District of Columbia
Recovery at the Triangle Club
Coming together as a group to fight a common addiction
On Sunday, between the Dupont Italian Kitchen, where the tables are filled with the boozy brunches of the kickball gays, and Mikko, where a young couple is celebrating their anniversary with some Champagne, the door to a row-house opens, and all at once, a crowd pours forth onto the stairs. Only the stairs keep on filling. These folks aren’t leaving. They’ve only left the building to come to the stairs, just to chat. It’s as though 100 people all decided to go for a smoke out front, all at the same time. But if you ask them why they’re there, you’ll get only the vaguest of answers. “We’re just coming from a meeting,” one will say. “It’s a clubhouse,” says another.
There are good reasons for this vagueness. The Triangle Club is a center for queer folk to attend recovery meetings: Overeaters Anonymous, Alcoholics Anonymous, Crystal Meth Anonymous, Sexual Compulsives Anonymous. It’s part of the very mission of these groups to protect the privacy of their members. But these groups also want those in the queer community who need the support to know that they’re there. And so the folks at the Triangle Club were kind enough to welcome the Blade into their space for a few meetings, to see how things worked and shed some light on what they’re all about.
The Club had its kickoff meeting in 1988, during the AIDS crisis. Churches weren’t particularly enthusiastic about hosting gay recovery meetings in their back rooms. And so the Club sought to provide a safe place for those meetings to take place. At the time of the club’s founding, it was estimated that gays and lesbians were twice as likely to report problems with alcohol abuse than heterosexuals. One would hope that things might have changed in the intervening years. But according to a government report released this summer, that figure has barely improved. (The government report did not collect any statistics on transgender people.)
Of course there is no single reason queer people develop problems with drugs and alcohol. But one in particular struck me, especially as a reason I heard coming from a lot of the younger folk at the Triangle Club. “I thought meth was a prerequisite for going out,” said one. “I thought that’s what you did.” Another said, “I drank to find community. And then I drank to numb myself when I didn’t find it in the gay community.” Again and again, I heard stories about turning to drugs and alcohol as a way of finding connection, and as a way of coping with the failure to find connection.
And so while I heard a lot of gratitude for the role the meetings at the Triangle Club played in people’s recovery, I also heard a lot of gratitude for the community of the Triangle Club itself. It wasn’t just that the Club helped people turn away from an unhealthy way of solving their problems. It’s that it gave them what they were really looking for in the first place: a community they could call their own.
Improbably, as I left a meeting of Crystal Meth Anonymous, I found myself wishing to be an addict in recovery. To have a place to share things that would go unsaid among friends and family, let alone therapists. To take part, week after week, in one another’s mission for a more fulfilling life. To be present for the absolute raucousness, as when one gentleman described living on meth as “wearing a fur coat into a swimming pool,” and then “turning the wave-machine on.” To hear the applause that only someone four days sober could receive. But what kind of destructive, life-threatening wish was I making? I couldn’t possibly be serious.
Many of us in the queer community are exhausted by drinking, if not drugging, our way into it. That exhaustion might not rise to the level of addiction, but this has the perverse consequence of not driving us to seek alternative forms of belonging. One of the men I interviewed kept talking of the “sober community,” and my ears perked up. Perhaps there was a broader community of folks, of which those in recovery were only a part, that wasn’t centered around substance use.
“The sober community absolutely extends beyond the Triangle Club,” he told me. “There are a bunch of other gay meetings that go on.” This wasn’t exactly what I hoped to hear. What a sorry state we’re in, I couldn’t help but feel that to be part of the sober community was to be in recovery. As though the community of substance use were so mandatory that it had to drive you to your own personal edge in order for you to find community in sobriety.
The Triangle Club should not be overly romanticized, and they’d be the first to tell you. People talked of trying to find fellowship at the club in the past, and not necessarily succeeding. Being one of two Black people in the room, only for the other to drop out of the program. Or of the demands of service, dragging yourself out late Friday night to chair a meeting, or sponsoring someone for the first time and being scared that you aren’t the right one to advise them. But I think it’s a testament to the space that these things could be said in the space. The meetings aren’t a place of mandatory optimism, but honest experience. And what good is a meeting for sharing honest experience if you can’t share your negative experiences too?
I had hoped, as part of this feature, to attend a meeting of Sexual Compulsives Anonymous. The two meetings I appealed to were kind enough to hold a vote on whether they would open their doors—but in the end they opted to remain private. One gentleman from the meetings volunteered to share a little of what these meetings were all about. Recovery meetings in general depend on coming together as a group to fight a common addiction. But “S” meetings, as the gentleman described them, can’t take “coming together” lightly, nor a “common addiction” lightly.
To begin with, sexual addiction is not as straightforwardly defined as addiction to drugs or alcohol. What sobriety is for one person is not what sobriety is for another. One person might be trying to curtail a masturbation habit. But for others? “That simply isn’t an option,” the gentleman said. And unlike recovery meetings for substances, which can ban substances from the room, the same can’t as easily be said for “S” meetings. We’re sexual beings, and so inevitably, to bring yourself into a room is to bring sexuality along with it. The recovery meetings at the Triangle Club usually end with the group joining hands to say the serenity prayer. But this can’t be a given at “S” meetings, where joining hands might be violating someone’s boundary.
With the pandemic waning, most recovery meetings have slowly started to transition away from video format back to in-person. But “S” meetings have been more reluctant to do so, and most have stuck with a hybrid format. One veteran of Al-Anon voiced his relief at coming back to the rooms. “You can’t hug a square!” I suspect that’s the very reason “S” meetings have been slow to return.
Part of my disappointment in not attending the “S” meetings was how central they seemed to be to a queer recovery organization. Substance abuse might disproportionately affect the queer community, but it is the addicts who are queer, not the addictions. If the addiction is to love or sex, however, the addiction itself is inextricably queer. Aren’t the “S” meetings the heart, in a sense, of the Triangle Club? But a conversation with a gentleman from Alcoholics Anonymous had me rethinking this. “[Accepting you’re an alcoholic,] it’s similar to coming out as gay,” he said. “There are people out there who view it as a moral failing, but it’s just part of who I am.”
The experience of coming out is so central to being queer. How could coming out as an addict have nothing whatsoever to do with it? The same story of a newfound, authentic life was as common to the folks at the Triangle Club as it would be to anyone who comes out as queer.
(CJ Higgins is a postdoctoral fellow with the Alexander Grass Humanities Institute at Johns Hopkins University.)
District of Columbia
D.C. pays $500,000 to settle lawsuit brought by gay Corrections Dept. employee
Alleged years of verbal harassment, slurs, intimidation
The D.C. government on Feb. 5 agreed to pay $500,000 to a gay D.C. Department of Corrections officer as a settlement to a lawsuit the officer filed in 2021 alleging he was subjected to years of discrimination at his job because of his sexual orientation, according to a statement released by the American Civil Liberties Union of D.C.
The statement says the lawsuit, filed on behalf of Sgt. Deon Jones by the ACLU of D.C. and the law firm WilmerHale, alleged that the Department of Corrections, including supervisors and co-workers, “subjected Sgt. Jones to discrimination, retaliation, and a hostile work environment because of his identity as a gay man, in violation of the D.C. Human Rights Act.”
Daniel Gleick, a spokesperson for D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser, said the mayor’s office would have no comment on the lawsuit settlement. The Washington Blade couldn’t immediately reach a spokesperson for the Office of the D.C. Attorney General, which represents the city against lawsuits.
Bowser and her high-level D.C. government appointees, including Japer Bowles, director of the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs, have spoken out against LGBTQ-related discrimination.
“Jones, now a 28-year veteran of the Department and nearing retirement, faced years of verbal abuse and harassment from coworkers and incarcerated people alike, including anti-gay slurs, threats, and degrading treatment,” the ACLU’s statement says.
“The prolonged mistreatment took a severe toll on Jones’s mental health, and he experienced depression, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and 15 anxiety attacks in 2021 alone,” it says.
“For years, I showed up to do my job with professionalism and pride, only to be targeted because of who I am,” Jones says in the ACLU statement. “This settlement affirms that my pain mattered – and that creating hostile workplaces has real consequences,” he said.
He added, “For anyone who is LGBTQ or living with a disability and facing workplace discrimination or retaliation, know this: you are not powerless. You have rights. And when you stand up, you can achieve justice.”
The settlement agreement, a link to which the ACLU provided in its statement announcing the settlement, states that plaintiff Jones agrees, among other things, that “neither the Parties’ agreement, nor the District’s offer to settle the case, shall in any way be construed as an admission by the District that it or any of its current or former employees, acted wrongfully with respect to Plaintiff or any other person, or that Plaintiff has any rights.”
Scott Michelman, the D.C. ACLU’s legal director said that type of disclaimer is typical for parties that agree to settle a lawsuit like this.
“But actions speak louder than words,” he told the Blade. “The fact that they are paying our client a half million dollars for the pervasive and really brutal harassment that he suffered on the basis of his identity for years is much more telling than their disclaimer itself,” he said.
The settlement agreement also says Jones would be required, as a condition for accepting the agreement, to resign permanently from his job at the Department of Corrections. Michelman said Jones has been on leave from work for a period of time, but he did not know how long. Jones couldn’t immediately be reached for comment.
“This is really something that makes sense on both sides,” Michelman said of the resignation requirements. “The environment had become so toxic the way he had been treated on multiple levels made it difficult to see how he could return to work there.”
District of Columbia
D.C. non-profits find creative ways to aid the unhoused amid funding cuts
City’s poor economic mobility makes it easier to slip into homelessness
Homelessness is unlikely to disappear entirely, but it can be minimized and controlled.
That principle guides Everyone Home Executive Director Karen Cunningham’s approach to homeless support and prevention in D.C.
“There’s always going to be some amount of people who have a crisis,” Cunningham said. “The goal is that if they become homeless, [it’s] rare, brief and non-recurring. And in order for that to be the case, we need to have steady investments in programs that we know work over time.”
Making those investments has proven to be an unprecedented challenge, however. Cunningham said non-profits and other organizations like Everyone Home are grappling with government funding cuts or stalls that threaten the work they do to support D.C.’s homeless population.
Despite a 9% decrease in homelessness from 2024 to 2025, advocates worry that stagnant funding will make that progress hard to sustain. Furthermore, D.C. has the worst unemployment rate in the country at 6.7% as of December. The city’s poor economic mobility makes it easier for people to slip into homelessness and harder to break free of it.
There’s a way forward, Cunningham said, but it’s going to take a lot of perseverance and creative solutions from those willing to stay in the fight.
Fighting through setbacks
Reduced funding from the city government has shifted the way Everyone Home operates.
In D.C.’s fiscal year 2026 budget proposal, homeless services and prevention programs saw stalled growth or financial reductions. Even just a few years ago, Cunningham said Everyone Home received a large influx of vouchers to help people who needed long-term supportive housing. The vouchers allowed the non-profit to break people free of the homeless cycle and secure stable housing.
However, those vouchers are scarce these days. Cunningham said the city is investing less in multi-year programs and more in programs that offer preventative and upfront support.
She said this reality has forced Everyone Home to stop operating its Family Rapid Rehab program, which helps families leave shelters and transition into permanent housing. Current funds couldn’t withstand the size of the program and Cunningham said very few organizations can still afford to run similar programs.
The Family Homelessness Prevention program, however, is thriving and expanding at Everyone Home due to its short-term nature. It provides families with 90-day support services to help them get back on track and secure stable finances and housing.
Everyone Home also offers a drop-in day center, where they provide people with emergency clothing, laundry, and meals, and has a street outreach team to support those who are chronically homeless and offer services to them.
Inconsistencies in financial support have created challenges in providing the necessary resources to those struggling. It’s led non-profits like Everyone Home to get creative with their solutions to ensuring no one has recurring or long spouts of homelessness.
“It’s really a sustained investment in these programs and services that can allow us to chip away, because if you put all these resources in and then take your foot off the gas, there’s always people entering the system,” Cunningham said. “And so we have to always be moving people out into housing.”
Getting people in and out of the homeless system isn’t easy due to D.C.’s struggle with providing accessible and affordable housing, D.C. Policy Center executive director Yesim Sayin said in a Nov. 16 Washington Blade article.
Sayin said that D.C.’s construction tailors to middle or upper class people who live in the city because work brought them there, but it excludes families and D.C. natives who may be on the verge of homelessness and have less geographic mobility.
Building more and building smarter ensures D.C.’s low-income population aren’t left behind and at risk of becoming homeless, Sayin said.
That risk is a common one in D.C. given its low economic mobility. Residents have less room to financially grow given the city’s high cost of living, making vulnerable communities more prone to homelessness.
With funding cuts for long-term programs, preventative programs have proven to be vital in supporting the homeless population. When someone becomes homeless, it can have a snowball effect on their life. They aren’t just losing a house –– they may lose their job, access to reliable transportation and food for their family.
Cunningham said resources like the Family Homelessness Prevention program allows people to grow and stabilize before losing crucial life resources.
“Helping people keep what they have and to try to grow that as much as possible is really important where there aren’t a lot of opportunities…for people to increase their income,” Cunningham said.
Through all the funding cuts and reduced services, D.C.’s homeless support organizations are still finding a path forward –– a path that many residents and families rely on to survive.
Pushing forward
Local non-profits and organizations like Everyone Home are the backbone of homeless support when all other systems fail.
When the White House issued an executive order directing agencies to remove homeless encampments on federal land, Coalition For The Homeless provided ongoing shelter to those impacted.
“We were asked by our funders to open two shelters at the time of the encampment policy announcement,” Lucho Vásquez, executive director of Coalition For The Homeless, said. “We opened the shelters on the same day of the request and have been housing 100 more people who are unhoused each night since August.”
This was achieved even after Coalition faced “severe cuts in funding for supportive and security services,” according to Vásquez. Staff members have taken on additional responsibilities to make up for the loss in security coverage and supportive services with no increase in pay, but Vásquez said they’re still trying to fill gaps left by the cuts.
Coalition offers free transitional housing, single room occupancy units and affordable apartments to people who were unhoused.
Coalition For The Homeless isn’t the only non-profit that’s had to step up its services amid dwindling resources. Thrive D.C. provides hot meals, showers, and winter clothes, which is especially important during the winter months.
Pathways to Housing D.C. offers housing services for people regardless of their situation or condition. Its “Housing First” teams house people directly from the streets, and then evaluate their mental and physical health, employment, addiction status, and education challenges to try to integrate them back into the community.
Covenant House is a homeless shelter for youth ages 18-24. They provide resources and shelter for youth “while empowering young people in their journey to independence and stability,” its website reads. Through its variety of programs, Friendship Place ended or prevented homelessness, found employment and provided life-changing services for more than 5,400 people.
These groups have made a huge local difference with little resources, but Cunningham said there are more ways for people to support those experiencing homelessness if they’re strapped for time or money. Aside from donating and volunteering, she said even simply showing compassion toward people who are struggling can go a long way.
Cunningham said compassion is something that’s been lost in the mainstream, with politicians and news anchors regularly directing hostile rhetoric toward homeless populations. But now more than ever, she said caring and understanding for fellow community members is key to moving forward and lifting those in need up.
“People sometimes feel invisible or that there’s a sense of hostility,” Cunningham said. “I think all of us can at least do that piece of recognizing people’s humanity.”
(This article is part of a national initiative exploring how geography, policy, and local conditions influence access to opportunity. Find more stories at economicopportunitylab.com.)
District of Columbia
D.C. bar Rush facing eviction on charge of failing to pay rent
Landlord says $201,324 owed in back payments, late fees
The owners of the building at 14th and U Streets, N.W. where D.C.’s newest LGBTQ bar and nightclub Rush opened on Dec. 5, 2025, filed a complaint in D.C. Superior Court on Feb. 3 seeking Rush’s eviction on grounds that the bar has failed to pay its required rent since last May.
According to the court filing by building owners Thomas and Ioanna Tsianakas Family Trust and Thomas Tsianakas Trustee, Rush owes $141,338.18 in back rent, $19,086.19 for utilities, and $40,900 in late fees, coming to a total of $201,324.37.
Rush owner Jackson Mosley didn’t immediately respond to a Feb. 5 phone message from the Washington Blade seeking comment on the court filing seeking his eviction from the building located at 200114th Street, N.W., with its entrance around the corner on U Street.
WUSA 9 TV news reported in a Feb. 5 broadcast that Mosley said he “doesn’t see why the eviction notice is news and called it a ‘formality.’” The WUSA report adds that Mosley said he and the Rush landlord “have no bad blood” and if the action did reach the point of eviction he would file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy to restructure the lease and his debts.
The eviction court filing follows a decision by the city’s Alcoholic Beverage and Cannabis Board on Dec. 17 to suspend Rush’s liquor license on grounds that its payment check for the liquor licensing fee was “returned unpaid.” The liquor board reissued the license three days later after Mosley paid the fee with another check
He told the Blade at the time that the first check did not “bounce,” as rumors in the community claimed. He said he made a decision to put a “hold” on the check so that Rush could change its initial decision to submit a payment for the license for three years and instead to arrange for a lower payment for just one year at a time.
Around that same time several Rush employees posted social media messages saying the staff was not paid for the bar’s first month’s pay period. Mosley responded by posting a message on the Rush website saying employees were not paid because of a “tax related mismatch between federal and District records,” which, among other things, involved the IRS.
“This discrepancy triggered a compliance hold within our payroll system,” his statement said. “The moment I became aware of the issue I immediately engaged our payroll provider and began working to resolve it,” he said.
But WUSA 9 reports in its Feb. 5 broadcast about the eviction issue that at least some of the now former employees say they still have not been paid since their first paycheck failed to come on Dec. 15.
Superior Court online records for the eviction case show that a “Remote Initial Hearing” for the case has been scheduled for March 30 before a Landlord & Tenant Judge.
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