Kathy Griffin Named "Advocate Of The Year": Comedy, Censorship, and Her Fierce Love For The Community

For decades, Kathy Griffin has been Hollywood’s mouthiest outsider—a woman whose sharp tongue, relentless wit, and brazen honesty have made her both beloved and notorious. But if there’s one group that’s always been in her corner, it’s the LGBTQ+ community. “If it wasn’t for the gay community, I wouldn’t have been able to come back,” Griffin declared recently to The Advocate, reflecting on years of controversy and comeback that would have flattened a lesser star .

Griffin’s relationship with queer audiences isn’t just professional—it’s deeply personal. From her earliest stand-up days, she’s been the comic who showed up for us, not just on Pride floats but in the trenches: at HIV/AIDS fundraisers, lobbying Congress to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” and using her platform to fight for queer lives when it wasn’t trendy, safe, or easy .

Griffin’s journey hasn’t been for the faint of heart. In 2017, the now-infamous photo of her holding a fake “severed head” resembling Donald Trump unleashed a storm that nearly ended her career overnight. She lost shows, deals, friends, and was investigated by the Department of Justice. The fallout was vicious, but Griffin never apologized for her politics or her support of marginalized folks—especially LGBTQ+ youth, who face a torrent of new anti-gay and anti-trans legislation across the U.S. .

“Being an ally isn’t just showing up at a parade with a rainbow shirt on,” she told Pride Source. “Sometimes, being an ally means being in Tennessee federal court for three years, and being in the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals, where I just lost a motion” .

Griffin is currently embroiled in a court case after publicly supporting a bullied gay teen—a case that could set precedents for free speech online, and that she says carries real consequences for anyone calling out anti-LGBTQ+ harassment. “If I lose this case, it has real repercussions for anybody posting about anybody who’s harassing gay people…This isn’t about me. I’m not fighting for me. I could have said nothing, but I’m a real ally, and I’ve been one since I was in grade school, for Christ’s sake” .

Kathy’s pain is palpable when she talks about abandonment by “the power gays” in the industry, even as “civilian gays”—her term for everyday queer folks—rallied around her. “No. The power gays absolutely abandoned me, and I say that with such a heavy heart. I’m going to try not to cry. For example, I would say the civilian gays 100% rallied around me. My friends that aren’t in the business who are gay were appalled, and they buoyed me, and they held me up, and they were my friends, and I owe them for the rest of my life” .

It’s a raw, real look at the price of true solidarity. Griffin’s story is a powerful reminder that allyship isn’t always comfortable or reciprocated. Sometimes it’s lonely, thankless, and even dangerous—but it’s always necessary, especially in a political climate where over 470 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced in the past few years, targeting everything from drag to healthcare access for transgender people .

Now, Griffin is taking her story—and her fight—on the road with her new tour, “My Life on the PTSD List.” She’s not just serving up laughs about celebrities and misadventures; she’s urging queer audiences to fight back at the ballot box. “The Supreme Court is now illegitimate. I want to make gay people laugh, and I want to stand there and go, ‘I’m OK.’ The great Gloria Steinem… I spoke to her recently, and I’m bragging, but I did. She said, ‘You tell your gays, this is it. This is it.’ As you know, your own civil rights, if Trump gets reelected, not only kiss marriage goodbye, it’s going to be real fucking hard to be an out gay person in Trump’s America. There’s my rant. I’ll go back to the funny, but I just think, because I’m talking to you, I just want you to tell, especially the young gays that think their vote doesn’t matter, your vote matters even if you live in a blue state” .

For Griffin, the stage isn’t just a place to perform—it's a platform to mobilize. Her activism isn’t performative; it’s rooted in decades of real action. She’s been honored with GLAAD’s Vanguard Award, the Trevor Project’s Lifetime Honoree Award, and West Hollywood’s Rainbow Key Award for her tireless work for LGBTQ+ causes and HIV/AIDS services .

Kathy Griffin’s tale is more than a celebrity redemption arc—it’s a mirror for queer survival and resistance. She’s weathered career-ending storms, public shaming, and personal loss. She’s survived cancer, grief, and the cruelty of cancel culture, emerging with even sharper claws and a bigger heart for her chosen family .

Her story is a rallying cry for LGBTQ+ folks and allies who know that the fight is far from over. In an era when politicians and pundits are working overtime to roll back queer rights, Griffin’s relentless honesty, vulnerability, and humor remind us that we’re not alone—and that laughter itself can be a radical act of resistance.

“I want to make gay people laugh, and I want to stand there and go, ‘I’m OK,’” she says . That’s the message Griffin is bringing to every city, every stage: through censorship, legal battles, and existential threats, queer joy persists, and so does the love between our community and those who stand with us—even, and especially, when it costs them everything.