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. Council approves increased funding for Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs
Increase attached to 2027 budget bill
The D.C. Council on July 14 gave final approval for the city’s fiscal year 2027 budget that includes an amendment calling for increasing the number and size of funding grants that the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs provides for local organizations providing services for the LGBTQ community.
The amendment, called the “LGBTQ Community Grant Amendment Act of 2026,” was introduced earlier this year by D.C. Council member Zachary Parker (D-Ward 5), the Council’s only gay member.
The D.C. LGBTQ Budget Coalition called the Parker amendment “a historic measure that establishes the District’s most sustainable model for a vehicle for investing in LGBTQ communities.”
The Council approved the version of the FY 2027 budget bill with the attached Parker amendment in its first of two required votes on June 9. Shortly after voting unanimously to give final approval of an earlier version of the two-part budget measure on July 7 that includes the Parker amendment, the Council sent the bill to Mayor Muriel Bowser for her signature.
Bowser has expressed strong opposition to several provisions in the $22 billion budget measure passed by the Council that are unrelated to the Parker amendment regarding the Office of LGBTQ Affairs. The mayor has yet to say whether she will sign, veto, or choose not to sign the bill.
The latter option would allow the bill to become law if Congress does not choose to overturn it during its required 30-day legislative review period for all D.C. bills. Political observers believe the Council will vote to override a veto if Bowser chooses to veto the bill.
When contacted by the Washington Blade on July 22 to determine where the mayor stands on the budget bill, mayoral spokesperson Daniel Gleick said only, there was “no update on the budget just yet.”
Among other things, the Parker amendment calls for the Mayor’s Office of LGBTQ Affairs to issue a $980,000 grant in FY 2027 to a private, nonprofit organization in partnership with the office “for the purpose of supporting programs that promote the welfare of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and questioning community.”
It would allocate $680,000 of that funding total from existing funds from the city’s community affairs grants program and calls for $200,000 in newly appropriated funds.
It says the organization selected would also initiate its own fundraising effort to expand the amount of funds beyond the amount the office would provide, enabling it to provide larger grants to a greater number of local LGBTQ organizations.
“The legislation arrives at a critical moment, as LGBTQ-serving organizations face unprecedented uncertainty,” the D.C. Budget Coalition said in its comment on the Parker amendment. “Growing demand for services is colliding with shrinking resources, federal attacks on LGBTQ programs, and ongoing threats to local funding streams,” the coalition’s statement says.
In what some observers have called a highly controversial action; the budget bill approved by the Council reverses and restores millions of dollars in budget cuts proposed by Bowser in the budget she submitted to the Council earlier this year.
Among other things, the Council’s budget preserves the current level of funding for housing vouchers, childcare, paid family leave, and other programs slated to be cut in the mayor’s proposed budget, according to a report by the Washington Post.
Bowser points out that the Council approved budget bill calls for using $150 million from the city’s reserve fund, which she and others have said could put the city in jeopardy in future years. The mayor has said the cuts were needed to prevent a major funding shortfall brought about by the action by Republicans in Congress to cut the city’s budget by over a billion dollars.
District of Columbia
Is the Metro safe for riders?
WMATA says crime dropped 37 percent on system in 2025
I was inside Benning Road train station in April waiting for my train with two friends on the way to school. It usually took me 25-30 minutes to get from Benning Road Station to school at Congress Heights. As I waited for the train, I kept noticing that every train that got to five minutes away would disappear from the Metro screen before it got to my stop.
I found out from one of my friends that a Metro work vehicle had crashed into a train at Metro Center and that all trains were now delayed. While my friends were able to call their family to pick them up, I had no such luxury. The train was my only option. It took me more than an hour to get to school. I missed my first period because of it and had to make up my work later in the day. I was marked absent because when a student misses one class, they’re marked absent for the day and an email is sent to their parents. I felt irritated knowing that I had to deal with all of these problems that weren’t even my fault due to an incident that happened on a different side of town.
The incident at Metro Center isn’t the only incident that I have experienced on the subway. I have experienced kids fighting and almost pushing me on the tracks, massive delays because a woman was passed out on the train and Metro police pulling out their assault rifles and arresting someone in the station, which caused people to panic and start running.
I later learned the crash that led to me being late to school caused 11 injuries to people who were on the train, according to media reports. And the Metro has experienced other dangerous incidents this year. A man was beaten so badly on Cinco de Mayo that he needed staples in his head and another man was beaten to death by a stranger at the Addison Road station.
However, I’ve never experienced any incident that has led to me getting hurt, nor actually seen anyone get hurt.
So, is the Metro safe?
Metro experienced the lowest crime rate in its history in 2025, the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority said. The crime rate decreased by 37 percent in 2025 compared to 2024.
Last year, the Metro Transit Police Department increased enforcement efforts department-wide by more than 25 percent, Metro said. WMATA said it is in the process of installing upgraded video systems on our 6000 and 7000-series rail cars, which make up most of the cars in the system. This new camera system allows for live video access to rail cars from Metro’s Integrated Command and Communications Center.
Asked if he felt unsafe using the Metro, Dr. Aruna Rajam, a teacher at Bard High School Early College DC and George Washington University, recalled being on the train with a man who was smoking weed and yelling.
“It didn’t turn physically violent, but it was alarming and made me feel like the situation could go sideways quickly,” said Rajam, who takes the train to both of his jobs, traveling day and night.
Incidents like these are what make Rajam feel unsafe occasionally when he is riding the subway at night: “Late at night — like my 8:45 ride from Foggy Bottom to Springfield — it’s a different atmosphere.”
Jayden Payne, a rising sophomore at Bard, worries even more.
“There was a man who seemed intoxicated, moving around his phone, pretending it was a gun-all up in ladies’ faces,” he said in an interview.
When asked if he would recommend the subway to others, he gave a firm “no” due to all of the incidents that he has heard about that have happened on the Metro.
Erin Bray, who graduated from Bard in June, recalled an incident when a man brought a gun on the train when she was on it. Asked if she felt safe on the subway, Bray said: “No, because there’s not enough security and people keep bringing [weapons] on there.”
Metro said it launched a Safety Risk Reduction Plan to improve riders’ safety and employs several other safety tactics, including Safe Passage patrols to help students in D.C. get to and from school safely.
While all of the people interviewed said that they saw or experienced an uncomfortable incident, Metro said it is increasing its security and safety protocols.
WMATA data coincides with what one of my interviewees said about his experience on Metro.
“I feel safer now than I felt riding the Metro today than I did 10 years ago,” Dr. Samuel Slattery, a social science teacher at Bard High School Early College, said.
He spoke of his experience with the Southeastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority subway in Philadelphia in comparison: “… That’s what an unsafe train system feels like,” Slattery said.
The week before he was interviewed in May, Slattery said he was on SEPTA and there was a woman “eating beans off the floor of the train,” a homeless man “passed out in the middle of the train,” and a mentally ill woman yelling in his and other passengers’ faces that, “‘Jesus was watching her’ and the rest of us were in contact with demons.” This incident agitated Slattery so much that he said, “Screw this” to his friend and decided to pay extra for an Uber.
Metro riders who want to report an incident or safety concern can call Metro Transit Police (MTPD) at 202-961-2121 or text MYMTPD (696783). Metro also posts a daily Crime Blotter on its website where the public can see the calls MTPD responded to on a given day. The Crime Blotter can be found here: https://www.wmata.com/about/transit-police/crime-stats.cfm
Christian Jennings, a 2026 graduate of Bard High School Early College DC, is a rising freshman at North Carolina State University, where he plans to major in nuclear engineering. He worked with journalist-instructors at Youthcast Media Group on this article.
District of Columbia
Wanda Alston Foundation announces passing of founding executive director Brian Watson
D.C. activist praised as “passionate advocate” for homeless LGBTQ youth
The Wanda Alston Foundation, which provides housing and support services for homeless LGBTQ youth in the D.C. metro area, announced on July 20 that its founding executive director, Brian Watson, has passed away.
In a statement the Alston Foundation called Watson “one of Washington, D.C.,’s most passionate advocates for LGBTQ+ youth experiencing homelessness.”
Neither the statement nor others who knew Watson have disclosed the cause of death or his age. Longtime LGBTQ community activist Rayceen Pendarvis said she heard only that Watson’s passing followed “a long time illness.”
“The origins of the Wanda Alston Foundation can be traced to a meeting convened by then-Mayor Anthony Williams at the request of Wanda Alston, the Mayor’s Director of LGBTQ Affairs,” the statement says.
“During that meeting, Brian spoke powerfully about the growing crisis of homelessness among LGBTQ+ youth in the District of Columbia and the urgent need for dedicated housing and support services,” it says. “His advocacy helped crystalize a vision that every young person deserves a safe place to call home.”
The statement points out that following Alston’s untimely death, Watson joined other community leaders “to transform that vision into reality by establishing the Wanda Alston Foundation in her memory.”
It says that today the Alston Foundation “proudly carries forward the mission Brian helped create by providing emergency and transitional housing, counseling, workforce development, life-skills training, and other supportive services that empower LGBTQ+ youth to achieve stability, independence, and hope for the future.”
Watson’s LinkedIn page says he served as executive director of the Alston Foundation from July 2013 to March 2014. The Washington Blade reported in April 2014 that the Alston Foundation announced in a March 11, 2014, statement that Watson had resigned to “pursue other opportunities.”
His LinkedIn page shows he worked for or with in a supporting role three local nonprofit organizations since leaving the Alston Foundation, including serving from February 2019 to November 2019 as a Methamphetamine Services Specialist for the D.C. group HIPS, which provides services for drug users and sex workers.
According to his LinkedIn page, from October 2014 to “present,” he also served as Chief Innovation Officer for the Propel Foundation, Inc., which he described as a “501c3 nonprofit organization founded in D.C. that works to strengthen nonprofit organizations through fiscal sponsorship and capacity building.”
A Facebook posting by his brother, Vidale Watson, says his family will be making arrangements for a memorial service and will share the date, time, and location once the details have been finalized.
“There are no words to describe the heartbreak our family is feeling,” Vidale Watson wrote. “While we are grateful for every prayer, kind word, and act of support we’ve received over the past week, this loss is still incredibly fresh.”
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