Rick Garcia, the longtime Chicago gay activist who played a key role in passing Chicago’s Human Rights Ordinance, died Jan. 12 at 69.
Garcia was a central figure in Chicago and Illinois LGBTQ+ civil rights advocacy for decades, helping to build the political infrastructure that led to expanding protections against discrimination at the city, county and state levels. He later co-founded the Illinois Federation for Human Rights—now known as Equality Illinois—which became a central force in advancing LGBTQ+ civil rights legislation across the state.
Known for a direct approach to activism and a focus on strategy, Garcia played a key role in translating grassroots power into legislative wins.
“Rick was someone who helped turn activism into infrastructure,” said Albert Williams, former managing editor of Chicago GayLife and Windy City Times newspapers, who reported on Garcia’s early activism. “He understood that winning once wasn’t enough—you had to build something that could keep winning.”
Garcia’s death prompted an outpouring of tributes from across Illinois’ LGBTQ+ community, with advocates, colleagues and friends reflecting on the impact of his decades-long work and the personal relationships he built along the way.
Richard Streetman, a close friend of Garcia’s, said in a statement that he and other loved ones were “deeply moved by the outpouring of love and support from the community,” honoring Garcia as “a pioneer and warrior for justice for all.”
From Chicago to statewide LGBTQ+ advocacy
Garcia moved to Chicago in 1986, at a moment when efforts to pass a comprehensive citywide human rights ordinance had stalled in City Council amid opposition from the Catholic Archdiocese, Williams said. Aldermen who otherwise supported civil rights protections cited religious objections as a reason they could not back an ordinance that included sexual orientation.
By the time he arrived in Chicago, Garcia had already spent years working at the intersection of faith and LGBTQ+ advocacy through New Ways Ministry, a national organization based near Washington, D.C., focused on LGBTQ+ inclusion within the Catholic Church. That experience shaped Garcia’s approach in the Chicago campaign.
“Rick understood that the ordinance wasn’t stalled because of a lack of votes—it was stalled because of cover,” Williams said. “A lot of aldermen were hiding behind religion, and Rick knew how to take that excuse away.”
Working through the Gay and Lesbian Town Meeting—a community organization formed specifically to secure passage of the ordinance—Garcia helped organize a coalition that included clergy and Catholic religious leaders, including nuns who were willing to speak publicly in support of the ordinance.
Garcia would arrange for nuns to meet directly with aldermen who said they couldn’t support the ordinance because of their faith, confronting them with a different religious perspective.
That strategy proved pivotal, and the Chicago Human Rights Ordinance passed in December 1988. The Gay and Lesbian Town Meeting disbanded shortly afterward, having completed its mission.
Art Johnston, who worked alongside Garcia during the ordinance fight, said Garcia’s instincts around media and messaging helped turn community pressure into political action.
“For quite a period of time, Rick was by far the best in our community at understanding how to work with the media,” Johnston said. “There was nobody better during some of those times.”
With the Chicago ordinance in place, Garcia and the other activists turned their attention to expanding similar protections beyond city limits, applying the same coalition-driven approach to pass similar protections at the county and state levels.
That effort led to the founding of the Illinois Federation for Human Rights, later known as Equality Illinois, with Garcia serving as its founding executive director until he and the organization severed ties in 2011. From that position, he helped build a statewide advocacy infrastructure focused on advancing anti-discrimination protections and other LGBTQ+ civil rights measures in Springfield.
“Rick Garcia was instrumental in advancing protections for LGBTQ+ people in Illinois, including his critical role in the effort to add sexual orientation and gender identity to the Illinois Human Rights Act in 2006,” said Myles Brady Davis, Equality Illinois’ director of communications.
Garcia was also a consistent advocate for the transgender community.
According to a statement from Jim Bennett, director of the Illinois Department of Human Rights, Garcia played a critical role in shaping the Illinois Human Rights Act, insisting that gender identity and gender-related expression be explicitly included alongside sexual orientation protections.
“He would not support the bill without explicit inclusion,” Bennett said. “As a result, Illinois became one of the first states in the nation to clearly and fully protect transgender, nonbinary and gender-nonconforming individuals from discrimination.”
After his work helping to build Equality Illinois, Garcia continued his statewide advocacy through Civil Rights Agenda, an organization founded by attorney Jacob Meister to focus on advancing LGBTQ+ equality through legislative and legal strategy in Illinois.
“From the Chicago Human Rights Ordinance in 1988 to marriage equality in 2013, Rick Garcia was an essential force behind decades of LGBTQ+ policy victories in Illinois,” Meister said. “He worked tirelessly in Springfield to turn those goals into law.”
After his time with the Civil Rights Agenda, Garcia went on to work within government, including a role with the Cook County Sheriff’s Office and, most recently, the Illinois Secretary of State’s Office. He also ran for a seat on the Metropolitan Water Reclamation District board in 2022—although he lost the race.
Building coalitions across movements
Garcia’s organizing was also shaped by his identity as a Latino gay man and his belief that LGBTQ+ civil rights work could not be separated from broader struggles around race, faith and political power.
Robert Castillo, a fellow Latino gay activist who worked alongside Garcia during the fight for the Cook County Human Rights Ordinance in the 1990s, said Garcia understood how visibility and messaging shaped political outcomes.
Castillo interviewed Garcia for a three-part series that was published in En La Vida in 1997.
“He was always vocal and visible when it came to the rights and dignity of the LGBTQ+ community,” Castillo said. “Garcia was a master on how to get media attention for our struggles and giving the perfect sound bite.”
In a statement following his death, ALMA Chicago, an advocacy organization for Latino LGBTQ+ people, emphasized Garcia’s belief that LGBTQ+ progress depended on solidarity across movements.
“Rick cared deeply about the interconnectedness of our movements,” said Manuel Hernández-Nuñez, executive director of ALMA Chicago. “He believed that advancing LGBTQ+ rights meant confronting every barrier to equality, from discrimination and violence to exclusion from political life and public policy.”
Garcia’s coalition-building also extended into religious communities, particularly among LGBTQ+ Catholics. Through his work with New Ways Ministry, he advocated for LGBTQ+ inclusion within the Catholic Church at a time when many activists viewed faith institutions as uniformly hostile.
Sister Jeannine Gramick, a co-founder of New Ways Ministry, said Garcia combined political instinct with a deep commitment to faith.
“Rick was lively, fun to be with, had good political and PR instincts, and most importantly for our ministry, had a deep love for the Catholic Church,” Gramick said. “He wanted to help make the Catholic Church a spiritual home for LGBTQ people.”
Personal impact and mentorship
Garcia’s advocacy also showed up in his personal relationships.
Jackie Lynn, founder of the construction business Heels and Hardhats, said Garcia was instrumental in helping her pursue women-owned business certification as a transgender woman. After Lynn struggled to find work after her transition, Garcia helped her understand state requirements, prepare documentation and navigate bureaucratic hurdles as she built her own business.
“He didn’t just cheer me on,” Lynn said. “Rick helped me do the work. He explained the process, helped me get my paperwork in order and made sure I was taken seriously.”
But Garcia’s support extended beyond the certification. He checked in regularly, offered advice without judgment and consistently showed up for Lynn during her toughest moments, including hovering like a “mother hen” after one of her surgeries.
“That’s just who Rick was,” Lynn said. “He didn’t disappear when the cameras were gone. He stayed.”
Garcia was preceded in death by his longtime partner, Ernie Hunsperger, who died in 2020. Friends said Hunsperger was a central presence in Garcia’s life.
While Garcia’s public life was marked by strategy and confrontation, those closest to him described a deep sense of loyalty, humor and care for his loved ones.
“While many knew Rick as a fierce and legendary activist who spent decades fighting for equality, justice and dignity in Illinois and beyond, we knew him as a man of immense warmth, sharp wit, and a fierce commitment to his convictions,” Streetman said.
Streetman said that balance—between public fight and private care—was what stayed with those who knew Garcia best.
“His work helped shape history, but his true impact was felt in the lives of the individuals he empowered and the community he helped build,” Streetman said.