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 Ella Sutton, 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. Ella’s mom, Angela Sutton, 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? Ella 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, Ella 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, Ella 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 Ella 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, Ella 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,” Ella 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 Ella 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 Ella’s junior high school. All was going smoothly until a teacher accidentally deadnamed Ella 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 Ella 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 Ella after her hospitalization. She says they were left without referrals for counseling, trauma services or clear guidance about where Ella 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 Ella’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 Ella, 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,” Ella 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, Ella has found a trans therapist that Angela says “sees all the trans youth in [their] town.”

After working with him, Ella’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

Ella 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, 43 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.

Former U.S. Rep. Barney Frank (D-Mass.), who served in the House from 1981 until his retirement in 2013 and who became the first member of Congress to voluntarily come out as gay in 1987, has resurfaced in the news over the past two weeks after announcing he has entered home hospice care and plans to publish a new book on, among other things, how Democrats can and should regain control of Congress.

 According to media reports and an interview Frank conducted this week with the Washington Blade, his book, entitled “The Hard Path to Unity: Why We Must Reform the Left to Rescue Democracy,” calls on the Democratic Party’s progressive left leaning members to be more strategic in pushing for laws and policies initially considered “politically unacceptable” to most U.S. voters and the American people.

Frank told the Blade he believes the LGBTQ rights movement has succeeded in advancing most of its agenda seeking protections against discrimination by initially pushing less controversial advances such as the end to the ban on gays in the military and non-discrimination in employment before taking on the more controversial issue of same-sex marriage.

While acknowledging that Congress has yet to pass a national law banning discrimination against LGBTQ people in employment, housing, and public accommodations as 22 states and D.C. have already done, he points to the two landmark U.S. Supreme Court decisions, one legalizing same-sex marriage nationwide in Obergefell v. Hodges in 2015, and the other declaring sexual orientation and gender identity are protected categories for which employment discrimination is prohibited under existing federal law in Bostock v. Clayton County in 2020.

Frank notes that while some in the LGBTQ community are fearful that LGBTQ rights are under attack and may be pulled back under the Trump administration, he believes Republicans in Congress at this time will not attempt to repeal any existing LGBTQ protections, especially those regarding marriage rights and employment protections secured by the Supreme Court rulings.

He says transgender rights are the remaining LGBTQ issue that have yet to be adopted rationally, and he fully supports ongoing efforts to advance trans rights. But like his criticism of the progressive left among Democrats, Frank says the efforts to advance trans rights could be jeopardized by the highly controversial issue of “male to female transgender people playing in women’s sports.” 

He added, “That’s the most controversial, the most difficult. It affects the fewest number of people.” While he says trans rights supporters should continue to advocate for that, “they should not make it a litmus test and say well if you’re not for that you’re not a supporter of the rights of transgender people. There are places where people are supportive, and we want to encourage that.”

Frank, 86, told Politico he has entered home hospice care as he deals with ongoing congestive heart failure. He said he is remaining in his home in Ogunquit, Maine, where he has lived with his husband, Jim Ready, since retiring from Congress in 2013.

“I’ve been doing some writing. I wrote this book,” Frank told the Blade. “I’ve relaxed. Meanwhile, my health has been failing. Jim has been a saint in taking care of me,” he said. “And so, I take it easy.”

Frank spoke to the Washington Blade in a phone interview from his home on May 4.

Washington Blade: We’re hearing some interesting reports about the book you’ve been writing. Can you say when it will be published?

 Barney Frank: Sept. 15 is the publication date.

Blade: Some of the reports about the book in the media have said you want the far left within the Democratic Party to be more cautious.

Frank: No, I’ll give you this. The job is to defeat populism to keep democracy. Clearly you have to know what caused it. I believe that the essential cause in the surge of populism was economic inequality and the failure of mainstream liberals to address inequality. And beginning in the ‘80s economic growth became less and less fair in its institutions. And that led to all this anger.

So, the mainstream left finally figured that out after [Bernie] Sanders and Trump in ’16.  So, we then – because I was working to make that change – got the Democrats to pay attention to economic inequality. And Joe Biden’s program did. The problem is at that point, people on the left who had correctly been critical of the failure to address equality said, OK, that’s not the only problem you guys are missing. There are all these other problems.

And they jumped from being right on the question of inequality and equality to believing in a lot more social changes, some of which were just unacceptable to the public. And the mistake they make is they don’t distinguish – there are a lot of issues I’ve been for in my life, but I had to assert that they were not currently politically survivable.

So, you do two things. Those that are politically survivable work to get them done. Others, you become an advocate. But you don’t make the most controversial part of your agenda litmus tests and drive away your allies. You will remember that on marriage that was an issue and in 2000 they insisted you will be for marriage.

So, my thesis is that while the mainstream understood its mistake on inequality, the most militant and ideological of our left misunderstand public opinion and they are pushing the public to — and they are insisting on acceptance of things that are not politically acceptable.

Blade: Having said what you said, how do you see that impacting gay rights or LGBTQ rights? 

Frank: Well in the first place, gay rights – one of the things I want to address – is this fear that gay rights are going to be taken away – rights for LGB people. Nonsense. We’re not going to lose any of those rights. If they tried to undo marriage, for instance, the political reaction they would get would be abortion type sentiment. They are just not going to do that because it causes them too many political problems.

The problem is advances we hope to make in the area of transgender people. But there is no chance of losing – I can’t think of a single right that is in jeopardy. They are not going to reintroduce the ban in the military. They’re not going to tell people their marriages are cancelled. Again, the Republicans are not even trying to do that because they know there would be a terrible backlash. 

With regard to LGBT there is one analogy. And that is the most controversial issue we faced over the years on what was the gay-bisexual agenda was same-sex marriage. And we left that until the end. And you remember we did the military. We did ENDA. We moved on to everything else, and it wasn’t until the very end that we went into marriage. [NOTE: ENDA did not ultimately pass.]

I think the analogy to that is male to female transgender people playing in women’s sports. That’s the most controversial, the most difficult. It affects the fewest number of people. And I believe had we deferred on marriage — people who believe that’s important should advocate for it. But they should not make it a litmus test and say well if you’re not for that you’re not a supporter of the rights of transgender people. There are places where people are supportive, and we want to encourage that.

Blade: You said you don’t think we will lose any rights, most of the laws related to nondiscrimination are from the states or municipal laws that were passed.

 Frank: Tell me what you think will be lost. You and I always have this problem. I’ve always felt you were cynical and skeptical. Tell me what right we now have that’s in jeopardy.

Blade: One would be if the Supreme Court reverses its decision on same-sex marriage.

Frank: If they do, Congress would now step in on that, which would be the passage of Tammy Baldwin’s bill.

Blade: But what I was going to ask you next is in all the years you’ve been in office and as of now a federal LGBTQ rights bill has not been passed by Congress yet. Is there a chance of that happening?

Frank: I do not think it will happen because the members of Congress do not want to be in the position of voting to cancel people’s marriages. There are valid marriages throughout the country. And the notion that Congress will pass a bill invalidating those, no they won’t. They won’t do anything that’s as disruptive and that will cause a strong reaction. Have you seen a federal bill to do that? I haven’t.

Blade: No, and I am sorry if I’m not putting the question across correctly. I’m talking about the bill that bans discrimination based on employment, public accommodations and other areas for LGBTQ people that Congress has not yet passed. You co-sponsored that for many years.

Frank: I know that, and the Supreme Court did that one. No, I don’t think that – oh, all right, that’s a different question than marriage. If the Supreme Court reverses itself on that – I don’t see any sign that they’re going to, then I think you would see the federal bill passed.

 [He is referring to the 2020 U.S. Supreme Court decision that employment discrimination against gay, bi, and trans people was equivalent to sex discrimination, which is prohibited under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.]

Blade: Are you talking about marriage?

Frank: For both for marriage and for non-[discrimination] – I don’t think a marriage bill would pass nationally. To distinguish, I don’t think a bill striking down marriages would pass. Too much violent reaction. As to employment discrimination, where they haven’t acted yet, if the Supreme Court changes that – I think that’s extremely unlikely – then I think Congress would step in.

Blade: Are you saying we may not need an LGBTQ non-discrimination act by Congress for the states that haven’t passed that?

Frank: I would be in favor of that, yes. But again, I think you and I – you have always been pessimistic. There is a political time now that works in our favor. And as I said, on abortion, they burned themselves very badly on abortion. And yes, I’m still for a national anti-discrimination bill. But I do not think the right wing wants to be caught taking rights away that already exist. Because that’s a lot harder than denying them in the first place. And I don’t see any movement for that. You tell me what you are worried about. What bills are you worried about? 

Blade: I was simply saying they haven’t yet passed a federal non-discrimination bill. 

Frank: No, what’s going to change on the Supreme Court? I don’t see a pretty quick reversal on the Supreme Court. So, I think people are just – they have to have a cause. And they are inflating the likelihood that we are going to lose some rights when I see no evidence of it. And in fact, I see a lot of political reasons why those in Congress don’t want to do that.

I’ll tell you there are a lot of Republicans who would vote for same-sex marriage. For example, the leadership would say for Christ’s sake, don’t bring that up. They don’t want to take a position on it. And they got burned on abortion, badly. 

Blade: To the extent that you are observing this, do you think the LGBTQ rights organizations are doing what they should be doing?

Frank: Well, I think some are stressing the negative too much. Because when people believe nothing good ever happens, they may get discouraged. I think they should be concentrating on the transgender issue. And I know the most controversial parts are protecting people’s rights to medical care, their rights selecting their own gender. And that’s what I would be working on. 

And yeah, it would be nice to pass the national bill. I don’t think that’s going to happen. Well, if the Democrats get the House, the Senate, and the presidency, maybe it will happen. But I don’t see the urgency of that because I don’t see any movement to reverse the Supreme Court’s decision.

Blade: What message would you have for the LGBTQ community?

Frank: My message is one, we’re in good shape. And two, that what remains in the transgender issue – who is first? Which are those of your issues that are the most politically acceptable. And you work your way through and as you win on some of those the resistance on the tougher ones will diminish. And the other issue is we are – the problem is the stand to protect the rights of transgender people. But the rights for lesbian, gay, and bisexual people, I do not think they are in jeopardy and I do not think a lot of resources should be spent on being what I think is a very small threat.

Blade: For those states and municipalities that do not have laws protecting LGBTQ people from discrimination, do you think attitudes are changing so there would be little or no discrimination?

Frank: Oh, no question. First of all, I think it’s very unlikely that any of the rights they have will be taken away. And secondly, if they had to take some positive steps to take away protections they would not do it. And I think that ship has sailed in our direction and isn’t going back. In the end, you cannot underestimate there’s a big political difference between denying people their rights in the first place and taking it away from them after they’ve enjoyed it.

Anything is theoretically possible, but I don’t see any evidence that’s likely to happen.

Blade: We’re coming up to the midterm elections this year, but is there anyone coming up in the next presidential election who you might be supporting?

Frank: Oh, I think at this point we’re going to have a fairly open Democratic process. And it’s very clear at this point the way American politics is going it will be a basically supportive Democrat against a basically opposed Republican. And I’ll be supporting the Democrat. And so, this Democrat would be the best one, the most electable. And which one, I haven’t decided that. I want to see how people will fare when they start running.

But I think it is inconceivable that the Democrats would nominate someone who is not fully supportive.

Blade: Some people might be asking what you have been doing since you retired from Congress.

Frank: I’ve been doing some writing. I wrote this book. I’ve relaxed. Meanwhile, my health has been failing. Jim [husband Jim Ready] has been a saint in taking care of me. And so, I take it easy. In terms of what I do, I have two rules, two pieces of advice for people who retire. One is that you should make up two lists. One is you should have a bucket list, a list of things you want to do before you’re through. But more important than the bucket list is a list that rhymes with bucket. That’s a very important list. And that’s one that I increasingly defer to.

Blade: And what is the one other than bucket?

Frank: It rhymes with bucket. What rhymes with bucket?

Blade: Oh, OK.

Frank: That’s the list I follow.

Following the passage of anti-DEI legislation in Florida, Key West will no longer receive any state funding for its future Pride events.

In a letter provided to the Key West Business Guild, the LGBTQ+ visitor and tourism center for the string of islands, a senior assistant county attorney for Monroe County officially said that the organization would no longer receive funding for its ongoing projects as a result of Senate Bill 1134 and House Bill 1001, starting in 2027.

The popular Key West Pride, gay men–leaning Tropical Heat weekend, and Womenfest will no longer receive any state money. This is something that Gay Key West Visitor Center Executive Director Rob Dougherty highlighted will shift how all the largest LGBTQ+ events in the Keys will be held after this year.

He said that the explanation is solely a result of SB 1134 and HB 1001, which limits the official actions of local governments by “prohibiting counties and municipalities, respectively, from funding or promoting or taking official action as it relates to diversity, equity, and inclusion …”

The legislation is being used to impose restrictions on funding events that exclude — whereas the events’ true purpose is to uplift already marginalized groups.

“Womenfest lost it [funding] because it’s a women’s-only event. Tropical Heat lost it because it’s a men’s-only event … that’s how this is being applied.”

This will not impact anything this year, Dougherty assured the Los Angeles Blade; however, the future is not as certain.

“The law that (Republican Florida) Gov. DeSantis signed does not go into effect until Jan. 1, so for 2026 we’re okay,” Dougherty told the Blade. “But it impacts Key West Pride 2027, it impacts Tropical Heat 2027 and Womenfest — so we have lost all funding for those three events.”

He said that this will amount to a large chunk of the expected funding for the LGBTQ+ celebrations, which the Key West tourism board says is “internationally known as a gay mecca.”

“We’re due to lose about $200,000. Not all of that is direct, but the way that the Tourist Development Council (TDC) distributes their money, about $75,000 of it is for Key West Pride, and that helps to pay for things like marketing, swag, and other things that promote the event.”

He went on to explain that marketing to many major metropolitan areas with large LGBTQ+ populations may not see the same Key West advertisements and push as in years past — and that is the point.

“Our digital marketing, our print marketing, our SEO marketing — all of that is paid for through there, and it targets places with direct flights like Washington, D.C., New York, Philly, Atlanta, Dallas. So it’s definitely going to impact that.”

The money that will stop coming is not just to run events and celebrations, he explained. Money that goes back directly into the community is going to be hardest hit.

“An estimated 250,000 LGBTQ+ travelers make it to Key West on an annual basis, and on a very conservative basis, for every LGBTQ+ person there are two to four allies traveling with the same values.”

“The TDC also estimates that $1,500+ is spent per person per visit … so if you take those figures and multiply those all together, it comes up to about $1.2 billion … that is potentially going to be lost.”

He says that this will intrinsically change how Key West’s tourism — especially the large LGBTQ+ side of it — will run, especially since gay vacations need a foundation and expectation of safety and support to blossom.

“We travel based upon where we feel most welcome,” Dougherty said. “Key West has always been its own little place … the LGBTQ+ history of Key West and everything about Key West has always been a little bit weird for people, and that’s why they come here.”

The Guild was formed in 1978 to encourage summer tourism and support Key West’s gay community — becoming the nation’s first LGBTQ+ destination marketing organization. It has grown tremendously from its original membership to now include more than 475 enterprises representing virtually every facet of the island’s business community.

He also went on to say that this should be eye-opening for anywhere considered an LGBTQ+ destination, regardless of whether it is in a blue state or a red one.

“I think it can be a wake-up call across the country, because if it can happen here, it can happen anywhere.”

Following nearly half a year in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention, Allan Marrero has been released and is back home with his husband in New York.

Marrero spent 150 days in ICE custody, held in multiple detention centers across the U.S. after missing an immigration court hearing while in a rehabilitation program for alcohol addiction — a circumstance widely considered “good cause” for failing to appear.

The Washington Blade first reported on Marrero’s case in March after the Cayman Islands native was detained by ICE officers during what was supposed to be a routine marriage-based green card interview at 26 Federal Plaza in New York City.

Marrero had been married to his husband, Matthew Marrero, for two years at the time of the interview. But almost immediately, the experience turned hostile.

The Rev. Amanda Hambrick Ashcraft, a minister at Middle Church in Manhattan who accompanied the couple to provide spiritual support, later described the process as “dehumanizing” and “barbaric.”

During the interview, it became clear the couple was facing an uphill battle. At one point, when asked how they met, Matthew Marrero instinctively looked over at his husband and was “snapped at” and told not to look at him. As the interview continued, the outlook only grew more grim.

Unaware that he had a prior removal order tied to the missed court date while he was in rehab, Allan Marrero was detained on the spot.

Over the following months, Allan Marrero was transferred through multiple detention facilities, including centers in Arizona and Texas, the Everglades Detention Facility — also known as “Alligator Alcatraz,” which has been described as having “unsanitary inadequate conditions” — and ultimately a detention center in Mississippi.

While in custody, Allan Marrero was denied access to prescription medication and, according to advocates, was psychologically pressured by ICE agents to self-deport rather than remain detained while his legal case proceeded.

Although a judge later reopened his case and granted bond after Allan Marrero provided proof that he had been in rehab — a valid medical reason for missing his court date — ICE used procedural mechanisms to keep him detained. A separate judge later issued a ruling denying relief, leaving Allan Marrero in custody.

On the outside, Matthew Marrero said his life felt as though it had been put on pause so ICE could meet enforcement quotas.

“[It feels like] somebody came in and kidnapped someone close to you and took away all of your control and power,” Matthew Marrero told the Blade on March 7. “You shouldn’t be able to have this much control over somebody’s life, especially if they are trying to do the right thing … You’re not going after criminals, you’re not going after the worst of the worst. You’re trying to fill a quota.”

Alexandra Rizio, Allan Marrero’s attorney with Make the Road New York, a progressive grassroots immigrant-led organization, told the Blade that “there seems to be an underlying element of cruelty baked into not only this administration, but everything.”

“It didn’t have to go down that way,” Rizio continued. “If someone goes in for a green card interview and their marriage interview, and they learn that they have a removal order, what the USCIS officer could have done is say, ‘Look, you have a removal order in your name. You need to go hire an attorney right away to get this taken care of. I can’t adjudicate your green card…’ And if you hire a lawyer, you know, you might be able to get it straightened out. Of course, that’s not what happened. And so ICE, which was in the building, were called and they did arrest Allan.”

The Marreros are scheduled to hold a press conference on Tuesday at Middle Church, where Allan Marrero will speak publicly for the first time about his detention.

For additional information on the press conference please visit middlechurch.org. 

Over the past days, I have been walking with a question that refuses to leave me. Not the kind of question you answer from a desk or from a distance, but one that grows out of what you witness in real time, at the gates, in the faces of those who remain there without knowing how any of this will end. What is truly happening inside the University of Puerto Rico, and why have so many students decided to risk everything at a moment when they can least afford to lose anything.

I write as someone who lives just steps away from the Río Piedras campus. These days, the silence has replaced the constant movement that once defined this space. The absence is felt in every corner where students used to pass at all hours. Since arriving in Puerto Rico three years ago, I have come to know firsthand stories that rarely make it into reports or official statements. One of the reasons I chose to stay was precisely this, to serve the university community, to help create a space where students could find something as basic as a safe meal at night and, in some way, ease burdens that are often carried in silence.

I have listened, asked questions, and tried to understand without imposing answers. What I have found is not a collective outburst or a generational whim. What exists is a fracture, a deep break between those making decisions and those living with their consequences every single day.

There has been an effort to reduce this strike to an issue of order, scheduling, or academic disruption. Conversations revolve around missed classes, delayed semesters, and students supposedly unaware of the consequences of their actions. What is rarely addressed are the conditions that lead an entire student body to pause its own future to sustain a protest that offers no guarantees.

Because that is the reality. These are students who fully understand what they are risking, and yet they remain. When someone reaches that point, the least they deserve is not judgment, but to be heard.

From the outside, there have also been attempts to discredit what is happening. Familiar narratives are repeated, legitimacy is questioned, and doubt is cast over intentions. It is easier to do that than to acknowledge that this did not begin at the gates, but long before, in decisions made without building trust.

And something must be said clearly. This is not limited to the gates of Río Piedras. What we are witnessing extends across every unit of the University of Puerto Rico system. Mayagüez, Ponce, Arecibo, Bayamón, Cayey, Humacao, Carolina, Aguadilla, Utuado, and the Medical Sciences Campus. This is not an isolated reaction. It is a movement that runs through the entire institution. Río Piedras may be more visible, but it is not alone. What is happening there reflects a broader unrest felt across the system.

Within that context, one demand has grown increasingly present, the call for the resignation of University of Puerto Rico President Zayira Jordán Conde. This is not the voice of a small group. It reflects a deeper level of mistrust that has spread across multiple campuses.

The Puerto Rican Association of University Professors has also made it clear that this is not solely a student issue. There is real concern among faculty, and a shared recognition of the conditions currently shaping the university. When students and professors arrive at the same conclusion, the problem can no longer be minimized.

Meanwhile, the administration continues to speak in the language of dialogue. But dialogue is not a word, it is a practice. And when trust has been broken, it cannot be restored through statements alone, but through decisions that prove a willingness to truly listen.

In the midst of all of this, there are voices that cannot be ignored. Voices grounded not in theory, but in lived experience. One of them is Joanna Cifredo, a student at the Mayagüez campus, a young Puerto Rican trans woman, and someone widely recognized for her advocacy.

I spoke with her in recent days. What follows is her voice, exactly as it is.

How would you describe what is happening inside the University of Puerto Rico right now, beyond what people see from the outside?

Estamos viviendo momentos muy difíciles, en el sentido de que hay mucha incertidumbre y una presión constante por parte de la administración para reabrir el recinto, pero, entre todo el caos e inestabilidad provocado por las decisiones de esta administración, también hemos vivido momentos muy poderosos. Esta lucha ha sacado lo mejor de nuestra comunidad.

Lo vimos en las asambleas y plenos, donde 1,500, 1,700, hasta 1,800 estudiantes llegaron —bajo lluvia, bajo advertencias de inundaciones— y aun así se quedaron, participaron y votaron a favor de una manifestación indefinida hasta que se atiendan nuestros reclamos.

He conocido a tantas personas en los diferentes portones, estudiantes graduados, aletas, estudiantes de intercambio, estudiantes de todo tipo de concentraciones y se unieron para apoyar el movimiento estudiantil. Estudiantes que vienen a los portones después del trabajo o antes de trabajar. Estudiantes que vienen a dejar agua y suministros entre turnos de trabajo. Viejitos que vienen a los portones con desayuno, almuerzo o cena.

Más allá de lo que se ve desde afuera, lo que estamos viviendo es una mezcla de tensión y resistencia, pero también de comunidad, solidaridad y compromiso colectivo.

Much of what is discussed remains at the level of headlines or social media. From your direct experience, what specific decisions or actions from the administration have led to this level of mobilization?

Desde el inicio, la designación de la Dra. Zayira Jordán Conde careció de respaldo dentro de la comunidad universitaria. No contaba con experiencia administrativa en la UPR ni con un conocimiento básico de nuestros procesos, cultura y reglamentos. Por eso, en asamblea, el estudiantado votó para solicitarle a la Junta de Gobierno que no considerara su candidatura, y múltiples organizaciones docentes hicieron lo mismo. Existía un consenso amplio de que no tenía la experiencia necesaria para liderar una institución como la nuestra.

A pesar de ese rechazo claro, la Junta de Gobierno decidió ignorar los reclamos de la comunidad universitaria e imponer su nombramiento.

Una vez en el cargo, su estilo de gobernanza ha sido poco transparente y poco colaborativo. Sin embargo, el detonante principal de la movilización en el Recinto Universitario de Mayagüez fue su decisión de destituir, de manera unilateral y en medio del semestre, a cinco rectores, incluyendo al nuestro, el Dr. Agustín Rullán Toro, para reemplazarlo por un rector interino, el Dr. Miguel Muñoz Muñoz.

Esta acción, tomada de forma abrupta, provocó de inmediato un clima de caos e inestabilidad dentro de la institución. Y deja una pregunta inevitable: ¿no anticipó el impacto de esa decisión, lo que evidenciaría una falta de experiencia? ¿O lo anticipó y aun así decidió proceder? No está claro cuál de las dos es más preocupante.

Además, esta decisión tuvo consecuencias concretas para el estudiantado, incluyendo el retiro de becas educativas para nuevos integrantes del RUM por parte de la Fundación Ceiba, que calificó la movida como “sorprendente” y “preocupante”. Decisiones impulsivas como la que tomó la presidenta ponen en peligro la estabilidad de nuestra institución y la acreditación de la universidad.

As a trans woman within this movement, how does your identity intersect with what is happening, and why does this also shape the future of people like you?

Soy una de varias chicas trans que formamos parte activa de este movimiento estudiantil.

For those outside the UPR who believe this does not affect them, what are the real consequences of this crisis?

La Universidad de Puerto Rico se fundó para servir al pueblo.

It is impossible to overstate the role the University of Puerto Rico and its students have played in shaping the social, cultural, and economic life of this country. Its impact extends into science, medicine, and every profession that has sustained Puerto Rico over time. No other educational institution has contributed more.

After listening to her, one thing becomes undeniable. This is not just another protest, but a generation refusing to let go of what little remains within its reach. And when a generation reaches that point, the issue is no longer the strike, the issue becomes the country itself.

More than 100 organizations have issued a travel advisory for the U.S. ahead of the 2026 World Cup.

The World Cup will take place in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico from June 11-July 19.

“In light of the deteriorating human rights situation in the United States and in the absence of meaningful action and concrete guarantees from FIFA, host cities, or the U.S. government, the undersigned organizations are issuing this travel advisory for fans, players, journalists, and other visitors traveling to and within the United States for the June 2026 FIFA Men’s World Cup. World Cup games will be played in 11 different cities across the United States, which, like many localities, have already been the target of the Trump administration’s violent and abusive immigration crackdown,” reads the advisory that the Council for Global Equality and other groups that include the American Civil Liberties Union issued on April 23.  “The impacts of these policies vary by locality.”

“While the Trump administration’s rising authoritarianism and increasing violence pose serious risks to all, those from immigrant communities, racial and ethnic minority groups, and LGBTQ+ individuals have been and continue to be disproportionately targeted and affected by the administration’s policies and, as such, are most vulnerable to serious harm when traveling to and/or within the United States,” it adds. “This travel advisory calls on fans, players, journalists, and other visitors to exercise caution.”

The advisory specifically mentions Renee Good.

A U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent on Jan. 7 shot and killed her in Minneapolis. Good, 37, left behind her wife and three children.

The full advisory can be read here.

Delaware is widely known for its firsts. It’s the first state to ratify the U.S. Constitution, the first to join the Union, and the first to decide that no sales tax would be levied on its citizens.  

Another historic first to come from Delaware is Sarah McBride. McBride is the first and only transgender member of Congress. The Blade sat down for an exclusive interview with the congresswoman to discuss a wide array of topics — from the Trump administration’s attacks on transgender service members to her current obsession with the reality TV show “The Traitors” — as well as her legislative work, which has already made her one of the busier members of her freshman class.

Her office in the Longworth House Office Building reflects the nuances of her political identity: deeply serious policymaking paired with an unmistakable sense of personality. Photographs of McBride with friends, family, and political heroes line the walls. A windowsill is filled with crystals. A “Bridgerton” pillow sits on her office couch — small artifacts that soften the institutional weight of Capitol Hill without diminishing it.

When asked how she was feeling more than a year into her first term, McBride acknowledged the climate she was elected into — marked by what she described as toxicity and division under Trump-era politics — but explained that she remains energized by the work ahead.

“I am more energized and motivated now than I was a year and a half ago,” said McBride from her Longworth office. “I’m also more hopeful than I was when I first started here. It was a couple of weeks before Donald Trump was sworn in – the chaos, the cruelty, and the fear was pretty pronounced.”

That sense of hope, she made clear, is not necessarily shaped by the noise inside Congress—including attacks from colleagues like Rep. Nancy Mace (R-S.C.) and Rep. Keith Self (R-Texas)— but instead by what she sees from the constituents she represents back home.

“I have seen the goodness of my neighbors, the goodness of people across Delaware who remind me, day in and day out, that the division and the toxicity we see online are not actually representative of real life. That social media can impact real life, but it’s not representative of it, and that is, for me, incredibly comforting, and I think, a profound reminder that we can still have conversations across disagreement, we can still persuade people, and we can still grow our ranks.”

That belief — that persuasion is still possible — serves as the through line for how McBride views both her role in Congress and the broader political moment. It also frames her sharp criticism of the Trump-Vance administration, which she argues is rooted less in governance than in destruction.

“Donald Trump is not a conservative, he is not a traditional Republican. Trump wants to destroy. His billionaire donors want to destroy. They thrive in a culture of cynicism. They want to destroy our attention span and mine what little remains for parts. They want to destroy jobs and health care so they can consolidate power for themselves, and in this moment, they want to destroy the international moral order so that the strong can plunder the weak.”

Still, she argues, that approach may be backfiring politically, something she says has only strengthened her sense of optimism.

“We have seen public opinion turn against the cruelty and incompetence of this administration, we’ve seen outrage and rightful opposition. One of the things that I feared early on was that this administration’s momentum would only grow, but instead what we’ve seen is that the cult of personality has begun to break. A growing and very large majority of Americans oppose what they’re seeing from this administration, and that is hope inducing for me. But beyond all of that, I am more motivated because of the change that I’ve been able to witness here in this office and on behalf of my constituents.”

That motivation is not abstract. It is measured in casework, legislative negotiations, and tangible dollars flowing back to Delaware. Alongside broader efforts, McBride co-sponsored the bipartisan “Equal Opportunity for All Investors Act” (H.R. 3339), which passed the House unanimously in 2025 while referred to the Committee on Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs. The legislation broadened access to investment opportunities by allowing individuals to qualify as accredited investors based on expertise rather than wealth alone.

“Our office has returned roughly $5 million to individual Delawareans and secured roughly $150 million in critical investments for Delaware. I’ve been able to introduce more bipartisan bills here in Congress than any other freshman, and we’ve been able to prevent every single anti-trans bill or major provision from becoming law. That is something that I don’t know that I would have believed was possible, but it’s been a byproduct of the strategy that we have undertaken. In short, what I’ve seen is that we can still win hearts and minds and that you can still deliver for people here in Congress.”

That emphasis on strategy over spectacle defines much of McBride’s approach to politics. It also informs how she navigates her identity as the first openly transgender member of Congress. While her presence carries symbolic weight, she resists the idea that symbolism alone is sufficient.

“No single person can be the voice of any one community, certainly not a community as diverse as the entirety of the LGBT community. I believe that part of my responsibility as a trans person who has the privilege of serving here is to guarantee that while I may be a first, I’m not the last. One of the reasons why anti-trans politics has been so successful is because the right wing has characterized trans people, and one of the greatest things that I can contribute is helping to diversify the public’s understanding of who trans people are. That does far more to change the public’s perception and political dynamics than anything else that I could do.”

Much of that work, she emphasized, happens away from cameras and headlines. It’s an approach that has at times drawn criticism from some LGBTQ advocates who favor more confrontational tactics, but one she frames as essential to long-term change.

“In a social media age, we perceive advocacy to look like one very loud thing, but a lot of my work is also behind the scenes. Speaking out and posting a clip is not the only way to advocate for people; in fact, it’s often the avenue of last resort if you actually want to deliver results. Despite a campaign that spent $200 million in anti-trans ads and an administration obsessed with trans people, not a single anti-trans bill or provision has become law. That’s not by coincidence, it’s by hard work and a strategic approach to defending the LGBTQ community.”

That same discipline carries into how she handles political attacks and public scrutiny.

“When you are a first, people will be out in force to try to bait you into fights to prove that people like you don’t belong. If you respond to provocations, they will turn you into a caricature and say you’re the aggressor. My job is to be a proud Delawarean and a damn good legislator, and the rest will follow from that. When you don’t take the bait, you protect your ability to deliver results.”

That approach has helped her build unlikely alliances across the aisle.

“I made it clear that I was willing to work with anyone if we could find common ground to help my constituents. As a byproduct, a number of my Republican colleagues came up to me and said welcome to Congress and let’s find opportunities to work together. That has resulted in me being able to introduce more bipartisan bills than any other freshman. We’ve been able to secure investments and pass legislation that opens up more capital to entrepreneurs from underrepresented backgrounds.”

Looking ahead to the midterms, McBride is both cautious and pragmatic.

“I feel cautiously optimistic that if the election were held today, that Democrats would win a majority in the House, but the problem is that the election is not held today. Republicans will be out in force with a boatload of money and will continue to try to use people like me as a political wedge issue. We have to meet all voters where they are and keep our eyes focused on the universal needs that our constituents have. It’s going to require us to have a big tent from our left to our right so that we can meet this moment.”

“We should not put anything by the Republicans; they will seek to suppress the vote and undermine the will of the people. That reinforces the need for us to win by such a margin that our win is too big to contest. It’s going to require us to reach voters who didn’t vote for us and compete in places we have written off. If the stakes are as high as we say they are, then we need all of the help that we can get.”

Her focus on long-term party-building is equally central to her vision — one that would be willing to take a leadership position on if given the chance.

“I’m really grateful that our leadership has offered me opportunities to have my voice heard and to represent the caucus. I am eager to find any opportunity to elevate the voices of my constituents and contribute. My background was in communications, and I believe our party can find new ways to communicate with voters. Our caucus is going to be the tip of the spear in helping to rebrand our party and build a governing majority.”

“We need to deliver universal child care, a higher minimum wage, Medicare for all who want it, and millions of new homes. Winning the next election is not the end; we have to continue building toward a durable majority. I’m eager to contribute to that vision in any way that my caucus sees fit. That includes potentially serving in leadership if that’s where I can be most helpful.”

On foreign policy, she is equally direct. The ongoing war with Iran was something she, as a member of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, is not only familiar with but completely opposed to.

“The war is illegal, but it’s also stupid, and it is a catastrophe for the United States. [The Trump administration] has not achieved any of their stated goals, and everything that has been destroyed can be rebuilt. Iran now has more leverage globally, including control of the Strait of Hormuz. This war raised costs, lost lives, and achieved what was already achieved a decade ago without any of that.”

That frustration echoes in what she hears from voters at home.

“Delawareans are pissed, and they’re pissed because this president promised he would end wars and lower costs. He has broken both of those promises, costs are higher and there are more wars. They are facing higher costs when they were already struggling, and they see that his policies have made that crisis worse. People across this country are angry that those promises were broken.”

Concerns about political violence and digital radicalization also weigh heavily on her. Last week’s attack at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner is one instance of politically motivated violence continuing to fester and instill fear in the American political sphere.

“I was horrified when I heard that there were shots fired, and the rising tide of political violence is a cancer for our democracy. Social media is radicalizing people and fostering misinformation and conspiracy theories. When people see a world where everyone is either 100% with them or against them, they begin to believe persuasion is impossible. That is fertile ground for violent extremists and it is unsustainable for democracy.”

“Democracy requires faith in other people’s capacity to change, and when that belief is lost, peaceful politics breaks down. People are not as divided as the algorithms make it seem, and most people are good and decent. We can tap people’s better angels, but we have to be willing to be in conversation with them. You cannot tell me that change is impossible, I have seen it and lived it.”

That belief underpins her support for regulating social media platforms, though she is careful to stress that policy alone is insufficient. The congresswoman constantly faces threats, repulsive comments, and detestable words from people on her social media channels for her identity alone.

“There’s no question that we need regulation of social media platforms, social media is the 21st century big tobacco. Whether it’s liability, age limits, or transparency of algorithms, there are a host of solutions we need to pursue. But policy solutions alone will not solve this problem. We have to get offline and have conversations in person.”

“When we have conversations in person, we realize we have much more in common than we think. We are currently having political conversations in the most toxic place possible, online. That has to change if we want to sustain democracy. You will come away more hopeful when you engage with people face to face.”

Her LGBTQ priorities remain anchored in policy and humanism— something she references repeatedly.

“I helped draft the Equality Act and I would love to see it become law. In the nearer term, we should prioritize reversing the ban on transgender troops. These are decorated service members who have been fired for no other reason than their gender identity. They deserve to be treated with dignity and fairness and judged on their merits.”

She continued at length about the transgender service members removed under Executive Order 14183, emphasizing both their service and their erasure.

“These are individuals who are not just qualified, but more than qualified, who have been decorated service members, who have received promotions with unanimous and unqualified endorsement by their superior officers who have been fired from service to this country for no other reason than their gender identity. And I believe in this moment… there is no more effective representation of our community than the transgender service members who have put their lives on the line to serve this country and who have been treated with nothing but disrespect from this administration. They deserve to be treated with dignity and fairness and judged on their merits.”

Even in partisan fights, she returns to her guiding principle of discipline and restraint.

“Sometimes in politics you have to throw a punch with grace. Republicans initiated a mid-decade redistricting effort to gerrymander and pad their majority. They expected Democrats to fold, but those days are over. We fought back and we’re not going to let them steal elections in advance.”

When the conversation turns to how she maintains balance amid the chaos of national politics, McBride returns to unexpected sources of grounding — television, pop culture, and humor.

“I’ve watched every season of ‘The Traitors,’” she said.

When asked if she would ever take a trip to the Scottish Highlands to visit Alan Cumming’s castle, she said it would have to be after her work is done in Congress.

“If I was ever on ‘The Traitors,’ I would never be able to be a traitor. I would get too nervous and overwhelmed. I would have to be a faithful. But I think if there is a future where I am on that show, it will be after I’m in elected office.”

And through it all, she draws parallels between reality television and political life itself.

“If you want to understand how many in Congress work, the best tutorial is ‘The Real Housewives’ … There are people whose sole purpose is to get attention… If you throw wine back, they will just keep coming back for more … I’m not going to allow someone to get attention at my expense … I think all you need to understand is [Capitol Hill] is like an episode of ‘Real Housewives.’”

Still, for McBride, even amid the spectacle of Washington, the focus ultimately returns home.

“I am excited for beach season and I love Rehoboth and Baltimore Avenue,” she says. “It is the professional privilege of my lifetime to represent Delaware. I represent a district that is urban, suburban, and rural, and I get to see the full diversity of this country every day. Delaware shows that a different kind of politics is possible.”

Uncloseted Media published this story on April 28.

By EMMA PAIDRA | Shlomo Satt remembers first thinking he might be gay at 13 years old after seeing an article about gay marriage in the newspaper. Growing up in an Orthodox Jewish community on Long Island, New York, Satt immediately felt anxious about what this could mean for his future.

“I think that’s when I started thinking, ‘Oh, am I that? Am I gay?’” Satt, now 30, told Uncloseted Media and GAY TIMES.

As Satt came to realize he was gay, his anxiety skyrocketed. He was aware that only half of Orthodox Jews — and 20 percent of ultra-Orthodox Jews — are accepting of homosexuality.

“In my community, it’s very shunned to be gay,” says Satt. “So it was really, really, hard for me to accept that I was attracted to other men, because I was like, ‘It’s not what the Torah says you’re allowed to be.’”

Unlike more progressive denominations, Orthodox Judaism advocates for a more literal understanding of the Hebrew Bible, known as the Torah. For example, verses such as Leviticus 18:22, which states that “You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination,” are more likely to be interpreted verbatim by Orthodox rabbis.

“One of the hallmarks of growing up Orthodox and queer is feeling really alone,” says Satt. “It’s not something we talked about.”

Stories like Satt’s represent what’s motivating LGBTQ+ people to leave Orthodox Judaism. While little research has been done, one 2023 study from Brooklyn College CUNY found that only about 15 percent of LGBTQ+ people left Orthodox Judaism directly because of their sexual orientation or their religious views on homosexuality. Other reasons for leaving the denomination included religious views on homosexuality, being judged, bullied or alienated, emotional abuse, trauma, wanting more freedom, and mental health issues.

“It was really hard for me to engage in [Orthodox Judaism] and not feel deep shame or trauma,” says Satt. “That’s why I left.”

Growing up Orthodox

Unlike many Orthodox Jewish families, Satt’s parents allowed him some access to technology and even played secular music like The Beatles. Still, he had no television in the house growing up and zero education about LGBTQ+ people.

“I didn’t even know that someone could be gay until a friend told me in sixth grade,” he says. “For most of my upbringing, it wasn’t like homophobia was espoused. It just was literally not talked about.”

After the newspaper article triggered Satt’s “gay awakening,” he struggled to keep his feelings inside. “It was really hard for me to accept that I was attracted to other men,” he says. “All I wanted was just to be straight.”

Staying silent about his emotions took a toll. He worried that his dreams of having a big Jewish family would be unattainable. “I wanted to have a wife and kids and be normal within my community, and it felt like I couldn’t have any of that if I was gay,” he says.

By around age 15, Satt’s stress levels reached a breaking point. “I had a night where I was just really, really depressed and crying to God about my sexuality. It was really hard for me to cry at that point, because I was so not tuned in with myself.” He decided to meet with a school psychologist who was part of the Orthodox community. After telling the psychologist he might be gay, the response he received was, “We can fix that.”

Satt remembers initially feeling immense relief at the thought that his sexuality could be cured. “I was so joyful,” says Satt. For the next three and a half years, he worked with members of the Orthodox community who practiced conversion therapy.

The turning point

This therapy, which has been widely discredited for decades, culminated with Satt doing a retreat through an organization called Brothers Road, where participants were encouraged to reenact their trauma in front of each other. He was forced to beat up a punching bag with a metal baseball bat, pretending it was his mother. “I don’t know what the purpose of this was, but it was horrible. And doing this for 35 adult people, it’s totally insane and super humiliating.”

After the therapy failed, Satt began to question the negative messaging he had been taught about being gay. “The things that are more innate to me, I believe, are from God. I didn’t choose to be gay, I just was gay,” he remembers thinking.

With the help of a licensed trauma specialist, Satt reconstructed his relationship to Judaism. He is still Jewish today, and has plans to pursue rabbinical school, but he left Orthodoxy behind. “I actually started really heavily diving into spirituality as a means of meaning in my life, as a means of connecting with my Jewish roots and my tradition, but in entirely different ways. One hundred percent progressive, 100 percent equitable, only learning with people who conferred my identities,” says Satt, who now identifies as a “post-denominational Jew.”

This transition hasn’t been easy. Satt has lost all contact with his family and describes losing the relationship with them as “the hardest thing” in his life.

Unfortunately, Satt’s experience isn’t unusual. An article written by the founder of Jewish Queer Youth (JQY), a nonprofit mental health organization, found that from 2016 to 2023, over 2000 queer youth from Orthodox families accessed support services provided by JQY. And amongst closeted Jewish Orthodox gay men, concerns about the impact of their sexuality on family relationships are a common theme.

Despite this, Satt says he’s experienced immense joy since accepting his sexuality, healing through therapy with an affirming Orthodox rabbi, and having a Jewish wedding where he married his long-term partner. “I started to, slowly but surely, take back my own narrative and live the life that I wanted.”

The rabbinical perspective

While one 2025 study published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior found that some ultra-Orthodox communities are moving away from uniform rejection of homosexuality, gay rights remain controversial in many Orthodox communities. For example, Chabad, a major movement within Orthodox Judaism, states on its website that when it comes to queer desires, “even if it burns inside for a lifetime, the best thing for you, for your health, and for your ultimate satisfaction in life is to subdue and re-channel that desire.”

Mark Dratch, an Orthodox rabbi in Jerusalem, says that there is a limit to the accommodations an Orthodox synagogue can make.

“The sense of alienation, the sense of depression and the person’s emotional and sometimes physical well-being, that’s part of a rabbi’s responsibility,” Dratch told Uncloseted Media and GAY TIMES. “So I think there’s room to be welcoming and embracing, while at the same time living with this kind of dissonance of what tradition requires.”

Though Dratch ultimately views queerness as being in opposition to Orthodox Judaism, he still believes it is his duty to try and support LGBTQ+ congregants. “I may not like this part of you, but if I don’t embrace you, then we’re going to lose the other 95 percent of your Jewish commitment,” he says.

Dratch says LGBTQ+ Jews would be welcome to attend services in his synagogue, but he wouldn’t marry a gay couple. “It may not be good enough for some LGBT people in these communities,” he says. “They want to be more than tolerated.”

Marceline’s story

It’s not just gay people who struggle. As early as 9 years old, Marceline Franco locked herself in her bathroom and wrapped a towel around her head, trying to picture herself as a woman. Assigned male at birth and raised in a Syrian Orthodox Jewish community in Brooklyn, N.Y. Franco felt intense guilt for wishing she was a girl.

“I desperately, more than anything, wanted to be a woman,” says Franco, now 30 years old. “I would sit in the bathroom as my only safe space to cry and pray and beg.”

Staying quiet about wanting to dress as a woman and go by a girl’s name put an immense amount of stress on Franco. “One of my fantasies as a kid was that I could wake up in a woman’s body. But in the bed next to me was a clone of me that could live out the rest of my life as my family and community would have wanted,” she says. “I felt horrible that I would rob them of me.”

A shared experience with conversion therapy

By the time Franco entered college, she decided to see an ultra-Orthodox therapist. “Over the next four and a half years, I participated in some version of conversion therapy,” she says. “[My therapist’s] view of it was more of a fetish/escape, and that it was something that I could learn to control and basically bury.”

Franco’s therapist taught her to think of herself in four parts. When Franco suggested that there was a fifth part — a girl — her therapist shut the idea down. Franco found the elimination of this part of her troubling. “It was the erasure of my transness with this person in a professional setting, which is deeply, deeply problematic,” says Franco.

Similar to Satt, conversion therapy didn’t work. And after watching queer comedian Hannah Gadsby’s comedy special “Nanette” for a college class, Franco began to question her therapist even more and started reconsidering her religious upbringing.

“I no longer was able to hold the belief that the Torah was true,” she says. “I realized that I may be holding onto religion to protect myself from coming to terms with the grief of being alone in the world … and justifying staying closeted.”

Franco ultimately left organized Judaism behind.

Six months later, she came out as trans. In order to explore her gender, she cut contact with her family. However, upon trying to reestablish a relationship with them as a woman, things did not go well. “I was nearly barred from my own grandfather’s funeral and I was barred from a family Shabbat meal mourning him. Two weeks later I was kicked out of my cousin’s wedding for showing up dressed as myself,” she says.

“The grief is immeasurable. It is nearly impossible to mourn people and relationships that are actively still living in this world. … And to move through all these major life moments alone has been really difficult.”

Despite this loss, Franco still practices elements of Judaism that resonate with her and has found joy and meaning in her transition. “Once I just started speaking my mind, saying how I felt, it stopped being confusing. I stopped hating myself for having these feelings. I just started loving myself.”

How Satt and Franco learned to move forward from religious trauma

Both Satt and Franco left the Orthodox communities they grew up in.

Still, Satt says Judaism has been the healing force for him. “It brought me back into a relationship with God, The Infinite, The Sum of All Good,” he says. “It ultimately made me feel very connected to myself, to humanity and to my heritage.”

Satt is thrilled that some rabbis are fighting for more inclusivity in the Orthodox Jewish space, but unless more begin to follow in their footsteps, he believes LGBTQ+ Jews will continue to disaffiliate from the denomination.

Though Franco no longer practices Judaism, she still finds meaning in some of the lessons she learned when she was.

“When my therapist was my mentor, she had me start to look at the world as having divine providence. And I did see a lot of that in my life. To this day, I still do,” she says. “And I just have reinterpreted that God doesn’t care that I’m Jewish or not. God loves me as I am.”

Four loud bangs were heard in the International Ballroom of the Washington Hilton during the annual White House Correspondents’ Dinner on Saturday.

According to the Associated Press, a shooter opened fire inside the hotel outside the ballroom.

Attendees could hear four loud bangs as people started to duck and take cover. During the chaos sounds of salad and glasses were dropped as hotel employees, and guests ducked for cover.

The head table — which included President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance, first lady Melania Trump, and White House Correspondents Association President Weijia Jiang — were rushed off stage.

“The U.S. Secret Service, in coordination with the Metropolitan Police Department, is investigating a shooting incident near the main magnetometer screening area at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner,” the U.S. Secret Service said in a statement. “The president and the First Lady are safe along all protects. One individual is in custody. The condition of those involved is not yet known, and law enforcement is actively assessing the situation.”

Trump held a press conference at the White House after he left the hotel.

“A man charged a security checkpoint armed with multiple weapons and he was taken down by some very brave members of Secret Service,” said Trump.

Trump said the shooter is from California. He also said an officer was shot, but said his bullet proof vest “saved” him.

D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser, interim D.C. police chief Jeffrey Carroll, U.S. Attorney for D.C. Jeanine Pirro, and other officials held their own press conference at the hotel.

Carroll said the gunman who has been identified as Cole Tomas Allen was armed with a shotgun, handgun, and “multiple” knives when he charged a Secret Service checkpoint in a hotel lobby. Carroll also told reporters that law enforcement “exchanged gunfire with that individual.”

Both he and Bowser said the gunman appeared to act alone.

“We are so very thankful to members of law enforcement who did their jobs tonight and made sure all guests were safe,” said Bowser. “Nobody else was involved.”

The Los Angeles Blade will update this story as details become more available.

Uncloseted Media published this article on April 23.

By SOPHIE HOLLAND | At 13 years old, I remember looking in the mirror in my Toronto bathroom and thinking, “Yeah, I’m a lesbian.” At the time, I thought it was a dirty word. Thinking back, it could be because the first time I heard it was when a family member said, “I don’t know what a lesbian is, they are like aliens.”

And although I walked around in camouflage Crocs with a rainbow My Little Pony charm, plaid knee-length shorts and a shark tooth necklace (yes, these are all, in my opinion, stereotypically lesbian apparel!), I didn’t feel like I fit the mold. The longer I thought about it, the worse I felt, so I buried my feelings deep inside.

Now I am 25, and I have been out since I was 22. Three years ago, I never could have imagined that I’d be working for a queer news publication and celebrating Lesbian Visibility Week, an annual event meant to honor and uplift lesbian perspectives and highlight the hardships our community faces. To me, LVW is so important because, frankly, it has been an absolute shit show getting here, to a place where I feel love and joy most days.

I think back to the frustration of constantly being asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?” Of watching princess movies and seeing a broken girl only find herself when her prince charming arrives. I remember listening to music that was always about heterosexual relationships. I remember feeling left out in high school when, one by one, my friends got boyfriends.

I tried the boyfriend, and I tried really hard for it to work at a large detriment to my wellbeing. I brainwashed myself into thinking I was probably bisexual, which I told my closest friends around 16 and unsuccessfully told my parents at the same age. I was probably subconsciously using this as a litmus test of their acceptance and to soothe the anxiety I felt around my sexuality.

Learning to love who I am did not only come from me unraveling my internalized lesbophobia and dissecting the oppressive societal messages of heteronormativity. It came from meeting an awesome community of lesbians and queers. I found people who understood my worldview and who showed me the ropes. I no longer had to stutter over concepts like lesbian loneliness or my frustration with misogynistic straight men.

They all just got it.

Without this community, I am not sure if I could be as warm and confident in myself as I am today.

And while I still experience homophobia, like being spat on while walking with an ex in downtown Toronto or having a stranger yell in my face “Are you fucking lesbians?” in Kensington Market, the joy and love still outweighs the nasty.

So, as the sentimental dyke that I have become, I decided to ask a set of lesbians in my orbit — including my friends as well as Uncloseted staffers, board members and followers — if they would share a little bit about what makes them love being a lesbian. And now, I can share it with all of you. Here they are. Happy LVW!

Timi Sotire

Falling in love with her was a reset. I felt like a kid again, hopeful about the future. We’ve had to overcome many obstacles to be together, but I’d choose her in every lifetime. I was sick with a long-term health condition when we met, and hanging out with Sophia really helped me with my recovery after my surgery.

Bella Sayegh

Being a lesbian is one of the most beautiful things in the world. To be authentically yourself in resistance and joy is so special within the lesbian community.

Parker Wales

When I met Liv, I finally understood why almost every song is about love.

Gillian Kilgour

There is no connection quite as perfect as between lesbians, no one sees me like my lesbians do.

Chyna Price

There’s many things I love about being a lesbian. But here are my top three:

1. There’s just a deeper understanding when it comes to being loved by another woman.
2. The next one would be the sense of community, especially being a POC masculine-presenting lesbian. I don’t feel like I’m cosplaying as someone else like I felt like I was doing before I came out.
3. There’s so much history going back to the 1800s on how we found and fought for our love. That fight makes me proud because it shows me … that we’ve [found] ways to express our love even when it was misunderstood, illegal and deemed as madness.

Hope Pisoni

Before I knew I was a lesbian, romantic relationships seemed suffocating — it felt like everyone would expect me to act my part in the meticulous performance that is heterosexuality. But meeting my spouse and discovering our identities together showed me just how freeing it could be to love without a script to follow.

Leital Molad

It was the joy of watching the New York Sirens defeat the Toronto Sceptres at our first professional women’s hockey game — surrounded by hundreds (maybe thousands?) of cheering lesbians.

Angela Earl

I spent years building a life that looked right. But I never felt settled, and eventually I started asking what would actually make me happy. Coming out was about more than who I love, it was letting go of everything I was told to be. The last few years have felt like coming home to a life that had been waiting for me.

Tali Bray

What I love about being a lesbian is what I love about being in love … the wonder and joy of “oh, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.” I love moving through the world with women.

Izzy Stokes

I didn’t fall in love until I realized that queerness was an option. My queer friends have helped me see so much more than I grew up seeing. I’m so proud of us, and I’m so grateful for my lesbian community.

Nandika Chatterjee

When I met my fiancée is when I started to feel most like myself. That meant loving myself for who I am and embracing my identity as a lesbian. I felt free in a way I have never before. That’s the long and short of it.

Liz Lucking

The love and joy of being a lesbian is getting to live the life I dreamed of but never thought I would get to have!

Reflections

As I read these beautiful entries, it’s not lost on me that we’re still living in a world where lesbians are more likely to struggle with maternity problems, fetishization, and compulsory heterosexuality — not to mention the intersectional pressures of racism from both inside and outside the queer community. That’s part of why, according to a 2024 survey, 22 percent of LGBTQ women have attempted suicide, and 66 percent have sought treatment for trauma.

So if you are a lesbian who isn’t out or doesn’t feel safe, I hope you read this and can glean some hope from these messages. So when you look in the mirror, you know that it’s okay to release the weight — which can feel so heavy — of a heteronormative world.

We still have a long fight until all lesbians can feel safe to be themselves, but this is a community that does not back away from the tough, from the joy, from being loud and from all the other things that it takes to start a small revolution.

Hell yeah, lesbians! Here’s to you.

*I am signing off with my cat on my lap and a pride flag over my head <3.