Commentary
Congressional Women’s Softball Game comes hours after anti-LGBTQ votes on Hill
We must not forget the threats to queer lives that reappear once players leave field
As a lesbian working on the Hill, I was thrilled to hear about the Congressional Women’s Softball Game. Though I’ve never played the sport, I knew the game would be my Super Bowl, the queer political event of the year — never mind the White House Pride Reception taking place the very same night.
So, on June 26, I put on my baseball cap, tightened my overalls, and enjoyed seven innings of congressional softball at Watkins Recreation Center. The ice cream was free. Typo the border collie threw out the first pitch. Everyone, donned in their C-Span hats, was thrilled to watch their representatives dive for first.
Yet, in the face of this intimate, community-based event, I couldn’t brush off the political tension undergirding the entire evening. The game felt more authentic, definitely more queer, and more dedicated to its charities than the Congressional Baseball Game that took place just two weeks earlier, but it was nonetheless plagued by the same sentiment of political escapism, a momentary distraction from the severity of American politics today. I’d come from work, where I’d been reviewing Project 2025 and hearings where homophobic rhetoric was a staple. So the irony of lawmakers—who had voted just hours earlier to pass appropriations bills packed with anti-LGBTQ riders—playing softball was not lost on me. Ultimately, there is a space for comic and communal relief within politics, but such moments like the Congressional Women’s Softball Game cannot distract us from the very real threats to queer lives that culminate once the players leave the field and return to the halls of Congress.
Started in 2009 by Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz, Rep. Jo Ann Emerson, Sen. Kristen Gillibrand, and Sen. Susan Collins, the annual Congressional Women’s Softball Game sees Republican and Democratic congresswomen face off against their rivals: the Washington, D.C. press corps. The tradition began when Rep. Wasserman Schultz announced her battle with breast cancer and has now raised more than $4 million for the Young Survival Coalition. Though it is young, the game is an annual force of good.
The Congressional Baseball Game, however, is far older. Dating back to 1909, the annual event pits Republicans against Democrats at Nationals Park. This year, the annual game saw the GOP win 31-11, hosted 30,000 fans, and raised $2.2 million for the Boys and Girls Club of Greater Washington, Nationals Philanthropies, and The Washington Literacy Center.
And though this year’s games felt entirely different—one was an event for charity, the other for Pride—there were still numerous startling similarities. Countless police officers with assault rifles lined the outfield and the rooftops. Corporate sponsors like McDonald’s and Spotify provided snacks and merchandise. A dog caught frisbees between innings (which both sets of fans loved). And, most importantly, there was a tension between the levity of lawmakers diving for fly balls and the political power in their hands. At one point during the game, my girlfriend and I cheered for a representative responsible for a double play, before realizing she was one of many Republicans on the field to have voted against the Respect for Marriage Act. We were further surprised as the Republican outfielder high-fived and laughed with teammate and lesbian Rep. Sharice Davids.
I was reminded that—despite the seeming bipartisanship and strive for a greater good—events like these can and should not distract us from the threats facing queer—and especially trans—people in appropriations bills, upcoming Supreme Court decisions, and the November election. In fact, more anti-LGBTQ bills than ever were introduced this year, each motivated by partisanship and individualistic thinking that one softball game cannot erase. The day after the game at the House’s Pride month special order hour, lesbian Rep. Becca Balint described Republican representatives approaching her in the halls of Congress, saying they “didn’t mean [her]” when they voted in favor of numerous anti-LGBTQ amendments and bills.
In the face of all this, it is difficult to reconcile light-hearted events like the Congressional Softball Game, the Congressional Baseball Game, or even Will on the Hill. Of course, there is a time and place to make light of our political circumstances, to find avenues for queer joy. Without humor and optimism in politics, congressional offices would go unstaffed; it would be impossible to live a sane day under our government. But we must remember that these events are only momentary Hail Mary’s to forget the seemingly downward spiral of our democracy. We must not forget what is at stake, despite the good and bad distractions, whether we are winning or losing the battle for equality.
Perhaps last month’s softball game did just that. It was an intimate show of community building, motivated by an issue we can all get behind: the fight to end breast cancer. It was intent on its mission, and not once did it fear decomposing into a brawl for political party pride. But we cannot think ourselves safe, especially when politics becomes light-hearted. Instead, we must remember to fight for the values of bipartisanship and the common good that these events embody.
Camille Cypher is a student at the University of Chicago and an intern in the U.S. House of Representatives.
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Commentary
Protecting the trans community is not optional for elected allies and candidates
One of oldest political tactics is blaming vulnerable group for societal woes
Being an ally to the trans community is not a conditional position for me, nor should it be for any candidate. My allyship doesn’t hinge on polling, focus groups, or whether courage feels politically convenient. At a time when trans people, especially trans youth of color, are under coordinated attack, elected officials and candidates must do more than offer quiet support. We must take a public and solid stand.
History shows us how these moments begin. One of the oldest political tactics is to single out the most vulnerable and blame them for society’s anxieties — not because they are responsible, but because they are easier to blame than those with power and protection. In Nazi Germany, Jewish people were primarily targeted, but they were not the only demographic who suffered elimination. LGBTQ people, disabled people, Romani communities, political dissidents, and others were also rounded up, imprisoned, and killed. Among the earliest acts of fascistic repression was the destruction of Berlin’s Institute for Sexual Science, a pioneering center for gender-affirming care and LGBTQ research. These books and medical records were among the first to be confiscated and burned. It is not a coincidence that these same communities are now the first to suffer under this regime, they are our canaries in the coal mine signaling what’s to come.
Congress, emboldened by the rhetoric of the Donald Trump campaign, recently passed HR 3492 to criminalize healthcare workers who provide gender-affirming healthcare with fines and imprisonment. This bill, sponsored by celebrity politicians like Marjorie Taylor Greene, puts politics and headlines over people and health outcomes. Healthcare that a number of cis-gendered people also benefit from byway of hair regeneration and surgery, male and female breast augmentation, hormone replacement therapy etc. Even when these bills targeting this care do not pass, they do real damage. They create fear among patients, legal uncertainty for providers, and instability for clinics that serve the most marginalized people in our communities.
Here in D.C., organizations like Planned Parenthood and Whitman-Walker Health are lifelines for many communities. They provide gender-affirming care alongside primary care, mental health services, HIV treatment, and preventative medicine. When healthcare is politicized or criminalized, people don’t wait for court rulings — they delay care, ration medication, or disappear from the system entirely.
As a pharmacist, I know exactly what that means. These are life-saving medications. Continuity of care matters. Criminalizing and politicizing healthcare does not protect children or families — it puts lives at risk.
Instead of centering these realities, political discourse has been deliberately diverted toward a manufactured panic about trans women in sports. Let me be clear: trans women deserve to be protected and allowed to compete just like anyone else. Athletics have always included people with different bodies, strengths, and abilities. Girls and women will always encounter competitors who are stronger or faster — that is not a gender or sports crisis, it is the nature of competition.
Sports are meant to teach fairness, mutual respect, and the shared spirit of competition — not suspicion or exclusion. We should not police young people’s bodies, and we should reject attempts to single out trans youth as a political distraction. Families and doctors should be the authority on sex and gender identity.
This narrative has been cynically amplified by the right, but too often Democrats have allowed it to take hold rather than forcefully rejecting it. It is imperative to pay attention to what is happening — and to push back against every attempt to dehumanize anyone for political gain.
Trans people have always been part of our communities and our democracy. Protecting the most vulnerable is not radical — it is the foundation of a just society. My work is grounded in that commitment, and I will not waver from it. I’m proud to have hired trans political team Down Ballot to lead my campaign for DC Council At Large. We need more ally leaders of all stages to stand up for the LGBTQ+ community. We must let elected detractors know that when they come for them, then they come for all of us. We cannot allow Fox News and social media trolls to create a narrative that scares us away from protecting marginalized populations. We must stand up and do what’s right.
Anything less is not leadership.
Rep. Oye Owolewa is running for an at-large seat on the D.C. Council.
Commentary
America is going in the wrong direction for intersex children
Lawmakers are criminalizing care for trans youth, while permitting irreversible harm to intersex babies
I live with the consequences of what America is willing to condone in the name of “protecting children.”
When I was young, doctors and adults made irreversible decisions about my body without my informed consent. They weren’t responding to an emergency. They were responding to discomfort with innate physical differences and the social and medical pressure to make a child’s body conform to a rigid female-male binary. That’s the part people like to skip over when they talk about “child welfare”: the harm didn’t begin with my identity. It started with adults deciding my healthy body needed fixing.
That’s why the hypocrisy unfolding right now from statehouses to Capitol Hill feels so familiar, and so dangerous.
While harmful medical practices on intersex children, the nearly 2 percent born with differences in one or more of their physical sex characteristics, have been ongoing in the U.S. for decades, until recently, there was no law specifically condoning it.
This month, House Republicans passed one of the most extreme anti-trans bills in modern American history, advancing legislation that would criminalize gender-affirming medical care for transgender youth and threaten doctors with severe penalties for providing evidence-based treatment. The bill is framed as a measure to “protect children,” but in reality, it weaponizes the criminal legal system against families and providers who are trying to support young people in surviving adolescence.
At the same time, the administration has proposed hospital and insurance policies designed to choke off access to affirming care for trans youth nationwide by making providers fear loss of federal funding, regulatory retaliation, or prosecution. This is a familiar strategy: don’t just ban care outright; instead, make it so risky that hospitals stop providing it altogether. The result is the same everywhere. Young people lose access to care that major medical associations agree can be lifesaving.
All of this is happening under the banner of preventing “irreversible harm.”
But if America were genuinely concerned about irreversible harm to minors, the first thing lawmakers would address is the medically unnecessary, nonconsensual surgeries still performed on intersex infants and young children, procedures that permanently alter healthy tissue, often without urgent medical need, and long before a child can meaningfully participate in the decision. Human rights organizations have documented for years how these interventions are justified not by medical necessity, but by social pressure to make bodies appear more typically “female” or “male.”
Here is the uncomfortable truth: all of the state laws now banning gender-affirming care for transgender youth explicitly include exceptions that allow nonconsensual and harmful intersex surgeries to continue.
A recent JAMA Health Forum analysis found that 28 states have enacted bans on gender-affirming care for minors that carve out intersex exceptions, preserving doctors’ ability to perform irreversible “normalizing” procedures on intersex children even while prohibiting affirming care for trans adolescents.
This contradiction is not accidental. It reveals the real priority behind these laws.
If the goal were truly to protect children from irreversible medical interventions, intersex kids would be protected first. Instead, these policies target one group of children, transgender youth, while continuing to permit permanent interventions on another group whose bodies challenge the same rigid sex and gender binary that lawmakers are trying to enforce.
Intersex people are routinely erased from American policy debates, except when our bodies are invoked to justify harmful laws, warning that intersex children are being used as legal loopholes rather than protected as human beings. This “protect the children” rhetoric is routinely deployed to justify state control over bodies, while preserving medical practices that stripped intersex children like me of autonomy, good health, and choice. Those harms are not theoretical. They are lifelong.
What makes this moment even more jarring is that the federal government had finally begun to recognize intersex people and attempt to address the harms suffered.
In 2024, at the very end of his term, the Biden administration released the first-ever intersex health equity report — a landmark admission that intersex people have been harmed by the U.S. health care system. Issued by the Department of Health and Human Services, the report documents medically unnecessary interventions, lack of informed consent, and systemic erasure and recommends delaying irreversible procedures until individuals can meaningfully participate in decisions about their own bodies.
This should have been a turning point. Instead, America is moving in the opposite direction.
On day one, President Trump issued an executive order defining “sex” in a way attempting to delegitimize the existence of transgender Americans that also erased the existence of many intersex people.
When medicine is used to erase difference, it is called protection, while care that supports self-understanding is treated as a threat. This is not about medicine. It is about control.
You cannot claim to oppose irreversible harm to children while legally permitting surgeries that intersex adults and human rights experts have condemned for decades. You cannot claim to respect bodily autonomy while denying it selectively, based on whose bodies make lawmakers uncomfortable.
Protecting children means protecting all children, transgender, intersex, and cisgender alike. It means delaying irreversible interventions when they are not medically necessary. It means trusting and supporting young people and families over politicians chasing culture-war victories.
America can continue down the path of criminalizing care for some children while sanctioning harm to others, or it can finally listen to the people who have lived the consequences.
Intersex children deserve laws that protect their bodies, not politics that hurt and erase them.
Kimberly Zieselman is a human rights advocate and the author of “XOXY: A Memoir”. The author is a co-author of the JAMA Health Forum article cited, which examined state laws restricting gender-affirming care.
Today, on World AIDS Day, we honor the resilience, courage, and dignity of people living with HIV everywhere especially refugees, asylum seekers, and queer displaced communities across East Africa and the world.
For many, living with HIV is not just a health journey it is a journey of navigating stigma, borders, laws, discrimination, and survival.
Yet even in the face of displacement, uncertainty, and exclusion, queer people living with HIV continue to rise, thrive, advocate, and build community against all odds.
To every displaced person living with HIV:
• Your strength inspires us.
• Your story matters.
• You are worthy of safety, compassion, and the full right to health.
• You deserve a world where borders do not determine access to treatment, where identity does not determine dignity, and where your existence is celebrated not criminalized.
Let today be a reminder that:
• HIV is not a crime.
• Queer identity is not a crime.
• Seeking safety is not a crime.
• Stigma has no place in our communities.
• Access to treatment, care, and protection is a human right.
As we reflect, we must recommit ourselves to building systems that protect not punish displaced queer people living with HIV. We must amplify their voices, invest in inclusive healthcare, and fight the inequalities that fuel vulnerability.
Hope is stronger when we build it together.
Let’s continue to uplift, empower, and walk alongside those whose journeys are too often unheard.
Today we remember.
Today we stand together.
Today we renew hope.
Abraham Junior lives in the Gorom Refugee Settlement in South Sudan.
