Survivor’s guilt and trauma from surviving the early days of the AIDS epidemic are oftentimes cited as the reasons why HIV long-term survivors experience depression and other mental health symptoms. Now, the experience of living through a second devastating pandemic–COVID-19–is compounding the anxiety, sense of loss, and social isolation faced by some long-term survivors.
“COVID-19 has really brought up a lot of memories of friends dying from AIDS,” said Vince Crisostomo, a long-term survivor and director of aging services at San Francisco AIDS Foundation. “The images of hospitals being overrun–they’re similar to the images we saw in the early years of the AIDS epidemic. The scale of how many people have died is really scary. You just think, ‘Will I make it? Will I survive?”
Activists are calling for additional support to address the evolving mental health care needs of a growing population aging with HIV. This need is specifically called out in the San Francisco Principles, a call for resources and treatment specifically addressing the unmet needs of long-term survivors published by a group of activists including Crisostomo, and a 2021 San Francisco budget request to fund mental health care services for long-term survivors.
The budget request, for $300,000, would fund mental health coordination efforts in order to decrease barriers to accessing culturally competent mental health services.
“We have suffered through isolation and loneliness, the expense of medications and health care visits, declining physical health, untreated substance use and mental health problems, and the damage done to us by early HIV medications. We have been virtually forgotten, shoved to the sidelines by AIDS researchers and service providers, and by physicians who have not been trained to treat the unique problems of surviving with HIV,” said long-time survivor and activist Hank Trout, in an article describing the Principles.
“Many long-term survivors who lived through the early years of AIDS didn’t know whether they were going to live this long,” said Angel Vazquez, health educator with aging services. “Now they’re still here–but have lost relationships, friends, and families. They need to be able to regain a sense of resilience in order to integrate again into the community after COVID-19.”
“You have to keep in mind that people who have been living with HIV for many years also often experience comorbidities from HIV or the early HIV drugs,” said Dusty Araujo, manager of aging services at SFAF. “These additional health problems can really affect someone’s mental health when experiencing yet another pandemic. Especially if they’re more isolated because of COVID-19 and don’t have strong support from family or other loved ones nearby.”
“COVID-19 has affected so many people, from the disabled, to the working class, to people who all of a sudden have found themselves job insecure,” said Michael Rouppet, an activist and long-term HIV survivor. “Everything devolved into chaos. I think COVID-19 really took the mask off and showed how vulnerable we really are–especially for people who are at risk of losing their housing and being evicted. Housing really is healthcare, and it is a component of mental health. Even though we have an eviction moratorium at the moment, what happens once rent becomes due? These issues are all inter-related. Many long-term survivors are experiencing the overlapping effects of COVID-19, housing insecurity, isolation, substance use, and mental health issues.”
Rouppet said that this is one reason why the San Francisco Principles specifically call out the need for on-demand, reasonably-priced (or free) access to mental health care for long-term survivors.
“There’s so much unmet need right now,” said Rouppet. “A lot of people are in crisis. We’re just not meeting the need, and we’re not moving quickly enough to meet the needs of an aging population of people living with HIV. Here I am in my 50s, and I’m looking 20 years ahead to how many of us will still be here that will need these types of services.”
A component of holistic care includes connection to community–one focus of the Elizabeth Taylor 50-Plus Network and aging services at SFAF. Although the group is not specifically a therapy or mental health group, services focus on building the resilience of the aging community.
“Our focus is really on socializing and making sure that people have a positive community they can connect with,” said Crisostomo. “Being happy with your life–because of your social connections–is so important to aging, and living longer. You have to stay connected and get involved, so you don’t become isolated.”
“When people are going through mental health issues and crisis, they might turn to drugs and alcohol,” said Rouppet. “But we need harm reduction resources, to lessen the risk of overdose. We need ways for people to get community support. The opposite of isolation is connection. And that has to be instrumental in getting people back connected to the community.”
GLAAD, the world’s largest lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) media advocacy organization, today revealed its second annual 20 Under 20 list, spotlighting twenty young LGBTQ people, ages 20 and under, who are accelerating acceptance of LGBTQ people while shaping the future of media and activism. GLAAD’s 20 Under 20 list is presented by Google, with Official Sponsors UGG® and Shutterfly.
GLAAD’s 20 Under 20 list launched this morning in Teen Vogue, featuring individual portraits of each honoree captured on the Google Pixel 5 by Mayan Toledano of Pixel’s Creator Labs. See the full list here.
“More than ever before, young LGBTQ people are changing the way the world sees and understands LGBTQ people, while leading the charge to create a safer, more inclusive and equal society for all,” said GLAAD President & CEO Sarah Kate Ellis. “Whether it’s driving LGBTQ visibility and representation in national politics, local activism, music, or Hollywood, the honorees on this year’s 20 Under 20 list are a testament to the power that young LGBTQ people have to create lasting cultural change.”
Full profiles of the 20 Under 20 honorees can be found at TeenVogue.com. This year’s honorees include:
Amiri Nash, he/him, 19. Amiri is an artist, activist, writer, and a DC Youth Poet Laureate who co-founded Sign of Justice, a project that creates signs in predominantly white neighborhoods to raise awareness about racial injustice and other social issues.
Andrea Alejandra Gonzales, they/she, 20. Andrea is a Mestiza queer activist and organizer, currently working as the Director of Operations for Youth Over Guns and an Instructor through New Yorkers Against Gun Violence Education Fund’s school program, ReACTION.
Andrew Adams, he/him, 20. Andrew is student and activist from Florida who successfully sued his school board for restricting him from using the men’s restroom because he is transgender, becoming the country’s first trial involving a transgender student’s equal access to restrooms.
Ashton Mota, he/him, 16. Ashton is a GenderCool Project Champion who is well known for being a public face for the “Yes on 3” movement in Massachusetts, which successfully upheld a law allowing people to use restrooms and public facilities that align with their gender identity.
Austin Houck, he/him, 20. Austin is the founder of Homoglobin, a nonprofit dedicated to advancing queer equality in healthcare and education, which was instrumental in helping to pass HB 916 in Virginia in 2020.
Cyn Gómez, they/them/elle, 18. Cyn is a LGBTQ and mental health activist who serves as a member of the Mental Health America’s Youth Leadership Council, an ambassador for the Tangible Movement, and a Commissioner on Homelessness for the City of Berkeley.
Darid Prom, any pronouns, 20. Darid is a queer immigrant who has worked with GLSEN, GLAAD, and multiple nonprofits to promote the liberation of LGBTQ people of color, and has testified in front of the House Committee on Oversight and Reform on the impact of anti-LGBTQ bills on LGBTQ youth.
Eli Bundy, they/them, 17. Eli is a trans and non-binary student and activist who led their school’s Gender and Sexuality Alliance in successfully striking down South Carolina’s “No Promo Homo” policy, the first time such state law has been abolished by a federal court on constitutional grounds.
Gia Parr, she/her, 17. Gia is a GenderCool Project Champion who uses her platform to educate the public about trans youth. In addition to guest starring in season 2 of Pose, she recently released a book titled, “A Kids Book About Being Transgender,” which helps start conversations between children, parents, and families about what it’s like to be a young trans person.
JoJo Siwa, she/her, 18. JoJo is a global popstar and one of the most influential teenagers in the world, with over 45 million social media followers across platforms. Earlier this year, JoJo came out as a member of the LGBTQ community and continues to use her platform to promote necessary messages of LGBTQ acceptance and equality.
Kaylyn Suji Ahn, she/they, 17. Kaylyn is a queer student and activist who organizes monthly projects in their community centered on social justice, advocacy, and community service. Kaylyn spearheaded a “March for Asian Lives” demonstration in Arlington Heights, Illinois to call for an end to anti-Asian hate following the horrific Atlanta shooting in March 2021.
Max Prestigiacomo, he/him, 19. Max is a student, community organizer, and politician who was elected to the Madison Common Council in April 2020, becoming the youngest elected official in the country and the youngest ever to sit on the Madison Common Council. He also became one of the first out LGBTQ candidates ever elected in Madison.
Molly Pinta, she/her, 15. Molly is a bisexual student and activist who founded a nonprofit called The Pinta Pride Project to increase LGBTQ awareness within suburban communities in Illinois. She also launched her town’s first-ever Pride celebration in 2019 and served as the Youth Grand Marshal of the 2019 Chicago Pride Parade.
mxmtoon, she/her, 20. mxmtoon is a bisexual artist, songwriter, actor, designer, and gamer with over 2.9 million social media followers. Well known for playing the ukulele and her unique bedroom pop anthems, including her hit single prom dress, mxmtoon’s music has been streamed over 500 million times across platforms.
Onyx (E. Smith), they/them, 19. Onyx is a Black, queer, non-binary activist who founded the Central Texas GSA Coalition to enhance the impact of GSAs in the Austin, Texas area. They also created a project called Q+ EDU, an interactive virtual experience designed to connect, inform, and empower LGBTQ and allied students, parents, and educators.
Soleil Wheeler a.k.a Ewok, he/him, 15. Ewok is a professional Fortnite player who is part of the FaZe Clan, and recently signed an exclusive streaming deal with Twitch, where he has over 346,000 followers. On National Coming Out Day in 2020, Ewok publicly disclosed that he is transgender and bisexual, becoming the first transgender man in the T1 esports organization.
Stella Keating, she/her, 16. Stella is a GenderCool Project Champion and aspiring politician who made history by becoming the first transgender teen to testify in front of the U.S. Senate when she spoke during a hearing on the Equality Act in March 2021.
Trevor Wilkinson, he/him, 18. Trevor is an openly gay student from Texas who, after being suspended from his high school for wearing nail polish, successfully influenced his school administration to adopt a gender-neutral dress code policy following the launch of a petition signed by over 400,000 supporters.
Ve’ondre Mitchell, she/her, 17. Ve’ondre is a Black and Latinx transgender social media star who uses her platform to amplify conversations about trans inclusion and representation to her more than 3.6 million followers across TikTok and Instagram. In 2021, she was nominated for the first-ever “TikTok Queer Advocate of the Year” award at the 32nd Annual GLAAD Media Awards.
Yasmin Finney, she/they, 17. Yasmin is a rising Black British trans actress who rose to prominence on TikTok with videos sharing her experience as a Black trans woman. She is set to star as the lead role in Orion Pictures’ coming-of-age film What If?, directed by Billy Porter, as well as in Netflix’s upcoming series Heartstopper.
“As a GLAAD board member, I’m so inspired by these 20 individuals who are creating a safer and more inclusive world for LGBTQ+ people,” said Adrienne Hayes, Vice President of Marketing at Google and Co-Global Executive Sponsor of PRIDE at Google. “Across Google, we’re constantly striving to make our products and platforms more inclusive for everyone and I am so proud that Google Pixel could play a role in celebrating these honorees.”
The honorees on GLAAD’s 20 Under 20 list were selected by an internal committee at GLAAD, specializing in LGBTQ entertainment, media, and activism. Honorees were chosen based on the following criteria: 1) The honoree works to positively affect marginalized communities, particularly LGBTQ people; 2) The honoree has been featured in or a part of broad regional or national news media stories, public media campaigns, or other public media initiatives; 3) The honoree enhances representation for LGBTQ people through media advocacy; 4) The honoree utilizes an intersectional approach to LGBTQ advocacy.
GLAAD launched its inaugural 20 Under 20 list in June 2020, featuring model Aaron Philip, rapper Kidd Kenn, actors Ian Alexander, Joshua Rush, Josie Totah, and Logan Rozos, activists X González, Jazz Jennings, Jamie Margolin, and Sarah Rose Huckman, among others. Check out last year’s list here.
GLAAD’s 20 Under 20 honorees gain access to a network of resources made available by the largest LGBTQ media advocacy organization in the world. 20 Under 20 honorees will receive the opportunity to participate in an exclusive live-stream media training hosted by the GLAAD Media Institute. Throughout the year, GLAAD will also help give greater visibility to the 20 Under 20 honorees in the media, including opportunities such as helping to secure media placements, elevating projects on social media, and connecting honorees with unique industry resources for achieving their future goals.
Russian organic grocer VkusVill has pulled its promotional material featuring an LGBT family and replaced it with an apology less than a week after posting it.
Social media users reportedly swarmed VkusVill’s and the same-sex family’s accounts with death threats after their story ran Wednesday as part of a series spotlighting the retail chain’s regular customers. By Sunday, the advertising article’s URL contained a contrite message signed by VkusVill’s founder Andrei Krivenko and senior executives.
“We consider this publication to be our mistake, which was the result of individual employees’ unprofessionalism,” VkusVill wrote in the apology.
It takes a strong Black person to date a white person.
For better or for worse, romantic relationships are a minefield of opportunities to explore Black/white dynamics in America. It works well when the white partner is able to reduce the harm they create and learn from their partner, but it can also be traumatizing for the Black partner to relive life-alienating societal patterns in one of their most intimate relationships.
When a white man is fascinated with my last name, I don’t expect them to know that it reminds me of how my family history has been ill-kept. In fact, the average African American has a quarter of European ancestry, largely introduced through generations of systemic rape under chattel slavery for 400 years.
When a white man may playfully call me a “boy,” I am certain they wouldn’t know that my mom taught me to never let a white person call me that. “Boy” is among the many words that white people have historically used to demonstrate their superiority over Blacks.
When I arrive at a white man’s house or apartment for a date and they keep me waiting on their stoop, I also don’t expect them to know that I’m constantly wondering if their white neighbors think I’m trying to break in. When white people call the police on Black people for waiting outside their actual homes, I must consider these possibilities.
Many white people aren’t maliciously trying to harm their Black partners, but as Robin Di’Angelo taught us in her New York Times bestselling book, White Fragility, white people have many racial blindspots. At the same time, not acknowledging the impact of a race-related conflict could feel excustory, leaving the white person to miss a valuable opportunity to understand and meet the needs of their partner. This could also lead to the Black person feeling resentful. “I didn’t intend to create harm,” has become carte blanche for so many white people to leave the impacts of their words and actions unexamined.
In my experience, many white men – gay or straight – aren’t used to being challenged as much as women and BIPOC folkx are challenged. This may lead to defensiveness. Reluctant to take accountability for his actions, I once had a partner tell me that it was “unusual” and that I was being “petty” for identifying an interaction in which I felt hurt by their actions.
In my own dating, many times a white man has told me, “I think you misunderstood” or “That’s not what I meant,” when I’ve called them out on something that may have been slightly offensive. I’m able to identify the quick dismissal of accountability, and it’s not pretty. To be fair, none of us like the mirror to be held up to our face, especially when we’re feeling really insecure with what others may label us (e.g. racist, bigot, insensitive), but it’s necessary for us to move towards trust and learning, and also deeper intimacy in our relationships.
I truly believe white people when they say they don’t mean to create harm, too.
Navigating sexual desire can also be fraught with problematic statements, too. It’s like the time one white partner tried to assign a monetary value to my butt. He thought it was cute when he didn’t think about it. And also, I’ve written before about comparing Black bodies to chocolate in a sexual way seems innocuous to many white people, yet it objectifies us. After all, nobody asks chocolate if it wants to be eaten. They just eat it. And chocolate is so replaceable. You might think you want chocolate today, but tomorrow you may have decided that pie is better. It’s this kind of thinking that leads white partners to become fascinated with images such as BBC. It’s also this kind of thinking that leads white partners to believe they automatically have the right to touch or play with their partner’s hair, which for so many Black people is more than just hair, it’s a sign of Black pride.
And when a white man that I have only been on one or two dates with doesn’t respond to my text or puts me through the typical non-sense games that plague any person who’s actively dating, I bet they don’t consider that this might trigger my own insecurities around my self-worth and value — insecurities that are perpetuated by a world that hypnotizes us to devalue Black beauty. “Do they not like me because I am Black?” is a question I’m sure every Black person has asked themselves in some context at some point in their lives.
Why would they know these things? It’s not their fault that the world is organized in a way that these experiences are not visible for them. Sometimes it’s possible to be guilty and innocent at the same time; the innocence creates the guilt. Absence of awareness, doesn’t erase the factors at play, however. But now the tides are turning, and it’s no longer “acceptable” to just “not know” about the factors at play.
These are just a few examples. There’s actually a whole realm of studies related to decolonizing our sex lives. I’m not sure if white folks realize that as with all things in our unequal society, dating is harder for Black lives, too. I’ve dated plenty to say that I’m not sure most white men can really hold space for the most tender parts of my Blackness.
For example, the lead up to the Derek Chauvin trial, the trial itself, and awaiting the verdict was an especially stressful time for me. It’s something I manage better now that I have been exposed to more and more injustice in the world, but still I haven’t become used to them. So many of my Black friends anticipated a not guilty verdict. We’re too familiar with these cases. It’s in these moments, where I know so much of the Black community is feeling a lot, that I think about my Black brothers and sisters out there that are partnered to white folks. I just hope their white partner is able to hold the space for them if they need it. Because while justice was somewhat delivered and Derek Chauvin was found guilty, the pain and suffering for the Black community will continue.
If you’re white, and partnered to a Black person, please consider this advice:
Set aside time with your partner to learn about each other’s implicit biases. Taking a free assessment such as one through Project Implicit may give couples really interesting data to start that conversation together.
Some relationship gurus call it contracting or developing personal user guides, but essentially the premise is the same: develop an understanding of each other’s perspectives and needs, perhaps with the help of a relationship counselor, to establish some norms and agreements for how you will navigate the sensitive parts of the relationship. You could also discuss preferred ways of resolving conflicts. Did you know about the Five Apology Languages?
Actively and continually engage in learning, using books such as White Fragility or Blindspot or a memoir by a Black author. Spice things up and maybe read to each other in bed, if your partner is willing. Attending Black history museums, art exhibits, and community and cultural events are also a meaningful way to learn together, as well.
These are some of my thoughts, but not the definitive experience of interracial dating. Share your thoughts and stories in the comments on social media when you share this article!
Coming out is undoubtedly part of the essence of contemporary queer culture. It represents a point in one’s journey to complete self-actualization where they fully accept themselves, their body, and also demand to occupy space in an insidiously cis-heternormative world.
This concept/journey has become such a treasured part of queerness, so much so that National Coming Out Day is celebrated every year on Oct. 11, not only to commemorate the 1979 National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights which demanded civil rights and legislation for LGBTQ people, but to also allow queer people to be visible, unabashedly live in their truths, and inspire others who may be fearful to do likewise.
On this day, millions of people around the world take to social media to pen heartfelt posts that usually include a picture of the individual (most probably displaying some iteration of a Pride flag) coupled with a paragraph about their journey “living in the closet” and how they’re elated to be free. By letting the world know that they aren’t afraid to fully be themselves, queer people are claiming space where their presence has intentionally been ignored.
Albeit the power of “coming out” has to accent personal self-autonomy and challenge the pervasive nature of gender and sexual conformity, it ultimately does what queer liberation exists in contrast to: Appeasing cis-heternormative culture, or quite simply, making cis-straight (to be loosely referred to as “straight” for the rest of this piece) people feel comfortable.
When LGBTQ people come out, they participate in a kind of performance that requires them to explain themselves to straight people. Queer people dig deep into their past experiences, which are often traumatic struggles, and in the process present what often translates into a chronology of why straight people should accept them, and more importantly, be “comfortable” with them. This is wrong.
Queerness should never center on straightness or straight feelings. By giving attention to straight people in queer journeys, we relegate undeserved power to straight people and allow for them to feel as if they need to be placated.
Contemporary coming out culture indirectly uplifts what we are so vehemently fighting against — practices that prioritize being straight over being queer. So, as we continue to come out, employers will feel as if they have the right to know of one’s queer identity and terminate their employment upon learning of it.
Parents will demand to know of their children’s identity to “protect” them, which has more to do with managing their own appearances rather than caring for and empowering their queer children.
Friends and acquaintances will fight tooth and nail to decipher one’s queerness so they can gauge what this entails for their personal and religious beliefs, and ultimately whether the friendship should continue because they feel as if they may be courted by their queer friend (which mostly likely will never happen), thereby unsettling their perception of themselves.
Random strangers may also physically abuse and/or kill someone who reveals their sexual and/or gender identity on the basis of feeling as if they’ve been “lied” to or intentionally deceived.
So, if coming out is not the serve we think it is, then how to LGBTQ people live in their truth and show the world it’s okay to be queer? Well, the answer is simple: The culture surrounding gender and sexuality must change.
With regards to gender, we must get rid of both the “sex” and “gender” markers. Sex, in simple terms, refers to the genitals you were born with. Gender is the norms and behaviors that your parents and community around you project on you based on your sex.
Time and again, it has become clear that, sex and gender simply cannot exist in binaries (yes, there are people who are born with both a penis and vagina simultaneously, or even neither.) The culture we function under has prescribed behaviors to people with certain genitals and expectations to people who identify with either of the two genders. This should stop.
When it comes to health, medical professionals should be able to care for patients adequately and efficiently if they conceive of a person’s sexual organs as just being and not in relation to society’s faulty prescriptions. You might ask, what does this mean for science and research? Well, we can be inclusive in medical research by drawing on the experiences of all possible sex identities instead of just narrowing it down to just male/female. Intersex people exist too!
We should also abolish the notion of gender. When children are born, we should raise them as non-binary. Non-binary identity is the pinnacle of liberation because it rebels from the traditional boxes that confine identities. It allows people to be whoever they want, whenever, and on their own accord.
By encouraging children to socialize into nonbinary identity, we allow them to fully discover who they are and allow them to exist at any point in the identity spectrum without feeling the pressure to contort into a specific, one-dimensional mold of behavior. There is no one way to be anything. Identity is subjective and shifts and changes with time. Let children grow into themselves without being told from an early age that there’s a right and wrong way to be.
We should also set boundaries on how to have conversations about sexuality. Oftentimes, the people most interested in a person’s sexuality have no business knowing about it. Sexuality and sex is intimate, and therefore, people should respect that boundary. What someone does during intercourse and with whom they do it should be no one’s business. It should have no repercussions on one’s social capital. Quite frankly, with whom someone sleeps affects no one but themself and the sexual partners involved. You won’t die if your friend didn’t tell you they slept with someone who has the same genitals as them. Your company won’t go bankrupt if your employee doesn’t disclose that they’re transgender.
We should move past caring about representation and work towards actualizing our liberation. Representation is good; it is important to see yourself reflected in society. However, representation is not the end goal.
We should work to give poor queer people access to stable food, shelter and money. We should push for more queer-friendly mental health facilities. We should establish free universal healthcare that allows transgender individuals to medically transition at little to no cost. We should actively become anti-racist and create an environment where queer people of color never have to live under the shadow of racism.
Finally, we must stop worrying about straight people. The truth is, no matter how much we may try to create space for ourselves at a straight table, we’ll never be truly welcome. If we want to liberate ourselves we have to center ourselves, experiences and feelings. We have to fashion our own tables.
Appealing to straight people will never bring the acceptance and freedom we yearn so much for. If anything, it places us in an unending cycle where queerness is othered and never the norm enough for it to not matter.
So should queer people stop coming out? Not necessarily. However, it is imperative that we create a world where queerness is normal enough that we don’t need to come out.
Lebanon’s queer communities have few safe spaces left and have been among the hardest hit by the combined impacts of the 2020 Beirut blast, the COVID-19 pandemic, and the ongoing economic crisis, new Oxfam research warned today. The combination of crises has destroyed entire neighborhoods where queer people had found refuge over the last decade.
The report, “Queer Community in Crisis: Trauma, Inequality & Vulnerability,” is one of the first studies conducted in Lebanon to understand the impact of the multi-layered crises facing the LGBTQI community and their unique needs. Oxfam interviewed 101 individuals, civil society organizations and informal aid groups, an urban planner, and business owners in the areas affected by the blast. The research found 70% of those surveyed lost jobs in the past year, compared to an unemployment rate of 40% among the total workforce. Almost half said they had relied on family support and humanitarian aid to make ends meet.
The LGBTQI community in Lebanon is facing a housing crisis: 41% of LGBTQ individuals cannot pay their rent, and 58% reported that their homes were damaged in the blast. 35% were forced to relocate or change their living arrangements, 39% do not have a safe living space, and a further 11% had been forced back with their families where many said they faced abusive, unsafe or unaccepting environments. Others were forced to move to overcrowded houses where they faced physical and mental health problems from the Coronavirus.
Overall, nearly 73% of survey respondents said that their mental health has worsened to a large extent due to the three-layered crisis.
Nizar Aouad, Oxfam in Lebanon’s Gender Advisor, said the Beirut blast and the subsequent reconstruction efforts could have devastating structural and cultural repercussions for the queer community.
“The blast has been the final straw for LGBTQI people in Beirut. It destroyed whatever safe spaces were left in the city. The city’s reconstruction efforts will likely lead to gentrification, making the areas unaffordable to its current residents,” said Aouad. “Swathes of neighborhoods are set to become less accessible to queer individuals because of high rent and the destruction of already limited public spaces and venues that catered for them. We fear the loss of cultural diversity in Beirut.”
The discrimination and lack of social acceptance that queer people, especially transgender people, face in Lebanon correlate with fewer opportunities for them to make a living. Trans people who face systemic and longstanding barriers to formal education and employment are often forced to work in low-income jobs in the informal sector. Many of them are forced into sex work to make ends meet. During the pandemic, many informal businesses struggled to survive and demand for sex work services sharply decreased, making an already dire situation even worse.
One interviewee noted: “We don’t have safe spaces to exist. We are stifled from all angles. We can’t go out, we can’t work, and we can’t receive proper support.”
Queer refugees, who have been struggling for years under legal restrictions that bar them from the formal job market and limit their mobility, also found in this crisis another burden. The research shows a huge and pressing need to rebuild queer-friendly spaces and create new ones in Beirut. However the government of Lebanon has shown little interest doing so.
Oxfam calls on the government to prioritize the reconstruction of safe spaces for the queer community and offer basic assistance, including cash, shelter, and access to services, to those who are not included in current aid projects. Oxfam urges Lebanese authorities to decriminalize homosexuality and ensure all members of the community have equal rights.
“Queer people in Lebanon are systematically discriminated against and have been denied equal access to general healthcare and mental healthcare services for far too long. There must be a focus on the impact of the current crises on their mental and physical wellbeing, so that their opportunities to recover are equal to their cis-hetero counterparts,” said Aouad.
75% of survey respondents said that their mental health was negatively impacted to a large extent due to the three-layered crisis. 62% respondents reported increased exposure to violence in their current houses. 48% reported inability to access support systems. 39% reported not being able to access safe spaces. 46% reported great difficulties accessing general healthcare services.
On August 4, 2020, Lebanon was ravaged by a disastrous blast in Beirut’s port, resulting in over 200 deaths and 6500 injuries, and causing massive destruction over a 10 kilometers radius from the explosion site. The areas most severely affected by the Beirut Blast, particularly the neighborhoods of Mar Mikhael, Gemmayze, and Achrafieh, were known for their reputation as the most queer-friendly neighborhoods in Beirut.
Lebanon is facing its most precarious economic crisis since the end of the civil war in 1990. Since 2019, the Lebanese Lira has devalued by more than 85 percent and unemployment has reached a record high, leading to economic recession, high inflation, leading to, devastating social conditions.
Oxfam has been working in Lebanon since 1993. We provide humanitarian assistance to vulnerable people affected by conflict, and we promote economic development, promotion of good governance at a local and national level, and women’s rights through our work with partners. Oxfam also works with local partners to contribute to the protection and empowerment of marginalized women and men. Oxfam in Lebanon works on active citizenship and good governance, economic justice, and humanitarian programs.
To respond to the impact of the blast Oxfam is working with 11 partners to deliver emergency support including distribution of food parcels and the provision of emergency and temporary cash assistance, household rehabilitation, legal assistance and consultation, psycho-social support, and medication. The services are provided to families and individuals in the affected areas including women, girls, LGBTQI community members, people with disabilities, and migrant workers.
Britton Hamilton said, as a trans man, he wanted to become a police officer to help promote change from the inside.
He applied to the New Orleans Police Department in June 2020, and after several exams and a panel interview, he received a conditional job offer in December.
“It was like a dream job,” Hamilton said. “I want to be able to help the community and help people to view police officers differently than how they are feeling now.”
The offer was conditional on him passing a routine medical and psychological evaluation, during which he said the psychologist asked him questions about his transition.
On Jan. 26, he received an email from the police department rescinding the conditional offer “based on a psychological assessment” of his “emotional and behavioral” characteristics.
“It was super, super disappointing, because I prepared myself physically, emotionally for this job,” Hamilton said. “This is the foundation for me and my family.”
In May, Hamilton filed a federal complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission alleging hiring discrimination. His attorney, Chelsea Cusimano, said the EEOC has since opened an investigation.
The New Orleans Police Department issued a statement in May.
“The decision not to move forward with the applicant in question did not involve any discrimination against the individual as a member of a protected group,” the statement read in full.
The department declined additional comment.
Hamilton’s experience isn’t unique, said Julie Callahan, a former law enforcement officer in San Jose, California, and the founder of the Transgender Community of Police and Sheriffs, a peer support group for trans law enforcement officers. Trans people face disproportionate employment discrimination generally, and she said law enforcement, which she described as a relatively conservative field, is no exception.
TCOPS is trying to do its part by providing training and policy templates to departments in the hopes that this educational material can help address the biases and misinformation that lead to discrimination. But outside of that, it’s incredibly difficult for trans people to prove they’ve faced hiring discrimination. Even if they can, many can’t afford to take legal action.
Complicating matters is the historically fraught relationship between law enforcement and the LGBTQ community. This has caused some transgender officers — many of whom are trying to address inequities from within — to face pressure from both sides.
“It’s an ongoing issue that we have to address as a society,” Callahan said of the hiring discrimination trans law enforcement officers face. “We’re starting to see agencies that are developing transgender interaction policies with the public, but they’re not developing policies like this for their employees, and we find that ridiculous. You should be doing both, because you’re going to have people from the community working or at least trying to get jobs at your agency.”
‘That’s not equal protection of the law’
Hamilton alleged that the psychologist who did his evaluation asked him questions like, “What were the names of your doctors that performed your surgery? How does your family feel about you being transgender? How does your wife feel about you being transgender?”
“I felt like it was kind of weird because … it doesn’t pertain to the duties of being a police officer at all,” Hamilton said. The psychologist, who is named in Hamilton’s complaint, has not returned a request for comment.
As part of standard procedure, the department asked Hamilton for information about his employment over the last 10 years.
After the psychological evaluation, Hamilton said the department asked for documentation outside of the standard 10-year window related to his honorable discharge from the Army 12 years ago due to medical issues, according to his EEOC complaint. Hamilton provided part of the medical discharge records signed by himself, his commanding officer and a physician stating why he was discharged. The department asked for his complete Army medical record, which Hamilton requested from the National Personnel Records Center for military personnel, according to his complaint. The documents were delayed due to the Covid-19 pandemic, so Hamilton also provided the department with the tracking number for his request.
The department rescinded the conditional offer the day after it requested additional documentation related to his honorable discharge, according to Hamilton’s complaint.
After the department rescinded the offer, Hamilton said he contacted his uncle, who has been a police officer for more than 30 years in Chicago.
“The first thing he said was, ‘That doesn’t even sound right; something definitely is up,’” Hamilton recalled.
After hearing Hamilton’s story, Cusimano said the questions that the psychologist allegedly asked him were red flags.
“I just don’t see, at the end of the day, under any reasonable standard, how you get to ask these questions of protected class members when you’re not asking them of members of the straight community applying for the same positions,” Cusimano said. “That’s not equal protection of the law.”
She also noted that Hamilton applied for the job just a few days after the Supreme Court ruled in June 2020 that LGBTQ people are protected from employment discrimination under federal law. Hamilton’s case, she said, is an evolution of that Supreme Court decision.
“Now that the LGBTQ community is a protected class, what are those protections?” she said. “Acting reasonably, should an employer have understood — and I say, certainly — that those protections extend to the equal hiring process, as well as all processes related to employment?”
‘The phone call never came’
Patrick Callahan, Julie Callahan’s husband, a member of TCOPS and a criminology consultant for the federal government and political groups in Washington, D.C., said he had a similar experience to Hamilton’s.
In 2006, he had a promising interview with an agency outside of Boston. The person he interviewed with “was thrilled” and said he’d call him back that Monday, Patrick Callahan recalled.
“Well, the phone call never came,” he said. “So Tuesday I gave him a call. He wouldn’t take my call. In fact, I was never able to get in contact with him again.”
He said he found out through a friend who knew officers who worked for the department that he wasn’t hired because he’s trans.
“As soon as they got my background check back and saw those female names,” they changed their minds, he said. His friend told him it was “a joke around the department, that some ‘it thing’ wanted to work there.”
Officer Kathryn Winters, the LGBTQ liaison at the San Francisco Police Department, suspects she was the victim of a similar instance of anti-trans employment discrimination, though she was never able to confirm this.
In 2014, she applied to the Denton Police Department in Texas and took its written exam.
“I think I scored in like the top five on the written exam,” she said, noting that the scores are posted publicly. “And then a couple weeks later, [I] received a letter from the Denton Police Department stating that my military discharge form, my DD 214, wasn’t in my background packet. And for that reason, I was being completely disqualified for further consideration.”
She said she and her wife both double- and triple-checked to make sure everything was included in the application packet, including the DD Form 214, prior to its submission. She said “there’s nothing specific to indicate” that she was rejected because she’s trans, but she believes someone may have removed the form from her packet “and that was the reason they gave for not continuing with my consideration.”
A request for comment from the Denton Police Department has not been returned.
There have also been other high-profile cases of alleged anti-trans discrimination by law enforcement agencies. In 2012, Mia Macy, represented by the Transgender Law Center, successfully sued the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives after the agency offered her a job as a ballistics technician and then rescinded the job offer after she told them she was trans.
Clinicians ‘may lack the competency’
As lawsuits slowly accumulate and more people transition on the job, the culture within agencies is slowly changing, Julie Callahan said. Throughout its existence, TCOPS has seen more than 500 officers transition, she added. Trans officers have also made headlines over the last few years for being among the first in their agencies.
But supportive policies for current officers and applicants aren’t growing equally across the country. Agencies in bigger cities are more likely to have better policies, Julie Callahan said, meaning more conservative or rural areas might lack basic information about trans people, which can affect whether they’ll hire them at all.
There also aren’t clear, consistent standards across the country for how clinicians conduct psychological evaluations for law enforcement. Michael Roberts and Ryan Roberts, co-owners of Law Enforcement Psychological Services Inc., have evaluated many LGBTQ law enforcement applicants in San Francisco. They said the guidance, regulations and required continuing education for clinicians who conduct evaluations differs by state. California is among the most well-regulated states, they said.
“Police and public safety psychological assessment is a component of a specialty practice as recognized by the APA,” Michael Roberts said, referring to the American Psychological Association, “so this isn’t something that any clinician should be doing without training specific to this.”
There are laws interwoven into the process of doing psychological assessments for law enforcement candidates, such as the Americans With Disabilities Act, which someone could “run afoul of” while evaluating a trans candidate’s medical records, for example, he said.
“It is the case that people are out there — they’re probably not doing it correctly. They may be doing it without specialized training, which they shouldn’t be doing. They might lack the competency to perform the specialty function,” Ryan Roberts said.
A transgender applicant shouldn’t be disqualified simply for having been diagnosed in the past with gender dysphoria — a diagnosis that is often necessary to receive certain medical treatment, according to Michael Roberts.
“You cannot use just the fact that they had gender dysphoria or they attempted suicide five years ago or something like that. That wouldn’t cut it; they have to dig down deeper,” he said.
Given the allegations in Hamilton’s case, he said, it sounds like that’s what the psychologist did.
Julie Callahan said she knows of trans law enforcement candidates who were disqualified for past suicidal ideation, which 81 percent of trans adults have reported experiencing, according to the 2015 U.S. Transgender Survey.
Many therapists who are evaluating law enforcement candidates “don’t understand that once you’ve dealt with your gender issues, any kind of suicidal ideation has gone away, because you’ve removed the impetus for it,” she said.
‘We’re in an untenable position as transgender cops’
Another barrier to better policy for trans officers and prospective officers is the broader conversation about criminal justice reform, which is happening alongside recent efforts to ban law enforcement at Pride parades, Patrick Callahan said.
Trans people disproportionately face violence and mistreatment from law enforcement, leading advocates to push for reform or, in some cases, for replacing law enforcement agencies with social support services and other community-led, violence-prevention efforts.
According to a 2011 report from the National Center for Transgender Equality, nearly half of trans people reported they are uncomfortable seeking police assistance. More than one-fifth (22 percent) of trans people who had interacted with police reported police harassment, and 6 percent of trans individuals reported they experienced bias-motivated assault by officers. Those rates were higher for Black transgender people: 38 percent reported that they faced biased harassment, and 15 percent reported assault motivated by bias.
Patrick Callahan said most LGBTQ rights groups see trans officers as the “enemy,” and they “don’t speak to us at all,” even though trans officers face the same discrimination and harassment as trans people in other fields.
“They shut us out automatically, because we’ve crossed a line somewhere,” he said. “We are not trans enough anymore. We are not LGBTQ enough anymore … and we get the same from people within the law enforcement community. Right now, we’re in an untenable position as transgender cops. Actually, anybody in the LGBTQ community who is law enforcement, we’re just in a position where we can’t affect change, because we aren’t being allowed to even by the very people that we would most like to help.”
For Hamilton, things are also moving slowly. Cusimano said it could take up to a year for the Louisiana EEOC to complete its investigation. But Hamilton said the experience hasn’t affected his goals.
“I still want to work in law enforcement,” he said. “At the beginning, I’m not going to lie, I was super, super disappointed, especially disappointed with NOPD. But this is still a dream of mine.”
A judge in Texas who refused to marry same-sex couples has had her lawsuit against the state agency that oversees judicial misconduct thrown out of court. She filed the lawsuit in late 2019 after the agency warned her she needed to change her ways or stop officiating weddings.
Justice of the Peace Dianne Hensley works in Waco, McLellan County. A devout Christian, she filed a class-action lawsuit to enable her, and other justices of the peace in the state, to decline to marry same-sex couples.
She was backed by the First Liberty Institute, an organization that has helped others to fight to express their religious beliefs. The lawsuit, against the State Commission on Judicial Conduct, was moved to Travis County last year.
On Monday, the Waco Tribune-Herald reported that Judge Jan Soifer threw the case out of court.
Soifer ruled the State Commission on Judicial Conduct had sovereign and statutory immunity from the claims. She also said Hensley had failed to exhaust other legal avenues before filing her action.
SCOTUS ruled in 2015 that same-sex couples could marry across the US. Some officiants and judges have stepped down from performing marriage ceremonies because they believe having to wed gay couples goes against their religious beliefs.
In fact, it was reported last summer that all but one of the other five McLennan County justices of the peace have stopped doing weddings since the Supreme Court decision.
In Texas, officiating weddings is an optional duty for justices of the peace. Performing them can help those officiating to earn thousands of dollars in extra income.
Between August 2016 and late 2019, Hensley conducted over 300 wedding ceremonies, all for opposite-sex couples. Hensley earned around $25,000 for these duties, according to the Houston Chronicle.
If her office was approached by any same-sex couples, they were given a document explaining her reasoning for declining and providing a list of others who could perform the ceremony.
Hensley made her opposition to marrying gay couples public knowledge. In 2017, she told local news station 25 News KXXV, “I have no desire to offend anybody, but the last person I want to offend is God.”
Hensley’s suit was seeking $10,000 in damages for the money she claims she lost while the commission investigated her. She also wanted a ruling allowing her to continue to refuse to marry same-sex couples. In throwing out the case, Judge Soifer also ordered Hensley to pay court costs associated with her lawsuit.
An investigation has unearthed worrying evidence in the case of Mhelody Bruno, a trans Filipino woman who was strangled to death by a former Royal Australian Air Force corporal.
Bruno died on 21 September, 2019, in Wagga Wagga, Australia after being choked during sex
Her killer, Rian Ross Toyer, 33, initially walked free despite pleading guilty to her death due to a sentencing error.
In March 2021, after outrage from activists that Toyer was allowed to escape a prison term, the judge was forced to reopen the case and ultimately sentenced him to 22 months.
Details about the days before her death, which were not before the judge who sentenced her, reveal that Bruno, 25, was fully clothed when paramedics arrived, had made several out-of-character video calls with an unnamed man the night before she died, and that nurses saw bruises and marks on her body before she died in hospital that were not accounted for or mentioned in the coroners report.
One friend, interviewed by police after Bruno’s death, said that he received a video call from Bruno’s phone the night before she was strangled. A man was “extremely angry and yelling” and saying he would “rape Mhelody and give her AIDS”, the friend told police – but this call, and other messages sent from her phone that night, never made it to the courtroom.
The new information comes from an investigation by ABC News, an Australian media outlet, which also asked a former Supreme Court judge to review the journalists’ findings. He said that in light of the new information, “There is certainly an argument to say that a miscarriage of justice may have occurred here”.
“Unfortunately, we don’t know enough about all the detail, we’re commenting on bits and pieces as it were, but they are all pretty important bits and pieces,” said former Supreme Court Judge Anthony Whealy, who oversaw some of NSW’s most high-profile criminal trials, after reviewing the information gather by ABC.
Whealey continued: “And putting them all together I think at the very least you could say they reveal this was a much more serious manslaughter than the judge envisaged it to be.”
He added: “Has justice been done? Well there must be a question mark over that.”
The court heard during Toyer’s trial that Bruno had not requested to be choked but also that she had not asked for the choking to stop.
oyer lost his job in the air force after Bruno’s death, which Lerve took into account when sentencing him. Toyer also received a 25 per cent discount on his sentence for pleading guilty. In the end, he was sentenced to 22 months’ imprisonment for the manslaughter of Mhelody Bruno, 25, whom he killed while engaging in an act of erotic asphyxia.
Superintendent Noble, who runs the Wagga Wagga police station, says police were interested to learn Bruno was found fully dressed but “ultimately a narrative was presented to the court that they had engaged in sex that morning”.
“Ultimately you can only prove what you can prove and you can’t prove what the evidence doesn’t substantiate,” he said.
“That is OK to do as a lay person but ultimately prosecutors and, in this case, [the judge], had to make a finding and a sentence, and inconvenient pieces of information that may be difficult to reconcile in one’s mind don’t necessarily constitute grounds for a different finding.”
Most people associate microdosing with their artist friend who chews on a minuscule amount of mushrooms before painting or the Silicon Valley tech-bro who lists their LSD-laced coffee as the key to their success. Method aside, people say that enhancing their days with a sprinkling of psychedelics lets them be themselves, just better.
Non-binary and transgender people have also adopted microdosing in pursuit of their most authentic selves. Their drug of choice: hormones.
For decades, transgender people have used gender-affirming hormone therapy (GAHT) to alleviate their gender dysphoria. The most common usage has been for transgender people of binary identity who want to transition from masculine to feminine (MTF) or feminine to masculine (FTM). Up until recently, the health care system rooted in Western binary thinking only supported medical transition from one gender to the opposite, A to B.
In more visual terms, there are as many people who disregard the gender binary as the entire population of Miami (about half a million people). And this doesn’t include the transgender people who weren’t included in the survey because of reasons like homelessness or citizenship status.
Microdosing hormones, also called low-dose GAHT, allows many non-binary-identifying people to achieve more subtle characteristics. Taking estrogen for gender feminization will increase breast growth, reduce body and facial hair growth, and soften the skin. Taking testosterone will emphasize gender masculinization in the form of increased muscle mass, deepening of the voice, and facial and body hair growth.
This slow-and-low approach is what drew 22-year old Reddit user, subspacehipster, to start low-dose testosterone GAHT.
They started researching hormone replacement therapy in middle school and familiarized themselves with the expected changes. But the idea of any sort of change scared them.
“I liked the appeal of starting more slowly so that I could better adjust to the changes,” they said. They also knew that they wouldn’t be on hormones forever, making the microdosing option all the more appealing.
Low-dose GAHT itself is not a new phenomenon. Many binary transgender people who begin their transition will start with lower doses of hormones and slowly build up to a full-dose amount that maximizes the development of secondary sex characteristics.
The doctor that subspacehipster saw knew about this type of binary transition. What she didn’t quite understand was non-binary folks transitioning.
“It was just clear that she didn’t get it,” subspacehipster said. She had worked with several binary transgender people whom subspacehipter knew. They were one of the doctor’s first non-binary trans patients.
She wasn’t able to get past equating non-binary to androgynous, which was not the explanation that subspacehipster used, but it was “close enough I didn’t correct her.”
Despite the gap in understanding, they still see the doctor because she respects the dosage that subspacehipster has chosen and hasn’t tried to change it.
It’s rare to find doctors that will support low-dose GAHT because hormone therapy in itself is built to be an all-or-nothing practice in the U.S. healthcare system. Even for providers offering gender-affirming care, the standard set out by the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH) is based on binary folks interested in fully transitioning.
But that didn’t fit the path that Reddit user Sarah Valentine wanted in their gender-affirming journey. They began considering GAHT as a way to feel more comfortable in their body and thought that low-dose would be a good place to start.
“I quickly found that the health care system in the U.S. was not amenable to that kind of experimentation, with most prescribers unwilling to follow an informed consent model,” they said.
In the U.S., those looking to start hormone replacement therapy must often obtain a letter from a licensed mental health therapist affirming the patient has gender dysphoria. In other words, that they really are transgender. With an informed consent model, the letter is not needed and the individual can seek out gender-affirming care on their terms. New transgender healthcare startups FOLX Health and Plumeemphasize this way of putting the power back into the patient’s hands. San Francisco AIDS Foundation providers with the TransCare program also prescribe hormones based on an individual’s own goals.
Finding a non-binary-affirming therapist alone was a challenge for Valentine. After numerous phone calls, they finally found the person that would write the letter.
The therapist knew how frustrating this type of medical gatekeeping was and just asked one question of Valentine, “Are you transgender?”
“Yes,” they said and the letter of support was signed, sealed, and delivered to the doctor.
In the meeting with their physician, Valentine explained that they were not a binary trans person and not interested in transitioning. Instead, they wanted to be somewhere in the middle.
“I’m more interested in the psychological changes that GAHT can provide versus the physical effects,” they mentioned.
The mental benefits of GAHT are not as discussed as the physical, given the adjacency of this treatment to gender-affirming surgeries. However, for many non-cisgender folks, hormones can relieve the inner anxiety, depression, and frustrations that constitute gender dysphoria.
The dosage for estrogen and anti-androgens that Valentine started on were low enough where there wouldn’t be much significant anatomical change. But mentally, they felt a clear difference.
“The process of thinking my thoughts felt different. I would still have the same thoughts, but the way they would form and move through my consciousness was different,” they said.
Similarly, for emotions, they found themselves experiencing a feeling more often than before. The emotions were also more ephemeral and vivid at the same time, they said. “They had more immediacy to them like they were closer to me than they were before.”
They liken taking hormones to having that first cup of coffee or tea in the morning or putting premium gasoline in their car after having run on the cheap stuff before.
“It feels right, like this is the hormone level I was always designed to run on,” said Valentine.
There’s also a feeling of empowerment that comes with making a decision to take a step in affirming your own gender. There’s risk involved and some of the changes are irreversible, but taking control of your narrative is one of the most powerful actions to support your own identity.
Ultimately, microdose/low-dose GAHT is unique to each individual and the developments they seek in their gender affirmation. One thing to note: Just because the dosage is low doesn’t mean that certain effects won’t happen.
“Low-dose T isn’t some androgynous, less manly version of T,” said subspacehipster.
Transitioning or exploring the gender binary looks different for everyone. Hormones can be part of this journey, but they shouldn’t dictate how “manly” or “womanly” a person is. Now, with increased accessibility to hormones and more transgender and non-binary-affirming providers, trying out GAHT is easier than ever.