You can still get a decent car wash at Cactus on North Federal Highway in Fort Lauderdale, but you can't read SFGN there anymore.
SFGN Publisher Norm Kent celebrated the first anniversary of his radio show this week, but not with the party of guests he hoped for and wanted.
For so many, 2020 has been a year you would rather forget. No, it is a year to remember.
U.S. Christian groups spend millions in Africa to stop LGBT progress, and LGBT employees in Japan stay in the closet.
OUTshine LGBTQ+ Film Festival continues its monthly 954 GLOW series with a special screening of “Swan Song” on Saturday, July 24 at 5 p.m. at the Gateway Cinema, 1820 E. Sunrise Blvd. in Fort Lauderdale.
These winners were chosen by readers for SFGN's Best of Miami-Dade's Restaurant, Politician, and more.
“If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.” - Harvey Milk
The first of a four-part series.
The Florida Agenda used to publish news. Now it just makes news.
If Fort Lauderdale Mayor Dean Trantalis steps down to run for Congress, gay City Commissioner Steve Glassman says he’ll consider entering the race to succeed him.
(WB) France and Greece this week announced they will allow gay and bisexual men to donate blood without restrictions.
This week read about the possibility of Lewis Freese becoming the first male model on Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, JoJo Siwa embracing her sexuality after handling the backlash of coming out, and Lady Gaga's third album re-entering the charts.
(WB) Yariel Valdés González began his new life of freedom in this country a year ago today.
(WB) A gay man from Guatemala who has asked for asylum in the U.S. runs a project that helps LGBT asylum seekers in a Mexican border city.
When I write my columns for SFGN, sometimes I must remember all my readers were not 18 years old in 1968, that some of you may not remember Vietnam, Watergate or Woodstock. Some of you may not even know George Carlin.
The scariest thing to happen this Halloween was the fact that Halloween was almost canceled.
At a recent commission meeting, a resident in our community referred to me as “living in the world of the Jetsons” because I expressed a desire for our city to focus on other modes of transportation in addition to cars.
People shouted, security was called, and school board members caved.
In 2010, SFGN was born. This is the beginning of our 11th year, but it’s the 20th anniversary of a free gay press in Broward County.
The entire WWNN Radio network, which consists of 5 FM and AM radio stations, and the Internet, went offline Monday morning, and they are reliant upon Comcast for their signal, which says they will not have the station back online before 2:30 p.m.
Norm Kent, co-founder of South Florida Gay News, announced Wednesday he would be stepping aside as publisher and naming Jason Parsley his successor at the publication.
Forget what the pundits are not telling you. You have me.
Fifty years ago, as a sophomore at the Harvard of Hempstead, Hofstra University, I won the college’s Public Speaking Contest. I was so proud.
I grew up and went to school in the shadow of the World Trade Center. The morning of September 11, 2001 is etched into my soul, now and forever. They blew up the place I called home.
I am just a columnist and I have no mysterious insight into the anniversary of the attack on America 20 years ago this Saturday.
One year ago, before a pandemic would change our lives forever, the Mayor of Wilton Manors Justin Flippen died suddenly of a brain aneurysm.
All signs indicate that the streets of Wilton Manors will be packed this weekend.
As you turn your television sets on next week, you will hear trial managers from the House of Representatives presenting evidence against the former President of the United States in the U.S. Senate.
There is nothing more unsurprising than Donald Trump’s refusal to accept defeat. The witch who is not dead yet is refusing to die. The world is celebrating anyway.
Life is a blank tablet. We complete the slate each day with the decisions we make. We color it in with pastels of pleasure or portals of pain. It’s our call, our pencil, our paintbrush.
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