In Dhaka, Bangladesh, a young gay man who had traveled five hours to meet us at the U.S. ambassador’s residence spoke softly about the violence he endured. For years, activists like him would meet with U.S. officials to tell their stories, trusting our government to publish their truth for the world to hear. Last week, the Trump administration betrayed that trust and cast aside decades of bipartisan work. Instead of fair and accurate reporting, it systematically deleted almost all references to abuse and persecution of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and intersex (LGBTQI+) people in the 2024 U.S. Department of State Country Reports on Human Rights Practices, known as the Human Rights Reports (HRRs).

Mandated by Congress since the 1970s, the HRRs cover every country in the world. They are an essential resource for courts, governments, and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in evaluating human rights abuses, allocating resources, and crafting policy. Though the reports originally did not cover anti-LGBTQI+ violence, persistent education and advocacy from our community led Republican and Democratic administrations, including the last Trump administration, to document abuses based on sexual orientation, gender identity, and sex characteristics annually for the past two decades.

When we served as the Office of the U.S. Special Envoy for LGBTQI+ Rights, these reports were a priority. During our service, we reviewed and incorporated reporting from our embassies, the UN, NGOs, universities, media, and — most importantly — from survivors themselves. By the time we left government in January, every country’s report contained a dedicated, robust section documenting abuses against LGBTQI+ people.

These sections filled a void. They mapped where U.S. investments in human rights could do the most good, reinforcing work by human rights defenders, foreign governments, and allies to make the world safer for LGBTQI+ people. They helped asylum judges evaluate claims from LGBTQI people fleeing persecution. They told activists that their struggle was seen.

This year, the Trump administration did the opposite. After a long delay, they released them last week during the congressional summer recess in order to bury the truth. They erased whole categories of abuse and watered-down others, including against women and girls, workers, indigenous peoples, people of African descent, Roma, and LGBTQI+ people. The LGBTQI+ section was deleted outright. A keyword search across all the 2024 reports we’ve read yields almost nothing: no “LGBTQI+,” virtually no “sexual orientation,” no “gender identity,” no “intersex.” What few references remain are shortened, sanitized, and buried deep.

Read the 2024 chapters for Uganda and Russia, and you might believe there are no LGBTQI+ people or abuses in either country. But read the report from 2023 and you’ll see 45 reports of anti-LGBTQI+ abuses in Uganda and 36 in Russia. Clearly, it is not possible to resolve such systematic abuse in one year. Instead, our State Department just removed any reference to most of the most egregious abuses of LGBTQI+ people worldwide. 

In Iraq, for example, parliamentarians passed an anti-LGBTQI+ law that equates homosexuality with “prostitution,” and punishes same-sex relations with up to 15 years in prison. But that law, reported on in 2023, gets no mention. Same in the Kyrgyz Republic, where a nationwide “LGBTQI+ propaganda” law forced a shutdown of perhaps the country’s oldest LGBTQI+ service provider. No mention. And, in Afghanistan, unspeakable acts of anti-LGBTQI+ violence and abuse at the hands of the Taliban, all reported last year, are gone too.

This erasure is deliberate. It tells authoritarian governments they can abuse minorities with impunity. It also signals to Americans that LGBTQI+ equality is negotiable here at home, too, landing just as the Supreme Court received a petition to overturn marriage equality.

But here is the truth: erasure has never defeated us. Visibility has always been our movement’s most powerful tool — and history shows it cannot be permanently denied. From Stonewall to marriage equality in the United States to countries around the world that have struck down sodomy laws and codified transgender rights, LGBTQI+ people have always overcome silence with courage and persistence. Across continents, when they try to erase us, we turn exclusion into progress.

The administration’s refusal to report on human rights abuses of LGBTQI+ people and other marginalized groups is a political act, not an accident. We urge you: call your U.S. senators and representatives today via the Capitol switchboard, (202) 224-3121, and ask them to confront the administration for failing to do its job on the HRRs and pass Senate bill S. 2611 mandating that future reports cover LGBTQI+ rights and other key categories. We urge other governments to expand their own reporting to rigorously document and condemn abuses. All of us can fill the gap by elevating high-quality data from NGOs, universities, and think tanks that are already setting the global standard for reporting on the status of LGBTQI+ people around the world.

The administration may rewrite its reports to fit its narrow view of the world, but it cannot erase the courage of those who tell their stories or the victories we have already won. Our history as LGBTQI+ Americans proves that visibility, once claimed, cannot be buried for long. The task before us is simple and urgent: to insist on truth, to defend it in every forum, and to carry it forward until equality is beyond erasure.

Jessica Stern is a Senior Fellow at the Carr-Ryan Center at the Harvard Kennedy School and co-founder and principal of the Alliance for Diplomacy and Justice, an organization co-founded by eight former ambassadors, special representatives, and special envoys advocating for human rights in U.S. foreign policy. She is the former executive director of Outright International and the former U.S. Special Envoy for the Human Rights of LGBTQI+ Persons. 

Suzanne B. Goldberg is the Herbert and Doris Wechsler Clinical Professor of Law at Columbia Law School and former senior advisor in the Office of the Special Envoy to Advance the Human Rights of LGBTQI+ Persons.

Reggie Greer is a Global LGBTQI+ Fellow at the Harvard Kennedy School and a former Biden-Harris Administration appointee, serving as Senior Advisor to the U.S. Special Envoy to Advance the Human Rights of LGBTQI+ Persons as well as White House Director of Priority Placement and Senior Advisor on LGBTQI+ Engagement.  

Cruising once meant lusty side-glances in our cities’ inconspicuous public parks, pubs, and even the phone booths at Macy’s. Nowadays it’s the far too familiar swipe, grammatically flawed DM, and the vast sea of headless torso pics. Grindr, once the ever so modest rosebud of today’s digital gay cruising, has now bloomed into so much more, upping its game with new features similar to other social media platforms, infusing it with AI matchmaking, and uncensored content under one rainbow‑tinted roof. Is the only connection that matters these days a decent Wi-Fi connection? Arguable.

Grindr’s legacy began as the grid‑style, location‑based hookup platform that we all know and love… to delete only to reinstall two days later. Simple, sexy, and surface-level satisfying. Today, however, Grindr is going under a bit of a nip/tuck. Infused with AI‑powered personalization (think of it like an AI wingman), global discovery (“Discover”) and travel tools like “Explore Heatmap” and “Travel Pass” that give you jet‑setting Gayborhood vibes in real time.

Already at play is the new feature Right Now, a lusty live‑feed not too different from a disappearing story on poppers – post a pic or text that vanishes after an hour – with users now able to signal, “get in me bro,” getting straight to the di… to the point.

But Grindr hasn’t stopped there. Queue Grindr Presents, a hot hot hot new in‑app content hub that offers all types of queer media like video series (hello, Katya’s Who’s The A-hole?), playlists, editorials, behind-the-scenes tour clips, and then some. A pinch of Instagram, a touch of TikTok, a mouthful of YouTube, all intertwined into our shiny new Grindr.

At the core, it’s your hookup app and a commune of queer media. Your one‑stop stop shop for one (hopefully) uncensored and fabulously fae content feed. Grindr describes it as “an unapologetically safe space where the community can be themselves, be heard, and be fabulous without fear of suppression.” Cool, yes, but what about the unfiltered side of that freedom? 

With this digital facelift, Grindr Presents could quite possibly be a girthy gold mine. For adult content creators, it has the potential to be the new brightly lit stage for visibility to fuel income. Expand your brand beyond X, Bluesky, and other password‑protected peen-clad platforms. Get attention from a captive (and c*ck-hungry) audience right when they’re browsing for… connection.

For creators, the above-mentioned AI features help users reconnect. A‑List picks out your hottest yet perhaps more reluctant potential matches, giving creators more chances for recurring benefactors. Chat summaries allow casual viewers to re‑engage without repeating the same flirtatious verbiage. Meanwhile, global discovery tools have the potential to reach new audiences for your content without a passport or risking flying out from Newark.

Let’s talk about Sniffies for a moment. For those who are unfamiliar, Sniffies is our beloved map‑based cruising platform that didn’t bat an eyelash at explicit photos and mapped nearby users and cruising grounds worldwide. It made its iOS debut in March 2025 only to be yanked by Apple around late May due to “ongoing content restrictions” despite implementing a “Safer Work Mode.” The website remains, but the app was scrapped.

This brings up a deliciously delicate question: could Grindr face the same fate? Both Grindr and Sniffies cater to queer cruising, and both push sexual content boundaries of the status quo. The difference is that Grindr has been Apple‑approved to this day. It does have the authority to sanitize profile pictures (would you settle for PG-13?) and frames itself as “dating” as opposed to cruising or hooking up. Sniffies’ unapologetically overt purpose to get down likely was the catalyst for a multitude of sanitized corporate scrutiny whereas Grindr’s more nuanced facade was given the green light.

Still, with Grindr Presents delivering uncensored queer media, even if curated, the Apple gods might clutch their pearls. Particularly in our current political climate where queer content is increasingly met with rigid censorship. But Grindr’s mainstream status and framing as a “social hub” rather than purely pornographic might give it more freedom, for the time being at least.

With Grindr being so free from censorship and regulation, it teeters on the familiar fine line between freedom of speech from salacious to unsavory. Let’s look at X as an example, the same platform that gave voice to the Black Lives Matters Movement while also holding space for white supremacists. On one side of the coin, no censorship means creative freedom, raw authenticity, spontaneous connection, and radical queer expression. On the flip side, it opens the door for hate, trolling, fetishization, and unsafe content to flourish if left unchecked, especially for vulnerable communities.

Grindr’s task then is to enable expression without sliding into the waters of harmful content or hate speech. The platform’s safety, moderation, and responsibility will inevitably be tested. Without a watchful eye, Grindr Presents could become a megaphone for extremist and regressive voices, or at the very least, spotlight internal community biases. Yes, free speech is hot, but unmoderated speech can be a real buzzkill.

Only time will tell which trajectory Grindr is set on. Ignite an eruption of queer creativity and creator‑centric monetization, or get tangled in regulatory red tape, or worse, push back from within the community. Grindr has evolved from a quintessential hookup app into a multifaceted  platform functioning as a gay social hub and media outlet.  In today’s climate of growing anti‑queer censorship, the challenge will be striking a balance between moderation and freedom of expression.

So, sweet little cruisers, charge your iPhone, swipe that grid, and drop into Grindr Presents.  Let your curated content ride the wave. The digital cruising scene is evolving, and Grindr is the savvy (and maybe scandalous) chauffeur ushering us into a new day and age of getting that d. Let’s buckle up and pop our PrEP. It’s gonna be a wild ride.

By John M. Erickson, West Hollywood City Councilmember and Candidate for California
State Senate District 24

California is home to some of the most innovative thinkers and boldest visions in the world. We have led the way on human rights and climate change. Yet sometimes, interpersonal politics get in the way of implementing the simplest, most straightforward ideas—even when it means saving lives. 

A glaring case in point is what is happening on Fountain Avenue—a street that twists and turns from Los Angeles through West Hollywood and has become a hazard that can easily be fixed by infrastructure changes, but has been caught up in a nonsensical process that has become more political than practical. 

Since March 2021, just a few months after I was sworn in to the West Hollywood City Council, I authored legislation to redesign Fountain Avenue because of the weekly near-fatal or fatal accidents that occurred there. My proposal was straightforward: add protected bike lanes, widen sidewalks, and calm traffic so that people can move safely whether they’re walking, biking, or driving.

The council voted 5–0 in favor. The public supported it. Experts endorsed it. The need was beyond obvious.

And yet—here we are, six years after that first vote, and nothing has changed. The City Council has taken six separate votes just to approve a street design we unanimously agreed on in 2021. Why?

I believe it is because in our car-centric society, age-old ideas of public safety and interpersonal politics have gotten in the way of upholding the first responsibility of an elected official: to keep people safe.  In the meantime, multiple people have been struck and killed by cars on Fountain Avenue, the most recent happening right across the street from my home. Every day we delay implementing the changes we approved years back, we are jeopardizing people’s lives, and as one public commenter said at our last city council meeting, the process is killing people.

This is not just a West Hollywood problem. This is a California problem. Across our state, commonsense projects that would make communities safer, greener, and more livable are caught in an endless tangle of redundant approvals, over-engineered reviews, and bureaucratic inertia. We’ve built a system that treats progress—even public safety—as something to be studied into submission rather than acted upon with urgency.

We need structural reform to change that. Here’s all it should take to make our streets safer for everyone:

1. Set clear timelines for infrastructure changes—and stick to them. If a city council votes to
   approve a project concept, the clock should start. Departments and agencies must meet
   hard deadlines for design, environmental review, and groundbreaking. Endless “re-
   authorizations” only add delay and cost lives and waste taxpayer money on this endless
   cycle.
2. Limit duplicative votes. Six council votes for a single street project is absurd, and frankly,
   maddening. All it should take is one vote to approve the concept, one vote to approve the
   final design, and then build it. We need to get back into the business of doing things rather
   than talking about them to death.
3. Empower staff to act. Once elected leaders set policy direction, professional staff should
   be able to carry it out without returning to the council for permission every step of the way.
   Accountability shouldn’t lead to paralysis.
4. Adopt “safe streets first” protocols. If a corridor is identified as high-injury, safety
   improvements should be fast-tracked—not forced to compete with routine maintenance
   projects for years on end.

I am working to implement these changes—not just for Fountain Avenue, but for every community waiting on a safer crosswalk, a protected bike lane, a new housing development, or a climate-resilient infrastructure project.  Because if we truly value human life as we claim, our actions cannot sit idle in a staff report. They must mean more than cutting a ribbon or holding a vigil at the site of a fatal accident.

The time has come to take swift action to legislate the infrastructure change process, so that our actions can live up to our number one responsibility as elected officials: keeping the public safe, whether they are in a car, on a bicycle, or walking.

Over the past few decades, LA’s Westside has changed rapidly. Rents have skyrocketed. The median home now costs over 12 times the median household income—one of the worst ratios in the state. Our housing shortage is pricing out the immigrants, artists, workers, people of color, and young people who make the area so vibrant.

As three elected officials under 40 representing West Hollywood, Santa Monica, and Culver City, we’ve experienced this crisis firsthand. Countless young people in our cities can’t afford to build a life in the communities they grew up in, and others who made their home on the Westside because of its inclusivity are now being displaced by a housing market becoming more unfriendly every year.

For decades, West Hollywood has been a refuge for LGBTQ+ people who couldn’t live openly elsewhere, and both Santa Monica and Culver City were home to large working-class communities. But today’s housing costs are pricing out many of the Westside’s young queer people, workers, Black and brown residents, and seniors hoping to retire. 

The affordability crisis is hitting our queer communities especially hard. LGBTQ+ people in LA County are more likely to rent their homes –and more likely to be cost-burdened by housing – than their straight counterparts. Queer people are twice as likely to have experienced homelessness within the past five years. For trans and nonbinary folks, the difference is even more stark. 25% of trans and nonbinary people in LA County are currently unhoused compared to 1% of the general population.

We understand that the housing shortage has been a direct result of decades of policy failures in our cities – and it’s beyond time we finally address it with urgency. If we want the Westside to remain a welcoming place –not just for the wealthy, but for everyone –we have to make it possible for more people to live here. That means building more homes.

Enter SB 79, a bill under consideration in the state legislature that would make it legal to build small apartment buildings near major transit stops. It’s desperately needed across LA —but especially in communities like ours, where access to cleaner air, strong schools, and good jobs should be available to more than just long-time homeowners and the wealthy. 

Too many neighborhoods around LA’s transit stations are still reserved exclusively for single-family homes, even as taxpayers have invested nearly $80 billion in expanding our public transit system. That keeps housing costs sky high and prevents working families from living anywhere near them.

The result is both unjust and inefficient: underused transit, supercharged housing prices, and the workers our city relies on being subjected to hours-long commutes.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

We know that when there’s housing near transit, people use it. At stations like MacArthur Park and Wilshire/Vermont—which are surrounded by apartments—tens of thousands of riders board each day. And when we reduce car dependence, we also reduce pollution: climate experts estimate that adding homes near transit can cut climate-warming pollution by up to 31%.

Some worry that new housing causes displacement. But history and research show the opposite. When we don’t build enough homes, demand spills over into older, more affordable neighborhoods — driving up rents and pushing low-income renters out. By making room for more people, we’re actively reducing pressure on existing tenants.

On the Westside, we’ve fallen behind. We’ve created tens of thousands of high-paying jobs, but built far fewer homes; indeed, the populations of Santa Monica, Culver City, and West Hollywood haven’t grown meaningfully in over 50 years. That stagnation, driven by restrictive zoning, has priced out all but the most affluent.

SB 79 gives us a chance to change course.

This is about more than zoning. It’s about who gets to live here and what kind of communities we want to be. Are we comfortable becoming a place of diminishing diversity, where only the wealthy can belong? Or can we foster places where teachers, nurses, service workers, artists, LGBTQ+ people, and young families can still build their future?

We’re proud to represent cities committed to tackling this crisis head-on. With SB 79, our state will take a major step toward a more affordable, inclusive future.

Chelsea Lee Byers is the Mayor of West Hollywood, Jesse Zwick is a Santa Monica City Councilmember, and Bubba Fish is a Culver City Councilmember.

SYRACUSE, Italy — It was shortly after 7 p.m. on July 22 when I left the beach and returned to my apartment in Ortigia, a small island in which Syracuse’s Old City is located, and turned on the television. An Italian newscast had yet another story about an AI-generated video on Truth Social that showed FBI agents arresting former President Barack Obama in the Oval Office as President Donald Trump watched.

“The Italian news all day has been reporting on Trump’s deep fake showing Obama’s arrest. Is that for real? And seriously WTF? 🤦,” I asked Washington Blade White House Correspondent Chris Kane in a text that I also sent to a mutual friend.

The video that Trump shared on his social media network was fake, but it was yet another example of our commander-in-chief embarrassing our country. Not even a two-week vacation in Italy could temper the embarrassment that I feel as an American with Trump in the White House.

There are myriad other examples of Trump embarrassing our country about which I have written while abroad. Here are some examples:

• I was on assignment in the Mexican border city of Tijuana on Jan. 28 when Trump suggested, without evidence, the Biden-Harris administration’s diversity, equality, and inclusion policies could have caused the midair collision of a U.S. Army Black Hawk helicopter and an American Airlines regional jet near Reagan National Airport that left 67 people dead. 

“He is doing everything possible to ensure the U.S. will no longer stand for human rights — around the world and in our own country — and basic decency,” I wrote in the Blade on Feb. 4.

• Trump on July 16, 2018, defended President Vladimir Putin during a press conference that took place in Helsinki after they met. I watched the spectacle unfold on television while I was on assignment in Mexico City.

“President Trump’s defense of Russian President Vladimir Putin on Monday after their summit in Helsinki was yet another moment when I felt embarrassed for my country while on assignment outside the U.S.,” I wrote in the Blade on July 19, 2018. “This ridiculous spectacle also proved once and for all the U.S. under this administration cannot claim with any credibility that it stands for human rights around the world.”

• Hurricane Maria on Sept. 20, 2017, devastated Puerto Rico. I was on assignment in Chile a few days later when Trump attacked then-San Juan Mayor Carmen Yulín Cruz. Our commander-in-chief later threw paper towels into a crowd at a church in Guaynabo, a suburb of the Puerto Rican capital.

“His outrageous attacks against the mayor of an American city who is doing everything possible to help her citizens survive are the latest in a long list of actions (or inactions) that have left this gay American journalist who routinely reports overseas embarrassed,” I wrote in the Blade on Oct. 2, 2017. “I am also increasingly ashamed to identify myself as an American while this man occupies the White House.”

I wrote in response to Trump’s exchange with Putin in Helsinki that American exceptionalism, “however flawed, teaches us the U.S. is a beacon of hope to those around the world who suffer persecution” and also “teaches us the U.S. is the land of opportunity where people can build a better life for themselves and for their families.” These ideals, seven years later, ring hollow. 

A optimist may think the Trump-Vance administration should spend their time on far more important things: protecting transgender people from discrimination and violence, pressuring Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his government to stop committing what two prominent Israeli human rights groups this week described as genocide in the Gaza Strip, forcing Putin to stop his war against Ukraine, ensuring undocumented immigrants in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement custody have access to due process, and negotiating in good faith with trading partners. A realist may conclude these aspirations are beyond reach with the Trump-Vance administration in the White House.

Trump clearly has his own aspirations. He is a self-serving buffoon who continues to embarrass his country in the eyes of the world.

Recently, the gay internet was abuzz with the news that entertainment mogul David Geffen, 82, and his tad bit younger husband, model Donovan Michaels (né David Armstrong), 32, were splitting. It was the breakup heard around the mega-yacht docks from the waters of Fort Lauderdale to Marina di Capri, from tweet to shining tweet.

Geffen is, inarguably, one of the most powerful entertainment titans of the last half-century – a music kingpin, Broadway backer, and billionaire art collector. Michaels, Geffen’s husband for two years but together for nine, came from a background that couldn’t be more different: foster care, survival, and, eventually, modeling and escorting. The two first clocked each other on Seeking.com (previously, SeekingArrangements.com), where they each sought an arrangement that benefited both parties, each with their very different yet historically compatible motives. 

Now that the union is dissolving, the backlash has come hard and strong. Geffen is being painted as the predatory puppeteer, quite possibly viewing his child of the sugar as a crystal-cut and curated addition to his art collection. Michaels, meanwhile, is being labeled a gold-digging hustler. So subtle the internet is…

But providing such defamatory, diminutive, and, quite frankly, two-dimensional commentary on the recently divorced is too easy. Perhaps we can approach  Geffen and Michaels’ nullification of nuptials with a touch more compassion and understanding. So many facets to consider, so little time. Let’s dive in.

Of course, the age-old “trophy boy” trope has been given a facelift here. Overdue? Maybe. We have seen this dynamic time and time again. An older, wealthier daddy (or grand-daddy) shacks up with younger, shinier beau with cheekbones to die for. Both parties involved are hungry in their respective avenues.  Comparable instances, however, occur in the straight sphere quite often and we barely bat an eyelash at it. Leonardo DiCaprio swaps out twenty-something year old models like iPhones, resulting in little more than a meme or twelve that he laughs along with. Others win elections.

But when a billionaire butt-connoisseur “friend of Dorothy” does it? Oh no, a scandal. Of course, there’s truth to the concern. Geffen, worth over $7 billion, is at that level of wealth that distorts reality, intimacy, and so, so much more. Michaels, on the flip side, was granted access to a world he wanted into and (hopefully) stepped over the glistening threshold willingly. The question isn’t “Did he know what he was getting himself into?” It’s “Are we prepared to admit that mutually beneficial arrangements are, in fact, also ‘real’ relationships?”

Yes, there’s a 50-year age gap. Yes, that’s pretty far out. But let’s be real for a second – May/December pairings are far from new. What’s intriguing this time around is how judgment shifts when the couple is both same-sex and interracial. A touch of the Meghan Markle effect with a queer twist at play? One can only wonder. Had Geffen been a straight mogul shacking up with a 30-something pageant queen from who-knows-where in the Midwest, folks would still gossip, no doubt, but there’d be less performative outrage and less cultural micro-dissection.

Is it empowering or exploitative? It is silly to believe that only one is possible here. Could it not be both transactional and emotional? The public is far too obsessed with seeing things as black and white, predator and victim, groomer and opportunist, day and night.  On the contrary, reality rarely functions in this binary fashion. Perhaps Donovan found safety, luxury, and more in their relationship. Geffen likely found beauty, admiration, and companionship he didn’t anticipate finding as an octogenarian. The relationship might’ve had its roots in a good ol’ transaction, but maybe it evolved into something more emotionally complex, not to mention legally binding.

It was the lack of prenup that likely fueled the headlines and had people clutching pearls. But if we drop the tabloid tone, it’s worth noting that Michaels offered Geffen the bulk of his twenties and gave his energy to a relationship that asked him to show up emotionally, socially, and (reportedly) carnally. This begs the question, if one spends nearly a decade in someone else’s gold-gilded ecosystem, should they not walk away with something to say for it?

A settlement in this case is not necessarily opportunistic in nature. It is back pay for time served in the multi-billion dollar empire of Bev Hills royalty. Whether that includes a Malibu house, a Warhol print, or just financial breathing room, don’t hate the player. Nine years in Geffenland is practically tenure.

The reality is, partnering purely for love is a relatively modern concept. For the grand part of recorded history, people were motivated into partnership by status, protection, land, and survival. Romance is a Disney-fueled concept barely older than modern plumbing. The word lust predates the word love, and frankly, so does practical partnership.

If anything, Geffen didn’t hide the terms. He made the offer. Donovan accepted. And both benefited. That is, until the arrangement got blurred with real feelings, real power, and real legal exposure. That’s not scandalous. That’s just human nature at its most raw.

Geffen’s legacy has always been about control. He’s curated everything: from record empires to MoMA board appointments to multimillion-dollar art installations. So what happens when the most uncurated element –  his relationship with Michaels – doesn’t quite follow the script he had drafted in his mind?

Look, is Geffen a hoarder of wealth in a world where millions go hungry? Unquestionably. Is he an avatar of late-stage capitalism’s grotesque gap between rich and poor? Most def. But when it comes to his relationship with Michaels, Geffen’s heart, however warped by luxury and excess, seemed to be authentically engaged. He didn’t treat Michaels like single-use plastic. He married him. No prenup. And for someone whose entire life has been about contracts, that’s more than a gesture, it’s a leap of faith. Maybe even trust? Maybe…

So give the poor ol’ queen a break. He hasn’t done anything new. Except, perhaps, look out for the well-being of a sugar child he fell deep and hard for. Listen, I get it. It’s messy. But let’s not pretend it isn’t also deeply, heartbreakingly human.

Geffen will be fine. I have a hunch he has his student loans paid off. Michaels? Hopefully, he will be too. If not today, then eventually. He’s young, sharp, and, fingers crossed, a soon-to-be billionaire. Whatever he walks away from this with, he’s already beaten the odds stacked against a dude with his upbringing.

And the rest of us? We should stop treating their split like a morality play and start treating it like a mirror. These kinds of relationships – cross-class, cross-race, cross-power – are all around us every day – just with less TMZ coverage. The only difference is Geffen and Michaels gave it a name and gave us a front-row seat to see what happens when affection meets arrangement at the icy pinnacle of the 1%.

Three cheers to Mr. Geffen for allowing his heart – and his pocket – to take a leap of faith and embark on a new romance in his golden years; and three more for Michaels, who possesses the wherewithal to advocate for himself and his needs. In a day and age where tuning into the news is an almost constant reminder of the mess that is humanity, it is a joy to know that a foster child can one day become a billionaire. Talk about a Disney ending.

The recent U.S. Supreme Court Mahmoud v. Taylor decision gives parents the green light to remove their children from the school curriculum that includes books with LGBTQ themes and characters. This court ruling is a troubling step backwards, using religion to enshrine homophobia.

First the facts. In 2022, a Maryland school district added to its elementary curriculum nine LGBTQ+-inclusive picture books like Intersection Allies by Chelsea Johnson, and Pride Puppy by Robin Stevenson, and Prince & Knight by Daniel Haack. These books, according to the district’s communications director, tell “joyful stories of folks who happen to be part of the LGBTQ+ community” and “celebrate and positively portray LGBTQ+ identities.” 

The following year, facing the growing number of parents’ opt out requests, the district withdrew its opt-out waiver policy because it was causing significant disruptions to the schools’ learning environment.

Three sets of religious parents (Muslim, Catholic, and Eastern Orthodox) represented by Becket Fund for Religious Liberty, a legal group with an anti-LGBTQ history, sued the district for the right to opt out, claiming that the district infringed on their religious rights. 

What religious rights one might ask? At the heart of the matter is the question whether public schools can require children to participate in instruction on gender and sexuality which contradicts their parents’ religious beliefs.

On June 27, 2025, the Supreme Court sided 6-3 with the plaintiffs, with the dissenting votes coming from Justices Jackson, Kagan, and Sotomayor. 

The majority opinion cited two precedents addressing religious beliefs in public schools (Barnette and Yoder): in one, Jehovah’s Witness students were allowed not to salute the American flag and the other protected Amish children from educational environments hostile to their beliefs. 

If the connection between those cases and inclusive picture books seems tenuous, one should simply read the 135-page court ruling and be transported back in time. 

“The[se] books are unmistakably normative. They are designed to present certain values and beliefs as things to be celebrated,” the decision explains. Citing, for example, the inclusive message in the books about same-sex marriage such as Uncle Bobby’s Wedding by Sarah Brannen, the court states that “many Americans advocate with utmost, sincere conviction that, by divine precepts, same-sex marriage should not be condoned” (Mahmoud v. Taylor, p. 3). 

This assumption, however, contradicts the recent, 2024 Gallup Poll which found that more than two in three Americans (69%) support same-sex marriage. Many of them believe in God. Many of them are also parents.

The court’s conservative majority finds it objectionable that these books “present the opposite viewpoint to young, impressionable children who are likely to accept without question any moral messages conveyed by their teacher’s instruction. The storybooks present same-sex weddings as occasions for great celebration and suggest that the only rubric for determining whether a marriage is acceptable is whether the individuals concerned ‘love each other’.”

The books’ inclusive, normalizing message on sex and gender is also subject to the court’s ire. “Many Americans, like the parents in this case, believe that biological sex reflects divine creation, that sex and gender are inseparable, and that children should be encouraged to accept their sex and to live accordingly. The storybooks, however, suggest that it is hurtful, and perhaps even hateful, to hold the view that gender is inextricably bound with biological sex.”

And the commentary goes on.

It is shocking that in 2025, after decades of struggle for acceptance and equality and the deep change in the cultural norms and values, such anti-LGBTQ rhetoric would still hold sway. 

And it is frightening that as in decades past, the court would pit faith and parenting against the LGBTQ+ community, as if they are mutually exclusive, as if the LGBTQ community does not raise children, as if most families of faith in the society at large would want to withhold the books that accept and affirm from their children. 

That simply isn’t so. Many religious denominations today support LGBTQ rights and welcome our families and our children. My husband and I, for instance, raised our two daughters in the Jewish tradition, and not once did we have to hide or change who we were. 

“What can I do to bring you here?” asked me the rabbi of the local Conservative Jewish temple when we first moved into our neighborhood. That was 20 years ago, and it hasn’t changed. 

We raised our kids with a deep sense of acceptance and tolerance, and much of it came from the teachings of faith. Similarly, our kids’ public schools were affirming of LGBTQ+ students. For some of these students, public school was their safe place, away from the intolerance and rejection they experienced at home. If children cannot learn about tolerance and inclusion at school, where else can they learn it?

Ultimately, it’s not about religious rights. It’s about the right to raise children in a world in which LGBTQ people do not exist. Acceptance and inclusion would contradict this homophobic worldview, and that’s what these parents – and the Supreme Court – do not want.

Lane Igoudin, Ph.D., is the author of A Family, Maybe, a gay father’s adoptive journey included in the Mombian Database of LGBTQ Family Books. He is a professor of English/ESL at Los Angeles City College and a past Andrew W. Mellon Fellow with UCLA Humanities.

Imagine walking into a pharmacy, prescription in hand, and being told, “Sorry, we don’t give that to people like you.” Now imagine the government says that’s perfectly fine—as long as it’s wrapped in words like “concern” or “safety.”

That’s not a dystopian movie plot. That’s United States v. Skrmetti.

On June 18, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld Tennessee’s SB1, a state law that bans gender-affirming care for minors. Puberty blockers. Hormone therapy. All of it. Not because the treatments are dangerous (they’re not), or untested (they’re not), but because the kids receiving them are transgender.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t regulation. It’s targeted denial. And it just got the Supreme Court’s stamp of approval.

Chief Justice John Roberts, writing for the majority, said SB1 doesn’t discriminate. He argued the law merely regulates treatment based on “age and purpose.” That’s a little like banning seatbelts—but only for gay people—and claiming it’s about “safety.” Here’s the truth: SB1 bans hormone therapy only when it’s used for gender transition. Those same drugs are still allowed for other conditions. That’s not neutral. That’s surgical discrimination, written into law.

Even Tennessee’s legal team admitted it: the law “only affects those who seek to transition.” That’s not an accidental loophole. That’s the entire point.

Even worse, the Court ducked the bigger question: Do transgender Americans qualify as a “suspect class” under the Constitution—meaning they deserve stronger protections against discrimination?

Historically, groups with a long track record of discrimination, limited political power, and immutable traits (like race or religion) have gotten this status. Trans people check every box. Yet the Court said nothing.

That silence wasn’t a technicality. It was a political decision. A willful refusal to say: “You matter. You count. You’re protected here.”

Let’s drop the pretense. This isn’t about medicine or morality. Gender-affirming care is backed by every major U.S. medical association—from the American Academy of Pediatrics to the AMA. It’s safe. It’s effective. And it saves lives.

But these laws don’t ban puberty blockers across the board. They just ban them for trans kids.

That’s not policy—it’s punishment.

We wouldn’t tolerate a law that banned mammograms for women, or insulin for diabetics, only if they’re queer. But that’s exactly what this is: identity-based medical apartheid.

Supporters claim it’s about protecting children. But you don’t protect kids by denying them care recommended by doctors and supported by science. You do that to control who they’re allowed to become.

Here’s the part that should make us all pause: Most Americans don’t agree with this decision. A recent Pew poll found that 64% of Americans support protections for transgender people. Nearly 60% support access to gender-affirming care. Among young adults, those numbers are even higher.

This isn’t a red state vs. blue state issue. It’s a basic civil rights question in the 21st century. The people are not divided. But our institutions—the courts, the legislatures—are lagging behind. Or worse, being weaponized.

This ruling leaves trans youth legally exposed and politically abandoned. But that doesn’t mean we’re powerless.

Here’s what must happen now:

· State legislatures must pass ironclad non-discrimination laws that protect transgender youth where federal protections now fall short.

· Congress must pass the Equality Act—in full—and enshrine civil rights protections for LGBTQ+ Americans nationwide.

· The media must stop framing this as just another “culture war.” This isn’t about ideology. It’s about constitutional rights—access to care, bodily autonomy, and equal protection under the law.

· And we the people must act. Vote. Call your lawmakers. Tell your stories. Make it clear that civil rights don’t depend on your zip code, political party, or gender identity.

This moment is more than a court ruling. It’s a moral test for a country that claims to believe in liberty and justice for all.

You don’t have to be trans to be alarmed. If the state can deny medical care to one group based on identity, what’s to stop them from doing it to you? Your kid? Your neighbor?

History will remember where we stood. Let it remember this: we stood with trans kids and their parents. Loudly. Unapologetically. And without retreat.

James Bridgeforth, Ph.D., is a national columnist on the intersection of politics, morality, and civil rights. His work regularly appears in The Chicago Defender and The Black Wall Street Times.

Earlier this week I was having lunch with my friend and neighbor at our deliciously default pasta spot where everybody knows your name and, as always, were shooting the breeze with the co-owner-slash-manager, whose warmth and wit is never 86’d and, in conjunction with our lust of carbs, always keeps us coming back. 

For the first time, we lightly breached the topic of politics. I know, I know, waters best left uncharted more often than not. Anyhow, his expression shifted from usual light-hearted charm to something more strained, notes of discomfort and chagrin. In response to our hesitance and likely cautious stares, he revealed that his husband – who also happens to be our server that day (yes, they work together, which is adorable, but not the point) – is a supporter of President Trump. That revelation, he admitted, has created serious tension in their relationship. 

This paradoxical information got my cogs turning in my mind – what is occurring in the mind of a queer-identifying person who favors such a political figure as our current president?

In this unkempt landscape of American politics, the alignment of LGBTQ+ folks with what are seen collectively as conservative ideologies, particularly open or not so open support for figures like President Trump presents quite the complex and often misunderstood phenomenon. This intersection of queer identity and conservative politics challenges conventional narratives and invites a deeper exploration into the psychological, social, and cultural factors that fuel such political affiliations.

Most find it a cognitive strain to comprehend such a contradiction. At first look, the support of LGBTQ+ folks for a person and figure like our current president comes across as self-loathing and straight-up-gay-up backwards. The Trump administration was marked by policies that many perceive as a blow to LGBTQ+ rights, including attempts to ban transgender folks from military service and the rollback of protections against discrimination in healthcare. Despite all of this, a surprisingly large number of the LGBTQ+ community expressed support for him/it/what-the-f*ck. Understanding this mentality requires a closer look at the psychological mechanisms at play.

One undeniable factor is the concept of system justification theory, which tells us that people can be and often are motivated to defend and rationalize the status quo, even when it may not align with their best interests. For some queer folks, aligning with conservative ideologies may serve as a means to gain acceptance in broader societal structures that value traditional norms and values. This alignment can provide a sense (a sense) of belonging and validation, even at the cost of personal identity and community solidarity.

Another, arguably obvious, key factor to consider is the presence of internalized homophobia, where queer folks internalize societal prejudices that are against their own identity and best interest. Research has shown that approximately 4 out of 10 gay Republicans view their homosexuality as a personal shortcoming and would prefer to be straight if given the chance. This internalized stigma can lead to a disconnection from the whole LGBTQ+ community and a preference for political ideologies that align with traditional values, even if those ideologies are not supportive of (their own) LGBTQ+ rights.

This internal conflict is even more complicated by the yearning to conform to societal expectations of traditional and arguably toxic masculinity. The concept of precarious manhood hints that some men feel the pressure to adhere to more traditional masculine norms to avoid being perceived as weak, lesser than, or effeminate. For some queer cismen, supporting conservative figures who embody these traditional masculine ideals is a way to assert their masculinity and gain societal acceptance, even if it means distancing themselves from their queer peers and identity. 

Trauma also plays an often overlooked role in shaping political identity – especially for queer folks. For some, early experiences of rejection, bullying, shame-inducing religious influence, or even familial abandonment may create deep psychological and emotional wounds that, gone unaddressed, never fully heal. Rather than seeking solace in queer spaces and groups that tend to be affirming, those with unresolved trauma may seek safety in systems that appear more rigid or authoritative – even when those systems have historically marginalized them. Supporting a figure like Trump, who attempts to project strength, dominance, and control, can feel like a form of self-protection or even empowerment. It’s a way of aligning with power rather than vulnerability, even if that power has been used to harm people like themselves. In this sense, political support can become not just ideological, but emotional, acting as an unconscious attempt to rewrite personal narratives of victimhood by choosing the “winning” side.

Looking past identity and other psychological factors, practical considerations also play their part in political affiliation. Economic policies championed by conservative figures, like tax cuts, deregulation, and a free-market approach, appeal to LGBTQ+ folks who tend to prioritize financial independence and personal perception of responsibility. For those who value financial independence and personal responsibility, these ideas can feel like a better fit than the social policies typically supported by more liberal politicians.

The phenomenon of queer folks supporting conservative figures like Trump serves as an indication to the intricacies of human identity and political affiliation. It challenges simpler narratives and necessitates a more nuanced look into the factors that influence our political choices.

Rather than simply casting, it’s worth one’s while to critically consider the underlying factors that shape political beliefs – especially when those beliefs seem to run counter to the interests of marginalized communities that they are (whether they like it or not) a member of. Psychological distress, unresolved trauma, internalized stigma, and a longing for some semblance of acceptance can all impact one’s political alignment in ways that aren’t always rational or self-preserving. Acknowledging the complexities of these influences can give way for a clearer view into how some queer people are drawn like mosquitos into a bright light toward ideologies or figures that undermine their rights. Understanding these dynamics is not a matter of justification but of clarity. Only through that clarity can we begin to appropriately and efficiently address the deeper forces at play in our collective political consciousness.

And the pasta was just okay that day.

The U.S. Agency for International Development — proudly my institutional home for several years of my international development career and an American institutional global fixture since November 1961 — is no more.

How will USAID’s closure impact LGBTQI+ people around the world, especially in poor, struggling countries (“the Global South”)? Time will tell, but “dire,” “appalling,” and “shameful” are appropriate adjectives, given the massive increase in HIV/AIDS deaths that follow the callous, abrupt, and unspeakably cruel cut-off of funding for USAID’s health and humanitarian programming in HIV/AIDS prevention, treatment, and care.  

Regarding LGBTQI+ people and issues, USAID worked in a tough neighborhood. In Africa alone, more than 30 countries in which USAID had programming still criminalize same-sex relationships, often to the point of imposing the death penalty. These fiercely anti-LGBTQI+ countries share harsh anti-LGBTQI+ punishments with most countries in the Middle East and North Africa. Other countries where USAID formerly worked retain colonial-era sodomy laws.

Where did USAID fit into all this turbulence? The agency was not allowed to transgress local laws, so how could it support the human rights of local LGBTQI+ people? USAID did so by building close and trusting relationships with local LGBTQI+ civil society, and by “superpower advocacy” for the universal human rights of all people, including those of us in the queer community.

I served at USAID’s Africa Bureau under the Obama administration, becoming the only openly transgender political appointee in USAID’s history. In that role, I was privileged to have a platform that caught the astounded attention of both queer people and of anti-LGBTQI+ governments around the world. If the president of the United States can elevate a transgender woman to such a senior position within the U.S. government, that open declaration of acceptance, inclusion, worth, and recognition set a precedent that many in the LGBTQI+ community worldwide hoped their countries would emulate. 

Serving as an openly queer person at USAID also afforded me the opportunity to meet with many fiercely anti-LGBTQI+ senior politicians and government officials from African countries who sought USAID funding. Uganda’s first woman speaker of the parliament, Rebecca Alitwala Kadaga and her whole delegation came to see me at USAID in Washington about such funding. I had some very frank (and USAID-approved) “talking points” to share with her and her team about President Obama’s strong and secular commitment to equal human rights for all people. My tense meeting with her was also an opportunity to educate her as to the nature of the transgender, nonbinary, and intersex community — we who are simply classified and discriminated against as “gay” people in Uganda and in most countries in the Global South. I also had the chance to represent USAID in the “inter-agency” LGBTQI+ human rights task team led by gay U.S. Ambassador David Pressman, whose effective leadership of that Obama-era initiative was inspirational.

Working closely with professional, capable, and caring USAID career employees such as Ajit Joshi and Anthony Cotton, and with the strong and open support of the USAID Deputy Administrator Don Steinberg, I helped to craft and promote USAID’s very first LGBTQI+ policy. Under President Obama, USAID also created the LGBT Global Development Partnership, a public-private partnership supporting LGBTQI+ civil society groups throughout the Global South. USAID funding also increased for programs promoting LGBTQI+ inclusion, anti-violence, and relevant human rights protections. This programming expanded further (albeit never adequately funded) during the Biden administration under the able leadership of USAID Senior LGBTQI+ Coordinator Jay Gilliam and his team. 

So what did it all mean? Has USAID left a footprint for the global LGBTQI+ community? Will its absence matter?

In my view, that answer is an emphatic yes. International development and humanitarian response go to the heart of recognizing, respecting, and caring about universal human dignity. USAID converted those ethical commitments into tangible and meaningful action, again and again, and modelled for the world what it means to truly include all persons. 

My time serving at USAID was a high point of my career, being surrounded by the best of American civil servants and foreign service officers. For me, “USAID Forever” remains my battle cry. Let’s start thinking of how we will rebuild it, beginning in three years.

Chloe Schwenke is a professor at Georgetown University’s McCourt School of Public Policy.