Advocacy groups have joined the relief efforts in Venezuela after two back-to-back earthquakes devastated large swaths of the country on June 24.

The magnitude 7.2 and 7.5 earthquakes caused widespread damage in Caracas, the Venezuelan capital, and elsewhere in the country.

Officials in the South American country say the earthquakes killed more than 4,500 people and left more than 16,000 others injured. La Guaira state on Venezuela’s Caribbean coast in which the country’s main international airport is located is one of the hardest hit areas.

Yonatan Matheus, a Venezuelan LGBTQ+ rights activist who currently lives in the U.S., was born and raised in La Guaira.

He wrote on his website that relatives and close friends who still live in the state have lost their homes. Matheus in his post that the Los Angeles Blade published on Monday also said the earthquakes killed two gay men he knew.

“Their names reminded me that behind every statistic lie stories, personal bonds, and life plans,” he wrote. “They also made me think of all those people whose lives and deaths are unlikely to make headlines — especially those who lived on the margins for years, with little visibility and without full recognition of their dignity.”

“They reminded me that emergencies never affect everyone equally,” added Matheus. “Those already facing greater vulnerability often bear an even heavier burden during the recovery process.”

The earthquakes struck less than six months after American forces seized then-Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, at their home in Caracas during an overnight operation.

Maduro and Flores on Jan. 5 pleaded not guilty to federal drug charges in New York. The Venezuelan National Assembly the day before swore in Delcy Rodríguez, who was Maduro’s vice president, as the country’s acting president.

Hugo Chávez died in 2013, and Maduro succeeded him as Venezuela’s president. Subsequent economic and political crises prompted millions of Venezuelans to leave the country.

Rodríguez has faced criticism over the Venezuelan government’s response to the earthquakes.

AIDS Healthcare Foundation Latin America Bureau Chief Patricia Campos in a message she sent to Michael Weinstein, the group’s president, on June 29 described the government’s response as “uncoordinated, poor, and delayed, influenced by political interests.”

“The number of fatalities continues to rise, and many shelters have been set up in public spaces to help those in need,” said Campos. “Hospitals and morgues are working tirelessly beyond their capacity, demonstrating the community’s resilience. Fortunately, international rescue teams have arrived, offering much-needed assistance to recover those still trapped in the debris.”

AHF has clinics in Cúcuta, a Colombian city that is a few miles from the country’s border with Venezuela, and elsewhere in Colombia.

Campos told Weinstein that AHF Colombia “has been communicating with” more than half of the 1,080 “of our patients in care who live in Venezuela.” Campos also noted AHF relief supplies arrived in Venezuela with the 11/13 Foundation, another NGO, and they had been distributed.

New York-based AID FOR AIDS International, an HIV/AIDS service organization that works in Venezuela, has launched an earthquake relief fund.

The Venezuela Earthquake Emergency Relief Fund has thus far raised $55,893.39. It hopes to raise $250,000.

“All donations will go directly to our network of local partners on the ground in Venezuela, who are working to assess the most urgent needs and provide emergency support to affected communities — including but not limited to medicines, food, water, and shelter,” says AID FOR AIDS International.

The group adds “the scale of destruction is the greatest challenge.”

“La Guaira has been catastrophically damaged, and Caracas continues to deteriorate — with looting, businesses closing due to insecurity, widespread power outages, and hospitals overwhelmed with injured patients but critically lacking supplies,” it says. “Reaching affected communities quickly and safely is not easy under these conditions.”

“Our challenge is immediacy,” added AID FOR AIDS International, which is working with its colleagues in Venezuela and students at the country’s Universidad Central de Venezuela who are part of the relief efforts. “Through the strategic partnerships we have already established with trusted organizations on the ground in Venezuela, we are positioned to mobilize resources directly and efficiently, ensuring that every dollar reaches the families in the affected areas.”

Other groups, such as Venezolanos en Barranquilla, which is based in the Colombian city of Barranquilla, have also joined the relief effort.

Barranquilla Vice President Juan Carlos Viloria in an interview with the Washington Post accused the Venezuelan government of “systematic negligence” by restricting “access to the most affected zones.” Venezolanos en Barranquilla nevertheless continues to work with the Catholic Church and other NGOs to mobilize rescue workers and to facilitate the distribution of food, water, generators, and other items in La Guaira and Caracas.

“Despite this situation, we are continuing to do everything for our people,” Viloria told the Blade last week.

El 24 de junio de 2026, dos terremotos sacudieron Venezuela y alteraron la vida de miles de personas en cuestión de segundos. Para gran parte del mundo fue una noticia que ocupó titulares durante algunos días. Para quienes nacimos allí, el tiempo pareció detenerse. Antes de pensar en la magnitud del sismo o en el número de viviendas afectadas, hubo una pregunta que desplazó cualquier otra: ¿estarán bien quienes amo?

Los desastres naturales no solo transforman los territorios; también modifican la manera en que quienes vivimos en el exilio nos relacionamos con el lugar al que seguimos llamando hogar. La distancia no reduce el dolor ni la preocupación por quienes permanecen allí. Cada llamada sin responder, cada fotografía y cada mensaje recuerdan que existen vínculos que sobreviven a las fronteras, al tiempo y a la propia migración.

Lo primero que hice fue llamar a mi familia en La Guaira. Durante esos minutos comprendí, una vez más, que también existen terremotos que se sienten desde el exilio. La incertidumbre crece con cada llamada que no entra y con cada mensaje que permanece sin respuesta.

Cuando finalmente logré comunicarme, confirmé que familiares y personas cercanas habían perdido sus hogares, que distintas zonas de La Guaira enfrentaban graves afectaciones y que comunidades como Carayaca, El Junko y otros sectores del oeste del estado también sufrían las consecuencias de los terremotos. Aunque algunas de estas localidades registraron daños estructurales de menor magnitud que las zonas más devastadas, sus habitantes también vieron alterada su vida cotidiana por la interrupción de servicios, las dificultades de acceso y la profunda interdependencia social, económica y comunitaria que caracteriza a La Guaira.

Algunos miembros de mi comunidad también habían fallecido. Entre ellos estaban dos hombres gays a quienes conocía. Sus nombres me recordaron que detrás de cada cifra existen historias, afectos y proyectos de vida. También me hicieron pensar en todas aquellas personas cuyas vidas y muertes difícilmente ocuparán un titular, especialmente quienes durante años vivieron en los márgenes, con escasa visibilidad y sin el pleno reconocimiento de su dignidad. Me recordaron, además, que las emergencias nunca afectan a todas las personas por igual y que quienes ya enfrentaban mayores condiciones de vulnerabilidad suelen soportar una carga aún más pesada durante la recuperación. 

El país del que uno sale nunca desaparece

Nací y crecí en La Guaira. Allí permanecen buena parte de mi historia, mi familia, mis amistades y una comunidad que sigue formando parte de quien soy. Hace diez años tuve que salir de Venezuela y solicitar asilo en Estados Unidos como consecuencia de la persecución que enfrenté por ser un hombre gay y defensor de derechos humanos. Con el tiempo comprendí que el exilio no consiste únicamente en cambiar de país. También significa aprender a vivir con la certeza de que una parte de nosotros permanecerá siempre en el lugar del que tuvimos que partir.

Cada celebración familiar, cada crisis y cada tragedia confirman que seguimos perteneciendo a ese territorio. Las personas refugiadas y migrantes no dejamos de vivir las emergencias de nuestros países de origen; simplemente las vivimos de otra manera. Mientras otras personas pueden desplazarse para abrazar a sus familias o participar directamente en las labores de ayuda, quienes estamos lejos intentamos acompañar desde la incertidumbre, con la impotencia de saber que el corazón permanece donde el cuerpo ya no puede estar.

Quizá esa sea una de las dimensiones menos visibles del desplazamiento forzado. Vivimos las tragedias de nuestro país a la distancia, con menos posibilidades de actuar físicamente, pero con el mismo dolor y con un profundo sentido de responsabilidad hacia las personas y los lugares que siguen formando parte de nuestra historia.

Cuando una casa representa toda una vida

Después de una emergencia suele repetirse una frase bien intencionada: “Lo importante es que todos están vivos; lo material se recupera.” Aunque busca transmitir esperanza, también puede invisibilizar una realidad profundamente humana. En Venezuela, una vivienda rara vez representa únicamente una construcción. Es el resultado de años de trabajo, sacrificios compartidos y sueños familiares. En sus paredes también habitan recuerdos, fotografías, documentos y la memoria de quienes la construyeron.

Cuando un terremoto destruye un hogar, también altera el proyecto de vida de una familia. Por eso no basta con volver a levantar edificios. Es necesario crear las condiciones para que las personas recuperen estabilidad, seguridad y la posibilidad de imaginar nuevamente un futuro. Como trabajador social, estoy convencido de que los territorios no vuelven a ponerse de pie únicamente con cemento. También necesitan confianza, organización, apoyo mutuo y espacios donde las personas puedan elaborar el duelo y fortalecer nuevamente sus redes de apoyo.

Ese proceso tampoco ocurre en igualdad de condiciones para todas las personas. Los desastres suelen profundizar desigualdades que ya existían antes de la emergencia. Las personas adultas mayores, la niñez, las personas con discapacidad, quienes viven con enfermedades crónicas o con VIH y muchas personas LGBTQ+, especialmente aquellas que enfrentan pobreza, discriminación o redes de apoyo limitadas, suelen encontrar mayores obstáculos para acceder a servicios, restablecer sus medios de vida o volver a sentirse seguras. Una respuesta verdaderamente humanitaria no consiste únicamente en llegar primero; consiste en asegurar que nadie quede atrás cuando comienza el largo camino para reconstruir su vida. 

Cuando la emergencia deja de ser noticia

Las primeras horas después de un desastre suelen despertar lo mejor de una sociedad. Vecinas y vecinos organizan rescates, personas voluntarias distribuyen alimentos, equipos de salud trabajan sin descanso y miles de ciudadanos, dentro y fuera del país, buscan la manera de ayudar. Esa movilización espontánea representa uno de los recursos más valiosos frente a cualquier crisis y demuestra que, incluso en contextos de profunda polarización, la vida humana sigue siendo capaz de convocar encuentros.

Sin embargo, para quienes sobrevivieron, el verdadero desafío apenas comienza cuando la emergencia deja de ocupar los titulares. Mientras los medios dirigen su atención hacia otras noticias y las donaciones disminuyen, miles de familias siguen intentando recuperar sus hogares, restablecer sus medios de vida y reorganizar una cotidianidad profundamente alterada. La crisis termina mucho antes para la opinión pública que para quienes continúan enfrentando sus consecuencias.

En la acción humanitaria suele describirse un fenómeno conocido como fatiga de la compasión. En términos generales, hace referencia a la disminución progresiva de la atención pública y de parte de la movilización solidaria conforme una crisis deja de ocupar el centro de la conversación. No significa que desaparezca la voluntad de ayudar, sino que nuevas urgencias desplazan rápidamente a las anteriores. El riesgo es que los territorios afectados queden solos precisamente cuando enfrentan la etapa más compleja de volver a levantarse.

Las principales organizaciones humanitarias recuerdan que reparar edificios constituye sólo una parte del proceso. También es indispensable fortalecer la salud mental, ofrecer apoyo psicosocial, recuperar el tejido comunitario y garantizar que la población participe activamente en las decisiones sobre su propio futuro. Una vivienda puede reconstruirse en algunos meses; recuperar la sensación de seguridad, la confianza o el sentido de pertenencia suele requerir mucho más tiempo.

Esta realidad resulta especialmente importante para quienes ya enfrentan condiciones de vulnerabilidad antes del terremoto. Las personas adultas mayores, la niñez, las personas con discapacidad, quienes viven con VIH y muchas personas LGBTQ+ suelen encontrar mayores barreras para acceder a servicios, mantener sus tratamientos, recuperar sus ingresos o reconstruir sus redes de apoyo. Las emergencias no crean esas desigualdades, pero con frecuencia las hacen más visibles y profundas. Por eso, una recuperación verdaderamente sostenible no consiste únicamente en volver al punto donde estábamos antes del desastre, sino en aprovechar ese proceso para reducir brechas históricas y fortalecer la inclusión.

Como trabajador social, prefiero hablar de una resiliencia consciente. No de una resiliencia que exige fortaleza permanente o invita a ocultar el dolor bajo la idea de que “hay que seguir adelante”, sino de aquella que reconoce las pérdidas, entiende que el duelo necesita tiempo y acepta que pedir ayuda también forma parte del camino. Ninguna comunidad debería sentirse obligada a reconstruirse sola, ni ninguna persona a demostrar que ya superó una tragedia antes de estar preparada para hacerlo.

Permanecer también es una forma de ayudar

El exilio me impidió estar físicamente en La Guaira durante los días posteriores a los terremotos, pero no me impidió asumir la responsabilidad de acompañar desde donde hoy me encuentro. Durante esas semanas utilicé mis plataformas para verificar información antes de compartirla, visibilizar localidades que históricamente han recibido menor atención —como Carayaca, El Junko y otros sectores del oeste del estado— y promover mensajes centrados en las necesidades de la población afectada.

Ese compromiso también dio origen a la serie documental La Guaira: Antes y Después, un esfuerzo por documentar cómo cambiaron distintos espacios y contribuir a que no desaparezcan de la memoria colectiva cuando termine la cobertura periodística. Más que registrar la destrucción, busca recordar que detrás de cada fotografía existen familias que seguirán necesitando apoyo mucho después de que las cámaras se hayan ido.

Creo profundamente que comunicar con responsabilidad también es una forma de acción humanitaria. Verificar antes de publicar, evitar la desinformación y mantener visibles a los territorios históricamente olvidados constituye una manera concreta de acompañar el proceso de recuperación y fortalecer el compromiso colectivo desde la distancia.

La solidaridad que decide quedarse

Los terremotos del 24 de junio de 2026 dejarán cicatrices visibles en edificios, carreteras y viviendas. Otras permanecerán en silencio, acompañando a familias que deberán reconstruir no solo sus hogares, sino también su sensación de seguridad, sus proyectos de vida y la confianza en el futuro.

Como venezolano, guaireño, refugiado y defensor de derechos humanos, esta experiencia reforzó una convicción que ha guiado buena parte de mi trabajo: las personas deben permanecer en el centro de cualquier respuesta humanitaria. Ninguna diferencia política, institucional o ideológica debería ser más importante que proteger la vida, aliviar el sufrimiento y garantizar que quienes enfrentan mayores condiciones de vulnerabilidad reciban el acompañamiento que necesitan para volver a empezar con dignidad.

Los terremotos dejan de sentirse cuando la tierra deja de temblar. El olvido comienza cuando dejamos de mirar. Entre una cosa y otra existe un largo camino que exige memoria, compromiso sostenido y la decisión colectiva de no abandonar a quienes siguen intentando levantarse cuando el resto del mundo ya ha seguido adelante. Porque una sociedad no termina de recuperarse cuando reconstruye sus edificios; lo hace cuando todas las personas tienen la oportunidad de volver a vivir con seguridad, esperanza y la certeza de que nadie quedó atrás.

Yonatan Matheus (He/Him/Él) es defensor de derechos humanos LGBTQ+ y trabajador social y activista. Trabaja en la intersección entre Migración, Justicia Social y respuesta al VIH.

Este comentario salió en el sitio web de Yonatan el 6 de julio.

More than 100,000 people participated in the 26th Pride March in Santiago, Chile, one of the largest demonstrations by the LGBTQ+ movement in the South American country, on June 27. 

The event, organized by the Movement for Homosexual Integration and Liberation and Fundación Iguales, proceeded along the Alameda, the capital’s main avenue, with flags, signs, and slogans in support of equality, against a backdrop of concern among organizations regarding the direction of President José Antonio Kast’s administration.

The march was preceded by speeches in Plaza Baquedano and included the participation of human rights organizations, families, activists, victims of discrimination, and representatives from various embassies. This year, the parade was also led by LGBTQ+ seniors from the group Años Rosados, part of Acción Gay, as a gesture of historical remembrance for those who lived through decades when publicly expressing one’s sexual orientation or gender identity could mean persecution, imprisonment, or social exclusion.

“This march demonstrates that the fight for equality is still alive and will not be pushed back into the closet,” said Movilh spokesperson Javiera Zúñiga. “We march with remembrance, with pride, and with the conviction that Chile cannot roll back the rights we have won.” 

During the event, the organizations called upon the Chilean government to move forward with a comprehensive reform of the Zamudio Law — the anti-discrimination law in effect since 2012 — as well as to introduce penalties for hate speech and strengthen protections for LGBTQ+ people in education, health care, the workplace, and public spaces.

Movilh founder Rolando Jiménez noted that Chile between 1991 and 2022 made significant strides toward equality and nondiscrimination. He warned, however, that this progress has begun to lose momentum in recent years and that, under the current administration, the signs have become increasingly concerning.

“For decades, Chile forged a path of progress, with laws and public policies that expanded rights. Today we are marching because there are attacks aimed at weakening those protections and preventing further progress,” Jiménez stated.

The march took place place in a country that, in recent years, has established a robust legal framework for sexual and gender diversity. Chile has had a Civil Union Agreement since 2015, a transgender rights law since 2018, and marriage equality since 2022. For these organizations, this legal framework explains why recent decisions by the executive branch and Congress are viewed as signs of regression, not merely as administrative debates.

One of the main points of concern arose in March, when the Kast administration shortly after the new president took office decided not to endorse an Organization of American States’ LGBTQ+ rights declaration. The decision marked a departure from the stance taken by previous administrations and was interpreted by civil society organizations as a sign of a weakening of Chile’s foreign policy on human rights.

The Foreign Affairs Ministry, however, has maintained that Chile remains committed to promoting and protecting human rights without discrimination, and that the decision stemmed from differences regarding the document’s wording. That explanation has not fully dispelled the doubts of these organizations, which, during the march, demanded that the executive branch take a clear and consistent public stance.

One hundred days into the Kast administration, Fundación Iguales also presented the findings of its LGBTQ+ Radar, an ongoing monitoring initiative of government, legislative, and administrative measures that impact the rights of LGBTQ+ people in Chile. 

According to the organization, of the nine measures recorded so far, five have been rated as unfavorable, three remain under evaluation, and only one has been considered favorable.

Among the adverse measures, Fundación Iguales identifies actions that, in its view, involve hostility, restriction, or elimination of previously existing public policies or safeguards. In this category, it includes the repeal of Circular 781, which protected LGBTQ+ students in educational institutions; Chile’s decision to abstain from the OAS LGBTQ+ declaration; the elimination of the section on diversity from the national household survey; the discontinuation of the inclusion training program for public officials; and alignment with the U.S. to restrict the definition of gender at the U.N.

The monitoring also includes three measures currently under evaluation whose final impact has not yet been determined: the National Human Rights Plan, the regulations on access to justice, and the regulations for the Adoption Law. In contrast, the only favorable measure identified so far is the enactment of the School Coexistence Law, which the foundation considers an action that expands or protects rights.

Fundación Iguales states that the LGBTQ+ Radar is updated in real time and that each measure includes its source, date, and the responsible institution. For the organization, the assessment of Kast’s first 100 days confirms that the signals from the executive branch are not isolated incidents but part of a pattern that must be monitored by civil society and the international community.

Another controversial move took place in the education sector. The Superintendency of Education repealed circulars related to school coexistence and internal regulations, including provisions addressing gender identity and nondiscrimination. However, a few days before the march, the Comptroller General’s Office upheld the legality of Circular 812, which protects the rights of trans students in the school system, rejecting the attempt to declare that regulation illegal.

For Fundación Iguales, this ruling was a significant signal amid an adverse political climate. 

“The fact that organized groups have tried to eliminate this circular speaks volumes about the times we are living in. We celebrate that the Comptroller’s Office has clarified the matter, and we will remain vigilant to prevent setbacks,” said María José Cumplido, the organization’s executive director.

The debate also reached Congress. 

The Chamber of Deputies amid Pride month approved a draft resolution calling on Kast to eliminate the use of inclusive language in public services. The initiative, backed by right-wing sectors, called for the repeal of administrative acts promoting these forms of communication and for a ban on what it defined as “grammatical distortions” based on gender, ethnicity, or other identity classifications.

For LGBTQ+ organizations, the measure is ideological in nature and fails to recognize that inclusive language has not been a widespread imposition, but rather a tool used in certain contexts to name historically excluded groups. At the march, this point was one of the most frequently cited examples of the new political climate that has taken hold under the Kast administration.

Despite this situation, the organizations also highlighted a positive institutional development: Senate President Paulina Núñez of Renovación Nacional, a more moderate right-wing ruling party, pledged in May to push for reform of the Zamudio Law and to serve as a bridge with the executive branch to advance the modernization of anti-discrimination legislation. The reform is currently stalled in Congress, despite years of criticism from human rights organizations regarding its limited effectiveness.

“The commitment to move forward with reforming the Zamudio Law is good news, because Chile needs effective anti-discrimination legislation, with real tools to protect victims and combat hate speech,” Movilh representatives stated.

The march culminated with a cultural event in Plaza Los Héroes, but the political message was clear from the start: the organizations not only celebrated the progress made but also warned that these rights require constant defense.

For the organizing groups, the country continues to have a strong legal foundation regarding sexual and gender diversity, but it faces a period of uncertainty under a conservative government that, in its first months, has sent mixed signals about the continuity of those commitments.

Chile already has legislation in place regarding gender identity, civil unions, and marriage equality. For this reason, the organizations believe that the setbacks they have observed are not merely symbolic but could undermine the safeguards that form part of the democratic framework the country has built over the past decades.

Abelardo de la Espriella on Sunday narrowly defeated Iván Cepeda in the second round of Colombia’s presidential election.

De la Espriella, a far-right lawyer who has praised U.S. President Donald Trump and Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele, beat Sen. Iván Cepeda, a member of outgoing President Gustavo Petro’s Historic Pact party, by a 49.7-48.7 percent margin. De la Espriella will take office on Aug. 7.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio on Sunday spoke with De la Espriella, who has pledged to end so-called “gender ideology” in Colombia, and congratulated him on his victory.

“This result reflects the will of the Colombian people and their commitment to democracy,” said State Department spokesperson Tommy Piggott in a statement. “The Trump administration looks forward to working closely with his incoming administration to advance our bilateral and regional security cooperation, end illegal immigration to the United States, and strengthen the economic ties between our two countries. Through our close bilateral cooperation, and under the leadership of President-elect De la Espriella, Colombia’s best days are ahead.”   

The election’s first round took place on June 1.

Former Bogotá Mayor Claudia López, a centrist who ran as an independent, finished fifth. She would have become Colombia’s first female and first lesbian president if she had won the election.

De la Espriella and Cepeda faced off in the runoff because neither received a majority of votes in the first round.

Former Bogotá Mayor Claudia López on Sunday finished fifth in the first round of Colombia’s presidential election.

López, a centrist who ran as an independent, received 225,517 votes. This figure is .95 percent of the total votes cast.

López was the Colombian capital’s mayor from 2020-2023. She was a member of the Colombian Senate from 2014-2018. López, whose wife is outgoing Colombian Sen. Angélica Lozano, would have become the country’s first female and first lesbian president if she would have won the election.

The LGBTQ+ Victory Institute honored López in D.C. in 2024.

“We need to listen to each other again, we need to have a coffee with each other again, we need to touch each other’s skin,” she told the Los Angeles Blade during an interview. She hadn’t yet declared her candidacy, and did not specifically discuss her plans to run.

Runoff to take place June 21

Abrelardo de la Espriella, a far-right lawyer who has praised U.S. President Donald Trump and Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele, on Sunday finished first with 43.74 percent of the vote. Senator Iván Cepeda, a member of outgoing President Gustavo Petro’s Historic Pact party, came in second with 40.9 percent of the vote.

Neither men received a majority of votes. A runoff between them will take place on June 21.

Erika Hilton, the first Black transgender woman elected to the Brazilian Congress, in April 2025 prepared to speak at the annual Brazil Conference at Harvard University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge, Mass.

As part of her official diplomatic duties, Hilton required a diplomatic visa to enter the U.S. However, the U.S. Embassy in Brasília issued the document with a glaring discrepancy: the congresswoman’s gender was listed as “male,” directly contradicting her official Brazilian identification, which legally recognizes her gender as “female.”

Hilton in response canceled her participation in the conference and filed a formal report with the United Nations, characterizing the incident as a violation of the Brazilian state’s diplomatic prerogatives and an act of institutional transphobia. The Brazilian Foreign Ministry last month issued a new diplomatic passport to the congresswoman in an act of symbolic reparation, a move intended to reaffirm her official status and legal identity in the wake of the U.S. embassy’s actions.

Despite the restorative gesture from the Brazilian government, Hilton told the Washington Blade that she has no intention of entering the U.S. in the near future — at least not while President Donald Trump remains in the White House. 

“I am afraid of what might happen to someone like me under an administration like Donald Trump’s,” Hilton said. “It is an authoritarian, anti-democratic government that has no respect for international law.”

“We’ve seen, for example, how ICE (U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement) acted with extreme violence against people who held tourist visas and were simply visiting the country,” she added. “There is a deep-seated fear of how people are treated by immigration authorities and law enforcement. All of this is terrifying, and it has convinced me that I should not set foot in the United States as long as a fascist government is in power.”

While her travel to the U.S. remains on hold, the congresswoman has been exceptionally active in Brazil. 

Hilton last month made history once again by becoming the first trans woman elected to chair the Chamber of Deputies’ Commission on the Defense of Women’s Rights. This appointment marks the first time a trans person has led a standing committee in the Brazilian Congress — the latest milestone in a career defined by its pioneering spirit.

“This is a milestone in my story. It’s a milestone for that dreamy young girl who, at 14, was forced into sex work on a street corner to survive, and who today returns to make peace with her past. But even from where I stand now, I am looking back and pointing toward those who are still out there on those street corners, to remind them: we are capable of so much more. We are capable of building something far greater than the limited spaces that hatred and discrimination have reserved for us,” she told the Blade.

Erika Hilton speaks at a rally for now President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva in São Paulo on Oct. 5, 2022. She was elected to the Brazilian Congress two days earlier. (Washington Blade video by Michael K. Lavers)

Unlike the Congressional Caucus for Women’s Issues in the U.S., which functions primarily as a platform for advocacy and lobbying, Brazil’s Commission on the Defense of Women’s Rights wields significant institutional power. Within the Brazilian legislative system, this body holds “conclusive authority,” a specialized power that allows it to bypass the general floor of the Chamber of Deputies. If the commission approves a bill, it can be sent directly to the Senate for a vote, bypassing a full house plenary session.

Beyond this autonomy, the commission possesses what is effectively a pocket veto: if it rejects a proposal on constitutional grounds or deems it detrimental to women’s protections, the bill is shelved immediately. This powerful committee has been the primary vehicle for landmark legislation, including the Equal Pay Act (Law 14,611/23) and critical laws targeting the political harassment of women.

Defining womanhood beyond biology

Hilton emphasizes that her election as chair of the Women’s Rights Commission was no easy feat, but a grueling struggle. The battle began within her own party, as she worked to convince colleagues that she was not only a viable candidate but an essential one.

The hostility intensified significantly following her nomination. 

Far-right conservative sectors orchestrated what the congresswoman denounced as a systematic, sponsored wave of attacks that transcended social media, spilling into the very halls of Congress. The rhetoric her opponents used leaned heavily on biological determinism — a strategy that attempts to reduce womanhood to reproductive functions or genetic characteristics.

Hilton’s election on March 11 laid bare a deeply fractured Congress. 

With 11 votes in her favor and 10 lawmakers casting blank ballots, the result served as an explicit form of protest. In the context of these internal elections, the blank votes did not signal indecision; rather, they represented a calculated attempt by the opposition to strip the incoming chair of her political legitimacy. It was a clear warning that Hilton will face fierce institutional resistance throughout her tenure — a reality that has already manifested during her first weeks at the helm of the commission.

Hilton in her inaugural address promised an inclusive leadership. 

“Here we will address the issues facing poor women, Black women, trans women, cis women, mothers, and breastfeeding women. All of them, without exception,” she said.

However, the most resonant moment of her speech was her historic tribute to Sojourner Truth, the Black abolitionist and human rights activist who, in 1851, delivered the iconic “Ain’t I a Woman?” speech at a women’s rights convention in the U.S. Paraphrasing Truth, Hilton argues that contemporary transphobia is deeply rooted in 19th century racism.

“Truth was a cisgender woman and a mother, but in that context, her biology did not grant her legitimacy or the right to challenge the status quo of womanhood because of her race. If we broaden our perspective, we must recall the eugenicist pseudo-science that deemed Black people inferior based on skull measurements, and the brutal gynecological experiments performed on enslaved women. Those women were not considered ‘women’ by the society of that era either,” Hilton told the Blade, explaining the historical framework behind her address.

“We, as trans women and travestis, are the targets of this historical moment,” she added. “I invoked Truth’s words to remind everyone that we are all victims of the same systemic oppression and the same denial of our right to our own identity — this did not start with us. Yesterday, she was targeted because of the color of her skin; today, I am targeted because of my body’s anatomy.”

Hilton concluded her inaugural address by reaffirming that her chairmanship will bring visibility to the identities that the commission has historically neglected. She emphasized that the trans struggle is a matter of survival in a country that leads the world in rates of violence against this community.

“We no longer accept being rendered invisible; we no longer accept having our identities violated. We refuse to live in a country that leads the world in killing us, by shooting us in the face, ripping out our hearts, and dragging us through the streets,” she declared.

Since Hilton became chair, committee sessions have been marked by an atmosphere of turmoil and legislative gridlock — a dire situation for a country that, over the past year, has set records for femicides. In Brazil, femicide is a specific legal classification for the murder of women motivated by gender, designed to ensure harsher criminal penalties. 

Opposition lawmakers, who rarely attended commission sessions before Hilton’s election, have begun showing up en masse to coordinate attacks against her, prioritizing obstructionism over the urgent need to address gender-based violence.

Tensions reached a fever pitch on April 8 when right-wing Congresswoman Rosana Valle threatened Hilton by invoking one of the country’s most significant legal provisions: the Maria da Penha Law. Recognized by the United Nations as one of the most progressive pieces of legislation in the world, the statute was designed specifically to protect women from domestic and family violence. 

In a move that Hilton described as “a mockery,” Valle stated that she would invoke the law against the committee chair herself if Hilton were ever to confront her, claiming that her colleague possessed “the strength of a man.”

“At the end of the day, their goal is to prevent me from delivering results. They work to stall the agenda so they can later claim, ‘Look, she didn’t do anything for women; she didn’t discuss anything relevant.’ It is not a lack of will on my part; it is a coordinated effort to block progress. But I am already developing strategies to overcome this roadblock. We are going to move forward and get the projects that really matter off the ground,” Hilton told the Blade.

The MAGA playbook in Brazil

Transphobia is nothing new in Brazil. 

For years, the country has consistently ranked as the deadliest in the world for trans people; in 2024, according to the National Association of Travestis and Transsexuals (ANTRA), 122 fatalities were recorded. However, the vitriol appearing on social media following Hilton’s election as chair of the women’s commission is strikingly familiar. The arguments and tactics being deployed in Brazil are mirror images of the far-right playbook currently being used in the U.S.

Brazilian lawmakers have deliberately adopted strategies from the “culture wars” that fuel the MAGA movement. This includes stoking moral panic over bathroom access, pathologizing gender identities, and attempting to bar transgender women from competitive sports.

For Hilton, Trump is the catalyst. 

“When a government with the reach and power of the United States uses state institutions to roll back rights, it creates a ripple effect that fuels violence worldwide. It feels as if our historic achievements are being systematically dismantled,” said Hilton.

“Since the day after the inauguration, the Trump administration has signed executive orders denying basic rights and issued official statements that dehumanize the transgender community, branding us as ‘enemies of society,’” she added. “The U.S. government legitimizes, incites, and encourages the hatred directed at a group that is already marginalized. In doing so, it fuels that hatred further, as it takes such rhetoric out of the shadows of anonymity and places it in the mouth of the president of a global superpower.”

Preserving hard-won rights

Brazilians in October will head to the polls for general elections, a high-stakes cycle that will decide the presidency and the makeup of the legislature. 

Hilton predicts an election season marked by escalating violence and targeted attacks against transgender people. She also notes the current global climate demands an even greater mobilization to defend the hard-won rights secured by the LGBTQ community.

“The situation is too volatile and turbulent for us to find even a glimmer of opportunity to establish new rights,” Hilton told the Blade. “For now, we must focus on safeguarding our existing protections so that, further down the road, we have the chance to secure new victories. History is cyclical. First comes a great wave of violence, repression, and attack. But following that, come the waves of victory.”

Hilton, meanwhile, will remain on the front lines of this battlefield, stepping into a spotlight that she knows brings less glory than it does pain and violence. But that does not seem to weigh on her. 

“In a sense, life’s cruelty has been kind to me,” Hilton reflects. “By forcing me to experience that cruelty when I was still a child, it was kind enough to teach me how to survive it. I am immune now, and therefore, I am prepared to face these obstacles.”

BOGOTÁ, Colombia — A gay Venezuelan man who has lived in Colombia since 2018 says he feels uncertain about his homeland’s future after the U.S. seized the now former Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro.

“On one hand I can feel happy, but on the other hand I feel very concerned,” Heberth Aguirre told the Washington Blade on Tuesday during an interview at a shopping mall in Bogotá, the Colombian capital.

Aguirre, 35, is from Maracaibo, Venezuela’s second-largest city that is the heart of the country’s oil industry.

He developed cultural and art initiatives for the Zulia State government.

“Little by little, I suddenly became involved in politics because, in a way, you had to be involved,” recalled Aguirre. “It was necessary to be involved because the regime often said so.”

“I basically felt like I was working for the citizens, but with this deeply ingrained rule we had to be on their side, on the side of the Maduro and (former President Hugo) Chávez regime,” he added.

Maduro in 2013 became Venezuela’s president after Chávez died.

“There are things I don’t support about the regime,” Aguirre told the Blade. “There are other things that were nice in theory, but it turned out that they didn’t work when we put them into practice.”

Aguirre noted the Maduro government implemented “a lot of laws.” He also said he and other LGBTQ Venezuelans didn’t “have any kind of guarantee for our lives in general.”

“That also exposed you in a way,” said Aguirre. “You felt somewhat protected by working with them (the government), but it wasn’t entirely true.”

Aguirre, 35, studied graphic design at the University of Zulia in Maracaibo. He said he eventually withdrew after soldiers, members of Venezuela’s Bolivarian National Guard, and police officers opened fire on students.

“That happened many times, to the point where I said I couldn’t keep risking my life,” Aguirre told the Blade. “It hurt me to see what was happening, and it hurt me to have lost my place at the university.”

Venezuela’s economic crisis and increased insecurity prompted Aguirre to leave the country in 2018. He entered Colombia at the Simón Bolívar Bridge near the city of Cúcuta in the country’s Norte de Santander Province.

“If you thought differently, they (the Venezuelan government) would come after you or make you disappear, and nobody would do anything about it,” said Aguirre in response to the Blade’s question about why he left Venezuela.

Aguirre spoke with the Blade three days after American forces seized Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, at their home in Caracas, the Venezuelan capital, during an overnight operation.

The Venezuelan National Assembly on Sunday swore in Delcy Rodríguez, who was Maduro’s vice president, as the country’s acting president. Maduro and Flores on Monday pleaded not guilty to federal drug charges in New York.

President Donald Trump on Tuesday in a Truth Social post said Venezuela’s interim authorities “will be turning over between 30 and 50 million barrels of high quality, sanctioned oil, to the United States of America.”

“This oil will be sold at its market price, and that money will be controlled by me, as president of the United States of America, to ensure it is used to benefit the people of Venezuela and the United States,” wrote Trump.

Trump on Sunday suggested the U.S. will target Colombian President Gustavo, a former Bogotá mayor and senator who was once a member of the M-19 guerrilla movement that disbanded in the 1990s.

Petro has urged Colombians to take to the streets on Wednesday and “defend national sovereignty.” Claudia López, a former senator who would become the country’s first female and first lesbian president if she wins Colombia’s presidential election that will take place later this year, is among those who criticized Trump’s comments.

“Let’s be clear: Trump doesn’t care about the humanitarian aspect,” said Aguirre when the Blade asked him about Trump. “We can’t portray him as Venezuela’s savior.”

Meanwhile, Aguirre said his relatives in Maracaibo remain afraid of what will happen in the wake of Maduro’s ouster.

“My family is honestly keeping quiet,” he said. “They don’t post anything online. They don’t go out to participate in marches or celebrations.”

“Imagine them being at the epicenter, in the eye of the hurricane,” added Aguirre. “They are right in the middle of all the problems, so it’s perfectly understandable that they don’t want to say anything.”

‘I never in my life thought I would have to emigrate’

Aguirre has built a new life in Bogotá.

He founded Mesa Distrital LGBTIQ+ de Jóvenes y Estudiantes, a group that works with migrants from Venezuela and other countries and internally placed Colombians, during the COVID-19 pandemic. Aguirre told the Blade he launched the group “with the need to contribute to the general population, not just in Colombia.”

Aguirre met his husband, an American from California, at a Bogotá church in December 2020 during a Christmas event that SDA Kinship Colombia, an LGBTQ group, organized. A Utah judge virtually officiated their wedding on July 12, 2024.

“I love Colombia, I love Bogotá,” said Aguirre. “I love everything I’ve experienced because I feel it has helped me grow.”

He once again stressed he does not know what a post-Maduro Venezuela will look like.

“As a Venezuelan, I experienced the wonders of that country,” said Aguirre. “I never in my life thought I would have to emigrate.”

The Colombian government’s Permiso por Protección Temporal program allows Aguirre and other Venezuelans who have sought refuge in Colombia to live in the country for up to 10 years. Aguirre reiterated his love for Colombia, but he told the Blade that he would like to return to Venezuela and help rebuild the country.

“I wish this would be over in five years, that we could return to our country, that we could go back and even return with more skills acquired abroad,” Aguirre told the Blade. “Many of us received training. Many of us studied a lot. We connected with organizations that formed networks, which enriched us as individuals and as professionals.”

“Returning would be wonderful,” he added. “What we’ve built abroad will almost certainly serve to enrich the country.”

OrgulloLGBT.co es el socio mediático del Los Angeles Blade en Colombia. Esta nota salió en su sitio web.

La comunidad LGBTQ+ en Colombia está de luto tras conocerse el fallecimiento de Victoria Strauss, reconocida politóloga egresada de la Universidad de Antioquia, activista trans y defensora de los derechos humanos, quien además se desempeñaba como docente universitaria.

Victoria fue hallada sin vida este lunes en Santa Elena, Antioquia, después de haber sido reportada como desaparecida el 29 de septiembre. La noticia ha generado una profunda conmoción entre sus colegas, amistades y los movimientos sociales que la conocieron por su compromiso incansable en la defensa de la diversidad y la igualdad.

Un legado que no morirá

El trabajo de Strauss se consolidó como un pilar del activismo trans en Antioquia, inspirando a nuevas generaciones de liderazgos y abriendo caminos en la academia y en los espacios de participación social y política. Su ausencia deja un vacío enorme, pero también un legado que seguirá marcando la lucha por los derechos de la población LGBTQ+.

Desde OrgulloLGBT.co expresamos nuestra solidaridad con su familia, amistades y con todos los sectores de la sociedad que hoy sienten su partida. Exigimos a las autoridades que se investiguen de manera urgente las circunstancias de su muerte y que se esclarezca si existieron negligencias en la atención y búsqueda.

Hoy despedimos a una gran lideresa trans, cuya voz no se apagará y cuyo legado seguirá vivo en cada lucha por la igualdad.

En el corazón de Medellín hay una red que late con fuerza propia. No aparece en los grandes titulares, pero su presencia se percibe en el sonido de un tambor que marca el ritmo de un ensayo, en las manos que se manchan de colores para pintar un mural, en el aire tibio que entra por las ventanas abiertas y se mezcla con el eco de una risa, en los abrazos que cierran una jornada. Es la Red Popular Trans, una plataforma comunitaria que ha hecho del arte, la naturaleza, las espiritualidades y la organización social una herramienta de vida para cientos de personas trans, no binaries y cuir, un lugar donde la creatividad fluye como el agua, se expande como el viento y se enraíza como un árbol que crece en suelo fértil.

Allí, los sueños se tejen en colectivo y las puertas que antes parecían cerradas se abren para dejar pasar la luz. De ese trabajo nació el Festival Interdisciplinar de Artes Trans – Travar las Artes, organizado junto a la colectiva Pajarapintadanza y fundado con el impulso y liderazgo de Ale Álvarez, quien fue una de sus creadoras y principal representante durante los primeros cuatro años. Este festival no es un evento para la foto, es el primer festival de arte trans en Colombia dirigido por personas trans y para personas trans, un hecho histórico que ha marcado un antes y un después en la cultura del país.

No es un simple espacio de exhibición: es un laboratorio vivo de resistencia y cuidado donde la danza, el teatro, la música, la poesía y las artes visuales dialogan con la tierra, el cuerpo y la voz, devolviéndoles su poder y transformándolos en acto político y en celebración de la vida. Travar las Artes ha demostrado que la cultura también puede ser una trinchera de libertad, y que es posible resignificar tradiciones para abrir nuevos caminos. Basta recordar la reinterpretación del bullerengue, una danza tradicional colombiana, llevada a escena desde una mirada queer y desafiante. Poner a una travesti a bailar bullerengue no fue un simple acto estético, sino un gesto político que desafió estructuras hegemónicas y abrió posibilidades de representación que antes parecían impensables.

En este espacio no hay protagonistas únicos. Cada historia es un cauce que alimenta un mismo río: la joven que encontró en la danza un lenguaje para hablar de su identidad sin miedo, el actor que convirtió su transición en una obra de teatro que recorre barrios y escuelas, la cantante que lleva su voz a escenarios comunitarios porque sabe que allí también se construye país. Entre esas historias, una brilla con especial fuerza: la de Ale.

Ale llegó a la Red Popular Trans buscando un lugar seguro donde pudiera ser sin explicaciones ni condiciones. Lo encontró, y encontró también un espejo en el arte, una forma de reconocerse. Lo que empezó como curiosidad por la danza se volvió vocación y raíz. Hoy es licenciada en Danza, graduada con honores, y ha regresado a los mismos espacios que la vieron crecer para guiar a otres que, como ella, buscan un camino. En cada taller que facilita, Ale recuerda que antes de ser profesional fue una persona que necesitaba escuchar: “Aquí eres bienvenide”.

Esa frase resume la esencia de lo que aquí ocurre. La Red Popular Trans no solo impulsa el festival: organiza talleres permanentes, acompaña procesos de salud y bienestar, conecta artistas con oportunidades y teje redes de apoyo que se sostienen incluso fuera del escenario. Pajarapintadanza ha puesto el cuerpo, el movimiento y el espíritu al servicio de la pedagogía queer y decolonial, demostrando que el arte puede sanar, movilizar y transformar.

En estas redes, cada logro individual es una victoria colectiva. Cuando une bailarín trans pisa un escenario, cuando une pintore no binarie exhibe su obra, cuando une poeta cuir recita frente a su comunidad, toda la red respira con orgullo. El arte que nace aquí no es lujo, es necesidad; no solo inspira, sino que salva. Es viento que acaricia, raíz que sostiene, agua que fluye y fuego que enciende. El trabajo comunitario, constante y apasionado, convierte historias marcadas por el dolor en relatos de resiliencia y esperanza. Ale, la Red Popular Trans, Pajarapintadanza y Travar las Artes son prueba viva de ello, recordándonos que mientras haya cuerpos que bailen, voces que se alcen y manos que creen, siempre habrá un lugar para empezar de nuevo, y a veces, sin darnos cuenta, ese lugar se convierte en hogar.

OrgulloLGBT.co es el socio mediático del Los Angeles Blade en Colombia. Esta nota salió en su sitio web.

En un hecho histórico para los derechos humanos en Colombia, la Comisión Primera de la Cámara de Representantes aprobó en primer debate el Proyecto de Ley 122 de 2024, conocido como la Ley Integral Trans, que busca garantizar la igualdad efectiva de las personas con identidades de género diversas en el país. Esta iniciativa, impulsada por más de cien organizaciones sociales defensoras de los derechos LGBTQ+, congresistas de la comisión por la Diversidad y personas trans, representa un paso decisivo hacia el reconocimiento pleno de derechos para esta población históricamente marginada.

La Ley Integral Trans propone un marco normativo robusto para enfrentar la discriminación y promover la inclusión. Entre sus principales ejes se destacan el acceso a servicios de salud con enfoque diferencial, el reconocimiento de la identidad de género en todos los ámbitos de la vida, la creación de programas de empleo y educación para personas trans, así como medidas para garantizar el acceso a la justicia y la protección frente a violencias basadas en prejuicios.

Detractores hablan de ‘imposición ideológica

Sin embargo, el avance del proyecto no ha estado exento de polémicas. Algunos sectores conservadores han señalado que la iniciativa representa una “imposición ideológica”. La senadora y precandidata presidencial María Fernanda Cabal anunció públicamente que se opondrá al proyecto de Ley Integral Trans cuando llegue al Senado, argumentando que “todas las personas deben ser tratadas por igual” y que esta propuesta vulneraría un principio constitucional. Estas declaraciones anticipan un debate intenso en las próximas etapas legislativas.

El proyecto también establecelineamientos claros para que las instituciones públicas respeten el nombre y el género con los que las personas trans se identifican, en concordancia con su identidad de género, y contempla procesos de formación y sensibilización en entidades estatales. Además, impulsa políticas públicas en contextos clave como el trabajo, la educación, la cultura y el deporte, promoviendo una vida libre de discriminación y con garantías plenas de participación.

¿Qué sigue para que sea ley?

La Ley aún debe superar varios debates legislativos, incluyendo la plenaria en la Cámara y luego el paso al Senado; pero la sola aprobación en Comisión Primera ya constituye un hito en la lucha por la igualdad y la dignidad de las personas trans en Colombia. En un país donde esta población enfrenta altos niveles de exclusión, violencia y barreras estructurales, este avance legislativo renueva la esperanza de una transformación real.

Desde www.orgullolgbt.co, celebramos este logro, invitamos a unirnos en esta causa impulsándola en los círculos a los que tengamos acceso y reiteramos nuestro compromiso con la visibilidad, los derechos y la vida digna de las personas trans. La #LeyIntegralTrans bautizada “Ley Sara Millerey” en honor de la mujer trans recientemente asesinada en Bello, Antioquia (ver más aquí); no es solo una propuesta normativa: es un acto de justicia que busca asegurar condiciones reales para que todas las personas puedan vivir con libertad, seguridad y respeto por su identidad.