Jerry Sloan
2025
Local Activist · CoFounder of CFD
Jerry Sloan, co-founder of the Sacramento LGBT Community Center and lifelong champion of LGBTQ+ and secular rights, is best known to many for his landmark 1984 lawsuit against televangelist Jerry Falwell. Sloan’s life was defined not by a single headline, but by decades of tireless, behind-the-scenes activism that shaped social justice in Sacramento and beyond.
Originally from Kansas City, Missouri, Sloan “came out” in 1960, a brave stance during an era when living authentically as a gay person could mean losing your job, your safety, or your life. He refused to hide; he joined marches, defied bigotry, and counseled those rejected by their churches or families. His Baptist upbringing, and study at Bible college later, gave him uncommon insight into the language of the religious right — a skill he used masterfully to expose hypocrisy and defend LGBTQ+ communities.
In Sacramento, Sloan became a beacon of leadership, helping to found the Lambda Community Center in the 1980s (the precursor to today’s Sacramento LGBT Community Center). His goal was to create a safe, supportive place for LGBTQ+ people to find connection and resources.
We needed a space that said, “You belong.” That was always the point.
Sloan made national headlines in 1984 when he confronted Rev. Jerry Falwell on a live TV broadcast. Falwell had denied slandering the gay-affirming Metropolitan Community Church, despite having called it “a vile and satanic system.” When Falwell declared, “I’ll give you $5,000 if you can produce that tape,” Sloan did. Falwell then refused to pay, so Sloan sued and won. The court enforced the promise, affirming the truth on public record.
I did it for the principle of the thing. [Falwell’s] statements are dangerous to the gay and lesbian community. He has said disastrous things about various and sundry people, and he’s always tried to squirm out of it. … [He] indicated that I was a liar and that I was not a reliable person, [so the lawsuit] was a matter of personal integrity.
Rather than pocket the money, Sloan donated much of it to help open the community center. That was who he was: someone who transformed private victories into public good. Friends and colleagues often described him as generous, persistent, and disarmingly cheerful. Even later in life, navigating events in an electric wheelchair and flying his rainbow flag, he remained fully engaged — always smiling, always active.
Sloan was also a vocal secular activist, believing firmly in the separation of church and state. He served as president of Atheists and Other Freethinkers and co-founded Sacramento Freethought Day (now California Freethought Day). In 2019, that same event honored him with long-overdue recognition. Taking the stage, he used his brief remarks, not to thank the crowd, but to urge support for Freedom of Religion Day.
We must never let religious liberty be redefined as the right to discriminate.
Until his passing, Sloan continued advocating with humility and purpose. David Heitstuman, CEO of the Sacramento LGBT Community Center, remembered him as “generous, influential, and a tenacious activist… [who] embodied the spirit of the movement and will be missed.”
Jerry Sloan didn’t seek applause. But in life — and legacy — he earned it.