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
Judge rescinds stay-away order in Capital Pride anti-stalking case
Evidence hearing to determine if order should be reinstated against Darren Pasha
A D.C. Superior Court judge on April 17 rescinded an anti-stalking order he approved in February at the request of Capital Pride Alliance against local LGBTQ activist Darren Pasha.
In a ruling at a court status hearing, Judge Robert D. Okum agreed with defendant Darren Pasha’s stated concern that the initial order was too broad and did not specify who specifically he must stay at least 100 feet away from, as called for in the order.
Okum ruled on April 17 that the initial order, which he noted was oral rather than written, would be suspended until an evidentiary hearing takes place in which Capital Pride will need to present evidence justifying the need for such an order.
“I’m fine with scheduling a hearing at which the plaintiff can present evidence, and the defendant can present evidence,” Okum said. “But I’m not fine with just continuing this oral TRO [Temporary Restraining Order] that Mr. Pasha really doesn’t even have notice of. That seems unfair,” he said.
After asking both Pasha and Capital Pride Alliance Attorney Nick Harrison when they would be available for the evidence hearing, Okum set the date for April 27 at 11 a.m. in Superior Court.
The case began when Capital Pride Alliance, the D.C.-based LGBTQ group that organizes the city’s annual Pride events, filed a Civil Complaint on Oct. 27, 2025, against Pasha, accusing him of engaging in a year-long effort to harass, intimidate, and stalk Capital Pride’s staff, board members, and volunteers.
The complaint was accompanied by a separate motion seeking a restraining order, preliminary injunction, and anti-stalking order prohibiting Pasha from “any further contact, harassment, intimidation, or interference with the Plaintiff, its staff, board members, volunteers, and affiliates.”
In his initial ruling in February, Okum issued an order requiring Pasha to stay at least 100 feet away from Capital Pride staff, board members, and volunteers until the April 17 status hearing. He reduced the stay-away distance from the 200 yards requested by Capital Pride.
Pasha, who has so far represented himself in court without an attorney, has argued in multiple court filings and motions that the Capital Pride stalking allegations are untrue. In his initial 16-page response to the complaint, Pasha said it appears to be a form of retaliation against him for a dispute he has had with Capital Pride and its former board president, Ashley Smith, who has since resigned from the board.
“It is evident that the document is replete with false, misleading, and unsubstantiated assertions,” Pasha’s court response states.
At the April 17 hearing, Okum also ruled that, as standard procedure for civil complaints such as this one, he has ordered both parties to enter into court-supervised mediation to attempt to reach a settlement rather than go to trial.
In an earlier ruling Okum denied Pasha’s request for a jury trial, stating that civil cases such as this must undergo a trial with the judge determining the verdict under existing civil court statutes.
The April 17 court hearing was held in a courtroom at the courthouse, but as allowed under current court rules, Capital Pride attorney Harrison and Capital Pride official June Crenshaw participated virtually through a video connection. Pasha attended the hearing in the courtroom.
“This matter is proceeding through the court in the normal course,” Capital Pride released in a statement. “We look forward to presenting the relevant evidence at the scheduled hearing. Capital Pride Alliance remains committed to maintaining a safe and respectful environment for our staff, volunteers, and community, and to addressing concerns through appropriate channels.”
“This is clearly a case of retaliation,” Pasha told the Blade after the hearing. “Today the judge removed the stay-away order and asked Capital Pride Alliance to present enough evidence and examples to see if a stay-away order should be granted,” he said. “Because Pride is coming up in June, we need to see where this is going.”
District of Columbia
Gay D.C. police lieutenant arrested on child porn charges
Matthew Mahl once served as head of LGBT Liaison Unit
D.C. police announced on April 14 that they have placed one of their lieutenants, Matthew Mahl, on administrative leave and revoked his police powers after receiving information that he was arrested in Maryland one day earlier.
Although the initial D.C. police announcement doesn’t disclose the reason for the arrest it refers to a statement by the Harford County, Md. Sheriff’s Office that discloses Mahl has been charged with sexual solicitation of a minor and child porn solicitation.
“On Tuesday, the Harford County Sheriff’s Office contacted MPD’s Internal Affairs Division shortly after arresting Lieutenant Matthew Mahl,” the D.C. police statement says.
“The allegations in this case are extremely disturbing, and in direct contrast to the values of the Metropolitan Police Department,” the statement continues. “MPD’s Internal Affairs Division will investigate violations of MPD policy once the criminal investigation concludes,” it says.
“MPD is not involved in the criminal investigation and was not aware of the investigation until yesterday,” the statement adds.
Mahl served as acting supervisor of the MPD’s then Gay & Lesbian Liaison Unit in 2013 when he held the rank of sergeant. D.C. police officials placed him on administrative leave and suspended his police powers that same year while investigating an undisclosed allegation.
A source familiar with the investigation said Mahl was cleared of any wrongdoing a short time later and resumed his police duties. Around the time he was promoted to lieutenant several years later Mahl took on the role as chairman of the D.C. Police Union, becoming the first known openly gay officer to hold that position.
NBC 4 reports that Mahl, 47, has served on the police force for 23 years and most recently was assigned to the department’s Special Operations Division.
Records related to Mahl’s arrest filed in Harford County District Court, show Sheriff’s Department investigators state in charging documents that he allegedly committed the offenses of Sexual Solicitation of a Minor and Child Porn Solicitation on Monday, April 13, one day before he was arrested on April 14.
The court records show he was held without bond during his first appearance in court on April 14. A decision on whether he would be released while awaiting trial or continue to be held without bond was scheduled to be determined during an April 15 bond hearing. The outcome of that hearing could not be immediately determined.
District of Columbia
D.C. bar, LGBTQ+ Community Center to mark Lesbian Visibility Week
‘Ahead of the Curve’ documentary screening, ‘Queeroke’ among events
2026 Lesbian Visibility Week North America will take place from April 20-26.
This year marks the third annual Lesbian Visibility Week, run by the Curve Foundation. A host of events take place from April 20-26.
This year’s theme is Health and Wellness. For the Curve Foundation, the term “lesbian” serves as an umbrella term for a host of identities, including lesbians, bisexual and transgender women, and anyone else connected to the lesbian community.
The week kicks off with a flag-raising ceremony on April 19. It will take place in New York, but will be livestreamed for the public.
“Queeroke” is one of the events being held around the country. It will take place at various participating bars on April 23.
As You Are, an LGBTQ bar in Capitol Hill, is one of eight locations across the U.S. participating. Their event is free and 21+.
On April 24, the D.C. LGBTQ+ Community Center will hold a screening of “Ahead of the Curve,” a documentary about the founder of Curve, Franco Stevens. The event is free with an RSVP.
April 25, is Queer Women in Sports Day. And on April 26, several monuments in New York will be illuminated.
Virtual events ranging from health to sports will be made available to the public. Details will be released closer to the start of Lesbian Visibility Week. Featured events can be found on the official website.
Some ways for individuals to get involved are to use #LVW26 and tag the official Lesbian Visibility Week account on social media posts. People are encouraged to display their lesbian flags, and businesses can hand out pins and decorate. They can also reach out to local lawmakers to encourage them to issue an official Lesbian Visibility Week.
Judge rescinds stay-away order in Capital Pride anti-stalking case
The latest Supreme Court case erasing LGBTQ identity
Calendar: April 17-23
Team DC’s annual gala set for this weekend
LGBTQ Catholic groups slam Trump over pope criticism
Court orders Pride flag to return to Stonewall
Sri Lankan government withdraws support for LGBTQ tourism initiative
La X vuelve al tribunal
Lebanese LGBTQ group responds to latest war
