Commentary
Coming out is not the serve you think it is
This rite of passage does not center queerness
Coming out is undoubtedly part of the essence of contemporary queer culture. It represents a point in one’s journey to complete self-actualization where they fully accept themselves, their body, and also demand to occupy space in an insidiously cis-heternormative world.
This concept/journey has become such a treasured part of queerness, so much so that National Coming Out Day is celebrated every year on Oct. 11, not only to commemorate the 1979 National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights which demanded civil rights and legislation for LGBTQ people, but to also allow queer people to be visible, unabashedly live in their truths, and inspire others who may be fearful to do likewise.
On this day, millions of people around the world take to social media to pen heartfelt posts that usually include a picture of the individual (most probably displaying some iteration of a Pride flag) coupled with a paragraph about their journey “living in the closet” and how they’re elated to be free. By letting the world know that they aren’t afraid to fully be themselves, queer people are claiming space where their presence has intentionally been ignored.
Albeit the power of “coming out” has to accent personal self-autonomy and challenge the pervasive nature of gender and sexual conformity, it ultimately does what queer liberation exists in contrast to: Appeasing cis-heternormative culture, or quite simply, making cis-straight (to be loosely referred to as “straight” for the rest of this piece) people feel comfortable.
When LGBTQ people come out, they participate in a kind of performance that requires them to explain themselves to straight people. Queer people dig deep into their past experiences, which are often traumatic struggles, and in the process present what often translates into a chronology of why straight people should accept them, and more importantly, be “comfortable” with them. This is wrong.
Queerness should never center on straightness or straight feelings. By giving attention to straight people in queer journeys, we relegate undeserved power to straight people and allow for them to feel as if they need to be placated.
Contemporary coming out culture indirectly uplifts what we are so vehemently fighting against — practices that prioritize being straight over being queer. So, as we continue to come out, employers will feel as if they have the right to know of one’s queer identity and terminate their employment upon learning of it.
Parents will demand to know of their children’s identity to “protect” them, which has more to do with managing their own appearances rather than caring for and empowering their queer children.
Friends and acquaintances will fight tooth and nail to decipher one’s queerness so they can gauge what this entails for their personal and religious beliefs, and ultimately whether the friendship should continue because they feel as if they may be courted by their queer friend (which mostly likely will never happen), thereby unsettling their perception of themselves.
Random strangers may also physically abuse and/or kill someone who reveals their sexual and/or gender identity on the basis of feeling as if they’ve been “lied” to or intentionally deceived.
So, if coming out is not the serve we think it is, then how to LGBTQ people live in their truth and show the world it’s okay to be queer? Well, the answer is simple: The culture surrounding gender and sexuality must change.
With regards to gender, we must get rid of both the “sex” and “gender” markers. Sex, in simple terms, refers to the genitals you were born with. Gender is the norms and behaviors that your parents and community around you project on you based on your sex.
Time and again, it has become clear that, sex and gender simply cannot exist in binaries (yes, there are people who are born with both a penis and vagina simultaneously, or even neither.) The culture we function under has prescribed behaviors to people with certain genitals and expectations to people who identify with either of the two genders. This should stop.
When it comes to health, medical professionals should be able to care for patients adequately and efficiently if they conceive of a person’s sexual organs as just being and not in relation to society’s faulty prescriptions. You might ask, what does this mean for science and research? Well, we can be inclusive in medical research by drawing on the experiences of all possible sex identities instead of just narrowing it down to just male/female. Intersex people exist too!
We should also abolish the notion of gender. When children are born, we should raise them as non-binary. Non-binary identity is the pinnacle of liberation because it rebels from the traditional boxes that confine identities. It allows people to be whoever they want, whenever, and on their own accord.
By encouraging children to socialize into nonbinary identity, we allow them to fully discover who they are and allow them to exist at any point in the identity spectrum without feeling the pressure to contort into a specific, one-dimensional mold of behavior. There is no one way to be anything. Identity is subjective and shifts and changes with time. Let children grow into themselves without being told from an early age that there’s a right and wrong way to be.
We should also set boundaries on how to have conversations about sexuality. Oftentimes, the people most interested in a person’s sexuality have no business knowing about it. Sexuality and sex is intimate, and therefore, people should respect that boundary. What someone does during intercourse and with whom they do it should be no one’s business. It should have no repercussions on one’s social capital. Quite frankly, with whom someone sleeps affects no one but themself and the sexual partners involved. You won’t die if your friend didn’t tell you they slept with someone who has the same genitals as them. Your company won’t go bankrupt if your employee doesn’t disclose that they’re transgender.
We should move past caring about representation and work towards actualizing our liberation. Representation is good; it is important to see yourself reflected in society. However, representation is not the end goal.
We should work to give poor queer people access to stable food, shelter and money. We should push for more queer-friendly mental health facilities. We should establish free universal healthcare that allows transgender individuals to medically transition at little to no cost. We should actively become anti-racist and create an environment where queer people of color never have to live under the shadow of racism.
Finally, we must stop worrying about straight people. The truth is, no matter how much we may try to create space for ourselves at a straight table, we’ll never be truly welcome. If we want to liberate ourselves we have to center ourselves, experiences and feelings. We have to fashion our own tables.
Appealing to straight people will never bring the acceptance and freedom we yearn so much for. If anything, it places us in an unending cycle where queerness is othered and never the norm enough for it to not matter.
So should queer people stop coming out? Not necessarily. However, it is imperative that we create a world where queerness is normal enough that we don’t need to come out.
Commentary
Elusive safety: what new global data reveals about gender, violence, and erasure
Movements against gender equality, lack of human rights data contributing factors.
“My identity could be revealed, people can say whatever they want [online] without consequences. [Hormone replacement therapy] is illegal here so I’m just waiting to find a way to get out of here.”
-Anonymous respondent to the 2024 F&M Global Barometers LGBTQI+ Perception Index from Iraq, self-identified as a transgender woman and lesbian
As the campaign for 16 Days Against Gender-Based Violence begins, it is a reminder that gender-based violence (GBV) — both on– and offline — not only impacts women and girls but everyone who has been harmed or abused because of their gender or perceived gender. New research from the Franklin & Marshall (F&M) Global Barometers and its report A Growing Backlash: Quantifying the Experiences of LGBTQI+ People, 2022-2024 starkly show trends of declining safety among LGBTQI+ persons around the world.
This erosion of safety is accelerated by movements against gender equality and the disappearance of credible human rights data and reporting. The fight against GBV means understanding all people’s lived realities, including those of LGBTQI+ people, alongside the rights we continue to fight for.
We partnered together while at USAID and Franklin & Marshall College to expand the research and evidence base to better understand GBV against LGBTQI+ persons through the F&M Global Barometers. The collection of barometers tracks the legal rights and lived experiences of LGBTQI+ persons from 204 countries and territories from 2011 to the present. With more than a decade of data, it allows us to see how rights have progressed and receded as well as the gaps between legal protections and lived experiences of discrimination and violence.
This year’s data reveals alarming trends that highlight how fear and violence are, at its root, gendered phenomena that affect anyone who transgresses traditional gender norms.
LGBTQI+ people feel less safe
Nearly two-thirds of countries experienced a decline in their score on the F&M Global Barometers LGBTQI+ Perception Index (GBPI) from 2022-2024. This represents a five percent drop in global safety scores in just two years. With almost 70 percent of countries receiving an “F” grade on the GBPI, this suggests a global crisis in actual human rights protections for LGBTQI+ people.
Backsliding on LGBTQI+ human rights is happening everywhere, even in politically stable, established democracies with human rights protections for LGBTQI+ people. Countries in Western Europe and the Americas experienced the greatest negative GBPI score changes globally, 74 and 67 percent, respectively. Transgender people globally reported the highest likelihood of violence, while trans women and intersex people reported the highest levels of feeling very unsafe or unsafe simply because of who they are.
Taboo of gender equality
Before this current administration dismantled USAID, I helped create an LGBTQI+ inclusive whole-of-government strategy to prevent and respond to GBV that highlighted the unique forms of GBV against LGBTQI+ persons. This included so-called ‘corrective’ rape related to actual or perceived sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression” and so-called ‘conversion’ therapy practices that seek to change or suppress a person’s gender identity or expression, sexual orientation, or sex characteristics. These efforts helped connect the dots in understanding that LGBTQI+ violence is rooted in the same systems of inequality and power imbalances as the broader spectrum of GBV against women and girls.
Losing data and accountability
Data that helps better understand GBV against LGBTQI+ persons is also disappearing. Again, the dismantling of USAID meant a treasure trove of research and reports on LGBTQI+ rights have been lost. Earlier this year, the US Department of State removed LGBTQI+ reporting from its annual Human Rights Reports. These played a critical role in providing credible sources for civil society, researchers, and policymakers to track abuses and advocate for change.
If violence isn’t documented, it’s easier for governments to deny it even exists and harder for us to hold governments accountable. Yet when systems of accountability work, governments and civil society can utilize data in international forums like the UN Universal Periodic Review, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, and the Sustainable Development Goals to assess progress and compliance and call for governments to improve protections.
All may not be lost if other countries and donors fill the void by supporting independent data collection and reporting efforts like the F&M Global Barometers and other academic and civil society monitoring. Such efforts are essential to the fight against GBV: The data helps show that the path toward safety, equality, and justice is within our reach if we’re unafraid of truth and visibility of those most marginalized and impacted.
Jay Gilliam (he/him/his) was the Senior LGBTQI+ Coordinator at USAID and is a member of the Global Outreach Advisory Council of the F&M Global Barometers.
Susan Dicklitch-Nelson (she/her/hers) is the founder of the F&M Global Barometers and Professor of Government at Franklin & Marshall College.
Commentary
Second ‘lavender scare’ is harming our veterans. We know how to fix it
Out in National Security has built Trans Veterans State and Local Policy Toolkit
Seventy years after the first “lavender scare” drove LGBTQ Americans from public service, a second version is taking shape. Executive directives and administrative reviews have targeted transgender servicemembers and veterans, producing a new wave of quiet separations and lost benefits.
The policy language is technical, but the result is personal. Veterans who served honorably now face disrupted healthcare, delayed credentials, or housing barriers that no act of Congress ever required. Once again, Americans who met every standard of service are being told that their identity disqualifies them from stability.
Out in National Security built the Trans Veterans State and Local Policy Toolkit to change that. The toolkit gives state and local governments a practical path to repair harm through three measurable actions.
First, continuity of care. States can keep veterans covered by adopting presumptive Medicaid eligibility, aligning timelines with VA enrollment, and training providers in evidence-based gender-affirming care following the World Professional Association for Transgender Health Standards of Care Version 8.
Second, employment, and licensing. Governors and boards can recognize Department of Defense credentials, expedite licensing under existing reciprocity compacts, and ensure nondiscrimination in state veterans’ employment statutes.
Third, housing stability. States can designate transgender-veteran housing liaisons, expand voucher access, and enforce fair-housing protections that already exist in law.
Each step can be taken administratively within 90 days and requires no new federal legislation. The goal is straightforward: small, state-level reforms that yield rapid, measurable improvement in veterans’ daily lives.
The toolkit was introduced during a Veterans Week event hosted by the Center for American Progress, where federal and state leaders joined Out in National Security to highlight the first wave of state agencies adopting its recommendations. The discussion underscored how targeted, administrative reforms can strengthen veterans’ healthcare, employment, and housing outcomes without new legislation. Full materials and implementation resources are now available at outinnationalsecurity.org/public-policy/toolkit, developed in partnership with Minority Veterans of America, the Modern Military Association of America, SPARTA Pride, and the Human Rights Campaign.
These are technical fixes, but they carry moral weight. They reaffirm a basic democratic promise: service earns respect, not suspicion.
As a policy professional who has worked with veterans across the country, I see this moment as a test of civic integrity. The measure of a democracy is not only who it allows to serve but how it treats them afterward.
The second “lavender scare” will end when institutions at every level decide that inclusion is an obligation, not an exception. The toolkit offers a way to begin.
For more information or to access the toolkit once it is public, visit outinnationalsecurity.org/toolkit.
Lucas F. Schleusener is the CEO of Out in National Security.
Commentary
Miss Major Griffin-Gracy paved the way for today’s transgender rights revolution
The annual Transgender Day of Remembrance is Nov. 20
I’ll never forget the moment Miss Major Griffin-Gracy looked me in the eye and said, “Baby, you can’t wait for permission to exist. You take up space because you deserve to be here.” It was 2016, and I had just finished interviewing her at Northeastern University. What began as a professional encounter became something far deeper. She welcomed me into her chosen family with the fierce love that defined her life’s work.
That advice didn’t just change my perspective; it changed my life. Miss Major had an extraordinary ability to see potential in people before they saw it themselves. She offered guidance that gave permission to dream bigger, fight harder, and live unapologetically in a world that often told transgender people we didn’t belong.
Today, as we reflect on her legacy, we must remember that Miss Major didn’t simply join the transgender rights movement. She helped create it. Her activism laid the foundation for every victory we celebrate today and continues to shape how we fight for justice, dignity, and equality.
To understand her impact, we return to June 28, 1969, when a 27-year-old Black transgender woman stood her ground at the Stonewall Inn. While history often overlooks the transgender women of color at the heart of that uprising, Miss Major was there, refusing to back down when police raided the bar that night.
After Stonewall, she dedicated her life to building what became the infrastructure of liberation. When she fought that night, she wasn’t only resisting police brutality, she was declaring that transgender people, especially Black trans women, would no longer be invisible. Her message was simple: We exist. We matter. We’re not going anywhere.
Miss Major coupled courage with care. She knew that real change required systems of support. While many focused on changing laws, she focused on changing lives. Her work with incarcerated transgender women stands as one of her most powerful legacies. She visited prisons, wrote letters, sent commissary money, and made sure these women knew they weren’t forgotten. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was transformative.
She built a model of organizing rooted in love and mutual aid communities supporting each other while demanding structural change. That approach became the blueprint for today’s transgender rights organizations, especially those centering Black trans women.
In a time when invisibility was often the safest choice, Miss Major chose visibility. She shared her story again and again, using her own life as proof of transgender resilience and humanity. Her openness created connection and understanding. People who heard her speak couldn’t ignore the truth of our existence or the strength it takes to live authentically.
Miss Major also believed leadership meant creating space for others. After our first meeting, she connected me with other activists, shared resources, and reminded me that my voice mattered. Talk to any transgender activist who came up in the last two decades, and you’ll hear a similar story. She saw something in others and nurtured it until it bloomed.
Her fingerprints are everywhere in today’s movement: in grassroots organizing, in the centering of the most marginalized voices, and in the insistence that liberation must be rooted in love and community. The victories we see (from healthcare access to broader public recognition) are built on the foundation she laid.
In one of our last conversations, Miss Major told me, “This movement isn’t about me. It’s about all of us. And it’s about the ones who come after us.” Her life reminds us that movements are sustained by love as much as protest, by the daily act of showing up for one another as much as by the marches and rallies.
As anti-trans violence rises and our rights face relentless attacks, we need Miss Major’s example more than ever. We need her fierce love, her unwavering defiance, and her belief that we deserve to take up space. Her legacy reminds us that the fight for our lives is also the fight for our joy.
This Transgender Day of Remembrance, we honor those we’ve lost and celebrate those who dared to live fully, people like Miss Major, who taught us that remembrance must come with responsibility. Her life calls us to protect one another, to build systems of care, and to keep fighting for a world where every trans person can live safely and proudly.
The mother of our movement may be gone, but the family she built lives on. The best way to honor her is to continue her work: to build, to protect, to love without limits, and to remind every trans person that they belong, they matter, and they are loved.

Chastity Bowick is an award-winning activist, civil rights leader, and transgender health advocate who has dedicated her career to empowering transgender and gender-nonconforming communities. She led the Transgender Emergency Fund of Massachusetts for seven years, opening New England’s first trans transitional home, and now heads Chastity’s Consulting & Talent Group, LLC. In 2025, she became Interim Executive Director of the Marsha P. Johnson Institute, continuing her mission to advance equity, safety, and opportunity for trans people. Her leadership has earned her numerous honors recognizing her impact on social justice and community care.
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