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LGBTQIA disparities amid COVID-19

Pandemic has disproportionately impacted vulnerable groups

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COVID-19 vaccine, gay news, Washington Blade

The COVID-19 pandemic has highlighted the importance of meeting the needs of diverse communities and minorities when facing emergencies such as COVID-19. But more importantly, it highlighted their vulnerability, since they are considered much more prone populations. COVID-19 has made it even more evident the disproportionate burden vulnerable populations bear and the weakness of our health system.

Minorities who are members of racial/ethnic groups are disproportionately affected and often exposed to higher illness rates and have substantially higher mortality and morbidity rates than the general population. For example, people vulnerable to HIV infection usually belong to socially, economically disadvantaged and discriminated groups. The Human Rights Campaign presented an investigative report on how the community faces unique challenges due to their economic situations and access to healthcare. According to HRC, LGBTQIA Americans are more likely than the general population to live in poverty and lack access to adequate health care, paid sick leave and basic needs during the pandemic. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention states in one of its reports that the LGBTQIA community experiences stigma and discrimination in their lives that “… can increase vulnerabilities to illness and limit the means to achieving optimal health and well-being…” For example, discrimination and violence against LGBTQIA persons have been associated with high rates of psychiatric disorders, substance abuse, suicide and have long-lasting effects on the individuals. Furthermore, LGBTQIA mental health and personal safety are also affected when they go through the process of personal, family and social acceptance of their sexual orientation, gender identity and gender expression.

According to the Williams Institute, the leading research center on rights based on sexual orientation and gender identity, one in 10 LGBTQIA people is unemployed and more likely to live in poverty than heterosexual people, so they cannot always pay for proper medical care or preventive health measures. Also, approximately one in five LGBTQ + adults in the United States (22 percent) lives below the poverty line, compared to an estimated 16 percent poverty rate among heterosexuals. This data is much worse when we look closely at the trans population with 29 percent and LGBTQIA Latinos with 45 percent. These disparities are even more evident when we see that 17 percent of LGBTQIA adults do not have any medical health coverage compared to the 12 percent of the heterosexual population. That 17 percent increases with the LGBTQIA Black adults with 23 percent, trans adults with 22 percent, and trans Black adults with 32 percent who do not have any health coverage, compared to 12 percent of the heterosexual population that does not possess health coverage. The Office of Disease Prevention and Health Promotion statistics reflect that the LGBTQIA community is more likely to attempt suicide, be overweight or obese, have mental health problems, and less likely to receive cancer treatment.

According to several health organizations led by the National LGBT Cancer Network, the LGBTQIA population still faces great social and economic disparities compared to the heterosexual community, so they are more likely to get infected by COVID-19. The report summarizes how COVID-19 negatively affects the lives and livelihoods of the LGBTQIA community at disproportionate levels. The older generations of LGBTQIA encounter additional health barriers in the face of COVID-19 due to isolation, discrimination in the provision of services, and the lack of competent social services. The LGBTQIA community uses tobacco at rates that are 50 percent higher than the general population, and COVID-19 is a respiratory illness that has proven particularly harmful to smokers. In addition, the LGBTQIA population has higher rates of HIV and cancer, which means a more significant number may have compromised immune systems, leaving us more vulnerable to COVID-19 infections. LGBTQIA communities also face additional risks related to conditions that are often associated with complications from COVID-19. One in five LGBTQIA adults aged 50 and above has diabetes, a factor that raises the risk of complications for individuals diagnosed with COVID-19.

A Kaiser Family Foundation research finds that a larger share of LGBTQIA adults has experienced COVID-19 era job loss than heterosexuals adults (56 percent vs. 44 percent). Furthermore, the limited anti-discrimination protections from the LGBTQIA community also make them more vulnerable to joblessness due to an economic downturn resulting from COVID-19’s spread. Since February 2020, 56 percent of LGBTQIA people report that they or another adult in their household have lost a job, been placed on furloughs, or had their income or hours reduced because of the coronavirus outbreak, compared to 44 percent of non-LGBTQIA people.

In addition, recent data show that LGBTQIA respondents were more likely than non-LGBTQIA respondents to be laid off (12.4 percent vs. 7.8 percent) or furloughed from their jobs (14.1 percent vs. 9.7 percent), report problems affording essential household goods (23.5 percent vs. 16.8 percent), and report having problems paying their rent or mortgage (19.9 percent v. 11.7 percent). The research also shows that three-fourths of LGBTQIA people (74 percent) say worry and stress from the pandemic have had a negative impact on their mental health, compared to 49 percent of those, not LGBTQIA. A recent study from the William Institute also found that LGBTQIA people of color were twice as likely as white non-LGBTQIA people to test positive for COVID-19. According to the Williams Institute, the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security Act (CARES Act) represented a direct benefit for the LGBTQIA community amid the pandemic. However, LGBT people have still experienced the COVID-19 pandemic differently than heterosexuals, including being harder hit in some areas. The challenges presented by COVID-19 have exacerbated the stigma and discrimination to access to healthcare, social services, and basic legal protections for the LGBTQIA community. It is not the first time the LGBTQIA confronts the stigma and discrimination amid a pandemic. Since the HIV/AIDS pandemic from the 80s until now, the LGBTQIA community has developed an extraordinary resilience over decades, and pushing back against stigma and making claims for basic human dignity and equality

The World Health Organization recognizes that “vulnerable and marginalized groups in societies often have to bear an excessive share of health problems and are less likely to enjoy the right to health…” For this reason, the WHO recognizes the need for more aggressive regulations and laws that promote equality in services for these vulnerable groups to eliminate those current statutes that aggravate marginalization and hinder gradually, and even more so, access to health services, prevention, and care. National policies and state regulations must address the needs of LGBTQIA populations, with particular attention to black LGBTQIA and the absence of standardized protections against discrimination by healthcare providers. Although there have been substantial advances for the LGBTQIA population over the last decade, legal protections remain uneven, including those jurisdictions that do not expressly prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, or/and gender expression. Eliminating LGBTQIA health disparities and enhancing efforts to improve their health are necessary to reduce disparities and increase longevity. Furthermore, under the context of COVID-19, researchers have found that the intersection of race with sexual orientation and gender identity is essential to understand pandemic’s impact. For example, data collection efforts related to COVID-19 must immediately add sexual orientation and gender identity questions. Collecting sexual orientation and gender identity data will improve knowledge about disparities from sexual minorities, enhance cultural competence among health providers, help implement anti-bullying policies, and reduce suicide and homelessness among youth, among others.

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Commentary

Sexting with younger guy has me asking: How queer am I?

Reflections on LGBTQ life in 2024

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Jake Stewart is a recovering Hill staffer based in D.C. In addition to writing, he barbacks at the Little Gay Pub."

Once upon a time, not all that long ago, a man sexted another man. 

There were words. There were pictures. There were filthy questions and even filthier responses. You know, the way a good sexting convo ought to be, for those who dabble. 

One man was 33. The other, 24. And while it comes as no shock that I was the 33-year-old, it may be more surprising to learn it was the 24-year-old who grabbed the reins. 

What kinks you into? he asked. 

Shit – I didn’t know. I barely even bottomed before the pandemic, and now I had to know my kinks? 

I’m open, I replied, evasively. You? 

His response left me coughing: “Love musk sweat ws public group rough bb verbal bate edge roleplay and very open-minded.” 

Now I’m no prude (in fact, many would call me a downright whore) but this young man articulating his kinks and fetishes in such detail blew my mind. When did he learn what he liked? At 24, all I wanted was to top a guy and leave with as little communication or attachment as possible. At 33, I wasn’t sure what a few of the items he listed even meant.  

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised when young men — and the younger generation across the LGBTQ spectrum in general — have already figured out their sexual interests. I arrived in D.C. from Idaho in 2008 as a fresh-faced 18-year-old; I came out three years later in 2011. Attitudes toward queerness have shifted substantially since then, and these days it is undeniably easier for younger people to explore their sexual and gender identities (which, by the way, is fantastic). 

But this conversation left me wondering: What do I like? I haven’t sought out that many new sexual experiences, and while fetishes, kinks, and sexual desires can seem trivial, they’re inextricably intertwined with gender and relationships. If I can’t articulate what I like in the sack (or in public, if I dare), then how do I know what I’m seeking from a long-term partner, or if that’s even what I want? 

As soon as I came out, I thought my job was done. All I needed after that was to snatch up a cutie and settle down. Instead, my identity centered on building my career in politics, where sexual openness isn’t as appreciated. I, like many D.C. queers around me, moved here bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to change the world for good. 

Then came a tough lesson: Just because I wanted to improve the world didn’t mean people wanted me to. I was inexplicably fired from not one job but two, and suddenly the do-gooder in me grew jaded. The career I dedicated years to was suddenly ripped from my hands, and I became so disillusioned I didn’t even want it back. Oh, and the cherry on top: My boyfriend dumped me two days later. 

Once everything unraveled, I wondered: Was the me of the past the me I truly wanted? Or was I reflecting back what I thought everyone wanted me to be? 

Well, a few major meltdowns and an extended slut phase later, my life couldn’t be more different. I now work at a new gay bar in town to support myself, and I’ve given myself space to pursue the arts. This former straight-laced, type-A, tightly wound gay abandoned the safe track and he couldn’t be more terrified. He also couldn’t be more excited. 

But losing my old career also left an existential-sized hole in my identity. So, as I sexted this 24-year-old with newfound awareness of my limitations, I decided this must change. 

How? As I said, I work at a gay bar in one of the queerest cities in America. Now more than ever I’m surrounded by those who are LGBTQ and every shade in between. Why not learn from those around me, whether younger, older, or around the same age, but whose experiences are no less queer? Why not carve out time to have in-depth discussions and discover what the possibilities are? 

If being queer means to go against the established norms of gender and sexuality, then there’s still plenty of territory for me to explore. No longer can ‘bottom’ or ‘top’ be my only options. 

So, the purpose of this column – aptly titled Queer Quest – is to capture my exploration of queer identity. It’s not to teach you as much as it is to teach myself, and you can either learn alongside me or simply be entertained. At the very least, I’ll have a series of portraits on what it’s like to be queer in the mid 2020s. At most, I’ll have a better understanding of who I am as a queer person. 

Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll become a better sexter. 

Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer.

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Commentary

What will you do to make Pride safe this year?

Anxiety reigns among American Jews after Oct. 7

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(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

Each year, hundreds of thousands of Jews and supporters of Israel attend Pride marches. With a few exceptions, these spaces have always been safe and welcoming for the broader Pride community. 

But this year is different. 

For American Jews, anxiety reigns as we head into this Pride season. The appalling rise of antisemitism since Oct. 7 forces us to ask difficult questions. As many Jews increasingly feel alienated and excluded from progressive spaces, we’re left to wonder: If I wear a Jewish symbol, march with a Jewish group, or wave a rainbow flag adorned with the Star of David, will I be safe at Pride?

Even before Oct. 7, LGBTQ Jews had plenty of reason to feel trepidation about their safety at Pride. From blanket bans on Stars of David at past Pride gatherings to antisemitism on display at the recent Sydney Pride, too often Jews feel forced to choose between their LGBTQ and Jewish identities and hide their connection to Israel.

Since Oct. 7, terms like “apartheid,” “genocide” and “Zionism equals racism” are increasingly thrown around casually, often without a nuanced understanding of their impact or the realities they oversimplify. This rhetoric not only alienates but also endangers Jewish queer people. It makes us feel emotionally unsafe. It increases the chances that we will be physically unsafe as well. 

We must not allow the Israel-Palestine conflict to be imported into Pride.

I will always remember the euphoria of the first Pride rally I attended. I was barely 18 years old, in a crowd of people of all ages, races, genders and gender orientations — and they were like me. Queer. It felt safe. It was the first time I experienced that feeling of safety, and it will always stay with me. 

Like Pride events everywhere, it was a vibrant, colorful space for LGBTQ people to celebrate our true authentic selves, without fear or reservation.

But that feeling of safety wasn’t shared by everyone in my small New England town. I soon noticed a few people scattered throughout the crowd wearing paper bags over their heads, with eye holes so they could see but not be seen. I later learned that those faceless people were teachers who, in those days before civil rights protections, needed to protect their identities and their careers. 

They did not feel safe. Will Jews and those who are connected to Israel feel safe this year?

The history of Pride is a testament to courage in the face of adversity. It wasn’t long ago when attending Pride events was a defiant act against societal norms, where participants like those teachers faced tangible threats of discrimination, ridicule and even violence. Even today in some places, our queer community still navigates a gauntlet of hatred as we try to celebrate who we are.

It’s crucial to recognize that within the Jewish community, there is a wide spectrum of views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, including many who are deeply committed to advocating for Palestinian rights. In fact, many of the 1,200 innocent Israelis murdered on Oct. 7 were Zionists who devoted their lives to reconciliation and peace with their Arab neighbors.

We are at a pivotal moment, one that demands action: What can we do to ensure Pride remains a safe space for everyone, including Jewish participants?

It’s imperative that Pride committees around the country proactively address these concerns. They must implement training programs focused on de-escalation and fostering an environment of understanding and respect.

As individuals who stand in solidarity with the values of Pride, each of us must consider our role in this effort. Will you march alongside those of us who feel vulnerable, offering your presence as a shield against intolerance? Will you engage in dialogues that challenge the importation of external conflicts into Pride, advocating instead for a celebration that unites rather than divides?

The true test of inclusivity at Pride lies not merely in welcoming a diverse crowd, but in ensuring that every participant feels safe and valued. If we remain indifferent to the vulnerabilities faced by Jewish queer people this Pride season, we will fall short of the very ideals of inclusivity and solidarity that Pride stands for.

Just as we expect schools to protect trans and nonbinary students like Nex Benedict, we have a responsibility in the LGBTQ community to ensure that people can carry an Israeli flag or a Palestinian flag, wear a yarmulke or a hijab and be safe.

As we look forward to this year’s Pride, let us commit to making it a space where safety is not a privilege afforded to some but a right enjoyed by all. Let’s engage with our local Pride committees, advocate for comprehensive safety measures and stand in solidarity with those who feel at risk. 

Only then can we celebrate the true spirit of Pride, rooted in love, acceptance and the unwavering belief in equality for all.

Ethan Felson is the executive director of A Wider Bridge.

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Opinions

How to protect your sobriety on St. Patrick’s Day

Celebrate with a supportive friend and carry a mocktail

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Sobriety can be challenging, whether you overcame alcohol or drug addiction or chose to abstain from alcohol for a healthier life. Holidays like St. Patrick’s Day can serve as a reminder of the past or could be looked at as another day. 

Many celebrate St. Patrick’s Day sober, as there are generally family-friendly gatherings, community events, or even sober celebrations. If you have concerns about your sobriety, there are practical tips you can use to protect it on St. Patrick’s Day. 

For instance, remind yourself why you are sober, and don’t do it alone. You can still have fun and celebrate but do it with other sober people. Everyone has their reasons for stopping drinking; remind yourself of those reasons and hold yourself accountable.  

Know your triggers; it doesn’t matter if you are a recovering addict or have removed alcohol from your life. Be cautious around possible triggers that pose a challenge. Most people in this situation choose to skip the bar and find something fun to do or go to a sober St. Patrick’s Day celebration. 

Keep a non-alcoholic drink or mocktail in your hand. People will not bother you to ask if you want a drink if you already have something to sip on, like a mocktail. This also leads to planning how to say no. You will encounter social pressure if you go to a bar on St. Patrick’s Day. It’s unavoidable. It’s wise to practice ways to refuse alcohol. 

Finally, if all else fails, take a walk outside if you feel overwhelmed. The most straightforward solutions are usually the best. Remove yourself from any situation you know will lead to relapse. This is also why it’s essential to be with a sober friend or loved one; there is accountability and someone to lean on.

The benefits of being sober are plentiful, along with the numerous health perks, such as better quality sleep, more mental alertness, and lessened anxiety or depression. Yet, there is one benefit that is not necessarily always spoken about. 

Being sober on St. Patrick’s Day or any day removes all chances of impaired driving. Unfortunately, days that promote heavy alcohol use may increase the chances of drunk or drugged driving. For example, in Washington State, impaired driving has been involved in roughly half of fatal crashes for decades. In 2022, 52% of traffic fatalities involved an impaired driver, according to the Traffic Safety Commission. 

Moreover, drivers ages 21 to 30 make up one-third of impaired drivers in fatal crashes, and another 20% are ages 31 to 40. If you are celebrating St. Patrick’s Day sober, take the necessary precautions and look out for one another. If you choose to consume alcohol, drink responsibly, know your limits, and do not drink and drive.

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