a&e features

Paradise lost: Remembering the popular Rehoboth men’s guest house

Beach town’s pioneering B&B welcomed gay clientele before arrival of AIDS

Published

4 years ago

September 2, 2021

The Paradise Guest House operated at 40 Maryland Ave. for eight seasons. Herbert and Mami are depicted in this painting. (Painting by Pamela Bounds)

“What hath night to do with sleep?” John Milton, A Journey to Paradise

In February 1987, 30-something Bill Courville was at his Mt. Pleasant neighborhood home. He opened the new edition of the Washington Blade. As usual, he read it from beginning to end. With a Ph.D. in psychology, Bill enjoyed the classifieds. It lifted his spirits after reading obituaries of gay men and news of meager AIDS funding from the Reagan administration. Sandwiched between personals and escorts were real estate sales listings, including a one-inch ad about a B&B in downtown Rehoboth Beach, Del.

Bill thought about his youthful days living in New Orleans and working at the Maison De Ville, a small dusty red stucco painted guest house overlooking Toulouse Street. There Tennessee Williams had once lived while penning “A Street Car Named Desire” — when not sipping Sazarac cocktails in the garden courtyard.

He circled the ad and placed it on the kitchen counter for his lover, Bob, to read. The couple had met two years earlier crossing the P Street Bridge and had gradually merged their lives. After Bob looked at the ad, Bill suggested: “Let’s go look at this! We will have a business and an income — and a place to live!” Born in Minnesota, Bob Jerome, the more cautious of the pair, had grown up in California, attending college in Claremont and later working as a Senate staffer. Like Bill, he had a doctorate and traveled throughout the world before their P Street encounter. Unlike Bob, however, Bill never had been to Rehoboth. Nevertheless, Bill insisted this could be their next adventure or at least an excuse to visit the shore off-season.

“It’s a great seasonal resort,” Bob responded positively. “Everybody goes there. There’s gay life!”

The next weekend, they crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and drove to Paradise. Rehoboth was mostly shuttered. But the Renegade bar was open at the fringe of town as was the Blue Moon along the gaying Baltimore Avenue. Driving one street over, they arrived at 40 Maryland Ave.

John, the Realtor, whose lover “Dolly” performed at the Moon, met the couple at the 19th-century house. “It was pretty awful,” remembers Bill. The fatigued Paradise Guest House sign was washed-out and the wide front porch with its handcrafted trellis lusted for paint. The pipes were drained. There was no heat or electricity. There were slivers of mirrors glued on living room walls, a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, 1930s over-stuffed maroon chairs, and yard sale grade furniture facing an old TV. The scent of stale cigarette smoke lingered in the ceilings and walls.

As they wandered through the 28 rooms — most barely wide enough for a floor mattress with a thin plastic sheet and an occasional odd-fitting dresser — they eyed stacks of men’s magazines (Honcho, Mandate, Bound & Gagged), iconic videos like “Boys in the Sand,” “Stryker Force,” and “Pacific Coast Highway,” along with chests of dildos in every imaginable size. Off the living room, a narrow passageway at a left angle to the main corridor led to the first-floor bedrooms. At the end was a trap door. They didn’t venture down. “Seasonal resorts like the Paradise were kind of like bars,” Bill explains. “They look great at night but don’t look at them during the day.”

On their drive back, the couple chatted about the venture. “I told Bill that if we were going to invest, he needed to run it so we could learn the business.” Bob knew his income would cover their personal expenses as long as Bill was willing to do the day-to-day management. “We were youngish. I don’t think we thought about what a massive undertaking it was…. But it seemed right.”

After purchasing the property, they along with some friends had just a few months before the 10-week season began on Memorial Day weekend. “We’d drag them down there and make them work, saying, ‘Oh, you can go to the beach.’ But, of course they never did go as it was always cold and rainy.” Bill wondered, “Does the sun ever shine here?”

Those next weeks were frantic: discarding discolored mattresses and sex toys; tearing out faux bedroom walls to restore the original 14 rooms; buying new white wicker furniture; upgrading the bathrooms, deck, and kitchen. Everything was thoroughly cleaned. Fresh white paint glistened on the walls and gray-painted floors replaced piles of tattered, sandy rugs. A local lesbian contractor built sturdy outside showers replacing a rickety wooden stall connected by a water hose and lined with reflective aluminum foil — designed more for strutting than showering.

“It was a huge undertaking,” admits Bill. “Everything we had was sunk into it. It had to be open!” He remembers one man calling a few days before asking if he could change check-in to Wednesday. “No, you can’t,” Bill said flatly. “You can come Friday at 2 o’clock, but not one minute sooner!”

With little time to advertise in this pre-Internet era, they did their best to explain the changes to former guests, beginning with its new name: The Rehoboth Guest House. More importantly, it now was open to lesbians as well as straights and there was no smoking. “We had a mix of friends,” says Bill. “So it would be gay-owned and operated but pretty much open to whoever wanted to come…. We had been discriminated against for most of our lives. If you don’t want to come you don’t have to.”

Remembering Paradise

Reactions from Paradise veterans varied when Bill and Bob discarded the blue, white, and yellow “Paradise Guest House” sign and, more importantly, its ethos of male eros. One of the new owners’ early supporters was Charlie Allen, who worked in the Baltimore schools but summered in Rehoboth. “He was writing a book,” Bill reveals, “called ‘Summer Sisters’… they were sisters for the summer.” Bob interjects, “The other part of the title was ‘Some Are Not.’ So, it was ‘Summer Sisters [pronounced Some Are Sisters]: Some Are Not.’Charlie died before publishing his book—which has never been found.

Unlike Charlie, “some hardcore folks were upset,” Bob recalls. “This used to be a gay male oasis” where men could “be themselves: wearing dresses; walking around naked; having piercings everywhere. They could get out of their suits and live the lives they wanted with people like them.” In an understanding tone, Bob adds: “That’s hard to take away.” The Paradise was a safe spot not only for Philadelphia accountants, D.C. staffers, and Baltimore teachers, but college kids enjoying summer break, career embarking twinks, and closeted locals seeking safe harbor.

Charlie was best friends with the German-accented Paradise owner Herbert Koerber and his boyfriend, Alvarado Ortiz-Benavides, whom everyone called “Mami”— colloquial Spanish for sweetheart. A gregarious man with fading hair and a reddish beard, Charlie often helped Mami with housekeeping and other chores. Mostly, though, he just enjoyed the sexual freedom of Paradise and the camaraderie among male guests. Some returned each year for a week, others visited more frequently for long weekends, and a few stayed the entire summer. Most guests were younger than Charlie’s 40 odd years, but everyone seemed to get along.

Most of Koerber’s clientele came from word-of-mouth advertising, although there was a classified ad in summer issues of the Washington Blade: “friendly guesthouse, close to beaches and bars.” One of the very first media stories about gay Rehoboth appeared in the May 1980 issue of this iconic paper. It described Paradise as “utterly comfortable” and quoted 38-year-old Herbert: “Tell people I can put them up — maybe even give them a discount during the week — but on weekends, after the bars close, my lobby will be packed.”

Before Herbert opened Paradise, in 1979, there were no openly gay-owned or gay-friendly advertised guest houses in Rehoboth. The Sandcastle, a decrepit speakeasy-like rooming house owned briefly by several gay men, had burnt to the ground four years earlier. The grand Pleasant Inn Lodge, hosted by the reclusive, debonair bachelor Peck Pleasanton and his octogenarian mother, Bessie, welcomed an occasional well-behaved “single” gentleman.

During eight seasons, Paradise evolved as did Herbert and Mami. The two were an odd pair. Herbert, a “fussy queen” who swore like a sailor, was tall and thin with longish hair and a handlebar mustache. He was always tanned even though his forehead would get beet red given his German complexion. The much shorter Mami, whose family was from South America, was soft-spoken and very sweet. Compared to the larger-than-life Herbert, he was less memorable to guests. Bob describes Herbert as “the German businessman. Mami was the onetime boy-toy.” They wintered in Key West, operating a gift shop and hawking kitsch souvenirs like black velvet paintings and seashell coasters.

Herbert monetized every aspect of Paradise, creating a sexual Disneyland. With 28 “teensy rooms the size of bathhouse cubicles,” there could be upwards of 50 men checked-in along with their friends and friends of their friends, wandering in during the night. However, the number of bathrooms — two full baths and two halves — did not expand. “It was shabby and crowded, but we were young and didn’t care,” one Paradise regular muses. “It had a reputation. It was our party house.”

The second floor became clothing optional with men often walking around with towels during midnight hours. Plywood partitions were set between rooms with guests on one side having a window and the other windowless. Herbert’s “summer curtains” served instead of doors, which allowed air (and guests) to circulate. Those with bedroom windows overlooking the sundeck could easily extend an invitation to a coconut-lotioned twink or a weightlifting hunk. “Everything went on at the deck and in the windows and rooms behind it,” recalls a frequent guest. There were late Saturday afternoon happy hours and skit contests. Staging was festive, if not overly decorative, with a jerry-rigged backstage area for costume changing. A raucous backyard crowd cheered contestants.

Originally, there was a huge gabled attic bedroom that required ascending a steep stairway. Herbert slashed it into a tiny single air-conditioned room with the remaining space transformed into an after dark playground full of mattresses with an aroma of poppers and pot. “Herbert turned every square inch of that attic into a bed sleeping sex area. It was masterful,” Bob says in a praiseworthy tone. “Every inch was geared toward pleasure” And, as he and Bill later discovered, There was a leather sling in the “dungeon,” a 10 x 12 cinder block walled room accessed only from the first floor trap door.

Room rates were low and backyard camping was just $5 for those bringing tents. Campers, though, had to be late night partiers. Before dawn, visitors often entered from the alley along a little path leading to the unlocked side gate. Nocturnal grunts, gasps, and groans harmonized to sounds of crashing waves. Back then, as one Paradise regular stresses, “Sex wasn’t a taboo thing. It was like going to lunch! It was as common as going for a cocktail.”

During the day, Herbert was often found in his flip-flops, T-shirt, and khaki shorts, puttering in the garden or tending to his beloved lacecap hydrangeas gracing the front yard. Herbert was estranged from his German-speaking family so Paradise regulars became his family. Friendly, he knew everyone by their first name but don’t ask to reserve a specific room. One returning guest remembers phoning Herbert for a reservation and requesting a first-floor room with a door: “Oh, honey!” Herbert laughed. “It’s just first come, first served.”

Herbert did repairs only when absolutely necessary. But he’d always be painting, using just one color: white. The exception was the wrap-around front porch, lined with rocking chairs, which had a gray floor and ceiling along with knob and tube wiring. Throughout the house, guests used it to hang clothes since there were no closets.

In the early to mid 1980s, Paradise thrived as a money making machine — a bathhouse on the beach. As the number of gay-owned restaurants and bars multiplied along with accompanying media attention, more gay men vacationed at Rehoboth and visited Paradise. “There was a routine,” one recounts. “You’d get up late. Get yourself down to the gay beach. Do a day at the ocean, getting too much sun. Then there was happy hour at the Moon. You had to be there and have a nice look. Then you’d go back, take a nap, and then go to dinner. Then, onto the Renegade!”

Herbert provided a weekend shuttle to the Renegade. About 10 o’clock, he’d drive up in his light colored blue and white ’60s VW van, hop out and, as a regular recollects, “Scream down the hallways: ’Get your asses down here!’” He shuttled guests back-and-forth, with the last pick-up at 1. ”I remember Herbert telling people in his heavy accent, ‘If you miss the last bus, you have to walk the fuck home!” But his gruffness masked protectiveness. ”He’d warn them he was going and he would even count!” Another frequent visitor remembers Herbert “as the kind of guy you’d call at 3 o’clock in the morning to say, ‘I’m in jail.’ And he’d be there.”

Paradise Lost

In 1980, reports surfaced about clusters of young gay men contacting Pneumocystis pneumonia. Granted the majority of infections and deaths from this “gay cancer” were in New York City and San Francisco, but the Washington Blade published a landmark front-page story, “Rare, Fatal Pneumonia Hits Gay Men,” inJuly 1981.

Herbert began to worry. One guest, living in New York City and volunteering as an AIDS buddy, remembers porch conversations with Herbert. ”He was talking about buying a second one. Then he said, ’I’m concerned since so many people are getting AIDS, I’m not sure whether or not I’ll have a clientele.’”

For many gays, Paradise was a rare time to be themselves and to enjoy the camaraderie and support from other men at a beach resort. Sadly, for some, it was also a death sentence. Sexual desire and psychological denial coupled with governmental inaction and public apathy fueled the AIDS pandemic.

After the 1986 summer season, Herbert and Mami sojourned, as usual, to Key West; Herbert never returned. ”I can remember being surprised to hear that he was ill,” laments a longtime patron. ”He went quickly; we had no indications he was ill.”

Herbert died a week before Bill and Bob opened on Memorial Day weekend. Mami was with him until the end. Like Paradise, he disappeared into history and, along with Herbert and many of his guests, would be remembered by few.

James Sears’ latest book, “Behind the Boardwalk: Queering the History of Rehoboth Beach” will be published next year. Tom Kelch, manger of the Rehoboth Beach Guest House, contributed research to this article.

Up Next

Baltimore’s ‘Visionary’ curator prepares to step down

Don't Miss

Lesbian Bar Project to the rescue

FUND LGBTQ JOURNALISM

a&e features

D.C. LGBTQ sports bar Pitchers listed for sale

Move follows months of challenges for local businesses in wake of Trump actions

Published

1 day ago

January 30, 2026

Lou Chibbaro Jr.

Pitchers is for sale at an undisclosed price. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

A Santa Monica, Calif.-based commercial real estate company called Zacuto Group has released a 20-page online brochure announcing the sale of the D.C. LGBTQ sports bar Pitchers and its adjoining lesbian bar A League of Her Own.

The brochure does not disclose the sale price, and Pitchers owner David Perruzza told the Washington Blade he prefers to hold off on talking about his plans to sell the business at this time.

He said the sale price will be disclosed to “those who are interested.”

“Matthew Luchs and Matt Ambrose of the Zacuto Group have been selected to exclusively market for sale Pitchers D.C., located at 2317 18^th Street, NW in Washington, D.C located in the vibrant and nightlife Adams Morgan neighborhood,” the sales brochure states.

“Since opening its doors in 2018, Pitchers has quickly become the largest and most prominent LGBTQ+ bar in Washington, D.C., serving as a cornerstone of D.C.’s modern queer nightlife scene,” it says, adding, “The 10,000+ SF building designed as a large-scale inclusive LGBTQ+ sports bar and social hub, offering a welcoming environment for the entire community.”

It points out that the Pitchers building, which has two years remaining on its lease and has a five-year renewal option, is a multi-level venue that features five bar areas, “indoor and outdoor seating, and multiple patios, creating a dynamic and flexible layout that supports a wide range of events and high customer volume.”

“Pitchers D.C. is also home to A League of Her Own, the only dedicated lesbian bar in Washington, D.C., further strengthening its role as a vital and inclusive community space at a time when such venues are increasingly rare nationwide,” the brochure says.

Zacuto Group sales agent Luchs, who serves as the company’s senior vice president, did not immediately respond to a phone message left by the Blade seeking further information, including the sale price.

News of Perruzza’s decision to sell Pitchers and A League of Her Own follows his Facebook postings last fall saying Pitchers, like other bars in D.C., was adversely impacted by the Trump administration’s deployment of National Guard soldiers on D.C. streets

In an Oct. 10 Facebook post, Perruzza said he was facing, “probably the worst economy I have seen in a while and everyone in D.C. is dealing with the Trump drama.” He told the Blade in a Nov. 10 interview that Pitchers continued to draw a large customer base, but patrons were not spending as much on drinks.

The Zacuto Group sales brochure says Pitchers currently provides a “rare combination of scale, multiple bars, inclusivity, and established reputation that provides a unique investment opportunity for any buyer seeking a long-term asset with a loyal and consistent customer base,” suggesting that, similar to other D.C. LGBTQ bars, business has returned to normal with less impact from the Trump related issues.

The sales brochure can be accessed here.

a&e features

Alexander Skarsgård describes ‘Pillion’ in 3 words: lube, sweat, leather

Highly anticipated film a refreshingly loving look at Dom-sub life

Published

2 days ago

January 29, 2026

Susan Hornik

Harry Melling and Alexander Skarsgård star in ‘Pillion,’ which premieres in the U.S. on Feb. 6. (Photo courtesy of A24)

Whether you’ve seen him in popular HBO series like “True Blood,” “Succession,” or “Big Little Lies,” the dynamic Swedish actor Alexander Skarsgård has that smoldering gaze that immediately draws viewers in.

Following in the footsteps of his father Stellan, (who just won the Golden Globe for “Sentimental Value”) the Golden Globe, Emmy, and SAG winner Skarsgård continues to be an actor who is fearless in the roles he takes on.

That courageousness is evident in Skarsgård’s latest film, the BDSM black comedy “Pillion,”which he also executive produces. He plays Ray, the handsome, hyper-dominant leader of a gay bike gang. The film was written and directed by Harry Lighton, and is based on the 2020 novel “Box Hill,” by Adam Mars-Jones.

“This was a small film by a first time filmmaker and it wasn’t financed when I read it,” Skarsgård told journalists at a recent awards news conference. “And I felt that, if I could help in any small way of getting it financed, I wanted to, because I thought it was such an incredible screenplay and I believe in Harry Lighton so much as a filmmaker. And it felt tonally unlike anything I’d ever read. It was such an exciting, surprising read.”

Skarsgård was blown away by the quality of the unconventional script. “When I heard BDSM relationship, biker culture, I expected something very different. I didn’t expect it to have so much sweetness and tenderness and awkwardness.”

For the sex scenes and nudity with co-star, Harry Melling — who excels in his portrayal as Ray’s submissive Colin — Skarsgård talked very early on with Lighton about how he wanted to shoot those scenes, and why they were in the film.

“I often find sex scenes quite boring in movies because a lot of the tension is in the drama leading up to two people hooking up, or several people hooking up, as in our movie. But what I really enjoyed about these scenes — they are all pivotal moments in Colin’s journey and his development. It’s the first time he gets a blowjob. It’s the first time he has sex. It’s the first time he has an orgasm. And these are pivotal moments for him, so they mean a lot. And that made those scenes impactful and important.”

Skarsgård was happy that Lighton’s script didn’t have gratuitous scenes that shock for the sake of just shocking. “I really appreciated that because I find that when this subculture is portrayed, it’s often dangerous and crazy and wild and something like transgressive.”

He continued: “I really love that Harry wanted it to feel real. It can be sexy and intense, but also quite loving and sweet. And you can have an orgy in the woods, rub up against a Sunday roast with the family. And that kind of feels real.”

One of the obstacles Skarsgård had to work with was Ray’s emotionally distant personality.

“Ray is so enigmatic throughout the film and you obviously never find out anything about him, his past. He doesn’t reveal much. He doesn’t expose himself. And that was a challenge to try to make the character interesting, because that could easily feel quite flat…That was something that I thought quite a lot about in pre production…there are no big dramatic shifts in his arc.”

For the film, Lighton consulted the GMBCC, the UK’s largest LGBT+ biker club, attending their annual meetup at which 80 riders were present.

“Working with these guys was extraordinary and it brought so much texture and richness to the film to have them present,” said Skarsgård. “They were incredibly sweet and guiding with us — I can’t imagine making this movie without them. I’d go on a road trip with them anytime.”

Added Skarsgård: “To sum up ‘Pillion’ in three words: lube, sweat, and leather. I hope people will connect with Colin and his journey, and come to understand the nuance and complexity of his bond with Ray.”

This year is shaping up to be a busy one for Skarsgård. “Pillion” premieres in select cities on Feb. 6 and then moves into wide release on Feb. 20. After that for Skarsgård is a role in queer ally Charli XCX’s mockumentary, “The Moment,” which premieres at the Sundance Film Festival. HIs sci-fi comedy series, Apple TV’s “Murderbot,” which he also executive produces, will begin filming its second season. And this weekend, he hosts “Saturday Night Live.”

a&e features

MISTR’s Tristan Schukraft on evolution of HIV prevention

From ACT UP to apps, embracing stigma-free care

Published

1 week ago

January 22, 2026

AJ Sloan

Tristan Schukraft (Photo courtesy of Schukraft)

It was not too long ago that an HIV diagnosis was read as a death sentence. In its earlier decades, the HIV/AIDS crisis was synonymous with fear and loss, steeped in stigma. Over recent years, open conversation and science have come together to combat this stigma while proactively paving the way for life-saving treatments and preventive measures like PrEP. Now, in 2026, with discreet and modern platforms that meet people where they’re at in their lives, HIV prevention has evolved from hushed words of warning into something far more sex-positive and accessible. Game-changing services like MISTR are a testament to this shift, showing our community that healthcare doesn’t have to feel clinical or shaming to work. It can be empowering and, dare I say, celebratory.

Few people embody this evolution quite like Tristan Schukraft, founder of MISTR. With one hand in healthcare and the other high-fiving through queer nightlife, Schukraft gets that, from the bar to the bedroom and beyond, prevention happens in person and in real life. His approach has helped turn PrEP, DoxyPEP, and testing into normalized parts of our daily queer life, reaching hundreds of thousands of people across the US.

In our conversation, Schukraft shares candidly about stigma, policy, and why the future of sexual health depends on keeping it real.

BLADE: You have one hand in healthcare and the other in nightlife and queer spaces. Can you share with us how these two spheres impact and inform each other? How do they impact and inform you?

SCHUKRAFT: Honestly, for me, they’ve never been separate. Nightlife and queer spaces are where people meet, date, hook up, fall in love, and make friends. That’s real life. Being in queer spaces all the time keeps me grounded and reminds me who we’re building MISTR for.

BLADE: MISTR markets sexual health in a sex-positive, stigma-free fashion. Can you share with us how you measure the impact of this approach?

SCHUKRAFT: This year, we held the first-ever National PrEP Day. Dua Lipa performed, and Cardi B was there. After the event, Cardi B went on her Instagram live to encourage people to sign up for PrEP.

When you make sexual health stigma-free and sex positive, people talk about it. We see it in how people use the platform. When 700,000 people are willing to sign up, get tested, start PrEP, and add things like DoxyPEP, that tells us we’ve made it feel safe and normal instead of scary or awkward. And then we see it in the results. Since we expanded DoxyPEP, STI positivity among our patients dropped by half.

BLADE: How have you seen the conversation of sexual health in our LGBTQ+ community change in mainstream culture in recent years?

SCHUKRAFT: Ten years ago, nobody was casually talking about PrEP, and if they did, it likely referenced one being a Truvada whore. Now it’s part of the culture. Popstars like Troye Sivan post pictures of their daily PrEP pill on social media. Cardi B goes on Instagram Live telling people to get on PrEP.

For many sexually active gay men, taking PrEP is simply part of the gay experience. For people in more remote areas, it might not be as talked about. Particularly in rural or more conservative places, MISTR can be a life-changing option. No awkward visits to the family doctor or the local pharmacy where everybody knows your business. It’s all done discreetly online and shipped straight to your door.

BLADE: You have publicly argued that cuts to government HIV prevention funding are of high risk. Would you please elaborate for us on what those budget decisions mean on an individual level?

SCHUKRAFT: It means real people fall through the cracks. Someone doesn’t get tested. Someone waits too long to start PrEP. Someone finds out they’re HIV-positive later than they should have. Community clinics will be the hardest hit, especially those in underserved communities. The good news is that MISTR is ready to help people who might lose their access to care. All you need to do is sign up at mistr.com, and it’s totally free with or without insurance.

BLADE: From your (and MISTR’s) perspective, how do these funding cuts threaten ongoing efforts to end the HIV epidemic?

SCHUKRAFT: For the first time, we have all the tools to end HIV. If everybody who is HIV negative is taking PrEP and everyone HIV+ is virally suppressed, we can end all new HIV transmissions in the United States. We have everything we need today. All we need is to get more people on PrEP. Cutting funding risks losing that momentum. Ending HIV requires scale and consistency. Every time funding gets cut, you lose momentum, trust, and infrastructure, and rebuilding that takes years.

HIV transmissions don’t pause because budgets change.

BLADE: In our current climate of decreased federal investment, what role do you feel private healthcare and business should play in sexual health?

SCHUKRAFT: With reports that the current administration is considering cuts to HIV and prevention funding, we face a moment of reckoning. At the same time, some employers are seeking to exclude PrEP and HIV prevention from their coverage on religious freedom grounds. If these challenges succeed, and if federal funding is slashed, the consequences for public health will be devastating. But this is where the private sector must step up to fill the gap, bridge divides, and deliver results.

Businesses have the power and platform to normalize HIV prevention and drive measurable outcomes. At MISTR, we see firsthand what’s possible: since introducing DoxyPEP, STI positivity rates among our patients have been cut in half. But it’s not just about medication. It’s about messaging.

Our sex-positive, stigma-free marketing speaks directly to our community, making sexual health part of everyday life. No awkward doctor visits, no needles, no paperwork — just free online PrEP and STI testing, prescribed by real physicians and delivered to your door. That kind of impact could grow exponentially if more employers embraced this approach and made HIV prevention part of their employee wellness programs.

Employers, this is your call to action. Start by making sure your health plans cover PrEP and DoxyPEP. Partner with platforms like MISTR to give employees private, stigma-free access to care. Offer on-site testing. Talk openly about sexual health, not just during Pride, but every day of the year. This is not political — this is about protecting lives, strengthening communities, and building a healthier, more productive workforce. Because healthy employees aren’t just good for public health — they’re good for business.

When the private sector steps up, outcomes improve. And when businesses align with platforms like MISTR, scaling impact isn’t just possible — it’s happening.

BLADE: Has MISTR experienced any direct effects from these recent shifts in public health funding?

SCHUKRAFT: MISTR’s unique model is totally free for patients with or without insurance, and we don’t cost the government or taxpayers a penny. We are scaling up our efforts to reach people who might be losing their access or care.

BLADE: What would be your message to policymakers who are considering further cuts to HIV/AIDS programs?

SCHUKRAFT: During his first term, President Donald Trump committed unprecedented resources to the Ending the HIV Epidemic initiative here at home. Bipartisan support has shown what’s possible when bold leadership meets smart strategy. To policymakers: I urge you to reconsider any cuts to HIV prevention funding. This is not the time to pull back. It’s the time to push forward. Ending HIV is within reach — but only if government, private industry, and community organizations stand together.

BLADE: What is one perhaps overlooked win from last year that impacted you on a personal level?

SCHUKRAFT: Seeing our STI positivity rate drop by half after expanding DoxyPEP.

BLADE: Looking at the year ahead, what are MISTR’s most significant priorities for sexual health in 2026?

SCHUKRAFT: Expanding access, especially in the South and in communities that still get left out. Rolling out injectable PrEP. And just continuing to make sexual healthcare easier and more normal.