As we celebrate Pride Month across Washington state, I find myself reflecting on both how far we’ve come — and how far we still have to go. When I first came out, I was also running for public office. I’ll never forget what a political mentor said to me at the time: “I love you, Dave. But it’s too bad — now you can’t run for office.”

That was 25 years ago. Back then, the idea of an openly Gay legislator representing the working-class suburbs of South King County was virtually unheard of. But I ran. I won. And together, we made history — becoming the first openly LGBTQ+ legislator in Washington state elected outside the city of Seattle. 
And now, it’s with honor that I serve as Washington’s first out LGBTQ+ statewide executive official — albeit far too late in our history. I don’t share that story to center myself. I share it because what motivated me then still drives me today — and should drive all of us: a commitment to justice. Justice for LGBTQ+ people. Racial justice. Gender justice. Justice for tribal nations, working families, and the natural world.

That commitment is personal. I’m the son of a father with disabilities. I’m the brother of someone who has overcome addiction and criminal justice involvement. I believe deeply that everyone — regardless of background or identity — deserves dignity, respect, and opportunity.

Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” That has been my experience. When I began serving in the legislature, it was still legal in Washington to fire someone simply for being Gay. LGBTQ+ families had no legal protections or recognition.

But together, we fought for change.

We passed antidiscrimination laws. We secured domestic partnership rights. And in 2012, Washington voters made history by affirming marriage equality at the ballot box. The following year, I had the joy of marrying the love of my life.

Today, I’m honored to serve as Washington’s commissioner of public lands, leading a team of 2,200 employees at the Department of Natural Resources. I’m also proud to be Washington’s first out LGBTQ+ statewide elected executive.

At the department, our core value is simple: respect. Everyone deserves it. Everyone should feel it. No exceptions. We owe this progress to those who came before us — trailblazers like the late Sen. Cal Anderson, who courageously served as Washington’s first openly LGBTQ+ legislator; and Justice Mary Yu, the first out statewide elected official in our state. Their leadership opened doors for so many of us.

But we know the work is far from over.

We see Transgender youth being targeted across the country, used as political punching bags. And the consequences are devastating. According to the Trevor Project’s 2022 National Survey on LGBTQ Youth Mental Health, 41% of LGBTQ youth in Washington seriously considered suicide in the past year. For Transgender and Nonbinary youth, that number rises to 49%. 

That’s not acceptable. That’s not “family values.” That’s a crisis.

That’s why Pride is not just a celebration — it’s a statement. It’s visibility. It’s survival. If the only messages young people hear are messages of fear and hate — even if they’re wrapped in the language of faith and family — then silence isn’t neutral. Silence is harmful.

Young people need to see themselves reflected in leadership. Those of us with privilege and a platform have a responsibility to lift others up, to speak out, and to push forward.

Pride didn’t start as a party. It started as a protest. From Stonewall to today, every step forward has been earned — by people who stood up, spoke out, and refused to go back. This month, and every month, let’s recommit to basic truths: That all people have value. That our differences are not weaknesses but strengths. That everyone deserves justice, equal rights, and a fair shot.

That’s what Pride is about. That’s the future we’re building. Let’s keep showing up. Let’s keep standing up.

Happy Pride.