Lu Orona recounts his experience beginning transition at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles (CHLA) — the same institution that recently announced it would no longer provide gender-affirming care, even to young adults who have relied on it for years.

When I was 17, I began my medical transition at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles (CHLA). Getting there took more than a year of obstacles: endless referrals, canceled appointments, and being told again and again that “we don’t do that here.” CHLA became my first real opening, the place that finally treated me as someone who deserved care instead of as a problem to be managed.

Before that, I had lived in a body that never felt like mine. I didn’t know what safety or ease felt like until I began testosterone. A year later, CHLA approved me for top surgery. For the first time, I could breathe deeply without the weight of a binder or the heavier weight of a healthcare system that had long rejected me. It was the first time I felt whole.

At my first consultation, I was shaking, expecting another rejection. Instead, I was treated with dignity. The day I gave myself my first testosterone injection. I cried, not from fear, but from the overwhelming sense that I was finally allowed to exist as myself. It was the beginning of a freedom I had been told I’d never have.

In the months that followed, the suicidal thoughts that once defined my days began to quiet. For the first time, I felt alive rather than just enduring life. I could laugh with friends, feel the sun on my skin, and experience my body as my own. CHLA had become my anchor in a world that so often told me I didn’t belong.

Then, this summer, that lifeline was cut.

In July, CHLA announced it would stop providing gender-affirming care, not just for minors, but for young adults like me. At 23, after five years of consistent care, I was told that my treatment would end. The same hospital that once helped me feel safe had withdrawn that safety without warning.

The decision is cruel in its inconsistency: CHLA continues to offer hormones and surgeries to cisgender patients, yet those same treatments are now off-limits for trans people. The hospital’s public statement framed the change as a policy for minors, but I stand as living proof that young adults are also being abandoned, with consequences that are immediate and devastating.

Losing CHLA doesn’t simply mean finding another doctor. It means starting over in a healthcare maze filled with waitlists, insurance denials, and clinics that treat trans care as an afterthought. I’ve lived this before. When I lost access to testosterone due to an insurance gap, my body shifted rapidly, my periods returned, my hormonal balance collapsed, and my mental health deteriorated. It took half a year before I felt stable again.

This is not only about healthcare logistics. It’s about trust, and how fragile it becomes for people who already face discrimination at every level of the medical system. Trans people experience higher rates of anxiety, depression, and trauma precisely because our access to care is never guaranteed. When an institution like CHLA walks away, it reinforces a message that has haunted us for decades: our health is conditional, our lives negotiable.

Accountability must come now, not later. If one institution retreats, others have a moral duty to step forward. Leadership in healthcare cannot mean showing up for Pride Month and disappearing when controversy arises. It must mean sustained, public, and enforceable commitments to trans patients—commitments that do not bend under pressure. Symbolic support is no longer enough. What we need are permanent policies and protections that make our care non-negotiable.

This responsibility extends beyond hospitals. Lawmakers, insurers, and the public must recognize that gender-affirming care is not elective. It is evidence-based, essential, and for many of us, life-saving. When it is stripped away, people suffer and some will not survive. The impact reaches far beyond youth, affecting young adults like me who are left without options mid-treatment.

This moment cannot be allowed to fade into another headline. Each closure, each withdrawal of care, pushes trans people back into silence and despair. CHLA may have stepped away, but I will not disappear with it.

We deserve a future in which trans people do not merely survive but thrive. That future is not an abstraction; it is possible, and the fight for it begins now.

Lu’s op-ed was presented on behalf of the California LGBTQ+ HHS Network in honor of Transgender Awareness Week 2025

What has the subtlety of a starship, the ego of a m***a-fuggin monstuh, and recently lost their god damn mind? If you guessed Nicki Minaj, you hit the nail on the bobble-head. And if you questioned my use of the word “recently,” well, you got me there. This one’s been spiraling for a minute – and now with a heavy dash of MAGA flair.

Miss Minaj, né Onika Tanya Maraj-Petty, has recently praised our presidential cabinet’s decision to threaten military action – “guns blazin” (sic) – against Nigeria over the alleged slaughter of Christians. In response, Trinidad-born Minaj, aka Nicki the Ninja, took to Twitter… I mean, X… to voice her support.

“No group should ever be prosecuted for practicing their religion. We don’t have to share the same beliefs in order for us to respect each other,” she tweeted. “Numerous countries all around the world are being affected by this horror, and it’s dangerous to pretend we don’t notice.”

Yes, Nicki, I full-heartedly agree. Let’s start with our own country, shall we? Hate crimes against Muslims in the U.S. rose 158% last year, and this from a nation that spent centuries forcing Indigenous peoples to abandon their languages and spiritual traditions in the name of “Christian civilization.” Perhaps step one toward actual moral leadership abroad is taking accountability at home. Just saying…

Nicki continued:

“Thank you to the President and his team for taking this seriously. God bless every persecuted Christian. Let’s remember to lift them up in prayer.”

It’s never too late to be saved, Nicki. But is this in any way, shape, or lace-front form an authentic awakening? Or is this just another lyric in the gospel of hypocrisy that’s been her brand for the better part of a decade? 

While Minaj, aka Roman Zolanski, tweets Bible scripture on one hand, the other’s been busy dishing out digital assaults of the unprovoked variety – at Megan Thee Stallion, Cardi B, Miley Cyrus, and pretty much every and any woman who’s dared to simply exist within a mile radius of her spotlight. It’s been a minute since I took a theology class, but I’m pretty sure Jesus preached forgiveness, not trolling (shout out to Fr. Michael, I retained something).

Minaj’s unwielding vitriol toward fellow female artists is a trope that speaks volumes not of her confidence but of deep-rooted insecurity. For some time now, Nicki has rallied her fanbase not to advocate for those in need but to bully her songwriting sisters, to mock their appearances, and diminish their achievements. This is not empowerment – it’s unquestionable projection. It’s the angry screams of someone who’s never made peace with themselves, no matter the name they don that week.

Maybe this is another hungry attempt at relevance, the all too familiar alchemy of outrage into attention. I mean, Nicki’s entire career has been built on spectacle, masking the absence of substance with cartoonish personas and exaggerated performance  (**cough cough** Katy Perry). Or maybe it’s something simpler, something bleaker – a woman who’s feeling her influence dissolve, who has grown to mistake chaos for connection. Either way, those that she defends will likely not be inviting her to their barbecues or bunkers anytime soon.

And now, I would like to take a moment to address her queer fanbase — the Barbz who still belt out every slurred syllable to Super Bass over happy hour vodka sodas while intermittently calling each other b*tch. To many of you, Nicki Minaj, aka The Harajuku Barbie, was once a symbol of unapologetic originality. But one cannot hold the title of “gay icon” while amplifying hate and division. A true icon stands for unity in a world of divisiveness, for praising collective victories and holding a mic to the voice of the marginalized. They feed and nourish our pride instead of being poisoned by their own, using their platforms to spread love and awareness – not to troll and tear others down.

Minaj doesn’t just risk alienating her loyal Barbz – she’s dismantling the very foundation of what once made her relevant: authenticity. The Nicki who once stood as a beacon for outcasts, weirdos, and dreamers has been replaced by a caricature brimming with bitterness. In her ongoing attempt to curate and control her narrative, she has lost all power to it.

With all of the sarcasm and shade aside, this is a case of an artist who, despite all of the fans and followers a pop artist could ask for, is more than likely not receiving the actual attention that may help to alleviate all of this hate she holds tight to. Underneath the vitriol, there is a woman unraveling – who more than likely needs help, not hashtags. Fame is a drug that rewards delusion and shuns reflection. It has the power to amplify paranoia, isolate empathy, and turn everyday acts into performance. 

In the end, empathy doesn’t excuse ignorance.  It can, however, remind us that even bullies have their breaking points. Nicki, aka Onika, is not a role model of Christian virtue; she’s just another cautionary tale clad in couture. Beneath the wigs and tweets is a woman who could’ve used her mic to lift people up, not drag them down. Minaj may be trending, but integrity is no part of the algorithm.

Today, Erin in the Morning reported something worth celebrating: voters decisively rejected candidates who built their campaigns on anti-trans hate. From Virginia to New Jersey to New York City, pro-trans and pro-equality candidates won by wide margins, delivering a stunning rebuke to those — including Democrats — who tried to turn transgender people into a wedge issue. As Erin put it: “conviction, not capitulation, is what wins.”

In recent years, trans people have been caught in a manufactured storm because we make effective political theater. The same playbook that turned immigrants, gay people, and women seeking healthcare into wedge issues has found new life targeting trans people. And like all culture wars, this one’s goal is distraction — keeping voters angry at each other instead of the systems failing them.

I often hear well-meaning people talk about finding “balance” in these debates — that we must weigh competing interests in a pluralistic democracy. And that’s true, to a point. But balance can’t mean deciding whose humanity is negotiable. Power should never come at the expense of another person’s civil or human rights.

That’s why I don’t believe trans concerns need to dominate the discourse — but they must never be abandoned, either. They deserve to be quietly, steadfastly upheld as part of a broader moral and democratic ethic.

If more people understood the human cost of sacrificing trans people for political convenience, they might find better ways. They’d see that being trans — the act of transitioning and living authentically — is not a special interest or a social experiment. It is freedom of expression. It is liberty. It is the pursuit of happiness. And any attack on those rights for trans people signals the erosion of those rights for all Americans.

I wish everyone could see the troves of leaked emails showing exactly how “bathrooms,” “kids,” and “sports” were focus-grouped into political weapons — issues that, for decades, were locally resolved with compassion and common sense, until strategists realized they could divide a nation with them. It’s the stuff of a true-crime podcast. (In fact, TransLash Media’s “The Anti-Trans Hate Machine” has done extraordinary work tracing how these campaigns radicalized even moderate and liberal Americans into adopting the talking points of the extreme right.)

If people truly understood how this machine operates — how far-right strategists deliberately engineered fear and misinformation toward the goal of creating a Christian nationalist state — they might recognize that the threat isn’t trans people at all. It’s the cynical manipulation of our empathy, our faith, and our ideals to maintain a kind of power structure almost nobody in this country actually wants.

Horse-trading human rights has been a feature of American politics since at least the late 19th century, when white Suffragettes sold out Black voters after Reconstruction to secure their own fragile foothold in power — a power that, ironically, never fully materialized. We’ve seen it again and again: from gay rights leaders distancing themselves from trans activists after Stonewall, to civil rights leaders sidelining Bayard Rustin, the gay architect of the March on Washington, out of fear of losing mainstream support. Each time, the doomed logic states that liberation can be negotiated piecemeal, that someone can be left behind now and rescued later. And people wonder why the Left can’t get anything done. 

Surely, diverse, collective power could have negotiated better. As just 0.7% of the population, trans people can’t add much weight to any political bargain — and aren’t worth the taxpayer dollars funding hundreds of bills designed to limit our freedoms. But the fact that selling each other out never works for anyone is an existential lesson we must finally learn if we ever hope for real progress. At this point, we have nothing to lose at all by doing it differently. 

Maybe more people than I think already understand that. At least it looks like more are starting to see it — and to vote accordingly. We live in hope.

Still, I won’t lie: it’s been a brutal year. Everything I feared would happen has unfolded faster and worse than I imagined. I didn’t see it coming that trans people would literally be called “domestic extremists,” or that people I once considered heroes — like Governor Gavin Newsom — would join in scapegoating us.

I’ve had to learn a new skill I never wanted: how to protect my privacy and physical safety while my country considers out loud whether I should be listed as a terrorist for the crimes of existing, for teaching people the etiquette of basic decency toward trans people, and for joining a movement to secure our place in the American Dream.

Once I got over the shock, fear, and most of the anxiety of all that, I had a realization I didn’t expect: I can handle anything now.

It’s a strange kind of empowerment, tempered by bitter sadness and deep disappointment. But “power is the point,” right? If the far right — and the everyday liberals who pre-complied with them by dropping trans rights — have taught me anything, it’s that I am far more powerful than any of the doomed ways they can imagine to stop me or my community.

Because freedom of expression, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness aren’t just founding tenets of this nation — they are the heartbeat of trans people, who have existed across every era and culture and will never cease to do so. You can repress us, legislate against us, or even rename us as threats. But you only reveal, through your attempts, how powerful we really are, because we never perish. 

To my friends who want progress, as we desperately do: stop wasting energy trying to silence us. Embrace us, and harness our power toward achieving the goals that matter to all of us. 

Scott Turner Schofield is an actor, writer, producer, speaker, and trans activist who transitioned 25 years ago and followed their calling to become an advocate.

By West Hollywood Councilmembers John M. Erickson and Danny Hang

When we ran for City Council, we both heard the same message repeatedly from residents and small business owners alike: it’s too hard to open a business in West Hollywood. From boutique owners on Santa Monica Boulevard to new café operators on the Eastside, people shared stories of navigating a complex maze of permits, design reviews, and approvals that can take months — sometimes more than a year — to complete. And if we are going to keep out the big box stores, create a steady revenue stream that helps fund our wonderful services, and protect our small-town charm, something needs to change.

That’s why we’ve coauthored a new policy initiative to streamline West Hollywood’s business permitting and signage regulations, making it faster, clearer, and more predictable for entrepreneurs to get up and running. This process in no way prevents community participation—it encourages it by putting people first.

Our small businesses are what make West Hollywood so special. They bring creativity, culture, and community to every block. But every month that a storefront sits empty or an opening is delayed costs jobs, tax revenue, and local vibrancy. If we want to keep West Hollywood’s economy strong, we have to make sure our systems are helping, not hindering, the people who invest here.

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Cutting Red Tape, Not Corners

The City has already taken important steps through its Permitting Enhancement Initiatives, such as the Permit Navigator Program, which provides one-on-one support to guide business owners through the process, and the Over-the-Counter Plan Review, which allows low-impact projects to get same-day approval. These programs have helped, but it’s time to go further.

Our proposal directs City staff to take a comprehensive look at how we can streamline and modernize the entire permitting process, from tenant improvements to signage, and bring back recommendations to the City Council by Q1 2026 or as part of the next fiscal year’s work plan.

That review will include looking at how long it currently takes to open a new business, identifying where the delays are, and setting clear performance goals to measure progress. For example, we’re suggesting a target of getting 90 percent of new non-food businesses open within 120 days of application and food businesses within 180 days. These goals are ambitious but achievable, and they’ll give everyone a clear sense of accountability.

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Updating Outdated Signage Rules

Another key part of this effort is updating West Hollywood’s sign ordinance. Our city has one of the most creative business communities in the country, yet many of our sign regulations were written decades ago and no longer reflect more effective, 21^st-century norms for businesses to advertise and express their identity today.

We’re calling for staff to explore how signage rules can be modernized and streamlined, while still upholding West Hollywood’s design standards and visual character. That might mean allowing certain types of signs to be approved administratively rather than going through multiple rounds of review, clarifying what qualifies as a “creative sign,” and ensuring our rules keep pace with advances in technology and accessibility.

By making these updates, we can reduce unnecessary delays for business owners while still protecting what makes our city visually iconic.

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Listening to Businesses, Measuring Success

This process will be collaborative. We’re directing staff to engage directly with the West Hollywood Chamber of Commerce, small business owners, local tenants, and neighborhood groups to ensure we’re identifying the right solutions and focusing on what matters most to those directly impacted. Again, this proposed process encourages robust community participation. 

We’ll also ask for data (one of the most important tools we have at our disposal), a snapshot of recent permit applications, how long they took to process, and where improvements can be made. This transparency will create a baseline for tracking success over time, ensuring our efforts are grounded in results, not rhetoric.

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Building on Our Progress

This initiative builds on the work of the Small Business Initiative Implementation Plan, adopted by the Council in 2023, which set out a roadmap to make West Hollywood more business-friendly (after all, we were named the most business-friendly city in 2021 by the Los Angeles County Economic Development Corporation). It also aligns with California’s AB 671, which now requires cities to expedite plan reviews for restaurant tenant improvements.

Together, these reforms will help ensure that West Hollywood continues to be a place where businesses — especially small, locally owned ones — can thrive.

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Time for Swift Action

We’ve heard the feedback. We know the challenges. It’s time to act. Now.

Streamlining the permitting process isn’t just about efficiency; it’s about equity. Small business owners, especially first-time entrepreneurs and people from underrepresented communities, often don’t have the resources to navigate a slow and complicated system. By simplifying the process, we’re creating more opportunities for everyone.

When our local businesses succeed, our community thrives. We’re proud to bring forward this initiative, and we’re committed to working with our staff, local partners, and residents to make doing business in West Hollywood faster, clearer, and fairer for all.

John Erickson is a Councilmember and Former Mayor of the City of West Hollywood and a candidate for California State Senate District 24. 

Danny Hang is a Councilmember of the City of West Hollywood and serves on the West Hollywood City Council Subcommittees for the Laurel House Project and Hart Park Phase II Improvements.

Editor’s note: This piece is a follow-up to Councilmember Erickson’s August 12 op-ed, “Why California Must Remove the Roadblocks to Safer Streets,” in the Los Angeles Blade.

When I wrote earlier this year about why California must remove the roadblocks to safer streets, I focused on what local governments like West Hollywood can do to fix our own processes. At our October 20 Council meeting, I’m advancing a proposal that will streamline how we plan and deliver infrastructure projects to move traffic better and make our streets safer—without unnecessary delays.

But sadly, this proposal is just not enough. Local reform can only go so far, as California’s cities are bound by outdated state contracting laws that tie our hands, waste taxpayer money, and make it harder to deliver the improvements our residents deserve.

If we’re serious about making our communities safer, cleaner, and more sustainable, we need statewide reform of the Public Contract Code—and that means allowing every city and county to utilize a best value contracting method for public projects.

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Modernizing How We Improve Infrastructure

Under current state law, most cities must award public works contracts based solely on the lowest bid. On paper, that sounds fair. In practice, it often means that the lowest price wins over the best qualified bid—leading to cost overruns, project delays, and endless change orders. It’s the government equivalent of buying the cheapest option first and paying more for it later.

Best value contracting flips that equation. It allows cities to weigh qualifications, experience, sustainability, and innovation—not just price—when selecting contractors. This approach has already been proven successful by counties, universities, and some charter cities. But most local governments in California don’t have permanent access to this tool.

That needs to change.

If cities like West Hollywood could permanently use best value contracting, we could deliver safer streets, park improvements, and infrastructure upgrades faster, more efficiently, and at lower cost to taxpayers.

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Cutting Bureaucratic Bloat and Building Trust

Reforming the Public Contract Code to make best value contracting a statewide option would do more than save time and money—it would restore trust in government. Residents are frustrated by projects that take years to design and even longer to build. The truth is, much of that delay is built into the system itself: outdated rules that reward red tape over results.

By embracing a best value model, we’d reduce bureaucratic bloat, empower city staff to focus on outcomes, and give communities more transparency in how projects are delivered—with the best overall outcome. It’s smart, responsible government—and it’s long overdue.

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From Local Action to Statewide Change

West Hollywood is doing its part. Our “Removing Infrastructure Roadblocks” policy will streamline local project timelines and prioritize safety. But real, lasting change requires partnership from Sacramento.

It’s time for the State Legislature to update the Public Contract Code and give every city the permanent ability to use best value contracting. With that change, we can finally build faster, smarter, and fairer—while saving money and lives along the way.

The path to safer streets starts in our cities, but the power to clear the roadblocks lies with the state. Let’s make it happen.

On Monday, October 20, the West Hollywood City Council will consider my proposal to remove local infrastructure roadblocks and set a new model for how cities can build more efficiently. I’m inviting everyone who believes in safer, smarter, and faster investment in our public spaces to show up and make your voice heard.

You can attend in person at the West Hollywood City Council Chambers (625 N. San Vicente Blvd.) or submit a public comment online at www.weho.org/agendas. Every voice matters — your input helps ensure we build a city and a state that works for everyone.

The path to safer streets starts here in West Hollywood. Let’s take that first step together — and let’s make sure California clears the roadblocks statewide.

California cities can’t keep building 21st-century infrastructure with 20th-century rules. It’s time to give local governments the flexibility to deliver for the people they serve.

John Erickson is a Councilmember and Former Mayor of the City of West Hollywood and a candidate for California State Senate District 24. 

In Los Angeles, where rainbow flags line Santa Monica Boulevard and queer communities carve out space to thrive, it can feel surreal that the federal government might one day classify transgender people as terrorists. Yet this no longer belies a paranoid fantasy. Reports surfaced this fall that the FBI is considering whether to categorize trans people under a newly minted threat label called “Nihilistic Violent Extremists”. This came in the wake of conspiracy theories that Charlie Kirk’s assassin was trans–theories that were later debunked. The Heritage Foundation, through its Project 2025 blueprint, has openly suggested that “transgender ideology” belongs in the same basket as terrorism. What sounds like fringe demagoguery is being whispered in the corridors of federal power. 

The danger of such framing is terrifying. When governments confuse identity with ideology, they are laying the groundwork for persecution. We have seen this playbook before. In the 1930s, Adolf Hitler’s regime did not begin with concentration camps. It began with words. Jews were depicted as corrupting influences, dangerous parasites, and threats to Aryan purity. Bureaucratic edicts stripped them of jobs, banned them from public schools, and erased their presence from civic life. This sort of parallels what is happening to trans people right now–we have been banned from the military, we can’t use the bathroom of our choosing, and we are being denied critical healthcare. A rhetorical shift–from neighbor to danger–makes it possible for ordinary citizens to tolerate, and even participate in, their eventual destruction. 

On his first day back in office, Trump signed Executive Order 14168, erasing gender identity from federal recognition, cutting funding for care, and redefining sex as fixed and immutable. Another order, 14190, criminalizes teachers who affirm a student’s pronouns or facilitate their social transition, equating simple recognition with exploitation. These are not abstract debates over language. They are policies that dictate whether people can live authentically, whether youth can find safety in schools, and whether families can see their children treated with dignity. To then float the idea of designating trans people as extremists is not an isolated thought experiment. It is a continuation of a campaign already intent on erasing us.

Just as Hitler began by classifying Jews as subversives, today’s political leaders risk classifying transgender people as national security threats. In both cases, identity is treated as a contagion. In both cases, the state deploys the language of danger to justify measures that would otherwise be unthinkable. And in both cases, the consequences for silence are catastrophic. When trans existence is conflated with terrorism, it becomes easier for ICE to surveil us, for policymakers to justify banning our gatherings, and for agencies to deny us access to the very structures of public life. What begins as words in a memo can end in barbed wire, if history is any guide.

Los Angeles knows better than to believe itself immune. The city has long been a sanctuary for queer and trans people, a place where art and activism have fused into survival. Yet federal classifications do not stop at county lines. A Pride march in West Hollywood could be branded a security risk if Washington decides that trans identity itself is extremist. A parent advocating for their child at a Los Angeles school board meeting could suddenly find their activism logged in a federal file. 

The stakes of this moment are enormous. If the American public shrugs at the possibility of transgender people being labeled “nihilistic terrorists,” we risk normalizing the logic of persecution. And if that logic hardens, it will not stop with us. Once a regime learns to brand identity itself as dangerous, it will reach for new scapegoats to sustain its power.

Los Angeles has always been a city of resistance, a place where queer life refuses to be hidden, a place where silence is not an option. That spirit must animate our response now. To accept these federal whispers as mere rhetoric is to betray the lessons of history. To resist them is to defend not only transgender lives, but the integrity of democracy itself.

Words prepare the ground for action. Plenty of dictators have taught us that. The only question is whether we will recognize the warning signs in time.

Isaac Amend is a writer based in the D.C. area. He is a trans man and was featured in National Geographic’s “Gender Revolution” documentary. He serves on the board of the LGBT Democrats of Virginia and is a Yale graduate. You can follow him on Instagram at @isaacamend 

APLA Health, a nonprofit providing HIV care, prevention, and sexual health services, announced the return of AIDS Walk Los Angeles on Sunday, October 12, 2025, starting from West Hollywood Park. This year’s theme, “Community Is the Cure,” emphasizes the role of unity in advancing progress against HIV/AIDS and supporting those affected.

Walk day will feature a live performance from RuPaul’s Drag Race star Heidi N Closet, DJ sets, and community booths. Following the celebration, walkers will make their way through the streets of West Hollywood.

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“This event was born out of urgency, and it’s just as relevant today,” said Craig E. Thompson, CEO of APLA Health. “We’ve made incredible progress in the fight against HIV, but that progress is under direct threat from funding cuts and political attacks. Now is the time to show that we won’t be silenced or set back.”

Since its inception forty years ago, AIDS Walk Los Angeles has grown into one of the largest HIV/AIDS fundraising events in the world, raising nearly $100 million. Proceeds fund APLA Health’s services, including HIV specialty care, sexual health services, food and nutrition support, and housing assistance.

“The HIV/AIDS epidemic has always shown us that progress happens when people come together, when patients, neighbors, families, activists, and health providers stand shoulder to shoulder. Today, with funding under attack and stigma resurfacing, unity is not optional. ‘Community Is the Cure’ is a reminder that science alone isn’t enough. We need collective willpower, advocacy, and solidarity to ensure everyone has access to the care and dignity they deserve,” Thompson said.

Cuts to Medicaid, the Ryan White Program, and prevention funding threaten access to medications, housing assistance, and food security. “Here in Los Angeles, where tens of thousands rely on these programs, even modest reductions can push people back into crisis. AIDS Walk Los Angeles helps fill some of those gaps, but philanthropy cannot fully replace the government’s responsibility,” Thompson explained.

Communities of color, the medically underserved, people living in poverty, and those experiencing homelessness are disproportionately affected. “The barriers aren’t medical. They’re structural: stigma, lack of insurance, unstable housing, and underfunded safety-net services. The administration is underinvesting in the very programs designed to break down these barriers. Until that changes, inequities in HIV prevention and care will persist,” he said.

Funds raised by the walk provide housing, groceries, case management, and access to medical care. Thompson shared the story of one patient who had lost housing and had to choose between medication and meals. “Through AIDS Walk–funded programs, we were able to connect him to stable housing, consistent medical care, and our food pantry. Today, he is virally suppressed, working again, and mentoring others who are newly diagnosed with HIV. Stories like his are common, and they remind us that cuts aren’t just numbers on a spreadsheet, they’re setbacks in real people’s lives.”

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Beyond fundraising, AIDS Walk LA is a platform for advocacy. “When thousands of people flood the streets of West Hollywood, it’s a visible reminder to our community that HIV/AIDS has not gone away and to policymakers that their decisions have life-or-death consequences. The walk puts pressure on elected officials to fund programs, fight stigma, and stand up for people affected by HIV,” Thompson said.

He urged the public to take action beyond walking and donating. “Call your elected officials. Demand that HIV services remain fully funded. Show up for community hearings. Support housing initiatives. Share facts on social media to counter stigma. And, importantly, talk. Without continued conversation about HIV/AIDS and sexual health, we jeopardize the incredible advancements we’ve made in HIV care and prevention.”

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Thompson also framed the walk as part of a broader activist approach. “Radical action today means showing up for one another in tangible ways, housing someone, feeding someone, advocating for someone, and refusing to accept policies that erase people’s humanity. As our theme emphasizes, when politicians fail us, COMMUNITY IS THE CURE. For participants in AIDS Walk LA, it means recognizing that the walk is just the beginning. Each person can be a messenger, an advocate, and an ally in daily life. When we work together to get people connected to support services, the collective action is radical because it insists on care and dignity in a time when those values are under attack.”

“Activism ensures policymakers cannot quietly dismantle programs. Community solidarity means that no one gets left behind. Public pressure creates accountability. When thousands unite at AIDS Walk LA, it demonstrates the broad mandate to keep fighting until HIV is no longer a public health crisis. That unity is as important as any medical breakthrough,” Thompson concluded.

For more information on AIDS Walk Los Angeles and how to register, visit https://AIDSWALK.LA.

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In a time when queer folks are often made to decide between affirming care and accessible care, Rainbow Hill Recovery serves as both a lifeline and a lighthouse. Founded by partners Joey Bachrach and Andrew Fox, the LA-based treatment and recovery center is undoubtedly community-first, client-centered, and radically transparent. We took a moment with Joey to talk about the importance of representation, the myths surrounding addiction in our queer communities, and how we can better serve those in our queer family who are struggling.

How do you define LGBTQ+ affirming care, and how does Rainbow Hill ensure it from start to finish?

There’s a huge difference between being friendly and being affirming. A lot of programs will say they “work well” with the LGBTQ+ community, but in practice, that often falls short. To be truly affirming is to see clients exactly as they are, respecting their pronouns, their identity, and creating space where they can recover openly and without judgment.

At Rainbow Hill, our entire staff is part of the community. Gay, bi, trans, non-binary, you name it. Representation is critical, especially in recovery. Our leadership reflects that, and it shows in our culture. It starts at the top.

Was there a specific moment when you realized there was a gap in LGBTQ+ affirming recovery and treatment services?

Absolutely. That became painfully clear when we opened Rainbow Hill Sober Living in 2021. We looked around and realized there were maybe three programs nationwide that exclusively catered to LGBTQ+ individuals. Just three. Sure, there are allies out there doing great work, and we consider many of them friends, but truly community-specific care is still incredibly rare. That was our “aha” moment.

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How has your personal experience shaped the culture and philosophy of Rainbow Hill?

That’s a tough one. I think it comes down to living authentically and being open about our own journeys. My husband Andrew and I are both in recovery, and we wear that proudly. While we’re not 12-step focused, we respect all paths to recovery.

For us, recovery is about planting seeds, watering them, and never taking credit. We give our clients autonomy. They don’t get to dictate their treatment, but they definitely get a say. If someone isn’t connecting with a group, they’re welcome to step out, regulate, and return when ready. We’ve found that this freedom creates a community where people genuinely want to be here.

What are the different levels of care that Rainbow Hill offers?

Rainbow Hill offers three distinct levels of care, each tailored to meet clients where they are in their recovery journey. The most intensive level is the Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP), which runs five days a week from 9:00 AM to 12:30 PM. Clients in PHP participate in five therapeutic groups each day and receive comprehensive support, including regular sessions with a psychiatrist or nurse practitioner, as well as weekly one-on-one therapy with a licensed clinician. This level of care typically lasts between six and twelve weeks, depending on the individual’s needs and insurance authorization.

For those needing a step down in intensity, Rainbow Hill offers an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) with two flexible options: IOP 5, which involves three hours of group therapy five days a week, and IOP 3, which provides the same structure but condensed into three days of the client’s choosing—often Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Both IOP levels include individual therapy sessions with a licensed therapist. Finally, the outpatient program serves as a more flexible, a la carte option for those transitioning back into daily life. Clients can choose between one and three hours of group therapy per week, and by this point, they’re typically paired with an external therapist for ongoing individual support.

How does Rainbow Hill address co-occurring mental health issues and trauma?

We’ve hired an incredible team of licensed clinicians who specialize in trauma and dual diagnosis. Our Clinical Director, Janae Borrego, leads trauma-focused groups, and we have separate tracks for mental health and substance use, depending on the client’s needs.

We’re licensed to treat both primary mental health and primary substance use, which isn’t always the case at other facilities. We don’t pretend to know everything, but we do make sure the right experts are in the room.

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What does aftercare look like at Rainbow Hill?

It starts on day one. Our case manager, Steven, who’s also a counselor, begins discharge planning as soon as someone arrives. Are they going back home? Into sober living? Do they need a support network outside of treatment? We help them build that life.

We also have an Alumni Coordinator who keeps everyone connected post-treatment. They know they can call their clinical team anytime, even if it’s just to say, “I’m struggling.” We want this to be their last stop.

What are the biggest misconceptions about addiction and recovery, especially within the LGBTQ+ community?

That it’s a choice. Addiction is no more a choice than being gay or trans is. Nobody chooses to be bullied or cast aside, just like nobody chooses the chaos and harm that comes with addiction.

I’ve hurt people I love. I was a different person. The idea that we’re beyond help, or that we chose this, is a dangerous lie. A former therapist once told me: “That person you see on the street? They could be the one who saves your child’s life one day.” That really stuck with me. It’s a philosophy we carry at Rainbow Hill.

How is the landscape of LGBTQ+ recovery evolving?

There are definitely more options today than even a few years ago. Programs are getting better educated. Some are true allies. Others, well, a rainbow flag on your website doesn’t make you affirming.

There’s still a long way to go, but we’re seeing progress, and that gives me hope.

What’s the biggest challenge Rainbow Hill faces today?

Clients come to us after being misled – promised one thing, delivered something entirely different. Some centers still ask invasive questions like, “What surgeries have you had?” That’s unacceptable, especially for someone already in crisis.

Too many providers are in it for the wrong reasons, money over mission. If LGBTQ+ care isn’t your specialty, don’t fake it. Learn first. Then show up with integrity.

How does Rainbow Hill incorporate advocacy into its work?

We try to make sobriety look like the joy it can be. That includes humor, community events, and yes, the occasional Smart & Final burrito. We’ve raffled off free treatment at Pride events, and in October, we’re launching a grant-funded program for West Hollywood residents, workers, and unhoused folks to receive two months of free care.

We’re also sex-positive and body-positive. While clients can’t actively engage in sex work during treatment, we prepare them for re-entry if that’s their chosen work.

Transparency is everything. Our office is a literal fishbowl, no curtains, no secrets. Clients see us. We see them. It’s all intentional.

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With rising anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, how are you supporting clients who feel that pressure?

We’ve created a space where those hard conversations can happen. Many of our clients are trans, and we’ve had people express suicidal ideation directly related to the threat of losing access to gender-affirming care.

We don’t shy away from these topics. We meet people exactly where they are, no filter, no shame. Our job is to hold space, not judge. While we try to stay out of politics as a business, our clients live in that world every day, and we don’t ignore it.

Do you think the current administration is doing enough? What policy changes are needed?

Honestly? No. They’re not. Members of our community need access to mental health and substance use services without fearing they’ll lose that care tomorrow.

Technically, we’re not classified as a gender-affirming care provider, but in reality, we absolutely are. We may not perform surgeries, but we affirm and support our clients’ identities every day. We need more protections, period.

On a lighter note, what does joy look like to you, and how do you spread it?

We literally have a group called “Joy.” One week it’s dancing, the next it’s screaming “Pink Pony Club” at the top of their lungs. For me, joy is living authentically. I’m a proud gay man in a loving marriage. I dyed my hair blue the other day. My mom said, “Well, at least you don’t live under my roof.” And I said, “Exactly!”

Joy is not caring what others think. It’s different for everyone. But for me, it’s being unapologetically myself.

What’s one self-care practice you have now that younger you would’ve laughed at?

Breathing. Slowing down. Resting. My brain never stops, so I still struggle with it. But the basics are often the most powerful. 15 years ago, I was deep in addiction. I couldn’t have imagined any of this. Younger me needed to buckle up.

What’s next for Rainbow Hill? Any expansion or partnerships on the horizon?

We just moved into a larger space in Miracle Mile, so we can now run three groups simultaneously instead of one. That means we can help more people.

We also launched the Rainbow Hill Foundation, our nonprofit arm, to provide financial assistance for treatment and sober living. Eventually, we’d love to expand into smaller-minded cities and states where programs aren’t available.

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When I learned I was living with HIV nine years ago, there were a lot of questions to be answered: how will I access treatment? Will I feel safe and respected by my care team? What does stigma look like for me in the fourth decade of the HIV epidemic? 

While I was fortunate to have a wonderful team of case managers and health care providers who guided me through an unfamiliar and complex medical system, I’ve heard countless stories of people fighting tooth and nail just to find appropriate care, let alone treatment.  

Our country’s labyrinthine, convoluted health system is cluttered with obstacles like prior authorization and step therapy. Both of which needlessly delay access to health care by imposing vague requirements and/or forcing patients to “fail” a series of medications before they are granted access to the one actually prescribed by their physician. For game-changing HIV prevention drugs like PrEP, these hurdles endanger lives. Combined with our current federal landscape being incredibly antagonistic (i.e., the Trump Administration trying to gut $1.5 billion in HIV prevention funding, among a laundry list of offenses), the LGBTQ+ community is facing disproportionate hardships that are exacerbating disparities and contributing to further stigmatization.  

Thankfully, California policymakers are doing their part to protect our community. Assembly Bill 554, authored by Assemblymember Mark González (D-Los Angeles), follows in the footsteps of nine other states by ensuring coverage for all long-acting, injectable drugs used for PrEP and PEP. The bill “safeguards patient and provider choice” by eliminating cost-sharing and expanding access to a wider range of ARV medications to help bolster medication adherence rates. It also ensures coverage for future formulations of ARV drugs that are better at making HIV undetectable and untransmissible. 

PrEP (pre-exposure prophylaxis) and PEP (post-exposure prophylaxis) are effective regimens for preventing the transmission of HIV when taken as prescribed. AB 554 enshrines quick access to these treatments, satisfying calls for health equity, especially for Black and Latino Californians, who face disproportionate transmission and infection rates. 

AB 554 is a huge step in the right direction; however, without consistent leadership from policymakers, those living with HIV will continue to be the first on the budget chopping block. Just last week, the California Legislature passed a budget trailer bill (AB 144) that includes provisions to divert funds from the AIDS Drugs Assistance Program Rebate Fund toward general state operations.  

California policymakers can’t say they’re countering the Trump Administration and supporting the HIV community if they’re also ripping the rug out from underneath us. AIDS Drug Assistance Programs are lifelines – they normalize diagnoses, fund direct services, and help uninsured and underinsured patients access essential care.  

Ironically, while AB 554 will build upon the work of ADAPs to eliminate prohibitive barriers, AB 144 will steal funds from the program to instead boost state revenue. ADAPs already operate from a very small annual revenue of fixed federal funding awards per state. States taking more money away from these critical programs will threaten their ability to serve HIV patients. Moreover, these dollars are statutorily prohibited from being used for non-HIV care by Title II of the Ryan White CARE Act. 

California is destined to repeat the sins of the past unless Governor Newsom steps in. For too long, those living with HIV have been isolated, cast aside, leveraged for political gain, and dropped soon thereafter if something better comes along. We are not budget dust, we are not pawns in a political game, we are real people with real voices, and we’re asking Governor Newsom to do what’s right: redline the ADAP provisions from AB 144 and sign AB 554 into law.  

California can lead the nation in doing what’s right for all communities. But it starts with policy, and we have to make sure policies are centered around those they impact. 

Kalvin Pugh is the state policy director for the Community Access National Network, a national 501(c)(3) nonprofit that works to improve access to health care services and supports for people living with HIV/AIDS and viral hepatitis through advocacy, education and networking.

As gay men, are we having more sex than our fore-daddies or just more open about it? Between Grindr dings that hit harder than Double Scorpio, PrEP prescriptions as our daily gay-ly vitamin, and the ever-present anxiety of FOMO, I think it’s fair to ask, is hooking up becoming a numbers game, more focused on quantity vs. quality, for many of us ‘mos?

For eons, gay sex has been both a subject of fascination and moral panic for those on the hetero side of the picket fence. But the conversation has shifted. Today, the questions come less from pearl-clutching conservatives and more from within our own community. How much is too much? Are we liberated yet? Are more and more of our gay brethren basking in the waters of heteronormativity? And to what extent are our sex lives driven by libido, validation, or the simple fact that we can?

Let’s start with the obvious culprit: technology. Of course, as gay men, the first thing that we did following the birth of the smartphone was create a way to see all of the fair-game dick within a one-mile radius. We were the first to adopt hookup apps as essential social tools, from the early days of Grindr to the onset of Sniffies. According to research cited by Gay Counsellor, compulsive use of apps can mirror patterns of behavioral addiction, where “likes” and “messages” stimulate dopamine in ways eerily similar to gambling. The buzz of a notification becomes less about actual intimacy and more about self-worth. Sex as currency, matches as validation.

A TIME article warned in 2014 that hookup apps might be “destroying gay relationships,” arguing that the sheer efficiency of digital cruising left little incentive for building intimacy. Why invest in a partner when you can have instant access to some NSA ass five feet away? It’s the Amazon Prime of getting off – quick delivery, same-day service.

I think that these critics are missing a nuance here. Apps aren’t inherently bad; they are simply adding a Cialis to what’s already in our culture. If we already treat sex as a form of transactional validation in normal life, apps inject that insecurity with steroids.

Then there’s PrEP, the little blue pill that revolutionized sexual health and, in turn, our sex lives. Since its FDA approval in 2012, Truvada has been both a miracle and a lightning rod. A CUNY study found that PrEP has fueled perceptions of promiscuity. The assumption is that biomedical safety nets invite reckless raw-dogging abandon, reinforcing the stereotype of gay men as hedonistic ho-bags.

But the data tells a more complicated story. Research published in the Journal of Medical Internet Research (2022) suggests that while PrEP use does correlate with higher numbers of sexual partners for some, it also fosters healthier discussions about safety and reduces anxiety around HIV. Translation: PrEP doesn’t make people slutty, it makes them feel secure. If this sense of sexual security emboldens them to embrace their sexuality more fully, is that really a problem? Or is it just a shift in norms?

Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. As The Conversation notes, homosexuality may have evolved as much for social bonding as it did for reproduction. Historically, gay sex wasn’t just about pleasure but also survival, solidarity, and even networking. In the years after Stonewall, sex was political. It was a sweaty form of protest against heteronormative repression, a celebration of community in defiance of shame.

But in 2025, sex has also become… a competition. Liam Heitmann-Ryce-LeMercier’s essay on Medium critiques how queer culture sometimes conflates liberation with obligation. Promiscuity is framed less as personal choice and more as proof of authenticity. Don’t want to sleep around? Then maybe you’re repressed, prudish, or not “gay enough.” The pressure cuts both ways – to have sex, to crave sex, to keep up with everyone else’s sex.

And here’s where FOMO comes in. For every wild Saturday night Instagram story, there’s someone scrolling at home, wondering if they’re missing out – not on an orgasm, but on acceptance and belonging. The sex itself is just the trophy to the win, secondary to the validation of being chosen, the real prize.

So what actually drives this culture? Libido is undoubtedly up in this. Gay men, like all people, are wired with sexual impulses. But the psychological factors are harder to ignore. Validation looms large. The “yes” of a stranger affirms desirability. The “no” can often feel like a reflection of our worth. Ego magnifies the stakes, turning sex from a dance in the sheets into a scoreboard.

A telling study in the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health posited that compulsive app users often report using sex as a coping mechanism for loneliness and low self-esteem. Which inevitably raises the question – are we having more sex because we want it, or because we need to prove something, whether that is to ourselves and to others?

No discussion of queer sex culture or sex as a whole would be complete without tackling entitlement. Many of us know the type: the man who can’t take “no” for an answer, who interprets rejection as an insult, who cloaks his bruised ego in accusations of rudeness or exclusion.

Here’s the truth: just because you hand out a cookie or two doesn’t mean you have to share with the class. Consent is not a punch card system, and no one is entitled to anyone else’s body. Yet too often, rejection is reframed as cruelty, with aggressors painting themselves as victims. Is it gaslighting? Maybe. Is it delusion? Almost certainly. The lesson is simple: declining sex doesn’t make you a monster, and other people’s inability to handle rejection doesn’t make it your problem. Autonomy is not negotiable.

So are gay men more promiscuous today? In some ways, yes. Apps have streamlined access, PrEP and doxy have lowered risks, and cultural stigma is withering. But promiscuity isn’t the villain or the hero of this story. It’s a spectrum, shaped by psychology, politics, history, technology, and so much more.

For some, sex is liberation; for others, it’s compulsion. For some, it’s community; for others, it’s ego. The pearl-jammed peril lies not in the sex itself but in mistaking quantity for quality, validation for value, or pressure for choice.

Our challenge isn’t to moralize but to contextualize. To ask ourselves (and only ourselves)  not how much sex we’re having, but why, and to respect that everyone’s reasons for getting down are their own. And to remember that liberation isn’t measured by tallies on a jockstrap waistband but by freedom from stigma, coercion, and shame. Stay safe and stay self-aware, my fellow bedfellows.