Local
Casualties of war
Gay Iraqi, shot helping U.S., seeks fresh start in D.C. area
Firas Abdulmajeed, 33, a gay Iraqi refugee, has been in the U.S. for a month. A computer science expert, Abdulmajeed lost a leg to the Shiites while working as a translator for the U.S. Army in Baghdad. He’s now trying to find work in the Washington area. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)
Firas Abdulmajeed wants to make one thing clear up front: He’s not looking for a handout, just a job.
The 33-year-old gay Iraqi refugee, who fled to Alexandria, Va. a month ago with his 68-year-old mother after living six years in the United Arab Emirates, has faced an uphill battle most of his life. His home country was ravaged by war for most of his formative years; he lived under the violent regime of Saddam Hussein; and he suffered within a virulently anti-gay society that told him his same-sex desires were demonic.
Things have calmed for Abdulmajeed since he arrived in the U.S., but huge obstacles remain. While fluent in English and possessing the proper papers to work here, he suffered a life-changing gunshot wound in his native Iraq on July 21, 2003, that eventually required a below-the-knee amputation of his left leg.
The loss had an incalculably negative effect on Abdulmajeed’s life. He sometimes wishes the wound had been fatal.
He has a bachelor’s degree in computer science that he earned from Al Mansour University in his hometown of Baghdad, but Abdulmajeed says he’d be happy taking any job that doesn’t require him to stand and walk for any length of time. Infection and shoddy medical care after the injury — he’s certain his leg could have been saved had he received proper care — resulted in 17 operations, years of excruciating pain and a series of ill-fitting prosthetics that offer little help.
He met James Jorkasky, a gay Arlington resident, at a grocery store in Northern Virginia two weeks ago. Jorkasky, a lobbyist for medical research funding, could see Abdulmajeed was struggling to walk and started their conversation. He’s been using his contacts to help Abdulmajeed find a job, see an orthopedic surgeon and get a proper-fitting prosthetic leg.
“I’m really pushy and nosy, so I asked a lot of questions and found out a lot,” Jorkasky says. “I just thought maybe I could help.”
Abdulmajeed says knew he was gay around age 13. He was athletic and enjoyed swimming. He soon realized he was attracted to men he saw at the pool — and thought he was the only person in the world who felt this way. Confiding to the head of his mosque about his desires proved disastrous.
“He started shouting, ‘You are the devil,’ and kicked me out. I felt awful and embarrassed. So it was a hard time.”
The development came during Hussein-era Iraq, which natives regard as something of a mixed bag. Abdulmajeed says many Iraqis prefer it to the violence and chaos that has engulfed the country since the U.S. invasion. Even gay life was better then, he says.
“There was a gay community and a gay cruising area. In the Saddam time it was better. If you were gay and don’t talk about the government or Saddam, you were safe. Now both the Sunnis and Shiites are against that and want to show the Islamic world they are brave so they kill gay people.”
Abdulmajeed moved to Dubai after college, working various administrative jobs, but came back to Iraq just before the U.S. invasion in 2002. By March 2003, communication was down and Abdulmajeed, who lived with his parents again in Baghdad, visited a hotel to try to learn the whereabouts of relatives. Though Muslim, Abdulmajeed had attended a Catholic school and studied English. He also studied in Dubai and honed his speaking skills watching U.S. movies.
Abdulmajeed approached a U.S. Army officer and asked him in English if it was possible to make an international call at the hotel. In turn, the officer gave him an offer to work for the U.S. as a translator. Abdulmajeed became one of a team of Iraqi translators working in an Army contracting office in the Green Zone, Iraq’s international 3.8 square-mile zone in Baghdad.
While the work went well, it quickly became obvious to Abdulmajeed, a Sunni Muslim, that the Shiites did not approve of his work for the U.S. His new car was stolen, which he says may have had nothing to do with his work, but about three weeks later, a small bomb was thrown into his family’s house. Intimidating notes were sent to him. Still, he didn’t consider quitting.
“I think I was doing a good job and the officers in the contracting office, they were really nice people,” he says. “I wanted to help the Iraqis, and they always try to support Iraqi vendors, so I think it was [a] really good job, ethically, as I am Iraqi and also the payment was good.
“I didn’t understand the message — or maybe I was ignoring the message — as I [had] a chance to have [a] promotion to work with the USA embassy in Baghdad, as I was a hard worker.”
‘I’ll never forget his face’
The attack that claimed part of Abdulmajeed’s left leg happened quickly.
It was a Saturday in July 2003 and extremely hot. Abdulmajeed was waiting for a taxi to take him to his office in the Green Zone. He remembers thinking it would be a busy day, more like a Monday because the office was closed on Sunday, so there’d be extra work. On this day, he was to accompany a U.S. officer to a construction site.
He remembers thinking how hot it would likely be in the Humvee without air conditioning.
Without warning, a Shiite he’d never seen before came face to face with him carrying a gun. After reciting a Muslim creed (“I believe in one god, one prophet Mohammad…”), he pointed at Abdulmajeed’s left leg and shot him.
“I’ll never forget his face,” Abdulmajeed says. “He didn’t cover his face or try to hide. By the chance that a police [officer] was there it didn’t matter, because there was no government at that time. I didn’t feel it, actually. I just fell and my feet were moving kind of automatically. I was confused, then I start seeing blood over my jeans and I knew something was wrong. He was so close to me he could have easily shot me in the head and nobody would have stopped him.”
A neighbor helped Abdulmajeed get to a hospital by taxi, but staff there had few supplies and said they could do nothing for him. He was taken to another hospital where he stayed for six months. It was the beginning of a grueling ordeal that continues today.
Painkillers were in short supply. He was given one pill a day. He cut it in half and took half in the morning and half in the evening. Some of the 17 surgeries were performed without any anesthetic. His mother stayed with him around-the-clock at the hospital — a blessing and curse as he felt he had to mask his true emotions so she wouldn’t see him in agony.
“You act as if you don’t care because your parents are watching,” he says. “They want to know how you feel and you feel down but you cannot show it, the things in my heart, so I just smile and [was] joking.”
Aside from the physical pain, there were other scars. Just 26 years old at the time, Abdulmajeed realized he’d never again enjoy his hobbies of swimming and tennis. He also thought it would affect his desirability in the gay world.
“Maybe if I were straight it would be easier, but as a gay, it’s worse because it’s hard to be gay and beauty is so hard, and at that time I was thinking about my future, which I lost it already. I lost my job and every dream I had in my life.”
By July 2003, many doctors had fled Iraq or had been killed. A steel rod was inserted into Abdulmajeed’s leg, but he says that turned out to be a mistake as the wound should have been kept open. A gangrene-like infection set in and the muscle started dying. The infection caused a foul smell that scared away visitors. And though he’d had a boyfriend for about 18 months prior to the shooting, Abdulmajeed was dumped while he was in the hospital.
“He sent a message through a friend and said, ‘I can’t be with an amputee guy,’“ Abdulmajeed recalls.
Within a few weeks, he also lost his Army job, since being in the hospital prevented him from performing his duties.
Upon his release from the hospital, Abdulmajeed found a cheap prosthetic in Iraq, but it required a size 10 shoe and Abdulmajeed’s shoes were one size too small. He was able to walk with the aid of a stick and also used a wheelchair.
A relative arranged for him to come to the UAE in July 2004, but he faced an anti-handicap prejudice.
“It’s the Mediterranean mentality,” he says. “They don’t even call you by name. They just say, ‘Amputee.’ That really affected me a lot but I don’t have another choice. I couldn’t go back to Iraq and I was only allowed to stay in the UAE as long as I had a job.”
Abdulmajeed’s father, a retired civil engineer, was kidnapped in November 2006 after Abdulmajeed left for the UAE. The circumstances surrounding his disappearance remain unclear, but his mother was ordered to pay $30,000 to get him back. She followed the instructions to drive to a spot two hours from her house with the money. They were supposed to send her husband an hour after getting the money. She never saw him again.
Abdulmajeed says the tragedies were nearly too much to bear.
“We never even saw his body or know whatever happened to him. Surely he’s not still alive after all these years. So this old lady, she loses her husband and her son lost his leg for no reason. I didn’t do any mistake. If I was fighting or a soldier, that would be one thing, but I was a civilian. And my father, a Shiite kidnapped him because he was Sunni.
“It really affects your way of thinking, your dreams that you will get freedom. We don’t even need the freedom, just safety. And you can’t imagine the temperature. It’s 110 and there’s no electricity.”
Abdulmajeed eventually was able to have his mother join him in UAE in January 2007, but she was never the same.
“She lost it sometimes,” he says. “If I come in from work, I go inside the home and heard her speaking with my father. She imagines him there. So this is a problem.”
‘I don’t want charity’
Life stabilized for the two in UAE, but uncertainty loomed as their ability to remain there depended on Abdulmajeed staying employed, which he was able to do.
In 2007, he applied to a refugee program with the United Nations to come to the U.S. It was three years before his application was approved, but he and his mother, who has diabetes, high blood pressure and a heart condition, were able to come to the U.S. last month.
The two have little between them. He has a permanent Visa for refugees and a work permit, a few pieces of furniture, eight months of health insurance and food stamps.
“I don’t want charity or a handout,” Abdulmajeed says emphatically. “I just want a desk job, even data entry. Nothing fancy, just [enough] to cover expenses and to live here.
“About this point: I’m not looking for charity or donation. If someone wants to help, I need the jobs. Not because they’re sorry I lost my leg or am an amputee, but because he feels I desire a chance to prove myself. Only that. The day that I feel I can’t offer the life here, that’s the day I should go back to Iraq or wherever, but I don’t want charity.”
Jorkasky says he’s been amazed at his friend’s drive.
“I’ve never seen such a quick study on anything,” he says. “He soaks up everything I give him. I think somebody would get themselves and excellent, smart, dedicated worker.”
Jorkasky hopes the local LGBT community will help Abdulmajeed get the aid he needs.
Abdulmajeed’s new life is modest by American standards. He and his mother love the country and have been amazed by what they say are friendly, smiling people. He enjoys simple freedoms like visiting a garden near the apartment building where he lives. He’s been to no gay clubs since arriving. Jorkasky is his only gay friend. He knows one other Iraqi here.
“Sometimes I just sit there in the garden and I have this feeling how great it is do to anything or talking about anything gay or whatever in public,” he says. “I don’t have this feeling before, so this kind of freedom, it’s a great feeling everybody wants since childhood.
“I think there are a lot of Americans who may not agree with the war or the invasion of Iraq, but whatever your politics are, what gets lost in the equation a lot of times are the real casualties,” Jorkasky says. “I think everybody in the D.C. gay community should just take a step back and look at their lives and realize what they have compared to the incredible struggle that Firas has had. One of our brothers is suffering right now and needs our help.”
Job leads can be sent to Abdulmajaeed at [email protected] or Jorkasky at [email protected].
District of Columbia
Catching up with the asexuals and aromantics of D.C.
Exploring identity and finding community
There was enough commotion in the sky at the Blossom Kite Festival that bees might have been pollinating the Washington Monument. I despaired of quickly finding the Asexuals and Aromantics of the Mid-Atlantic—I couldn’t make out a single asexual flag among the kites up above. I thought to myself that if it had been the Homosexuals of the Mid-Atlantic I would’ve had my gaydar to rely on. Was there even such a thing as ace-dar?
As it turned out, the asexual kite the group had meant to fly was a little too pesky to pilot. “Have you ever used a stunt kite?” Bonnie, the event organizer asked me. “I bought one. It looked really cool. But I can’t make it work.” She sighed. “I can’t get the thing six feet off the ground.” The group hardly seemed to care. There was caramel popcorn and cookies, board games and head massages, a game of charades with more than its fair share of Pokémon. The kites up above might as well have been a coincidental sideshow. Nearly two dozen folks filtered in and out of the picnic throughout the course of the day.
But I counted myself lucky that Bonnie picked me out of the crowd. If there’s such a thing as ace-dar, it eludes asexuals too. The online forum for all matters asexual, AVEN, or the Asexual Visibility and Education Network, is filled with laments: “I don’t think it’s possible.” “Dude, I wish I had an ace-dar.” “If it exists, I don’t have it.” “I think this is just like a broken clock is right twice a day type thing.” What seems to be a more common experience is meeting someone you just click with—only to find out later that they’re asexual. A few of the folks I met described how close childhood friends of theirs likewise came out in adulthood, a phenomenon that will be familiar to many queer people. But it is all the more astounding for asexuals to find each other this way, given that asexual people constitute 1.7% of sexual minorities in America, and so merely .1% of the population at large.
To help other asexuals identify you out in the world, some folks wear a black ring on their middle finger, much as an earring on the right ear used to signify homosexuality in a less welcoming era. The only problem? The swinger community—with its definite non-asexuality—has also adopted the signal. “It’s still a thing,” said Emily Karp. “So some people wear their ace rings just to the ace meet-ups.” Karp has been the primary coordinator for the Asexuals and Aromantics of the Mid-Atlantic (AAMA) since 2021, and a member of the meet-up for a decade. She clicked with the group immediately. After showing up for a Fourth of July potluck in the mid-afternoon, she ended up staying past midnight. “We played Cards against Humanity, which was a very, very fun thing to do. It’s funny in a way that’s different than if we were playing with people that weren’t ace. Some of the cards are implying, like, the person would be motivated by sex in a way that’s absurd, because we know they aren’t.”
Where so many social organizations withered during the pandemic, the AAMA flourished. Today, it boasts almost 2,000 members on meetup.com. Karp hypothesized that all the social isolation gave people copious time to reflect on themselves, and that the ease of meeting up online made it convenient as a way for people to explore their sexual identity and find community. Online events continue to make up about a third of the group’s meet-ups. The format allows people to participate who live farther out from D.C. And it allows people to participate at their preferred level of comfort: while many people participate much as they would at an in-person event, some prefer to watch anonymously, video feed off. Others prefer to participate in the chat box, though not in spoken conversation.
A recent online event was organized for a discussion of Rhaina Cohen’s book, “The Other Significant Others,” published in February. Cohen’s book discusses friendship as an alternative model for “significant others,” apart from the romantic model that is presupposed to be both the center and goal of people’s lives. The AAMA group received the book with enthusiasm. “It literally re-wired my brain,” as one person put it. People discussed the importance of friendship to their lives, and their difficulties in a world that de-prioritized friendship. “I can break up with a friend over text, and we don’t owe each other a conversation,” one said. But there was some disagreement when it came to the book’s discussion of romantic relationships. “It relegates ace relationships to the ‘friend’ or ‘platonic’ category, to the normie-reader,” one person wrote in the chat. “Our whole ace point is that we can have equivalent life relationships to allo people, simply without sex.” (“Allo” is shorthand for allosexual or alloromantic, people who do experience sexual or romantic attraction.)
The folks of the AAMA do not share a consensus on the importance of romantic relationships to their lives. Some asexuals identify as aromantic, some don’t. And some aromantics don’t identify as asexual, either. The “Aromantic” in the title of the group is a relatively recent addition. In 2017, the group underwent a number of big changes. The group was marching for the first time in D.C. Pride, participating in the LGBTQ Creating Change conference, and developing a separate advocacy and activism arm. Moreover, the group had become large enough that discussions were opened up into forming separate chapters for D.C., Central Virginia, and Baltimore. During those discussions, the group leadership realized that aromantic people who also identified as allosexual didn’t really have a space to call their own. “We were thinking it would be good to probably change the name of the Meetup group,” Emily said. “But we were not 100% sure. Because [there were] like 1,000 people in the group, and they’re all aces, and it’s like, ‘Do you really want to add a non-ace person?’” The group leadership decided to err on the side of inclusion. “You know, being less gatekeep-y was better. It gave them a place to go — because there was nowhere else to go.”
The DC LGBT Center now sponsors a support group for both asexuals and aromantics, but it was formed just a short while ago, in 2022. The founder of the group originally sought out the center’s bisexual support group, since they didn’t have any resources for ace folks. “The organizer said, you know what, why don’t we just start an ace/aro group? Like, why don’t we just do it?” He laughed. “I was impressed with the turnout, the first call. It’s almost like we tapped into, like, a dam. You poke a hole in the dam, and the water just rushes out.” The group has a great deal of overlap with the AAMA, but it is often a person’s first point of contact with the asexual and aromantic community in D.C., especially since the group focuses on exploring what it means to be asexual. Someone new shows up at almost every meeting. “And I’m so grateful that I did,” one member said. “I kind of showed up and just trauma dumped, and everyone was really supportive.”
Since the ace and aro community is so small, even within the broader queer community, ace and aro folks often go unrecognized. To the chagrin of many, the White House will write up fact sheets about the LGBTQI+ community, which is odd, given that when the “I” is added to the acronym, the “A” is usually added too. OKCupid has 22 genders and 12 orientations on its dating website, but “aromantic” is not one of them — presumably because aromantic people don’t want anything out of dating. And since asexuality and aromanticism are defined by the absence of things, it can seem to others like ace and aro people are ‘missing something.’ One member of the LGBT center support group had an interesting response. “The space is filled by… whatever else!” they said. “We’re not doing a relationship ‘without that thing.’ We’re doing a full scale relationship — as it makes sense to us.”
CJ Higgins is a postdoctoral fellow with the Alexander Grass Humanities Institute at Johns Hopkins University.
District of Columbia
Bowser budget proposal calls for $5.25 million for 2025 World Pride
AIDS office among agencies facing cuts due to revenue shortfall
D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser’s proposed fiscal year 2025 budget includes a request for $5.25 million in funding to support the June 2025 World Pride celebration, which D.C. will host, and which is expected to bring three million or more visitors to the city.
The mayor’s proposed budget, which she presented to the D.C. Council for approval earlier this month, also calls for a 7.6 percent increase in funding for the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs, which amounts to an increase of $132,000 and would bring the office’s total funding to $1.7 million. The office, among other things, provides grants to local organizations that provide services to the LGBTQ community.
Among the other LGBTQ-related funding requests in the mayor’s proposed budget is a call to continue the annual funding of $600,000 to provide workforce development services for transgender and gender non-conforming city residents “experiencing homelessness and housing instability.” The budget proposal also calls for a separate allocation of $600,000 in new funding to support a new Advanced Technical Center at the Whitman-Walker Health’s Max Robinson Center in Ward 8.
Among the city agencies facing funding cuts under the mayor’s proposed budget is the HIV/AIDS, Hepatitis, Sexually Transmitted Disease, and Tuberculosis Administration, known as HAHSTA, which is an arm of the D.C. Department of Health. LGBTQ and AIDS activists have said HAHSTA plays an important role in the city’s HIV prevention and support services. Observers familiar with the agency have said it recently lost federal funding, which the city would have to decide whether to replace.
“We weren’t able to cover the loss of federal funds for HAHSTA with local funds,” Japer Bowles, director of the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs, told the Washington Blade. “But we are working with partners to identify resources to fill those funding gaps,” Bowles said.
The total proposed budget of $21 billion that Bowser submitted to the D.C. Council includes about $500 million in proposed cuts in various city programs that the mayor said was needed to offset a projected $700 million loss in revenue due, among other things, to an end in pandemic era federal funding and commercial office vacancies also brought about by the post pandemic commercial property and office changes.
Bowser’s budget proposal also includes some tax increases limited to sales and business-related taxes, including an additional fee on hotel bookings to offset the expected revenue losses. The mayor said she chose not to propose an increase in income tax or property taxes.
Earlier this year, the D.C. LGBTQ+ Budget Coalition, which consists of several local LGBTQ advocacy organizations, submitted its own fiscal year 2025 budget proposal to both Bowser and the D.C. Council. In a 14-page letter the coalition outlined in detail a wide range of funding proposals, including housing support for LGBTQ youth and LGBTQ seniors; support for LGBTQ youth homeless services; workforce and employment services for transgender and gender non-conforming residents; and harm reduction centers to address the rise in drug overdose deaths.
Another one of the coalition’s proposals is $1.5 million in city funding for the completion of the D.C. Center for the LGBTQ Community’s new building, a former warehouse building in the city’s Shaw neighborhood that is undergoing a build out and renovation to accommodate the LGBTQ Center’s plans to move in later this year. The coalition’s budget proposal also calls for an additional $300,000 in “recurring” city funding for the LGBTQ Center in subsequent years “to support ongoing operational costs and programmatic initiatives.”
Bowles noted that Bowser authorized and approved a $1 million grant for the LGBTQ Center’s new building last year but was unable to provide additional funding requested by the budget coalition for the LGBTQ Center for fiscal year 2025.
“We’re still in this with them,” Bowles said. “We’re still looking and working with them to identify funding.”
The total amount of funding that the LGBTQ+ Budget Coalition listed in its letter to the mayor and Council associated with its requests for specific LGBTQ programs comes to $43.1 million.
Heidi Ellis, who serves as coordinator of the coalition, said the coalition succeeded in getting some of its proposals included in the mayor’s budget but couldn’t immediately provide specific amounts.
“There are a couple of areas I would argue we had wins,” Ellis told the Blade. “We were able to maintain funding across different housing services, specifically around youth services that affect folks like SMYAL and Wanda Alston.” She was referring to the LGBTQ youth services group SMYAL and the LGBTQ organization Wanda Alston Foundation, which provides housing for homeless LGBTQ youth.
“We were also able to secure funding for the transgender, gender non-conforming workforce program,” she said. “We also had funding for migrant services that we’ve been advocating for and some wins on language access,” said Ellis, referring to programs assisting LGBTQ people and others who are immigrants and aren’t fluent in speaking English.
Ellis said that although the coalition’s letter sent to the mayor and Council had funding proposals that totaled $43.1 million, she said the coalition used those numbers as examples for programs and policies that it believes would be highly beneficial to those in the LGBTQ community in need.
“I would say to distill it down to just we ask for $43 million or whatever, that’s not an accurate picture of what we’re asking for,” she said. “We’re asking for major investments around a few areas – housing, healthcare, language access. And for capital investments to make sure the D.C. Center can open,” she said. “It’s not like a narrative about the dollar amounts. It’s more like where we’re trying to go.”
The Blade couldn’t’ immediately determine how much of the coalition’s funding proposals are included in the Bowser budget. The mayor’s press secretary, Daniel Gleick, told the Blade in an email that those funding levels may not have been determined by city agencies.
“As for specific funding levels for programs that may impact the LGBTQ community, such as individual health programs through the Department of Health, it is too soon in the budget process to determine potential adjustments on individual programs run though city agencies,” Gleick said.
But Bowles said several of the programs funded in the mayor’s budget proposal that are not LGBTQ specific will be supportive of LGBTQ programs. Among them, he said, is the budget’s proposal for an increase of $350,000 in funding for senior villages operated by local nonprofit organizations that help support seniors. Asked if that type of program could help LGBTQ seniors, Bowles said, “Absolutely – that’s definitely a vehicle for LGBTQ senior services.”
He said among the programs the increased funding for the mayor’s LGBTQ Affairs office will support is its ongoing cultural competency training for D.C. government employees. He said he and other office staff members conduct the trainings about LGBTQ-related issues at city departments and agencies.
Bowser herself suggested during an April 19 press conference that local businesses, including LGBTQ businesses and organizations, could benefit from a newly launched city “Pop-Up Permit Program” that greatly shortens the time it takes to open a business in vacant storefront buildings in the downtown area.
Bowser and Nina Albert, D.C. Deputy Mayor for Planning and Economic Development, suggested the new expedited city program for approving permits to open shops and small businesses in vacant storefront spaces could come into play next year when D.C. hosts World Pride, one of the word’s largest LGBTQ events.
“While we know that all special events are important, there is an especially big one coming to Washington, D.C. next year,” Bowser said at the press conference. “And to that point, we proposed a $5.25 million investment to support World Pride 2025,” she said, adding, “It’s going to be pretty great. And so, we’re already thinking about how we can include D.C. entrepreneurs, how we’re going to include artists, how we’re going to celebrate across all eight wards of our city as well,” she said.
Among those attending the press conference were officials of D.C.’s Capital Pride Alliance, which will play a lead role in organizing World Pride 2025 events.
Maryland
Health care for Marylanders with HIV is facing huge cuts this summer
Providers poised to lose three-quarters of funding
BY MEREDITH COHN | By the end of June, health care providers in Maryland will lose nearly three-quarters of the funding they use to find and treat thousands of people with HIV.
Advocates and providers say they had been warned there would be less money by the Maryland Department of Health, but were stunned at the size of the drop — from about $17.9 million this fiscal year to $5.3 million the next. The deep cuts are less than three months away.
The rest of this article can be read on the Baltimore Banner’s website.
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