Opinions
I escaped a society that persecutes the LGBTQ community
But many others are not so lucky


I grew up in Amman, the capital of Jordan; I was the youngest child on the family compound. I had a fabulously stylish mother who treated me as if I were the center of her world, and a largely distant father. I remember when our new physics teacher walked into the classroom on the first day of seventh grade; he had deep-set eyes, and an athletic, slender build that filled out his checked, short-sleeved button-down shirt. These details still stand out in my memory because I had a crush on him, and that realization back in 7th grade changed everything.
Jordan is a predominantly Muslim country, and homosexuality is strictly forbidden, at least culturally. Itās not illegal in the Kingdom anymore, but itās still shunned and disgraced by the society as a whole, and even as a middle schooler I understood that. It was strange to couple with these conflicting feelings ā there were these awakening sensations in my body that were saying āThis is awesome!ā and then there was the practical voice saying, āOh no, this is going to cause a lot of trouble.ā
I learned something fierce and undeniable that day: I was gay. I felt like a country with undiscovered borders – how could I have kept such a big thing from myself? Had I always known? Was I really surprised?
While I relished in my revelation, I also knew the danger, and internalized the secret. That was par for the course in Jordan. Coming out as gay was completely out of the question; it was a death sentence. The Kingdom is full of closeted people, living in fear of persecution, and I struggled in that secret community for a long time.
I could tell my mom knew. We had never talked about it, but she was accepting and supportive, and would give me secret presents that my dad didnāt know about, like Barbies. One time she even dressed me up in drag because she found me trying on her clothes. Were she still alive today, Iām sure we would still have a great relationship. I eventually came out to my best friend who himself was bisexual, but outside of that little secret bubble nobody knew who I really was. I show this in detail in my novel The Kingdom’s Sandcastle,ā which is based on the true events of my life.
There are a few scattered gay cafes and bars around the capital where we eventually found a small community, where gay people can hold hands or even kiss when there arenāt any tourists stopping by, but we still had to be terribly careful. The police canāt arrest you for just being gay, but they can lock you up for ādisrupting public moralityā if you kiss your partner in public.
One of the problems a condensed, closeted community like Jordan has is the lack of support outside of that community. When I became the regular victim of a sexual predator and endured years of abuse from him, I had no recourse, nowhere to turn and no one to tell. This forced me into a savage, downward spiral of being trapped in both physical and emotional abuse along with crippling depression, and drug addiction. My abuser doesnāt represent the community, but the secret nature of our lives gave him all the power.
I was lucky to get out. Many donāt. Some are trying to change the system and laws from within, and while their fight is a valiant one, they face steep opposition from both the government and the populous. Threats and harassment are rampant. Hate crimes often go unreported. In this oppressive environment, how can we expect people to live healthy lives, or build healthy families?
I donāt have all the answers, but I do know that the culture I grew up in destroyed me. I still suffer PTSD, struggle with mental health, and am cut off from my family. To all my brothers and sisters who live in places like Jordan, you are seen. Your struggle matters to me, and I hope that by telling my story, it might matter more to the world.
Luai Qubain, author of āThe Kingdomās Sandcastle,ā was born and raised in Jordan, where he was forced to lead a double life as a young gay man in a Middle Eastern society that views homosexuality as a sin. He moved to the U.S. where he writes about his experiences. He lives in Denver with his husband.
Commentary
Survivors of sex crimes are unsung heroes
Taking trauma and turning it to their advantage

(Editorās note: This is the second of a two-part story. Click here to read the first installment.)
Last month, I started watching āThe X-files.ā
For the most part I loved the show, with Agents Scully and Mulder as the primary reasons why. Yet what I found most frustrating was watching their investigations. As early as episode one, set in a small town of scared people guarded by scary men, Agent Scully proposed coincidences while Agent Mulder proposed aliens. Despite the episode having ācultā written all over it, both agents seemed none the wiser.
Recently, I learned the FBI has an open process for writers and other creatives to learn how the agency works. I also discovered the FBI has a history of monitoring writers. In fact, the FBI is about as image-conscious as your typical D.C. gay, making me wonder how the āX-Filesā moved forward with little pushback. Thatās about as interesting as UFOs being discovered in New Mexico as we tested the atomic bomb.
But if youāre reading this, you likely want me to shut up about the āX-Filesā and get back to my story. When I left off, my friend had disappeared and my work cleared me of any wrongdoing. That said, I was mysteriously fired in September 2022ānearly a year after the initial incidentāand just six weeks after my boss learned that I wrote books.
The process of my firing was strange, to say the least. First and foremost, I was never given a reason. To this day it remains a mystery. My now-former employerāa high-profile lobbying firmāthen bullied me into signing an NDA to access my severance.
By the way, I negotiated up. While I donāt know what I did, I had a feeling I had that power. I was right.
Just prior to the firing, they asked me to bring in my laptop so they could download my files. This rang an alarm for me, primarily because they never gave me a laptop. So, they wanted me to bring in my personal laptop. As a writer with original materials, I reasonably asked what constituted a work file. I never received an answer.
Coincidentally, I met my ex-boyfriend exactly one week before I got fired. He is the same ex-boyfriend from my religion piece, in which I mentioned he fell into hard times. Specifically, I was referring to concerning signs I spotted last April, primarily on the gay apps, and with memories of the last boy still fresh on my mind, I refused to let another slip from my grasp.
So, what did I do? I dove headfirst into hell in a messy attempt to rescue him. After playing this new game of cat-and-mouse in which I was said mouse, allow me to share what I learned: Over the course of several months, I spotted sketchy characters at my exās placeācharacters I suspected dealt hard drugs, which was highly out of character for him. Moreover, I found online accounts promoting extremely suspect pornography and, yes, pimping services on X (formerly Twitter), some of which looked a lot like my ex. While I didnāt know what exactly was happening, I knew something was off, but when I confronted my ex, he denied it.
Being the stubborn asshole that I am, I decided to check these sketchy characters out for myself. It turns out I was spot on about their sketchiness. I learned they not only drug unsuspecting young men in a coordinated manner, but once drugged they sexually violate them andāif drugged enoughābegin recording videos. Itās all made to look random yet safe; for example, there always seems to be a nurse in the group who is āexperiencedā in administering needles.
Once I had proof these people were unsafe, I took further action for my ex. In mid-November, I reached out to someone in his personal life, which was a tough decision since he was closeted. I was strategic and chose someone who knew he was bisexual, and after connecting with her on Instagram, spoke on the phone with her the next morning. Upon hearing my concerns, she agreed based on her own observations.
Apparently, she spotted signs of him being physically harmed over the summer. She and I spoke for hours on end about the situation and how we could help him. Then, just a week later, I lost contact with her and my ex. I havenāt heard from either since.
I eventually grew concerned enough to contact the police and the FBI. In the meantime, particularly following my trauma article, sex workers approached me to share their storiesāprimarily stories of rape and abuse alongside a power structure rooted in it. As for those who try to oppose this system? Theyāre often written off as mentally ill.
I donāt know about you, but I refuse to live in a world where young queers are shepherded into this system. Thatās the opposite of what I envision for the queer community.
Mid-Atlantic Leather weekend arrived in January, along with more sex workers. Once again, some approached me to share their storiesāabout their aspirations, about their art, about their perspectives on the world. And once again, about the system of abuse designed against them from the start. I heard stories of young boys raped by their fathers, or friends of their fathers, or about the drugs used to coerce them into sexual activity. Sadly, just like a UFO witness, they are usually written off and never taken seriously, especially if they have a record of drug abuse or mental illness. Seems to be a pattern, doesnāt it?
That said, these men are not solely victims. If anything, they took their trauma and turned it to their advantage. Iād like to take this moment to thank them. Theyāre unsung heroesāeach and every oneāin a nation that often shames them.
Yet as proud as I am of these sex workers, my heart was equally broken. These stories were painful to hear, to say the least. I quickly grew paranoid of people around me, even friends at times. There were other times I sat alone in my apartment, bawling over the men I had lost, along with the pain others had experienced. This only strengthened my resolve to end it.Ā
To top this all off, my final discovery came just two months ago. Turns out thereās an X account publicly teasing me about this entire affair. The account even references this column and, according to the receipts, started well before I noticed concerning signs about my ex in the first place.
Hello there, dear X account. It appears youāve been observing me. Consider this my proverbial tapping back on the glass.
Wowāthere seems to be a lot of time, energy, and effort spent on little ole me. Why is that, I wonder? Iāve mentioned before Iām just a measly little barback who has been fired twice. Although looking back, those firings were strange too, werenāt they?
Is it the abuse I uncovered? Is it the details of my loverās past? Is it something I wrote? Is it a combination of the three? And is it possible that the little dark cloud thatās been following me in D.C. is more intentional than I once thought?
I may never learn the truth on my own, but I can pose another question: whatās the only thing scarier than UFOs? To me thereās just one answer: that UFOs were never real in the first place. Occasionally, answers to unsettling mysteries simply unearth more unsettling mysteries.
I mentioned before in this column that I arrived to D.C. naĆÆve about the world, perhaps just as naĆÆve as Agents Scully and Mulder. Yet in my naivetĆ© I tripped on something: the rot hiding beneath the surface of our nationās capital. No, it isnāt coincidence. It isnāt aliens, either. But whatever it is, I alone cannot identify it.
Throughout my time uncovering this story, Iāve come across friends, acquaintances, and even relatives who suffered abuse, along with threats or shaming to keep them quiet. They come from all races, creeds, backgrounds, and orientations, and as it turns out, some of the infrastructure of power in D.C. and in towns across this nation are built around it. While Iām ready to tear it down, this isnāt just my story. I might be the one starting it, but itās not on me to finish.
The most I can do is hand the pen over to the victims. Iāve shared my part. Now itās their turn. As for the audience: I hope youāre now ready to start believing.
Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer and barback.

In two previous articles for the Blade, I enumerated how Elon Musk is a rampant transphobe and a danger to society. My position on Musk, since then, is nuanced. In one of these articles, I mildly applauded his brilliance, as I will enumerate now that he was able to create a payment company (PayPal), a car company (Tesla), and a rocket company (SpaceX), all with extreme success. Musk, in this regard, is a Renaissance man of sorts, able to use his Wharton accolades and other courses in physics, math, and coding to his will, and revamping companies to earn billions of dollars in profits. Nowadays, itās a common brag among best friends to own a āTessieā – slang for a Tesla – and to ride around for fun. āTessiesā have seeped into popular culture. And on the streets of LA, from the suburbs of D.C., to the outskirts and roads of Manhattan, Teslas are a common phenomenon, and are skyrocketing in sales. And PayPal, to Muskās credit, is also still a platform that millions use regularly to send money to friends or other businesses. Meanwhile, SpaceX is preparing for the future, creating an infrastructure for space exploration.
Musk is undeniably successful. Yet two things should counter his fame and cause serious alarm. As I have spoken about in the past, Muskās relationship with his transgender daughter is nonexistent, as Vivian Wilson, the daughter, states that he was an absent parent who harassed her as a child. Muskās transphobia has been on full display: he banned the word ācisgenderā from X.com, which led many LGBTQ rights groups away from the platform. I was no stranger to this word ban: a conservative journalist covering my stories had to use c*isgender in asterisks to avoid having her post deleted. Word bans were and are common symptoms of fascist regimes. Hitler and the Nazis infamously banned words and books from the public realm, and Musk is doing the same thing.
The second cause for alarm in Muskās rise to power is his heading of DOGE, the Department of Government Efficiency. At first, hiring Musk as the leader of DOGE seemed like a good idea, even with someone who harbors transphobic complaints about him. As the richest man in the world, and as a man who has led multiple companies with billions of dollars in revenue, it would seem that a private sector tycoon like Musk would have the merits to lead DOGE.
Yet almost immediately, such merits came into question. In early February of 2025, Musk essentially axed USAID, the State Departmentās aid wing, an organization tasked with giving funds to needy countries and doing other life-saving work like vaccine promotion. The axing of USAID spoke right away to Muskās sheer ignorance of USAID and the good it has done for decades across the world. In effect, he created, almost overnight, a dystopia in American international aid development. Without USAID, the United States canāt fund foreign countries to engage in beneficial mutual partnerships with us.
The axing of USAID from U.S. foreign policy will surely not be the only toxic decision that Musk makes. Down the line, and even already, we can expect a significant reduction, or just outright banning, of DEI initiatives. DEI initiatives are important for marginalized communities to have a voice and funding through government. For instance, studies that analyze the wellbeing of LGBTQ youth would presumably be axed. More studies analyzing racial discrimination in the workplace could be axed as well.
Overall, Musk shows a demonstrated brilliance in almost every endeavor he touches, with the exception of DOGE and Trump-related decisions. And the rampant transphobia that he has shown toward his child has painted his character in murky colors.
Isaac AmendĀ is a writer based in the D.C. area. He is a transgender man and was featured in National Geographicās āGender Revolutionā documentary. He serves on the board of the LGBT Democrats of Virginia. Contact him atĀ [email protected]Ā or on Instagram atĀ @literatipapi.Ā
Opinions
Trump is a carnival barker masquerading as president
Throwing the world into chaos by cozying up to Putin

Trump is a carnival barker, who masquerades as a president. He is a racist, felon, found liable for sexual assault, and in many ways a danger to the LGBTQ community. What he is not, is a credible president. He is a grifter and a liar. He sees himself as an entertainer, which accounts for his speech to Congress. He thinks nothing of lying and using props, even a brave young cancer survivor, to get applause, and feed his ego.
The real danger of his second term in office is he is surrounded with some people worse than himself, but with more brains. The first is hard to be, the second is easy. His best friend and co-president, is a Nazi sympathizer, the richest man in the world. Contrary to Trump, who has declared bankruptcy multiple times in his businesses, Musk has made a real fortune. There are those who claim he has paid to be Trumpās co-president. First helping fund the campaign, others even suggesting he has promised Trump billions after he is out of office. I donāt know that to be true, but clearly not beyond belief. While Trump sees himself as a king, Musk sees himself as an emperor, controlling the world. Trump has allowed him unlimited access to the Oval Office, from which to carry out his goals. Trumpās attitude to people here, and around the world, suffering because of him, is that they be damned.
Now we know Trump and Musk, have bought off, or scared off, any opposition from Republican senators and congresspersons. They have gotten them all on their knees. The only hope for our democracy is the courts. We will see if they hold, and actually perform their constitutional role, as the third arm of our government. Will they stand up to the two despots in the White House? Will they be willing to take the glare, and threats to their lives, from MAGA supporters, and do the right thing? The right thing is not what I want, but what the constitution of our country calls for.
People are being fired willy-nilly, without any thought to the repercussions. We know this as they have fired people, and been forced to rehire them when they realized what they did. From the NationalĀ NuclearĀ Security Administration, which oversees the nation’s arsenal ofĀ nuclearĀ weapons, to those trying to deal with bird flu at the CDC. They have in a short time thrown the world into chaos, by moving away from all our allies and cozying up to Putin, a dictator, who seems to be holding something over Trumpās head. Musk is posting on X and whispering in Trumpās ear to leave NATO, and populate Mars. A megalomaniac with thoughts of being the next Hitler, and taking over the world using Donald Trump as his stooge.Ā
Musk has eclipsed the vice president, who then tried to reclaim his role by embarrassing the United States at the meeting with Ukraineās President Zelenskyy. Vance made the president look weak. Then when Trump spoke to Congress, thanking Musk, all Vance could do was sit behind the president with a stupid grin on his face, jump up to applaud every few minutes, at the spectacle taking place in front of him. If he wasnāt so venal I would have actually felt sorry for him.
Last week was the ninth anniversary of Nancy Reaganās death. It reminded me she was the one who ran the country, while hiding her husbandās dementia from the people. Even with all that, in some ways I longed for those days. A time I could disagree with just about every Republican policy, but could sit and talk to Republicans and have a rational conversation. In those days I could, and did, actually meet the leadership of the Log Cabin Republicans for lunch, and not end up feeling dirty like I would with some of those leading them today.
It may sound funny to say, but I yearn for a two-party system where we can debate issues with intelligent people. I know how bad Reagan was, and that he caused the death of thousands by not being willing to deal with HIV/AIDS. But then there were Democrats like Ed Koch, mayor of New York City, who did the same. I hope we can get back to a day when we can really debate policy, everyone telling the truth to voters, and not have a Republican Party that believes lying, and fighting culture wars, is the way to go.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
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