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
Nearly 6,000 turn out for Pride Night Out at the Nationals
Gay Men’s Chorus sings National Anthem
“Just shy of” 6,000 people purchased tickets for the Wednesday, June 24, 21st annual Pride Night Out at the Washington Nationals baseball stadium, which the Nationals said is the longest running LGBTQ Pride event in Major League Baseball, according to a Nationals spokesperson.
The event was organized with the Nationals by Team D.C., the local LGBTQ sports group that organizes similar Pride Nights for other professional D.C. area sports teams.
“It was a good time had by all as the Nationals celebrated the LGBTQ+ community during the Nationals 21st Pride Night Out, presented by Team D.C.” the Nationals said in a statement.
Nationals spokesperson Erica George said the overall game attendance was 27,200.
Similar to recent past years, the Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington sung the National Anthem at the start of the game, drawing loud cheers from people throughout the stadium.
The Nationals lost the game to the Philadelphia Phillies by a score of 5-4. Although most of the LGBTQ attendees of the event, held in the right-field mezzanine section of the stadium, were cheering for the Nationals, a sizeable number also cheered for the Phillies.
Miguel Ayala, one of Team D.C.’s lead organizers, said he noticed fans displaying Pride flags and recognized LGBTQ people in all parts of the stadium, indicating significantly more LGBTQ people and their supporters attended the game beyond the close to 6,000 or more who purchased the specific Pride Night Out tickets.
“It was a great excitement last night,” he told the Washington Blade on the day following the event. “I saw a lot of big crowds of our people, I saw everybody I can think of in the community. And it was really great to see the turnout.”
Also, like in previous years, Team D.C. along with the Nationals helped to organize a pre-game show on the large concourse platform area next to the stadium seating area involving a drag show led by local drag performer Shi-Queeta Lee.
“During pregame ceremonies, the Nationals Pride employee resource group was recognized on the field,” the statement released by the Nationals says. “Dr. Demetre Daskalakis, a physician and public health leader who has had a profound impact on the LGBTQ+ community and those living with or vulnerable to HIV, threw out the ceremonial first pitch as the guest of Team D.C.,” the statement says.
It adds that Team D.C.’s scholarship recipient Spencer Doll made the ceremonial call to “Play Ball.”
As if all that were not enough, a Nationals employee who entertains during the Nationals pre-game shows on the field dressed as a giant eagle named “Screech” wearing an eagle’s head mask appeared in the seating area where the Pride Night Out crowd was seated and mingled with the LGBTQ fans, many of whom posed for photos with Screech.
District of Columbia
Washington Blade names new publisher
Longtime ad exec Brian Pitts to assume role from Lynne Brown
The Washington Blade announced this week that its longtime publisher, Lynne Brown, who has worked at the publication for nearly 40 years, is retiring from her day-to-day duties.
Blade co-owner and longtime advertising executive Brian Pitts will assume the role of publisher effective June 26.
Pitts, 46, is a native of Fredericksburg, Va. In 2004, he moved to Washington, D.C., from Rehoboth Beach, Del., to work at the Blade as a 24-year-old sales executive. Pitts, along with Brown and Blade Editor Kevin Naff have owned the Blade since 2009. Pitts has served as the Blade’s lead sales executive since then.
“We’ve been through a lot over the last 17 years, including a recession and a pandemic,” said Pitts. “Lynne has been a steady hand throughout and I’m excited to take the reins and help steer the Blade into its next chapter.”
Brown will assume the title of publisher emerita and remain a part owner of the Washington Blade and Los Angeles Blade and contribute to the business via special projects.
As for what’s next, she said, “I will take the summer to regroup. I have one more LGBTQ community project in mind, and a few personal goals to check off the list. I am a Washingtonian. I will continue to live, work, and love here in D.C. Of course every Friday morning, I will grab a cup of coffee and read the Blade.”
Asked what advice she has for Pitts as he takes over the publisher’s job, Brown replied, “Brian is going to be great. He has all the skills needed to run this business. He also has a deep, silent passion for the Blade. My only advice: Slow and steady wins the race.”
Pitts said his primary goal as publisher is to ensure the Blade continues its mission as America’s LGBTQ news source.
“Another goal is to reach a younger audience and to include an educational component,” he added. “Some younger community members may be newer to the Blade and less familiar with LGBTQ history. Recently, we published a special commemorative magazine to coincide with America 250, chronicling LGBTQ history and contributions to U.S. culture. It’s so important not to let our history get erased and to remember where we came from and to work toward where we want to go.”
He described the biggest challenge to queer media as the Trump administration’s attacks on DEI.
“We have companies that have advertised with us for years who are now afraid of the potential consequences,” he said.
Brown joined the Blade in 1987. She was named publisher in 2007 by previous owner Window Media. In 2009, Window Media filed for bankruptcy; shortly after, Brown, Naff, and Pitts acquired the Blade’s assets from the bankruptcy court and relaunched the brand with Brown as publisher.
She said the period after the bankruptcy became her biggest challenge as publisher.
“The crisis that birthed Brown Naff Pitts Omnimedia kept me overly focused on millions of details,” she recalls. “My greatest personal challenge was delegating and letting go of details. Trusting staff with their strengths and skills to do their jobs was slow to come. It has proved to be most rewarding. Building the right team — knowing the people you work with are committed, professional, and honest — is a great thing.”
Pitts described the bankruptcy and rebirth of the Blade in 2009 as his proudest moment with the company.
“Working at the paper has been great, but becoming a co-owner was a dream come true,” he said.
Naff praised both of his colleagues.
“Lynne has been a rock, helping us navigate financial crises and a pandemic. The Blade wouldn’t have survived without her dedication,” he said. “She is the publisher every editor would want. Brian has terrific instincts, a passion for the Blade’s important mission, and an eye on growth. I am proud to call both of them friends and mentors and look forward to the next chapter.”
Asked why LGBTQ media are still relevant, Brown cited the recent erosion of queer rights as evidence that the Blade’s work remains important.
“The Blade helps fight invisibility and isolation,” she said. “We may have rights today, but we have seen rights eroded or erased. The Blade reports on those rights authentically and accurately and serves as a communication tool and a historian for the community.”
Pitts added, “While mainstream media may cover LGBTQ+ issues, no one covers them quite like us. These are our community’s stories and voices and this is your news source.”
The Blade will host a happy hour event later this summer where the community can meet Pitts and thank Brown for her decades of service.
District of Columbia
New report says LGBTQ young adults in D.C. facing affordability crisis
79 percent of respondents reported difficulty paying rent or mortgage
A newly released report on the findings of a survey of 304 LGBTQ young people aged 18-30 who live in D.C. shows as many as 79 percent of those surveyed report they are struggling to pay rent or a mortgage.
The report, entitled Out and Counted: 2026 LGBTQ+ Young People Community Survey Findings, also shows at least 80 percent of those surveyed “feel isolated often or some of the time” and their reported use of tobacco-nicotine products, alcohol, and marijuana was “significantly higher” than that of the general adult population.
“Nearly one third of respondents have considered leaving the District, driven by housing insecurity,” the report says.
The survey and report were prepared jointly by the D.C.-based Wanda Alston Foundation, which provides housing and other support services for at-risk and homeless LGBTQ youth, and the Los Angeles-based Loyola Marymount University’s LGBTQ+ Politics Research Initiative.
The report says the LGBTQ young people completed the detailed survey in March and April of 2026 “thanks to multiple outreach strategies, including paid digital ads, in-person outreach, and other communication channels.”
Cesar Toledo, executive director of the Wanda Alston Foundation, said the survey included as many as 80 questions and a number of local LGBTQ organizations helped in arranging for the young people to take the survey.
“These findings suggest the District’s LGBTQ+ young people are being pushed to the brink,” Toledo said in a statement released by the Alston Foundation. “They are working hard, yet hitting an affordability cliff, deepened by a loneliness paradox and alarming health-risk behaviors,” he said.
He added, “To ignore these findings is to accept a ‘Queer Flight’ that will displace our LGBTQ+ community and drain the very lavender economic engine that Wells Fargo once famously noted as a secret sauce to economic growth.”
Gabriel Magni, associate professor of political science and Director of the LGBTQ+ Politics Research Initiative at Loyola Marymount University, said in the statement that the survey finding indicate that LGBTQ young people can be priced out of “traditional LGBTQ+ hubs” that have historically been important in advancing LGBTQ equality.
“These findings raise serious concerns regarding affordability and the mental health of LGBTQ+ youth in a city that has long welcomed the LGBTQ+ community,” he said in the statement.
The report says about 41 percent of the survey respondents identified as gay, 17 percent as lesbian, 16 percent as bisexual, 14 percent as queer, 8 percent as pansexual, 1 percent as asexual, and 1 percent as demisexual.
The full report can be accessed here.
Iran, Egypt play in World Cup ‘Pride Match’
PHOTOS: Frederick Pride Parade
Carla Hall goes from ‘Top Chef’ to the stage
‘Culture eats strategy for breakfast’
D.C. has a chance to lead on equitable transit through AVs
LGBTQ political candidates see surge in threats, harassment: report
Queer candidates, allies win Md. primary races
Trump holds housing bill hostage to anti-trans SAVE Act
Judge blocks DOJ from obtaining transgender patients’ medical records
Religion, spirituality, and humanity: finding meaning in a complex world
-
2026 Midterm Elections5 days agoLGBTQ political candidates see surge in threats, harassment: report
-
Maryland5 days ago
Queer candidates, allies win Md. primary races
-
Federal Government5 days ago
Trump holds housing bill hostage to anti-trans SAVE Act
-
New York5 days ago
Judge blocks DOJ from obtaining transgender patients’ medical records
