Opinions
LGBTQ people must stand with immigrants now
Their courage and care have made our communities stronger
Protests are erupting across the country in response to a surge in immigration enforcement: increased ICE raids, expanding surveillance networks, and political calls for mass deportations. Organizers are mobilizing to stop detentions, defend immigrant communities, and push back against the broader criminalization of migration.
LGBTQ+ people are not bystanders in this story. We are at its center.
There are 1.3 million LGBTQ+ adult immigrants who live in the U.S., and more than 289,000 who are undocumented. Many fled their countries because of anti-LGBTQ+ violence. When they arrive in the U.S., they face new threats: detention, denial of medical care, and the looming fear of deportation. Some are sent back to places where being LGBTQ+ is punishable by death. Others are locked away in U.S. facilities that claim to protect them but instead isolate and endanger them.
We know from available data that LGBTQ+ immigrants in ICE custody are 97 times more likely to be sexually assaulted than other detainees. Hormone therapy, HIV medication, and mental health care are frequently denied. Deaths in custody, like those of Roxana Hernández and Johana Medina Leon, are tragic outcomes of these structural conditions. But the harm does not end with detention. The constant threat of raids and deportation drives people away from clinics, silences abuse, and cuts off vital access to preventive care. These systems undermine health at every level: physical, emotional, communal, and political.
As a public health researcher who studies the consequences of public policy, I see this moment not just a legal or political crisis, but a public health emergency. The systems being protested are the same ones that make people sick. They fracture communities, expose vulnerable populations to trauma and medical neglect, and deepen the structural conditions that cause premature death.
This is what public health calls a syndemic: multiple forms of violence interacting to produce compounding harm. Immigration enforcement doesn’t just criminalize. It isolates. It separates people from care, severs support networks, and creates conditions of chronic fear. And that fear becomes its own form of illness.
What we are witnessing is not just an immigration issue. It’s about power. The expansion of enforcement, surveillance, and detention reflects a broader effort to consolidate control over who is allowed to exist safely in public space. And once those powers exist, they rarely stay confined to one community.
LGBTQ+ people have lived this before. From sodomy laws to the surveillance of gay bars, from HIV criminalization to today’s drag bans and curriculum restrictions, we know how governments weaponize control in the name of “public order.” When we ignore state violence against immigrants, we normalize the very tools – raids, profiling, incarceration – that have also been used against us.
The same political forces driving this crackdown on immigrants are fueling anti-LGBTQ+ legislation across the country. These are not parallel struggles. They are interlocking, coordinated, and mutually reinforcing. And that is why now is such a critical time for coalition building. And not just symbolic solidarity, but real, material alignment.
LGBTQ+ liberation has always depended on collective care. We have survived because we built networks to keep each other alive when institutions looked the other way. That same energy is needed now – at the border, in detention centers, and in our neighborhoods.
And we must be clear: this is about justice. Immigrants have long shaped the soul of LGBTQ+ life in the U.S. – as organizers, artists, caregivers, and political visionaries. And they haven’t just participated in our movement. They have led it. From ACT UP and HIV advocacy to today’s mutual aid networks and transgender liberation organizing, immigrant voices have been at the forefront. Their courage and care have made our communities stronger.
If we want to live in a world where no one is caged for who they are or where they’re from, we must act together to build it. That means supporting immigrant-led organizations like Familia: Trans Queer Liberation Movement, the Black LGBTQ+ Migrant Project, and Trans Queer Pueblo. It means showing up for raids defense, calling out anti-immigrant policies, and refusing to let our movements be divided.
If Pride means anything, it must mean this: that our health, our safety, and our futures are bound together. And that we will fight – together – until we are all free.
Harry Barbee, Ph.D., is an assistant professor in the Bloomberg School of Public Health at Johns Hopkins University. They study LGBTQ+ health and public policy.
Letter-to-the-Editor
Candidates should pledge to nominate LGBTQ judge to Supreme Court
Presidential, Senate hopefuls need to go on the record
As soon as the final votes are cast and counted and verified after the November 2026 elections are over, the 2028 presidential cycle will begin in earnest. Polls, financial aid requests, and volunteer opportunities ad infinitum will flood the public and personal media. There will be more issues than candidates in both parties. The rending of garments and mudslinging will be both interesting and maybe even amusing as citizens will watch how candidates react to each and every issue of the day.
There is one particular item that I am hoping each candidate will be asked whether in private or in public. If a Supreme Court vacancy occurs in your potential administration, will you nominate an open and qualified LGBTQ to join the remaining eight?
Other interest groups on both sides have made similar demands over the years and have had them honored. Is it not time that our voices are raised as well? There are several already sitting judges on both state and federal benches that have either been elected statewide or approved by the U.S. Senate.
Our communities are being utilized and abused on judicial menus. Enough already! Challenge each and every candidate, regardless of their party with our honest question and see if honest answers are given. By the way … no harm in asking the one-third of the U.S. Senate candidates too who will be on ballots. Looking forward to any candidate tap dancing!
Opinions
2026 elections will bring major changes to D.C. government
Mayor’s office, multiple Council seats up for grabs
Next year will be a banner year for elections in D.C. The mayor announced she will not run. Two Council members, Anita Bonds, At-large, and Brianne Nadeau, Ward 1, have announced they will not run. Waiting for Del. Norton to do the same, but even if she doesn’t, there will be a real race for that office.
So far, Robert White, Council member at-large, and Brooke Pinto, Council member Ward 2, are among a host of others, who have announced. If one of these Council members should win, there would be a special election for their seat. If Kenyon McDuffie, Council member at-large, announces for mayor as a Democrat, which he is expected to do, he will have to resign his seat on the Council as he fills one of the non-Democratic seats there. Janeese George, Ward 4 Council member, announced she is running for mayor. Should she win, there would be a special election for her seat. Another special election could happen if Trayon White, Ward 8, is convicted of his alleged crimes, when he is brought to trial in January. Both the Council chair, and attorney general, have announced they are seeking reelection, along with a host of other offices that will be on the ballot.
Many of the races could look like the one in Ward 1 where at least six people have already announced. They include three members of the LGBTQ community. It seems the current leader in that race is Jackie Reyes Yanes, a Latina activist, not a member of the LGBTQ community, who worked for Mayor Fenty as head of the Latino Affairs Office, and for Mayor Bowser as head of the Office of Community Affairs. About eight, including the two Council members, have already announced they are running for the delegate seat.
I am often asked by candidates for an endorsement. The reason being my years as a community, LGBTQ, and Democratic, activist; and my ability to endorse in my column in the Washington Blade. The only candidate I endorsed so far is Phil Mendelson, for Council chair. While he and I don’t always agree on everything, he’s a staunch supporter of the LGBTQ community, a rational person, and we need someone with a steady hand if there really are six new Council members, out of the 13.
When candidates call, they realize I am a policy wonk. My unsolicited advice to all candidates is: Do more than talk in generalities, be specific and honest as to what you think you can do, if elected. Candidates running for a legislative office, should talk about what bills they will support, and then what new ones they will introduce. What are the first three things you will focus on for your constituents, if elected. If you are running against an incumbent, what do you think you can do differently than the person you hope to replace? For any new policies and programs you propose, if there is a cost, let constituents know how you intend to pay for them. Take the time to learn the city budget, and how money is currently being spent. The more information you have at your fingertips, the smarter you sound, and voters respect that, at least many do. If you are running for mayor, you need to develop a full platform, covering all the issues the city will face, something I have helped a number of previous mayors do. The next mayor will continue to have to deal with the felon in the White House. He/she/they will have to ensure he doesn’t try to eliminate home rule. The next mayor will have to understand how to walk a similar tightrope Mayor Bowser has balanced so effectively.
Currently, the District provides lots of public money to candidates. If you decide to take it, know the details. The city makes it too easy to get. But while it is available, take advantage of it. One new variable in this election is the implementation of rank-choice voting. It will impact how you campaign. If you attack another candidate, you may not be the second, or even third, choice, of their strongest supporters.
Each candidate needs a website. Aside from asking for donations and volunteers, it should have a robust issues section, biography, endorsements, and news. One example I share with candidates is my friend Zach Wahls’s website. He is running for United States Senate from Iowa. It is a comprehensive site, easy to navigate, with concise language, and great pictures. One thing to remember is that D.C. is overwhelmingly Democratic. Chances are the winner of the Democratic primary will win the general election.
Potential candidates should read the DCBOE calendar. Petitions will be available at the Board of Elections on Jan. 23, with the primary on June 16th, and general election on Nov. 3. So, ready, set, go!
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
Opinions
Lighting candles in a time of exhaustion
Gunmen killed 15 people at Sydney Hanukkah celebration
In the wake of the shooting at Bondi Beach that targeted Jews, many of us are sitting with a familiar feeling: exhaustion. Not shock or surprise, but the deep weariness that comes from knowing this violence continues. It is yet another reminder that antisemitism remains persistent.
Bondi Beach is far from Washington, D.C., but antisemitism does not respect geography. When Jews are attacked anywhere, Jews everywhere feel it. We check on family and friends, absorb the headlines, and brace ourselves for the quiet, numbing normalization that has followed acts of mass violence.
Many of us live at an intersection where threats can come from multiple directions. As a community, we have embraced the concept of intersectional identity, and yet in queer spaces, many LGBTQ+ Jews are being implicitly or explicitly asked to play down our Jewishness. Jews hesitate before wearing a Magen David or a kippah. Some of us have learned to compartmentalize our identities, deciding which part of ourselves feels safest to lead with. Are we welcome as queer people only if we mute our Jewishness? Are those around us able to acknowledge that our fear is not abstract, but rooted in a lived reality, one in which our friends and family are directly affected by the rise in antisemitic violence, globally and here at home?
As a result of these experiences, many LGBTQ+ Jews feel a growing fatigue. We are told, implicitly or explicitly, that our fear is inconvenient; that Jewish trauma must be contextualized, minimized, or deferred in favor of other injustices. Certainly, the world is full of horror. And yet, we long for a world in which all lives are cherished and safe, where solidarity is not conditional on political purity or on which parts of ourselves are deemed acceptable to love.
We are now in the season of Chanuka. The story of this holiday is not one of darkness vanishing overnight. It is the story of a fragile light that should not have lasted. Chanuka teaches us that hope does not require certainty; it requires persistence and the courage to kindle a flame even when the darkness feels overwhelming.
For LGBTQ+ Jews, this lesson resonates deeply. We have survived by refusing to disappear across multiple dimensions of our identities. We have built communities, created rituals, and embraced chosen families that affirm the fullness of who we are.
To our LGBTQ+ siblings who are not Jewish: this is a moment to listen, to stand with us, and to make space for our grief. Solidarity means showing up not only when it is easy or popular, but especially when it is uncomfortable.
To our fellow Jews: your exhaustion is valid. Your fear is understandable, and so is your hope. Every candle lit this Chanuka is an act of resilience. Every refusal to hide, every moment of joy, is a declaration that hatred will not have the final word.
Light does not deny darkness. It confronts it.
As we light our candles this Chanuka season, may we protect one another and bring light to one another, even as the world too often responds to difference with violence and hate.
Joshua Maxey is the executive director of Bet Mishpachah, D.C.’s LGBTQ synagogue.
