For half a century, the arc of LGBTQ progress in America has bent — slowly, imperfectly — toward justice. We fought for visibility, for legal protections, for the right to marry, serve openly, and live with dignity. Each generation built on the courage of the last.

And yet today, that progress is in peril. Across the country, lawmakers are rolling back protections, demonizing LGBTQ people for political gain, and trying to erase us from public life. 

Opponents of our equality are working to erase us from the Constitution, and indeed, public life. In moments like this, based on my personal involvement working with one of the most effective leaders for LGBTQ rights I find myself asking a simple question: What would Jeffrey do? 

Jeffrey Montgomery — the focus of a new documentary “America You Kill Me” and a long time Michigan activist and founder of the Triangle Foundation — was never content with quiet advocacy or compromise. He was a rabble-rouser, a strategist, and a relentless thorn in the side of powerful bigots. When politicians tried to marginalize LGBTQ people, Jeffrey didn’t politely ask for scraps. He forced the issue. 

Jeffrey Montgomery started with his own determined voice and turned it into a movement. His story is living proof that personal courage can spark national conversations about justice and inclusion. 

At a moment when the LGBTQ movement again faces hostility and regression, Jeffrey’s playbook offers lessons we would be wise to remember. 

First, Jeffrey understood the importance of punching above our weight. In the early days of LGBTQ organizing, our movement was small, underfunded, and politically marginalized. But Jeffrey refused to let opponents see us that way. Through visibility, media savvy, and relentless organizing, he made LGBTQ advocates appear larger, stronger, and more unified than our numbers alone might suggest. 

That perception mattered. Political opponents think twice before attacking a movement that looks organized, energized, and capable of mobilizing public pressure. Jeffrey knew that power is partly about reality — but also about what your opponent believes your power to be. 

Second, Jeffrey never compromised on the value of our lives. Movements make compromises all the time. Politics often requires it. But Jeffrey understood that some things are not negotiable. The basic humanity of LGBTQ people is one of them. You can’t put our basic rights on the ballot. You don’t tell people to wait their turn. There are no turns. It’s now. It’s always now. 

Too often, our opponents frame equality as something to be bargained over—as if the dignity and safety of queer people were a policy preference rather than a fundamental right. Jeffrey rejected that premise entirely. 

You can negotiate strategy. You can negotiate timelines. But you cannot negotiate the worth of human lives. 

And finally, Jeffrey understood the power of coalition. Today, one of the most effective tactics used against marginalized communities is division. If LGBTQ people can be fractured — by identity, ideology, generation, or strategy — our collective strength weakens. 

Jeffrey instinctively resisted that trap. He worked with civil rights groups, labor leaders, faith communities, civic leaders and allies across movements. He understood that the fight for LGBTQ equality was never isolated from the broader fight for justice. 

When opponents try to divide us, the answer is not retreat into smaller camps. The answer is to build broader ones. 

If Jeffrey Montgomery were here today, he would not be discouraged by the backlash we are seeing. He would recognize it for what it is: the predictable response of those who feel their power slipping away. 

And he would remind us that progress has never been linear. It has always required courage, persistence, and a willingness to challenge power directly. 

So, when the moment feels uncertain, when the political winds shift against us, and when our opponents try to make us feel small, the question remains a useful one: What would Jeffrey do? 

If history is any guide, the answer would be simple. He would make some noise. And making noise, today, means refusing to let fear, fatigue, or false unity quiet us when our lives are on the line. 

Washington Blade courtesy of the National LGBTQ Media Association.