Task Force urges renewed organizing amid growing political threats

National LGBTQ Task Force President Kierra Johnson speaks at the Creating Change conference in D.C. on Jan. 22, 2026. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

The National LGBTQ Task Force, the nation’s oldest LGBTQ advocacy organization, wrapped up nearly a week of programming as snow began to fall across the nation’s capital — a fitting backdrop for a moment defined by urgency, reflection, and resolve.

For six days, LGBTQ activists from across the country gathered at the Washington Hilton for the Task Force’s annual Creating Change conference, filling ballrooms and meeting rooms with educational sessions, workshops, and an expansive exhibit hall designed to sharpen strategies for mobilizing LGBTQ political power while building community.

The week featured everything from local leadership training to high-energy ballroom parties, but its emotional and political centerpiece was the annual State of the Movement address delivered by Task Force President Kierra Johnson.

Speaking on Jan. 22 to a packed ballroom, Johnson reflected on the movement’s accomplishments while confronting the challenges facing LGBTQ communities under President Donald Trump’s second term.

Founded in 1973 in New York, theTask Force set out to create a “powerful, unified, and organized voice” for the emerging gay rights movement. One of the organization’s most enduring contributions came years later with the launch of the Creating Change conference in November 1988, following the energy of the 1987 March on Washington. Since then, the conference has served as a cornerstone of grassroots LGBTQ organizing, offering activists a space to share knowledge, build community, and gain training aimed at advancing the movement nationwide.

That same sense of momentum — born from crisis and resistance — permeated this year’s gathering. But instead of drawing energy from a singular national march, as it did in 1988, Johnson framed the conference as a response to protests unfolding across the country against U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and aggressive immigration policies advanced by the Trump-Vance administration.

“It feels like the sky is falling, like the house is on fire, and like the time of the world is just after midnight in December during a new moon,” Johnson told the 2,000 attendees. “And you still chose to be here. For that, I am so grateful.”

Throughout the address, Johnson returned repeatedly to the idea of community as the movement’s greatest asset, thanking activists for their commitment and sacrifice.

“Each of you, in your own way, has decided that your calling is to give back to community,” she said. “You give your time, you give your money, you give your love, you give your attention, you give skill and talent to ensure that the health, dignity, and well-being of LGBTQ people is secured.”

At the same time, Johnson offered a sharp critique of past movement strategy, warning that success itself can create new vulnerabilities — particularly following major federal wins such as the U.S. Supreme Court’s Obergefell decision guaranteeing same-sex marriage and workplace protections for transgender people under Bostock v. Clayton County. Those victories, she said, risk lulling parts of the movement into a false sense of security.

“What we didn’t pay close enough attention to are the unintended consequences of winning,” Johnson said. “Winning invigorates the opposition. Winning can create insider identities that have no tolerance for those who do not already agree. Winning can produce a dangerous sense of safety and permanence.”

She cautioned against mistaking access for influence, arguing that proximity to power brokers — which many LGBTQ organizations have gained over the past decade — is not the same as wielding real power.

“We begin, when we win, to confuse proximity to power brokers with power itself,” Johnson said. “And instead of protecting our communities, we start protecting that access point of power at all costs.”

Johnson also emphasized that the true opposition is not simple disagreement, but organized, well-funded efforts deliberately aimed at dismantling LGBTQ lives. While tactics like boycotts can play a role, she stressed that lasting change requires a sustained and collective movement.

“I’m talking about money. I’m talking about influence. I’m talking about platforms deliberately, intentionally mobilized and leveraged to disintegrate our communities and eradicate our lives,” she said. “I am talking about organized opposition.”

While the far right spent years building infrastructure, Johnson argued, LGBTQ movements often turned inward, creating barriers for those not already inside the movement’s core.

“They weren’t winning, but they were building infrastructure,” she said. “And what did we do? We closed ranks in, sifted people out, and upheld purity tests instead of organizing.”

That inward turn, she said, created a vacuum — building walls where bridges should have been — leaving some LGBTQ people, particularly those with complex experiences navigating the U.S. political environment, feeling as though they no longer belonged.

“You cannot organize when belonging feels conditional,” Johnson warned. “Because people do not step in — they step back.”

Despite those challenges, Johnson pointed to ongoing attacks on voting rights as proof of the movement’s continued power.

“You don’t spend billions of dollars to make people not vote if their vote doesn’t matter,” she said. “If we didn’t still have power, they wouldn’t work this hard to take it.”

Ultimately, Johnson framed power not as visibility, but as sustained organizing rooted in real communities.

“Community is power,” she said. “Once you’re in, we don’t let you go. We embed, we stay, we invest.”

Real change, Johnson added, requires organizing where people actually live and work — not just in major coastal cities. “We go where our people are,” she said.

She closed with a reminder that survival itself is collective work — and that belonging does not require perfection.

“Perfection is not a prerequisite to belonging,” Johnson said. “Otherwise, we’re gonna be out here by ourselves.”

The National LGBT Media Association represents 13 legacy publications in major markets across the country with a collective readership of more than 400K in print and more than 1 million + online. Learn more here: NationalLGBTMediaAssociation.com.

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