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
Over 2,000 turn out for Hands Around the Kennedy Center protest
Drag performer Tara Hoot serves as MC, Gay Men’s Chorus of DC performs, attendees shout for Trump to keep ‘hands off’ Kennedy Center
More than 2,000 supporters of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts turned out on Sept. 18, for a rally in support of the performing arts center and a vocal protest against President Donald Trump’s threats to permanently close the center and possibly demolish it.
The event was organized by a group called Hands Off the Arts, which initially called for participants to form a “human chain” around the Kennedy Center’s main building following a rally on the plaza in front of the building.
However, due to a decision by the Trump-controlled Kennedy Center’s board of trustees to close the center earlier in the week and install fencing around part of the building, participants could only form the chain around part of the building, according to organizers.
Drag performer Tara Hoot, who co-organized the event and served as master of ceremonies for the rally preceding the “human chain,” said the large turnout could have fully surrounded the building at least twice had the fencing not prevented a full encirclement.
Among the musicians and singing groups that performed at the rally was the Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington, which, like other rally performers, had performed at the Kennedy Center in past years. They drew loud applause after singing one of their favorite songs from the Broadway musical show Ragtime, which includes the lyrics, “Will justice be demanded by 10 million men? Make them hear you. When they hear you, I’ll be near you again.”
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Prior to their performance, Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington’s artistic director, Thea Kano, spoke at the rally, reminding participants that shortly after the Trump takeover of the center last year, Kennedy Center officials cancelled a concert the chorus was scheduled to perform there for World Pride 2025.
A Kennedy Center spokesperson said the cancellation was due to a scheduling conflict, but chorus members and LGBTQ activists believe it resulted from policies put in place by Trump and his leadership team at the Kennedy Center following Trump’s statements that he would end controversial “woke” performances that he claimed the majority of Americans disapprove of.
“Now this building sits empty in silence,” Kano told the crowd at the rally. “Let us raise our voices together and bring back the Kennedy Center as it was intended, a place where American culture could be celebrated and elevated, embracing the vibrancy with the spectrum of identify without censure and without politics,” she said.
Among the others who spoke at the rally were U.S. Rep. Don Beyer (D-Va.), U.S. Rep. Jonathan Jackson (D-Ill.), and D.C. Councilmember Robert White (D-At-Large).
Most speakers, along with LGBTQ participants in the hands-around-the-building event expressed strong opposition to Trump’s demand that the Kennedy Center name be changed from the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts to the Donald J. Trump and the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.
At Trump’s request, his appointed board initially made that name change and placed Trump’s name on the front wall of the building along with the Kennedy name. But following legal action taken by opponents who pointed out that Congress must approve such a name change, a judge ordered the removal of Trump’s name from the building. Trump has said he will take steps to reverse that order and has said he will stop plans to renovate the Kennedy Center building and possibly demolish it if his name is not restored in the Kennedy’s Center’s official name.
Throughout the Sept. 18 rally, LGBTQ participants repeatedly responded to the Trump threats by shouting, “Hands Off!”
Chris Raleigh, one of the founders of Hands Off the Arts and a lead organizer of the Sept. 18 event at the Kennedy Center who spoke at the event told the Washington Blade that more similar events are being planned and he welcomes the support the event has received from the LGBTQ community.
“The LGBTQ community was here first, and we’re following them,” he said. “They’ve been the spearhead; they’ve been the vanguard. And I’m so thankful for heroes like Tara Hoot,” he said, adding, “It’s because they know what it means and how this is a safe place – the theater – for many LGBTQ people.”
The DMV’s own furry group was on full display on the Metro on Sept. 12.
Shutterpaws is a volunteer-led 501(c)(3) non-profit organization located in Maryland.
The furry group has been doing the FurRide event since 2024 and has blown up in popularity for furries around DMV. They showcased themselves on the Silver and Blue Lines near the Smithsonian on Sept. 12.
“A lot of careful planning goes into running these events, with the goal being a seamless and enjoyable experience for everyone who attends,” says Zayre, a Shutterpaws staff member. “There’s a lot that you learn just by trial and error, and as Shutterpaws hosts more and more events, our team of event organizers continues to learn and refine our approach to keep things running smoothly and finding new ways to engage with our community.”
With a larger growth of participation in the community comes many challenges with the group, especially when it comes to the Metro rides and organizing.
“The biggest challenge that we face as organizers is keeping things fresh and finding new and engaging venues to host events,” says Zayre. “Recently we saw a lot of success hosting a meet at On Target Battlezone, an indoor NERF gun battle arena where our crew was welcome to show up and play both with and without a fur suit.”
Nevertheless, Shutterpaws receive overwhelming support from the community and partners.
“Across the DMV there are so many amazing places to host a Shutterpaws event so we can pursue our mission of helping connect fur suiters and photographers, and we’re blown away with the amount of support we’ve received from our community partners,” says Zayre.
Shutterpaws plans to do more events for anyone in the DMV who is interested.
Their next event in collaboration with DC Fur Meet will take place at Pitchers (2317 18th St., N.W.) on Saturday. Visit Shutterpaws’ website for more information.
District of Columbia
Hands Off the Arts to form ‘human chain’ around Kennedy Center
Drag performer Tara Hoot among event organizers
An organization called Hands Off the Arts has announced it is holding a protest on Friday, Sept. 18, in which between 400 and 800 participants are expected to create a “human chain” around the Kennedy Center to voice their strong objection to President Donald Trump’s call for possibly demolishing the Kennedy Center.
“Hands Off the Arts is organizing a rally Sept. 18 against the president’s defacing of JFK’s memorial, his removal and censorship of art, and the threat to demolish the center if he can’t remake the site in his image,” a statement released by the group says.
The statement says the event will start with a rally at 6:30 p.m. on the Kennedy Center steps and culminate with a “human chain” around the building. “There will be musical performances, testimonials from current and former employees, along with other special guest speakers,” it says
A separate announcement by the group says longtime D.C. drag performer Tara Hoot, who has performed at the Kennedy Center in past years, was among the organizers of the Sept. 18 protest.
The planned protest follows Trump’s decision last year to use his authority to replace the existing members of the Kennedy Center’s board of directors with new members loyal to him. Over the objection of longtime Kennedy Center supporters, the Trump-appointed board changed the name of the center, at Trump’s request, from the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts to the Donald J. Trump and the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.
But following the threat of legal action by opponents who pointed out that the name change could not be legally made unless approved by Congress, the name change was cancelled, with Trump saying he would take steps to restore it later.
The Washington Post, meanwhile, reports in a Sept. 13 news story that because of negative publicity related to Trump’s actions, the Kennedy Center was facing “fiscal collapse” and possible bankruptcy and could be forced to shut down as early as this week.
According to the Post report, a 57-page document presented to the Kennedy Center’s board of trustees says the center was facing a financial and structural building crisis, with the recent collapse of part of the building’s inside ceiling, indicating the building was unsafe for employees and the public. Among other things, the document says the Kennedy Center may not be able to make payroll or pay for routine maintenance “within a matter of weeks,” the Post reports.
Some LGBTQ advocates were among those who joined others in boycotting the Kennedy Center to express their objections to Trump’s actions, including a statement by Trump that he objected to the Kennedy Center’s practice of hosting drag performances.
The Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington has been among the LGBTQ performing arts groups and artists that have performed at the Kennedy Center.
“With the future still very much uncertain, now more than ever, the Center needs you to stand up for freedom of expression and against authoritarian overreach into arts and culture institutions,” the Hands Off the Arts group says in its announcement of the Hands Around the Kennedy Center protest.
“You have the opportunity to make a difference — show up with Hands Off the Arts and show your power as part of Hands Around the Kennedy Center,” it says.
A spokesperson for the Kennedy Center couldn’t immediately be reached for comment.
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