By the time you read this in Dallas Voice, another round of legislation, litigation or cultural flashpoint will likely be underway somewhere in the country. None of it is accidental. It is coordinated, strategic and, perhaps most importantly, well-funded.
The reality we must face is this: While LGBTQ+ people and our allies have won extraordinary victories over the past decades, the opposition to our dignity has not weakened. It has evolved. It has organized. And it has invested, deeply and consistently, in building institutions, messaging pipelines, legal strategies and political power.
We are not facing a momentary backlash. We are facing a sustained movement.
And movements run on money. And our organizations are facing funding cuts at both the federal and local levels.
The funding gap we don’t talk about
Across the country, organizations aligned with what is often called the “religious right” benefit from vast, coordinated funding networks. These networks support think tanks, legal advocacy groups, media platforms and grassroots mobilization efforts. They train leaders, craft narratives and move quickly when opportunities arise.
By contrast, many LGBTQ+ organizations, especially those doing life-saving work at the local level, operate on thin margins. They stretch every dollar to provide services, advocate for justice and create spaces where people can live openly and safely.
Here in Dallas, we are blessed with a vibrant ecosystem of LGBTQ+ organizations. From community centers to advocacy groups to affirming faith communities like Cathedral of Hope, these institutions are doing transformative work every day.
They are feeding people, housing people, protecting youth, supporting mental health and standing up in the public square for our rights.
But too often, we are doing this work without the level of financial support needed to sustain and scale, it.
Visibility without investment is not enough
We are a community that shows up. We march. We celebrate Pride. We rally in moments of crisis. And those acts matter deeply.
But visibility without investment leaves our institutions vulnerable.
It is not enough to believe in equality. We must fund it.
It is not enough to celebrate identity. We must sustain the organizations that protect it.
It is not enough to resist injustice. We must resource the infrastructure that makes resistance effective.
If we do not invest in our own community, we create a vacuum that others, those who oppose our full humanity, are more than willing to fill with their own vision for the future.
What our giving actually does
When we give to LGBTQ+ organizations, we are not making a symbolic gesture. We are making tangible change possible.
You are helping a young person find safe shelter instead of sleeping on the street.
You are ensuring that someone in crisis has access to mental health care.
You are supporting legal advocacy that challenges discriminatory laws.
You are empowering faith leaders and community organizers to speak a message of inclusion and justice in spaces where it is desperately needed.
You are building a future where the next generation does not have to fight the same battles we are fighting now.
This is not abstract. It is immediate. It is measurable. And it is essential.
A call to courageous generosity
The question before us is not whether the opposition is organized; they are. It is not whether they are funded; they are.
The question is whether we will match that commitment with our own.
Will we treat our organizations as optional or as essential?
Will we give what is convenient or what is needed?
Will we assume someone else will step up or recognize that the future of our community depends on all of us?
Courage is not only found in protest. It is found in investment. It is found in the quiet, consistent decision to give, to ensure that the work continues, that the voices are amplified and that the doors remain open for those who need them most.
The future is ours to fund.
We are at a pivotal moment. The gains of the past are not guaranteed in the future. But neither is regression inevitable. What happens next will depend, in no small part, on whether we are willing to fund the future we believe in.
So give.
Give generously.
Give consistently.
Give with the understanding that your dollars are not just donations; they are declarations — declarations that our lives matter. That our stories deserve to be told. That our community will not be out-organized or out-funded in the fight for dignity and justice.
Because if our faith, our identity and our future are worth defending, they are worth funding.
The Rev. Neil Thomas is senior pastor of Cathedral of Hope UCC.