Commentary
Trump’s return threatens Uganda’s gender equality and trans community
US has played pivotal role in supporting LGBTQ rights around the world
The last few weeks have seen a dramatic shift in the global landscape ever since Donald Trump returned to the presidency of the United States in January 2025. In just his first few weeks in office, he has rolled out a flurry of executive orders that radically reshape trans rights — most recently banning trans women and girls from participating in women’s sports at federally funded schools. This move, a focal point of his 2024 campaign, accompanies another sweeping directive redefining sex as strictly male or female at birth, effectively denying the legal reality of transgender and nonbinary identities.
This represents a stark departure from recent U.S. policy, which had recognized gender identity as a protected category under federal law, following the Supreme Court’s landmark ruling in Bostock v. Clayton County (2020). Rolling back those precedents and restricting transgender people’s rights across education, housing, healthcare, federal employment, and more, means that the new administration has signaled that it is willing to reverse hard-fought civil rights gains in the name of “restoring biological truth.”
Historically, the United States has played a pivotal role in supporting LGBTQ+ rights worldwide. Over the past decades, U.S. foreign policy, funding initiatives, and diplomatic interventions have often helped protect marginalized groups abroad from violence, discrimination, and stigma. Ugandan civil society organizations, especially those advocating for LGBTQ+ communities, have relied on U.S. backing — both in principle and in practice — by receiving grants, legal support, or endorsements from U.S. diplomatic missions. This assistance has been critical in a country where key population communities, particularly transgender individuals, face rampant societal backlash. Moreover, the recent passage of Uganda’s Anti-Homosexuality Act (AHA) has entrenched an increasingly restrictive and repressive legal framework, fueling widespread societal stigma and discrimination that has intensified at home and is echoed in other parts of the continent.
In Uganda, “transgender” itself is not legally recognized; most identity documents still list only male or female, without mechanisms to update the markers for those who have transitioned or identify outside binary classifications. This makes everyday life a constant struggle, with people facing suspicion or ridicule whenever their physical appearance doesn’t match the gender on their ID.
For transgender Ugandans, accessing healthcare is fraught with challenges. While recent years have seen small pockets of progress — such as a Key Populations desk led by the Ministry of Health and the Uganda AIDS Commission in partnership with various development agencies, as well as a few clinics offering trans-friendly services and modest recognition of transgender-specific needs — these efforts remain precarious and at risk of faltering.
One reason is the chilling effect that new U.S. executive orders may have on international donor funding. If federal agencies are mandated to halt the “promotion” or “support” of what the Trump administration terms “gender ideology,” projects focusing on transgender health, counseling, or HIV prevention may find themselves unable to secure necessary funds.
Following a sudden directive from PEPFAR, all implementing partners must suspend their activities for 90 days while determining how to proceed under the new executive orders. This abrupt halt severely disrupts Tranz Network Uganda (TNU)’s community-led HIV prevention and treatment programs — funded for essential interventions such as PrEP, ART initiation, HIV testing, health education, and the distribution of condoms and lubricants in trans community hotspots. As a direct result, 52 trans persons on ART now face treatment interruptions, two hundred will lose access to critical prevention kits and lubricants, and health talks planned for one hundred community members are on hold. Beyond these immediate setbacks, the directive endangers broader HIV response gains and disproportionately impacts a population already at high risk and facing systematic marginalization.
For a population that already struggles to access basic care, any interruption or shortfall in medical supplies or specialized training will have dire consequences. Uganda’s trans community also depends on the moral and political support once offered by international partners. If the U.S. signals it no longer treats trans rights as human rights, local leaders who are already hostile to trans people could become more emboldened to adopt harsher measures. That could mean further restrictions on transgender-friendly healthcare, more aggressive policing, and the closure of community centers.
The precarious situation is compounded by existing human rights violations targeting sexual and gender minorities such as the Anti-Homosexuality Act. Transgender Ugandans often face physical violence, arbitrary arrests, and public outing, leading to loss of jobs, denial of housing, and ostracization from families.
In the past, when local advocates or victims have sought help from foreign embassies or humanitarian agencies, they often turned to offices backed by U.S. funding or support. Now, in the wake of Trump’s orders, a tense atmosphere has arisen — again. Civil society groups are questioning whether they should tailor their programs more conservatively to avoid losing grants. Community leaders warn that a chain reaction could follow: When the U.S. steps away from acknowledging gender identity, local officials who are unsympathetic to transgender individuals see a green light to intensify crackdown efforts.
We must urge the U.S. government to reconsider these orders. At stake are the lives and well-being of people whose dignity and identity are summarily dismissed by a return to rigid definitions of sex and gender. Failing to uphold transgender rights and cutting off resources to supportive programs can worsen Uganda’s strained public health system — particularly for those seeking HIV and mental health services.
The United States should revisit its role as a leader in upholding the principles of equality and nondiscrimination, principles that once were hallmarks of its global engagement. Local communities and advocacy groups also need continued support and engagement from both governmental and non-governmental U.S. entities, which can influence policy through targeted funding, diplomacy, and public statements affirming that trans rights are human rights.
Moving forward, the administration in Washington should consider preserving or at least carving out exemptions for essential health, legal, and community-building services. If fully reversing these executive orders is politically difficult, then agencies should consult with experts, activists, and members of the transgender community themselves to mitigate harm and ensure that humanitarian needs are not overshadowed by ideological directives.
Uganda is also party to various regional and international human rights treaties that obligate it to uphold non-discrimination. In August 2023, the Ministry of Health released a press statement mandating that health services be accessible to all without discrimination — a pledge that stands in stark contrast to the current environment following the passage of the AHA. Government officials would do well to honor these commitments by reassuring the local transgender population that essential healthcare remains accessible, and by addressing the urgent need for legal identity mechanisms. Ultimately, dismantling the fragile network of trans-focused support not only imperils those on the margins but also undermines global progress toward fundamental human rights, equality, and compassion — values that should know no borders.
Williams Apako is the executive officer of the Tranz Network Uganda and a board member of the Global Fund’s Uganda Country Coordinating Mechanism.
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.
Commentary
Perfection is a lie and vulnerability is the new strength
Rebuilding life and business after profound struggles
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.
Commentary
Elusive safety: what new global data reveals about gender, violence, and erasure
Movements against gender equality, lack of human rights data contributing factors.
“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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