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I survived overwhelming grief thanks to unexpected support systems

A lifeline I didn’t know I had — or needed

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The author (right) with his brother Tom Alexander (left) and husband Paul (center).

When tragedy strikes, you never know what will happen next. What’s the next punch in the gut that will knock you unconscious? That is what happened to me on March 20, 2021, when my beautiful, healthy, loving brother Tom died suddenly of a heart attack. A man who was 53 years old, ran five miles a day, and ate salads, tuna, and grilled chicken. And here I was, his younger brother, who sometimes eats poorly and rarely exercises, left to pick up the pieces once again. 

The news came as a shock. My husband and I were relaxing, reading the paper and having a mimosa. Then, my brother’s mother-in-law called. As she relayed to me what had happened, I blacked out, unable to comprehend what she was saying. In fact, I did not even know who she was. I handed the phone to my husband, confused and convinced that what was happening was not actually happening. But it was happening. My brother was dead, and my precious 15-year-old niece was alone with him when it occurred.

I collapsed on the floor and was inconsolable, and I remained in that state for hours. Even our two cats were concerned, circling me nonstop, as I loudly wailed and screamed, noises they had never heard in the 11 years since we adopted them from the shelter. Finally, my husband Paul told me that I had to call my parents to tell them what had happened. Somehow, I mustered the strength to do so, recalling the similar moment in 1997 when my parents called me to inform me that my oldest brother David had died by suicide. I called them, but I don’t remember much of what I said. All I remember was my mom saying, “Not Tom!” Next, I called my mom’s sister and informed her of the news. More shock, grief, anguish, and confusion. Worried about my parents being alone, I left messages with their friends, Jack and Nina, and asked if they could go over and be with them until I could get there. 

My husband, Paul, and I struggled that day to simply figure out how and when to fly to South Carolina to be with my family. I was completely useless, unable to do anything to help with arrangements. Paul put aside his grief for the loss of his brother-in-law and friend to take care of me, like he’s always done. And ever since, he has continued to do so—through all of my anxiety attacks, grief, anger, and inability to attend social functions. He has been my rock, and my love for him has never been greater. 

What happened in the days after I got to South Carolina remains a blur — flowers, gifts, kind calls, me having to write my brother’s obituary and help with arrangements, including picking up the death certificate — on my birthday no less. What also happened was silence. Silence from friends and family members who I assumed would be there in my greatest moment of need but were surprisingly absent. Finally, my good friend Kevin said it best: “Don’t focus on those who have disappointed you; focus on those who have surprised you by being there.” 

Great advice? Yes. Easy to follow? Not exactly. 

However, I followed Kevin’s advice. I was confident that I could rely on my closest group of friends — the “Balt 8” (named for eight of us who became great friends while living in Baltimore). Later that year, while attending my first party since Tom’s death, I had a horrific anxiety attack, and Kevin asked no questions and instead took me for a long walk in the cold and misty rain. My best friend, Joy, who I have known since college and is like a sister to me, was there day and night. My close friend Maureen sent me TV recommendations to help make me laugh. 

While I knew that the Balt 8 would lift me up, what I remember the most during this time were the people who unexpectedly came to my rescue. 

After Tom died, one of the first people who reached out to me was Renee, a friend from high school who I had not seen in person since our graduation in 1988. Suddenly this long-lost high school classmate became a rock who I would rely on for months to come and who sent care baskets filled with goodies from her home state of Louisiana. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me — on Jan. 6, 2021, when I, along, with most Americans watched in horror as a mob besieged the U.S. Capitol, I was living not too far away. Too shaken by what I had witnessed, I called my supervisor at The Trevor Project to let them know that I would not be able to perform my volunteer shift that night. Anxiously, I waited for my husband to get home safely from work when I saw an incoming call via Facebook Messenger. It was Renee. She just wanted to make sure that my husband and I were safe. 

Other friends came through via simple acts — my friends Tim and Regan in Seattle held a candlelit vigil for my brother whom they had never met, while my friend Steve sends me texts often just to see how I was doing.

While we live in Washington, D.C., we still keep our sailboat in Baltimore where we were lucky enough to land on the marina’s J-Dock and quickly made friends. Self-dubbed “The Island of Misfit Toys,” after the classic Christmas special, somehow, we were all brought together and became friends. During my grief period, everyone on the J-Dock brought something different to the table. Some brought tenderness and love; others brought levity with crude jokes that I was embarrassed to laugh at. Our boat neighbor Carrie asked me each morning how I was doing, and when I was having a tough day, she’d recommend we go to the pool, where we would relax, have a cocktail and laugh nonstop, usually at ourselves. When the bouquet of flowers for Tom’s funeral arrived from the J-Dock, it was obvious that Carrie, a fellow college football fan, had chosen it — the beautiful orange and purple flowers were a testament to my brother’s beloved favorite team, the Clemson Tigers. It was very typical of Carrie — she shows her love in a quiet, reserved way, but it’s still felt strongly.

While I appreciated everyone’s support at the marina, there are two friends that I relied on more than any — Jon and Jill. 

After Tom’s death, I learned that my family has a history of heart disease. I went to my doctor and had every conceivable heart-related test, and thankfully, there was no evidence of heart disease. However, that didn’t completely eliminate my fears. The thoughts kept racing in my head: “Tom was the healthy one, so how can I be OK?One day, I called Jon to ask him if he could stay on the phone with me, as I was having an anxiety attack. With his trademark humor, he quickly said, “You are not having a heart attack, drama queen.” But then he added, “I’ll be right there.” And he was, time and time again. 

Later that summer, I had a similar anxiety attack, and I texted Jill. Luckily, she works from her boat, so she was home, and when I asked if she had a few minutes, instinctively, she knew something was up. Within seconds, I could feel my boat shift, signaling that someone was coming aboard, and there was Jill with her chihuahua, Little Dog, to help calm my nerves. “I don’t know what to do,” Jill admitted. I explained that I didn’t either. “Why don’t we go for a walk and get off our boats?” she suggested. I agreed to walk just around the marina, as I did not feel emotionally strong enough to leave the safety net of the docks. We discussed what anxiety feels like, but we also enjoyed our surroundings and Little Dog’s idiosyncrasies. And I laughed. Thank goodness, I laughed. 

My brother’s death also resulted in a seismic shift in my relationship with his ex-wife, Chris. On the surface, Tom and Chris’s relationship may have seemed unconventional to many — over the course of 30-plus years, they dated, broke up, dated again, married and divorced, but through it all, they remained best friends. They hung out together all the time, ran together several times a week, and, most importantly, they raised their amazing and kind daughter, Jordan. 

When my oldest brother David died by suicide in 1997, Tom was the one who found him. Even though they were not dating at the time, Chris was there for my family, and, most importantly, Tom. Tom was frustratingly closed off emotionally sometimes, and never more so than after David’s death. Chris was the one person who could get him to open up, so thankfully he clung to her.

While Chris and I at times had grown apart since the divorce, Tom’s death thrust us back together. We were no longer simply former in-laws and friends; we were partners in pain. 

Will I survive this? Yes, because I have no other choice. How? I have no idea, but I have to hold onto hope that whenever I am struggling, there will be someone who will unexpectedly fill my heart with love. 

Gregory J. Alexander is a freelance writer and editor who lives in Washington, D.C., with his husband, Paul, and two cats. 

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Happy Thanksgiving to all

Dreaming of a brighter future for America

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(Photo by lilkar/Bigstock)

I hope you have a great Thanksgiving and can enjoy it with family and friends and that you have things you can be thankful for this past year. That you have your health. Now here is the column I would have liked to share with you this Thanksgiving: 

To all my friends and family. This year I am thankful the felon has left the White House. It feels we can all finally breath again. I am so happy his idea of a ballroom at the White House was a joke, and we can once again walk in Jackie Kennedy’s rose garden, and visit the beautiful East Wing. I am thankful the felon’s personal Goebbels, Stephen Miller, lost his job when the reality that he was a fascist was too much to take. It was wonderful to see the Supreme Court wake up and do their job once again. They stopped drinking the MAGA Kool-Aid and voided all the executive orders calling on museums to hide the history of Black Americans, women, and the LGBTQ community. They told the president he didn’t have the right to place tariffs, and that he couldn’t fire legally appointed members of commissions under the rubric of Congress’s control.

Then I am thankful the Congress began to do its job. That so many Republicans grew a set of balls and decided to challenge Speaker Mike ‘sycophant’ Johnson, reminding him they were an independent part of government, and didn’t need to rubber stamp everything the felon wanted. I was thankful to see them extend the SNAP program indefinitely, and the same with the tax credits for the ACA, agreeing to include these important programs in next year’s budget. Then they went further, and paid for the programs, by rescinding all the tax benefits they had given to the wealthy, and corporations, in the felon’s big ugly bill. Finally realizing it is the poor and middle class who they had to help if the country was to move forward. Then I can’t thank them enough for finally passing the Equality Act, and doing it with a veto proof majority, so the felon had to sign it, before he left office. They did the same for the Choice Act, and the Voting Rights Act. It was a glorious year with so much to be thankful for. 

Then I am so thankful Congress finally stood up to the felon and said he couldn’t start wars without their approval, and the Supreme Court ruled they were right. That attacking Venezuela was not something he had the right to do. Then the final thing the court did this year I am thankful for, is they actually modified their ruling on presidential immunity, and said the felon’s grifting was not covered, as under their decision that was private, and not done in his role as president. Again, can’t thank them enough for waking up and doing that. 

Then there is even more I am thankful for this year. It was so nice to see Tesla collapse, and Musk lose his trillion-dollar salary. The people finally woke up to him and insisted Congress mandate the satellite system he built, basically with money from the government, was actually owned by the government, and he could no longer control who can use it. It was determined he alone would not be able to tell Ukraine whether or not they can use it in their war defending against the Russian invasion. Then I am so thankful Congress went even further, and approved the funds needed by the Ukrainians for long-range missiles, and a missile defense system, accepting Ukraine was actually fighting a proxy war for the West, and Ukraine winning that war would help keep our own men and women off the battlefield. 

And speaking of our military, I thank Congress for lifting the ban on transgender persons in the military, and honoring their service, along with the service of women, Black service members, all members of the LGBTQ community, and all minorities. It was fun to see Pete Hegseth being led out of the Pentagon, and being reminded he wasn’t the Secretary of War. There is no Department of War, it is still the Department of Defense, with congressional oversight. Again, so many things to be thankful for this past year. It seemed like my heart runneth over. 

Then my alarm went off and I woke up from my big beautiful dream, only to realize I was still living in the Trumpian nightmare. 


Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.

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Elusive safety: what new global data reveals about gender, violence, and erasure

Movements against gender equality, lack of human rights data contributing factors.

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Activists who participated in a 2024 Pride march in San Salvador, El Salvador, carry a banner that calls for a country where “being a woman is not a danger.” (Photo courtesy of Colectivo Alejandría)

“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.

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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

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(Photo by Cheryl Casey via Bigstock)

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.

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