Opinions
Meth is still ravaging the LGBTQ community, we must address the crisis
Queer people at least twice as likely to use drug than straight counterparts
As the opioid epidemic continues to dominate national news, another urgent crisis is wreaking havoc in communities throughout the United States. Methamphetamine addiction is on the rise, and it’s hitting communities hard, especially the LGBTQ+ community.
November 30 is National Methamphetamine Awareness Day, a poignant time to raise the alarm about the devastating impact of this drug and the reasons behind its growing prevalence within the LGBTQ+ community.
Based on 2020 and 2021 data compiled by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), sexual minorities (gay, lesbian, or bisexual) adults were at least twice as likely to use stimulants in the past year as their heterosexual counterparts. Gay men were over four times more likely than straight men to have used meth in the past year.
As a mental health counselor and coordinator of the LGBTQ+ program at River Oaks Treatment Center in South Florida, I know firsthand how devastating meth addiction in this marginalized demographic can be. The National Institute on Drug Abuse notes that sexual minorities tend to enter treatment with more severe substance use disorders than those who identify as heterosexual, and I often find this to be the case in our patient population as well. Our LGBTQ+ patients face numerous challenges that may lead to substance use as a means of coping, such as discrimination, stigma, and trauma.
Our LGBTQ+ patients talk often about feeling their needs and experiences are invalidated by those around them. Constantly feeling unsafe or unable to live as one’s true self at a young age can have a lasting impact on a person’s mental health and is a risk factor for problematic substance use as a tool to manage shame and emotional pain.
Another complicating factor is that for many queer people, there are few safe spaces, and one of the first ones they encounter is gay bars, where drinking and/or substance use is the norm. Meth is popular in gay nightclubs and parties because it causes euphoria, increases libido, and raises energy, enabling people to party for many hours before crashing. But while use of the drug often begins voluntarily, it quickly becomes compulsive and very difficult to quit.
The brain quickly learns to link certain people, places, and activities with drug use, triggering uncontrollable cravings. Meth use is ubiquitous in the social circles or “chosen families” of some sexual and gender minorities, making avoiding the drug uniquely difficult. Quitting meth may require them cutting ties and breaking contact with people they’ve come to love and care about deeply.
Our LGBTQ+ patients sometimes express fear they won’t be able to experience sex and other activities in the same way once they quit using meth. Indeed, it can take some time for someone’s brain and body to return to normalcy after quitting. Methamphetamine has a profound effect on dopamine activity, a brain chemical associated with motivation and the urge to repeat pleasurable activities. Over time, this effect can limit someone’s ability to experience pleasure from healthy activities.
The effects of chronic meth use and withdrawal also complicate the early treatment and recovery process. Intense paranoia — a common long-term effect of meth use — makes it very difficult to trust people, a crucial facet of treatment that is necessary for building relationships with counselors, mentors, and peers.
Distrust of clinicians and treatment programs is often heightened among LGBTQ+ patients, who often face even more stigma when entering treatment programs and have a distrust of institutions like law enforcement, which they may associate with addiction treatment. To further this point, some of our patients have had bad experiences in the past and worry about treatment being safe for them. Many of our LGBTQ+ patients also have complicated relationships with their families who might otherwise form the foundation of their support network in recovery.
These obstacles highlight the importance of specialized LGBTQ+ addiction treatment programs, in which patients are surrounded by peers who can relate to their experiences. It’s crucial that treatment centers don’t just claim to be accepting of sexual and gender minorities but do the necessary work to make these patients feel safe and welcome, protecting them from harassment and mistreatment from both staff and other patients.
These programs also must work to address common issues that co-occur with addiction among LGBTQ+ patients, such as trauma, emotional turmoil, and interpersonal conflicts. For example, utilizing effective, evidence-based therapeutic approaches, such as dialectical behavior therapy (DBT).
DBT is among the techniques we use in our programs. Originally developed to treat borderline personality disorder (BPD), DBT has been expanded to treat many mental health disorders that involve emotional dysregulation, which is something we often see among our patients in early recovery from meth addiction.
The approach functions to enhance one’s capabilities to regulate emotions, practice mindfulness, improve interpersonal effectiveness, and strengthen distress tolerance before practicing these skills and encouraging patients to apply them in their daily lives. DBT also works to improve a patient’s motivation to track and reduce their dysfunctional behaviors.
On a nationwide level, it will take significant work to disentangle the grip of methamphetamine on the LGBTQ+ community. With the pervasiveness of illicitly manufactured fentanyl — a synthetic opioid that causes overdose in very small doses — in the drug supply, the need for action has never been more immediate.
A large part of this work involves changing the perception of society toward methamphetamine addiction and especially queer people who struggle with this disease. Rather than viewing it as a moral failure, we need to see it for what it truly is: A public health crisis. Much like at the start of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the disease of addiction is heavily stigmatized and too often, we place blame on those who are impacted rather than taking effective action to curb the crisis.
In addition to culturally competent addiction treatment, we desperately need more sober, safe spaces for the LGBTQ+ community. Upon exiting treatment, many find themselves on uncertain ground and in desperate need of sober friendships and networks that support their recovery. Substance-free community centers provide a useful model that can be implemented on a larger scale.
While these are trying times, I sincerely believe we can make a profound difference by confronting this issue with compassion and understanding. It will take a multi-faceted approach that involves the cooperation of treatment centers, queer people in recovery, allies, and the broader LGBTQ+ community.
Karah Moody, LMHC, CPP, MCAP, is a counselor and LGBTQ2+ Coordinator at River Oaks Treatment Center, an American Addiction Centers facility.
Opinions
The latest Supreme Court case erasing LGBTQ identity
Chiles v. Salazar a major setback for movement
In its recent decision in Chiles v. Salazar, the U.S. Supreme Court invalidated Colorado’s law prohibiting licensed counselors from engaging in efforts to change the sexual orientation or gender identity of minors. The decision, which puts into question similar laws in 22 other states, relied on the First Amendment to hold that the law violates counselors’ free speech rights. But the decision also strikes a blow against LGBTQ dignity, a point the court’s opinion does not even address.
The eight-member majority, which included Justices Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor, who usually side with LGBTQ groups, justified its reasoning by suggesting that the law was one-sided: it permitted treatment that affirms LGBTQ identity but forbade treatment that seeks to change it. But the law is one-sided, as Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson’s lone dissent pointed out, because the medical evidence only supports one side: reams of research show that “survivors of conversion therapy continue to suffer from PTSD, anxiety, and suicidal ideation.” And major medical associations all agree, no evidence demonstrates the efficacy of conversion efforts. This isn’t surprising. Medicine often take sides — some treatments work, and some don’t.
But particularly concerning is the vision of LGBTQ identity that undergirds the majority opinion when compared to the dissent. Justice Jackson’s dissent explains that LGBTQ identity is simply “a part of the normal spectrum of human diversity” — not something to be “cured.” By contrast, for the majority, how best to help LGBTQ minors is “a subject of fierce public debate.” That can hardly be the case if LGBTQ identity stands on equal ground with straight, cisgender identity, or if LGBTQ people are as deserving of safety, rights, and dignity.
Indeed, the LGBTQ rights movement only began in earnest when advocates in the 1960s decided to end the “debate” over gay identity. Until then, community leaders would routinely cooperate with psychiatrists who were interested in researching homosexuality as a medical condition. A new generation of activists, led by Frank Kameny, a key movement founder, began arguing that this got the issue upside down: Rather than wondering if they could be “cured,” LGBTQ people had to assert a right to their identity. As Kameny put it—“we have been defined into sickness.” Only once the case was made that it was society that had to change, and not LGBTQ people, could LGBTQ consciousness, LGBTQ pride and LGBTQ rights develop. Their activism led to the first Pride parade in New York, and the official declassification of homosexuality as a disease in 1973.
The Supreme Court’s conservatives don’t just want to reignite this half-century old medical “debate”; they also treat medical claims that undermine LGBTQ identity very differently from those who support it. Last year, in an opinion backingTennessee’s law that banned gender affirming care for minors, the court sympathetically marched through the reasons Tennessee offered for “why States may rightly be skeptical” of such care, and cited three times, in some detail, to “health authorities in a number of European countries” (that is, some Nordic countries and the UK) that had curbed pediatric care. It failed to mention that most of Western Europe and every major American medical association provides access to this care.
In Chiles, by contrast, the court cites none of the evidence that Colorado amassed that conversion therapy harms LGBTQ children. None of the countries that the court had invoked to justify anti-trans policies allow conversion therapy in their health care systems (indeed, one of them criminalizes such practices). So rather than cite medical evidence, the court simply asked — why trust medical evidence at all? “What if,” asks the court, “reflexive deference to currently prevailing professional views [does] not always end well?” and cites an infamous 1927 Supreme Court case, Buck v. Bell.
In Buck, the Supreme Court embraced eugenic reasoning, backing a eugenic state law that allowed the sterilization of individuals with mental disabilities, on the grounds that such disabilities were hereditary. As Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes opined, “three generations of imbeciles are enough.” Look at what happens when we listen to medical expertise, today’s court seems to say, as an excuse to disregard the LGBTQ-affirming medical evidence they don’t like.
But the court has missed the key lesson of Buck. The law at issue in Buckdiscriminated against a certain group, seeking, through sterilization measures, to erase it from existence. Indeed, LGBTQ people (whom doctors of the day would have referred to as sexual “inverts”) were exactly the kind of people that the eugenic program of Bucksought to eliminate. Conversion therapy seeks similar erasure.
The lesson of the 1960s LGBTQ rights movement remains as relevant today as it was then. Without an unapologetic LGBTQ identity, LGBTQ Pride, LGBTQ rights and the LGBTQ movement itself can all founder. By supporting only the anti-LGBTQ side in this medical saga — and by suggesting that LGBTQ existence is subject to medical debate at all — the court is reaffirming, rather than repudiating, minority erasure.
Craig Konnoth is a professor of law at University of Virginia School of Law.
I was disappointed when the Blade didn’t publish my response to a personal attack on me in a column by Hayden Gise, in last week’s print edition. They did publish it online. To be clear, I have no problem with people disagreeing with my columns and opinions. That is absolutely fair. But when they get into personal attacks, it often means they don’t have enough to say about the ideas they are trying to criticize.
In a recent column ‘Why the Democratic Socialists of America are right for D.C.,’ the author decided to attack me personally. Here is the response I wrote to her column:
“I am responding to a column by Hayden Gise who says in her column she is a transgender, lesbian, Jewish, Democratic Socialist, and supports having the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) in Washington, DC. She is definitely as entitled to her view on this, as I am to mine. However, I was surprised she clearly felt it important to use the column to attack me personally, without even knowing me. What she didn’t do is respond to the issues in the DSA platform I wrote having a problem with, and which I asked candidates endorsed by the DSA to respond to. 1. Are they for the abolishment of the State of Israel? 2. What is their definition of a Zionist? 3. What is their definition of antisemitism? 4. Will they meet with Zionist organizations? 5. Do they support BDS? One needs to know when a candidate claims they are only a member of the local DSA, according to the DSA bylaws no person can be a member of a local DSA without being a member of the national organization. So Hayden Gise has a little better idea of who I am she should know: I was a teacher and a union member. I worked for the most progressive member of Congress at the time, Bella S. Abzug (D-N.Y.), and supported her when she introduced the Equality Act in 1974, to protect the rights of the LGBTQ community, and have fought for its passage ever since. I have spent a lifetime fighting for civil rights, women’s rights, disability rights, and LGBTQ rights. I have no idea what Hayden Gise’s background is, or what her history of working for the causes she espouses is. But I would be happy to meet with her to find out. But she should know, I take a back seat to no one in the work I have done over my life fighting for equality, including economic equality, for all. So, I will not attack her, as I don’t know her, and contrary to her, don’t personally attack people I don’t know much about.
“I have, and will continue to attack, what the government of Israel is doing to the Palestinian people, and now to those in Lebanon and Iran. I will also attack the government of my own country, and the felon in the White House, and his sycophants in Congress, for what they are doing to our own people, and people around the world, and will continue to work hard to change things. However, I will also continue to stand for a two-state solution with the continued existence of the State of Israel, calling for a different government in Israel. I also strongly support the Palestinian people and believe they must have the right to their own free state.”
I have not heard from Gise, but I hope she knows that since she wrote her column indicating her support for Janeese Lewis George for mayor, her preferred candidate has attended a birthday party to celebrate a person who still refers to gay people as ‘fags.’
We should not personally attack people we don’t know as a way to criticize their views on an issue. Once again, I have no problem with people disagreeing with what I write, and having the Blade publish those contrary columns. But a plea to all who disagree with any columnist, or story: disagree with the issues and refrain from making personal attacks on the writer. That actually takes away from whatever point you are trying to make.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
Imagine if researchers found that coffee drinking increased your risk of death by more than 50%. The public health response would be immediate – regulations, warnings, a swift mobilization of policy to match the evidence. We would act, because protecting people from documented harm is what evidence-based policy exists to do.
The same logic is why Colorado banned conversion therapy. The science was clear: research from The Trevor Project and others shows that exposure to conversion therapy increases suicidal ideation among LGBTQ+ youth, and more than doubles suicide attempts for transgender youth. Every major medical organization in the country – the American Medical Association, the American Psychological Association, and the American Academy of Pediatrics – has condemned the practice.
Colorado looked at the evidence and did what public health is supposed to do. It intervened.
On March 31, 2026, the Supreme Court struck down that intervention 8-1 in the Chiles v. Salazar case, ruling that conversion therapy is protected speech.
This decision should alarm anyone who believes that science has a role in protecting human lives. The court did not dispute evidence. It did not produce contradicting research or question the methodology of the studies Colorado relied on. Instead, it decided that the ideological underpinnings of conversion therapy deserve more constitutional protection than the children being harmed by it. In doing so, it severed the fundamental link between what science tells us is dangerous and what the law is willing to prohibit.
That severance has consequences far beyond Colorado, as Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson noted in her dissent. More than 20 states and Washington, D.C. have enacted conversion therapy bans. The court majority’s reasoning – that regulating talk-based practices constitutes censorship – hands challengers a blueprint. The scientific consensus that built those protections did not change on March 31, but its power to hold them in place did.
For LGBTQ+ public health researchers like us, this ruling is a reckoning. And a personal one. Both of us came to public health because it offered a way to ask questions that matter: How can we help people live safe, healthy, and happy lives?
As a Ph.D. student and an assistant professor focused on LGBTQ+ health, we have been energized by the possibility that rigorous research could inform policies that protect LGBTQ+ people. The Chiles v. Salazar ruling forces us to recognize something uncomfortable: the possibility of research driving policy is real, but it is not automatic. Evidence reaches policy only when researchers advocate to put it there. As it turns out, scientific evidence itself is not enough.
This means the work of LGBTQ+ health researchers cannot stop at the journal article. It has to extend into the spaces where policy is actually made and public opinion is actually influenced. Researchers must work alongside educators, communicators, and community organizers to make evidence impossible to ignore or misrepresent.
As Sylvia Rivera observed in 1971, “our family and friends have also condemned us because of their lack of true knowledge.” More than 50 years later, misinformation about conversion therapy, gender-affirming care, and LGBTQ+ health still fills the gap that researchers leave when they stay silent.
We also want to say this directly to LGBTQ+ young people: Science has not abandoned you. The evidence of your worth, your health, and your right to be protected is overwhelming and it is not going anywhere. The researchers, clinicians, and advocates who built that evidence are still here and still working to ensure it translates into the protection you deserve.
The Chiles v. Salazar ruling is a serious setback. But it is not the end of the argument.
Science has shown us how conversion therapy causes harm. It has shown us clearly, repeatedly, and with the backing of every credible medical institution in the country. The Supreme Court chose to look away. The only response to that is to make looking away harder. To build a public, cross-sector, science-informed movement that refuses to let evidence be sidelined when lives are on the line.
The evidence is on our side. Now, we have to make sure it counts.
Vincenzo Malo is a Health Services Ph.D. student at the University of Washington’s School of Public Health who studies affirming health systems. Dr. Harry Barbee is an assistant professor in the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health whose research focuses on LGBTQ+ health, aging, and public policy.
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