Virginia’s New Lieutenant Governor-Elect Breaks Barriers, Brings LGBTQ+ Advocate to the Table

Pull up a seat, because Virginia’s political landscape just got a fabulous upgrade. In a state that’s often the battleground of the nation’s cultural tug-of-war, Lieutenant Governor-elect Ghazala Hashmi has made a powerful statement: the future of Virginia includes LGBTQ+ voices at the highest levels of power.

Hashmi, who has already been making headlines as a history-making leader herself, announced this week that Narissa Rahaman—the dynamic executive director of Equality Virginia—will not just be whispering advice from the sidelines. She’s stepping right into the heart of the action as a counselor on the transition team, working to shape policy, representation, and, yes, the very soul of the commonwealth’s government .

For the uninitiated, Narissa Rahaman isn’t just a name you spot at pride parades or quoted in press releases. As executive director of Equality Virginia, Rahaman has been at the front lines—fighting for marriage equality, trans rights, and protections for queer youth in schools. Her appointment isn’t about optics; it’s about expertise, lived experience, and the kind of leadership that understands the complexities of queer life in the South .

In her own words, Hashmi made it clear: “I am honored to have this diverse group of leaders join our transition. Their experience, perspective, and commitment to public service will help build an Office of the Lieutenant Governor that is responsive, innovative, and relentlessly focused on improving the lives of every Virginia resident” .

For many in Virginia’s LGBTQ+ community, seeing Rahaman at the table is more than symbolic. It’s the rare kind of political validation that says: “You belong here. You are essential. Your rights, your safety, and your joy are on the agenda.”

Let’s be real: LGBTQ+ Virginians have seen their share of whiplash in recent years, from hard-won rights to sudden attacks in school boards and statehouses. This appointment is a major shift—a move from defensive battles to proactive leadership. Rahaman’s presence on the transition team means that issues like nondiscrimination protections, health equity, and affirming education policies have a champion at the very heart of new government planning .

This isn’t just about “representation.” It’s about strategy. Rahaman’s track record is all about getting results: pushing for comprehensive LGBTQ-inclusive curricula, fighting conversion therapy, and advocating for trans healthcare access. In a state where queer and trans youth still face outsized risks—especially in rural and conservative areas—her seat at the table could be the difference between another year of platitudes and real, measurable progress .

If you’re a queer Virginian (or honestly, a queer American watching from afar), this is a moment to savor. We all know that visibility is powerful, but visibility with decision-making power? That’s a whole new level of queer magic.

Hashmi wasn’t shy about her intentions, stating, “Together, we will develop a thoughtful roadmap for the work ahead—one that ensures we are engaging communities, strengthening partnerships across the state, and preparing this office to serve with purpose and conviction from Day One” .

Rahaman’s work has long been about building coalitions—connecting the dots between LGBTQ+ rights and broader movements for racial justice, reproductive freedom, and immigrant rights. Her appointment signals a government ready to see intersectionality not as a buzzword, but as the blueprint for a just society.

Let’s not kid ourselves: what happens in Virginia rarely stays in Virginia. The appointment of an LGBTQ+ leader to a major statewide transition team sends a message across the South—and the nation. It’s a challenge to other states: if Virginia can do this, why can’t you?

For queer youth growing up in places where “out” is still a four-letter word, seeing Rahaman step into power is a lifeline. It’s a tangible reminder that progress is possible, that the machinery of government can be bent towards justice, and that queer leadership is not only possible but necessary.

And for those outside the community? Consider this your formal invitation to the future: one where queer expertise is not just tolerated, but sought after, celebrated, and trusted with the keys to the kingdom.

Of course, a seat at the table is just the beginning. The work ahead will be tough, especially in a political climate that can turn hostile on a dime. But with Rahaman in the room, you can bet that queer issues won’t be quietly shuffled to the “later” pile.

So here’s to the transition team, to new beginnings, and to a Virginia that’s ready to be as bold, diverse, and proud as its people. Or, as Rahaman herself might say, “We’re not just making history—we’re making a future where every queer Virginian can thrive”