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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 arenā€™t leaving. Theyā€™ve only left the building to come to the stairs, just to chat. Itā€™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 theyā€™re there, youā€™ll get only the vaguest of answers. ā€œWeā€™re just coming from a meeting,ā€ one will say. ā€œItā€™s a clubhouse,ā€ 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. Itā€™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 theyā€™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 theyā€™re all about.

The Club had its kickoff meeting in 1988, during the AIDS crisis. Churches werenā€™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 clubā€™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. ā€œI thought meth was a prerequisite for going out,ā€ said one. ā€œI thought thatā€™s what you did.ā€ Another said, ā€œI drank to find community. And then I drank to numb myself when I didnā€™t find it in the gay community.ā€ 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 peopleā€™s recovery, I also heard a lot of gratitude for the community of the Triangle Club itself. It wasnā€™t just that the Club helped people turn away from an unhealthy way of solving their problems. Itā€™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 anotherā€™s mission for a more fulfilling life. To be present for the absolute raucousness, as when one gentleman described living on meth as ā€œwearing a fur coat into a swimming pool,ā€ and then ā€œturning the wave-machine on.ā€ To hear the applause that only someone four days sober could receive. But what kind of destructive, life-threatening wish was I making? I couldnā€™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 ā€œsober community,ā€ and my ears perked up. Perhaps there was a broader community of folks, of which those in recovery were only a part, that wasnā€™t centered around substance use. 

ā€œThe sober community absolutely extends beyond the Triangle Club,ā€ he told me. ā€œThere are a bunch of other gay meetings that go on.ā€ This wasnā€™t exactly what I hoped to hear. What a sorry state weā€™re in, I couldnā€™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 theyā€™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 arenā€™t the right one to advise them. But I think itā€™s a testament to the space that these things could be said in the space. The meetings arenā€™t a place of mandatory optimism, but honest experience. And what good is a meeting for sharing honest experience if you canā€™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 doorsā€”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 ā€œSā€ meetings, as the gentleman described them, canā€™t take ā€œcoming togetherā€ lightly, nor a ā€œcommon addictionā€ 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? ā€œThat simply isnā€™t an option,ā€ the gentleman said. And unlike recovery meetings for substances, which can ban substances from the room, the same canā€™t as easily be said for ā€œSā€ meetings. Weā€™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 canā€™t be a given at ā€œSā€ meetings, where joining hands might be violating someoneā€™s boundary. 

With the pandemic waning, most recovery meetings have slowly started to transition away from video format back to in-person. But ā€œSā€ 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. ā€œYou canā€™t hug a square!ā€ I suspect thatā€™s the very reason ā€œSā€ meetings have been slow to return.

Part of my disappointment in not attending the ā€œSā€ 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. Arenā€™t the ā€œSā€ meetings the heart, in a sense, of the Triangle Club? But a conversation with a gentleman from Alcoholics Anonymous had me rethinking this. ā€œ[Accepting youā€™re an alcoholic,] itā€™s similar to coming out as gay,ā€ he said. ā€œThere are people out there who view it as a moral failing, but itā€™s just part of who I am.ā€ 

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

Washington Commanders fire exec who called Black players ā€˜homophobicā€™

Team vice president also disparaged fans as ā€˜alcoholic mouth-breathersā€™

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The Washington Commanders football team this week fired one of its executives, who made remarks that were recorded without his knowledge by an undercover news reporter claiming the teamā€™s Black players were ā€œhomophobicā€ and that some National Football League players were ā€œdumb as hell.ā€

Multiple news media outlets, including theĀ Washington Post and the LGBTQ sports publication Out Sports, identified the executive as Rael Enteen, who held the title of Vice President of Content for the Commanders organization.

The publication The Athletic reports that Enteen was secretly recorded with a hidden video camera by a female reporter for the Oā€™Keefe Media Group during two dates in which the reporter did not disclose she was with the media.

Among his recorded comments, The Athletic and other media outlets have reported, is he told the reporter  that some National Football League players, including Black players, were dumb and homophobic.

ā€œA big chunk [of the Commanders roster] is very low-income African American that comes from a community that is inherently very homophobic,ā€ the Daily Mail reports Enteen as saying in the recording. ā€œI love hip-hop, hip-hop is very homophobic,ā€ he reportedly stated in the video. ā€œItā€™s a cultural thing that I hope gets better.ā€

Enteen also called NFL fans ā€œhigh school-educated alcoholicsā€ and ā€œmouth breathers,ā€ the Associated Press reports.

The AP also reports that Enteen states in the video recording that Jerry Jones, the owner of the Dallas Cowboys football team, ā€œhates gay people and Black people.ā€ The AP says the Cowboys team did not respond to a request for comment.

According to the AP, a Washington Commanders spokesperson said in response to being asked about the decision to fire Enteen, ā€œThe language used in the video runs counter to our values at the Commanders organization.ā€

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District of Columbia

Two prominentĀ LGBTQ candidates drop out of race for ANC seats

Musa, Rangel among 46 hit with signature petition challenges

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Vida Rangel (Photo by Praddy Banerjee/@praddyban)

D.C. Capital Pride Alliance board member Anthony Musa and transgender D.C. government official Vida Rangel have withdrawn as candidates in the cityā€™s Nov. 5 election for Advisory Neighborhood Commission seats after separate challenges were filed questioning the validity of the signatures on their required nominating petitions.

Musa was one of at least four LGBTQ candidates running unopposed for seats on ANC 2B, which represents the Dupont Circle neighborhood.

Rangel, who described herself as the first Latina trans person of color to run for public office in D.C., was running for the ANC single member district seat 1A10 in the cityā€™s Columbia Heights neighborhood. She was running against incumbent Billy Easley, who identifies as a gay man. Rangel currently serves as director of operations for the D.C. Mayorā€™s Office of Talent and Appointments.

Under D.C. election rules, ANC candidates must obtain the signatures of at least 25 registered voters who live in their ANC single member district to gain access to the election ballot. Under the D.C. government, ANCs are unpaid, voluntary elected positions given the role of advising city government officials on neighborhood issues, with city officials required to give ā€œgreat weightā€ to the ANCsā€™ recommendations.

Musa told the Washington Blade on Sept. 3 that he withdrew his candidacy after realizing he only obtained about 26 or 27 signatures, with a few of them appearing to be from people who did not live in his ANC single member district 2B01. He said the person challenging his petition, whom he called a neighborhood rival, would likely have succeeded in the challenge and invalidated his candidacy.

ā€œWith the signatures, I just didnā€™t meet the level,ā€ he said. ā€œThere were several people that I thought lived in my district, but they didnā€™t. So, if I ever do this again, Iā€™ll make sure I get like triple the amount that I need.ā€

Rangel told the Blade on Sept. 4 that after receiving the challenge to her petition she too realized she fell short on the number of needed petition signatures. ā€œAfter reviewing that challenge and checking records of what I could correct, I would have ended up coming just four signatures short,ā€ she said. ā€œSo, in the end I decided to withdraw. Itā€™s very disappointing.ā€

She said she also decided not to run for the ANC seat as a write-in candidate. ā€œI think as a write-in I wouldnā€™t be anywhere as viable with my opponent Billy Easley running for re-election and with the name recognition he has,ā€ Rangel said. ā€œSo, I think itā€™s best for me to step back and let him continue his service.ā€

Gay D.C. political activist Joe Bishop-Henchman filed the challenge against Rangel and seven other ANC candidates.

Bishop-Henchman disputed claims by some neighborhood activists who said he and others who challenged the signature petitions of ANC candidates were targeting those candidates because they disagreed with the candidatesā€™ positions on issues impacting their respective neighborhoods. He insisted he only files challenges against ā€œthe candidate that says they have the 25 valid signatures but doesn’t.ā€

Vincent Slatt, who serves as chair of the ANC Rainbow Caucus, which includes LGBTQ ANC members from across the city, said he recognized the names of about three or four other LGBTQ ANC candidates whose petitions were also being challenged.

Slatt said he believes most of the challenges were ā€œpettyā€ and motivated by neighborhood political rivalries. He and Musa pointed out that the person who challenged Musaā€™s petition, Martha ā€˜Marcyā€™ Logan, serves on the board of directors of the Dupont Circle Citizens Association. Some Dupont Circle neighborhood activists, including LGBTQ activists, consider the organization, referred to as the DCCA, to be biased against nightlife businesses, including some of the gay bars in the Dupont Circle area.

Musa said he believes Logan targeted him for a petition challenge because she believes he sides with the nightlife businesses. He describes himself as a ā€œpro-growthā€ advocate from a neighborhood business perspective as opposed to the DCCA, which Musa considers ā€œanti-growthā€ regarding community businesses that he feels are an asset to the neighborhood.

The DCCA didnā€™t immediately respond to a request from the Blade for comment and for contact information for Logan.

Musa said he too decided not to run for the ANC seat as a write-in candidate. With his withdrawal from the race, there will be no candidate on the November election ballot for the 2ANC 2B01 seat.

At the time she announced her candidacy in July, Rangel said among her priorities as an ANC commissioner would be improving language access for the large number of Spanish-speaking residents in the Columbia Heights neighborhood.

ā€œWe need a commissioner who is going to push for Spanish language resources so that our government officials can hear the voices of all Columbia Heights residents, not just the ones who speak English,ā€ she told the Blade.

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District of Columbia

Suspect shatters window next to entrance door at HRC building

D.C. police report saysĀ incident not listed as hate crime

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The Human Rights Campaignā€™s headquarters building is located at 1640 Rhode Island Ave., N.W. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

An unidentified male suspect on Aug. 4 threw a baseball-sized rock into a large glass window located next to the main entrance door of the Human Rights Campaignā€™s headquarters building at 1640 Rhode Island Ave., N.W., according to a D.C. police report.

The report, which lists the incident as a misdemeanor crime of Destruction of Property, provides a description of the suspect but does not say whether anyone witnessed him breaking the window. It says police received a call for the destruction of property at the eight-story tall HRC building at approximately 2:15 a.m.

ā€œAt 0212 hours [2:12 a.m.], Suspect 1 approached the outside perimeter of 1640 Rhode Island Avenue, NW at the Human Rights Campaign building and threw a baseball sized rock at a window next to the door to the building,ā€ the police report says. ā€œThe window received significant damage causing multiple cracks from the base of the window to the top of the window,ā€ it says.

ā€œSuspect 1 then walked away from the location heading eastbound on Rhode Island Avenue NW wearing a white t-shirt, tan baseball cap, black pants, black and white shoes while carrying a dark colored bookbag,ā€ the report concludes.

D.C. police reports for this type of crime almost always state whether one or more witnesses were present at the time the crime was committed. The fact that no witnesses are mentioned in the report while a detailed description of the suspect is given suggests that police had access to a video recording of the incident taken by a security camera on or near the HRC building.

The report also states that the incident has not been classified as a suspected hate crime.

In response to a Blade inquiry, D.C. police spokesperson Paris Lewbel said he was reaching out to police officials who know something about the incident, but he did not provide additional information as of Wednesday morning, Sept. 4.

In response to a request by the Blade for comment from HRC, including whether HRC provided police with video footage of the incident, HRC spokesperson Jarred Keller said he was reaching out to HRC officials for information about the incident. But he also did not provide a response as of Wednesday morning.

The Blade learned about the HRC window-breaking incident a little over a week ago, more than two weeks after it happened on Aug. 4, through a tip from an HRC volunteer.

On its website HRC says its headquarters building, which first opened in 2003, ā€œprovides ample workspace for HRCā€™s staff of more than 150,ā€ also houses HRCā€™s Equality Center, a meeting and event space available for rent, as well as the HRC Media Center, a multimedia production facility.

ā€œThis building is an important symbol for all who visit the nationā€™s capital ā€“ a constant reminder to our LGBTQ+ community, as well as anti-LGBTQ+ activists, that HRC will not stop until the LGBTQ+ community is ensured equality,ā€ a statement on the website says.

The Human Rights Campaign main entrance door as it appeared on September 3, 2024. (Washington Blade photo by Lou Chibbaro, Jr.)
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