A Lakota two-spirit person was found dead of gunshot wounds outside Rapid City, South Dakota in August. Acey Morrison, 30, was among at least 30 trans or gender-nonconforming people to die in violent circumstances in the U.S. in 2022.
Morrison’s murder was reported early Sunday morning, August 21, by the owner of the mobile home she occupied in the Country Village Estates RV park.
Morrison came from a large family in South Dakota and Nebraska and worked at the local Walmart and Sam’s Club.
In a tribute published in Native Sun News Today, her family wrote: “Acey was what we call our two-spirit relative. To those she held in her heart and to those who held her in their hearts, seeing her in her wholeness.
“She always had her natural ways in being there for those she loved. She used laughter as medicine and chose self-love to heal wounds. She was the one to open her home up to you, give you her lasts, then inspire you to keep going, ‘this too shall pass.’”
“We will remember her as who she was to each of us: authentic, and unapologetic.”
The Human Rights Campaign reported 50 violent fatalities among trans and gender non-conforming people in 2021, including those who identified as two-spirit. The 2015 U.S. Transgender Survey indicates American Indian and Alaskan Native experienced a physical attack at more than twice the rate of all U.S. respondents, 19% to 9%.
A 2021 report by the Sovereign Bodies Institute and the California Rural Indian Health Board revealed among a small population of Native LGBTQ2S+ people, 90% reported experiencing two or more forms of violence.
Morrison’s family tribute ended: “She navigated this life through her big dreamer eyes and was always headed for the brighter days. So with that, we will remember her as who she was on her brightest days. We wish her healing and that our love be with her on her journey to the other side.”
Just hours after a Montana judge blocked health officials from enforcing a state rule that would prevent transgender people from changing the gender on their birth certificate, the Republican-run state on Thursday said it would defy the order.
District Court Judge Michael Moses chided attorneys for the state during a hearing in Billings for circumventing his April order that temporarily blocked a 2021 Montana law that made it harder to change birth certificates.
Moses said there was no question that state officials violated his earlier order by creating the new rule. Moses said his order reinstates a 2017 Department of Public Health and Human Services rule that allowed people to update the gender on their birth certificate by filing an affidavit with the department.
However, the state said it would disregard the ruling.
“The Department thoroughly evaluated the judge’s vague April 2022 decision and crafted our final rule to be consistent with the decision. It’s unfortunate that the judge’s ruling today does not square with his vague April decision,” said Charlie Brereton, director of the Department of Public Health and Human Services.
Brereton said the agency was keeping the rule it issued last week in place and an agency spokesperson said the department is waiting to see the judge’s written order before considering its next steps.
ACLU attorney Malita Picasso expressed dismay with the agency’s stance and said officials should immediately start processing requests for birth certificate changes.
“It’s shocking that after this morning’s hearing the department would allege there was any lack of clarity in the court’s ruling from the bench,” Picasso said. “It was very clear that Judge Moses expressly required a reversion to the 2017 policy, and anything short of that is a continued flagrant violation of the court’s order.”
Such open defiance of judge’s order is very unusual from a government agency, said Carl Tobias, a former University of Montana Law School professor now at the University of Richmond. When officials disagree with a ruling, the typical response is to appeal to a higher court, he said.
“Appeal is what you contemplate — not that you can nullify a judge’s orders. Otherwise, people just wouldn’t obey the law,” Tobias said. “The system can’t work that way.”′
The move could leave state officials open to contempt of court charges, which in some cases can lead to jail time for offenders, Tobias said. He added that the attorneys representing the state were likely aware of the potential consequences but were “caught in the middle” between a recalcitrant agency and the judge.
The legal dispute comes as conservative lawmakers in numerous states have sought to restrict transgender rights, including with bans on transgender girls competing in girls school sports.
The Montana law said people had to have a “surgical procedure” before they could change the sex listed on their birth certificate, something Moses found to be unconstitutional because it did not specify what type of procedure was required.
Gov. Greg Gianforte’s administration then created a new rule that blocked changes to birth certificates entirely, unless there was a clerical error.
Moses said during Thursday morning’s hearing that his April ruling had been “clear as a bell” and compared the state’s subsequent actions to a person twice convicted of assault who tries to change their name following a third accusation to avoid a harsher punishment.
“Isn’t that exactly what happened here?” Moses asked. “I’m a bit offended the department thinks they can do anything they want.”
One of the plaintiffs in the case, Amelia Marquez, said she was disgusted by the state’s response.
“We have people that think that they’re above the law and don’t have to listen to the judiciary branch of our government,” she said.
After learning the state planned to defy the court order, Shawn Reagor with the Montana Human Rights Network said the organization “will not stand by while the Gianforte administration blatantly disregards rulings from the courts to continue a vindictive attack on the trans community.”
Only Tennessee, Oklahoma and West Virginia have sweeping prohibitions against birth certificate changes similar to what Montana has pursued, advocates for transgender rights say. Bans in Idaho and Ohio were struck down in 2020.
A Republican lawmaker who voted in favor of the 2021 law suggested Moses was biased in favor of the plaintiffs in the case. Moses was appointed to the court by former Gov. Steve Bullock, a Democrat.
“Like clockwork, Judge Moses issued yet another predetermined order in favor of liberal plaintiffs without thoroughly engaging with the legal issues at hand,” Sen. Greg Hertz of Polson said in a statement.
The ACLU of Montana had asked Moses to clarify his order after the state health department enacted its new temporary rule effectively banning birth certificate changes a month after Moses handed down his temporary injunction in the case. That rule was made permanent last week.
The state argued the injunction did not prevent the health department from making rules, but Moses said under case law the injunction reinstated the 2017 rules and any other changes are on hold while the case is decided.
State officials denied that the new rule preventing birth certificate changes was adopted in bad faith. Montana Assistant Solicitor Kathleen Smithgall said the state came up with the new rule to fill a gap in regulations after the 2021 law was blocked.
“Judge Moses mischaracterized the words of his own order, the parties’ motives, and the state of the law,” said Kyler Nerison, a spokesperson for Attorney General Austin Knudsen.
This is National Suicide Prevention Week, which technically means that during this week we are to raise awareness for suicide prevention. Next week is, among other things, National Child Passenger Safety Awareness Week, and the last week in September is International Deaf Awareness Week.
Since I’m partially deaf, that week means something to me, but by the time we get to the week of October 9 and National Fire Prevention Week, will anyone remember the awareness raised a month before for suicide prevention?
We’ve filled so many weeks up in the calendar that we skip from one issue to another to another and to yet another, and we forget about what we were supposed to remember from the previous month. It mimics our short attention spans. We go from one shiny object to the next without much thought for the previous one.
I guess what’s discomfiting in a way about these weeks-of is that we just pass right by something as deadly serious as suicide, which is a perfect metaphor for suicide. It’s brushed off by those who hear about one with a flippant comment like “Oh, how horrible.” Or buried deep by those who contemplate it: “I don’t have anyone to talk to about the way I feel.”
Many people don’t like to talk about suicide, because in most of our minds it’s so selfish and gruesome. When I wrote a column last December about my experiences with suicide, I heard from many readers, some who said, “I can’t believe you were so open about it. That takes bravery.”
The truth is that talking about it is less bravery and more catharsis. I spent an inordinate amount of time on that column, trying very hard to make sure that people understood that suicide is not about being selfish or gruesome. It’s more about just disappearing because staying alive is just too gruesome. Is it selfish? Perhaps, but someone who tries to die by suicide isn’t thinking about “me, me, me.” They are thinking about getting rid of “me,” because “me” just doesn’t fit in, and continuing to be “me” isn’t an option.
We too often talk about the tragedy of youths and suicide, most notably those that are LGBTQ+. And rightly so, because lost youth, particularly for young peple who can’t be themselves, is an enormous loss for the future. Youth is about hope for the future, and when one of those lights goes out, our future looks a little dimmer.
And we don’t spend enough time talking about suicide among older adults, more pointedly, LGBTQ+ elder suicide. When I wrote my column, I mostly heard from older adults, and each of them talked about being lonely, depressed, and isolated. I also heard about not fitting into a community that values youth and appearance.
While we all agree that that isn’t right, there’s no way to dismiss our obsessions with being young and pretty. Instead of marveling at those who have weathered the tropical storm of life, we avoid looking at their hunched gaits, gray hairs, and wrinkles because, well, we don’t want those attributes. The bottom line, we don’t want to get old. If it’s not in front of us, then we don’t have to think about it. So we don’t think enough about our elders — at their peril.
I reached out to Sherrill Wayland (who uses she/they pronouns), who is director of special initiatives for SAGE, America’s oldest and largest nonprofit organization dedicated to improving the lives of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender older adults. We discussed efforts to help prevent LGBTQ+ elders’ suicides by helping to combat social isolation, depression, anxiety — and substance abuse that so often helps trigger suicidal thoughts.
I asked Wayland how prevalent the problem of suicide is among older LGBTQ+ adults. “It’s estimated that 39 percent have had suicidal thoughts, and among older transgender adults over 65, they have an even greater risk of suicidal ideation and depression compared to their cisgender peers. Our research shows that two out of every five have tried, which is alarming,” she said.
Overall, Wayland said that LGBTQ+ elders over 65 have higher levels of depression, anxiety, and substance abuse and suicide compared to their cisgender peers, but that until recently, we’ve only begun to seriously address the issues. “For me personally, I live in St. Louis, and 15 years ago, all we heard about was the problem of suicide among LGBTQ youth, and it was barely mentioned for older adults, and it raised my concern level,” Wayland remembered.
“It’s easy to reflect on our own youth and the difficulty of coming out or inability to come out and all the struggles we went through when we were younger,” they added. “However, for so many of us it’s harder to relate to being older because we haven’t experienced being older, so we have no idea what it’s like. We’ve been raising awareness so that the concerns of the youth are the same as the concerns for the older population.”
For older adults, the number one contributing factor is social isolation, and according to Wayland, 59 percent of LGBTQ+ elders over 65 said they lacked companionship, and 53 percent said they felt isolated from others. Further, they are twice as likely to be single and live alone. “They often feel as if there’s no one to turn to for support,” Wayland said.
“And we often forget that some older adults still hide their sexuality because they are afraid they might lose their benefits like affordable housing or risk employment discrimination, so hiding their identities is another major problem, particularly if it’s a person of color, which only increases the level of stigma they feel, and their fear of not getting the help and services they need.”
In 2019, SAGE partnered with United Way Worldwide on a hotline that provides 24/7 support in 180 languages.
“The program provides an LGBTQ+ elder looking for help with a friendly responder who is able to listen to the feelings and concerns that the individuals express,” Wayland explained. “Prior to COVID, we were receiving approximately 30-40 calls a month, and now we get over 300 calls monthly. In some ways the increase is heartbreaking and in other ways heartening since perhaps more people are realizing that they have a place to call and are receiving the resources they need during a very challenging time.”
While the hotline is a great resource, I wondered what any of us could do to help? Wayland said that the main thing we can do is to simply be there for others. “If you recognize someone in your circle of friends who might be struggling, pick up the phone and call them. Invite them to lunch, check in with them, and don’t be afraid to let them know there are programs and people to help them. We really need to be there for each other, especially as we begin to age. And if you’re younger, take the opportunity to reach out to LGBTQ+ seniors.”
Along those lines, SAGE started a program called SAGE Connect which is a phone buddy program, with volunteers who do weekly phone calls with elders. “The program is intergenerational and is a great way to make a friend and stay connected,” Wayland said. “At its heart SAGE is a community of caring activists, who come together as a community to provide hope to one another. And hope is so critical to living life.”
As I wrote in December, “Some of us live in communities or circumstances or environments that don’t allow us to be who we really are and don’t give us the opportunity to live the way we were meant to live. And what’s really sad is that so many contemplate suicide as an escape rather than a real escape that would let hope shine through.”
John Casey is editor at large at The Advocate.
If you are having thoughts of suicide or are concerned that someone you know may be, resources are available to help. The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 is for people of all ages and identities. Trans Lifeline, designed for transgender or gender-nonconforming people, can be reached at (877) 565-8860. The lifeline also provides resources to help with other crises, such as domestic violence situations. The Trevor Project Lifeline, for LGBTQ+ youth (ages 24 and younger), can be reached at (866) 488-7386. Users can also access chat services at TheTrevorProject.org/Help or text START to 678678.
On August 30, middle school administrators allegedly pulled a 13-year-old transgender boy out of class so an investigator from the state’s Department of Family and Protective Services (DFPS) could ask him personal questions about his past medical history, gender dysphoria, and past suicide attempt.
The boy — given the pseudonym “Steve Koe” in court documents — was left “shaking and distressed” by the interrogation, The Washington Post reported. Worse yet, the interrogation allegedly occurred after a court told DFPS investigators to stop doing them.
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Now, Koe’s story is a part of supplemental evidence being filed by the LGBTQ-advocacy organizations Lambda Legal and the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) in its lawsuit against Texas Gov. Greg Abbott.
In February, Abbott ordered DFPS to investigate for child abuse any parents who allow their trans children to access gender-affirming medical care. Abbott based his order on a non-binding opinion from the state’s Attorney General Ken Paxton which called such care a form of “child abuse.”
Paxton’s opinions and Abbott’s order both went against the best practices of pediatrics outlined by the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American Medical Association, and the American Psychological Association. These organizations consider gender-affirming medical care necessary in many cases, noting it reduces mental anguish and suicide risk among trans youth.
Soon after issuing his order, several DFPS employees quit and some state attorneys refusedto enforce it. The Texas Supreme Court ruled that neither Abbott nor Paxton had the authority to issue the order. Several families with trans children, represented by Lambda Legal and the ACLU also filed a lawsuit against Abbott.
The presiding district judge in the lawsuit issued a temporary restraining order, effectively stopping DFPS’ investigations while the court prepares to consider the order’s legality in December.
Koe’s story — part of supplemental evidence illustrating how state agencies are handling the alleged child abuse cases — suggested that DFPS continued its investigations of trans families, even after the court ordered it to stop. In a May briefing, state government officials noted that the judge’s ruling to temporarily stop the probes “prevents a state agency from carrying out its statutory duty to investigate reported child abuse,” the Postwrote.
Another woman, identified pseudonymously in court documents as Samantha Poe, said her 14-year-old child became the subject of a DFPS abuse investigation even though the child had received no gender-affirming medical care. The child was only “in midst of exploring what a social transition feels like,” Poe said. But DFPS opened an investigation against the child’s family in February. The stress has left the child with “suicidal ideations,” court documents state.
DFPS employees are speaking out about how Abbott’s order circumvented rule-making procedures at the state agency and made it much harder for its employees to help victims of actual abuse.
The Montana Department of Public Health and Human Services (DPHHS) has just adopted a rule change forbidding transgender people from changing the gender listed on their birth certificates.
The rule change is just the latest in an ongoing legal battle between the DPHHS, the state’s Republican-led legislature, and trans Montanans seeking government documents that display their correct gender identities.
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The DPHHS’ new rule says that a person’s sex listed on a birth certificate can now only be changed if it was incorrectly entered by a “data entry error” or if “the sex of the individual was misidentified on the original certificate and the department receives a correction affidavit and supporting documents, … including a copy of the results of chromosomal, molecular, karyotypic, DNA, or genetic testing that identify the sex of the individual.”
The DPHHS implemented this rule five months after a state judge issued a ruling blocking a state law requiring state residents to undergo a non-specified “surgical procedure” before they could change the gender listed on their birth certificates.
Montana’s Republican-led legislature passed this law, S.B. 280, in April 2021. Previous to the law, the DPHHS said that transgender residents could change the gender marker on their birth certificates if they were intersex, had undergone “a gender transition,” or had a certified court order indicating that their gender had been changed.
In July 2021, two transgender state residents sued the state’s Gov. Greg Gianforte (R), DPHHS, and its director, claiming that S.B. 280 had made it virtually impossible for them to change their birth certificates, thus violating their constitutional right to privacy and due process.
“Denying me an accurate birth certificate places me at risk of embarrassment or even violence every time I am required to present my birth certificate because it incorrectly identifies me as male,” said Amelia Marquez, one of the plaintiffs and a trans woman, in a statement.
S.B. 280 also made it impossible for many trans people to get a corrected birth certificate because such surgery is too expensive for many people, not all trans people want or need gender-affirming genital surgery, and many are not good candidates for it for medical reasons.
The state disagreed and said that S.B. 280 was necessary to maintain accurate birth records.
However, in April 2022, state Judge Michael Moses said that the law’s requirement of an unspecified surgical procedure made it impossible for anyone to follow. The judge then issued a temporary injunction against S.B. 280, essentially blocking it from going into effect.
But the state chapter of the ACLU says that Montana government officials have done nothing to comply with the judge’s order. For instance, a gender change form that DPHHS removed from its website after S.B. 280 was passed still hasn’t returned to the website.
“The fact that the state refuses to revert to the previous processes evidences its lack of respect for the judiciary and utter disregard for the transgender Montanans who seek to have a birth certificate that accurately indicates what they know their sex to be,” the ACLU said in their statement. “If the state continues to violate the preliminary injunction, we will have no choice but to seek relief from the court.”
Montana passed several other anti-LGBTQ laws in 2021, including a ban on transgender girls participating in school sports. The state also passed a law requiring schools to give 48-hours notice to parents if they are going to discuss LGBTQ people.
In July, a 35-year-old Black man from the Washington, D.C. area went from experiencing Covid-like symptoms to watching his body be overtaken by the aggravating, blistering boils of monkeypox. And yet, as he endured the agony and uncertainty that came with the disease, he said he had other, more pressing concerns.
The man, who asked to remain anonymous because of concerns related to the stigma associated with the disease, said he was alarmed by how difficult it was to find information on monkeypox and his doctor’s seeming dismissal of his concerns about his symptoms.
He said his case is an example of the concerning public health response to monkeypox, and, for the Black population in particular, follows a historical pattern of medical malfeasance and shortcomings.
The man said when he visited urgent care in early July, the doctor didn’t appear to take him seriously. “I asked if she was up on the latest CDC guidelines on monkeypox and she wasn’t,” he recalled. “So, she had to call the CDC to even get approval to administer me a test. She went on about how it would take an hour of paperwork and other stuff, so most doctors weren’t excited about giving the tests.”
The man, who is gay, said, “it was like a repeat performance” of some of the issues that came with the Covid pandemic, when Black people in many parts of the country had less access to treatment and vaccines, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Now with monkeypox, health care officials face the challenge of effectively communicating information about the spread of the outbreak without stigmatizing gay men. Public health officials interviewed by NBC News said managing that balance is critical to gaining public confidence to offset the intense mistrust of the medical establishment in the Black community. The poor response by health officials, the disparities in the vaccine rollout and the stigma associated with monkeypox have contributed to men questioning how the virus is spread — despite the data, experts say.
Data from the CDC found that, through July 22, 99% of cases were among men, 94% of whom reported recent sexual contact with males. The World Health Organization added that 98.7% of confirmed cases globally are in males, with 97.2% of those men reporting that they had sex with other men.
Black men across the country have been hit especially hard by the outbreak. Although Blacks make up roughly 12% of the population, they make up 38% of the most recent monkeypox cases, according to the CDC. In Atlanta, 71% of people with the infection, which can cause painful and irritating skin lesions, are Black men who have sex with men and about two-thirds of those men have HIV, according to the Georgia Health Department.
In North Carolina, one of the few states reporting on the monkeypox spread, 70% of those infected are Black men, with nearly all of the cases affecting men who have sex with men. However, only 24% of the vaccines in the state have gone to Black North Carolinians.
Those numbers worry Black gay men, as well as public health experts like Dr. Jayne Morgan, director of Piedmont HealthCare in Atlanta who hosts educational podcasts on monkeypox. She said the messaging has to be clear about who is at risk of contracting monkeypox and what preventive measures are available, all while being careful not to stigmatize specific groups of people.
Dr. Jayne Morgan.Courtesy Dr. Jayne Morgan
“We have the tools and enough information to stem this tide,” Dr. Morgan told NBC News. “Public health, like Covid, is about behavior. Monkeypox is being driven by behavior. And so behavior can also drive it in the opposite direction also.”
The 35-year-old D.C. resident, who no longer has monkeypox symptoms, called it “dangerous.”
David J. Johns, the executive director of the National Black Justice Coalition, a civil rights organization committed to empowering the Black LGBTQ community and people living with HIV/AIDS, said the attention monkeypox is receiving now is happening only because non-Black people are also impacted.
“The sad reality is that monkeypox isn’t new,” Johns said, adding that it has existed in Africa since the 1970s. “But because privileged white men from Western societies — in particular America — are now being impacted by something that otherwise only impacted disposable Africans, there is a now shift in the way that people are thinking about and talking about and are responding to a virus that has been impacting people for a lot longer than we otherwise want to acknowledge.”
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Difficulty in being diagnosed and treated
The man from the D.C. area said that after a weekend of activities and attending “a crowded party” on July 10, he woke up the next day, “not feeling my best.” He was fatigued and had a fever of 102 and had trouble focusing. He left work early, believing he had contracted Covid.
He took a home test that came back negative. A test at urgent care confirmed he did not have the coronavirus. His fever eventually broke but he had a throbbing headache for days. And he said he experienced “rectal discomfort” and his blood pressure was elevated. Several days later, he began to feel better — but he noticed bumps on his face and arms.
After some resistance, the doctor finally swabbed the blisters on his face and wrists and sent him home with 800 milligrams of ibuprofen and a prescription for his anal pain. At his residence, he said he isolated himself in the attic. In the morning, he woke up to extreme throat soreness. He returned to urgent care, where the doctor again had to call the CDC to see how to treat him since he had been tested positive for monkeypox.
The physician was advised by the CDC to administer an antibiotic shot, which alleviated some of the throat pain. Meanwhile, the sores spread to other parts of his body — arms, legs, in particular.
But “it was kind of shocking,” he said, that his issues were not immediately addressed. He added he was given eight different numbers to call for assistance. “They dragged their feet the entire time.”
The man said he gave a list of the friends he had been in close contact with to the health department for contact tracing. He had already advised them to seek medical attention by the time the health department contacted them two weeks later. “And when they finally got someone, they were basically forced to say they had sex in order to get the vaccine,” he added, noting that his friends felt pressured to say they had sexual contact with him — even when some didn’t — in order to get immediate attention from health care professionals.
“When we talk about high-risk communities, we’re really talking about people who are sort of disaffected from the health care system,” Morgan said. “Stigma and discrimination for people in the LBGTQ community are already very high. And then if you add the Black race on top of that, and you have in monkeypox the same as we did with Covid — the black population is always the most vulnerable because we have the least resources, the least outreach and the most discrimination and stigma.”
In Los Angeles earlier in July, another Black man who also asked to remain anonymous because of the stigma associated with having the virus, outlined nearly identical concerns as the man in metro D.C. He, too, said he believed he didn’t contract the disease through sex. When symptoms occurred, he said he had difficulty finding a place that tested for monkeypox. And when he did locate a health center in downtown Los Angeles, the staff was “suited and booted as if I had a contagion,” he said, referring to the protective gear they wore.
Meanwhile, the disparity in those who have contracted monkeypox and those who have access to vaccines is glaring. While Black people account for about a third of monkeypox cases in the U.S., about 10% of vaccines have been administered to the group, according to the CDC.
The vaccine distribution disparities come as Dr. Rochelle Walensky, the head of the CDC, acknowledgedthat the agency must make drastic changes to respond better and faster to public health emergencies, following missteps during the Covid pandemic.
“We have learned less than nothing from Covid,” Stella Safo, a primary care physician at Mount Sinai who specializes in HIV treatment and is the founder of Just Equity for Health, told STAT News. “We’ve gone backwards.”
Dr. Tyeese Gaines.Courtesy Dr. Tyeese Gaines
Dr. Tyeese Gaines, a physician who practices emergency medicine in Illinois and New Jersey, said the more than two years of being on alert from the coronavirus pandemic has created “panic fatigue,” exasperating people to the point where they are less apt to protect themselves against monkeypox.
“We needed to tell people the reality of Covid-19,” Gaines said. “But eventually people just don’t want to hear it anymore. Some people say: ‘Oh, wow, there’s another scary virus. Let me be safer.’ But there’s still a subset of people whose response to fear is not to become more conservative or to follow whatever the rules are, but actually to act like it doesn’t exist and do the opposite.”
Divisions over LGBTQ-related policies have flared recently at several religious colleges in the United States. On Monday, there was a dramatic new turn at one of the most rancorous battlegrounds — Seattle Pacific University.
A group of students, faculty and staff at the Christian university sued leaders of the board of trustees for refusing to scrap an employment policy barring people in same-sex relationships from full-time jobs at SPU. The 16 plaintiffs say the trustees’ stance — widely opposed on campus — is a breach of their fiduciary duties that threatens to harm SPU’s reputation, worsen enrollment difficulties and possibly jeopardize its future.
The lawsuit, filed in Washington State Superior Court, requests that the defendants — including the university’s interim president, Pete Menjares — be removed from their positions. It asks that economic damages, in an amount to be determined at a jury trial, be paid to anyone harmed by the LGBTQ hiring policy.
“This case is about six men who act as if they, and the educational institution they are charged to protect, are above the law,” the lawsuit says. “While these men are powerful, they are not above the law… They must be held to account for their illegal and reckless conduct.”
In addition to Menjares, the defendants are board chair Dean Kato; trustees Matthew Whitehead, Mark Mason and Mike Quinn, and former trustee Michael McKee. Whitehead and Mason are leaders of the Free Methodist Church, a denomination whose teachings do not recognize same-sex marriage and which founded SPU in 1891.
There was no immediate response to the lawsuit from SPU, though its communications office acknowledged receiving a query from The Associated Press and said a reply was in the works.
SPU’s LGBTQ-related employment policy has been a source of bitter division on the campus over the past two years. One catalyst was a lawsuit filed against SPU in January 2021 by Jeaux Rinedahl, an adjunct professor who alleged he was denied a full-time, tenured position because he was gay.
That lawsuit eventually was settled out of court, but it intensified criticism of the hiring. Through surveys and petitions, it’s clear that large majorities of the faculty and student body oppose the policy, yet a majority of the trustees reaffirmed it in May — triggering resignations by other trustees and protests by students that included a prolonged sit-in at the school’s administrative offices.
At SPU’s graduation on June 12, dozens of students protested by handing gay-pride flags to Menjares, rather than shake his hand, as they received diplomas.
Kato, the trustees’ chair, responded to the protests with a firm defense of the hiring policy.
“We acknowledge there is disagreement among people of faith on the topic of sexuality and identity,” Kato’s wrote to student activists. “But after careful and prayerful deliberation, we believe these longstanding employee expectations are consistent with the University’s mission and Statement of Faith that reflect a traditional view on biblical marriage and sexuality.”
In June, Washington state Attorney General Bob Ferguson notified SPU that his office was investigating “possible discriminatory employment policies and practices” at the school. SPU was asked to provide details on hiring and firing policies related to individuals’ sexual orientation and involvement in a same-sex marriage or relationship.
On July 27, SPU filed a federal court lawsuit against Ferguson, contending that his investigation violated the university’s right to religious freedom.
“Seattle Pacific has asked a federal district court to step in and protect its freedom to choose employees on the basis of religion, free from government interference or intimidation,” the school said in a statement.
Ferguson responded two days later, declaring that his office “respects the religious views of all Washingtonians” but chiding SPU for resorting to litigation.
“The lawsuit demonstrates that the University believes it is above the law to such an extraordinary degree that it is shielded from answering basic questions from my office regarding the University’s compliance with state law,” Ferguson said.
For many gay and bisexual men, the sprawling and chaotic monkeypox outbreak has upended a summer that was supposed to be a well-earned opportunity — following the peak of the Covid crisis — to finally have some fun and revel with their gay brothers without the threat of viral infection hanging over them.
Soon after Memorial Day, however, these men, as well as transgender individuals and other queer people — GBTQ for short, because lesbians’ monkeypox risk is remote — were met head-on with harrowing reports about monkeypox’s often devastating and disfiguring effects on the body. Next came anger and frustration over what queer activists characterize as the Biden administration’s fumbling initial response to the outbreak.
Lost amid the frantic media and public health reports about monkeypox epidemiology, the delayed vaccine deliveries and the squabbling over how best to communicate about the virus are the millions of GBTQ people whose happiness, well-being and connection to one another have in many cases been considerably compromised by the mere threat of monkeypox infection.
Guillermo Rojas spent the summer in his native Mexico City because of the high rates of monkeypox in New York, where he now lives. Benjamin Ryan
“Life has sort of halted,” said Guillermo Rojas, 29, a Mexican citizen and public administration graduate student in New York City. “This was supposed to be the great summer that everything went back and opened.”
Dr. Alex Keuroghlian, a psychiatrist at the LGBTQ-health-focused Fenway Institute in Boston, said the outbreak has “been extremely distressing for community members and is also triggering in that it harkens back to the early days of the AIDS epidemic. It has a chilling effect on people’s sense of community, cohesion and belonging.”
Fortunately, there has been at most one U.S. monkeypox death in the U.S. — a potential case in a severely immunocompromised person in Texas is under investigation — even as the national case count has swelled to 19,465 diagnoses. And after a slow start, the federal government has now doled out approximately 800,000 vaccine vials, with a heady supply arriving in short order.
People lined up outside of Department of Health & Mental Hygiene clinic on June 23, 2022 in New York.Tayfun Coskun / Anadolu Agency via Getty Images
Over 100 gay, bisexual, transgender and queer people responded to an NBC News online survey seeking to learn about how monkeypox has affected their lives. What this diverse cross-section of the community most had in common were missed opportunities. They wrote about sex they never had, dates they never went on and gatherings with friends they avoided.
All that avoidance, the respondents made evident, was enmeshed in a cat’s cradle of fear — of contagion, of pain and suffering, of lonely and potentially financially ruinous weeks of isolation at home should they contract the virus.
They spoke of a summer they had hoped would prove invincible but that for them has turned out to be anything but.
A decade of sexual liberation, interrupted
Over the past 10 years, the introduction of PrEP, the HIV prevention pill, and the emergence of landmark studies proving that successfully treating HIV blocks transmission of the virus have cultivated a resurgent sexual liberation among many GBTQ people. Long-standing anxieties about HIV have eased, and hookup apps have made meeting sexual partners as convenient as procuring takeout — hence the term “ordering in.” As a result, people like Rojas have felt free to explore and revel in sex in a way queer people haven’t since the AIDS epidemic brought to a crashing close the sexual freedoms gay men enjoyed during the 1970s.
Then, in 2020, a new viral plague kept all of society cooped up and longing for freedom.
“Post-Covid,” said Rojas, recalling how he experienced the free-spirited bacchanalia into which monkeypox arrived in New York City this spring, “everybody went crazy, and there were sex parties all over town.”
Monkeypox swiftly pushed the contemporary safer-sex playbook out the window. Queer people have been left scrambling for answers about how to protect themselves and have expressed bewilderment as they’ve struggled to process mixed messaging from public health leaders and journalists about what poses a substantial risk of infection.
Rojas was one of the first U.S. residents to receive the prized monkeypox vaccine, in late June. But even with the benefit of his first jab of the two-dose vaccine, he has still sharply curtailed what he had hoped would be a long-awaited libertine summer.
“I’ve stopped going to sex parties,” he said, given that public health authorities identified such gatherings of men as major monkeypox risk factors. “I also stopped having sex with people who live off their OnlyFans. I additionally stopped cruising at the gym, I did not continue to go to Fire Island, and I stopped attending orgies.”
Evidence suggests a recent tidal shift in sexual behaviors in responses to monkeypox. According to the American Men’s Internet Survey, which conducted an online poll in early August of 824 gay, bisexual and other men who have sex with men, 48% reported reducing their number of sexual partners because of the outbreak, while 50% reduced hook-ups and 49% reduced partners met on hookup apps or at sex venues.
“It’s just a small, temporary break until everybody gets the vaccine,” said Rojas, who remained so concerned about living in the nation’s monkeypox epicenter that he decamped to his family’s home in Mexico City for the summer.
Fighting over — and for — sexual freedom
Not everyone in the queer community has been on the same page regarding monkeypox precautions. Just as battles over mask mandates and school closures have turned neighbor against neighbor during the Covid pandemic, fierce internecine conflicts have arisen among GBTQ people this summer about the best ways to respond to and communicate about monkeypox.
Michael Weinstein, the president of the Los Angeles-based AIDS Healthcare Foundation, dusted off his outspoken antipathy toward PrEP and published a scathing rebuke of the sexual liberties the HIV-prevention pill has facilitated in an op-ed titled “Monkeypox Reckoning” in the Los Angeles Blade on Monday. Notorious for an unapologetically strident, moralizing and fear-based approach to HIV-prevention communication, one that is far out of step with that of the vast majority of the public health community, Weinstein decried “a wholesale abandonment of safer sex promotion in favor of PrEP.”
“There has always been a sex radical group that has defined gay liberation as absolute sexual freedom,” Weinstein wrote, blaming monkeypox on those freedoms.
For another man named Michael, who like some people interviewed preferred to go only by his first name to shield his privacy, protecting himself against monkeypox by sacrificing the very sexual freedoms that Weinstein castigates has come, he said, at a great cost.
“I am not changing my behavior with an attitude of cheerful, take-one-for-the-team compliance,” said Michael, 42, who works in education in Philadelphia. “Instead, I find the situation fearful, miserable and diminishing. I am experiencing this outbreak as a serious setback to something that is very important to me, namely sexual freedom.
“Sex,” he continued, “isn’t just a frivolous pastime. For many of us, sex has serious meaning, sex is one of the things that makes life worth living.”
LaRon Nelson is an associate professor of nursing and public health at Yale University and a long-time researcher in the HIV field.Mara Lavitt
After more than two years of Covid restrictions, the arrival on U.S. shores of yet another major virus has also dealt a blow to the already strained mental health of many queer people, said LaRon Nelson, an associate professor of nursing and public health at Yale University.
“The fear of contracting monkeypox and the concern about access to the vaccine have led people to isolate or continue to isolate,” Nelson said. “That chronic exposure to this type of stress also comes at the expense of their psychological well-being.”
J.J. Ryan, a bisexual trans man assigned female at birth, spent the height of the Covid pandemic transitioning.
“I felt like I was just surviving before. I wasn’t really living,” Ryan, 34, said of his pre-transition life. “So I was really excited to get out and live my life — for this to finally be my ‘hot boy summer.’” Instead, he said, he has sadly “sharply reduced” his sexual exploration.
Fears of resurgent discrimination
With so many broken social, romantic, familial and sexual connections lying in pieces around them, many of the respondents to NBC News’ survey said they further dreaded that the monkeypox outbreak would fuel discrimination, hate and even violence toward LGBTQ people.
There is evidence — including a recent attack in Washington, D.C. — that such fears are beginning to manifest.
“My greatest worry in all of this is the turning of the clock back to less and less acceptance society-wise,” said Ryan, who is a Ph.D. student and a policy researcher at a nonprofit research organization in Washington.
John Pachankis is a psychologist at the Yale School of Public Health and a leading researcher of LGBTQ mental health.Michael Benabib
John Pachankis, a psychologist at the Yale School of Public Health, noted how for the past two decades, queer advocacy organizations have pushed “a narrative that gay people are just like everyone else” in a successful effort to secure many civil rights protections. He spoke to the conflict that members of this community now face when the particulars of gay sex lie at the heart of the monkeypox outbreak and, as during the AIDS crisis, have become fodder for intense public debate.
“In the context of the real threat of those rights’ being taken away,” Pachankis said, referring to the recent rising tide of anti-LGBTQ sentiment and policies in the U.S., “the last thing that you want to do is disconfirm that narrative — even if the picture is a little more nuanced, even if gay people do live distinct lives from straight people, even if they express their sexuality more creatively, some might say more authentically.”
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Brian Minalga works in the HIV field in Seattle.Courtesy Brian Minalga
Brian Minalga, 36, who is gender nonbinary and works in the HIV field in Seattle, said: “There’s this idea that there are good people with good behaviors having the good type of sex. It’s moralistic and puritanical.”
Recapitulating racial disparities
For queer people of color, the outbreak has brought an unwelcome recapitulation of the racial health disparities that have characterized both the HIV and the Covid epidemics in the U.S.
“We saw monkeypox start with more affluent white gay men, and then eventually it seeped into more diverse networks, and that includes men of color,” said Gregorio Millett, the director of public policy at amfAR, The Foundation for AIDS Research.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and various state andlocal health departmentshavereported that monkeypox is indeed already disproportionately affecting Blacks and Latinos. And yet outsize shares of the vaccines have tended to go to whites — thanks, health advocates say, to structural factors that favor access to more privileged members of society.
Watching such patterns play out “is painful,” said Carlos E. Rodríguez-Díaz, an associate professor at the Milken Institute School of Public Health at George Washington University, “because it’s a reminder of the presence of systemic racism.”
Matthew Rose, 36, a health equity advocate in Washington, D.C., spoke to the myriad ways he and his Black gay peers have been dehumanized over time. He said he feared that monkeypox, the very name of which evokes a racist trope, will only worsen matters.
“For Black gay men, the last thing you need is to add a whole other discussion where you become this Black vector of disease,” he said.
Three viruses, one sense of fear
For some GBTQ people, fears of contagion instilled during the height of the Covid pandemic have primed further anxieties about monkeypox. The rueful history of the early AIDS epidemic serves as yet another backdrop.
“I decided several weeks ago that intimate contact isn’t worth the risk until I am fully vaccinated and the infection rate is under control,” said Steven Dwyer, 68, who is retired and based out of Baltimore and has been living with HIV since the mid-1980s. “As a long-term AIDS survivor, I learned it’s better to get informed about disease outbreaks that could affect me.”
The plight of Jason, a Los Angeles-area screenwriter in his late 20s, is a particularly profound example of the way crippling anxieties about infectious disease can be all-consuming. Jason has lived with obsessive compulsive disorder since childhood. It causes him intense dread of contagion and contamination, as well as various compulsions in response to such thoughts and stimuli. Fear of Covid left him largely housebound. Now the monkeypox outbreak has magnified those fears just as he was starting to feel more comfortable with venturing outside.
Jason lives with his boyfriend, and they’re monogamous, so contracting monkeypox sexually isn’t a concern. But suggestions that casual contact or contaminated surfaces can transmit monkeypox have left him reluctant to push his luck with his OCD. Consequently, for Jason, it’s as if those cloistered first few months of the Covid pandemic never ended.
“I am probably one of the only people I know that still doesn’t really go out much,” he said.
Many other GBTQ people said monkeypox has led them to question going to crowded spaces, such as concerts, bars and clubs — enjoyable outings and chances to connect with fellow queer people after having lived through the lonely and dull height of Covid.
Jason has been agonizing over whether to attend an upcoming concert of a performer he loves, something he has been looking forward to for years since it got delayed because of the pandemic. And in a recent interview, Dwyer, who travels constantly, expressed concern about contracting monkeypox from hotel linens.
Worries about monkeypox transmission even led to the cancellationof a major concert at the Southern Decadence celebration in New Orleans, which takes place over Labor Day weekend — even though it was to have been held outdoors.
Ryan said that when he visited his family in Philadelphia before he got his first monkeypox vaccination, his mother was hesitant to hug him for fear of the virus. That only aggravated his own worries about perhaps unknowingly passing monkeypox to his young niece and nephew.
Ben Rosen is a psychotherapist at the LGBTQ-focused Harlem United in New York.Brent Unkrich
Such hesitance from family members, said Ben Rosen, a psychotherapist at Harlem United in New York, parallels the cold shoulder many gay men got during the early AIDS crisis, “where people are being told, ‘Oh maybe you shouldn’tcome visit.’”
Recent research suggests, however, that anxieties about monkeypox transmission in public settings and other relatively casual scenarios are most likely misplaced or at least grossly overblown. According to researchpapers and reportsfrom globalhealth authorities, cases of nonsexual transmission are uncommon to rare.
Last week, Dwyer concluded that bed sheets don’t actually pose a substantial risk.
Dr. Demetre Daskalakis was recently appointed as the White House national monkeypox response deputy coordinator.Benjamin Ryan
On an Aug. 19 call with reporters, Dr. Demetre Daskalakis, the deputy for the White House’s monkeypox response, said he believesattending crowded concerts is generally a low-risk activity. Merely brushing by someone, he said, is likely to be “low or no risk.”
Christopher Vasquez, 39, the director of communications at the National Center for Lesbian Rights in San Francisco, said: “I think we need to be very careful about overreacting and shutting down events. Especially after two-plus years of the LGBTQ community feeling the effects of loneliness and depression because of Covid.”
The great work begins
Praising the myriad ways queer activists have fought for a better response to monkeypox, including faster and broader access to vaccines, Keuroghlian of the Fenway Institute said, “The silver lining is to see the amazing ability of our community to organize with solidarity and to articulate their needs.”
There are signs such efforts are bearing fruit.
Recent reports suggest transmission slowdowns in New York, Chicago and San Francisco — likely the result, experts theorize, of changes in sexual behavior, increased vaccination and possibly immunity from past infection.
With the challenging summer coming to a close, Guillermo Rojas is freshly back in New York for the fall semester of his graduate studies at Columbia University. Sitting in Manhattan’s Lincoln Center on a humid late-summer afternoon just after a cloudburst, he expressed optimism over the future of the outbreak.
“As people start getting vaccinated and the second vaccine starts kicking in for most people, things should get back to normal,” he said.
He got his own second shot on Wednesday.
Editor’s note: NBC News would like to hear from people who have recovered from monkeypox infection. If you have, please fill out this confidential online survey, and we may contact you for an interview.
A 33-year-old Black trans woman was fatally shot in Detroit last week, becoming the second trans woman in a month to be murdered there.
On August 27, Dede Ricks was pronounced dead at the scene after police found her on the ground with gunshot wounds to her chest and back, The Detroit News reported.
Thirty-one-year-old Antoine Close has been arrested for killing Ricks and charged with second-degree murder and felony firearm possession. A motive has not been revealed.
“The fact that we have seen two homicides of transgender women in just three weeks shows the danger this community faces,” Alanna Maguire, president of LGBTQ advocacy organization Fair Michigan, said in a statement.
“Rather than being supported, we often hear people vilify the transgender community which fuels this kind of violence and hate. We are proud to work with Prosecutor Worthy’s office on these cases, and we hope to bring justice to the victims and their families.”
Wayne County, Michigan Prosecutor Kym Worthy emphasized that “while some protections for transgender citizens in Michigan are finally beginning to be recognized, their lives are still very much in danger.”
“We have seen this happen before and hope that this does not become a pattern,” she said.
The statement from the prosecutor’s office also inexplicably used Ricks’s deadname and then explained what a deadname is.
At the end of July, 28-year-old Hayden Davis, another Black trans woman, was also shot and killed in Detroit. Her killer has not been found, reports Fox2Detroit. Worthy said the cases do not seem to be connected.
In the United States, at least 27 trans people have been killed by violent means so far this year, according to the Human Rights Campaign. 2021 saw a record number of murders, with 50 trans and gender nonconforming people killed.
Today U.S. District Judge Reed O’Connor ruled in Braidwood Management v. Becerra against a provision of the Affordable Care Act that requires employers to provide insurance coverage for PrEP (Pre-exposure prophylaxis), a medication that prevents the transmission of HIV. The judge ruled that the ACA mandate violates employers’ rights under the Religious Freedom Restoration Act. Read the ruling in the case (courtesy of Chris Geidner)here.
Ivy Hill(they/them pronouns), Community Health Program Director of the Campaign for Southern Equality, said today:
“This ruling is about imposing extreme religious beliefs – not, as it purports, about protecting religious freedom: Far right extremist judges are attacking privacy and access to health care.”
“We must be increasing access to life-saving medications like PrEP, not using it as the latest political wedge to attack LGBTQ people in the South. Whether it’s access to abortion, trans-affirming care, birth control, or PrEP, we are seeing dangerous action from activist courts intervening in Americans’ healthcare decisions – and we must push back.”
PrEP is a daily pill used widely for HIV prevention by individuals who are HIV-negative but at high risk for exposure, including men who have sex with men, people who are in a sexual relationship with an HIV-positive partner, and people who have recently injected drugs. Daily PrEP use can reduce the risk of HIV infection from sex by more than 90%.
PrEP is an especially critical strategy for HIV prevention in the South, the epicenter of the modern HIV crisis in the United States. According to 2016- 2017 CDC data, one-half of all HIV diagnoses occur in the South, 47% of HIV related deaths happened in the South, and 46% of people living with HIV live in the South. In the Campaign for Southern Equality’s Report of the 2019 Southern LGBTQ Health Survey(direct link to HIV data), we found that respondents’ reported rates of living with HIV more than 15 times higher than the national rate, with 5% of respondents saying they are living with HIV and 10.4% saying that they don’t know their status.
Judge O’Connor has a long history of ruling against the Affordable Care Act, and a history of rulings that harm the LGBTQ community, including opinions that overreached on marriage rights for same-sex couples and a decision on anti-LGBTQ workplace discrimination that blatantly violated the U.S. Supreme Court’s ruling in Bostock v. Clayton County.
This summer the Campaign for Southern Equality launched a new campaign, Meeting the Moment in the LGBTQ South to mobilize responses to growing anti-LGBTQ attacks, such as this ruling. Learn more about Meeting the Moment here.
