It wasn’t just sequins and speeches at WorldPride 2025 in Washington, D.C.—something far more intimate unfolded inside the gothic walls of St. Thomas’ Parish. House Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi, no stranger to the fight for LGBTQ+ rights, joined the Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington, D.C., to unveil a deeply personal tribute: panels from the AIDS Memorial Quilt made in honor of chorus members lost during the height of the HIV/AIDS crisis.
The display—somber, beautiful, and heart-wrenchingly queer—featured more than just fabric and thread. It resurrected voices silenced too soon, many in the ’80s and ’90s when the epidemic ravaged the gay community. “These are our people,” said Michael Hughes, the chorus’s longtime outreach manager. “About 100 members of our chorus died of AIDS. A hundred voices silenced.”
Those numbers aren’t just statistics—they’re legacies. Stitched into every panel is grief, yes, but also pride, rage, and resilience. The exhibit was born from a class visit where students read Angels in America—a generation too young to remember ACT UP or Reagan’s silence. Chorus members realized the stories weren’t just fading—they were vanishing.
So they hunted down the quilt pieces. Two and a half months of digging through the National AIDS Memorial archives, the Names Project, even the Library of Congress. Thirty-three names confirmed. Each one an echo. “Some we remembered personally,” said Hughes.
And that setting? Not just a church. St. Thomas’ was one of the few sanctuaries in D.C. that would even hold funerals for AIDS victims when others turned them away. That kind of bravery didn’t go unnoticed. Pelosi herself showed up not just to pose with the quilt, but to feel it. And honey, she did.
She got candid, admitting she once doubted the power of the quilt. “I thought it was a bad idea,” Pelosi said. “But I was wrong. The beauty was in the art. And the art became the most unifying thing.” In her signature firebrand style, she recalled being dismissed for speaking about AIDS in Congress. “That’s why I came here. I came to fight.”
Pelosi didn’t hold back, crediting LGBTQ+ activists—not politicians—as the ones who truly changed the game. “The real miracle was the outside mobilization of the LGBTQ+ community who refused to be silent. That’s what made the difference.”
And that’s the real tea: This isn’t just a historical display for Pride Month. It’s a tapestry of trauma and defiance that still speaks. It reminds the queer community—especially the younger generation—that our freedom was stitched together by people who didn’t get to see this moment. It’s not just about honoring the dead; it’s about fueling the living.
The exhibit remains open through Sunday. If you’re in D.C., don’t just go for the parties—go for the panels. Go for the history. Go for the voices. Because every stitch has a name, and every name deserves to be remembered.