On election night 1992, Democrats across the nation were fired up. A historic number of women were running for Congress — and winning. Bill Clinton, then governor of Arkansas, was headed for the White House.

But in Colorado, the mood was decidedly different. While voters in the Centennial State helped award Clinton his first term in office, they also passed a statewide constitutional amendment that legalized discrimination against lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender residents.

The passage of Amendment 2 by 53 percent cast a dark shadow on the state. Colorado was dubbed “the Hate State.” There were boycotts against Colorado businesses such as Celestial Seasonings, the Boulder-based tea company. Organizations that had conferences planned in Denver abruptly canceled, costing the city $26 million by one estimate.

The surprising loss created another byproduct. It propelled the local and national LGBT community on a 26-year political trajectory that created the conditions that have enabled someone such as Jared Polis, an out gay man with a longtime partner and two children, to run for the state’s highest office. If elected, Polis, a Democrat, would be the first gay man ever elected governor of a state.

“We had to respond,” said Ted Trimpa, a lawyer, lobbyist and longtime gay rights activists. “The community and a number of individuals really stepped up and created an environment where LGBT people could run for office comfortably.”

Polis isn’t the only gay person on Colorado’s ballot this November. There are six LGBT candidates running for the statehouse, including the state’s first transgender candidate for the House of Representatives. If each of them wins, Colorado will have seven LGBT lawmakers at the statehouse next year. These individuals are benefiting from more than two decades of a well-financed and methodical political and social campaign to change the way Coloradans view their gay and transgender neighbors.

Across the nation, activists also are proclaiming a “rainbow wave.” A record number of 244 out candidates are running for office at various levels of government, according to the LGBTQ Victory Fund, a nonpartisan organization that aims to help elect LGBT candidates.

“We feel like we’ve already won,” said Annise Parker, the fund’s president and CEO. “When we run openly, run effectively, the community wins.”

Early foundation in Colorado

After voters approved Amendment 2, more than 100 organizations meant to mobilize the LGBT community and their allies popped up in Colorado. Arguably the most successful was Equality Colorado.

“Equality Colorado was an outgrowth of the disaster,” said Sue Anderson, the organization’s first director. “We really didn’t have a strong and viable statewide political organization that could represent us at the legislature and do the organizing and education work that needed to happen.”

Anderson and her team went to work training gay men and women on how to come out and share their stories. They also formed early bonds with leaders in the faith community, helped start the first gay-straight alliance groups in schools, and hired a rural coordinator who helped provide LGBT resources in public libraries.

“He put a lot of miles on the car,” Anderson said.

At the same time, Tim Gill, a technology entrepreneur, started his own foundation and the Gay and Lesbian Fund, which donated to civic and artistic efforts in all corners of the state. The idea was in part to normalize the words “gay” and “lesbian” for Coloradans.

“Significant investments were made to change the story about LGBTQ people,” said Daniel Ramos, the executive director of One Colorado, the state’s largest gay and transgender rights organization. “The investments were made at a time when Coloradans needed to be introduced to their LGBTQ neighbors.”

Coalitions, victories and setbacks

While the U.S. Supreme Court ultimately ruled Amendment 2 unconstitutional in 1996, it didn’t stop Colorado lawmakers — especially Republicans — from pushing anti-gay legislation at the state and federal level.

By 2004, Gill and three other wealthy Coloradans, including Polis, pooled their vast resources to help elect more Democrats to the state legislature. The goal in part was to elect enough lawmakers to stop anti-gay legislation and push incremental protections for LGBT people.

On the same night that President George W. Bush, who stumped for a constitutional amendment defining marriage between a man and a woman, won re-election, the Colorado state legislature flipped to Democratic control.

To the shock of the state’s political establishment, Colorado was no longer a Republican stronghold.

Under Republican Gov. Bill Owens, Democratic lawmakers were slow to enact a sweeping agenda. However, a bill that added protections for transgender individuals under the state’s existing hate-crime statutes did become law.

In 2006, Coloradans approved a statewide constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage and rejected a proposal to create domestic partnerships. However, Bill Ritter, a Democrat, easily won the governor’s mansion.

With Democrats controlling both chambers in the legislature and the governor’s office, lawmakers went to work passing piecemeal protections for LGBT people. New state laws included protections at work, housing and public accommodations, and adoption rights. Today, Colorado is still one of only a few states with broad protections for gay and transgender people.

Soon more LGBT people were elected, including Pat Steadman and Lucia Guzman in the state Senate, and Sue Schafer and Mark Ferrandino in the state House.

These lawmakers also assumed leadership roles within the General Assembly. Steadman would serve several years on the powerful joint budget committee. Guzman would lead the Democratic caucus until she stepped down this year. And Ferrandino became the first gay man to be speaker of the House.

After years of building momentum, Colorado’s LGBT community and its leaders launched its most ambitious effort. Steadman and Ferrandino introduced a bill during the 2011 session to create civil unions here. It would be a three-year pitched battle that included Republicans taking the extraordinary step of shutting down debate on the legislation on the second to last day of the 2012 legislative session. In doing so, they killed dozens of other bills and turned public opinion against the party. A year later, Republicans lost control of the statehouse and Gov. John Hickenlooper, a Democrat, signed civil union legislation into law.

The aforementioned electoral and legislative victories, coupled with intense grassroots activism by LGBT Coloradans, have only helped the broader public accept LGBT people — and consider voting for them.

“Americans, especially Coloradans, are ready for their elected officials to look like Colorado,” said Sonya Jaquez Lewis, an out lesbian who is running to represent a part of Boulder in the state House. “That’s what’s happening this year.”

Identity politics

Despite Polis’ historic candidacy, there are gay men who don’t plan to vote for him. One of them is Kenneth Wilkison, treasurer of the Colorado Log Cabin Republicans.

“I just don’t believe what Polis wants to do is good for Colorado,” Wilkison said, adding that he believes Colorado Republicans have moved on from their fight over LGBT rights. “I don’t fear (Republican gubernatorial candidate) Walker Stapleton reversing any of my rights as a gay person.”

What is important to him, he said, is keeping taxes low, protecting the Taxpayer’s Bill of Rights, and balancing the state’s oil and gas sector with renewable energy and the environment.

The state’s gay Republican organization has formally endorsed Stapleton and four other Republicans running for statewide office.

“For gays to vote for another gay just because he’s gay makes them a single-issue voter,” said George Gramer, president of the Colorado Log Cabin Republicans. “I’m a multi-issue voter. I’m for the economy. I’m for keeping jobs. I’m for reasonable health care.”

Supporters of Polis agree: Voters should elect the Democrat on the issues.

“Our candidates aren’t running because they’re LGBT,” said Parker, president of the Victory Fund. “They run because they want to serve their community.”

Anderson, who began Equality Colorado, put it another way.

“If Walker Stapleton suddenly came out as gay — and he isn’t — I wouldn’t vote for him because I don’t support his values and policies he espouses,” she said.

New threats, new action

A rash of “bathroom bills” in other state legislatures that would prevent transgender people from using the facilities that match their gender presentation and panic over the Trump administration have renewed activism across the country and inspired a historic number of LGBT people, people of color and women to run for office. The message from LGBT community organizers is simple: While same-sex marriage is the law of the land, the fight for full equality is far from over.

“For the first time in a long time, the community feels threatened,” Parker said. “Some of our candidates are running because of immigration issues. A huge number of trans candidates are running because they saw bad bills in state legislatures last year. They feel they’re under attack and they want do so something.”

One of those people is Brianna Titone, a Democrat running in Arvada to fill an open seat left by Rep. Lang Sais, Stapleton’s running mate. If elected, she will be the first transgender person to serve in Colorado’s General Assembly.

“After the 2016 election, it was clear to me that we needed better leadership at all levels,” she said.

Titone, a geologist, has a long history of giving back, including several years as a volunteer firefighter. While she was inspired to run in part to advance transgender rights, she said she spends most of her time talking about what matters to voters: more money for teachers and more transparency in government.

Since launching her campaign, Titone has been subjected to harassment from “trolls” on social media, she said. But her gender transition has not been an issue to voters she’s met with in her district.

“A lot of people are confused about my voice,” she said, with a laugh. “They don’t ask about it, and I don’t bring it up unless they get my pronouns wrong. I think they realize that I’m really putting myself out there. I think people just want someone to relate to.”

Update: An earlier version of this story incorrectly characterized Jared Polis’ relationship with Marlon Reis. They are partners. An earlier version also incorrectly reported the record number of LGBT lawmakers in the state legislature. That number is eight.