Commentary
The future for LGBTIQ people in Uganda: Can we get there from here?
Country’s president has returned Anti-Homosexuality Act to Parliament
At present, LGBTIQ people in Uganda live with fear and trepidation, and rightfully so. They are under constant threat of violence being done to them by other Ugandans. Many who have been outed have been forced to leave where they were residing. Lacking the appropriate travel documents, they can’t go to other African countries, which would be far safer for them. So many come to Kampala, lacking food and shelter and any means of sustainable support. For them to survive under these circumstances presents a variety of very serious challenges.
While homophobia is widespread in Uganda now, its origin is neither Ugandan nor African. It is a consequence of colonialism, a British import if you will. Uganda became an independent country 50 years ago, yet the consequences of colonialism remain, particularly in the spiritual realm. Uganda is a very religious country in that many Ugandans regularly attend church and faith leaders hold important positions of authority in their communities. Some of the churches openly preach homophobia. This is how it spreads. More recently, homophobia in Uganda has been pushed hard by American Evangelical Christians, particularly Scott Lively, as explained in the documentary “God Loves Uganda”.
The current furor is due first, to the anticipation and then second, to the actual passage of the Anti-Homosexuality Bill of 2023 by the Ugandan Parliament. Many Ugandans don’t realize that a bill is not the same as a law. To make a bill into a law it is necessary for President Museveni to sign it. With the present bill, that has not yet happened, and maybe it never will. Recently, the bill was returned to Parliament for strengthening. The danger to LGBTIQ people in Uganda persists nevertheless because ordinary Ugandans are apt to take matters into their own hands.
It is also instructive to consider the recent history of similar legislation in Uganda. In December 2013, Parliament passed a bill quite similar to the current one. In February 2014, President Museveni signed the bill into law. Both in the interim between the bill passage and the President’s signing of it and afterwards as well, there was considerable international pressure applied to undo this law. The politics of this is interesting because, on the one hand, no African country wants to be seen as the puppet of Western powers, while on the other hand, there is considerable economic dependence on these same powers. In August 2014, the Constitutional Court of Uganda annulled the law, ruling that it had been passed without a sufficient quorum. Then in 2019 another effort was made in Parliament to pass the popularly named “Kill The Gays” bill. It was eventually passed by Parliament in May 2021, but then was vetoed by President Museveni in August 2021.
However, it is not just legislative politics that matters regarding the cause of the current situation. Consider the chilling effect generated by Maj. Gen. Francis Takirwa’s public request that health workers in Uganda not treat homosexuals. Most LGBTIQ people in Uganda already viewed health centers as off limits to them, as those were places where they’d face existential threats. Yet HIV is a severe problem in Uganda and those health centers are the way the Ugandan government intends to address the problem. Apparently, it doesn’t address the problem within the gay community in Uganda.
Now let me turn to the organization that I represent, Universal Love Alliance. In fulfilling its mission, ULA provides assistance to the marginalized in Ugandan society. We have given a broad sweep to who counts as marginalized. It includes orphaned children whose parents died from HIV. It includes women with HIV who have lost their husbands and then rely on each other to sustain themselves economically. It includes women battered by their husbands, and the husbands too if they show remorse after the fact. And it includes LGBTIQ people. In more recent time, given the turn of events, ULA has had to refocus its energy. Now our attention is fully on the plight of LGBTIQ people in Uganda.
Their needs are many and varied. When they arrive in Kampala, they need food and shelter, at least on a temporary basis. They may then need a plan for relocation, within Uganda, and some education on how to not be outed in their new location. A good fraction of them has HIV or are fearful that they have it. They need counseling, education and treatment. Alas, some of the counseling is to encourage their mental stability. Many report being suicidal.
These health needs can be provided by health professionals who follow their professional obligations and aren’t swayed by the machinations of Maj. Gen. Francis Takirwa. The other needs can be provided either by ULA or by others in the network of friends that ULA has cultivated around Uganda. Indeed, given that relocation is a big part of the picture, it is efficient for the solution to be distributed in a way that reflects where these people will ultimately reside and not merely be a consequence of their first stop on the journey.
Alas, all of this requires money to implement. At present, most of this money is not in Uganda; rather it is distributed abroad. At issue is whether those funds will find their way to Uganda in the very near future.
Let me close with the following. What I have learned during the extraordinary times that I have been in charge at ULA is that we need to rely on each other. We can’t do it all alone. The title of this piece is about the future of LGBTIQ people in Uganda. That future depends on you. We can’t get from here to there without you. I hope you understand that and agree to help us.
Turinawe Samson is the executive director of Universal Love Alliance. ULA Facebook Page, ULA Foundation Facebook Page
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.
-
District of Columbia3 days agoBowser announces she will not seek fourth term as mayor
-
U.S. Military/Pentagon4 days agoPentagon moves to break with Boy Scouts over LGBTQ and gender inclusion
-
Drag4 days agoPattie Gonia calls out Hegseth’s anti-LGBTQ policies — while doing better pull-ups
-
District of Columbia5 days agoSecond gay candidate announces run for Ward 1 D.C. Council seat
