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Our existence is non-negotiable: A call to action for trans rights 

Your vote is an act of defiance

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(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

BY MARCUS DAVIS | Over the past four decades, I’ve witnessed a transformation in our society that once seemed unimaginable. As a child of the 80s, being transgender meant living under a constant shadow of fear, with violence and exclusion always nearby. But we fought back. We organized, we carved out spaces where trans people could live with more freedom.

This fight for recognition and safety has been long and arduous. In 2002, New York passed the Sexual Orientation Non-Discrimination Act (SONDA), but transgender people were deliberately left out — a painful compromise that left us exposed. I remember the mixture of hope and frustration during those years, as I attended my first community meetings and rallies. Our focus shifted to passing the Gender Expression Non-Discrimination Act (GENDA). Each legislative delay was a stark reminder that our rights were not a priority. For Black trans people like myself, the stakes were even higher, as we navigated multiple layers of discrimination without legal protection.

GENDA finally passed in 2019, but that victory came after years of being told our safety and dignity were negotiable. Now, as anti-trans laws sweep the country, I feel that familiar shadow looming again. These bills banning gender-affirming care, forcing schools to out trans students, and criminalizing our existence aren’t just policy decisions — they’re calculated efforts to erase us, to drive us back into fear and silence. The darkness we thought we’d escaped is closing in, and this time, it’s targeting our youth.

As a trans person working at the forefront of racial justice with the Movement for Black Lives, I have witnessed how anti-trans laws amplify the oppression already faced by the most vulnerable members of our community. This fight is more than a cause for me, it is about protecting the lives and futures of my community, my family, and myself. Here I want to simply say: To every trans person feeling the weight of these laws, feeling isolated or afraid; You are not alone. You are part of a legacy of resilience, of beauty, of revolution. Your life is precious, your identity is valid, and your future is worth fighting for. Together, we will weather this storm. Together, we will build the world we deserve — a world where every one of us can stand in the fullness of our identities, unafraid and unapologetic. Our freedom is bound up together, and together, we will win. 

Our survival depends on our ability to understand these threats and mobilize against them. Knowledge is our weapon, and action is our shield.

Erasing our existence: The battle in education

Imagine Aisha, a 14-year-old trans girl in South Carolina, navigating a school system shaped by current anti-trans laws. Under H.3730, passed by the Republican-controlled House and signed into law by the Republican governor, Aisha’s daily life at school has become a minefield. Each day, she enters a classroom where her teachers are legally bound to deny her identity. The simple act of asking to be called by her chosen name could trigger a mandatory report to her family, exposing her to rejection and isolation at home. Even her allies, teachers who might have offered comfort, are forced into silence, unable to provide the affirmation and protection she so desperately needs. The school, once a place of potential, has become a space of fear and surveillance.

Now imagine Aisha is also Black. The weight of these laws compounds with the systemic racism she might also be facing. For Aisha, each classroom can become a minefield where both her gender and racial identities can be scrutinized or challenged. These laws don’t just isolate; they amplify existing prejudices, embolden discrimination, and silence allies. They broadcast a clear message to students like Aisha: You are not welcome here. 

A matter of life and death: The healthcare battlefield

For Aisha and thousands of trans youth like her, healthcare isn’t just about feeling seen — it’s a lifeline. Gender-affirming care, particularly puberty blockers, gives young trans people the time and space to explore their identities safely, delaying the permanent physical changes that come with puberty. This care offers trans youth the gift of a pause, preventing the distress of their bodies developing in ways that don’t align with their gender. But across the country, these lifelines are being cut. In states like South Carolina, laws banning puberty blockers for minors are leaving young people trapped in bodies they cannot recognize or accept.

For young people like Aisha, the barriers to care are even more devastating. Already navigating a healthcare system rife with racial bias, Black trans people often struggle to access affirming care. Now, with these bans, even that limited access is being stripped away. Without puberty blockers, Aisha is forced to endure the changes of puberty that feel alien and distressing, deepening her sense of isolation. These laws don’t just deny treatment — they send a message that her identity is something to be punished, not supported.

The consequences are deadly. Transgender youth already face alarmingly high rates of mental health challenges, with studies showing that over half of trans teens have seriously considered suicide. Yet, access to gender-affirming care dramatically reduces this risk. According to research from the Trevor Project, trans youth who receive gender-affirming care are significantly less likely to attempt suicide compared to those who want care and are unable to access it. Lawmakers who strip away this care are not just endangering the well-being of these young people, they are pushing them toward life-threatening crises. For Black trans youth, who often lack strong support networks, the denial of care can push them to the edge. This is not just a political debate — it’s a matter of survival.

Our resilience is our strength

In the face of this relentless onslaught, it would be easy to lose hope. But trans people, especially Black trans people, have always lived in defiance of the systems designed to erase us. Our very existence is an act of resistance.

But resistance alone is not enough. We don’t resist just to make a point — we resist because our lives depend on it. We resist because we envision a world where trans children can grow up without fear, where Black trans lives are valued and protected, where our identities are celebrated rather than criminalized.

To build this world, we — trans people and our allies — must transform challenge into change. We must convert our anger into action. Every time they try to erase us from classrooms, we show up louder and prouder in our communities. Every time they attempt to deny us healthcare, we fight harder for universal access to affirming care. Every time they try to silence us, we speak our truths more boldly.

We cannot afford silence. On Nov. 5 and in every election — from the presidency to your local school board — your vote is an act of defiance. By casting your ballot, you are directly challenging the systems and laws designed to erase trans people from public life. 

Visit m4bl.link/VOTE to make your voting plan. Choose candidates who most closely align with your values. These may not be your ideal options. The political landscape is complex, and no candidate is perfect. But make no mistake — there is a clear difference in values between the choices before us. We’ve come too far, fought too hard, and have too much at stake to back down now. Our health is non-negotiable. Our education is our right. Our lives are sacred. And we will continue to fight, to love, to thrive, not in the shadows, but in the full light of day. 

Marcus Davis is the director of integrated technology at the Movement for Black Lives, where he oversees cybersecurity, and digital infrastructure to support nationwide movement building and community empowerment.

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Commentary

The power of no

Pick one priority this year, not 10

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(Photo by Damian Palus/Bigstock)

January arrives with optimism. New year energy. Fresh possibilities. A belief that this could finally be the year things change. And every January, I watch people respond to that optimism the same way. By adding.

More workouts. More structure. More goals. More commitments. More pressure to transform. We add healthier meals. We add more family time. We add more career focus. We add more boundaries. We add more growth. Somewhere along the way, transformation becomes a list instead of a direction.

But what no one talks about enough is this: You can only receive what you actually have space for. You don’t have unlimited energy. You have 100 percent. That’s it.  Not 120. Not 200. Not grind harder and magically find more.

Your body knows this even if your calendar ignores it. Your nervous system knows it even if your ambition doesn’t want to admit it. When you try to pour more into a cup that’s already full, something spills. Usually it’s your peace. Or your consistency. Or your health.

What I’ve learned over time is that most people don’t need more motivation. They need clarity. Not more goals, but priority. Not more opportunity, but discernment.

So this January, instead of asking what you’re going to add, I want to offer something different. What if this year becomes a season of no.

No to things that drain you. No to things that distract you. No to things that look good on paper but don’t feel right in your body. And to make this real, here’s how you actually do it.

Identify your one true priority and protect it

Most people struggle with saying no because they haven’t clearly said yes to anything first. When everything matters, nothing actually does. Pick one priority for this season. Not 10. One.  Once you identify it, everything else gets filtered through that lens. Does this support my priority, or does it compete with it?

Earlier this year, I had two leases in my hands. One for Shaw and one for National Landing in Virginia. From the outside, the move felt obvious. Growth is celebrated. Expansion is rewarded. More locations look like success. But my gut and my nervous system told me I couldn’t do both.

Saying no felt like failure at first. It felt like I was slowing down when I was supposed to be speeding up. But what I was really doing was choosing alignment over optics.

I knew what I was capable of thriving in. I knew my limits. I knew my personal life mattered. My boyfriend mattered. My family mattered. My physical health mattered. My mental health mattered. Looking back now, saying no was one of the best decisions I could have made for myself and for my team.

If something feels forced, rushed, or misaligned, trust that signal. If it’s meant for you, it will come back when the timing is right.

Look inside before you look outside

So many of us are chasing who we think we’re supposed to be— who the city needs us to be. Who social media rewards. Who our resume says we should become next. But clarity doesn’t come from noise. It comes from stillness. Moments of silence. Moments of gratitude. Moments where your nervous system can settle. Your body already knows who you are long before your ego tries to upgrade you.  

One of the most powerful phrases I ever practiced was simple: You are enough.

I said it for years before I believed it. And when I finally did, everything shifted. I stopped chasing growth just to prove something. I stopped adding just to feel worthy.  I could maintain. I could breathe. I could be OK where I was.

Gerard from Baltimore was enough. Anything else I added became extra.

Turning 40 made this clearer than ever. My twenties were about finding myself. My thirties were about proving myself. My forties are about being myself.

I wish I knew then what I know now. I hope the 20 year olds catch it early. I hope the 30 year olds don’t wait as long as I did.

Because the only way to truly say yes to yourself is by saying no first.

Remove more than you add

Before you write your resolutions, try this. If you plan to add three things this year, identify six things you’re willing to remove. Habits. Distractions. Commitments. Energy leaks.

Maybe growth doesn’t look like expansion for you this year. Maybe it looks like focus. Maybe it looks like honoring your limits. January isn’t asking you to become superhuman. It’s asking you to become intentional. And sometimes the most powerful word you can say for your future is no.

With love always, Coach G.


Gerard Burley, also known as Coach G, is founder and CEO of Sweat DC.

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Greenland

The Greenland lesson for LGBTQ people

Playbook is the same for our community and Europeans

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(Photo by Maridav/Bigstock)

I understand my own geopolitical limits and don’t pretend to know how Europeans should respond to U.S. threats to seize Greenland or retaliate against anyone who opposes them. However, as I mentioned in March, it’s clear that for Europeans and LGBTQ+ people alike, hug-and-kiss diplomacy is over.

In practice, that means responding to the U.S. administration’s provocations with dialogue, human‑rights rhetoric, and reasoning may now be counterproductive. It looks weak. At some point, Europeans will have to draw a line and show how bullying allies and breaking international agreements carry a cost — and that the cost is unpredictable. On the surface, they have few options; like LGBTQ+ communities, they are very behind in raw power and took too long to wake up. But they still have leverage, and they can still inflict harm.​

Maybe it is time for them to call the bluff. America has a great deal to lose, not least its reputation and credibility on the world stage. Stephen Miller and Pete Hegseth, with all their bravado, obviously underestimate both the short‑ and long‑term geopolitical price of ridicule. Force the United States to contemplate sending troops into an ally’s territory, and let the consequences play out in international opinion, institutions, and markets.​

In the United States, LGBTQ+ communities have already endured a cascade of humiliations and live under constant threat of more. In 2025 our symbols and heroes were systematically erased or defaced: the USNS Harvey Milk was quietly renamed after a straight war hero, Admiral Rachel Levine’s title and image were scrubbed from official materials, Pride flags were banned from public buildings, World AIDS Day events were defunded or stripped of queer content, the Orlando memorial and other sites of mourning were targeted, the U.S. lead a campaign against LGBTQ+ language at the U.N., and rainbow crosswalks were literally ripped up or painted over. We cannot simply register our distress; we must articulate a response.​

In practice, that means being intentional and focused. We should select a few unmistakable examples: a company that visibly broke faith with us, a vulnerable political figure whose actions demand consequences, and an institution that depends on constituencies that still need us. The tools matter less than the concentration of force — boycotts, shaming, targeted campaigning all qualify — so long as crossing certain lines produces visible, memorable costs.​

A friend suggested we create what he called a “c***t committee.” I liked the discipline it implies: a deliberate, collective decision to carefully select a few targets and follow through. We need a win badly in 2026.

These thoughts are part of a broader reflection on the character of our movement I’d like to explore in the coming months. My friends know that anger and sarcasm carried me for a long time, but eventually delivered diminishing returns. I am incrementally changing these aspects of my character that stand in the way of my goals. The movement is in a similar place: the tactics that served us best are losing effectiveness because the terrain has shifted. The Greenland moment clarifies that we must have a two-pronged approach: building long-term power and, in the short term, punching a few people in the nose.

Fabrice Houdart published this column on his weekly Substack newsletter. The Washington Blade has republished it with his permission.

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Media obsess over ‘Heated Rivalry’ sex but ignore problem of homophobia in sports

4 major men’s leagues lack gay representation 13 years after Jason Collins came out

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Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie star in 'Heated Rivalry.' (Photo courtesy of Crave/HBO Max)

The mainstream media are agog over “Heated Rivalry,” the surprise hit HBO Max limited series about two professional hockey players who fall in love. 

The show’s stars, Connor Storrie (Ilya) and Hudson Williams (Shane), are everywhere — red carpets, award shows, morning news and late night shows. Female fans lined up for hours to catch a glimpse of Storrie, who appeared on the “Today” show last week. 

The interviews and coverage predictably involve lots of innuendo and snickering about the graphic sex scenes in the show. Storrie and Williams have played coy about their real-life sexual orientation, a subject of debate among some gay fans who would prefer they own their sexuality if, in fact, they are gay. 

But the big issue ignored by the media that the show tackles is the crippling effect of homophobia and the closet — not just on professional athletes but on anyone who isn’t comfortable being out at work. And it’s a growing problem given the hostile Trump administration. Attacks on LGBTQ people and the roll back of DEI and related protections are driving many Americans back into the closet, especially in D.C.’s large federal workforce. 

And the mainstream media seem totally unaware that there has never been an openly gay NHL player. Hell, there’s never even been a retired NHL player who came out. 

It’s a sad fact that I would not have predicted 13 years ago when Jason Collins bravely came out publicly while playing in the NBA, the first male athlete in the big four U.S. sports to do so. His announcement was widely covered in the mainstream media and Collins was even named to Time magazine’s “100 Most Influential People” list in 2014.

Then in February 2014, Michael Sam became the first openly gay player to be drafted into the NFL. He was released before the season began and did not play. But still, Sam’s decision to come out was celebrated. It felt like professional male sports was changing and finally shaking off its ingrained homophobia. Many of us awaited a flood of young professional athletes coming out publicly. And we waited. And waited. Then, seven years later, in June 2021, Carl Nassib came out, becoming the first active NFL player to do so. He was with the Las Vegas Raiders at the time and also became the first out player to play in the playoffs. He was released in the offseason and picked up by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in 2022 and retired the following year. 

And that is the short history of out professional male athletes in the big four U.S. sports. (Women’s sports is a different story with many examples of out lesbian and bi players.) 

Sure, some pro athletes have come out after retiring, most notably Billy Bean, who went on to a long and successful career advocating from within for gay representation in Major League Baseball as the league’s vice president and ambassador for inclusion and later as senior vice president and special assistant to the commissioner.

But that’s a sorry record and professional sports leagues should redouble their efforts at making gay players (and fans) feel welcome. From fully embracing Pride nights again to adopting zero tolerance policies for hate speech, there’s much more work to be done to make it easier for pro male athletes to come out.  

“Heated Rivalry” star Williams recently told an interviewer that he has received private messages from closeted active pro athletes in multiple sports who don’t feel they can come out. How sad that in 2026, even the most successful (and wealthy) among us still feel compelled to hide in the closet. 

Let’s hope that “Heated Rivalry,” which has been renewed for a second season, sparks a more enlightened conversation about the closet and the need to foster affirming workplaces in professional sports and beyond.


Kevin Naff is editor of the Washington Blade. Reach him at [email protected].

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