Dan Woog

In the early 1990s, I was just coming out professionally. As a freelance writer – with pieces in the New York Times, USA Today and Sports Illustrated under my belt – I wasn’t really sure what to do. Sure, I worked for myself, and couldn’t be fired. And yet. And yet…
Somehow, I heard of a new organization: the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association. I contacted someone named Roy Aarons. He invited me to the first-ever convention, a couple of months away in San Francisco. The timing was perfect. San Francisco and gay writers in June. What’s not to like?
That first convention was electrifying. The Holiday Inn on Van Ness was filled with LG writers (we hadn’t yet thought about B, let alone T). For the first time ever, we were surrounded by people Just Like Us. The panels and workshops were important, interesting and educational, but the real thrill – and it was visceral – was seeing so many men and women who not only shared our sexuality, but our profession. To this day, that weekend is one of the highlights of my life.
At the same time, there was an edge of surprise. We often looked over our shoulders. We never knew who else we’d see – which colleague, editor, friend from college or high school. There were dozens of gasps of recognition, followed by “I always knew!” Or “I never knew!” Followed by hugs, then drinks at the bar. We were all there for the same reason, even if we didn’t know beforehand who we all were.
The convention ended on Sunday morning. Roy – who was as encouraging, embracing and dynamic in real life as he’d been on the phone – led a band of 40 or so of us on a cable car, down the hill to the start of the Gay Pride Parade. We marched under a banner that said “National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association.” An enormous crowd cheered for us. We cheered back, lustily.
And, being clever journalists, we came up with chants: “We’re here, we’re queer. We’re on deadline.” “We schmooze. We cruise. And then we write the news.” I remember them – and that entire weekend – vividly, nearly 20 years later.
And, nearly 20 years later, I am still a proud member of NLGJA.

And a proud member of the Roy Aarons fan club. He – and his organization – truly changed my life.