Friday marks 10 years since a gunman killed 49 people inside the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Fla.

The massacre, which, at the time was the deadliest mass shooting in modern U.S. history, left the LGBTQ community in this country and around the world reeling. It also prompted renewed calls for gun control.

The OnePulse Foundation, which Pulse owner Barbara Poma founded after the massacre, raised upwards of $20 million for a memorial that never materialized. 

The city of Orlando in 2023 purchased the Pulse property for $2 million. Crews earlier this year demolished the former nightclub. The city of Orlando has pledged $12 million for a permanent memorial that is scheduled to open in 2027.

Washington Blade Editor Kevin Naff and International News Editor Michael K. Lavers reported from Orlando in the days after the massacre. Here are their reflections a decade later.

Describe the scene when you arrived in Orlando. Where did you go first?

NAFF: Most mainstream reporters headed for the Pulse nightclub, but it was already roped off with police keeping bystanders at least a full city block away. Instead, I hurried to The Center, Orlando’s LGBTQ community center, downtown. I expected to find it locked down with tight security but instead the doors were flung open and everyone inside was busy at work. No tears, just dedicated staff and volunteers working the phones to secure visas and free plane tickets for relatives of the victims. The director gave me a tour and in the back storage room were pallets and pallets of bottled water stacked to the ceiling. When I asked what all the water was for, he said the city had issued a call for blood donations and the lines to donate were 1,500 deep in 100-degree heat. So The Center drove around to all the sites to deliver water to all those standing in line. 

That scene was so inspiring and a testament to the strength and resiliency of the LGBTQ community. We’d seen tragedy before and knew how to respond.

LAVERS: I arrived in Orlando about 14 hours after the massacre took place. The city was shellshocked.

Equality Florida, the state’s LGBTQ advocacy group, and other organizations held a press conference at The Center shortly after my flight from D.C. landed. I drove there from the airport. Terry DeCarlo, who was The Center’s executive director at the time, along with then-Equality Florida Executive Director Nadine Smith and others spoke on behalf of a community that was reeling. The Center at the press conference handed out business cards that read, “You matter.” I had it in my wallet when I drove to a makeshift memorial that was a block from Pulse — the police had cordoned off the area immediately around the nightclub. A local resident who I interviewed told me that she did not know if her friends who were at Pulse when the gunman opened fire survived. Another person with whom I spoke shared a similar story. 

A torrential downpour began shortly after I arrived. The storm was an apt metaphor for the raw emotion of that horrific day.

What’s your most prominent memory of covering the Pulse massacre?

NAFF: I was covering a vigil in downtown Orlando when then-Florida Gov. Rick Scott’s motorcade arrived unannounced. To that point, he had not addressed the LGBTQ angle and seemed to be downplaying the fact that this was an attack on our community. I hurried to the front row as he held an impromptu news conference. To my dismay, he took only three short questions from TV reporters then rushed away. I grabbed his communications director and insisted that Scott take a question from the LGBTQ media. She agreed and told me to wait next to the SUV. When Scott approached, I asked him, “What is your message to LGBTQ Floridians?”

To my surprise, he sputtered, stammered, and broke into tears before telling me, “This was an attack, what else can you say? This was an attack against the gays, an attack against Hispanics, an attack against our country, our nation and it’s disgusting. The biggest thing we do now is ask how to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

It was his first public acknowledgment that the LGBTQ community was the target of the attack.

LAVERS: Two moments stand out for me.

The first moment is when then-President Barack Obama and then-Vice President Joe Biden traveled to Orlando on June 16, four days after the massacre. I was one of the reporters who the White House asked to be part of the local press pool. I was about 50 feet away from Obama and Biden when they placed bouquets with 49 flowers — one for each of the victims — at a makeshift memorial between City Hall and the Dr. Phillips Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Orlando. Obama in remarks he made to the press pool mentioned one of the gay victims who had once said, “We cannot be afraid.” The emotions of the last four days simply became too much, and I broke down. Another reporter who was part of the press pool who was standing next to me realized I had broken down. She put her hand on my back to console me.

The second moment came a few weeks later when I was in Puerto Rico to cover the community’s response to the massacre and to interview victims’ relatives. Orlando has a very large Puerto Rican community, and nearly half of those who died at Pulse were of Puerto Rican descent.

I drove to Caguas, a city that is roughly 20 miles south of San Juan, the island’s capital, on July 7, and interviewed Aida Velázquez in her small apartment. Her son, Frankie “Jimmy” de Jesús, died at Pulse. Aida talked about her son, and she showed me pictures of him. Jimmy also danced Jíbaro, a Puerto Rican folk dance. The interview took place less than a month after the massacre — Jimmy’s funeral took place in Caguas less than two weeks earlier.

I sat in my car after the interview and sobbed uncontrollably for nearly five minutes. Nothing can possibly prepare you for interviewing a mother who had just lost her child in the most horrific way possible. 

How did the local community respond and what about their response gave you hope or inspiration?

NAFF: In addition to the staff at The Center working to assist victims and their families, everyday Orlando residents stepped up to help however they could. At the downtown vigils, straight mothers and fathers carried signs offering hugs to anyone who needed them. I encountered a group of young teenage males who approached a group of law enforcement officers and appeared to perform for them. When they finished, I asked what they were doing and they told me that they were straight friends who lived in Orlando and wanted to do something to help so they composed an uplifting rap song and walked around performing it for anyone who needed cheering up. 

LAVERS: The way that Orlando rallied around the LGBTQ community was simply inspiring. 

Imam Muhammad Musri, president of the Islamic Society of Central Florida, at a memorial service that took place at the Dr. Phillips Performing Arts Center on June 13 said his organization was “united as Americans when it comes to standing with the LGBT community and their rights to live freely and to practice their lives here.” This comment underscored the outpouring of support that Orlando showed its LGBTQ community after Pulse. It was also a call for the better angels among us to reject hate in all of its forms.

What surprised you most about the experience?

NAFF: I was most surprised — and moved — after talking to Rev. Debreita Taylor of Oasis Fellowship Ministries, an LGBTQ-affirming ministry. 

“My message is love. Period. Love. Period. There’s nothing in the word of God that faith leaders can go to that teaches hate,” she told me. “Have faith and believe that evil and hate can be eradicated one person at a time. How do you treat someone? How do you embrace someone who treats you wrong? We all bleed, laugh, hope and have great victories and major defeats. And so, you know me, even if you don’t know my name — I’m you.”

LAVERS: It admittedly took me quite a while to fully process what I experienced in Orlando — I was focused on doing my job as a reporter, which was to cover the story, and, most importantly, show the human impact of what had happened. I suppose one surprising aspect of the time I spent in Orlando was that I found myself feeling more defiant against those who seek to destroy our community. They want us to live in fear, and I refuse to give them that satisfaction. 

What, if anything, changed as a result of Pulse?

NAFF: In the immediate aftermath of the attack, queer spaces began rethinking their approach to security, which has served us well in the years since. Sadly, just a year later, Pulse was bumped to the No. 2 deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history when a gunman opened fire on the Route 91 Harvest music festival in Las Vegas, killing 60 people. Americans and their politicians never learn from these largely preventable tragedies. The carnage continues. 

LAVERS: Gun violence remains a shameful scourge in this country. Our community remains vulnerable to violence and discrimination. President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance, and other politicians here in Washington, around the country, and overseas continue to use our community to advance an anti-equality agenda. The carnage continues, as my colleague correctly notes, but our community remains strong and defiant. That gives me hope.

It was a historic night at the 79th annual Tony Awards on Sunday as Queen Jean won the award for Best Costume Design of a Musical, making her the first out transgender person to win a Tony.

“This experience has been monumental. We are here for the legacy of queer people, trans people,” she said. “We are taking up space in ways we have to take up space. We have to shift the paradigm. So I just want to say, thank you all so much for this incredible honor. The world right now is deeply, deeply combating so many ailments, and we know as a society that when we come together, we can make real, permanent change.”

She won the award for her work on “Cats: The Jellicle Ball” and was also nominated for best costume design of a play for “Liberation.”

In addition to her stage work, Queen Jean is the founder of Black Trans Liberation, an organization that supports trans and gender-nonconforming people in New York City.

U.S. Rep. Andy Ogles (R-Tenn.), who represents Tennessee’s 5th Congressional District, is facing backlash from LGBTQ+ advocates and fellow Republicans after a social media post declared that “homosexuality has no place in America.”

“Homosexuality has no place in America. Happy Nuclear Family Month,” the congressman wrote in a post on X that was later deleted.

According to the Williams Institute at UCLA School of Law, an estimated 6.3 percent of U.S. adults identify as LGBTQ+.

Following widespread criticism, Ogles removed the post and blamed it on a staff member.

“The post was stupid, hurtful and a complete distraction from my America First focus. The employee has been reprimanded,” Ogles said in a statement.

The Los Angeles Blade reached out to Ogles’s office for comment but did not receive a response by press time.

Among those condemning the message was U.S. Rep. Mike Lawler (R-N.Y.), who called it “absolutely idiotic” in a social media post.

“Homosexuality exists. In America,” Lawler wrote on X. “In fact, Andy, you have family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, and constituents who are gay and lesbian. It doesn’t make them less than or somehow unworthy of being an American.”

U.S. Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Texas) also criticized Ogles’s remarks.

“For all of recorded history, homosexuals have been a part of humanity,” Cruz told TMZ DC. “I think the behavior of consenting adults is their business.”

Chris Sanders, the executive director for the Tennessee Equality Project and Tennessee Equality Project Foundation provided a statement to the Blade about Ogles’s comment.

“The Tennessee Nuclear Family Month resolution has really backfired on conservatives by ensnaring Congressman Ogles in scandal. He used the resolution as a pretext to say that our community doesn’t belong in America, resulting in incredible backlash from across the partisan divide,” Sanders said. “It is a good opportunity for him to pause and reflect on whether it’s time for him to resign. Fighting one’s own constituents is not the purpose of serving in Congress.”

Human Rights Campaign Senior Press Secretary Jarred Keller provided a statement to the Blade regarding Ogles’s comments.

“LGBTQ+ people are woven into the fabric of America, and any politician who questions that is severely out of touch with reality. When so many people are worried about whether they can afford gas to get to work or groceries for their families, the last thing we need is right-wing Republicans targeting marginalized communities with hateful attacks,” Keller said. “Representative Ogles should spend less time attacking LGBTQ+ people and start addressing the issues that actually matter, because last I checked, our community isn’t the reason families are struggling to make ends meet.”

The controversy comes as Tennessee continues to advance legislation affecting LGBTQ+ residents. The state already has several laws on the books that LGBTQ+ advocates have criticized, including the Adult Entertainment Act, enacted in 2023, which restricts certain “adult cabaret performances.”

Lawmakers have also introduced additional measures this legislative session, including the “No Pride Flag or Month Act,” which would prohibit state employees, volunteers, and agents from displaying Pride flags or participating in Pride observances while acting in an official capacity.

Another proposal, the “Banning Bostock Act” would seek to limit the application of state anti-discrimination protections based on the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision in Bostock v. Clayton County. Tennessee lawmakers have also passed other measures restricting LGBTQ+ rights and access to gender-affirming health care.

State officials in California had not called the governor’s race as of Wednesday morning but Republican Steve Hilton and Democrat Xavier Becerra appear likely to advance to the general election. 

The race for governor has been scrambled several times after Kamala Harris opted not to run, Rep. Eric Swalwell dropped out after sexual misconduct allegations surfaced, and Rep. Katie Porter’s campaign fizzled. Becerra would be the state’s first Latino governor since 1875 if elected. Hilton was endorsed by President Trump. 

In the Los Angeles mayor’s race, the AP declared that incumbent Mayor Karen Bass will advance to the Nov. 3 runoff while former reality TV star Spencer Pratt and LA Council member Nithya Raman were competing for second place. California is notoriously slow in counting ballots and only about half of the results were available by Wednesday morning.

In San Francisco, Democratic State Sen. Scott Wiener advanced to the general election in November, besting Supervisor Connie Chan, who was endorsed by House Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi. Pelosi is retiring from Congress after nearly 40 years in the House.

In Iowa, Democratic state Rep. Josh Turek won the primary for an open U.S. Senate seat, defeating state Sen. Zach Wahls. Turek will face Rep. Ashley Hinson, who won the GOP primary with President Donald Trump’s endorsement, in the general election.  

The Iowa seat is open because Sen. Joni Ernst (R) decided not to seek re-election. The primary was closely watched by LGBTQ advocates because Wahls rose to national prominence after a speech he made defending marriage equality went viral in 2011. Wahls was raised by a lesbian couple. 

Former U.S. Rep. Barney Frank (D-Mass.), who served in the U.S. House of Representatives from 1981 until his retirement in 2013 and who became the first member of Congress to voluntarily come out as gay in 1987, died on May 19, at the age of 86, at his home in Ogunquit, Maine.

His passing came less than a month after he announced he had entered home hospice care due to terminal congestive heart failure under the care of his husband, Jim Ready, and shortly after finishing writing a new book entitled, “The Hard Path to Unity: Why We Must Reform the Left to Rescue Democracy.”

Despite his frail health, during the last few weeks of his life, Frank agreed to do interviews with multiple news media outlets, including the Los Angeles Blade, where he reflected on his sometimes-controversial positions on issues such as transgender rights.

He told the Blade he had been living with his husband in their shared home in Maine since the time of his retirement in 2013 and called his husband a “saint” for caring for him during his illness. In 2012, at the age of 72, Frank married Ready, becoming the first sitting member of Congress to marry someone of the same sex.   

News of his passing prompted an outpouring of praise and reflection on his life as a groundbreaking out gay lawmaker by current and former members of Congress and LGBTQ+ rights leaders.

Massachusetts Gov. Maura Healey announced on May 20 that she had ordered the U.S. flag and the state flag to be lowered to half-staff at all state buildings in honor of Frank’s life and legacy and the recognition of his passing.

“Barney Frank was nothing short of a trailblazer,” said Kelley Robinson, president of the Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest LGBTQ+ advocacy organization, in a statement. “At a time when being openly gay in public service could cost you everything, he chose visibility,” Robinson said.

Robinson and other LGBTQ+ advocates also pointed to Frank’s role in speaking out in Congress for stronger efforts to address the AIDS epidemic during the early years of HIV/AIDS, his push for the repeal of the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy to initially allow gays to serve openly in the military, the enactment of marriage equality for same-sex couples, and broader anti-discrimination protections.

Frank has also been credited with helping to pass the federal Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crimes Protection Act of 2009.

In addition to his longstanding support for LGBTQ+ rights, political observers have said one of his most important achievements in Congress was his role, as chair of the House Financial Services Committee, in becoming co-author of what became known as the Dodd-Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act of 2010.

Coming at the time of a nationwide banking crisis, the New York Times has called the Frank bill that he and then-U.S. Sen. Christopher Dodd (D-Conn.) wrote “the most significant overhaul of the nation’s financial regulations since the Great Depression.”

Frank was born and raised in Bayonne, N.J., and graduated from Bayonne High School.

He graduated from Harvard College in Massachusetts in 1962 and worked in various places, including as an assistant to then-Boston Mayor Kevin White, before winning election to the Massachusetts House of Representatives in 1972, where he served for eight years representing a Boston area district. During that time he attended and graduated from Harvard Law School and became a member of the Massachusetts bar in 1979 after passing the bar exam.   

In 1980, Frank became a candidate for the U.S. House in the Massachusetts 4th Congressional District, which he won with 52 percent of the vote in a four-candidate race, taking office in January 1981. He won re-election decisively over the next 30 years until announcing in 2012 his plans to retire and he would not run for re-election that year.  

The New York Times is among the publications that have reported this week since Frank’s passing that his record as an esteemed and admired lawmaker helped him survive a sex scandal that surfaced in 1990 linking him to male prostitute Stephen Gobie.

Media reports at the time said Frank had patronized Gobie as one of his customers and for a time had Gobie as a roommate in Frank’s D.C. residence in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. In its article this week, the New York Times says Gobie “claimed that in the mid-1980s he had run a prostitution ring out of Mr. Frank’s home.”

Like other media accounts, the Times report adds that following an investigation, “The House Ethics Committee did not substantiate that claim, but it did find that Mr. Frank had fixed 33 parking tickets for Mr. Gobie and sought to shorten his probation on drug and sex-offense convictions by writing a misleading memorandum on congressional stationery to an official involved in supervising Mr. Gobie’s probation.”

The full House voted 408-18 to reprimand Frank for misuse of his office, but it rejected calls by some to censure or expel him.

“I should have known better,” Frank said in a speech on the House floor at that time, according to the New York Times. “There was in my life a central element of dishonesty,” the Times quoted him as saying. “Three years ago, I decided concealment wouldn’t work. I wish I decided that long ago,” he said referring to his 1987 decision to come out publicly as gay.

Despite all of this, Frank was re-elected that year with 66 percent of the vote, a development that his friends and supporters attribute to his reputation as a beloved and highly regarded public figure.

PFLAG, the national advocacy group for parents and friends of LGBTQ+ people, is among the groups that issued statements this week reflecting on Frank’s positive impact on the LGBTQ+ community.

“Frank was not only the first openly gay member of Congress, but he was also co-author of the Dodd-Frank Wall Street Reform and Consumer Protection Act of 2010 as chair of the House Financial Services Committee, which helped enshrine housing access for LGBTQ+ people,” PFLAG says in a statement.

“He was also a leading advocate on laws to combat HIV/AIDS,” the statement says, adding that PFLAG’s national office honored Frank with its Champion of Justice Award in 2018.

“Barney was candid, outspoken, quick-witted and downright funny, and he always had his eye on making progress,” said U.S. Sen. Tammy Baldwin (D-Wis.), the first openly lesbian woman elected to the U.S. Senate, in a statement. “He was willing to take on anyone who was in his way, regardless of who they were — I should know, I was one of the many who on occasion got an earful from him,” Baldwin said.

‘But I, and anyone else who spent time with him, were lucky to watch him in action and learn from him,” her statement continues. “Barney was a masterful legislator, savvy and strategic, and always thinking of the long game,” she said. “Our country is a better, more just, more equal place because of him, and he will be sorely missed.”

U.S. Rep. Mark Takano (D-Calif.), who serves as chair of the Congressional Equality Caucus, which represents LGBTQ+ members of Congress and their congressional allies, issued his own statement on behalf of the caucus pointing out that Frank was one of the two founding members of the caucus.

“I was honored that he came to campaign for me during my run for Congress just a few years after he co-founded the Congressional Equality Caucus, which I now have the distinct honor of leading,” Takano said.

He was referring to Frank and then-Congresswoman Tammy Baldwin’s action in 2008 to found the House LGBT Equality Caucus as the only two openly gay members of Congress, which evolved into the Congressional Equality Caucus.

“Barney proved that what mattered most was the work you did for others,” Takano says in his statement. “I truly believe that we are closer to a more equal world because of Barney Frank,” he said, adding, “Congressman Frank’s legacy touches every part of our fight for LGBTQI+ equality: from his work advocating for HIV and AIDS research to helping pass major pro-equality legislation like the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Repeal Act and the Hate Crimes Prevention Act into law.” 

In his May 5 interview with the Blade, Frank responded to criticism he received during his tenure in Congress from some LGBTQ+ rights advocates, especially trans activists, who claimed he had not provided sufficient support for trans rights legislation.

He said he fully supported ongoing efforts to advance trans rights but said those efforts could be jeopardized by pushing issues for which many voters have yet to accept, such as “male to female transgender people playing in women’s sports.”

Among those praising Frank’s life and legacy at the time of his passing is longtime trans activist Diego Sanchez, who became the first openly trans congressional staffer when Frank hired Sanchez as his office’s Senior Policy Advisor. Sanchez remained on Frank’s staff until Frank’s retirement in 2013.

“Barney was a revered statesman for our country at the local, state, and federal levels and a treasured friend to me,” Sanchez told the Blade in a statement. “His belief that prejudice comes from ignorance and is only stricken by visibility explains how he came out openly and how he brought me to his staff, with intent and without apology,” Sanchez said.

He added, “I miss him terribly and am glad I got to spend a week with his husband Jim and him this month. Barney made sure that members of Congress could not say they had never met a trans person. I was honored to be a groomsman in their wedding and will miss Barney’s brilliance, counsel, friendship, and wit.”

Sanchez said celebration of life events are expected to take place in Boston and D.C. and details of those events will be announced soon. 

Republicans confirmed Darin Smith as U.S. Attorney for the District of Wyoming on Monday, regardless of his history as interim U.S. Attorney for Wyoming and a state senator.

While serving as interim U.S. Attorney for Wyoming — after being appointed by President Donald Trump last July despite never trying a case outside of his time as a law student intern — former state Sen. Darin Smith likely prejudiced jurors during grand jury proceedings.

Nine felony grand jury indictments tied to Smith’s tenure were dismissed last week.

Judges dismissed felony indictments against Cheyenne Swett, Richard Allen, Michael Scott Hopper, Brian Joseph Johnson, Dennison Jay Antelope, Matthew Christopher Jacoby, Matthew Miller Jr., Wolf Elkins Duran, and Jose Benito Ocon. The now-dismissed charges included felony firearm possession, drug distribution, and possession of child pornography, among other allegations.

Smith allegedly told the grand jury that the defendants were “bad guys,” described them as “murderers,” and said deliberations “won’t take long.”

Even the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the District of Wyoming acknowledged that Smith’s comments were “ill-advised.”

Smith has a history of aligning with Trump over the Constitution and supporting anti-LGBTQ+ legislation.

In 2025, Smith co-sponsored House Bill 0194, titled “Obscenity amendments,” which, among other provisions, would have criminalized drag shows. The bill also would have repealed exemptions for public and school librarians from the crime of “promoting obscenity” to minors. The wording of the bill was so vague that Republican state Rep. Lee Filer said, “We will end up having to arrest somebody for allowing a child to read the Holy Bible.”

Smith also co-sponsored SF0062, a bill requiring public school students to use restrooms, sex-designated changing facilities, and sleeping quarters that align with their sex assigned at birth. In March 2025, the Wyoming governor signed the bill into law, along with its House companion.

He also attended the Jan. 6 Capitol riot alongside thousands of other Trump supporters.

“Smith was on the Capitol grounds on Jan. 6 … and made the reprehensible claim … that the hundreds of Capitol Police officers who risked their lives that day were guilty of ‘massive incompetence.’ Smith blames the police for what happened on Jan. 6. Without evidence, he claimed that rioters who breached the Capitol were victims of entrapment,” U.S. Sen. Dick Durbin (D-Ill.) said. “Moreover, Smith is not remotely qualified to be a U.S. Attorney. He’s going to be in the package — take it or leave it. Prior to becoming the interim U.S. Attorney, he had no courtroom or litigation experience whatsoever. None. And Smith’s lack of experience has had real-world consequences.”

Prior to his work in the Wyoming state legislature, Smith worked as Director of Planned Giving for the Family Research Council, an organization that describes homosexuality as “harmful” to society with “negative physical and psychological health effects.”

The organization also believes that sexual orientation “should [not] be included as a protected category in nondiscrimination laws or policies, as it is not comparable to inborn, immutable characteristics such as race or sex.”

During questioning before the U.S. Senate, he denied that his work with the organization shows he has loss of impartiality when it comes to matters of LGBTQ+ rights.

Also questioning, Smith was asked about a now-deleted Facebook post in which he appeared to express support for Kim Davis, the Kentucky county clerk who was found to be unconstitutional in her refusal to issue same-sex marriage licenses, despite Obergefell v. Hodges.

“Perhaps Hillary and Obama can share the cell with Kim Davis for refusing to uphold the Defense of Marriage Act,” the post said.

When asked why he posted it, Smith told Durbin: “I do not recall.”

Josh Sorbe, spokesperson for the Senate Judiciary Committee Democrats and Durbin, said:

“Anti-LGBTQ+ extremist Darin Smith has no business serving as a top law enforcement officer in any state — let alone a state with as much history of queer importance as Wyoming. He’s an unqualified insurrectionist with no experience litigating criminal or federal matters, and his bigotry puts into serious question his commitment to upholding the law for all Americans.”

Human Rights Campaign Vice President of Government Affairs David Stacy also condemned Smith’s confirmation to the U.S. Attorney’s office.

“The justice system in America is supposed to be about ensuring the law is applied fairly and equally. But Darin Smith has spent his career obsessed with making life worse for LGBTQ+ people, opposing marriage equality, cosponsoring state legislation targeting transgender youth, and smearing LGBTQ+ people in public statements,” Stacy said. “Just over two decades after Matthew Shepard was brutally murdered in that same state, Wyoming deserves better than tired anti-LGBTQ+ hate at the helm of federal law enforcement. The Senate should reject Darin Smith and demand a nominee who will put the people — and justice — first.”

State Sen. Steven Heffernan (R-Addison) equated transgender people to bestiality on the Vermont Senate floor on May 15 while debating an animal cruelty bill.

Heffernan, who was elected in 2024 to the state Senate, constructed a scenario in which a trans person is indistinguishable from someone committing bestiality.

“In these crazy times, what happens if the individual identifies as an animal having intercourse with an animal? How is the courts going to handle that?” the former member of the Vermont Air National Guard said while debating House Bill 578. “Being that we voted through Prop Four, and if it does make it through this state, and I have a gender identity that I identify as a dog and had sex with my dog, is this law going to affect me?”

State Sen. Tanya Vyhovsky (D-Chittenden Central), who presented H. 578 responded professionally.

“The bill that we are putting forward in the current law is quite clear that any act between a person and an animal that involves contact with the mouth, sex organ, or anus of the person, and the mouth, sex organ, or anus of the animal, without a bona fide veterinary purpose, will be a crime.”

In the video, Heffernan continued to ask inappropriate questions — questions that Vyhovsky answered.

“If I identify as that animal, will this be able to … It says a person. I’m not a person. I’m identifying as this animal I’m having intercourse with,” he said. “We are identifying genders, of whatever gender we decide we want to be, and I think I like this bill. I’m going to vote for this bill, but I want to make this chamber aware of what’s coming.”

Vyhovsky made a statement saying this was a planned move in an attempt to “other” trans Vermonters instead of protecting them.

“Senator Heffernan knew exactly what he was doing,” said Vyhovsky. “Sen. Heffernan is using the same dehumanizing playbook that has been used against LGBTQ+ people for generations — the false, ugly suggestion that queer and trans identity is synonymous with deviance and harm. It was wrong then and it is wrong now.”

This derogatory action at the expense of trans people appears to be part of a pattern of behavior from Heffernan in his official capacity.

In March, Heffernan left the floor right before lawmakers voted on Proposal 4, conveniently missing the bill vote. PR 4, if passed by the state’s voters in the fall, would amend the state constitution to enshrine protections against unjust treatment, including discrimination based on a “person’s race, ethnicity, sex, religion, disability, sexual orientation, gender identity, gender expression, or national origin.”

Heffernan told VTDigger at the time that he left because his stomach was feeling “agitated” and he needed to use the restroom. He said he had not made up his mind on how to vote on the amendment, largely because he’d heard from constituents urging him both to vote for and against it.

“My pizza hit at the right time, I guess,” he said, calling the timing “convenient.”

Despite his leaving — and being the only lawmaker to do so — the state Senate voted to pass it 29-0, with Heffernan marked “absent.” This came after the state House of Representatives voted to pass it 128-14 last week.

Vermont Senate Democrats condemned the statement and used the opportunity to emphasize the need for the state to pass PR 4 on Nov. 4.

“In the wake of Sen. Heffernan’s comments, the stakes of this election couldn’t be more clear,” the statement provided to the Los Angeles Blade read. “Transgender and nonbinary Vermonters are our neighbors, our friends, and our family members. On Friday, Sen. Heffernan used his platform as an elected official representing the people of Vermont to dehumanize them. Senate Democrats will never stop fighting for dignity for all Vermonters. We demand Senator Heffernan apologize to those he has harmed with his words and actions.”

State Sen. Kesha Ram Hinsdale (D-Chittenden Southeast), speaking in her capacity as chair of the Senate Ethics Panel, responded to similar transphobic comments made by President Donald Trump in a White House counterterrorism strategy document last week, in which he said those with “extreme transgender ideologies” should know “we will find you and we will kill you,” stating:

“A lot of people are living in fear in this country because of what somebody with the power of the pen and the power of the military is saying every day,” Hinsdale said. “Just because [speech] is protected does not mean it is worthy of this institution, and does not mean it is worthy of the office we hold and the power that we wield in the lives of Vermonters.”

The Blade reached out to Heffernan for comment but has not heard back.

Former U.S. Rep. Barney Frank (D-Mass.) died on Tuesday. He was 86.

The Massachusetts Democrat served in the U.S. House of Representatives from 1981-2013. Frank in 1987 became the first member of Congress to voluntarily come out as gay.

The Los Angeles Blade earlier this month interviewed Frank after he entered hospice care at his Ogunquit, Maine, home where he lived with his husband, Jim Ready, since 2013. The former congressman, among other things, talked about his new book, “The Hard Path to Unity: Why We Must Reform the Left to Rescue Democracy.”

The book is scheduled for release on Sept. 15.

NBC Boston reported Frank’s sister, Ann Lewis, and a close family friend confirmed his death.

The Blade will update this article.

On May 5, I spoke by phone with Wilfred Labiosa, executive director of Waves Ahead, a Puerto Rico-based LGBTQ+ community organization that for years has provided mental health services, support programs, and safe spaces for vulnerable communities across the island. During our conversation, Labiosa confirmed every concern described in the organization’s public statement announcing the cancellation of “Live Your Pride,” an event scheduled for Sunday in the northwestern municipality of Isabela. But beyond the financial struggles and organizational challenges, what stayed with me most was the emotional weight behind his words. There was pain in his voice while describing what it means to watch spaces like these slowly disappear.

This was not simply the cancellation of a community event.

“Live Your Pride” had been envisioned as a celebration and affirming gathering for LGBTQ+ older adults and their allies in Puerto Rico. In a society where many LGBTQ+ elders spent decades hiding parts of themselves in order to survive, spaces like this carry enormous emotional and social significance. They become places where people can finally exist openly, without fear, apology, or shame.

That is why this cancellation matters far beyond Isabela.

What is happening in Puerto Rico cannot be separated from the broader political climate unfolding across the U.S. and its territories, where programs connected to diversity, inclusion, education, mental health, and LGBTQ+ visibility increasingly find themselves under political attack. These changes do not always arrive through dramatic announcements. More often, they happen quietly. Funding disappears. Community organizations weaken. Safe spaces become harder to sustain. Eventually, the absence itself begins to feel normal.

That normalization is dangerous.

For years, organizations like Waves Ahead have stepped into gaps left behind by institutions and governments, particularly in communities where LGBTQ+ people continue facing discrimination, social isolation, economic instability, and mental health struggles. Their work has never been limited to organizing events. It has involved accompanying people through loneliness, trauma, rejection, depression, aging, and survival itself.

“Live Your Pride” represented much more than entertainment. It represented visibility for LGBTQ+ older adults, many of whom survived decades of family rejection, religious exclusion, workplace discrimination, violence, and silence. These are individuals who came of age during years when living openly could cost someone employment, housing, relationships, or personal safety. Many learned to survive by making themselves invisible.

When spaces like this disappear, something deeply human is lost.

A gathering is canceled, yes, but so is an opportunity for healing, connection, recognition, and dignity. For many LGBTQ+ older adults, especially in smaller municipalities across Puerto Rico, these events are not secondary luxuries. They are reminders that their lives still matter in a society that too often treats aging and queer existence as disposable.

There are still political and religious sectors that portray the rainbow as some kind of ideological threat. But the rainbow does not erase anyone. It illuminates people and stories that society has often tried to ignore. It reflects the lives of young people forced out of their homes, transgender individuals targeted by violence, older adults aging in silence, and families that spent years defending their right to exist openly.

Perhaps that is precisely why the rainbow unsettles some people so deeply.

Its colors expose abandonment, hypocrisy, inequality, and fear. They force societies to confront realities that are easier to ignore than to address honestly. They reveal how fragile human dignity becomes when political agendas decide that certain communities are no longer worthy of protection, funding, or visibility.

The greatest concern here is not solely the cancellation of one event in one Puerto Rican town. The deeper concern is the message quietly taking shape behind decisions like these — the idea that some communities can wait, that some lives deserve fewer resources, and that safe spaces for vulnerable people are expendable during moments of political tension.

History has shown repeatedly how social regression begins. Rarely with one dramatic act. More often through exhaustion, silence, budget cuts, and the slow dismantling of organizations doing essential community work.

Even so, Waves Ahead made one thing clear in its statement. Although “Live Your Pride” has been canceled, the organization will continue providing mental health and community support services through its centers across Puerto Rico. That commitment matters because people do not survive on slogans alone. They survive because somewhere there are still open doors, trained professionals, supportive communities, and people willing to remain present when the world becomes colder and more hostile.

Puerto Rico should pay close attention to what this moment represents. No healthy society is built by weakening the organizations that care for vulnerable people. No government should feel comfortable watching community groups struggle to survive while attempting to provide services and compassion that public institutions themselves often fail to offer.

The rainbow has never been the problem.

The real problem is the discomfort created when its colors force society to confront the wounds, inequalities, and human realities that too many people would rather keep hidden.

Uncloseted Media published this article on May 12.

Editor’s note: This article includes mention of suicide and contains details about those who have attempted to take their own lives. If you are having thoughts of suicide or are concerned that someone you know may be, resources are available here.

By SAM DONNDELINGER and ANASTASSIA GLIADKOVSKAYA | The first panic attack Quinn Pulsipher remembers having was at 8 years old. They describe it as “a pitch-black ghost that hugs them all over and tries to control their mind.” At the beach on vacation with their family, the wind suddenly picked up, and Quinn began hyperventilating, screaming and crying uncontrollably. Nothing could calm them down.

After that first episode, the panic attacks occurred whenever there was a storm, sometimes even when there was just a light breeze.

By the time Quinn was 14, they were “spiraling down.”

They began failing most of their classes. They rarely left their room, even avoiding going to the store with their mom.

Quinn, who is nonbinary, says the deterioration of their mental health was related to the rejection they received for their identity. At school, teachers continued to misgender them even after their records were updated. They endured cyberbullying, transphobic slurs from classmates and lawmakers across the country restricting their rights.

For those six years, Quinn cycled through five therapists who, according to their mom, Hilary, did not understand the challenges Quinn faced as a queer kid.

Hilary spent hundreds of hours searching for help — filling out intake forms, sending emails and calling therapists across Utah — only to get to the scheduling stage and repeatedly hear that providers “weren’t willing to treat a trans kid.”

The therapists who agreed to work with Quinn often failed to understand how being transgender intersected with their anxiety and depression. Some confused gender identity with sexuality. Others dismissed the idea that Quinn’s gender identity could be connected to their worsening mental health.

One night, after a teacher refused to use their pronouns, Quinn reached a breaking point. They came home and cried for hours.

“The feelings were too much,” they told their mother. “I shouldn’t have to fight for my pronouns and name to be used.”

“They kept repeating, ‘I just can’t do it anymore,’” Hilary told Uncloseted Media and Fierce Healthcare. “So I flat-out asked if they were suicidal, and they said ‘yes.’ I was terrified. I prepared myself for the possibility that my child might not be alive when I checked on them.”

Hilary scheduled an emergency appointment with a nonbinary therapist Quinn has now started seeing after getting off a six-month waitlist.

“It didn’t fix everything,” says Quinn. “But what helped was talking to somebody who got it. [My therapist] is just so kind, respectful, calm and accepting. I don’t know any other way to describe just how amazing it is to have someone like this.”

“I feel so lucky we found [their therapist] when we did because I could have lost my kid,” Hilary says.

As almost 1 in 4 American teens identify as LGBTQ, affirming therapy can be life-saving. Yet availability is shrinking. Access to mental healthcare for LGBTQ youth dropped from 80 percent to 60 percent from late 2023 to late 2024, according to the Trevor Project. And in 2025, though 84 percent of LGBTQ youth wanted mental healthcare, 44 percent of them could not get it.

Over four dozen interviews with transgender teens, their families, clinicians and researchers reveal a fragmented health system plagued by long waitlists, prohibitive costs, parental consent complications and a shortage of affirming providers. Clinicians receive little to no formal education on LGBTQ health, often leaving young patients to repeatedly explain their identities in spaces intended to support them. Many LGBTQ youth say they have encountered provider homophobia and transphobia. These barriers are compounded by political hostility and school environments where bullying is pervasive.

“It’s really a wall of barriers and there’s these layers and layers of obstacles that, taken together, make accessing care feel impossible,” says Lana Lipe, a licensed clinical social worker and private practice therapist serving queer patients in Indiana.

“Not only is the need growing, but there’s not enough resources,” adds Jenna Glover, chief clinical officer at Headspace.

The journey to affirming providers

On every major mental health and suicide risk indicator, queer youth struggle more than their heterosexual peers. Analysis of 2023 national data found that queer youth are more likely to experience persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness (66 percent versus 31 percent), poor mental health (54 percent versus 22 percent) and suicidal ideation (41 percent versus 13 percent). They were also more likely to attempt suicide (20 percent versus 6 percent).

Experts stress that the mental health struggles of queer youth are not inherent to their identities. Rather, they exist because of the minority stress they experience. Six in 10 LGBTQ teens experienced bullying in the past year. And those who did reported significantly higher rates of attempted suicide.

“They’re struggling because of what’s being done to them, and what isn’t happening for them,” Lipe says.

Finding affirming providers is difficult in part because there is no mandated LGBTQ cultural sensitivity training for mental health professionals in the U.S. And when training is offered, experts interviewed for this story agree that it’s not sufficient.

“We know that affirming care saves lives,” Lipe says. “The question isn’t whether we can do better; it’s if we’re willing to.”

From 2009 to 2010, medical school curricula included an average of only five hours of LGBTQ-related content, one study found. By 2022, that average had increased to 11 hours, which some maintain is still inadequate. Dustin Nowaskie, a psychiatrist and founder of OutCare Health, a nonprofit offering LGBTQ health resources and provider training, has argued that med schools should require 35 hours of LGBTQ training.

“This leaves the burden of educating providers to patients,” Ellesse-Roselee Akré, assistant professor at Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, told Uncloseted Media and Fierce Healthcare. “It has an impact on people’s willingness to receive care, people’s willingness to continue getting care and contributes to a lot of people finding alternative ways to self-medicate and treat their health themselves.”

Daniel Trujillo, a trans teen from Arizona, was lucky enough to find an affirming therapist.

As early as 3 years old, Daniel expressed his gender identity in drawings. His parents were paying attention and helped Daniel socially transition at 8 years old, which included a haircut and new clothes. Soon after, they found Daniel an affirming care team, including a psychologist for whom they paid out of pocket.

“They had had years of experience navigating how to support transgender youth and how to talk us through things we didn’t know, and help us better understand the needs of our child,” says Daniel’s mother, Lizette Trujillo.

Daniel, now 18, saw his therapist for about eight years. “During my tween and early teen years, it felt really important to have someone to help identify things I was going through,” Daniel says. “As I got older … it was more just someone to debrief with.”

The Trujillos, who have long advocated for trans rights in legislative sessions, moved to Spain in 2025 to keep their family safe due to the current political attacks on trans rights in the U.S. The move meant Daniel could no longer see his therapist.

“The political climate has made it harder and scarier for parents to say that they support their children,” Lizette says.

One way that LGBTQ patients can find providers is through online directories. GLMA, the national association of LGBTQ and allied health professionals, maintains a public list of over 5,000 queer-affirming providers, which it says is the largest online directory of its kind.

To be approved, providers must attest to their approach to LGBTQ care, thereby signaling their commitment to an affirming practice. GLMA reviews each provider’s online presence for anti-LGBTQ activity or affiliations, including social media posts and ties to Southern Poverty Law Center-designated hate groups. In cases where a provider has a limited or no online footprint, GLMA may request professional references. Providers are also asked questions to test their competency in LGBTQ topics and training.

“To be an affirming provider means that you are meeting patients exactly where they are,” Alex Sheldon, GLMA’s executive director, told Uncloseted Media and Fierce Healthcare. “It’s more than just checking a box that says, ‘I’m not going to outright discriminate against you.’ We ask for folks to go a little bit further in their exploration of their own educational ability. … Did you receive LGBTQ-specific training in medical school [or while you pursued your doctorate]? Have you published any LGBTQ related materials? Do you do research in the space?”

In a survey of 375 providers, the findings of which have not yet been published and were shared with Uncloseted Media and Fierce Healthcare, OutCare Health found nearly half of providers stated that the current political climate has made them feel more cautious about being publicly visible as an LGBTQ-affirming provider. “We have witnessed … a shrinkage of LGBTQ+ providers and practices,” Nowaskie wrote in an email.

There are many ways to deepen knowledge. Providers can voluntarily engage with medical association-accredited trainings from organizations like OutCare Health or Violet, which offer provider training on marginalized populations. Companies can either mandate these trainings or offer bonuses to clinicians for completing them.

Violet’s training revolves around a few key questions including whether providers feel confident in their knowledge of a given identity and whether they know what therapies are appropriate. Violet can then track if the training led to changes in provider behavior and patient outcomes.

Violet has seen steady interest in its LGBTQ health training: across 2024-2026, over seven hours of education per provider were completed each year, suggesting sustained engagement. And the number of providers who completed LGBTQ education grew 51 percent on the platform, from over 7,600 to nearly 11,600.

Headspace’s Glover says LGBTQ education should not be a specialization: “It should be a general part of education that any provider should be able to provide this level of care.”

Schools can be a source of pain or support

The lack of affirming providers has real-world effects. It took Emma, a 15-year-old trans girl from Fredericksburg, Va., years to find an affirming therapist to help with her anxiety and depression and to deal with the daily bullying she experienced. Emma’s mom, Angela, says that many therapists who use the tag “trans-accepting” themselves still lack expertise.

“They say LGBTQ-affirming and LGBTQ-welcoming, but … do you know how to deal specifically with gender dysphoria, body dysmorphia, all of the unique and complex things that go along with being trans? Emma is still having to explain who she is over and over again. They don’t even have that concept or grasp of it because, where’s the training?” Angela says.

In 2024, Emma and her family left Florida, where she had been bullied for being trans to the point of fearing riding her bike outside. After researching Bloomington, Ill., Angela felt it would be a safe home for her daughter, joking that half of the 1.6 percent of the population who identify as trans in the U.S. live in Bloomington.

But a few months into seventh grade, Emma was beaten unconscious in a school hallway.

In footage of the attack as described in a lawsuit, another student — who had been overheard saying she would “bully this girl until [she] transfers” — approaches her from behind, pulls her hair and forcefully and repeatedly slams her head to the ground until Emma loses consciousness. She then punches her in the face until someone pulls her off.

“She has officially lived the purest form of hate,” Angela says. “She was only four feet tall and 50 pounds at the time. She is a kid.”

After the attack, Emma was diagnosed with a concussion, a potential traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder, according to the family’s lawsuit against the school. She says the trauma left her feeling unsafe and severely disrupted her education and well-being.

“I was just really depressed and I was always in bed. … I couldn’t eat more than a few crackers a day. All I did was sleep,” Emma told Uncloseted Media and Fierce Healthcare. “[The hate and bullying] just kind of makes you feel like a burden and like you shouldn’t be like the person that you are, even if that’s who you should actually be.”

When done right, schools can offer crucial opportunities for community, resources and support, but they are increasingly a breeding ground for bullying and political threats. Queer students reported their school climate felt more hostile during the 2024-25 school year due to an anti-LGBTQ political climate, a Glisten survey found, and over two-thirds of respondents faced harassment or assault because of their gender identity or expression.

Some states have instituted explicit policies to repress LGBTQ identities. In Florida, schools must abide by so-called “Don’t Say Gay” laws that restrict K-3 classroom instruction on sexual orientation or gender identity and prohibit all employees in K-12 public schools from using students’ preferred pronouns. Teachers must also report changes to a student’s name, pronoun use or restroom use to parents, which effectively outs children who haven’t told their parents about their identity. In Ohio, teachers are required to notify the parents if a student requests to identify as a gender that doesn’t align with their biological sex.

And even in Massachusetts, a blue state with the country’s only Commission on LGBTQ Youth, schools have become tight-lipped in their support, whether out of fear of losing funding or retaliation from parents. “Almost all districts [have] some anti-LGBTQ activity,” the commission’s executive director, Shaplaie Brooks, says. Examples include parents opting students out of LGBTQ-inclusive education; rejection of parent advisory councils meant to ensure LGBTQ inclusivity; bullying from students and rejection from educators; and administrators requesting flag removal or other material signaling affirmation.

Not ‘the next Nex Benedict’

Angela didn’t want Emma to be “the next Nex Benedict,” referring to the nonbinary 16-year-old who was beaten unconscious by kids in a school bathroom and later died from the injuries.

Even before the bullying started, she created an extensive integration plan with Emma’s junior high school. All was going smoothly until a teacher accidentally deadnamed Emma while taking attendance, even though the records were updated. From there, bullying “spread like wildfire,” according to Angela. And once it began, Angela exchanged over 60 emails with school administrators to ensure that the bullying would stop, but to no avail.

The school did not respond to Uncloseted Media and Fierce Healthcare’s request for comment.

Beyond attacks on queer rights, some lawmakers are deprioritizing mental health in general. In 2025, just a month after President Donald Trump ordered the closure of the Department of Education, the agency ended $1 billion in grants meant to train and support mental health professionals who work in schools. And in Indiana, Republican legislators removed teacher training requirements related to social-emotional learning and cultural competency.

Schools are the most common institutional entry point into mental healthcare for youth. But staffing models vary wildly. Some districts have well-staffed health centers, while others share a single provider across multiple schools. Half of all U.S. schools cite inadequate access to a licensed mental health professional as a top factor limiting their ability to provide mental health services to students, according to KFF, a nonprofit research organization.

The share of schools reporting inadequate funding for mental health services has grown since 2021 and resources vary by state. In California, public school students on private or government insurance qualify for free therapy and counseling. Meanwhile, Alabama ranks last nationally in mental health access, with many rural districts struggling with staffing shortages and inconsistent funding. Last June, 16 states successfully sued the DOE over terminated grants, with funding restored for those states by a federal judge in October.

Even organizations trying to support schools are hitting roadblocks. Bring Change to Mind, co-founded in 2010 by actress Glenn Close, operates a national student-led high school club program focused on mental health. In 2025, the organization found that 92 percent of registered club participants said they take better care of their mental health as a result.

Bring Change to Mind had spent seven years building out its high school program in Indiana with the support of the state education department. The organization also launched a middle school pilot at the agency’s request. But in 2025, its DOE funding was not renewed. “I have to find money elsewhere, until things change,” says Pamela Harrington, the organization’s executive director.

And last month in Minnesota, administrators shut down student attempts at Benilde-St. Margaret’s to start a mental health club, despite Bring Change to Mind offering seed funding. The school is near where a shooting took place last year, and the club was intended to support students struggling with the tragedy.

Harrington has also noticed that many students have stopped self-identifying as LGBTQ over the past several years. Registration for the organization’s annual student summit is down, even though participation is up. “Some students don’t feel safe registering,” she says.

Crisis care is another first entry point for many

All of these barriers may be contributing to a surge in youth going to the hospital in a mental health crisis. From 2011 to 2020, despite an overall decrease in pediatric emergency department visits, the portion of mental health-related ED visits by kids and teens soared, with the sharpest increase for suicide-related visits.

In New York state, Northwell’s Cohen Children’s Medical Center sees a disproportionate number of kids who are queer. Whether it’s bullying, depression, anxiety, trauma or suicidality, “all the rates are much higher for these kids, they’re much more vulnerable,” says Vera Feuer, the former vice president for child and adolescent psychiatry at Northwell, who left the organization in April. “Because community access is so difficult, we are often the first mental health providers that these families ever see,” says Feuer, who is now the chief clinical officer of the Child Mind Institute.

She says the main reasons kids end up in the ED for mental health are suicidality and self-harm, or behavioral problems like aggression. Conflicts involving sexuality or gender identity are often part of the trigger, and can get worse in a hospital environment if staff are not properly trained. “Feeling like you add value to the people around you versus feeling like you’re a burden, are really important components of suicidal crises,” Feuer says.

Many patients in the ED deal with trauma. And while evidence suggests that trauma-informed care has a positive impact on patients, the approach isn’t always used in EDs. The psychiatry team at Northwell is trained to be trauma-informed and affirming, which could look like wearing a Pride badge, asking a patient their pronouns or determining if they want to disclose their identity to their parents.

Feuer says even in cases of significant self-harm, some parents are “in utter denial” about their child’s identity. They might see the behavior as attention-seeking and be more concerned about their school test the next day. “The parent is also in crisis, and their brains don’t work particularly well when they’re with us,” she says.

When Emma was admitted to Carle Foundation Hospital in Illinois after the attack at school, Angela says she was offered “zero resources.”

Speaking generally about the hospital’s policies, Holly Cook, director of the Carle Foundation Hospital ED, wrote in an email that the ED has multiple protocols in place for patients experiencing mental health crises, including referrals to the outpatient psychiatric team and community mental health resources. “The top priority … is keeping the patient safe, treating the patient with dignity and helping to explain the processes as they occur,” Cook wrote.

But Angela says none of those supports were offered to Emma after her hospitalization. She says they were left without referrals for counseling, trauma services or clear guidance about where Emma could receive ongoing emotional support.

“The hospital ER doc was aware of the situation,” Angela says. “They didn’t even give me the proper ‘victim information’ paperwork that includes those types of resources. … We got nothing regarding mental health resources from the hospital. … I ended up finding resources on my own for crisis counseling because I just really needed somebody to help my kid.”

A Carle Health spokesperson declined to comment on Emma’s case, citing HIPAA, and reiterated the hospital’s priority of patient safety and dignity.

In other parts of mental healthcare, resources are strained. Last year, the Trump administration cut the LGBTQ-specific option on the 988 suicide hotline, even though suicide rates dropped 11 percent below projections since its rollout. And the 10 states with the largest 988 service uptake saw rates drop 18 percent below projections.

All of this is occurring when research demonstrates that LGBTQ youth who are able to access affirming mental healthcare report lower rates of suicide attempts.

Angela, aware that her daughter needed urgent support after she was attacked, found Project Oz, an Illinois nonprofit that provides survival aid to youth. They provided crisis care weekly to Emma, which helped her process the trauma of the attack. But the care was limited to six weeks due to their care model.

“She really listened and included my [trans identity] in the care,” Emma says. “I wish I had a little bit more time because I got to a point of recovery but it wasn’t complete. I get it could only be six weeks, but it takes time to process this stuff.”

“My biggest barrier to mental healthcare has honestly been people not understanding,” she says. After searching for years, Emma has found a trans therapist that Angela says “sees all the trans youth in [their] town.”

After working with him, Emma’s self-harm has reduced from an average of once a month to only once in the past six months.

“I’m happier. I’ve worked through my struggles a lot more and [don’t] keep it in the back of my mind because that’s what I used to always do. I would just avoid my problems.”

Parental consent Is a significant barrier to care

Emma was fortunate to have her mom in her corner. For many LGBTQ youth who need mental healthcare, getting their parents on board can be a barrier. Family rejection has among the strongest associations with suicidality and poor mental health in LGBTQ youth.

Jessica Schleider, an associate professor at Northwestern University, came across this in her research as director of the school’s Lab for Scalable Mental Health.

When she initially required parental consent for teen participation in youth mental health research, it led to homogenous samples. But when the researchers secured university approval to waive parental consent for future studies, “samples suddenly became about 80-85 percent LGBTQ, from 5-10 percent,” Schleider says. Through follow-up studies, it became clear that fearing parents was often the reason teens avoided care.

This revelation prompted Schleider to lead a study analyzing parental consent laws for mental healthcare around the country. In 2024, she found that a third of states have laws prohibiting teens from independently consenting to therapy. In these states, the study found teens with depression were significantly less likely to get treatment. Things have likely gotten more restrictive since then, per Schleider.

“Parental rights movements have really been sweeping recently, and a lot of these laws are getting more stringent,” says Schleider. The movement hinges on a “push for parents to be involved in every facet of their children’s lives to their detriment,” Schleider adds.

Trans youth are much more likely to experience homelessness than their peers and are overrepresented in foster care. Getting kicked out of their home for identifying as LGBTQ further complicates access. Will they have an ID? Will they know their Social Security number? What about transportation? “We have a healthcare system that’s built on forms and insurance cards,” says Lipe, the private practice therapist in Indiana. “When you don’t have those things, getting access to long-term care or even just routine care becomes impossible.”

Schleider says states, both red and blue, don’t realize the extent to which parental consent laws create barriers to accessing care. “It reflects how these structures and systems are all built, which is without youth input,” she says.

Astrid, a 17-year-old in central Florida who didn’t want her last name included for safety concerns, says that her mental health struggles are fueled by her parents’ rejection of her trans identity. She says these struggles are compounded by the fact that it’s been difficult getting her parents on board with seeking consistent care.

Astrid has experienced depression and anxiety and has self-harmed since she was 10. As therapy helped lessen her gender dysmorphia and body dysphoria as she transitioned, it was a blow when her family had to change insurance and their provider was no longer in network.

“I just can’t have this fight with my parents again,” she told Uncloseted Media and Fierce Healthcare. “It took so long to convince [them] to let me try therapy. … They just think I should occupy myself more, and it will distract me.”

As a result, Astrid has not been in therapy for the last two years.

LGBTQ youth who report living in very accepting communities attempted suicide at less than a third of the rate of those who live in very unaccepting communities, per the Trevor Project. “That’s why chosen family, chosen community is so important,” says Glover. “That’s the basic safety net that we need.”

With his family’s and care team’s support, Daniel Trujillo never experienced suicidality, his mother says. “He’s proof of what happens when you affirm and you love someone,” Lizette says.

Freedom of speech makes it harder to police harm

Once parents are on board, navigating the network of providers and discerning who may be affirming or rejecting still remains a challenge. To demonstrate this, Avery, an 18-year-old from Mississippi, opened up his laptop to Psychology Today, a therapy provider directory, to find a therapist. Avery, who is questioning his gender and has been in and out of therapy for six years to help with his anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation, filters for “transgender” therapists, and only a handful in his area appear. When he adds another filter looking for therapists who work with trans people with autism, zero results turn up.

“There’s a big difference between mental healthcare and good mental healthcare,” says Avery, who asked to use only his first name for safety reasons. “A lot of queer people are dealing with complex cases. I have autism and I want to be able to work with someone who understands that as well as my gender.”

Avery describes a long history of therapy providers who were unequipped or dismissive of his gay identity. Several therapists avoided engaging with his gender questioning altogether, leaving him feeling ignored.

There were more extreme scenarios. He says one therapist used a form of Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, a type of psychotherapy often used for PTSD, suggesting that his sexuality was something he could change.

“He said, ‘Have you considered that identity is culturally constructed and that you could just construct an identity that’s not gay?’” Avery says. “It made it hard to trust therapists for me.”

With Colorado’s ban on conversion therapy being overturned by the Supreme Court on free speech grounds last month, therapists now have more legal protections to use nonaffirming language with clients. Beyond that, the ability for LGBTQ-affirming therapists to practice freely in certain states is being challenged. In March, Texas’s attorney general issued a legal opinion declaring that the prohibitions outlined in a law that makes it illegal for healthcare providers to “transition” kids also apply to certain mental health providers. This limits what they can say in sessions.

“They want to make any mental healthcare for trans kids that is affirming punishable but they are saying free speech protects conversion therapy, so that is hypocritical in our minds,” GLMA’s Sheldon says. “It is going to be a very challenging landscape for mental health providers.”

If you find it, can you afford it?

Even when you identify an affirming provider, finding one that takes insurance is another battle. According to the Trevor Project, affordability was the top reason queer youth couldn’t access care in 2025, with 46 percent reporting they could not afford it.

Many therapists don’t accept insurance, citing difficulties in becoming in-network with payers and low reimbursement rates.

“We’re quite literally pricing kids out of survival,” Lipe, the therapist in Indiana, says.

Aaron Martin, a licensed marriage and family therapist with a virtual private practice in San Francisco, accepts several commercial insurance plans. And his reimbursement rates are not only low but also sometimes delayed. For over a month, Martin was owed over $1,000 by a major insurer. Chasing them down by phone meant wasted time that could’ve been spent seeing patients. “It becomes this really awful game,” Martin says. “It makes a lot of sense why providers are just opting out [of insurance] altogether.”

The Savannah Pride Center offers therapy for free or as low as $5, regardless of insurance status. But getting in is challenging. Parental consent is required, and there is a waiting list. “We definitely saw an uptick in clients right after the election,” Michael Bell, the center’s executive director, says.

The path forward

To combat the shortage of providers, especially in more rural areas, experts interviewed for this story agree that telehealth has emerged as a powerful medium to support queer patients. Use of telehealth for mental healthcare has increased in schools, though some schools are parting ways with virtual providers as federal COVID-19 relief funds expire.

“Technology is here,” says Ashwin Vasan, a physician and epidemiologist and the former commissioner of the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene. “Let’s make it better. … When you do that, you can actually steer it towards meeting the needs of the most vulnerable.”

Virtual providers like Charlie Health are seeing the positive impact. In 2025, 34 percent of Charlie Health’s patients identified as LGBTQ, many of whom struggle with suicidal ideation. “Virtual care can really meaningfully change access and safety equations,” says Caroline Fenkel, co-founder and chief clinical officer at Charlie Health. For example, for trans youth who have not had top surgery, being able to log on virtually where they only have to show their face can feel more comfortable.

Though telehealth can help in some cases, policy change is needed. Akré, of Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, says the barriers trans youth face are systemic, not individual. “Our mental healthcare system as it’s designed, is not really meant to accommodate individuals with diverse identities,” she says.

Echoing Akré, Lipe notes chronic stressors like poverty and disability don’t have an easy fix: “We don’t currently have solutions that match the complexity of that problem.” Some social needs are addressable, like transportation to care. “Anything we can do to help reduce those barriers, so that they can access those types of services, is critical for upstream prevention,” Lipe says.

While expanding LGBTQ-specific training for providers is often cited as a solution, Akré argues that education alone won’t fix the problem. “It doesn’t change behavior at scale — policy does.”

In addition to mandating training requirements, Akré recommends stronger accountability for discrimination in care and clearer reporting systems so patients aren’t left “reporting into a black hole.” Without those structural changes, she says, trans youth will continue to navigate a system that too often requires them to fight for care at the very moment they need it most.

When it comes to schools, Glisten, a national nonprofit advocating for LGBTQ students, says queer kids feel safest when reports of bullying are taken seriously. Glisten recommends that bullies should be held accountable, with parent involvement, and schools should support students in organizing gender and sexuality alliances.

In the absence of sweeping policy changes, non-therapy tools remain a key access point. Schleider’s lab runs Project YES, a free online mental health support tool that offers referrals to local or crisis resources. Within the tool, users can access Project RISE, designed for LGBTQ youth, which teaches skills to overcome internalized stigma.

“I definitely believe that’s our best bet, particularly for these historically stigmatized groups, where changing laws and policies is going to take too long,” Schleider says.

For Quinn, things are still hard, but their affirming therapist has changed how they move through tough moments.

After years of shutting down when things felt overwhelming, Quinn’s biggest change, according to their mom, is their ability to express what they want and need.

“[Their therapist] was kind of the catalyst for us to find a gender clinic and start on estrogen and puberty blockers,” Hilary says.

Quinn says they feel more themselves and feel more engaged with life. Their mom has noticed.

“I went to Costco the other day, and they wanted to come with me,” Hilary says. “That didn’t used to happen. I get to see my kid again.”

Neither the Society for Adolescent Health and Medicine nor the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry, which publish clinical guidelines for providers, responded to multiple requests for comment.