National
How data helps — and hurts — LGBTQ communities
‘Even when we prove we exist, we don’t get the resources we need’
When Scotland voted to add questions about sexuality and transgender status to its census, and clarified the definition of “sex,” it was so controversial it led to a court case.
It got so heated that the director of Fair Play for Women, a gender-critical organization, argued: “Extreme gender ideology is deeply embedded within the Scottish Government, and promoted at the highest levels including the First Minister.”
Data, like the census, “is often presented as being objective, being quantitative, being something that’s above politics,” says Kevin Guyan, author of “Queer Data.”
Listening to the deliberations in parliament breaks that illusion entirely. “There’s a lot of political power at play here,” says Guyan, “It’s very much shaped by who’s in the room making these decisions.”
Great Britain has been a ‘hotspot’ for the gender-critical movement. “You just really revealed the politics of what was happening at the time, particularly in association with an expanded anti-trans movement,” explains Guyan.
Ultimately, the LGBTQ community was counted in Scotland, which was heralded as a historic win.
This makes sense, says Amelia Dogan, a research affiliate in the Data plus Feminism Lab at MIT. “People want to prove that we exist.”
Plus, there are practical reasons. “To convince people with power, especially resource allocation power, you need to have data,” says Catherine D’Ignazio, MIT professor and co-author of the book “Data Feminism.”
When data isn’t collected, problems can be ignored. In short, D’Ignazio says, “What’s counted counts.” But, being counted is neither neutral nor a silver bullet. “Even when we do prove we exist, we don’t get the resources that we need,” says Dogan.
“There are a lot of reasons for not wanting to be counted. Counting is not always a good thing” they say. D’Ignazio points to how data has repeatedly been weaponized. “The U.S. literally used census data to intern Japanese people in the 1940s.”
Nell Gaither, president of the Trans Pride Initiative, faces that paradox each day as she gathers and shares data about incarcerated LGBTQ people in Texas.
“Data can be harmful in some ways or used in a harmful way,” she says, “they can use [the data] against us too.” She points to those using numbers of incarcerated transgender people to stoke fears around the danger of trans women, even though it’s trans women who face disproportionate risk in prison.
This is one of the many wrinkles the LGBTQ community and other minority communities face when working with or being represented by data.
There is a belief by some data scientists that limited knowledge of the subject is OK. D’Ignazio describes this as the “hubris of data science” where researchers believe they can make conclusions solely off a data set, regardless of background knowledge or previous bodies of knowledge.
“In order to be able to read the output of a data analysis process, you need background knowledge,” D’Ignazio emphasizes.
Community members, on the other hand, are often primed to interpret data about their communities. “That proximity gives us a shared vocabulary,” explains Nikki Stevens, a postdoctoral researcher in D’Ignazio’s Data plus Feminism lab.
It can also make more rich data. When Stevens was interviewing other members of the transgender community about Transgender Day of Remembrance, they realized we “think more complicated and more meaningful thoughts, because we’re in community around it.”
Community members are also primed to know what to even begin to look for.
A community may know about a widely known problem or need in their community, but they are invisible to institutions. “It’s like unknown to them because they haven’t cared to look,” says D’Ignazio.
That is how Gaither got involved in tracking data about incarcerated LGBTQ people in Texas in the first place.
Gaither received her first letter from an incarcerated person in 2013. As president of the Trans Pride Initiative, Gaither had predominately focused on housing and healthcare for trans people. The pivot to supporting the LGBTQ incarcerated community came out of need—trans prisoners were not given access to constitutionally mandated healthcare.
Gaither sought a legal organization to help, but no one stepped in—they didn’t have expertise. So, Gaither figured it out herself.
As TPI continued to support incarcerated, queer Texans, the letters kept rolling in. Gaither quickly realized her correspondences told a story: definable instances of assault, misconduct, or abuse.
With permission from those she corresponded with and help from volunteers, Gaither started tracking it. “We’re hearing from people reporting violence to us,” says Gaither, “we ought to log these.” TPI also tracks demographic information alongside instances of abuse and violence, all of which are publicly accessible.
“It started off as just a spreadsheet, and then it eventually grew over the years into a database,” says Gaither, who constructed the MySQL database for the project.
Gaither’s work especially focuses on the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA), which ostensibly includes specific protections for transgender people.
To be compliant with PREA, prisons must be audited once every three years. Numerous investigations have shown that these audits are often not effective. TPI has filed numerous complaints with the PREA Resource Center, demonstrating inaccuracies or bias, in addition to tracking thousands of PREA-related incidents.
“We are trying to use our data to show the audits are ineffective,” says Gaither.
Gaither has been thinking about data since she was a teenager. She describes using a computer for the first time in the 1970s and being bored with everything except for dBASE, one of the first database management systems.
“Ever since then, I’ve been fascinated with how you can use data and databases to understand what your work with data,” Gaither says. She went on to get a master’s in Library and Information Sciences and built Resource Center Dallas’s client database for transgender health.
But gathering, let alone analyzing, and disseminating data about queer people imprisoned in Texas has proven a challenge.
Some participants fear retaliation for sharing their experiences, while others face health problems that make pinpointing exact dates or times of assaults difficult.
And, despite being cited by The National PREA Resource Center and Human Rights Clinic at the University of Texas School of Law, Gaither still faces those who think her data “doesn’t seem to have as much legitimacy.”
Stevens lauds Gaither’s data collection methods. “TPI collect their data totally consensually. They write to them first and then turn that data into data legible to the state and in the service of community care.”
This is a stark contrast to the current status quo of data collection, says Dogan, “people, and all of our data, regardless of who you are, is getting scraped.” Data scraping refers to when information is imported from websites – like personal social media pages – and used as data.
AI has accelerated this, says D’Ignazio, “it’s like a massive vacuum cleaning of data across the entire internet. It’s this whole new level and scale of non-consensual technology.”
Gaither’s method of building relationships and direct correspondence is a far cry from data scraping. Volunteers read, respond to, and input information from every letter.
Gaither has become close to some of the people with whom she’s corresponded. Referring to a letter she received in 2013, Gaither says: “I still write to her. We’ve known each other for a long time. I consider her to be my friend.”
Her data is queer not simply in its content, but in how she chooses to keep the queer community centered in the process. “I feel very close to her so that makes the data more meaningful. It has a human component behind it,” says Gaither.
Guyan says that data can be seen as a “currency” since it has power. But he emphasizes that “people’s lives are messy, they’re complicated, they’re nuanced, they’re caveated, and a data exercise that relies on only ones and zeros can’t necessarily capture the full complexity and diversity of these lives.”
While Gaither tallies and sorts the incidents of violence, so it is legible as this “currency,” she also grapples with the nuance of the situations behind the scenes. “It’s my family that I’m working with. I think it makes it more significant from a personal level,” says Gaither.
Guyan explains that queer data is not just about the content, but the methods. “You can adopt a queer lens in terms of thinking critically about the method you use when collecting, analyzing, and presenting all types of data.”
(This story is part of the Digital Equity Local Voices Fellowship lab through News is Out. The lab initiative is made possible with support from Comcast NBCUniversal.)
New York
Court orders Pride flag to return to Stonewall
Lambda Legal, Washington Litigation Group filed federal lawsuit
The Pride flag will once again fly over the Stonewall National Monument in New York following a court order requiring the National Park Service to raise it over the site.
The decision follows a lawsuit filed by Lambda Legal and the Washington Litigation Group in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York, which challenged the removal as unconstitutional under the Administrative Procedure Act and argued that the government unlawfully targeted the LGBTQ community.
In February, the NPS removed the Pride flag from the Stonewall National Monument, the first national monument dedicated to LGBTQ rights and history in the U.S. The move followed a Jan. 21 memorandum issued by President Donald Trump-appointed NPS Director Jessica Bowron restricting which flags may be flown at national parks. The directive limited displays to official government flags, with narrow exceptions for those deemed to serve an “official purpose.”
Plaintiffs successfully argued that the Pride flag meets that standard, given Stonewall’s status as the birthplace of the modern LGBTQ rights movement. They also contended that the policy violated the APA by bypassing required public input and improperly applying agency rules.
The lawsuit named Interior Secretary Doug Burgum, Bowron, and Amy Sebring, superintendent of Manhattan sites for the NPS, as defendants. Plaintiffs included the Gilbert Baker Foundation, Village Preservation, Equality New York, and several individuals.
The court found that the memorandum — while allowing limited exceptions for historical context purposes — was applied unlawfully in this case. As part of the settlement, the NPS is required to rehang the Pride flag on the monument’s official flagpole within seven days, where it will remain permanently.
“The sudden, arbitrary, and capricious removal of the Pride flag from the Stonewall National Monument was yet another act by this administration to erase the LGBTQ+ community,” said Karen Loewy, co-counsel for plaintiffs and Lambda Legal’s Senior Counsel and Director of Constitutional Law Practice. “Today, the government has pledged to restore this important symbol back to where it belongs.”
“This is a complete victory for our clients and for the LGBTQ+ community,” said Alexander Kristofcak, lead counsel for plaintiffs and a lawyer with Washington Litigation Group. “The government has acknowledged what we argued from day one: the Pride flag belongs at Stonewall. The flag will be restored and it will fly officially and permanently. And we will remain vigilant to ensure that the government sticks to the deal.”
“Gilbert Baker created the Rainbow Pride flag as a symbol of hope and liberation,” said Charles Beal, president of the Gilbert Baker Foundation. “Today, that symbol is restored to the place where it belongs, standing watch over the birthplace of the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement.”
“The government tried to erase an important symbol of the LGBTQ+ community, and the community said no,” said Amanda Babine, executive director of Equality New York. “Today’s accomplishment proves that when we stand together and fight back, we win.”
“The removal of the Pride flag from Stonewall was an attempt to erase LGBTQ+ history and undermine the rule of law,” said Andrew Berman, executive director of Village Preservation. “This settlement restores both.”
With Loewy on the complaint are Douglas F. Curtis, Camilla B. Taylor, Omar Gonzalez-Pagan, Kenneth D. Upton Jr., Jennifer C. Pizer, and Nephetari Smith from Lambda Legal. With Kristofcak on the complaint are Mary L. Dohrmann, Sydney Foster, Kyle Freeny, James I. Pearce, and Nathaniel Zelinsky from Washington Litigation Group.
Federal Government
Trump budget targets ‘gender extremism’
Proposed spending package would target ‘leftist’ political ideologies
The White House submitted its 2027 budget request to Congress last month, outlining a push for the Federal Bureau of Investigation to “proactively” target what it describes as “extremism” related to gender — raising concerns about the potential for law enforcement to target LGBTQ people.
The Trump-Vance administration’s 2027 budget request, submitted to Congress on April 4, proposes a dramatic increase in national security and law enforcement spending, while reducing foreign aid and restructuring multiple domestic security programs. In total, the administration is requesting $2.16 trillion in discretionary budget authority (including mandatory resources), a 15.3 percent increase over the 2026 proposal.
Central to the proposal is the creation of a new “NSPM-7 Joint Mission Center,” a direct follow-up to the September 2025 National Security Presidential Memorandum 7 (NSPM-7). The directive instructs the Justice Department, the FBI, and other national security agencies to combat what the administration defines as “political violence in America,” effectively reshaping the Joint Terrorism Task Force network to focus on “leftist” political ideologies, according to reporting by independent journalist Ken Klippenstein.
The American Civil Liberties Union has characterized NSPM-7 as a way for President Donald Trump to intimidate his political enemies.
In a press release following the memorandum, Hina Shamsi, director of the ACLU’s National Security Project, said, “President Trump has launched yet another effort to investigate and intimidate his critics,” and had described the move as an “intimidation tactic against those standing up for human rights and civil liberties.”
The proposed mission center would include personnel from 10 federal agencies tasked with targeting “domestic terrorists” associated with a wide range of ideologies. Among them is what the administration labels “extremism” related to gender, alongside categories such as “anti-Americanism,” “anti-capitalism,” “anti-Christianity,” and “support for the overthrow of the U.S. government.” The document also cites “hostility toward those who hold traditional American views” on family, religion, and morality — language LGBTQ advocates have increasingly warned could be used to frame queer and transgender rights movements as ideological threats.
The mission center is one component of a proposed $166 million increase in the FBI’s counterterrorism budget.
In total, the FBI would receive $12.5 billion for salaries and expenses under the proposal, a $1.9 billion increase. Planned investments include unmanned aerial systems operations and counter-drone capabilities, counterterrorism efforts, and security preparations for the 2028 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. The budget also cites 67,000 FBI arrests since Jan. 20, 2026, which it describes as a 197 percent increase from the prior year.
When Congress passed the USA PATRIOT Act in 2001, it also enacted 18 U.S.C. § 2331(5), which defines domestic terrorism as activities involving acts dangerous to human life that violate criminal laws and are intended to intimidate or coerce civilians or influence government policy through violence. That statutory definition has not changed.
However, federal agencies have historically categorized domestic terrorism threats into groups such as racially or ethnically motivated violent extremism, anti-government or anti-authority violent extremism, and other threats, including those tied to bias based on religion, gender, or sexual orientation.
The language in the budget suggests a shift in how those categories are interpreted and applied — particularly by explicitly linking “extremism” to gender and to perceived opposition to “traditional” views — without any corresponding change to federal law. Only Congress has the power to change the definition of domestic terrorism by passing legislation.
The budget document states:
“DT lone offenders will continue to pose significant detection and disruption challenges because of their capacity for independent radicalization to violence, ability to mobilize discretely, and access to firearms. Additionally, in recent years, heinous assassinations and other acts of political violence in the United States have dramatically increased. Commonly, this violent conduct relates to views associated with anti-Americanism, anti-capitalism, and anti-Christianity; support for the overthrow of the U.S. government; extremism on migration, race, and gender; and hostility toward those who hold traditional American views on family, religion, and morality.”
This language echoes earlier actions by the Trump-Vance administration targeting trans people.
On the first day of his second term, President Trump signed Executive Order 14168, titled “Defending Women from Gender Ideology Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government.”
The order establishes a strict binary definition of sex and withdraws federal recognition of trans people.
“It is the policy of the United States to recognize two sexes, male and female,” the order states. “‘Sex’ shall refer to an individual’s immutable biological classification as either male or female. ‘Sex’ is not a synonym for and does not include the concept of ‘gender identity.’”
Appropriations committees in both chambers are expected to begin hearings in the coming weeks.
Puerto Rico
The ‘X’ returns to court
1st Circuit hears case over legal recognition of nonbinary Puerto Ricans
Eight months ago, I wrote about this issue at a time when it had not yet reached the judicial level it faces today. Back then, the conversation moved through administrative decisions, public debate, and political resistance. It was unresolved, but it had not yet reached this point.
That has now changed.
Lambda Legal appeared before the 1st U.S. Court of Appeals in Boston, urging the court to uphold a lower court ruling that requires the government of Puerto Rico to issue birth certificates that accurately reflect the identities of nonbinary individuals. The appeal follows a district court decision that found the denial of such recognition to be a violation of the U.S. Constitution.
This marks a turning point. The issue is no longer theoretical. A court has already determined that unequal treatment exists.
The argument presented by the plaintiffs is grounded in Puerto Rico’s own legal framework. Identity birth certificates are not static historical records. They are functional documents used in everyday life. They are required to access employment, education, and essential services. Their purpose is practical, not symbolic.
Within that framework, the exclusion of nonbinary individuals does not stem from a legal limitation. Puerto Rico already allows gender marker corrections on birth certificates for transgender individuals under the precedent established in Arroyo Gonzalez v. Rosselló Nevares. In addition, the current Civil Code recognizes the existence of identity documents that reflect a person’s lived identity beyond the original birth record.
The issue lies in how the law is applied.
Recognition is granted within specific categories, while those who do not identify within that binary structure remain excluded. That exclusion is now at the center of this case.
Lambda Legal’s position is straightforward. Requiring individuals to carry documents that do not reflect who they are forces them into misrepresentation in essential aspects of daily life. This creates practical barriers, exposes them to scrutiny, and places them in a constant state of vulnerability.
The plaintiffs, who were born in Puerto Rico, have made clear that access to accurate identification is not symbolic. It is a basic condition for moving through the world without contradiction imposed by the state.
The fact that this case is now being addressed in the federal court system adds another layer of significance. This is not a pending policy discussion or a legislative proposal. It is a constitutional question. The analysis is not about political preference, but about rights and equal protection under the law.
This case does not exist in isolation.
It unfolds within a broader context in which debates over identity and rights have increasingly been shaped by the growing influence of conservative perspectives in public policy, both in the United States and in Puerto Rico. At the local level, this influence has been reflected in legislative discussions where religious arguments have begun to intersect with decisions that should be grounded in constitutional principles. That intersection creates tension around the separation of church and state and has direct consequences for access to rights.
Recognizing this context is not an attack on faith or religious practice. It is an acknowledgment that when certain perspectives move into the realm of public authority, they can shape outcomes that affect specific communities.
From within Puerto Rico, this is not a distant debate. It is a lived reality. It is present in the difficulty of presenting identification that does not match one’s identity, and in the consequences that follow in workplaces, schools, and government spaces.
The progression of this case introduces the possibility of change within the applicable legal framework. Not because it resolves every tension surrounding the issue, but because it establishes a legal examination of a practice that has long operated under exclusion.
Eight months ago, the conversation centered on ongoing developments. Today, there is already a judicial finding that identifies a violation of rights. What remains is whether that finding will be upheld on appeal.
That process does not guarantee an immediate outcome, but it shifts the ground.
The debate is no longer theoretical.
It is now before the courts.
