An LGBTQ activist is battling the Westboro Baptist Church in Pokémon Go. Yes really.

It's only been out for a few days, and Pokémon Go is already an international phenomenon, with players around the world doing what they can to "catch 'em all."

One of the more interesting stories, however, comes from Topeka, Kansas, home of the Westboro Baptist Church.

In the real world, the Westboro Baptist Church is known mostly as a hate group. But in the world of Pokémon Go, the church is listed as a gym, meaning it can be "fought for" by nearby players. Locals looking to troll the notorious church jumped at the opportunity.


Over the weekend, someone with a Clefairy Pokémon nicknamed "LoveIsLove" took control of the gym:


Amazing, right?

The church responded with its usual brand of cartoon-villain-like hatred.


I was interested in finding out who was behind the "LoveIsLove" Clefairy, and I had a pretty good idea of where to start.

I had a hunch that Davis Hammet, director of operations at the organization Planting Peace, might be the human behind the Clefairy.

Planting Peace is a nonprofit best known for the Equality House, a rainbow-colored house located across the street from the Westboro Baptist Church. Equality House bills itself as a symbol of compassion, peace, and positive change, and it serves as a resource center for Planting Peace's human rights and anti-bullying initiatives.


All screenshots courtesy of Davis Hammet.

In other words, Equality House strives to be Westboro's polar opposite — and it does a pretty good job.

Interestingly, Equality House is also included in the game as its own Pokéstop, a place where players can refuel on potions, Pokéballs, and other items.

In contrast to Westboro Baptist Church being a gym — a place of battle — it all kind of makes sense in its own way.

I reached out to Hammet, who told me that while he could confirm the person behind the "LoveIsLove" Clefairy was a teammate who helped take control of the WBC gym, he didn't know their identity in the real world.

In the days since "LoveIsLove" took control of the Westboro gym, its ownership has changed hands several times.

Hammet had an idea: He would win the gym back.

He hung up the phone and headed across the street to reclaim what was once his.

Along the way, he ran into a Staryu and sent along a photo of the the wild Pokémon with one of Westboro's hateful signs looming close behind.

It was certainly a sight to behold.


There, he and his Pokémon, which he nicknamed "Stop Hate!" won back control of the church. It was a symbolic victory, declared in the name of love and trolling.

Neat, right? All in a day's work, Hammet said.

"Planting Peace counters major messages of hate wherever they are, from Pokémon Go to the Republican convention."

Equality House attracts around 150 visitors per day, and with its new status as a Pokéstop, it's only seen traffic increase over the past few days.

The game may seem silly to some, but for others, it's having a big effect on their lives.

The Westboro Baptist Church battle is just one of many interesting narratives that have emerged from Pokémon Go's release.

Others include stories of strangers becoming friends and people claiming that the game's structure has helped them cope with depression.

More than 20 years since the Pokémon brand hit the U.S., it's still going strong.

Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
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Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

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"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

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A few years a go, American singer-songwriter Yebba Smith shared a solo a capella version of a part of "Bridge Over Troubled Water," in which she just casually sits and sings it on a bed. It's an impressive rendition on its own, highlighting Yebba's soulful, effortless voice.

But British singer Jacob Collier recently added his own layered harmony tracks to it, taking the performance to a whole other level.

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Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
True

Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

When John Scully was born, America was in the midst of an epidemic: tens of thousands of children in the United States were falling ill with paralytic poliomyelitis — otherwise known as polio, a disease that attacks the central nervous system and often leaves its victims partially or fully paralyzed.

"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

Keep Reading Show less