By MEREDITH COHN | At least two dozen research grants at the University of Maryland, Baltimore and Johns Hopkins University have been terminated by the federal government in recent weeks amid President Donald Trump’s executive orders targeting diversity efforts.

Alex Likowski, a spokesman for the University of Maryland, Baltimore, said on Tuesday that the combined value of its 12 canceled contracts was $5.87 million this year, with an anticipated future funding loss of $11.6 million.

“In nearly every instance, the reason cited for cancellation is that the grant involves gender identity issues or promotes diversity, equity, and inclusion,” said Likowski.

The rest of this article can be found on the Baltimore Banner’s website.

The queer nightlife scene has long provided much needed spaces for connection, resistance, and activism. It’s fitting, then, that in 2025 — a time when the transgender community is bearing the brunt of discriminatory policies at national, state, and local levels — LGBTQ bars remain vital spaces of solace and celebration for a community that too often struggles to find acceptance in public life.

In honor of International Transgender Day of Visibility on Monday, March 31, the Washington Blade spoke with several prominent transgender figures in D.C.’s LGBTQ nightlife scene about their journeys into the industry, how it has shaped them, and why celebrating with other trans people in these spaces is essential to fostering support and protection for the transgender community.

Creating space for trans joy

Samson Russell, security operations manager at Crush Dance Bar on 14th Street, spends most nights scanning IDs and welcoming patrons to one of the busiest LGBTQ bars in the city. But once a month, Russell takes the stage as a DJ at T4T, a trans-centered event at Trade, another LGBTQ bar just down the street.

“I was never really into partying or nightlife,” Russell said. “I wanted to be a part of it, but it just was too intimidating. Once everything shut down [during the pandemic], I realized life is short, and there are more reasons to be involved in nightlife than just wanting to party. It’s about bringing people together.”

Russell’s entry into the nightlife scene was sparked by an Instagram message from DJ Lemz, a Washingtonian DJ known for the queer BENT celebration at the 9:30 Club. That push led Russell to embrace performing, highlighting trans identity in nightlife and using the stage as a platform for visibility.

“I started working the door at Trade maybe a year later, and then immediately wanted to be part of the drag scene,” Russell said. “Getting booked when you don’t have any drag experience is tough, even in a city as accepting as D.C. I wanted to highlight transness as an art form. My first time doing drag was producing my own show at Trade, and two years later, it’s still a monthly event called T4T. Eventually, I learned how to DJ, and three weeks later, I started DJing for T4T. Now, it’s just a mix of different art forms, all rooted in how my transness led me into nightlife.”

Onstage, Russell doesn’t just perform; they embody trans resilience. In some acts, they inject themselves with hormone replacement therapy (HRT) onstage, turning a deeply personal moment into a public declaration of identity.

“I’m not trying to act like I guided anyone into their sense of self, but it’s really cool when someone sees me and feels comfortable enough to talk about transness,” Russell said. “I’ll take off my shirt and show my scars. I’ll put lipstick and blush on them to make sure people see them. My T shot is the climax of my act. I want people just getting started in their transition to see it’s real, it’s happening, and if I can do it in this DIY blue-collar way, then surely they can too.”

Finding community and visibility

T4T isn’t just a performance space, it’s a refuge. Brooke N Hymen, a self-described “trans masc of bimbo experience” drag performer, has taken the stage multiple times at the event and finds it to be a source of validation.

“It’s proving to myself and the community that I belong here,” Hymen said. “It’s a way to showcase my transness and my trans art. Being seen and valued as a trans artist in the city — it’s an affirming feeling.”

The affirming energy of T4T extends beyond the performers. Keaton Paz, a trans employee at Trade, sees the impact firsthand at the door.

“I love getting to be at the door for those events and seeing trans people walk in,” Paz said. “You can see the relief and joy on their faces, like, ‘Oh, there are trans people here working and participating. I know this is going to be a safe space.’ That moment of recognition and safety brings me so much joy. Knowing we’re a second home for so many people, that’s what it’s about.”

For many trans people, LGBTQ bars offer more than just a place to grab a drink. They provide a sense of belonging. Whether through trans-specific events or simply recognizing a trans person behind the bar, these venues create spaces where trans people can exist without fear. The importance of visibility isn’t just about celebration, it’s a reminder that trans people deserve to live openly, loudly and without apology.

The complexity of visibility

“Trans Day of Visibility means living and showing your authentic self,” Hymen said. “It’s about knowing that your identity is valid, even if you’re not happy with your current circumstances. I’m early in my transition, but I think it’s important to be visibly loud and trans for the people who don’t have access to medical care or who are just starting their journeys.”

Paz echoed this, emphasizing that the day is meaningful even for those who are still questioning their identities.

“It’s not just for trans individuals,” Paz said. “It’s for anyone on their own gender journey. Having a day like this is powerful. It lets people see we’re here, we exist. If that visibility is taken away, it’s an attempt to erase us entirely.”

While agreeing with the sentiment, Russell expressed more complicated feelings about the day.

“I’ve got mixed feelings because why is it different from any other day?” Russell said. “While I’m grateful it exists, there are 364 other trans days of visibility in my book. It’s so dandy that cis people think of us every last day of March, but at the end of the day, this is my daily life.”

For Russell, being visible as a trans person in Washington — especially under an administration that is hostile to LGBTQ rights — adds an even deeper layer to their presence in nightlife.

“I’m in the belly of the beast — the capital of the country under this horrible administration,” Russell said. “So what else am I going to do but perform in the most sincere way I can? Specifically to my transness. It’s not just about being a hot man. It’s about knowing where I came from, where we’re at, and what my part is in this fight.”

T4T is held every second Tuesday of the month at Trade, located at 1410 14th St., N.W.

UNAIDS Executive Director Winnie Byanyima on Monday said 6.3 million more people around the world will die of AIDS-related complications over the next four years if the U.S. does not fully restore its foreign assistance.

“[If] the U.S. assistance for HIV is not restored after the pause and is not replaced by other funding, and we have not heard of other governments pledging to fill the gap, there will be an additional, in the next four years, 6.3 million more AIDS-related deaths,” said Byanyima during a press conference in Geneva.

The Trump-Vance administration in January froze nearly all U.S. foreign aid spending for at least 90 days. Secretary of State Marco Rubio later issued a waiver that allows the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS relief and other “life-saving humanitarian assistance” programs to continue to operate during the freeze.

The Washington Blade has previously reported PEPFAR-funded programs in Kenya and other African countries have been forced to suspend services and even shut down because of a lack of U.S. funding. Byanyima on Monday confirmed these closures.

“This sudden withdrawal of U.S. funding has led to the shutting down of many clinics, laying off thousands of health workers,” she said. “These are nurses, doctors, lab technicians, pharmacy workers, all kind of data entrists. It’s all a lot.”

Byanyima told reporters this loss of funding could translate into an estimated 2,000 more HIV infections a day.

She said the cuts have disproportionately impacted HIV prevention and treatment efforts in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. Byanyima further stressed LGBTQ people and other marginalized groups have been left even more vulnerable to the epidemic.

“Since there was a waiver to PEPFAR, we’ve seen some services coming back, particularly treatment services, but challenges are there, particularly for key populations,” she said. “These people who have been served by special services that help them overcome stigma, discrimination, and criminalization: I’m talking of LGBTQ people, sex workers, people who inject drugs, and as I said girls and young women.”

“Prevention services are not coming back that easily because … in addition to the cuts, there is also a push back on rights and people who have been experiencing discrimination, stigma, who are criminalized are afraid to come for services to places where they might face discrimination,” added Byanyima. “So, we’re seeing the centers that were providing them with prevention services not reopening for fear that this might not be consistent with the new guidelines.”

Then-President George W. Bush in 2003 signed legislation that created PEPFAR. Byanyima noted it has saved 26 million lives. (Congress did not reauthorize PEPFAR before Wednesday’s deadline.)

“The United States has been an incredible partner for us, UNAIDS, (and) of course (the) Global Fund, working closely with their PEPFAR program,” she said.

The State Department on Wednesday declined to comment on Byanyima’s remarks.