Over the past several days, President Donald Trump has issued presidential actions proclaiming June as National Homeownership Month, Great Outdoors Month and Caribbean-American Heritage Month, among others. On Monday, amid protests across the country, the White House still managed to issue a statement recognizing June 1 as Global Coptic Day — but two days in, nothing, so far, for LGBTQ Pride month.
In the nearly four years since he has been president, Trump has acknowledged Pride Month once, last June, notably becoming the first Republican president to do so. But his acknowledgement was not in an official presidential proclamation, as President Barack Obama’s had been for all eight years of his presidency. Instead, it was a tweet that was later issued as a White House press releasepromoting the administration’s effort to decriminalize homosexuality around the globe.
“Let us also stand in solidarity with the many LGBT people who live in dozens of countries worldwide that punish, imprison, or even execute individuals on the basis of their sexual orientation,” Trump stated last June.
Trump did not acknowledge Pride Month in either proclamations or tweets in 2017 and 2018.
The Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest LGBTQ advocacy group, issued a statement Tuesday morning blasting Trump and Vice President Mike Pence for failing again to recognize Pride Month “to honor the history of the LGBTQ community and acknowledge the ongoing movement toward full equality.”
“In a global pandemic and national crisis highlighting ongoing racial violence and police brutality across the country — violence that particularly targets Black lives — Trump and his administration have stoked division, hate and anger with continued attacks on LGBTQ people, people of color, immigrants and other vulnerable communities,” Alphonso David, the group’s executive director, said in the statement.
A request to the White House for comment was not immediately returned Tuesday.
Over the past five years, during his presidential campaign and his presidency, Trump has mentioned the LGBTQ community only a few times. During his campaign, he frequently referred to the Pulse nightclub shootings in 2016 in Orlando, Florida, and promised to protect LGBTQ people from what he described as “the violence and oppression of a hateful foreign ideology.”
On his social media platform of choice, Twitter, he has mentioned the “LGBT” community only a few times in the past five years,transgender people once in July 2017 (when he famously announced he would reinstitute the country’s transgender military ban), and a few scattered comments about “gay” people over the past decade. Lesbians and bisexuals have gone unmentioned.
The Trump re-election campaign, notably, continues to sell rainbow-colored “Make America Great Again” T-shirts on its website for $25.
LGBTQ Pride Month was established by Bill Clinton in June 1999, though it was called Gay and Lesbian Pride Month. In his first proclamation recognizing Pride Month, Clinton said he was “proud” of his administration’s efforts to “end discrimination against gays and lesbians and ensure that they have the same rights guaranteed to their fellow Americans,” citing his signing in 1998 of executive order 13087, which made it possible for people of any sexual orientation to work in the federal government and to receive security clearances.
“Today, more openly gay and lesbian individuals serve in senior posts throughout the Federal Government than during any other Administration,” Clinton’s June 2000 proclamation stated.
George W. Bush declined to recognize June as Pride Month, and it was not until the election of Barack Obama that the tradition started again.
“All people deserve to live with dignity and respect, free from fear and violence, and protected against discrimination, regardless of their gender identity or sexual orientation,” Obama’s June 2015 proclamation read.
Joseph Biden issued a statement on Monday recognizing June as Pride Month, saying “much work remains” to advance LGBTQ people despite the progress made after the first Pride 50 years ago in memorial of the Stonewall riots.
“Despite our progress, much work remains,” Biden wrote. “As our nation grapples with the uncomfortable truths of systemic racism, a devastating pandemic that’s claimed more than 100,000 lives in the United States and left more than 40 million people filing for unemployment, and a president that’s waged an all-out assault on the rights of our most vulnerable, including LGBTQ+ people, we are reminded of why those first brave souls took to the streets to march 50 years ago.”
Meanwhile, President Trump as of this posting has issued no statement or proclamation recognizing June as Pride Month. Last year, Trump in a tweet became the first Republican U.S. president to recognize Pride, but said nothing in his first two years in office.
Biden issues the Pride statement as the nation is gripped in horror over police brutality that killed George Floyd, a black man in Minneapolis. Protests followed in the days afterwards, but also violent riots damaging to U.S. monuments and privatE property throughout the country.
“Pride has come to be recognized as a global movement of love, self-expression, and community — resilient in the face of oppression and fear and hopeful for a better future,” Biden wrote. “This month, let us recommit to those principles of Pride and remain steadfast in the fight for justice and equality.”
Biden also invoked the memories of LGBTQ activists who have died in recent weeks: Larry Kramer, a gay rights pioneer and AIDS activist who founded ACT Up; Aimee Stephens, a transgender plaintiff in lawsuit before the Supreme Court that will decide whether federal civil rights law applies to LGBTQ people; and Lorena Borjas, a transgender immigrant activist.
Biden also cites the anti-LGBTQ policies of the Trump administration, such as the transgender military ban, as well as condemning Trump and Vice President Mike Pence for having “given safe harbor to white supremacists and other forms of hate.”
In contrast, Biden expresses commitment to LGBTQ legislation known as the Equality Act pending before Congress and says he’ll take “swift action to reverse” the Trump administration’s anti-LGBTQ policies.
The White House hasn’t responded to repeated requests from the Washington Blade to comment why Trump hasn’t issued any statement recognizing Pride Month.
Last week, the White House issued five proclamations from Trump designating June as Great Outdoors Month, African-American Music Appreciation Month, National Homeownership Month, National Ocean Month and National Caribbean-American Heritage Month, but nothing on Pride Month.
Alphonso David, president of the Human Rights Campaign, slammed Trump in a statement for ignoring Pride Month.
“This June, the Trump-Pence administration has yet again failed to recognize Pride Month to honor the history of the LGBTQ community and acknowledge the ongoing movement toward full equality,” David said. “In a global pandemic and national crisis highlighting ongoing racial violence and police brutality across the country — violence that particularly targets Black lives — Trump and his administration have stoked division, hate, and anger with continued attacks on LGBTQ people, people of color, immigrants, and other vulnerable communities.”
LGBTQ advocacy groups Monday hastily reoriented planned Pride Month programming, already significantly altered by the coronavirus pandemic, to address the anti-racism protests that have erupted across the United States.
In statements declaring support for #BlackLivesMatter protests against racism and police brutality, organizations including the Human Rights Campaign, the National Center for Lesbian Rights and GLAAD pointed to the radical roots of the early gay rights movement. They called for solidarity with the black and brown communities and many of them cited the now-iconic uprising at New York’s Stonewall Inn in June 1969, which led to the country’s first Pride marches the following year, and some groups also gave a nod to the lesser-known 1966 riot at San Francisco’s Compton’s Cafeteria.
“Today is 6/1, the official start to #PrideMonth. But right now we are reminded that the 1st #Pride wasn’t a party or celebration, it was a RIOT led by Queer POC,” NCLR tweeted, referring to queer people of color.
In a Monday appearance on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe,” Human Rights Campaign President Alphonso David spoke of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and Nina Pop, all black people who have been killed recently, and spoke of the “countless other names and faces” of victims who are still unknown “because there was no camera.” He then drew the connection between the current protests and Pride Month.
“We are celebrating Pride Month starting today, but we have to also remember Pride Month has its roots in the struggle, in protest,” he said.
On Friday, more than 100 LGBTQ civil rights organizations published an open letter condemning racial violence and affirming that they “recognize we cannot remain neutral, nor will awareness substitute for action.”
“We celebrate June as Pride Month, because it commemorates, in part, our resisting police harassment and brutality at Stonewall in New York City, and earlier in California, when such violence was common and expected,” the letter states. “We remember it as a breakthrough moment when we refused to accept humiliation and fear as the price of living fully, freely, and authentically.”
New York state Sen. Brad Hoylman, the body’s only openly gay member, called for a total overhaul of planned Pride Month celebrations — most of which were already canceled because of the coronavirus pandemic and tentatively replaced by a streaming eventscheduled for June 27.
“This is no time for a milquetoast, corporate Pride celebration that simply celebrates the progress we’ve made since 1969,” Hoylman wrote. “It would be unconscionable for the LGBTQ community to ignore that our black and brown neighbors are crying out for justice.”
Hoylman called for Pride 2020 to be replaced by a “return to our roots,” a “radical protest against bigotry, racism, homophobia, transphobia and police brutality.”
The National Center for Lesbian Rights tweeted that for this year’s Pride, the group “will be planning and taking part in events that have a focus on racial justice and anti-blackness, in order to help show how they are intersectional and intertwined with the #LGBTQ community.”
Sarah Kate Ellis, the president and CEO of GLAAD, a national LGBTQ advocacy group, promised that her organization will be “centering and lifting up the voices of Black LGBTQ people” this month. “There can be no Pride if it is not intersectional,” she said.
The actor and activist George Takei was among the LGBTQ celebrities to speak out about the need for a shift during Pride Month.
“You cannot remain silent today and celebrate Pride tomorrow” he said, endorsing #BlackLivesMatter. “We must stand today with our black brothers and sisters.”
Sen. Kamala Harris, D-Calif., a vocal LGBTQ ally, gave a nod to some of the queer movement’s most iconic black and Latino activists in her call for solidarity during Pride Month.
“Because Marsha P. Johnson, Stormé DeLarverie, Sylvia Rivera, and countless other LGBTQ+ people had the courage to stand up for their rights, we now celebrate #PrideMonth,” she wrote on Twitter. “Those pivotal events showed what we know to be true to this day: no one should be left to fight alone.”
Last week two Black men, George Floyd and Tony McDade, were killed by police, leading to countless people protesting around the world in support of Black Lives Matter.
George Floyd died after a police officer pinned him down by the neck using his knee until he went limp. Tony McDade, a trans man, was shot and killed by officers while being chased in connection with a fatal stabbing.
For people of color – gay or straight, trans or cis – these stories, sadly, aren’t unique. Frankly, they’re commonplace. Black people have been dying at the hands of police in horrifying numbers for centuries – only now, the internet is being used to share these stories more widely than ever before.
The police violence being directed at those protesting racism in Minneapolis and in other cities around the world is, again, nothing new. The Black Lives Matter movement and associated groups have been organising protests against police brutality since the 2014 killing of Michael Brown Jr, an 18-year-old Black man shot dead by a white police officer.
Before that, Black people have been asking police to stop killing us for as long as there have been police. But all too often these efforts are welcomed with tear gas, rubber bullets and further violence. And at the end of it all, Black people are still being killed.
Just as the LGBT+ rights movement – which, it pays to remember, was spearheaded by Black trans women and butch lesbians – has been bolstered by straight-cis allies, and has furthered LGBT+ rights by winning over the straight cis (mostly) men who run our world, the Black community needs allies of all races to stand with us. Our voices, our bodies and our actions alone aren’t enough – to affect change as quickly as possible, we need your help.
If you want to stand up and be counted, here is a non-exhaustive list of things you can do.
1. Call for accountability.
The most immediate thing allies can do is to sign petitions and contact political representatives to demand justice for both George Floyd and Tony McDade.
A petition calling for charges to be filed against all four officers involved in Floyd’s death has so far attracted 10 million signatures. The officer who knelt on Floyd’s neck has been charged with murder, but each additional name added will help build pressure for officials to take action against the other three.
A separate petition is simply calling for “Justice for Tony McDade”, and at the time of publication has been signed more than 430,000 times. McDade’s case is currently shrouded in uncertainties – signing his petition will help bring visibility and hopefully answers.
2. Protest.
If you feel safe doing so, consider joining a protest. Understandably not all queer people will be able to do this. If being in large groups and/or around police poses a danger to you, or if you are disabled and concerned about access/making a safe exit, do not feel compelled to protest. There are many lanes of resistance, and each of us can’t occupy all of them.
If you want to protest, it’s easy to find organised demonstrations through social media. Follow trusted Black organisers, protest with a buddy, and maintain social distancing. A widely-shared infographic has other good pieces of advice for protecting yourself.
3. Donate.
If you can afford to do so, there are many Black organisations that need funding at this critical time.
The Minnesota Freedom Fund – which, among other things, is working to free jailed protestors by paying bail and legal fees – has raised over $20 million in the past week and is now asking people to consider donating to other groups.
Its suggestions include the Black Visions Collective – a Black-led, queer and trans-centring organisation dedicated to Black liberation.
It also recommends people donate to Reclaim the Block, a coalition demanding that Minneapolis divest from policing and invest in long-term community alternatives, and the North Star Health Collective, which works with organisers to create safe and health events.
Further afield, there are local organisations working to free protestors across the US. The National Bail Fund Network is maintaining an updated thread of places where people can donate.
Saturday THREAD – So much solidarity from coast to coast! This is an updated thread on bail funds supporting people arrested for demanding justice for George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, & all victims of police violence. 1/#FreeThemAll
4. Educate yourself and others on being anti-racist.
Not being racist isn’t enough. Now as much as ever, it’s important to be vocally and actively against racism in all its forms.
If you aren’t sure what this means, or aren’t comfortable in your knowledge of these issues, take the time to educate yourself. Read books by Black authors, such as Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge, How to Be an Antiracist by Ibram X Kendi, or Back to Black by Kehinde Andrews.
Share what you learn with white friends, challenge them when you see or hear them making ill-informed statements, and further the conversation as much as you can.
5. Be mindful on social media.
As journalist Paula Akpan recently tweeted: “Being online right now as a Black person is f**king exhausting.”
Be mindful of sharing videos showing violence against Black bodies without a proper warning. Be considerate in who and what you are retweeting. While racists must be held accountable, there are ways of doing this without amplifying their message of hate – by reporting them to social networks and/or, when appropriate, by informing their employers.
If you are unsure about what to share on social media, often the best thing to do is to amplify the voices of the oppressed – in this case, Black people. Retweet posts and share articles. It’s fine to contribute your own words of course, but be mindful and open to constructive criticism. Above all, remember if you have a platform – even a small one – and want to make a difference, use it.
6. Check in on your queer Black friends.
Amid all of this, don’t forget to keep in contact with your Black friends as you would at any other time. Remember that we won’t always want to talk about race and racism, even when it is dominating topic in the media and online. When we do, be sure to listen more than you do speak, and try not to use us as a resource for your own development.
7. Keep the energy going.
Right now it’s impossible to predict what the future will bring. But regardless, remember to remain committed to anti-racism. Whether the current protests beget sweeping change or whether the status quo returns, continue to make your voice heard, improve your own learning, and support Black people and Black causes.
Amid the national horror following the police killing of George Floyd in Minnesota, LGBTQ and civil rights groups have issued a joint statement declaring anti-racism and an end to white supremacy must be “integral to the objective of full equality for LGBTQ people.”
Anger over the death of Floyd, a black man who appears on video to have been choked to death at the hands of white police officers as he pled to breathe, sparked riots in Minnesota and prompted the governor to call in the National Guard. Tensions were increased after police arrested CNN reporter Omar Jimenez and his crew on air as he was reporting on the riots.
“Many of our organizations have made progress in adopting intersectionality as a core value and have committed to be more diverse, equitable, and inclusive,” the statement says. “But this moment requires that we go further — that we make explicit commitments to embrace anti racism and end white supremacy, not as necessary corollaries to our mission, but as integral to the objective of full equality for LGBTQ people.”
The statement, which was spearheaded by the Human Rights Campaign, was signed by 75 groups, issues the call “Black Lives Matter” and enumerates the names of several black people who have been victims of racism and violence in the past year alone.
Human Rights Campaign President Alphonso David, who’s black, echoed in a statement words by Archbishop Desmond Tutu 30 years ago: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”
“The racist violence that has filled our television, computer and phone screens this spring is a stark reminder of how far we still must go to ensure that the promise of America is not dependent on the color of one’s skin,”David said. “When we see injustice, we must speak out as strongly as we can. Otherwise, we are complicit in oppression.”
Among the incidents cited are Floyd’s death as well as the killing of Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia; the death of Breonna Taylor in a shooting with police in Louisville; a white woman in New York City calling the police on Christian Cooper a black gay man who told her to obey the rules in Central Park and leash her dog; and the killings of at least 12 transgender people so far in this year alone.
“All of these incidents are stark reminders of why we must speak out when hate, violence, and systemic racism claim — too often with impunity — Black Lives,” the statement says.
As onlookers recoil from the images of riots in Minnesota, the letter invoked the Stonewall riots of 1969 in New York City, which is considered the birth of the modern LGBTQ movement.
“The LGBTQ community knows about the work of resisting police brutality and violence,” the statement says. “We celebrate June as Pride Month, because it commemorates, in part, our resisting police harassment and brutality at Stonewall in New York City, and earlier in California, when such violence was common and expected. We remember it as a breakthrough moment when we refused to accept humiliation and fear as the price of living fully, freely, and authentically.”
Signers of the letter include the American Civil Liberties Union, the Trevor Project as well as state LGBTQ groups, such as Equality Arizona, Equality California and Equality Florida.
Michael Ely met his husband, James Taylor, at a Sunset Beach bar in 1971. Taylor, known as “Spider” to his friends, played guitar in a band, and Ely got involved as a singer. The couple lived in California until the emotional toll of the AIDS epidemic became too great. In the early ‘90s, they relocated to Tucson, Arizona, where Taylor worked as a jet mechanic for Bombardier and Ely took care of their home.
In 2007, Ely and Taylor had a commitment ceremony but could not be legally married in Arizona. Then in November of 2014, shortly after the state legalized same-sex marriage — and 43 years after they first met — the two men tied the knot. Six months later, Taylor succumbed to cancer.
“Being able to access survivors benefits can make the difference for whether someone can afford the basic necessities of life, like housing, food and health care.”
PETER RENN, LAMBDA LEGAL
Despite their decadeslong relationship and eventual marriage, the Social Security Administration denied Ely spousal benefits, because the couple had not been married for the requisite nine months.
This week, however, a federal court ruling changed that. The LGBTQ advocacy group Lambda Legal won a class-action lawsuit, Ely v. Saul,on behalf of same-sex couples denied Social Security Administration benefits because of gay marriage bans.
“Because same-sex marriage is a fundamental right, and the underpinnings of the duration-of-marriage requirement has relied on the unconstitutional ban of that right, it cannot be said to be rationally related to a legitimate interest to a surviving spouse such as Mr. Ely,” the U.S. District Court for the District of Arizona’s Wednesday ruling states.
Ely described the decision as a “huge victory” that’s “going to help a lot of people.” One of the Lambda Legal attorneys on the case, Peter Renn, agreed.
“It is impossible to overstate the significance of this victory, not just for the number of people it affects, but for vindication of their constitutional rights,” he said.
The other named plaintiffs in the case include Anthony Gonzalez, whose husband, Mark Johnson, died in 2014, and James Obergefell, whose husband, John Arthur, died in 2013. Obergefell was also the plaintiff in the 2015 landmark Supreme Court case Obergefell v. Hodges, which made same-sex marriage legal across the United States.
Renn said that despite the Obergefell decision five years ago, the widowers involved in Ely v. Saul “have been deprived the protections of marriage, and without the victory would have been deprived the protections” for the rest of their lives.
“This type of government denial is flatly unconstitutional, and the ruling provides this relief on a nationwide basis to everyone who was affected by this,” he said.
Following a request for comment, the Social Security Administration referred NBC News to the Department of Justice, which did not immediately respond.
Ruling’s impact
Because Ely v. Saul is a class-action suit, all couples in a similar position to Ely will be able to access survivors benefits.
In 2020, over 65 million Americans will receive over $1 trillion in benefits from the Social Security Administration, according to the agency. While there are no estimates available for the number of gay surviving spouses who will benefit from this week’s ruling, survivors benefits account for over 12 percent of SSA benefits paid. In a single month in 2019, 6 million survivors received $7 billion in benefits.
“Being able to access survivors benefits can make the difference for whether someone can afford the basic necessities of life, like housing, food and health care,” Renn said.
At 67 years old, Ely currently relies on his husband’s pension from Bombardier, but that will run out in a couple of years.
“I think I’m going to be around another 20 years, and this gives me that security that I won’t end up on the streets,” he said of the Social Security benefits he’s now entitled to.
Renn emphasized that Social Security benefits are “benefits we all pay for.”
“This is tethered to your earning history,” he said. “Michael’s husband paid in like everybody else.”
Ely said his husband was a “hard worker” who spent “over 40 years putting into Social Security.”
“To think that I, his partner, his husband, would be denied that money and the government would just keep it didn’t seem fair,” Ely said.
Ely said he expects the government to appeal the decision, but he isn’t allowing that to take the shine out of his victory.
“I am happy, and I know Spider would be happy,” Ely said. “I think he would be doing cartwheels, and I hope he is, somewhere.”
When she heard that her university campus would be shutting down after spring break due to the coronavirus pandemic, Alexis feared her life could fall apart.
She wasn’t able to afford campus housing this semester and is living instead in a nearby homeless shelter. But she depended on her school’s health and fitness center for daily showers and her school’s library for quiet study time.
“My whole life revolves around the university, and the university is closed,” said Alexis, a 34-year-old trans woman and student at the University of Eastern Michigan. (A university spokesperson told Vox that campus dining halls are still open for “grab and go” meals in accordance with a Monday order from Gov. Gretchen Whitmer; however, other services likethe rec center are closed.)
When her school decided to shift to online classes, which meant finding a public space to study and attend classes, she knew that wouldn’t be possible in the shelter. She also knew that other public spaces would likely soon close to promote social distancing. She worried she may have to move back home with her father, who doesn’t support her transition and doesn’t use her name or correct pronouns.
“My relationship with my parents is not good, particularly my dad,” Alexis said. “My parents in general are just not very accepting of me, but [being] trans is kinda like the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
Alexis is one of thousands of LGBTQ college students dealing with campus closures; a 2016 survey of more than 33,000 college students found that 10 percent identified as LGBTQ. But many queer students don’t have a safe or supportive place to go home to while campuses struggle to manage the ongoing pandemic. When state and local health officials outlined guidance about closing down spaces where large groups gather,universities across the country were among the first to act in order to try to mitigate the spread of Covid-19, the disease stemming from the coronavirus.“MY WHOLE LIFE REVOLVES AROUND UNIVERSITY, AND THE UNIVERSITY IS CLOSED”
On March 6, the University of Washington was the first to shut its doors, moving entirely to online classes in a region hit early in the pandemic. Since then, most schools have followed suit. But the closings disproportionately affect LGBTQ students, who are less likely in general to have supportive places to go home to.
“As a queer community, we have a long way to go. Oftentimes, for our youth, that means [they have] unfriendly places to go back home to from college — because at college at least maybe they’ve created a community, a group of friends, a support system,” said Shane Windmeyer, founder and executive director of Campus Pride. But sometimes “these situations or crises happen where students are asked to go home, and sometimes they don’t have a home to go to.”
What to do when LGBTQ students don’t have anywhere to go
The collective action by institutions of higher learning has triggered a panic among many queer students who have been forced to find alternative housing, medical providers, and even employment.
One of those students was Cooper, a 20-year-old junior attending DePauw University, a private college in Greencastle, Indiana. Cooper lives in on-campus housing and depends on a work-study job for income while he attends school. But the university’s decision to close meant scrambling to find basic accommodations.
“There had been rumors circulating between students that our university was going to cancel classes, but it kind of blindsided all of us,” he said. On March 12, DePauw gave students until March 20 to clear out, according to a university spokesperson. But then on March 15, the CDC issued a two-day travel advisory and the university informed students that they needed to leave the following day. It caught everyone off-guard.
“I am lucky enough to have a support system in Indianapolis, but I rely on this institution for my therapy, for medical treatment, and my whole support system is on campus,” he said. “There are other trans people I know on campus that aren’t lucky enough to have people they can stay with, that have families that have either kicked them out or they have to go back to being in the closet when they get home.”
At the same time, Cooper knows that closing campus was the right call to protect vulnerable people from Covid-19. “I completely understand the need for taking us off campus because there’ve been a lot of cases in the central Indiana area and they don’t want to risk a student getting infected. I get that they want to slow the spread of a pandemic. That being said, our university specifically seems to have given no options” for LGBTQ students who rely on the campus’s services. (The DePauw spokesperson told Vox that students were allowed to apply to stay on campus after the March 20 deadline, prioritizing international students, students who live far away from campus, students who do not have internet or other safe housing available, students who need access to special equipment to complete coursework, and others with extenuating circumstances.)
Different administrations have taken on different policies. Many schools have allowed international students and students with nowhere else to go to stay on campus. After initial vagueness when answering questions from a student reporter about housing for LGBTQ students, a spokesperson from Boston College, a Jesuit school in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts, told Vox that they were able to accommodate all of the LGBTQ students who applied to stay on campus during the outbreak. Nearby Northeastern University in Boston announced last Wednesday that students could also stay on campus if they needed to.
Ultimately, the level of support parents offer their LGBTQ kids dictates the decision-making process for how LGBTQ students handle their campuses shutting down in the wake of the pandemic. While many students are able to find alternative housing, some are forced to go back into the closet in order to move home with their parents.“THESE SITUATIONS OR CRISES HAPPEN WHERE STUDENTS ARE ASKED TO GO HOME, AND SOMETIMES THEY DON’T HAVE A HOME TO GO TO”
Such is the case for Cal, a 20-year-old gender nonbinary student attending the University of Utah. Cal’s parents are conservative Christians, and Cal has never come out to them.
“I don’t think that they’ve earned that from me,” Cal told Vox. “I have repeatedly, time and time again, heard them say things about the queer community in general that did not resound with their quote ‘unconditional love.’ So that has discouraged me from being completely honest with them.”
Before Utah transitioned to online-classes, Cal was living in off-campus housing. It was a very supportive situation, and they attended a support group for trans and nonbinary students on campus.
Cal now finds themself living in their childhood bedroom again, trying to finish out the school year online. Cal is also now unemployed, having lost their on-campus job as a barista and any progress toward becoming a certified lab assistant, which means they can’t afford their off-campus housing. They had also planned on starting the application process for graduate school soon, but the shutdown has put those plans on hold as well.
Even with their life unraveling, they still think essentially shutting down the campus was the right call (a university spokesperson told Vox that the school has kept open its residence hall and dining services). “Despite the fact that it’s kind of destroying my life right now, I think that it will be easier for me to recover than somebody who could get the disease and perhaps not survive from it.”
In response to the pandemic and subsequent campus closings, some people have taken to offering their homes to LGBTQ students with nowhere else to go. In Washington, DC, locals organized a Google form to assist with housing students who can’t remain in student housing at nearby American University.
Windmeyer said that even when universities are strained under emergency circumstances, there’s often a queer community if not on, then around, campus that’s ready and willing to help. “I do think that in times of crisis that asking or making sure that you let people that you trust know your situation, many times through that openness and trust, people are able to come together and help each other,” he said.
In other words, queer students are doing what they’ve always done in times of crisis: turning to their communities for resources. That’s what Alexis ended up doing. She reached out to a local group offering direct support for students in need when Covid-19 cases first began popping up in Michigan. “I was like, ‘Oh, well I’ll reach out to them and see what we can do.’ And they hooked me up with a person who is generous enough to let me stay here.”
As millions of students see their lives turned upside-down by a global pandemic, queer and trans students are facing additional challenges. But they’re surviving through solidarity, a lesson that everyone will need to learn to overcome what’s ahead.
The National Black Justice Coalition and Black Policy Lab, a project of Pink Cornrows, has announced a new initiative to gather data on one of the most vulnerable populations in the COVID-19 pandemic, Black LGBTQ+ and same gender loving (SGL) people. COVID while Black and Queer will find crucial data on how Black LGBTQ/SGL people are weathering the pandemic at a time when data shows that Black communities make up 60% of the COVID-19 deaths in the United States.
“Existing data from this crisis has already proven what many of us have already known: Black communities continue to be the least supported and most exploited—more Black people are testing positive and dying as a result of the virus and we should expect that existing data is undercounting what’s more likely the reality given the history of Black communities not being targeted for testing and data collection” said David J. Johns, Executive Director of the National Black Justice Coalition. “What we know now is important; however, to protect all Black people, we need data on specific needs and experiences of Black LGBTQ and same gender loving people.”
The new survey will build on the Black Policy Lab’s ongoing COVID while Black initiative, which has surveyed hundreds of Black Americans in the past weeks. “Data is a powerful tool, but often isn’t the full story. Traditional empirical research and interpretation methods are not without bias, and frequently disseminated without insight from our community,” said Ifeoma Ike, attorney, researcher, and Founder of Black Policy Lab. “COVID while Black was launched to invite traditionally underrepresented and over-impacted communities to provide important data and narratives about their own lives. This valuable qualitative input does not limit our Black experiences to just statistics, but instead allows us to see trends and opportunities that hopefully will inform policymakers tasked with recovery and restoration efforts.”
Unlike other surveys, COVID while Black, for example, also allows respondents to share the names of loved ones who were ill, essential workers serving on the front lines, and those who have transitioned, contributing to a virtual homegoing experience at a time where mass gatherings are prohibited and for communities who heal, in part, by coming together.
Previous data has shown that Black people are disproportionately experiencing the severest health impacts of the disease with systemic racism within healthcare, inequalities resulting in health disparities and Black people disproportionately working in ‘essential’ jobs as major contributing factors. We also know that historically Black communities are not targeted for testing or democratized health care.
Past research has shown that LGBTQ/SGL Americans also experience underlying health disparities that increase the likelihood of testing positive for and suffering as a result of COVID19. LGBGTQ/SGL Americans are more likely to be smokers—a high risk factor—and work minimum wage jobs. Transgender people especially face widespread workplace discrimination, are more likely to be incarcerated, and more than 1 in 4 transgender people have reported being denied healthcare due to their gender identity. Black LGBTQ people also predominantly live in the South where it is legal to deny access to employment, public housing, and medical services on the basis of actual or perceived sexual identity, gender orientation, and gender expression. These are the states that are rushing to open while investing the least in targeted testing and treatment.
This new survey aims to reveal new data on how Black LGBTQ/SGL people have been affected to inform policy decisions and necessary shifts in practice. Black Policy Lab will soon launch a series of virtual summits to discuss survey results, solutions, and design policy recommendations.
Emma thought that going off to Carleton College would be the beginning of a new life. The 18-year-old trans girl had struggled to come out in high school after repeated outings to her strict Italian Catholic parents in New Jersey.
“Those were difficult,” she told Vox. “I like to say that I negotiated my way back into the closet” to finish high school.
She thought college would become her salvation and chose the liberal arts school of about 2,000 students in Northfield, Minnesota, because of a visit, during one of her tours, to the on-campus LGBTQ center.
While Emma’s dad accompanied her on the tour, he decided to spend a little time alone in town, at which point the admissions officer offered to bring her to the center.
“Meeting some very happy, very out, very successful and well-situated trans people was very important to me,” she said. “[That] ended up really selling me on the school.”
Once there, the center helped her explore and figure out a plan for coming out more broadly, and connect with other queer and transgender students. Things moved quickly for Emma, who said it only took her about a month to start asking people to refer to her with her new name and she/her pronouns. Her parents accused her of getting taken in by a cult and threatened to stop paying her tuition.
During an extended Thanksgiving break, Emma’s parents dangled her tuition in front of her like a “carrot on a string,” so she lied and agreed to go back to school as a male student — an agreement she quickly went back on once she had returned to school.
However, the coronavirus pandemic threw a wrench into her plan once Carleton decided to move to online classes on March 18. The college freshman is now back home — and back in the closet — because of Covid-19, cut off from the school LGBTQ center where she had met many of her friends and received emotional support.
Having a space where LGBTQ people can simply exist in their own skin and experience, without judgment or pressure to hide for the benefit of cisgender, heterosexual people, can be enormously beneficial.
But in recent months, queer and trans people have been feeling the loss of affirming LGBTQ spaces since cities and states began shutting down nonessential public spaces in mid-March.
Queer bars, LGBTQ centers, and affirming sexual and specialized health clinics are closed because of the pandemic. Pride celebrations all over the country, and the world, have been canceled, often replaced by virtual online events. At the moment, the safest physical place to be — at least in terms of avoiding contracting the virus — is at home, which for some queer folks is not a safe space at all, and for others serves as a callback to a previous time when LGBTQ people could not safely reveal themselves to be queer in public.
Like Emma, Max Meyer, a 25-year-old nonbinary grad student, has watched the trans support group they ran at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, the Campus Union for Trans Equality and Support (CUTES), shut down. In response, Meyer helped the group set up a Discord server to facilitate voice and text communications. But like Emma, many of the group’s students don’t have a safe home environment in which to discuss their queer identity over a computer.“MEETING SOME VERY HAPPY, VERY OUT, VERY SUCCESSFUL AND WELL-SITUATED TRANS PEOPLE WAS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME”
As a result, only about five people regularly participate in the group’s Discord meetings, a contrast to the up to 30 who would attend in-person meetings. The pandemic “raises barriers for being able to reach out and get any kind of trans support,” Meyer said. It’s “further isolating an already marginalized group away from resources, support, and people with similar experiences.”
Before the pandemic shut down the school, Meyer had been lobbying the university to allow preferred names on diplomas, but now those plans have been scuttled. Meyer is also scared for next year’s crop of incoming trans students who may not be able to access the group’s resources. Not having the CUTES physical space “really increases how much effort it takes for somebody who might be unsure or questioning to reach out and get any kind of help,” they said.
With universities planning how to handle the start of this year’s fall semester, there’s a growing concern over how best to support trans students like Emma and Max. But the concern also applies to other critical areas of the LGBTQ community, from queer bars to sexual health spaces. This pattern of queer people getting cut off from critical and affirming resources is being repeated all over the country due to the pandemic.
Queer sobriety is difficult to manage during the pandemic
Damian Jack is a 40-year-old cis gay black man living in New York City. He’s also 20 months sober and in recovery. He’s been attending regular Tuesday night sobriety support meetings at the Center, an LGBTQ community center in Manhattan’s West Village since October 2018.
Jack said that before he started working toward recovery, he pushed everyone who loved him out of his life and felt utterly alone. But through the support meetings at the Center, which he says are typically 99 percent attended by queer people, he’s been able to build a core group of friends and people he can lean on.
That support has been critical for his recovery. “My journey toward recovery, it has been long in getting here,” he told Vox. “The community itself is really what helped me a lot. And that was something that I looked everywhere else to find.”
According to 2015 data from the National Survey on Drug Use and Health, lesbian, gay, and bisexual people were twice as likely (39.1 percent to 17.1 percent) as heterosexual adults to have used illicit drugs within the past year. Additionally, a 2013 US Census Bureau surveyfound that a higher percentage of LGBTQ adults between ages 18 and 64 reported past-year binge drinking, which was defined as consuming five or more alcoholic beverages in one sitting, than heterosexual adults.
But the Center closed its doors on March 13. The loss of that critical queer recovery space, Jack said, has pushed quite a few people off the wagon again. “There are a lot of people who are suffering because of the lack of connection,” he said.
In response to the pandemic, Jack’s support group moved to regular Zoom meetings, which he said is a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, participation in meetings has expanded thanks to connections to people outside the city through LGBTQ sobriety Facebook groups like “Gay and Sober.” Where once there were usually 20 to 100 people at the in-person meetings depending on which day of the week it was held, Jack said there are about 60 people who show up on Zoom thanks to attendance from people who live too far away to attend the Manhattan-based meetings.
It’s also allowed Jack some freedom to work later on Tuesday nights, because if he misses the New York meeting, he can now hop on Zoom to attend a Los Angeles-based meeting held later in the evening.
But without that personal connection, Jack said, it’s difficult for those who may be early in their recovery journeys. “If I were to be getting sober now, it would probably be the hardest thing for me because of the fact that I needed the community around me. That was something that I searched for my entire life, and I needed that,” Jack said.
Jack said going to an LGBTQ recovery group was important for his journey to sobriety because he felt like he could be more vulnerable and authentic there compared to a cis het space. “I didn’t have much of a problem interacting with straight people when I was sober, just because I could always put on my, ‘Oh, yeah, I’m a silly gay man’ [persona],” he said.
But the group taught him how to interact with other gay people without constantly having a drink in his hand. “I was never around any gay people while I was sober; this was my first time doing that. I didn’t really have the necessary tools to communicate because I didn’t know how to communicate with anyone in a community that I was so ashamed of.”
So Jack said he tries to take newbies on socially distanced walks in the city as often as possible. “A lot of people are relapsing,” he said, thinking of one person from his group in particular. “He’s like, ‘I don’t feel connected.’”
“SARS-CoV-2 isn’t the only pathogen that we need to be mindful of right now”
For their own health, it’s recommended that queer cis men and trans women, especially, get tested regularly for sexually transmitted infections (STIs). In the 1980s, as it is now, it was important to have sexual health providers who would treat LGBTQ people without harassment, in order to contain a different deadly virus without a treatment or vaccine — HIV/AIDS.
Many of the testing protocols now being deployed to fight Covid-19 were first developed to fight the spread of HIV. But while everyone is rightly focused on the disease caused by the novel coronavirus, New York City-based sexual health advocate Jeremiah Johnson, HIV project director at the Treatment Action Group, said it’s important that queer people not lose sight of their own sexual health needs.
“When it comes to addressing sexual health services for marginalized communities, it’s always such a stigmatized topic, and we experience so much judgment and marginalization from health care systems that do not fully respect queer people,” said Johnson. “Frequently, the way that we access those services is to go to specific clinics and community-oriented clinics where we know that we’re going to get compassionate care that is reflective of our communities and fully accepting of our whole selves.”
That has become more difficult, Johnson said, because of Covid-19. “In this crisis scenario, underrepresented and historically marginalized communities have even greater dangers of being pushed to the margins and not having their needs addressed,” he told Vox.
“WHEN IT COMES TO ADDRESSING SEXUAL HEALTH SERVICES FOR MARGINALIZED COMMUNITIES … WE EXPERIENCE SO MUCH JUDGMENT AND MARGINALIZATION FROM HEALTH CARE SYSTEMS THAT DO NOT FULLY RESPECT QUEER PEOPLE”
While many sexual health clinics are still open for emergency services, like prescriptions for post-exposure prophylactics, which helps prevent transmission of HIV after contact with an infected person, and Plan B contraceptives, routine STI screenings are not considered emergency services.
“Particularly, within all of this disruption we’re seeing now, it’s difficult to get a picture of just how impacted queer communities have been in terms of accessing the unique health care services that we depend on to take care of our emotional, spiritual, physical, sexual, and health care,” Johnson said.
Further complicating matters, he said, it’s hard to tell at this point how people are behaving sexually while under stay-at-home orders and other social distancing measures. Additionally, most of the nation’s 2,200 contact tracers have shifted their focus away from STD tracking to focus on Covid-19. That could be a recipe for an STD outbreak that won’t be caught until regular testing can resume.
“We’ve seen a substantive decline in the number of new diagnoses for sexually transmitted infections in New York City, which is probably more likely a product of a lack of testing, rather than an actual reduction in the number of those infections,” said Johnson.
Johnson worries that once the Covid-19 pandemic is over and regular testing begins again, we could see a surge in the number of new STIs. “SARS-CoV-2 isn’t the only pathogen that we need to be mindful of right now,” he said.
Gay bars have been central to the LGBTQ community since Stonewall. The pandemic has ripped that connection away.
My favorite queer space, a queer women’s bar called A League of Her Own, nestled in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of Washington, DC, has been closed since the city shut down all its bars and restaurants on March 30. The bar, affectionately known by its acronym “ALOHO,” was the place where my friends and I met and hung out semi-regularly, providing a welcoming home amid political attacks on LGBTQ people from the somewhat nearby White House.
The staff at ALOHO have experienced a sense of loss of the community that found itself in the basement of its gay male sibling bar, Pitchers. “I definitely, personally have had [some] struggle days,” said bar manager Jo McDaniel, who has tried to stay connected to her regulars through a weekly Instagram Live broadcast every Wednesday, which she films on-site at ALOHO. “Just being in the space makes me nostalgic and sad and all over the place. There’s a huge amount of loss.”
Queer women’s bars were already closing at an alarming rate over the past decade. ALOHO is one of only two lesbian bars in DC. NBC News estimated in early May that there are just 16 queer women’s bars in the US, down from a peak of 200in the 1980s. Though ALOHO is financially safe for now — the bar’s owner has applied for a PPP loan — McDaniel thinks that several of the small handful of queer women’s bars may not survive the pandemic.
In fact, two DC gay bars catering to men, DC Eagles and Secrets, have already announced they will not reopen once the city does. In San Francisco, the city’s oldest gay bar, the Stud, which has been open for 55 years, announced this week that it will permanently close because of Covid-19.
DC recently extended its order keeping bars closed through June 8, but McDaniel hopes the bar’s regular patrons know that the staff is still around for support. “People would come in and sort of share their problems with their bartenders, like slide into the DMs,” she said. “We’re all very public in terms of social media and we’re all still here.”
For now, the Instagram Live posts offer a brief chance for the bar’s community to reconnect. “What’s really cool is watching people who are viewing the Live chat with each other in the comments,” she said. “That’s been the thing that’s really been awesome for me is to see people essentially see each other virtually.”
As queer and trans people continue to navigate the coronavirus pandemic, those who can are trying to help others stay connected. Meanwhile, there are a lot of queer and trans people who have been put in unhealthy and potentially dangerous situations just to have a roof over their heads. Losing queer spaces exacerbates the stresses many were already facing before this.
For now, Emma is staying in the closet while living at home with her parents, but she can’t help but pine for the escape she once thought she had at school. “I had this lifeline at Carleton, where things were going to be better and I was going to go there and be myself and it was going to be really good,” she said, thinking about her current situation. “[There’s] definitely despair. I’m just awash in it.”
In a surprise order on Thursday, the U.S. Supreme Court refused to grant the state of Idaho’s request to block gender reassignment surgery for a transgender inmate, which lower courts affirmed is her right to obtain under the Eighth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.
The one-page order indicates the state’s request was submitted to U.S. Associate Justice Elena Kagan, who referred the matter to the entire court. The application for a stay, however, was denied.
It would have taken a majority vote of at least five justices to have granted the stay, but the vote isn’t recorded. According to the order, U.S. Associate Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito “would grant the application” to halt the procedure.
The request was filed in the case of Edmo v. Idaho Department of Correction, which was filed by Adree Edmo, a Native American transgender woman who’s been the custody of the Idaho Department of Correction since April 2012.
Previously, U.S. District Judge Lynn Winmill in Idaho ruled in December 2018 requiring the Idaho Department of Correction and its medical provider Corizon to the surgery to Edmo with six months, although that surgery has yet to take place as that litigation has continued.
Although the Ninth Circuit affirmed that decision, it had placed a stay on the injunction requiring the surgery under its mandate was handed down. That occurred in February, which led Idaho to seek a stay from the Supreme Court to halt the procedure.
The litigation on behalf of Edmo was filed by National Center for Lesbian Rights along with Rifkin Law Office, Hadsell Stormer and Renick LLP, and Ferguson Durham, PLLC.
Lori Rifkin, lead attorney for Edmo, said in a statement the Supreme Court “appropriately declined the state’s request for a stay that would have prevented Ms. Edmo from getting the care she needs.”
“Because the lower court decisions applied settled Eighth Amendment precedent to the facts of this case, there is no basis for further review of those careful and detailed decisions,” Rifkin said.
Amy Whelan, senior staff attorney for the National Center for Lesbian Rights, said in a statement Edmo will now “get medically necessary surgery that she has needed for years.”
“The lower courts found, based on extensive evidence and proof, that the Idaho Department of Corrections and Corizon Health are violating Ms. Edmo’s constitutional rights by withholding this critical medical care,” Whelan said. “Today’s decision means that the state can no longer delay in providing care that is essential to Ms. Edmo’s health, safety, and well-being.”
“As every court to consider this case has found, the balance of hardships swings heavily in one direction: each day applicants withhold necessary medical treatment, Adree Edmo suffers irreparable harm,” the brief says. “After two attempts at self-castration — including one in which Ms. Edmo ‘was able to open her testicle sac with a razor blade and remove one testicle’ before ‘abandon[ing] her attempt…when there was too much blood to continue,’…Edmo is finally scheduled to receive the surgery she needs in July 2020.”
Idaho Attorney General Lawrence Wasden, on the same day the order was handed down, filed a brief before the Supreme Court urging justices to grant the stay, calling arguments from Edmo’s attorneys “a facade of cherry-picked statements, mischaracterized facts and misread cases.”
“Respondent cites to the possibility of self-harm, as well as daily distress until receiving surgery,” Wasden said. “But, it remains undisputed that staying the surgery will not foreclose respondent from undergoing the surgery in the near future if this court affirms the injunction or, alternatively, upon her release from prison next year. A delay in implementation of the injunction does not constitute irreparable harm.”
A Wasden spokesperson declined to comment on the Supreme Court order that was issued against the state.
Although the Supreme Court denying Idaho’s request for a stay, the state’s petition to review the case remains pending before justices. It’s hard to see the basis for which the litigation could continue if Edmo receives gender reassignment surgery now that the stay against the order is lifted.
The Supreme Court declined to block transgender surgery as the issue over whether the procedure is constitutionally required for inmates who request it remains continues to percolate. It seems likely the Supreme Court will soon take up a vehicle to decide the issue once-and-for all at a national level.
The Ninth Circuit is not the only circuit to have affirmed denying gender reassignment surgery to prisoners is contrary to the Eighth Amendment. However, First, Fifth and Eleventh Circuits have ruled the other way and determined prison systems can deny the procedure to inmates. (A three-judge panel on the First Circuit initially ruled in favor of granting transgender surgeries to inmates, but that was overturned December 2014 in an “en banc” decision.)
It’s not the first time the U.S. Supreme Court has acted on gender reassignment surgery for transgender inmates, although previously it went the other way. In May 2015, the Supreme Court refused to hear the case of Michelle Kosilek, a transgender inmate who was denied surgery by the Massachusetts Department of Corrections.