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Defunding equality: How the US betrayed LGBTQ communities worldwide

American aid freeze will cost lives

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Asociación Solidaria para Impulsar el Desarrollo Humano (ASPIDH), a Salvadoran transgender rights group, has received U.S. Agency for International Development funds. (Washington Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

Just two weeks ago, the director of a Ugandan LGBT+ crisis center watched helplessly as their last reserves ran out following the U.S. aid freeze. With no emergency funding in sight, they were forced to turn away desperate individuals seeking shelter from life-threatening violence. In Peru, a trans women’s shelter that provided food, medical care, and legal support shut its doors overnight, leaving residents with nowhere to go. In CĆ“te d’Ivoire, a life-saving HIV prevention program collapsed, putting thousands at immediate risk. These are just a handful of the stories we heard in All Out’s global partner survey, a rapid assessment of the damage being done by the Trump regime’s reckless and cruel decision to freeze all U.S. foreign aid.

The U.S. action stems from Trump’s Executive Order 14169, titled Reevaluating and Realigning United States Foreign Aid, which mandates a 90-day pause on all U.S. foreign development assistance programs. The order claims that the U.S. foreign aid system is “not aligned with American interests and in many cases antithetical to American values.” But what values does the United States government truly believe in when a policy decision leaves thousands of marginalized people without shelter, healthcare, or even a chance at survival? The aid freeze has not safeguarded American interests — it has simply endangered the lives of some of the world’s most vulnerable communities.

For years, the U.S. has played a critical role in supporting LGBT+ organizations worldwide, bridging the financial and political void left by foreign governments that fail to safeguard the rights of their LGBT+ citizens. But in one stroke of a pen, that support has disappeared. The results have been catastrophic.

According to the Global Philanthropy Project, the total amount of LGBT+ aid likely to be cut by the U.S. and the Netherlands alone is estimated at $105 million — one in every four dollars of government funding for LGBT+ causes worldwide. The impact is immediate and devastating: our partner survey reveals that 75 percent are reporting increased risks to life, health, or safety of community members as a direct result of the aid freeze. More than two-thirds have already had to shut down programs or lay off staff. Nearly a third are on the brink of closure.

The consequences are particularly dire in places where LGBT+ people already face criminalization, violence, and social exclusion. Shelters for LGBT+ refugees and survivors of homophobic and transphobic violence have been shuttered across multiple countries. One of our Ukrainian partners shared, “Many LGBT+ individuals are now without a safe place to go, and we are seeing an increase in homelessness and violence.” In Sudan, activists who provided emergency aid to LGBT+ people fleeing war and persecution are now unable to help. In Colombia, a program offering economic inclusion programs for trans migrant women has had to close, forcing many into dangerous and exploitative conditions just to meet their basic needs.

The Trump regime justified the aid freeze as a 90-day review of spending priorities. But for LGBT+ people on the frontlines, 90 days without funding can be a death sentence. And while Trump’s spokespeople have tried to dismiss the freeze as temporary, organizations have already begun receiving termination notices. The intent is clear: This is part of a broader rollback of human rights commitments. And the vacuum left by U.S. disengagement is already being filled by authoritarian regimes that weaponize homophobia and transphobia for political gain.

But while the U.S. government is abandoning its commitments, the rest of the world cannot afford to do the same. Governments that claim to champion LGBT+ rights must now step up at pace to fill the funding gap. Private donors, including corporations that have long benefited from rainbow capitalism, must also act.

For years, LGBT+ activists have built movements on shoestring budgets, navigating impossible conditions with resilience and determination. But resilience is not a funding model and our communities deserve better. If we do nothing, decades of progress could unravel in months. And make no mistake: More lives will be lost.

Governments, philanthropists, and the broader international community must act now. This is not just a political decision — it is a moral one. The brave partners we spoke to in our survey are running out of options. The question is whether the world will stand with them — or turn away as they are left to suffer and die.

Matthew Beard is the executive director of All Out, a global LGBT+ non-profit that works towards a world in which nobody has to sacrifice their family, freedom, safety or dignity because of who they are or who they love. Before joining All Out in 2016, Matthew was the Global Director of Fundraising and Communications at Action Aid, an international non-profit focussing on women’s rights and anti-poverty. For 10 years, Matthew also served in various senior communications and fundraising roles in the UK, Germany, Australia, and Canada for Amnesty International.

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ā€˜A New Alliance for a New Millenium, 2003-2020’

Revisiting the history of gay Pride in Washington

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A scene from the 2001 Capital Pride Festival. (Washington Blade archive photo by Clint Steib)

In conjunction with WorldPride 2025, the Rainbow History Project is creating an exhibit on the evolution of Pride: ā€œPickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington.ā€ It will be on Freedom Plaza from May 17-July 7. This is the ninth in a series of 10 articles that share the research themes and invite public participation. In ā€œA New Alliance for a New Milleniumā€ we discuss how Whitman-Walker’s stewardship of Pride led to the creation of the Capital Pride Alliance and how the 1960s demands of the Mattachine Society of Washington were seen as major victories under the Obama administration.

This section of the exhibit explores how the Whitman-Walker Clinic, a cornerstone of the community since the 1970s, stepped up to rescue Pride from a serious financial crisis. The Clinic not only stabilized Pride but also helped it expand, guiding the festival through its 30th anniversary and cementing its role as a unifying force for the city’s LGBTQ population. As Whitman-Walker shifted its focus to primary healthcare, rebranding as Whitman-Walker Health, a new era began with the formation of the Capital Pride Alliance (CPA). Born from the volunteers and community partners who had kept Pride going, CPA took the reins and transformed Capital Pride into one of the largest free LGBTQ festivals in the country. Under CPA’s stewardship, the festival grew to attract hundreds of thousands, with multi-day celebrations, headline performers, and a vibrant parade. 

This period saw Pride become a true cross-section of the community, as former Capital Pride Alliance executive director Dyana Mason recalled: ā€œIt was wonderfully diverse and had a true cross section of our community… Everybody was there and just being themselves.ā€ The festival’s expansion created space for more people to find a sense of belonging and affirmation. This growth was made possible through the support of sponsors, volunteers, and a city eager to celebrate-but it also sparked ongoing debates about the role of corporate funding and the meaning of Pride in a changing world.

National politics are woven throughout this era. In a powerful moment of recognition, Frank Kameny — the architect of D.C.’s first White House picket for gay rights and a founder of the Mattachine Society — was invited to the White House in 2009. There, President Obama and the U.S. government formally apologized for Kameny’s firing from federal service in 1957, a symbolic act that echoed the earliest demands of DC’s own Mattachine Society, the city’s first gay civil rights organization founded in 1961. The 2009 National Equality March revived the spirit of earlier mass mobilizations, linking LGBTQ rights to broader movements for social justice. The 2010s brought landmark victories: ā€œDon’t Ask, Don’t Tellā€ was repealed, marriage equality became law. These wins suggested decades of protest had borne fruit, yet new generations continued to debate the meaning of true liberation and inclusion.

Our exhibit examines how the political edge of Pride has softened as the event has grown. As the festival expanded in scale and visibility, the focus on protest and activism has sometimes faded into the background, even as new challenges and divisions have emerged. Some voices have called for a return to Pride’s more radical roots. The 2017 Equality March for Unity and Pride drew 80,000 people to D.C., centering intersectional struggles — police violence, immigrant rights, trans inclusion — and exposing the widening rift between mainstream LGBTQ progress and the lived realities of the most vulnerable. The question remains: Are LGBTQ officers marching in uniform a sign of progress or a painful reminder of Pride’s roots in resistance to state violence? During Capital Pride 2017, activists blocked the parade, targeting floats sponsored by corporations linked to weapons manufacturing, pipeline financing, and other forms of oppression. 

As we prepare for WorldPride and the anniversaries of D.C.’s first Gay Pride Day Block Party and the White House picket, the Rainbow History Project invites you to experience this living history at Freedom Plaza. Through archival images and the voices of organizers and participants, you’ll discover how Pride in DC has been shaped by resilience, reinvention, and the ongoing struggle to ensure every voice is heard. 


Zoey O’Donnell is a member of the Rainbow History Project. Vincent Slatt is RHP’s senior curator.Ā 

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A conversation about queers and class

As a barback, I see our community’s elitism up close

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(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

In the bar, on the way to its now-Instafamous bathrooms, there’s a sign that reads, ā€œqueer & trans liberation means economic justice for all.ā€ 

I remember seeing that sign the first week the bar opened, and ever since I often find myself reflecting on that message. I stand fully in agreement. That’s why laws protecting queers in the workplace are essential, for far too often we are targeted otherwise. It’s also why I love working at the bar, since it provides opportunities for queers from all over the spectrum to earn a living. At a time when I gave myself space to pursue art, it was the bar that enabled me to do so. 

It’s one thing to support the LGBTQ community in spirit, but that spirit means jack in a capitalist society if viable economic opportunities don’t exist. Speaking of jack, there’s a fellow barback named Jack who I fangirl over often. Jack is a decade younger than me, but damn I wish I had his sex appeal at his age (or any age, for that matter). He also has a mustache that easily puts mine to shame. 

Jack not only agrees but took things one step further. ā€œEconomic inequality IS a queer issue,ā€ he told me, ā€œespecially as we move into the most uncertain period of American politics I have ever lived through, it is apparent our identity is now a fireable offense.ā€ 

Uncertain is right. We’re fresh off the heels of a trade bonanza, one caused for literally no reason by our current commander in chief. Yet there emerged a strange division when discussing the trade war’s ā€œunintendedā€ consequences. For working class comrades like Jack and myself, we’re stressed about increasing prices in an already tough economy. But the wealthier echelons of our country had something else on their mind: the spiraling stock market. This alone highlights the story of our economic divide, where the same event produces two separate concerns for two distinct classes.  

This is not to say the stock market is not important, but sometimes the media forget many Americans don’t own stock at all, including a vast majority of people between 18 and 29. In fact, according to Axios, the wealthiest 10 percent of Americans own 93 percent of the entire stock market, with the richest 1 percent holding $25 trillion — that’s right, trillion with a ā€œtā€ — in market value. So, when the president reversed course on trade, it was less about high prices hurting everyday Americans and more about the dent created in the wealth of the wealthiest. And I’ll admit: that bothers me a lot. 

If there is any takeaway from Trump’s trade war, it should be this: Economic inequality is the highest it has been in decades and, if left unchecked, will destroy the fabric of our country. We are steadily moving toward oligarchy status—if we’re not there already, that is—and it seems to grow worse with each passing year and administration. But in a city of D.C. gays who often skew corporate, I wonder: Are we all on the same page here? 

After becoming a barback, I have my doubts. From questions about what else I do, to comments encouraging me to work hard so that I can be a bartender one day, I quickly learned the gay world is not too fond of barbacking. Barebacking, sure, but not barbacking. And hey, I get it—we’re not the alcohol hookup at the bar. Still, we are part of the service industry, and while some people are incredibly kind, you’d be surprised at how many turn up their noses at us, too. 

Recently, I’ve come to realize my class defines me as much as my orientation does, if not more. Naturally, when you come from a rough neck of the woods like I do, it’s easy to feel out of place in a flashy city like D.C., which Jack noticed, too. ā€œAnyone from a working class background could testify to that,ā€ he said. ā€œI don’t really know anyone from true upper class backgrounds, but I’d imagine their experience is one that leans into assimilation.ā€

Assimilation is a key word here, for admittedly gays love to play with the elite. Often, we don’t have children, meaning more money for the finer things in life, but that also means we may not think about future generations much, either. I’ve written before that our insecurity growing up has us ready to show the world just how powerful gays can be—power that comes in trips to Coachella and Puerto Vallarta, or basking in the lavish houses and toys we own. There’s already a joke that gays run the government, and corporate gays kick ass at their jobs as well. So, given the choice between fighting inequality and keeping a high-paying job, I must admit I have a hard time seeing where D.C. gays stand. 

Admittedly, it worked out in our favor before, given that many corporations catered to our economic prowess over the years. But look at what’s happening now: Many corporations have kicked us to the curb. Protections are being stripped from queers, particularly for our trans brothers and sisters. Law firms are bowing down to Trump, offering hundreds of millions in legal fees just for their bottom line. All of this will hurt both queers and the working class in the long run, so again I ask: Corporate gays, where do you stand? Because if you remain complicit, that’s bad news for us all. 

I don’t want to sound accusatory, and I hate being a doomsday type, so allow me to end this on a better note. Strength is not about celebrating when times are good. Arguably, true strength emerges when times get tough. These are tough times, my friends, but that also makes now the perfect opportunity to show the world just how strong we are. 

At a time when the world is pressuring us to turn our backs on each other, we must defy them to show up when it counts. Corporate gays—now more than ever, at a time when the economy is turning its back on queers, we need you. We need you to stand up for the queer community. We need you to make sure no one gets left behind. We need you to show up for us, so that we can show up for you, too. 

Ten years ago, the economy didn’t turn queer out of nowhere. The economy turned queer because we made it turn queer. 

And if we did it once, surely we can do it again. 


Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer and barback.

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Fight against TERFs goes global

UK Supreme Court on April 17 ruled legal definition of ā€˜woman’ limited to ā€˜biological sex’

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Transgender activists protest in Sheffield, England, on April 19, 2025. (Courtesy photo)

After last week’s U.K. Supreme Court ruling that reduced the legal definition of ā€œwomanā€ to ā€œbiological sex,ā€ footage of a group of women celebrating the decision with champagne spread virally across the media. These women are known as trans-exclusionary radical feminists, or TERFs. 

In response, thousands of transgender people and their allies — including parents, siblings, and pro-trans celebrities — flooded the streets of London, Sheffield, Manchester, Cardiff, and other cities across the U.K. on April 19, to protest the erosion of trans rights. The fight between TERFs and trans* people have become more visible to those outside of the British LGBTQ+ community.

But this isn’t just about the U.K. The problem has gone global. For me, as an openly trans person who has lived in four different countries, it feels deeply personal.

For years, British TERFs have been spreading misinformation about gender around the globe, collaborating with far-right politicians and inspiring anti-trans violence.

At a pro-trans protest I attended in Sheffield, one of the speakers, Sofia Alatorre, a trans woman from Mexico now living in the U.K., dedicated her speech to the ways British TERFs, with their powerful movement supported by celebrities, such as ā€œHarry Potterā€ author JK Rowling, are influencing people in South America.

ā€œWhen I go to Mexico now, I don’t just hear people talking about transsexuals as degenerates anymore. Instead I hear about what bathroom we should use, or whether we belong in sports,ā€ Sofia told the Washington Blade. ā€œThese are not lines that come from Mexico. They are finely crafted narratives designed to drive a wedge by weaponizing ā€˜common sense’ gut reactions to complicated subjects. Because without these, they’d have to face the uncomplicated reality: We are just people trying to live our lives happily. In the U.K., the entire media infrastructure is sympathetic with ā€˜gender critical’ TERF ideology to the point that sympathy blurs into outright support. With these lines finding footing in the Global South, it seems clear that the U.K. has become an exporter of transphobia.ā€

Unfortunately, TERFs even showed up at a trans event, attempting to argue with the speakers. 

One of the trans* organizers of the Sheffield demonstration, who preferred to remain anonymous, expressed their love for the trans* community and trans* people. They emphasized that they are not expressing hatred toward TERFs — they simply want them to reconsider their position.

ā€œIf you’re a TERF and reading this, we don’t hate you,ā€ they said. ā€œWe don’t hate you. There is nothing I hold in my heart but deep pity for you. You do not know the community of love that we have as transsexuals, and you only know your community of hatred. If you are tired of feeling nothing but hate, come and talk to us, we’re nice, I promise. This protest is a rallying cry that we can’t lose, that we are all here for each other, and that we can do whatever the f*ck we want when we work together. We may be out here today in rage, but what keeps us alive is love.ā€

But it doesn’t seem like TERFs are ready to show love toward trans people — or to see trans women as their sisters. At our local protest in Sheffield, they were so agitated, jumping toward speakers and trying to engage with them, that the police had to intervene and remove them to prevent a fight. It reminded me of TERFs’ behavior I encountered in St. Petersburg, Russia, and in Russian-language online spaces.

Unfortunately, it’s not just South America that has been influenced by UK TERFs. The country I currently live in is known within European and U.S. queer communities as ā€œTERF Island.ā€

Some trans Americans even avoid traveling to the U.K., afraid of the influence that Rowling holds over millions due to her wealth and cultural impact.

In Russia, Ukraine, and other Eastern European countries, so-called ā€œradical feminismā€ is the most prominent feminist movement. Radical feminism, which emerged in the 1960s, is based on the belief that patriarchy is the root of all other forms of oppression.

In modern Eastern Europe, this has led to a situation where many feminists fail to acknowledge racism, ableism, and transphobia — excluding everyone except cisgender people, Slavic, atheist, and able-bodied people from their movement. Historically, radical feminists have not focused much on the trans* community, but with the rise of trans* activism in the 2000s, many became fixated on targeting trans people.

Many of my Russian-speaking trans friends have been badly bullied by local TERFs. Some even experienced suicidal thoughts and severe anxiety due to online harassment from them. And these TERFs weren’t developing their ideology locally — they were importing it. The anti-man rhetoric was inherited from American prominent radical feminists like Andrea Dworkin and Ti-Grace Atkinson, while the transphobic elements were ā€œexportedā€ to Eastern Europe, primarily from the U.K. and specifically Scotland.

Even before Rowling, there was Magdalen Berns, a Scottish TERF YouTuber who was extremely popular among Russian girls and women. It was Berns who helped bring Rowling into anti-trans activism.

I spoke with Sophie Molly, a Scottish trans activist and politician who ran as an Independent MP candidate in the 2024 U.K. general election for the Aberdeen South constituency. 

TERFs ruthlessly harassed her during her campaign.

ā€œTransphobia is institutionalized in the UK. It is systemic and it’s getting worse with each passing dayā€ she told me. ā€œLocal TERF have a slew of legal professionals on their team too. Like Sarah Phillimore and Joanne Cherry. TERFs have been continually lobbying the government to oppress trans and gender non-conforming people. Dragging their rights and freedoms through the courts. All under the pretense of protecting the rights of women. In reality these conservative groups are backed and funded by billionaires. Billionaires that want to remove trans people from public life, due a personal prejudice they hold. The majority of TERFs are wealthy and privileged white women. Most of them are not LGBTQIA+. They have obscene amounts of money to spend on persecuting a tiny minority. Trans women are women — no matter what the U.K. Supreme Court dictates.ā€

But another problem of TERFs is that they are policing women as well. Even the Supreme Court decision targeted women.

ā€œThe [Supreme Court] decision is an attack on the rights of both trans people and women,ā€ Sophie said. ā€œIt reduces women to their anatomy, which is extremely regressive and misogynistic in my opinionā€

Women for decades have fought to ensure their lives wouldn’t be defined by the sexual organs they were born with. TERFs are now doing exactly that — attempting to reduce womanhood to biology, while also dictating how women should behave, all in the name of ā€œsisterhood.ā€

Modern British TERFs have received support from figures like musician, far-right influencer, and convicted murderer Varg Vikernes, as well as ultra-conservative organizations such as the Russian Orthodox Church, an institution notorious not only for justifying the war in Ukraine with homophobic rhetoric but also for its long history of opposing women’s rights. This kind of ā€œfeminismā€ is a global threat, not only to trans* people but also to girls and women everywhere.

Editor’s note: The author uses trans* in order to be inclusive of nonbinary and gender queer people.

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