News
ENDA witness to lead the Task Force’s trans project
Broadus was first trans person to testify on LGBT discrimination before the Senate


Kylar Broadus, the first trans person testify before the Senate on ENDA, has been tapped to lead the National Gay & Lesbian Task Force’s trans project (Blade file photo by Michael Key).
The first-ever transgender person to testify before the U.S. Senate on the Employment Non-Discrimination Act has been tapped by the National Gay & Lesbian Task Force to become head of its transgender initiative.
Kylar Broadus, a transgender man who founded the Missouri-based Trans People of Color Coalition, was named head of the Task Force’s Transgender Civil Rights Project, which provides strategy assistance for groups working to enact pro-trans policy and laws.
“I am extremely honored and excited to be working at the National Gay & Lesbian Task Force given its history in general as a progressive organization but particularly the leadership it has provided in the transgender movement,” Broadus said. “I intend to build off this great work and continue to make the Task Force a key player in the transgender movement.”
According to a bio provided by the Task Force, Broadus has engaged in his career as an activist, writer, lawyer, professor, lobbyist and public speaker. As a lawyer, Broadus had a focus on LGBT law — with a particular focus on transgender rights. He’s now serving as faculty at Lincoln University in Missouri.
Shannon Minter, legal director for the National Center for Lesbian Rights, had high praise for Broadus upon the news that he’d lead trans issues at the Task Force.
“Throughout his career, Kylar has continually developed cutting edge strategies to protect transgender people, worked to raise the visibility and leadership of transgender people of color, and demonstrated unfailing collegiality and collaboration,” Minter said. “He is a great leader, and I look forward to working with him closely in his new role at the Task Force.”
Last year, Broadus became the first openly transgender person to testify before the Senate on ENDA during a hearing that was set up Senate Health, Education, Labor & Pensions Committee Chair Tom Harkin (D-Iowa). At the time, he recalled the discrimination that he faced at a major financial institution when he announced that he would transition in 1995.
“At work, when I decided to actually transition, I had been there for a number of years, and I’m a workaholic, and it was disheartening to me that all this could be pulled out from under me because people weren’t comfortable with the person that I am,” Broadus said at time.
His written testimony details receiving harassing phone calls, receiving assignments after hours that were due early the next morning and being forbidden from talking to certain people.
During his testimony, Broadus called on Congress to pass ENDA to put into place federal workplace non-discrimination protections.
“I think it’s extremely important that this bill be passed to protect workers like me,” Broadus said at the time. “There are many cases that I hear everyday, and people call me everyday with these cases around the country because I’m also an attorney that practices and deals with people that suffer employment discrimination.”
District of Columbia
Norton reintroduces bill to ban discrimination against LGBTQ jurors in D.C. Superior Court
Congresswoman notes Congress controls local court system

D.C. Congressional Delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton (D-D.C.) on Friday, June 20, reintroduced her bill to ban discrimination against LGBTQ D.C. residents in the process for selecting people to serve as jurors in D.C. Superior Court.
“The bill would clarify that D.C. residents may not be excluded or disqualified from jury service in the local D.C. trial court, the D.C. Superior Court, based on sexual orientation or gender identity,” Norton said in a statement.
“Specifically, this bill would clarify that the term ‘sex,’ which is a protected class under the nondiscrimination law that applies to jurors in the D.C. Superior Court includes sexual orientation and gender identity,” Norton said.
She points out in her statement that under the D.C. Home Rule Act approved by Congress that created D.C.’s local government, including an elected mayor and City Council, the federal government retained control over the local court system.
“Therefore, until D.C. is given authority to amend Title 11 of the D.C. Code, which one of my bills would do, an act of Congress is required to clarify that LGBTQ+ jurors in the D.C. Superior Court are protected from discrimination,” according to her statement.
A spokesperson for Norton couldn’t immediately be reached to determine whether Norton is aware of specific instances where residents were denied jury service because of their sexual orientation or gender identity.
Online records of congressional action on Norton’s juror nondiscrimination bill show she had introduced it in 2019, 2021, and 2023, when it died in committee each year, except for the 117th Congress in 2022, when it was approved by a committee but died in the full House.
“During Pride month we are reminded of the many contributions of the LGBTQ+ community,” Norton said in her June 20 statement. “Nobody, including D.C. jurors, should be discriminated against based on their sexual orientation or gender identity, and D.C. juries should not be deprived of the service of LGBTQ residents,” she added.
South Sudan
The forgotten struggle: LGBTQ refugees and asylum seekers in South Sudan
June 20 is World Refugee Day

As the world prepares to mark World Refugee Day on June 20, discussions will echo across continents about war, displacement, and humanitarian assistance. But there is one story that is often left out — a story of a people who are doubly displaced, constantly under threat, and too often excluded from protection programs. We are the LGBTQ+ refugees and asylum seekers living in South Sudan, particularly in Gorom Refugee Settlement, and our daily struggle for survival continues in silence, far from global headlines and political promises.
We are refugees who fled our homes in Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Ethiopia, and Sudan — countries where being lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer means being hunted by the state, persecuted by society, and disowned by our own families. Many of us first found temporary safety in Kenya, only to be forced to flee once more as hostility and violence found us even there. We ended up in South Sudan, believing it might be safer. But we were wrong.
What we have experienced is a relentless cycle of flight and fear. We are tired of running, tired of hiding, and tired of being treated like we do not exist.
Fleeing persecution, only to face more
The reasons we fled our home countries are all rooted in systemic hate: we were accused of witchcraft, imprisoned for who we love, subjected to forced “conversions” or exorcisms, and physically assaulted by family members and neighbors alike.
Lesbian women in Uganda and Rwanda were forced into marriages with men, some even raped by their own relatives to “cure” them. Gay men in Burundi and Congo were arrested, tortured, and publicly humiliated. Transgender individuals in Ethiopia were stripped of all dignity, mocked in the streets, denied medical treatment, and in some cases beaten to the point of unconsciousness. Bisexual youth were disowned and kicked out of their homes. And queer children — or children simply perceived as different — were molested, assaulted, or abandoned.
We thought Kenya might provide refuge. For a while, it did. But soon, even the refugee camps in Kenya became unsafe. Attacks on LGBTQ+ individuals increased. Some of us were sexually assaulted inside UNHCR facilities. Local authorities turned a blind eye. The Kenyan government ultimately declared it would no longer support resettlement for LGBTQ+ asylum seekers. And so, once again, we fled.
This time, we crossed into South Sudan. And again, we hoped for safety. But at Gorom Refugee Settlement, we found yet another kind of danger — one that is quieter, colder, and just as cruel.
What life looks like in Gorom: constant threat and no protection
At Gorom, we face daily verbal abuse, physical violence, economic isolation, and state indifference. LGBTQ+ refugees are attacked by fellow refugees and members of the local host community. In some cases, we are targeted by our own block leaders, who refuse to distribute food or health services if they suspect we are queer. In clinics, trans women are mocked, told they are “possessed,” and denied even basic medical care. Those of us living with HIV face layers of stigma — our sexual orientation is blamed for our condition, and we are often left without access to lifesaving medication.
Safe housing for LGBTQ+ refugees does not exist in Gorom. Couples are forced to pretend to be siblings or risk being separated — or worse. One gay couple was recently threatened by men in their block who accused them of “bringing demons.” They have not slept in the same shelter since.
Lesbian sisters, sharing a small shelter to survive, told us:
“We sleep in turns at night — one keeps watch while the other rests. We’ve been threatened with rape three times. Our block leader told us to leave or act straight.”
Children of LGBTQ+ parents, or those who are gender non-conforming, are bullied at school or excluded entirely. Some are even denied meals at community kitchens — punished simply for who their parents are.
For many queer women, survival sex work becomes the only option. There is no employment, no support, and no safety. This leads to alarming rates of sexual assault and HIV infection. Yet when they seek help, they are either ignored or blamed.
And while mental health crises are rising, there is no trauma support designed for queer refugees. Many of us have attempted suicide. Some have succeeded.
We have evidence, but no urgency
In early 2024, a SOGIESC (sexual orientation, gender identity and expression, and sex characteristics) assessment was conducted by peer human rights monitors inside Gorom. It documented the situation clearly and thoroughly.
• Many transgender individuals had been physically assaulted in the span of just three months
• Lesbians received death threats or were targeted with “corrective rape”
• LGBTQ+ persons were denied medical services
• Attempted suicide
These are not just statistics. These are names, lives, and stories. And yet, most of the reports were never acted upon. Bureaucratic delays, unclear processes, and shifting responsibilities have turned urgent threats into forgotten files. Each time we cry out for help, we are told to wait. But in our world, waiting can be fatal.
Acknowledging those who have helped; and those who must do more
We extend sincere appreciation to the Commission for Refugee Affairs of South Sudan. Since December 2023, LGBTQ+ refugees were allowed to remain in Gorom with a degree of tolerance. In a country where same-sex relationships are widely condemned, this space mattered. But the relief was short-lived.
We now face an eviction order, issued for June 20, ironically, on World Refugee Day. The government has declared that all LGBTQ+ individuals must leave the settlement. No safe relocation site has been offered. No plan for protection has been shared. Once again, we are being pushed out — not for something we did, but for who we are.
We also recognize the continued engagement of UNHCR South Sudan and some officials working on the ground. Their intent is clear. They listen to our voices, acknowledge our pain, and try to act within their mandates. But the pace of intervention is too slow. In many cases, the process of documentation, assessment, and relocation takes months. By the time help arrives, it is too late.
We also commend the advocacy of Rainbow Railroad, which has raised awareness globally about the plight of LGBTQ+ refugees. Their work has saved lives. But we need them to be faster, more connected to those of us already in danger, and more responsive to grassroots alerts from inside the camps.
If coordination, funding, and trust between grassroots advocates and major institutions could improve, we would not be burying so many of our community members. We would not have to keep writing these cries for help.
Real voices, real pain
“I was beaten because my jeans were ‘too tight.’ They said I looked like a woman. I am a woman — trans — but they made me feel like an animal,” says Daniella, 24.
“We put our names on the protection list. My partner was attacked at the water point the next day. Nobody came to help us,” says Joseph, 31.
“I am HIV-positive. The clinic nurse laughed and said I got it through sin. I haven’t gone back since. I just stay in bed now,” says Amina, 28, a lesbian mother of two.
These are not rare stories. These are everyday truths for queer refugees in South Sudan. And still, we are expected to stay silent and grateful.
Our call to the world
We are not asking for special treatment. We are demanding equal protection under the same humanitarian principles that others receive. We ask that:
• UNHCR and all partner organizations prioritize LGBTQIA+ safety in refugee camps, not as an afterthought but as a core responsibility
• Safe shelters and protection units be created for queer refugees facing internal violence
• LGBTQ+ refugees be consulted in decisions about policies, services, and resettlement programs that affect us directly
• Emergency medical and mental health services be inclusive of queer identities and trauma
• Pathways to resettlement for LGBTQ+ individuals be accelerated, especially for those in crisis.
Let this World Refugee Day mean something
To be queer in a refugee camp is to constantly fight for your life. It means being forgotten by both your country of origin and your supposed place of refuge. It means sleeping in fear, eating in shame, and living without dignity. It means being told that safety exists, but not for you.
We are tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of begging for our humanity to be acknowledged. But we are still here. We still believe that the world can listen. And we still believe that justice is possible — if only someone chooses to act.
This World Refugee Day, remember that we are not just refugees. We are LGBTQ+. We are survivors. And we deserve to live.
Abraham Junior lives in the Gorom Refugee Settlement in South Sudan.
Israel
Iranian missile destroys Tel Aviv’s last gay bar
Mash Central is a few blocks from US Embassy

An Iranian missile on June 16 destroyed a gay bar in Tel Aviv, Israel.
The missile struck Mash Central, which is a few blocks from the U.S. Embassy on Allenby Street, and surrounding buildings. Israeli sources confirmed to the Washington Blade that Mash Central was the only gay-specific bar in Tel Aviv.
“Iran’s missile strike yesterday destroyed Tel Aviv’s only dedicated gay bar,” reads one Instagram post with pictures from inside the bar. “This place provided a safe space for minorities to express themselves — now it’s trashed.”
Mash Central describes itself as Tel Aviv’s “last gay bar standing,” even though the city promotes itself as one of the world’s most LGBTQ-friendly cities.
Israel on June 13 launched airstrikes against Iran that targeted the country’s nuclear and military facilities. Iran since the war began has launched hundreds of missiles towards Israel.
Tel Aviv’s Pride parade was scheduled to take place on June 13, but authorities cancelled it. Caitlyn Jenner, who was to have been the event’s guest of honor, is among those who were stranded in Israel after the war began.
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