shade” Gallery Reception: This Pride Month exhibition from the Chesapeake Arts Center serves as a showcase of queer love, artistry, and passion across all shades and peoples. Complimentary drinks and light snacks will be served. 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. at Chesapeake Arts Center, 194 Hammonds Lane, Brooklyn Park. For more information, go to chesapeakearts.org. 

Friday, June 27

Pride Month Booze & Browse: The Ivy Bookshop kicks off the final weekend of Pride Month with a special Booze & Browse. Make a craft, browse art books, sip a free drink, listen to music by Wondoz World, and visit the Queer Art Market. 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. at The Ivy Bookshop, 5928 Falls Road. For more information, go to theivybookshop.com/events. 

Final Fridays: Sing A Long with Evon Dior Michelle: Join Evon Dior Michelle and her fabulous drag friends for an evening of sing-a-long fun, with Disney songs, pop classics, or anything to your heart’s desire. 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. at Enoch Pratt Central Library, 400 Cathedral Street. For more information, go to calendar.prattlibrary.org. 

La Familia LIVE Karaoke w/ Secret Society: Live band Secret Society gets the party going and songs flowing with this karaoke experience. 6 p.m. to 11:55 p.m. at La Familia Soundstage, 836 Guilford Avenue. For more information, go to https://lafamiliasoundstage.com, or email info@lafamiliasoundstage.com. 

Saturday, June 28

Queering the Collection: Karol Martinez: Artist and educator Karol Martinez discusses the Latin American Art installation through a LGBTQ+ lens. 2 p.m. to 3 p.m. at The Walters Art Museum, 600 N. Charles Street. For more information, go to thewalters.org/event/martinez-2025-06. 

Sunday, June 29

SUMN FLY [AYE LAUNCH]: Join The Sola System for the grand opening of AYE, a new space of art and creation. This open house features artwork in two gallery spaces and the opportunity to connect with other artists and creatives (21+) 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. at the second floor of Historic Hooper House, 100 E. 23rd Street. For more information, email inorbit@thesolasystem.space, or follow @ayespaceforus on Instagram.

LAURYN HILL – Evening Ritual – Vinyl Listening Session: Evening Ritual presents a vinyl listening session and active discussion of Ms. Lauryn Hill’s legendary album “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.” 21+ ($12.51 – $17.85)  5 p.m. to 8 p.m. at Wet City, 223 W. Chase Street. For more information, go to basementselector.com/evening-ritual.

Sunday Dinner in the Black Arts District: Oh to Dream is back in the Black Arts District with their Sunday dinner series. All are welcome, and you’ll get to see a performance by Omnia Azar. 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. at 1829 Pennsylvania Avenue. For more information, find Sunday Dinner in the Black Arts District on Eventbrite.

Wednesday, July 2

Wu Wednesday: Sounds of Baltimore DJs present ‘80s through early 2000s hip-hop, R&B, and reggae music. 9:30 p.m. to 1:30 a.m. at The Point in Fells, 1738 Thames Street. For more information, follow @wuwednesdaysbaltimore on Instagram.

The post Baltimore Arts and Culture Events 6/18/25-7/2/25 appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

We recently lost journalist and documentarian Sacha Jenkins, one of the funniest, shrewdest, and most inspiring minds in cultural criticism and art his generation, or any generation since, has ever known. He was a significant influence on this film critic, so I was surprised to discover that his father — Horace B. Jenkins — was a filmmaker whose sole work never saw the light of day until 36 years after his death.

Horace B. Jenkins wrote, directed, and produced “Cane River” in 1982. It was, for the time, a rarity — a film created by, predominantly starring and funded by Black folks. 

Jenkins passed away that December, before the film secured distribution, before falling into obscurity for nearly forty years. But since the film’s rediscovery in 2018 and subsequent release in 2020, it’s been sitting on several streaming platforms, just waiting to be seen by hungry eyes destined to marvel at how ahead of its time it feels. Audiences have craved a film like this for decades, not knowing it existed just beyond our grasp. 

“Cane River” is a romantic drama between two lovers being pulled apart by the weight of the past and the pull of the present. When the film begins, we meet Peter Metoyer (Richard Romain), who is returning home to Cane River Lake in Natchitoches Parish, Louisiana. He’s met with love and excitement by a big, multigenerational gathering of family members, all the same shade of beige as him. We find out he’s been away at college, where he played football, but has given the sport up to pursue his real dream of being a poet and a writer. (“The closest I’ll get to the pros is the prose I put down with pencil on paper,” he says.)

Initially, it seems Peter is hiding some kind of failure and doesn’t want to disappoint all the people who treat him like a celebrity. But once he runs into Maria Mathis (Tommye Myrick), a gorgeous dark-skinned girl he hits it off with, it becomes clear he isn’t bluffing. Feeling an instant sense of ease around Maria, Peter transforms from the charming but stoic himbo we’ve seen into a passionate, hotheaded motormouth. He explains that he turned down being drafted by the New York Jets because of how the league treats talent and how it felt too much like being on an auction block. The two seem suspiciously smitten early on, given they’re on alternate paths. 

However, the true schism in this potential union is evident from the moment of their first meet-cute. Maria works part-time at a historical site that was once a plantation. Peter sees her while deviating from a tour after insulting the white lady who runs the place. Maria is on a break, reading “The Forgotten People: Cane River’s Creoles of Color,” a book about a well-off family that traces back to Marie Thérèse Coincoin, a formerly enslaved person turned slave owner. She also went by Marie Thérèse Métoyer, the name given to her by the slaver who married her and bought her freedom. Once the connection is made that Peter is a descendant of the controversial family Maria has been reading about, their families become obstacles to their future.

It’s fascinating to watch a romance unfold that reckons with the ever-present specter of America’s history and all the ways it impacts future generations, regardless of the distance of time. Both Peter and Maria, at different points to each other and others, fall back on the fact that they weren’t there in the 1700s and bear no personal responsibility for the actions of their ancestors. But as the film unfolds, it becomes increasingly apparent that they can’t simply “why you bringin’ up old stuff” their way out of their tangible realities. 

There’s a particularly damning scene where Peter crashes out after finding out the original home he grew up in and the land it sits on was sold by his aunt to an unscrupulous lawyer. It leads him to finally read the book Maria had — only he skips over all the findings about his ancestors’ complicity in enslaving their people and focuses solely on the importance of land ownership and how modern Blacks aren’t focused enough on accumulating generational wealth. All this forty years before Jay-Z would go on to shame his listeners for not owning any Basquiats or investing in Dumbo when they had the chance!

Don’t allow all this talk about the complexities of racial matters make the film sound like a tough watch. Jenkins, as a storyteller, had a unique sense of humor, and he allowed moments of comedy to breathe throughout the film believably and charmingly. Roy Glover’s score features a variety of songs from New Orleans vocalist Phillip Manuel, and the lyrics have a Randy Newman-esque quality to them, narrating things seen on screen or adding omniscient depth to suggest a more soulful version of a sitcom’s theme. 

Jenkins and cinematographer Gideon Manasseh aren’t reinventing the wheel with the film’s visual language or anything — they’re both comfortable letting scenes expand into long single takes, relying on zooms to segment into close-ups — but they do a phenomenal job capturing the environs of Louisiana. The fields, the waters, day exteriors, and night exteriors — the state provides such a gorgeous backdrop to the proceedings.

Neither lead went on to have the most notable of careers, but some flowers must be given for Romain and Myrick’s performances and their palpable chemistry. Watching “Cane River” in 2025, one can’t help but envision an alternate reality where this really did get a wide release while Jenkins was still alive to accept the praise. Jenkins’ son Sacha inspired a lot of us with his work. One can only wish he had been given the same opportunity.

“Cane River” is currently streaming on Cineverse, Fandor, and Philo but is also available to rent for free on Kanopy using your local library card.

The post Star-crossed lovers on either side of the brown paper bag test in ‘Cane River’ appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

One thing I’ve observed in the last decade I’ve spent writing and reporting about Baltimore was that after the death of Freddie Gray, the way city leaders discussed police and policing changed — but the dangerous and racist roots of policing remained firmly in place. 

Suddenly, it became fashionable for leaders to hint at the root causes of violence. However, that didn’t mean that funding for police or the immense power that the institution has over this city changed in any measurable way. Logan Hullinger’s detailed and careful reporting in this issue confirms this. 

“In a staggering indictment of policing in Baltimore, a Baltimore Beat analysis of police data shows that nearly all people arrested and charged with drug crimes in Baltimore are Black — even though studies show that drug use rates among the Black population are similar to those of other races,” he writes.

Hullinger examined arrest statistics from the Baltimore Police Department, alongside demographics from the U.S. Census Bureau to arrive at this conclusion. 

In their defense, the Baltimore Police Department says they are simply targeting areas of the city where crime exists.

“The BPD prioritizes enforcement efforts on drug-related activities that contribute to violence, such as trafficking and distribution by organized criminal networks. Enforcement strategies continue to evolve, focusing on dismantling open-air drug markets and addressing addiction through a public health lens, including diversion programs and drug court. Officers also address cases where substance use contributes to broader public safety concerns,” BPD spokesperson Lindsey Eldridge told Hullinger.

Also in this issue, Jaisal Noor spoke to young local activists about why they continue to organize on behalf of Palestinians.

“We wanted to show that even if it’s just a handful of us, we’re not going to let our school go about with a land acknowledgment and then censor students who want to talk about Palestine,” Qamar Hassan, a graduating senior at the Maryland Institute College of Art, told Noor. 

Elsewhere in this issue, Angela N. Carroll writes about “Crosscurrents: Works from the Contemporary Collection,” a new exhibition now on view at the Baltimore Museum of Art that examines the ways that the fight for social justice intersects with the fight for environmental justice.

“You’ll see that some of the work [and] themes are very directly anchored in ecology, where the artist is making a direct statement about environmental justice. But much more often, you’ll see a more expansive relationship with that subject, thinking about environmental justice and social justice as entwined,” Cecilia Wichmann, curator and department head of contemporary art at the museum, told Carroll.

For “Best Beats,” Arts and Culture Editor Teri Henderson writes about new music from Yaira Wang (formerly known as Grey Dolf), Nourished by Time, Moon Tide Gallery, and a bunch of local DJs. Our Photostory page features scenes from Baltimore Pride over 20 years ago, through the lens of the late photographer Joseph Kohl. 

All this is in addition to a new film review from Dominic Griffin, a poem from Writers in Baltimore Schools participant Javonte’ Patterson, and calendar listings of events happening all over the city.

You’ll also see two graduation announcements in this issue. If you’d like for us to publish yours, follow the QR code on page 10. 

Thank you for reading. 

The post Letter from the editor – Issue 63 appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

Dedicated to Aiden, 

Eternity will never be enough 

to make up for the time I haven’t spent with you

   In Fanfiction 

   Hanahaki

   is the beautiful death

 by unrequited love.

  Flowers growing in the airways.

     The air squeezed from my lungs

        as my heart lays heavy on the bed,

 With that rainy musky late night scent,

 and pain from your mark

    as I’m pinned with my hands locked 

                              to yours.

     And the morning,

     so sickeningly sweet.

              Coddled to your chest and neck,

                a fresh sea breeze 

              yet the heat

      of the night before lingers.

        The heat of your 

      skin to mine reassures me

 that you give me 

 air – clear my lungs

 of those pining petals.

My hanahaki is your absence.

Hugging the grey shirt you never said I could keep

     on a bed meant for one, not 

                 one half.

Fighting with aftergloom 

so I may hold onto the embers 

that were once a blazing inferno

    that replaced my breath 

        with yours.

My hanahaki is once finding

                 Eden.

The entire garden brushed 

  with bronze, gold, and crimson 

     stardust. 

You pressed a flower to my lips and left me

With only the taste of you

to reminisce.

The post Hanahaki appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

Wednesday, June 18

West Wednesday: Hear about the ongoing fight for police accountability in the Tyrone West case and for all victims of police misconduct. This event happens every Wednesday. For more information, go to westcoalition.com or follow @westwednesday on Instagram and Justice for Tyrone West on Facebook.

Board of Estimates Meeting: 9 a.m. at City Hall in the Board of Estimates Chambers, 100 N. Holliday Street. For more information, go to comptroller.baltimorecity.gov/boe.

The Baltimore Rapid Response Network Presents: For the Long Haul, Pt. 3: Gather to discuss local organizing efforts. Childcare provided. Masks encouraged/provided. 6 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. at 2640 Space, St. Paul St. For more information, go to bit.ly/brrn618.

The Fab Show: Join Dance & Bmore for a free Juneteenth performance celebrating Black theater, culture, history, and achievements from the 1900s to today. Featuring original prose, poems, and select readings from and of Langston Hughes, Eubie Blake and more. 6:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. at the Enoch Pratt Central Library, 400 Cathedral Street. For more information, go to danceandbmore.com. 

“Underworld Work” Book Talk: Assistant Professor Ahmad Greene-Hayes will present and discuss his book on African American religious history from the perspective and practices of Africana esotericisms in Jim Crow Louisiana. 7 p.m. at Red Emma’s, 3128 Greenmount Avenue. For more information, go to redemmas.org/events. 

Thursday, June 19

East Baltimore 2nd Annual Juneteenth Event: Pony rides, community resources, arts and crafts, and more.  3 p.m. to 7 p.m. at Eager Park, 900 N. Wolfe Street. For more information, go to eastbaltimorehistoricallibrary.org. 

Healing Us Together Gathering: Join Park Heights Renaissance and the WeOurUs Movement for an evening of healing, growth and brotherhood. 6:30 p.m. at The Lord’s Church, 5010 Park Heights Avenue. For more information, follow @phrenaissance on Instagram, or go to weourusmovement.org 

The British Empire in Baltimore Walking Tour: Learn about some of the complicated and messy parts of Baltimore’s history, covering topics like local Indigenous history, plantation slavery, the plantations of Ireland, and more. ($12 – $15) 7 p.m. to 8:45 p.m. Downtown to Mount Vernon and back. For more information, go to fullstorybaltimore.tours. 

Friday, June 20

Health Care for the Homeless Mobile Clinic: This clinic will offer services like medical insurance and benefits enrollment, Suboxone starts and referrals, and syringe services. 8:30 a.m. to noon at Morrell Park, 2608 Washington Boulevard. For more information, go to hchmd.org/hours-and-locations. 

Pratt Free Market: A judgment-free, accessible, and modern free grocery store. Customers can fill one library supply bag with groceries every Wednesday and Friday. 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. at the Enoch Pratt Southeast Anchor Library, 3601 Eastern Avenue. For more information, go to prattlibrary.org or call 410-396-5430.

Saturday, June 21

Baltimore Action Legal Team Popup: Free warrant recall and expungement services from BALT’s community lawyer. 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. at the Citizens Policing Project and Campaign for Justice, Safety and Jobs Juneteenth Event, 1526 N. Fremont Avenue. For more information, go to baltimoreactionlegal.org/events. 

Black Alliance for Peace Baltimore City-Wide Alliance Town Hall: Join the Black Alliance for Peace Baltimore City-Wide Alliance for a town hall. This session will discuss federal layoffs, stagnant wages, rising cost-of-living and what that means for Baltimore’s working class. Food and childcare provided, masks provided and required. 12:30 p.m. to 3 p.m. at Payne Memorial A.M.E. Church, 1714 Madison Avenue. For more information, follow @bap_baltimore on Instagram or go to blackallianceforpeace.com.

Queer Care Book Fair: Take part and explore books and works by queer authors. Featuring a book signing and Q&A with Dr. Tony Keith Jr., a self-care workshop, a make-a-basket workshop, a raffle, and more. ($17.75 – $44) 1 p.m. at Red Emma’s, 3128 Greenmount Avenue. For more information, go to redemmas.org/events/the-queer-care-book-fair-picnic-and-pages. 

Sunday, June 22

Run/Walk for Palestine: Join Runners4Justice on Sundays to run/walk for Palestine. All paces are welcome. Routes will be provided with options for a 1.5-2-mile walk or 3-mile run. Meet up at 9:15 a.m., run/walk starts at 9:30 a.m. Locations vary — for more information, follow Runners4Justice on Facebook and Instagram or email runners4justicebalt@gmail.com to be added to their email list.

Todd Miller Discussion on Trump’s Deportation Program: Join journalist Todd Miller and Speak Out Socialists for an hybrid discussion about President Donald Trump’s border militarization and deportation agenda. 7 p.m. at The Compound, 2239 Kirk Avenue. For more information, follow @sonbaltimore on Instagram or go to speakoutsocialists.org.

Monday, June 23

Resource Fair: An opportunity to provide free resources to community members. Organizers seek people who can offer health resources, food, workforce development training opportunities, housing resources, and more. 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Upton Boxing Center, 1901 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Baltimore City Council Meeting: 5 p.m. at Baltimore City Hall, 100 N. Holliday Street. For more information, go to baltimorecitycouncil.com or call 410-396-4804.

Tuesday, June 24

B-360 Sound of Summer Camp: In this ten-day day camp, K-12 students learn how to ride dirt bikes and ATVs, understand the STEM in dirt bikes, and go on Friday Field trips. ($75 for new campers, $25 for returning campers) The first session lasts from June 24 through July 3, from 10 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. For more information, go to b360baltimore.org. 

Wednesday, June 25

ASL for Activists: Join Jewish Voice for Peace Baltimore for an ASL class. Learn the necessary signs to start conversing with Deaf and Hard of Hearing folks. 7 p.m. at Red Emma’s, 3128 Greenmount Avenue. For more information, go to redemmas.org/events/asl-for-activists. 

Thursday, June 26

Great Kids Farm Family Hours: City Schools families and staff are invited to enjoy a hands-on day at the farm. Meet animals, explore trails, and see what’s growing. 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Great Kids Farm, 6601 Baltimore National Pike, Catonsville. For more information, go to bit.ly/GKFfamilies. 

BGE Open House at Peabody Heights Brewery: Learn to understand your bill, summer energy bill changes, billing options and more at this event, organized by BGE. 5:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. at Peabody Heights Brewery, 401 E. 30th Street. For more information, go to bge.com/my-account/customer-support/contact-us.

Made Up with Pride: Learn the basics of makeup with nonbinary dragster Orion Ridgely. You’ll need to bring your own makeup kit. 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. at Enoch Pratt Canton Branch, 1030 South Ellwood Avenue. For more information, go to calendar.prattlibrary.org. 

Saturday, June 28

Clay Pots Community Day: Local community resources, food, great music, and more. 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. at Clay Pots, 1635 West Pratt Street. For more information, go to claypotsbaltimore.org. 

HON Member Meeting: Join Housing Our Neighbors Baltimore in working to improve shelter conditions and fight for housing. Noon to 2 p.m. at Emmanuel Episcopal Church, 811 Cathedral Street. For more information, go to honbaltimore.org.

Annual Sustainability Open House: Free food, giveaways, and a celebration of sustainability across the city.Noon to 4 p.m. at Carroll Park Recreation Center, 800 Bayard Street. For more information, email sustainability@baltimorecity.gov.

Donnell’s Day 2025: Join the Donnell Justice Fighters in celebrating the life of Donnell Rochester. This free, Black LGBTQ-centered event will provide food, music, legal resources, and more. 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. at 4001 Harford Road. For more information, follow @justice4donnell on Instagram.

The post Baltimore Government and Community Events 6/18/25-7/2/25 appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

At first glance, it may seem that the War on Drugs has all but disappeared in Baltimore. The decades-long campaign decimated Black neighborhoods and fueled mass incarceration in the city under the guise of public safety.

From more than 7,000 arrests in 2015 to less than 2,000 in 2024, the number of people being arrested for drug crimes has plummeted. Public officials seem to have formed a  consensus — one reflected more so in words than in actions — about the importance of harm reduction in place of a punitive approach to drug use.

Look closer, however, and it’s evident that the driving force behind the drug war has only gotten worse. 

In a staggering indictment of policing in Baltimore, a Baltimore Beat analysis of police data shows that nearly all people arrested and charged with drug crimes in Baltimore are Black — even though studies show that drug use rates among the Black population are similar to those of other races. Meanwhile, a change in priorities at the State’s Attorney’s Office caused low-level drug charges to surge. Police are slated to receive an increase to their already exorbitant budget in part to crack down harder on drug crimes, while the health department’s funding could be decimated as they try to help those who use them.

At the same time, death rates among older Black men skyrocketed in the last decade. 

The Beat’s analysis covered tens of thousands of misdemeanor and felony drug arrest records obtained from the Baltimore Police Department through a Public Information Act request. The dataset, spanning from 2015 to 2024, was sorted by race and ZIP code and analyzed in conjunction with publicly available overdose data and population data from the American Community Survey, an annual demographics survey conducted by the U.S. Census Bureau.

Lawrence Grandpre, the policy director of Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, a grassroots, Black-led think tank in Baltimore, said the data demonstrates how “racialized social control” has maintained racial hierarchies and inequality in Baltimore.

“A couple of things are happening. One is that it’s muscle memory for cops,” Grandpre said. “You need to continuously justify the massive amounts of money that they take from the community.”

“There is also racialized stigma around the notion of the Black drug addict and the Black drug seller, the Black drug seller being a driver of violence through narratives that reach back but also the idea of the Black addict as uniquely dangerous in their intoxication, as opposed to … public health frames of empathy and solidarity around white drug addicts.”

In 2015, the same year Freddie Gray died at the hands of the Baltimore Police Department and the city erupted in calls for criminal justice reform, about 84% of those arrested on drug charges — including both misdemeanors and felonies — were Black people. 

That number peaked at 96% in 2021, the same year the city was devastated by the most fatal overdoses ever recorded in a single year. A little over 1,000 deaths that year were attributed to overdoses, more than two-thirds of whom were Black, according to data from the Maryland Department of Health.

In 2024, 92.5% of those arrested for drug charges were Black. 

Catherine Tomko, a social scientist at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, said the extent to which Black Baltimoreans are arrested is disproportionately high, even in the context of racist policing nationwide. The most recent U.S. Census Bureau figures show the city is 60% Black.

“Considering the history of policing in Baltimore, I am not completely surprised by those numbers,” Tomko said.

“The inflection point obviously is the death of Freddie Gray and the uprisings that happened. It created a big spotlight on Baltimore policing and its practices. And when the Department of Justice came in and investigated, they found really egregious, racist practices that targeted the Black community.”

Baltimore saw a spike in violent crime and homicides after Gray died in police custody, with a significant decline seen only in the past couple of years, as national numbers also dropped. The part of the story that tends to be overlooked is the concurrent — and intertwined — surge in overdose deaths. 

The year of Gray’s death, fatal overdose rates of white and Black men ages 55 and older were nearly identical, data from the Maryland Department of Health shows. The death rate among Black men in that age range skyrocketed as years passed.

By 2023, the death rate of older Black men reached an all-time high of 697 deaths per 100,000 people, more than doubling that of white men. Baltimore saw a historic drop in overdose deaths the following year, yet the death rate for Black men remained about 88% higher than white men.

“For many people, they don’t have access to methadone or anything to keep their tolerance up,” Grandpre said. “So when they get out of jail, they have a lower tolerance for this very toxic drug supply, setting them up for a fatal overdose.”

“On top of that, you just have general life instability, where you may have some tentative employment or housing, but the criminal justice system puts you in a position where those things become more tenuous. Those things can put you at risk of an overdose.”

Policing in Baltimore can’t be talked about as simply an effort to keep communities safe. Its impact on public health and overdose prevention efforts in the city has been devastating.

Arrest data analyzed by the Beat demonstrates that drug enforcement over the past 10 years has focused on majority-Black neighborhoods located in east and west Baltimore, which are also the areas with some of the highest fatal overdose rates in the city.

In poorer, majority-Black neighborhoods such as those in ZIP code 21216 in West Baltimore, as many as 98% of people arrested on drug charges over the last 10 years were Black, according to calculations based on demographic data from the 2023 American Community Survey.

Even in areas with majority-white populations, such as ZIP codes 21224 in Southeast Baltimore, the majority of people charged with drug crimes in the past decade were Black, according to the data. That area also has a relatively high overdose death toll.

(The arrest numbers could fluctuate slightly, as some arrests contained errors in ZIP codes. For example, more than 120 ZIP codes were simply listed as “0.” Gender data was not included in the dataset, though it’s well-documented that Black men are arrested and incarcerated at significantly higher rates.)

Despite the severity of the growing overdose crisis, the spotlight largely remained fixated on violent crime. Yet, like homicides, fatal overdoses have disproportionately affected Black communities over the years. 

Cops and city officials have denied racial profiling and claimed the drug arrest data shows the impact of strategic policing that focuses on where the bulk of crime occurs. 

“The BPD prioritizes enforcement efforts on drug-related activities that contribute to violence, such as trafficking and distribution by organized criminal networks. Enforcement strategies continue to evolve, focusing on dismantling open-air drug markets and addressing addiction through a public health lens, including diversion programs and drug court. Officers also address cases where substance use contributes to broader public safety concerns,” BPD spokesperson Lindsey Eldridge said.

Enforcement efforts tend not to have the intended effect of curbing fatal overdoses or violent crime, according to numerous studies.

In fact, they may have the opposite impact, a study in the International Journal of Drug Policy shows. 

"From an evidence-based public policy perspective and based on several decades of available data, the existing scientific evidence suggests drug law enforcement contributes to gun violence and high homicide rates and that increasingly sophisticated methods of disrupting organizations involved in drug distribution could paradoxically increase violence,” the study found. 

A 2023 study conducted by Harvard University argued that drug enforcement can also increase overdose death rates by disrupting the drug supply and pushing drug users toward riskier sources, a phenomenon known as the “Iron Law of Prohibition.” 

Against the backdrop of decades of drug-war propaganda, nixing enforcement in favor of other approaches may seem radical to some. Yet harm reductionists in Baltimore and beyond recognize the damage that heavy-handed policing has caused for decades, advocating instead for a compassionate, evidence-based approach to drug policy.

“The War on Drugs is fundamentally a system of punishment and control, not care. It hasn’t reduced drug-related deaths, use, or manufacturing; but it has devastated communities, especially Black and Brown ones,” said Darci Curwen-Garber, policy manager of the Baltimore Harm Reduction Coalition.

“When we use punitive drug laws to ‘remove the problem,’ what we’re really doing is removing people — disappearing them through incarceration, policing, and stigma.”

City officials, however, have found themselves unable — or unwilling — to let go of punitive drug enforcement and the millions of dollars it takes to bankroll the cops who carry it out.

Mayor Brandon Scott’s budget, approved by the City Council on June 16, includes a more than $20 million increase to the police department’s budget for the upcoming fiscal year, bringing its total to almost $613 million. As of 2020, the city spent more per capita on its police department than any other U.S. city, according to a study by the nonprofit Vera Institute of Justice.

At a budget hearing earlier this month, Police Commissioner Richard Worley touted an 11% increase in felony drug arrests and a 28% increase in misdemeanor arrests since last year. More money is needed, he argued, to continue these efforts and cover overtime costs.

The fiscal plan also includes a $7 million cut to the health department, marking a 3.5% decrease from the year prior. At $201 million, its budget is less than one-third of that of the police department — and nearly half of that comes from federal funding that could be lost because of President Donald Trump’s barrage of cost-cutting measures.

Those impacted by drug enforcement spoke to the Beat about a pattern of targeted enforcement that often creates a carceral cycle for Black Baltimoreans.

Eric Monroe grew up in East Baltimore, where both drug arrest rates and fatal overdose rates remain relatively high. Like many Black youth growing up in poverty in Baltimore, Monroe followed the lead of his environment.

His parents and other adults in his life were “caught up in the drug life,” and when he and his friends needed money, selling drugs seemed like the obvious way to get it.

Monroe soon faced drug charges, leaving him with a criminal record in his teens. He served his first stint in prison at 19. 

Monroe, now 44, said he regrets his actions, though he spoke of the feeling of hopelessness as a young Black person and how that feeling can deter people like himself from fighting charges, even in the absence of solid evidence. 

“If I get caught with a drug charge and a court date, you feel like you’ve already been convicted,” he said. 

“There’s a stigma for us African American people that we are guilty until proven innocent. You can’t win because they are the authorities. They have the last say in how this can end up. Either they can let you walk away or make the rest of your life miserable.”

The police didn’t let Monroe walk away. The damage was done, and the initial drug charges escalated into more serious crimes and longer sentences as he sought approval from the streets. 

Though he is free today and on a better path, it remains part of his history.

Terry Speaks, who got out of prison on a 10-year sentence in 2024 for robbery charges, became addicted to pills at a young age, and turned to what he was surrounded by to feed his habit: selling. The cops eventually caught up to him as he attempted to manage his addiction.

Speaks, now 50 and a certified peer recovery coach, works as a leadership development organizer for the nonprofit Out For Justice, a Baltimore-based nonprofit that helps reconnect individuals to society post-incarceration. He grew up in Park Heights, an area with some of the most overdose deaths and drug arrests in the city, and Woodlawn. He echoed Monroe’s feelings of hopelessness at a young age.

“I feel like I was railroaded when I was young,” Speaks said. “My family didn’t have a lot of money. And when I was in prison, they didn’t offer any help or nothing. If you didn’t take it upon yourself to rehabilitate yourself, you didn’t get any type of guidance in prison at a young age. It was just a continuous cycle.”

A leg injury he suffered in adulthood fueled Speaks’s addiction. He resorted to robbery to fund his substance use, escalating his crimes in pursuit of drugs. His choices perpetuated a carceral cycle similar to Monroe’s.

As Baltimore residents deal with the lasting impact of drug prohibition, organizations like the Baltimore Harm Reduction Coalition, Charm City Care Connection, and Bmore POWER have stepped in to work alongside the health department to ensure those who use drugs stay alive.

Together, they’ve offered sterile syringes and safe smoking kits to prevent the spread of diseases like HIV. They’ve distributed innumerable doses of naloxone, which reverses overdose deaths, along with test strips for fentanyl and xylazine — the latter of which is increasingly found in the drug supply and is resistant to naloxone.

To prevent further overdose deaths, these organizations are calling for the city to do more, perhaps most notably by implementing overdose prevention centers (OPCs) and decriminalizing drug “paraphernalia.”

By giving drug users a safe, judgement-free place to use substances — without having to worry about cops — OPCs would reduce overdose deaths, they argue. They also argue that paraphernalia decriminalization would allow people to utilize syringe service programs without fear that they could be arrested for possessing the supplies they receive there. 

Bills in the Maryland General Assembly to implement those measures have repeatedly died in committee in recent years.

“So many of the overdoses and drug harms that are happening [in Maryland] happen in Baltimore City,” said Tomko, whose studies at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health focus on drugs and marginalized populations. “So I do think that some of it is a racist idea of, ‘Whatever happens to that community happens to that community,’ so there isn’t as much of a political will and urgency.”

Mayor Scott has the authority to unilaterally impose measures such as OPCs, though he has repeatedly declined to comment on the matter despite naming both pieces of state legislation as two of his 21 “legislative priorities” this year.

Meanwhile, State’s Attorney Ivan Bates has done away with the de facto decriminalization policy instituted by his predecessor Marilyn Mosby in 2020, taking the city back to the days of former Mayor Martin O’Malley and zero-tolerance policing.

In Bates’s first year in office in 2023, all drug charges surged to 4,913, a 91% increase over the year prior. Misdemeanor drug charges, which were the subject of the de facto decriminalization policy, increased nearly 20-fold, from 113 to 2,108.

Racial disparities in arrests worsened under both states’ attorneys.

Though data on racial demographics of those incarcerated in Baltimore is limited, a 2022 report by Mosby’s office and researchers from the University of Maryland and Howard University found that Black defendants “face more serious charges and are overrepresented in violent, firearms and drug offenses” and “more than 1 in 3 cases involve drug charges as the most serious offense.”

Heather Pfeifer, executive director of the University of Baltimore’s School of Criminal Justice, said the new arrest data raises questions about the city’s approach to drug enforcement.

“If we don't have an honest conversation about this, it jeopardizes the legitimacy of the relationship between the police and the community.”

Both the mayor and Bates would not directly address questions about racial profiling in policing and prosecution. Bates’s office declined to comment, and Scott pointed to a historic decline in homicides and progress in the police department’s 2017 consent decree.

However, eight years later, a federal judge has found the police department to be fully compliant in only five of 17 sections of the decree. Notably, it has not been found in full compliance with sections dealing with discriminatory practices in stops, searches, and arrests.

“While BPD is committed to fair and impartial policing, it recognizes the need to address disparities in law enforcement outcomes,” Eldridge said. “The department continues to implement bias training, increase transparency in data reporting and expand community engagement efforts to ensure equitable policing practices.”

Eldridge pointed the Beat to a November 2023 assessment by the BPD’s Consent Decree Monitoring Team, which noted that there was “no statistically significant pattern” in regard to race among cases that lacked probable cause.

The same assessment says, “Compared to the overall Baltimore population, arrest subjects in the reviewed samples were disproportionately Black.”

In 2025, it’s unclear how — or if — Baltimore will break from its history of punitive drug policy.

Despite pouring money into the police department while cutting funds to the city’s public health authority, the mayor and city officials have vowed to more strongly embrace harm reduction initiatives.

A silver lining may be imminent thanks to hundreds of millions of dollars in opioid restitution funds that the city has won from opioid-related lawsuits. However, the city will likely receive less than it had anticipated.

On June 12, a judge rejected the city’s request for two opioid distributors to pay $5.2 billion to cover the city’s abatement plan and also reversed a jury verdict in the first phase of the trial that awarded the city $266 million in “public nuisance” damages.

The city must decide by July 7 if it will accept a massive cut to its winnings to avoid a new trial, after which abatement would be re-evaluated. With the development, Baltimore’s total winnings from lawsuits could end up significantly less than the BPD’s annual budget — and the opioid money is meant to be spread out over 15 years.

Of the roughly $37 million in restitution funds Baltimore has already received and is slated to allocate in the upcoming fiscal year, more than $3 million has already been proposed for supplanting existing funding streams instead of building on current harm reduction efforts. Public health experts have strongly cautioned against the practice, including the Johns Hopkins University Bloomberg School of Public Health.

Meanwhile, the police and public officials continue to boast about drug busts, flaunting photos of seized weapons and drugs such as fentanyl. On Capitol Hill, the synthetic opioid has also become a rallying cry for President Trump and his administration. 

Republicans have sought to designate fentanyl as a “weapon of mass destruction” and have weaponized it to demonize immigrants and other minorities — echoing the drug-war rhetoric of former presidents Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan.

And now Democrats, just as former President Bill Clinton did with the 1994 Crime Bill, are joining in to expand mandatory minimum sentences with the HALT Fentanyl Act.

The administration is pushing to slash billions in funding for local health departments and freeze grants to entities such as harm reduction organizations, putting their overdose prevention efforts in jeopardy.

“If we’re serious about saving lives, then our drug policies need to be designed with one clear goal: to protect and support all people who use drugs,” said Curwen-Garber, policy manager of the Baltimore Harm Reduction Coalition.

“Until that happens, our loved ones — and yours — will keep dying.”

The post  In Baltimore’s drug war, ‘public safety’ comes before public health. Nearly everyone impacted is Black appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

As Baltimore commemorates the 50th anniversary of Pride, and in the spirit of the enduring declaration “We Will Not Be Erased,” Baltimore Beat is honored to dedicate this Pride issue to the diverse experiences and perspectives of our city’s vibrant LGBTQIA+ community. 

We invited our readers to share their reflections, stories, art, and insights on what Pride means to them this year. Here are some of the pieces we received.

Abby Higgs

Growing up, my family attended First Baptist Church in Richmond, Indiana — brick chapel, hellfire at nine and eleven. The minister, Reverend Moore, was a squat, silver-haired man with horn-rimmed glasses. He hated homosexuals – so much that when he wasn’t decrying “the gay agenda” from the pulpit, he was doing so via megaphone on street corners in his spare time. It was fun for him, I assumed; he clearly loved it. Which meant he hated me. Not that Rev. Moore ever looked in my direction at church – never spared me a glance – but his words settled into me when he preached like dust in the lungs, steadily making it harder for me to breathe in that otherwise calm — too calm — chapel. Eventually, I stopped going altogether.

Until I met another Reverend Moore nearly two decades later. At the Unitarian Church on West Franklin during Baltimore Pride. I’d stopped in to use the restroom, glitter clinging to my sweat-slick arms and legs. “Make sure you’re drinking enough water,” said a voice from the depths of the darkened sanctuary. A middle-aged, silver-haired man stepped into the light, smiling. He wore a nametag on his bright-green shirt — “Reverend Moore” — and carried a megaphone in one hand. “Gotta go tell God’s children how beautiful they are today,” he said, handing me a bottle of water. Then he walked out the front door of the church to the sidewalk, lifted his megaphone, and shouted at everybody and nobody nearby: “I love you and God loves you just the way you are!”

Kenneth Watson, Jr. JD

Growing up, I always felt different — though I didn’t yet have the words for it. My father would watch me, saying, “Look how big your eyes get when you’re paying attention.” And I was always paying attention — to the small shifts, the sideways glances, the words that said I was “sweet” but meant something else. My stutter felt like the fear in my chest, a silence I learned to carry.

Even in a house full of siblings, I felt like an island. I learned to make myself small, to quiet the parts of me that didn’t fit — because back then, safety meant not being seen.

But with time, I learned that those quiet parts of me — the parts I was told to tuck away — are the very pieces that make me whole. My queerness isn’t something to be hidden; it’s the truth of my being. It’s the light that refused to be snuffed out.

My birthday falls at the start of Pride Month, as if the universe itself was saying: you belong here. Today, I live as both that young boy and his protector — honoring his innocence, his grace, his unbroken spirit.

To any little Black boy who feels alone: you are not. You are seen, you are whole, and you are no less of a man because of who you love or who makes you feel safe. Your story matters—and it will not be erased.

Coraline Ismael Karim

From Oranges to Crabs

I moved here from the Sunshine State, from Tampa, a city for tech bros and tax-evading philanthropists, the haven of gentrifiers, if you will, where white and cis faces filled practically every space one enters, and growing up there as a Muslim trans woman taught me the essence of isolation. It was a very rare occurrence to see someone like me, if at all. At times, I felt like I had to dig through concrete with my bare hands just to even see a brown-skinned transgender woman.

And then I moved to Baltimore in January of 2025. I left that place I once called home out of fear of being beaten and removed from society, losing my autonomy in all spaces, once again, because calling me every derivative that their small minds can think of became appropriate once again.

The isolation that clung to my neck for so many years began to wither when I came here. Just down the street from home there’s a Yemeni restaurant full of Muslim faces making the best falafel and not once have they made me feel unwelcomed. They play the same Muslim prayers I grew up with and treat me like I’m their family, like habibti. There are black and brown trans faces everywhere here, and the separation of the self I once felt for twenty-five years of my life is now a passing memory. I am home. That’s what Pride is. It isn’t booths from corporations pretending they ever cared about us or another oil company acting like flaring a rainbow means they want to see my tribe in their spaces — no. Pride is about seeing your people out in public. It’s about laughing with those who call you their own. It’s about home.

Fern Aurelius

My works are homunculi; created from the anguish of expression and the decaying bibliosmia of my collage hoard, bound with non-toxic glue, and a few drops of my own blood. I’ve formed them to provoke the minds of all who view them.

Art is never only about the artist. My pieces are reflections of the niche that I occupy in this world: a tender, complicated space I share with a loving, vibrant, and resilient community.

Rahne Alexander

Pride is a place in time. It’s an emotion; it’s a sin. It’s a bunch of lions; it’s a fucking riot. It’s summer day, as it goeth before the fall. But the feeling, the swelling, that elusive warmth that escapes and perplexes me? The Pride of memes and commodity? Look, I love a quippy racerback as much as the next femme but even the best tanks fade. I have had my share of Prides where I’m too debauched or detached to focus on the fight immediately ahead of me. We all can’t possibly be always already on.  We need our beauty sleep. We need to dream. We need to watch out for each other. Without that, there is no Pride. 

Dani Lopez

This series was made as an ode to my older sibling Pili Lopez and his career practice as a Queer, Colombian tattoo artist at a local queer-owned Baltimore tattoo shop called Fruit Camp. We are both Queer Colombian artists living and working in Baltimore. 

Some of my favorite memories from the previous 2024 Pride celebration were photographing Pili’s partner Santana Sankofa, my sister-in-law, performing at Baltimore Trans Pride. Seeing everyone dance and sing to songs from a loved one was healing. I am looking forward to taking photos at this year’s pride to document the abundance Queer joy in the city.

My-Azia Johnson

Sweating like a Whore at Church (Excerpt 1)

Our story followed the stars, charted by our placements which naturally brought us into this world dirty, wet, and fiery, predestined to leave us winded from committing the most unholy of acts. I’m watching you paint a self portrait, layering colors of depth and dimension. 

Together, we frequently craft our own beauty, sitting intertwined with silence and gratitude, we let each other in, rooting into deeper and deeper depths of enlightenment. The memories from last night, such a blessing. Then you interrupt my daylusting and encourage me to do more than just admire your secret project. I’ve been chosen to gently touch the sprouts and burrow through the dirt of your greenhouse that’s still mucky in thick, fleshy bands of fresh paint. My soul is resurrected with each chance I get to feel you wet and undone like this. Access to any part of you feels spiritual and sacred. 

I always ask what your artistic intent is when you display your work to me. We guide each other to feel where the spirit is moving, and our chapel-worthy artistry fogs out every single thought and window of doubt. We sometimes luxuriously take turns stroking paint-covered brushes made of silicone or bone, other times we’re inspired to move more hastily. I see your hand, and I’m becoming a fanatic for your craft. From above, our bodies present as undulating lines in different shades of brown, embossed with cotton pillows and cold sheets christened with sweat. Art possessed with breath and death.

Everett Patterson

Yasmine Bolden

Baltimore Pride Abcederian 

An ancestry of belonging to anyone but ourselves ends here.
Bends beneath my binder and swells into a syncopated
call and response that begins: all Black trans survival is improvizational jazz. Nearly
dies on my lips while I’m singing with sapphics
entering the Pink Pony Club. Is made a deer in headlights by
faces that can Anansi spider, sliding between boy
girl boy girl. Whatever we do, we know we
have to remember everything. We could be tipsy
indolent after sad twerking to Southern hip-hop or
joaning in a way that’s code for: I love you pink-soft and red-hot. Several
Konas and bisexual cocktails in, we’d still
look for the wide-eyed form of our
most hurting histories. Bless the homegirl whose purse pockets
naloxone, water, and grandma candies. Who
opens her palms, taking her
place on the right hand side of the road, waiting. Who takes being the
queer salt of the earth seriously. Whose
rage could rival God’s. Whose pride holds my
sweaty hand in the hospital where I misgender myself, at
the parade where everyone knows and
understands both of my names: the one I was given and the one I wasn’t allowed to have. Voracious is the only word to describe the
way my ancestors must’ve felt. I know it from the way I’ve got to be capital
X xtra as soon as May and June kiss again.
You can feel a hunger that ripples through my lineage. A
zest wild and horned and all our own.

Glori Mahammitt

Matt Hurd

Pride is finally feeling like you can be yourself after masking a significant part of who you are for a long time. It is a destination that I wasn’t sure I would make it to, honestly. There is often a gap between when you “know” and when you “come out” (for the first time – because I’ve learned it is continuous), and that period of discontent* can be hard. I am just grateful to be here now. Moving to Baltimore and finding the community here was the best thing to ever happen to me. 

I love you, Baltimore 💚

Barbara Perez Marquez

TACITURN

crawled into bed last night
your paced breathing a metronome
my heartbeat attempting to match it
lull myself into unconscious bliss

sleep eludes me and I turn
my hand finds your warm skin
your body existing in stasis
mine grasping at sleep like mist

the night goes on without me
moonlight shows me your silhouette
tracing it to memorize it
mind flooding with images of you

tasting our first kiss
insatiably wanting to domesticate
our bleeding hearts
urgently searching for home

John Graff

Thomas Alice Woronowicz

Peel

I want
The moon’s
Mouth
Inside my
Mouth
My Bodily
Confessions
Blue fucked
Up bangs
I have found myself
Some circular
Accident
The truth
Lies further
From it
Always half
Something
But
Round

Peach

It’s love that’s
The reason I care
What my hair
Looks like

When
I am
Alone

I want to be
My own rock-
Star

Removing
Just enough
To show

The post What Does Pride Mean to You? appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

In the “We Are… Proud” section of Collecting Maryland, one of our core exhibits that shares the

“greatest hits” of the Maryland Center for History and Culture, we hope to offer visitors an overview of Queer History in Baltimore and the wider state of Maryland. While the narratives in our LGTBQ+ collections are not yet comprehensive, we hope that increasing representation in the museum will help queer Marylanders know that we value their stories. Through community outreach and relationship building, we can continue to deepen our capacity to educate visitors on this essential history. 

What I think makes this display unique is that the objects are so deeply personal, often being directly donated by the maker or user. The materials offer an additional layer beyond their historic context — from sweat-stained drag outfits to gender-affirming care items, each display case is imbued with lived experiences and authenticity. Further, most of the display cases feature collections specific to Baltimore or the Mt. Vernon neighborhood, including drag outfits from a Baltimore Drag King, the sign and disco ball from the iconic Club Hippo, and memorabilia from Baltimore premieres of John Waters’ films.

In addition to the items shown in “We Are…Proud,” visitors can see additional materials on Queer History in the H. Furlong Baldwin Library on our campus. As Baltimore gears up for Pride celebrations, I am excited to welcome new audiences and share about a collection so near and dear to my heart. Maryland history is Queer History, and MCHC is honored to help share the stories of those who fought so hard to be who they are and love who they want.

The post Photostory: From drag outfits to The Hippo disco ball, Baltimore’s queer history shines in ‘We Are…Proud’ appeared first on Baltimore Beat.

In 2009, the former location of Fort Worth’s oldest consecutive gay bar, The 651, reopened as the Rainbow Lounge. Just over a week later, on June 28 — the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall riots — Fort Worth police officers and agents from the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission stormed the bar. I remember seeing news reports of the raid on TV, another instance of violence against my various intersectional identities. Officers zip-tied and arrested patrons for public intoxication, marching them into waiting paddy wagons. One young man, Chad Gibson, was thrown to the ground so roughly he suffered a head injury and bleeding in the brain. The event ignited an international controversy, leading to the creation of Fairness Fort Worth, a local activist group that successfully negotiated sweeping reforms, including changes to the city’s anti-discrimination policies and diversity training for all city officials.

Years later, when I finally visited the Rainbow Lounge, I’d been warned it might feel anticlimactic after the much fancier, shinier spaces I’d frequented in Dallas’s gayborhood, like Station 4 and Sue Ellen’s. But Rainbow felt like home. It was tiny, yet expansive in its embrace. I bumped into a high school teacher there; classmates I didn’t know were out. We exchanged looks of understanding, forming unspoken bonds. For a night, before I came out to my family, I would bloom into full embodiment on the sticky dance floor and by the wooden bar of the Rainbow Lounge in Fort Worth.

When I moved to Baltimore, I decided I wouldn’t remain in the closet any longer; I would live in my truth as a bisexual woman. It was then I met my late friend Josh, a kindred spirit and fellow club kid. I’ll never forget the day Josh introduced me to Leon’s: post-warehouse rave in some unmarked location, followed by an after-party. Josh, not ready for the night to end, suggested Leon’s of Baltimore, a space roughly the size of Rainbow, located in Mount Vernon. This was during Pride month, and he ordered me a dangerously strong vodka sunrise. (It was “morning,” after all.) From that moment, I was hooked.

After Josh passed away, I often found solace at Leon’s, visiting our favorite bartender, who had traveled with Josh. We’d share drinks, stories, and tears. These are the bonds that form chosen families, often stemming from the people you meet in those underground spaces, places where you are allowed to move freely. So many of my closest relationships are with people I met on a dance floor. 

In researching this piece, I encountered McKenzie Wark’s concept of “xeno-euphoria,” which she describes as “the ecstasy of becoming alien to oneself, riding the strangeness of the beats of techno music into somatics that are not honed into natural wholeness or a oneness but toward technological dissociation and a relational subjectivity.” This, I believe, is the most applicable definition for what I mean when I say dance floors and queer spaces are incubators for folks to “lose themselves.” It’s not about disappearance, but about becoming part of a moment where others are also seeking connection, facilitated by the music.

These people, my chosen family, and these structures — from Rainbow in Fort Worth to Leon’s in Baltimore — are “third places.” They are sanctuaries where folks on the fringe of society — the marginalized — can congregate, find community, and locate kinship. 

They’re where people flirt, fall in love, fight, order rounds of shots, lose their keys, stumble, place dirty coins in jukeboxes, or queue up TouchTunes. With each of these small, communal acts, we affirm that we are alive. 

This historical context makes the ongoing loss of physical spaces, such as the demolition of Grand Central —  a beloved nightclub that was destroyed in 2021 by developers Landmark Partners — particularly resonant. When I first moved to Baltimore in 2016, Google searches for neighborhoods within walking distance of my school consistently pointed to Mount Vernon, lauded as “the gayborhood.” Yet, in my time here, I’ve witnessed countless brick-and-mortar queer spaces close their doors due to a global pandemic, rising rents, and gentrification. Sanchez Sanders, who transitioned to bartending during COVID after a career as a chef, observes the challenges Mount Vernon faces. 

“I think COVID was a big part of it, and the lack of foot traffic, lack of retail and grocery, the theft and vandalism as well,” he said.

Despite these closures, dance floors — whether in established clubs, temporary party spaces, or bars like Leon’s — have always been, and must continue to be, places of rapture and refuge.

Iconic brick-and-mortar spaces like the Gallery Bar, The Hippo, The Paradox, and Grand Central, along with those like O’Dell’s before my time, served as havens for survival, both spiritually and physically. What does it mean when these vital anchors of community are gone?

These losses mean the roles that music and joyful queer expression play in creating and maintaining community and resistance are even more critical. We find sanctuary when we have the freedom to be enmeshed in our countercultures. In this current political and social landscape, we long for the dancefloor, just as we ached during the pandemic lockdown to be in community again — under neon lights, the creep of fog, and the sweaty amalgamation of a grinding crowd. We long for a place to sit and have a drink with dignity, to meet a cute stranger, to not feel alien, to perhaps muster up the courage to sing karaoke. 

For queer folks, dancefloors, raves, drag watch nights, karaoke, and parties have become churches; they serve as sanctuaries. It’s not too cliché to draw parallels between religious ecstasy and the ecstasy felt on a dancefloor, where time collapses and differences dissolve. Here, music becomes a conduit for expression, connection, and radical joy in the face of oppression. These moments were critically necessary 50 years ago, and they remain so.

This vibrant community spirit — and the creation of third places — is actively nurtured by the people at the heart of these establishments. At Leon’s, figures like bartender Sanders and entertainment host Stacey Antoine are pivotal in shaping the experience. Sanders, with his Southern Baptist roots and family ties to Cameroon and Panama, believes, “bartenders set the tone.” He sees a diverse clientele, from out-of-town visitors to local regulars who range from age 21 to 70-plus, and makes it a point to ensure comfort and safety. He recalls a memorable moment with a guest who had just come out and was concerned about how he would be perceived in the community. “I told him, ‘If you want to meet people, don’t be scared. Have confidence,’” Sanders told me. This ethos of care is crucial in a world that often lacks it.

Writer and cultural theorist DeForrest Brown Jr.’s notion of  “world-building”  powerfully resonates with the way Baltimore’s LGBTQ hosts, bartenders, and emcees use music to transform spaces into havens. Dancefloors and karaoke nights offer both escape and embodiment in a terrifying and dangerous world that often seeks to erase and minimize us. This year, as Baltimore City Pride celebrates its 50th anniversary, the significance of these spaces — like Leon’s Backroom — remains paramount. My first memories of Pride — of true embodiment and true freedom — were found within these queer spaces.

Two years ago, I learned that my beloved Rainbow Lounge burned down in a fire on June 1, 2017. The loss of such a vital space in Fort Worth underscores the preciousness of enduring establishments like Leon’s, which holds the distinction of being Maryland’s oldest continuously gay bar, a testament to its resilience and the unwavering need for such sanctuaries. Stacey Antoine sees this endurance as vital. 

“Being that it’s one of only a handful of gay bars in the city that’s still standing and has zero chance of closing anytime soon,  I’d say it’s vital to the community for every reason,” he said. Sanders echoes this sentiment with hope for the future. 

“It’s a local bar and it has been around for a long time. I think we are on the right trajectory to be around for another 50 years.”

According to Antoine, the key to this incredible longevity is that Leon’s doesn’t over complicate things. It’s affordable and it’s dependable. It also adapts when it needs to. As evidence, he points to the success of the revamped Miss Leon’s pageant and the popular monthly drag show, “Karmella and the Shady Ladies.”

Nowhere is Leon’s welcoming energy and world-building more palpable than during its renowned karaoke nights, hosted three nights a week by the dynamic Stacey Antoine, with Sanders or another of Leon’s dedicated bartenders. If you go to Leon’s karaoke, be prepared to sing, but don’t feel intimidated. Originally from Harford County, Antoine has been honing his craft at Leon’s for nearly four years after moving his show from the former Grand Central Nightclub. He cultivates an atmosphere he describes as “pretty crowded, fun, and filled with eclectic talent.” 

The crowd is hilarious, jovial, intergenerational, queer, and incredibly supportive of every effort, largely thanks to Stacey Antoine’s encouragement. 

“I tell people all the time: ‘It’s just karaoke. It ain’t the Meyerhoff,’” he laughs. “‘I won’t force you on stage. You can sing from your seat. And don’t mind the audience. They aint nobody!’”

It creates truly special moments, like when he kept karaoke going for a small group celebrating a marriage on a pre-wedding night out when the rest of the city was dead. “They ended up having a blast and were very thankful,” Stacey Antoine recalls. “It was a really touching moment for them and I was just glad to be a part of their evening.”

It’s in these moments, and in the cheers for every singer, that the spirit of Leon’s truly shines, offering, as Stacey Antoine hopes, a place to “support, uplift, entertain, welcome, and provide a safe space for our LGBTQIA+ community.” Or, as he’d simply put it to a newcomer: “Come on out and have a gay ‘ol time with us and drink and sing a spell!”

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