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Recovery at the Triangle Club

Coming together as a group to fight a common addiction

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If you need help with an addiction, the Triangle Club offers an array of meetings and resources. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

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.

(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

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.)

(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)
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District of Columbia

$3.7 billion RFK stadium proposal draws support from Team DC

Washington Commanders ‘proud’ to champion LGBTQ community

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The long-suffering RFK Stadium will be razed to make way for a new domed facility that could one day host the Super Bowl. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

Miguel Ayala, president of the D.C. LGBTQ sports organization Team D.C., has expressed support for the $3.7 billion deal reached between Mayor Muriel Bowser and the Washington Commanders football team to bring the team back to D.C. in a redeveloped site on the grounds of the city’s long shuttered RFK stadium.

With the deal calling for the city to provide $1 billion in taxpayer funds for infrastructure related costs for the massive redevelopment project — and with the Commanders to provide the remaining $2.7 billion — as of this week the deal did not have majority support on the D.C. Council, which must vote to approve it.

Ayala’s support for the project on behalf of Team D.C. raises the question of whether members of the city’s influential LGBTQ community might play some role in urging the D.C. Council to approve the project.

The proposal comes at a time when the Washington Commanders team includes a message of support for the LGBTQ community on its website. The message follows its hosting last October of its 4th annual LGBTQ Pride Night Out at the Commanders game against the Cleveland Browns.

“The Washington Commanders are proud to champion the LGBTQ+ community and its allies,” the team states on its website. “Through the unifying power of sports, we aim to create a culture where all feel welcome and celebrated.”

In a statement released to the Washington Blade, Ayala points out that the Commanders are among every D.C.-based professional sports team that hosts a Pride Night Out event, which Team DC helps to organize.

“Each year, our events have grown stronger, with vibrant tailgates, on-field celebrations, and powerful moments that shine a spotlight on our community,” Ayala said. “We can’t wait to kick off our first Night Out at the Commanders Stadium in 2030.”

He was referring to plans by the Commanders organization and the D.C. mayor’s office to have the stadium deal approved by the D.C. Council in July, with construction of the new stadium to begin then, and with a planned completion in time for the 2030 professional football season.

Ayala also points out that the RFK stadium grounds currently serve as home to LGBTQ-related sports activity, including the D.C. Gay Flag Football League and the D.C. Front Runners group. He added that the RFK grounds will serve as the playing fields for this year’s WorldPride Capital Cup sports competition, where LGBTQ rugby and soccer teams from around the world will compete.

“This new stadium will be more than just a field – it will be a powerful new addition to the vibrant, diverse, and proud communities we champion every day,” he said in his statement.

At an April 28 news conference, Bowser, Washington Commanders owner Josh Harris and other city officials provided details of the stadium project, noting that it includes a massive development of the new stadium and the surrounding 180 acres of land.

In addition to the 65,000-seat domed stadium, officials said the project would include 5,000 to 6,000 residential housing units, with 30 percent designated as “affordable” for low- and moderate-income residents. They said the project would also include parks and recreation areas, hotels, restaurants, retail, and neighborhood amenities.

“As we focus on the growth of our economy, we’re not only bringing our team home, but we’re also bringing new jobs and new revenue to our city and to Ward 7,” Bowser said in a statement

Opponents of the project, including D.C. Council Chair Phil Mendelson (D-At-Large), have said they don’t believe the city should use its own funds for a stadium and the related development. 

So far, just four Council members have expressed support for the project. Mendelson and two other Council members have expressed opposition, and the remaining five have not yet said whether they would vote for or against it. The project needs seven of the current 12-member Council for it to be approved.

Council member Zachary Parker (D-Ward 5), the Council’s only gay member, who initially had not taken a position on the proposal, this week said he was looking at the project more favorably, according to news media reports. 

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District of Columbia

Welcome home: DC LGBTQ Center opens its doors to healing and hope

The 6,671 square foot DC LGBTQ Center will offer a wide range of resources for LGBTQ individuals in need – including mental health services, job readiness programs, cultural events, and community support groups, all under one roof.

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The D.C. Center (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

On a sunny spring day in Washington’s Shaw neighborhood, the once empty Holzbeierlein Bakery warehouse now showcases energy, pride, and the sounds of chosen family coming closer together. After years in a less-than-perfect space on 14th Street, the DC LGBTQ community finally has a new home at the DC LGBTQ Center—and Executive Director Kimberley Bush says it’s more than a building. It’s a promise.

That promise, Bush explained to the Washington Blade on April 26—the day of the new LGBTQ Center’s opening—may change depending on who is being uplifted by the DC Center, but at its core remains the same goal: a thriving LGBTQ community in the nation’s capital. The commitment to the DC LGBTQ community is able to grow more connected and stronger, she explained, as more resources, space, and funding become available for the DC Center.

“This is a glorious home,” Bush said, beaming as groups of community members walked in under the giant inflatable rainbow at the Center’s doors. “It’s our new home. Today was a whole day of welcome home. This space has been an amazing endeavor for a long time, one that we’ve always known we’ve needed. This is space that we need for our LGBT siblings in need—and it’s amazing when your intentions match your efforts.”

The DC Center has long worked to “educate, empower, uplift, celebrate, elevate, and connect” the LGBTQ community from its former location at the Reeves Center. But now, in its new space at 1828 Wiltberger St., N.W., these efforts are more visible, accessible, and impactful than ever before.

“This space is a model that is new, that we are creating,” Bush said as groups of DC Center supporters chatted with Etta James’s “At Last” filling the hallways. “There is, I believe, no other LGBTQ+ community center in the country that not only has its own life and supportive services in its building, but is also co-housed with other organizations. A lot of community centers try and do it all, but that’s not what we wanted. We wanted to be able to bring everybody together under one roof, to be able to have that whole life supportive services center like one-stop shopping. We didn’t want to take over anything anyone else did. We don’t want to take away the dollars those organizations have to do what they do for the community. We want us all to be together. So that’s what we are. We’ve been able to now expand into almost 7,000 square feet of space.”

(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

The new DC Center features a variety of functional spaces designed to meet the diverse needs of the LGBTQ community. It includes office space for up to nine additional partner organizations, creating a hub for collaboration and support. Local and integral LGBTQ organizations like SMYAL, Team DC, and HIPS are some of the groups taking advantage of the space.

“People can be spread out,” Bush said about the opportunity for these LGBTQ-specific organizations to have a dedicated office in the Center. “We are on a grander scale, so we have a grander number of individuals that we can positively and effectively take care of. We [as members of the DC LGBTQ Center] can’t provide everything someone needs, but we can be an outpost for other organizations. Because we’ve expanded, we are able to expand the love, kindness, and support we can give our siblings.”

Additional support, Bush explained, is made possible by the intentional design of the new DC Center. Specialized rooms meet critical needs—from an HIV and STI testing room to therapy spaces and a boutique offering professional attire for job interviews. While the DC Center may not provide every service directly, it offers a shared space where partner organizations can step in and support the community—all under one roof.

“Often people are not able to go here, here, and here, to get what those gaps in life are creating,” she said. “To bridge them in one space just gives that person the opportunity to have less on their heart and their mind in regards to what they need to take care of themselves.”

In addition to being able to provide a space for instrumental elements of protecting the safety and well-being of the DC LGBTQ community, the Center also has a food pantry, a boutique with a clothing closet, an ADA-accessible shower, a mailroom to assist those without a permanent address, and a spacious kitchen.

This, she explained, is why this space is so monumental to providing the DC LGBTQ community the resources they need in a succinct and approachable way.

(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

“By bridging those gaps and having as much as we can here means you’re in one space to get your needs met,” she added. “From sexual health needs, in terms of testing, counseling, and what have you, to mental and behavioral health needs. You can get food, you can get clothing, you can shower. You can store some of your things here. That is such an ease off of your mind to where now you can breathe.”

After stepping into the Center’s director role in 2022, Bush said that she often sees her “siblings” within the community make a better life for themselves starting by walking through the front doors. Sometimes the following steps take more time and resources than for others, but regardless of what it takes, Bush emphasized the goal is to alleviate some stress and make tomorrow an approachable reality.

“I have the amazing opportunity to interact with our community members, our siblings, on a regular basis,” she said. “Often I see them when they first walk in our door. Sometimes they walk in unhappy, sometimes devastated, or they walk in not in a good space. When they come in and invite us in to hear their stories, when they want to share what’s going on with them so we can learn how to best care, love, and support them, it’s incredible. We make a POA, a plan of action, outlining how to take care of them and what that’s going to take.”

Walking through the Center, it is hard to not notice the smiles coming from everyone’s faces—from volunteers, board members, community members, and those seeking assistance. The DC Center, with its rainbow murals and shining floors, has become a beacon of hope for many LGBTQ Washingtonian residents in need. For some, Bush explained, that can be as simple as having a space for solace in a city that seems to have no shortage of stressors.

“The space is made for anyone who’s in need, and even if you’re not,” she said. “This is a place for you to come and be peaceful. A place for you to come and have a cup of tea, not to pay a thing, or have to talk to anybody. You can just sit here and have a cup of tea.”

The more she spoke about the space, it became clear that providing a space for LGBTQ people to be is just as important as providing spaces for the services to take place. The DC LGBTQ Center invites people to not only find what they need to make themselves better in a literal sense but also allows them to simply exist. It is rare for a city to provide this kind of refuge from the constant motion that life demands. And that can be life-changing, she says.

“I will say, ‘How are you today? How are you feeling today?’ ‘How are you’ and ‘how are you feeling’ are two different things, but I do want to know how you’re feeling. If you don’t answer me, that’s good. You know? That’s perfect,” Bush said. “This space is built for everyone, especially for trans and non-binary folk, and for our brown and Black folk. It’s a space for those who just need a space to be.”

In a world that often erases or overlooks LGBTQ people, especially trans, non-binary, Black, and brown community members, the simple act of being seen and cared for can be revolutionary. The DC Center aims to be a place for LGBTQ people to be themselves—not to force them to prove anything or lead them to speak, but to truly be themselves. That quiet affirmation of ‘allowing to be’ can plant the seed to a better, more authentic life.

(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

“One thing that I love to hear, and it makes me feel so good, because they say it in a way that’s just like you and I would say it, or anyone would say it, but sometimes they may not have thought they would say it. They would say, ‘See you tomorrow. See you later.’ This is a person who may not have had tomorrow in their mind. Where you and I say that all the time, but for a lot of our people, our siblings, who come to us, that may not be a thing for them. But when they come in our doors, receive the care and the love and the support and kindness, but then they walk out and they say, ‘See you tomorrow,’ and we do see them tomorrow! I can tell you that this response not only drives me to do this work, because this is good work and I’m very fortunate and privileged to be here, but it’s hearing that out of someone’s mouth. That’s it. That’s all I need.”

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District of Columbia

Ruby Corado sentencing postponed for third time

Attorneys say former Casa Ruby director has ‘significant medical issues’

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Ruby Corado has pleaded guilty to one count of wire fraud. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

A federal judge on April 8 approved a request by defense attorneys to postpone the sentencing of Ruby Corado, the founder and executive director of the now closed D.C. LGBTQ community services organization Casa Ruby on a charge of wire fraud, from April 29 to July 29. 

Court records show that Judge Trevor N. McFadden of the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia approved a motion filed by Corado’s two defense attorneys on that same day calling for the sentencing postponement on grounds of health issues.

“Ms. Corado has significant medical issues,” the April 8 motion states. “She has an important medical appointment related to one of her diagnoses scheduled in June 2025 and will need time to recover from that appointment,” it says.

The motion gives no further details on Colorado’s medical issues. A.J. Kramer, director of the D.C. Office of the Federal Public Defender, whose attorneys are representing Corado, said the office has a policy of never disclosing specific medical related information regarding its clients.

Court records show that prosecutors with the Office of the U.S. Attorney for D.C. did not object to the defense motion seeking the third sentencing postponement. 

The records show that an earlier postponement of the sentencing, from March 28 to April 29, was initiated by the judge due to a scheduling conflict. The first postponement from Jan. 10 to March 28 came at the request of Corado’s attorneys, court records show.

Corado pleaded guilty on July 17, 2024, to a single charge of wire fraud as part of a plea bargain deal offered by prosecutors. The charge to which she pleaded guilty says she allegedly diverted at least $150,000 “in taxpayer backed emergency COVID relief funds to private offshore bank accounts for her personal use,” according to a statement released by the U.S. Attorney’s office.

Prosecutors have said funds that Corado allegedly diverted for her own use were intended to be used by Casa Ruby in support of its various programs, including housing services for homeless LGBTQ youth and support for LGBTQ immigrants.

The U.S. Attorney’s statement also notes that in 2022, when “financial irregularities at Casa Ruby became public,” Corado sold her home in Prince George’s County, Md. and “fled to El Salvador.” It was at that time that Casa Ruby ceased its operations.

Court records show that FBI agents arrested Corado on March 5, 2024, at a hotel in Laurel, Md., shortly after she returned to the U.S. At the request of her attorney and against the wishes of prosecutors, another judge at that time agreed to release Corado into custody of her niece in Rockville, Md., under a home detention order.

The release order came seven days after Corado had been held in jail at the time of her arrest by the FBI.

Under the federal wire fraud law Corado could be sentenced to a possible maximum sentence of 30 years in prison, according to the U.S. Attorney’s statement. However, court observers have said that due to Corado’s decision to waive her right to a trial and plead guilty, prosecutors will likely ask the judge to hand down a lesser sentence than the maximum sentence.  

The statement by prosecutors points out that Corado’s decision to plead guilty to the one charge came after she had been charged in a criminal complaint filed on March 1, 2024, with bank fraud, wire fraud, laundering of monetary instruments, monetary transactions in criminally derived proceeds, and failure to file a report of foreign bank accounts. 

All those charges except for the wire fraud charge were dropped at the time of her guilty plea.

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