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What does Trudeau’s resignation mean for the queer community?

Be careful what you wish for

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Justin Trudeau marches at Toronto Pride in 2015, months before being elected prime minister. (Photo courtesy of Rob Salerno)

LGBTQ Global originally published this commentary. The Washington Blade is republishing it with permission.

On Monday, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau announced he was stepping down as leader of the Liberal Party, and thus as prime minister as soon as the party chooses his replacement. There’s a lot to unpack about how we got here and what happens next, but it’s important to note exactly how transformative Justin Trudeau was on LGBTQ rights in Canada.

When Trudeau came to power in 2015, he was following nearly 10 years of rule under the Stephen Harper Conservatives. Harper’s Conservative Party was new force in Canadian politics, merging the old-school business-minded Progressive Conservative Party with the more radical and frequently explicitly bigoted Canadian Alliance/Reform Party. Harper was able to take advantage of Canada’s badly designed electoral system and fractured political left to win three elections with 36, 37, and 39 percent of the vote. Unbowed by the lack of majority electoral mandate, the Conservatives relished in forcing through their agenda without seeking support from other parties.

Harper immediately called a vote on repealing same-sex marriage, which had become national law only a year prior (the vote failed, which Harper’s defenders like to argue was the plan all along.) He immediately slashed funding to civil rights defenders who had won a string of court victories for LGBTQ people. Arts, culture, and tourism boards were warned they’d come under scrutiny if they funded queer groups and programs. The Conservatives blocked justice reforms like equalizing the age of consent and protecting transgender people in law.

After a decade of this shit, LGBTQ Canadians and progressives were exhausted and demoralized.

Trudeau swept into office in 2015 and set about immediately changing the tone. That first year was a lot of photo ops and press statements and Cabinet appointments designed to ensure that every marginalized community felt that they were represented in the new government. Trudeau even became the first prime minister to march in a Pride parade — something he did over and over in multiple cities.

Conservatives derisively called it all “virtue signaling” or and relentlessly told a certain segment of the electorate that they should be offended by it all.

But for the most part, the Trudeau government delivered, especially for LGBTQ people.

Two key reforms came about in its first term: An overhaul of the Criminal Code that removed a number of laws that were still used to target queer people, including a sodomy law that included a higher age of consent and a ban on gay sex if it involved more than two people. Also removed were several obscenity and bawdy house provisions that were used to harass queer communities.

The other was the trans rights bill, C-16, which included explicit protections for trans people in federal human rights law and included them as a protected class in the hate crime and hate speech provisions of the Criminal Code. It’s genuinely astounding in retrospect how much impact this bill had given how little it actually changed. Canadian courts had already ruled that trans people were generally protected under sex discrimination laws, and in any event, the federal human rights code doesn’t really cover much in Canada. The far more important provincial human rights codes had mostly been updated to include “gender identity” years before the federal code anyway.

But the passage of C-16 was also the launching pad for one of Canada’s most notorious far-right cranks, Jordan Peterson. An obviously disturbed and disgraced former university professor, Peterson gained a global following of anti-trans weirdos and incels by spreading lies about C-16. The community that formed around Peterson is now a core constituency of the Conservative Party under opposition leader Pierre Poilievre. Indeed, Peterson’s interview of Poilievre last week on YouTube was treated as some kind of Yalta Conference for cringey weirdos — and may be why Elon Musk took a sudden interest in Poilievre this week.

But that wasn’t all Trudeau delivered for the queer community.

The Trudeau government banned conversion therapy. It restored and expanded funding to civil rights groups, queer organizations, and the arts. It drafted and implemented a strategy to promote 2SLGBTQIA+ rights and inclusion across government (yeah, that the government’s official acronym.) It issued an historic apology, expungement, and compensation scheme for people who’d been convicted or fired from the public service under old anti-gay laws. It added an “X” gender option for federal ID (passports). It ended the ban on gay/bi blood, tissue, and semen donors.

Trudeau also guided Canada through an unprecedented series of global and national crises, including the COVID pandemic, the first Trump presidency, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, an insurgency against the government (fully supported by the Conservatives), and a national reckoning with Canada’s shameful treatment of its Indigenous people.

But he was unable or unwilling to reckon with a series of major problems that have only been exacerbated by those crises: A soaring cost of living, a crumbling health care system, and a growing sense that nothing seems to “work” in Canada — from a post office that refuses to deliver packages, to parks that refuse to unlock their bathrooms, to criminals that go free because packed courts can’t hear their trials in time, to infrastructure and defense projects that drag on years beyond schedule and billions of dollars over budget.

The fact that most of these problems are under the jurisdiction of provinces that are almost entirely being mismanaged by Conservatives — sorry, the feds have to wear Canada Post — hasn’t blunted the people’s decision that Trudeau is to blame for every ill in Canada. Heck, that’s basically the Conservative slogan these days.

Trudeau probably should have stepped down a few months ago, to give the party a chance to choose a successor in an orderly fashion. Instead, he’s made himself a lame duck days before Trump takes office, threatening to annex Canada (and Greenland and Panama) through economic power, whatever the hell he means by any of that. The Liberal Party will soon announce rules for how a nationwide vote on the new leader will be held, and candidates are already jockeying into place. A new leader will have to be chosen by March 25, when parliament is recalled and the opposition is likely to force an early election, likely in mid-May.

According to current polls, the Liberal Party is cooked, and the Conservatives are poised to pull a near-sweep of parliament. Of course, it’s also possible that a leadership contest brings a fresh appealing face to the Liberals, and they’re able to recover some position ahead of the vote, whenever it is. Or Canadians will become concerned with the Conservative Party’s growing ties to Trump Republicans.

Poilievre, who cut his teeth in the Harper government as its most unscrupulous attack dog, is trying to position himself as the reasonable person who can unite and fix a fractured Canada. I have my doubts, given his entire public history. He’s also been notably palling around the worst anti-LGBTQ bigots in Canada and making vaguely threatening statements about banning trans women from bathrooms.

As Canadians get ready to head to the polls, it’s worth remembering what Conservatives do when they’re in power.

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Stand with displaced queer people living with HIV

Dec. 1 is World AIDS Day

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(Bigstock photo)

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.

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Perfection is a lie and vulnerability is the new strength

Rebuilding life and business after profound struggles

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(Photo by Orhan/Bigstock)

I grew up an overweight, gay Black boy in West Baltimore, so I know what it feels like not to fit into a world that was not really made for you. When I was 18, my mother passed from congestive heart failure, and fitness became a sanctuary for my mental health rather than just a place to build my body. That is the line I open most speeches with when people ask who I am and why I started SWEAT DC.

The truth is that little boy never really left me.

Even now, at 42 years old, standing 6 feet 3 inches and 225 pounds as a fitness business owner, I still carry the fears, judgments, and insecurities of that broken kid. Many of us do. We grow into new seasons of life, but the messages we absorbed when we were young linger and shape the stories we tell ourselves. My lack of confidence growing up pushed me to chase perfection as I aged. So, of course, I ended up in Washington, D.C., which I lovingly call the most perfection obsessed city in the world.

Chances are that if you are reading this, you feel some of that too.

D.C. is a place where your resume walks through the door before you do, where degrees, salaries, and the perfect body feel like unspoken expectations. In the age of social media, the pressure is even louder. We are all scrolling through each other’s highlight reels, comparing our behind the scenes to someone else’s curated moment. And I am not above it. I have posted the perfect photo with the inspirational “God did it again” caption when I am feeling great and then gone completely quiet when life feels heavy. I am guilty of loving being the strong friend while hating to admit that sometimes I am the friend who needs support.

We are all caught in a system that teaches us perfection or nothing at all. But what I know for sure now is this: Perfection is a lie and vulnerability is the new strength.

When I first stepped into leadership, trying to be the perfect CEO, I found Brené Brown’s book, “Daring Greatly” and immediately grabbed onto the idea that vulnerability is strength. I wanted to create a community at SWEAT where people felt safe enough to be real. Staff, members, partners, everyone. “Welcome Home” became our motto for a reason. Our mission is to create a world where everyone feels confident in their skin.

But in my effort to build that world for others, I forgot to build it for myself.

Since launching SWEAT as a pop up fundraiser in 2015, opening our first brick and mortar in 2017, surviving COVID, reemerging and scaling, and now preparing to open our fifth location in Shaw in February 2026, life has been full. Along the way, I went from having a tight trainer six pack to gaining nearly 50 pounds as a stressed out entrepreneur. I lost my father. I underwent hip replacement surgery. I left a relationship that looked fine on paper but was not right. I took on extra jobs to keep the business alive. I battled alcoholism. I faced depression and loneliness. There are more stories than I can fit in one piece.

But the hardest battle was the one in my head. I judged myself for not having the body I once had. I asked myself how I could lead a fitness company if I was not in perfect shape. I asked myself how I could be a gay man in this city and not look the way I used to.

Then came the healing.

A fraternity brother said to me on the phone, “G, you have to forgive yourself.” It stopped me in my tracks. I had never considered forgiving myself. I only knew how to push harder, chase more, and hide the cracks. When we hung up, I cried. That moment opened something in me. I realized I had not neglected my body. I had held my life and my business together the best way I knew how through unimaginable seasons.

I stopped shaming myself for not looking like my past. I started honoring the new ways I had proven I was strong.

So here is what I want to offer anyone who is in that dark space now. Give yourself the same grace you give everyone else. Love yourself through every phase, not just the shiny ones. Recognize growth even when growth simply means you are still here.

When I created SWEAT, I hoped to build a home where people felt worthy just as they are, mostly because I needed that home too. My mission now is to carry that message beyond our walls and into the city I love. To build a STRONGER DC.

Because strength is not perfection. Strength is learning to love an imperfect you.

With love and gratitude, Coach G.


Gerard Burley, also known as Coach G, is a D.C.-based fitness entrepreneur.

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Elusive safety: what new global data reveals about gender, violence, and erasure

Movements against gender equality, lack of human rights data contributing factors.

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Activists who participated in a 2024 Pride march in San Salvador, El Salvador, carry a banner that calls for a country where “being a woman is not a danger.” (Photo courtesy of Colectivo Alejandría)

“My identity could be revealed, people can say whatever they want [online] without consequences. [Hormone replacement therapy] is illegal here so I’m just waiting to find a way to get out of here.”

-Anonymous respondent to the 2024 F&M Global Barometers LGBTQI+ Perception Index from Iraq, self-identified as a transgender woman and lesbian

As the campaign for 16 Days Against Gender-Based Violence begins, it is a reminder that gender-based violence (GBV) — both on– and offline — not only impacts women and girls but everyone who has been harmed or abused because of their gender or perceived gender. New research from the Franklin & Marshall (F&M) Global Barometers and its report A Growing Backlash: Quantifying the Experiences of LGBTQI+ People, 2022-2024 starkly show trends of declining safety among LGBTQI+ persons around the world.

This erosion of safety is accelerated by movements against gender equality and the disappearance of credible human rights data and reporting. The fight against GBV means understanding all people’s lived realities, including those of LGBTQI+ people, alongside the rights we continue to fight for.

We partnered together while at USAID and Franklin & Marshall College to expand the research and evidence base to better understand GBV against LGBTQI+ persons through the F&M Global Barometers. The collection of barometers tracks the legal rights and lived experiences of LGBTQI+ persons from 204 countries and territories from 2011 to the present. With more than a decade of data, it allows us to see how rights have progressed and receded as well as the gaps between legal protections and lived experiences of discrimination and violence. 

This year’s data reveals alarming trends that highlight how fear and violence are, at its root, gendered phenomena that affect anyone who transgresses traditional gender norms.

LGBTQI+ people feel less safe

Nearly two-thirds of countries experienced a decline in their score on the F&M Global Barometers LGBTQI+ Perception Index (GBPI) from 2022-2024. This represents a five percent drop in global safety scores in just two years. With almost 70 percent of countries receiving an “F” grade on the GBPI, this suggests a global crisis in actual human rights protections for LGBTQI+ people. 

Backsliding on LGBTQI+ human rights is happening everywhere, even in politically stable, established democracies with human rights protections for LGBTQI+ people. Countries in Western Europe and the Americas experienced the greatest negative GBPI score changes globally, 74 and 67 percent, respectively. Transgender people globally reported the highest likelihood of violence, while trans women and intersex people reported the highest levels of feeling very unsafe or unsafe simply because of who they are. 

Taboo of gender equality

Before this current administration dismantled USAID, I helped create an LGBTQI+ inclusive whole-of-government strategy to prevent and respond to GBV that highlighted the unique forms of GBV against LGBTQI+ persons. This included so-called ‘corrective’ rape related to actual or perceived sexual orientation, gender identity, or expression” and so-called ‘conversion’ therapy practices that seek to change or suppress a person’s gender identity or expression, sexual orientation, or sex characteristics. These efforts helped connect the dots in understanding that LGBTQI+ violence is rooted in the same systems of inequality and power imbalances as the broader spectrum of GBV against women and girls. 

Losing data and accountability

Data that helps better understand GBV against LGBTQI+ persons is also disappearing. Again, the dismantling of USAID meant a treasure trove of research and reports on LGBTQI+ rights have been lost. Earlier this year, the US Department of State removed LGBTQI+ reporting from its annual Human Rights Reports. These played a critical role in providing credible sources for civil society, researchers, and policymakers to track abuses and advocate for change. 

If violence isn’t documented, it’s easier for governments to deny it even exists and harder for us to hold governments accountable. Yet when systems of accountability work, governments and civil society can utilize data in international forums like the UN Universal Periodic Review, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, and the Sustainable Development Goals to assess progress and compliance and call for governments to improve protections. 

All may not be lost if other countries and donors fill the void by supporting independent data collection and reporting efforts like the F&M Global Barometers and other academic and civil society monitoring. Such efforts are essential to the fight against GBV: The data helps show that the path toward safety, equality, and justice is within our reach if we’re unafraid of truth and visibility of those most marginalized and impacted.

Jay Gilliam (he/him/his) was the Senior LGBTQI+ Coordinator at USAID and is a member of the Global Outreach Advisory Council of the F&M Global Barometers.

Susan Dicklitch-Nelson (she/her/hers) is the founder of the F&M Global Barometers and Professor of Government at Franklin & Marshall College.

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