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A nation voting between fear and hope

Pro-LGBTQ, progressive candidates won across the country

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New York City Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani (YouTube photo)

The United States returned to the polls on Nov. 4, and the results revealed much more than another electoral contest. What unfolded in Virginia, New Jersey, New York, Miami, and California was a moral and political X-ray of a nation voting between fear and hope. Voters spoke from uncertainty, but also from a conviction that the country can still be a place of justice, inclusion, and respect.

The victories of Abigail Spanberger in Virginia and Mikie Sherrill in New Jersey — together with the rise of progressive Zohran Mamdani as mayor of New York City, the Democratic surge in Miami, and the approval of Proposition 50 in California — set the tone for an election that sent a clear message to the Trump administration: fear may mobilize, but it cannot sustain power. Citizens voted with their hearts, tired of hate speech and political spectacle, and hopeful for a government that looks toward people rather than power.

New York became the clearest symbol of this shift.

Mamdani, the son of immigrants, Muslim, and unapologetically progressive, centered his victory speech on dignity and solidarity.

“Tonight we made history,” he declared before a diverse crowd. “New York will remain a city of immigrants: a city built by immigrants, powered by immigrants and, as of tonight, led by an immigrant.” But his most powerful message was directed at the city’s most vulnerable residents: “Here, we believe in standing up for those we love, whether you are an immigrant, a member of the trans community, one of the many Black women that Donald Trump has fired from a federal job, a single mom still waiting for the cost of groceries to go down, or anyone else with their back against the wall.”

Those words echoed across the country as a response to years of political regression and legislative attacks on LGBTQ people, and especially on the trans community. Mamdani pledged to expand and protect gender-affirming care, committing public funds to ensure that “every New Yorker has access to the medical treatment they need.” His stance positions New York as a beacon of resistance against the wave of restrictive policies spreading through many states.

The November results carry a profound meaning for those living on the margins of power. For the trans community, these outcomes represent far more than a political breather — they are an affirmation of existence. At a time when official rhetoric has sought to erase identities, deny healthcare, and criminalize bodies, the victory of leaders who champion inclusion rekindles the hope of living without fear. The trans vote, and the broader LGBTQ vote, was not merely civic participation — it was an act of survival and resistance.

The election also spoke to the hearts of immigrant families, people living with HIV or chronic illnesses, racial minorities, and working-class communities struggling to make ends meet. In a nation where so many feel politically invisible, these local victories renew faith in democracy as an instrument of transformation. They remind us that hope is not naïveté — it is the most courageous act of those who choose to keep standing.

Miami, for its part, sent an unexpected message. In a Republican stronghold historically aligned with the Trump administration, the Democratic candidate led the first round and forced a runoff election. In a city defined by its Latinx, Black, immigrant, and LGBTQ diversity, this progressive surge was a break with fear-driven politics and automatic voting patterns. The ballots in South Florida proved that change often begins where few expect it.

For the Trump administration, the message could not be clearer. The country is issuing a warning: human rights are not negotiable. The economy matters, but so does dignity. Voters are demanding real solutions, not slogans; respect, not manipulation; empathy, not imposition.

LGBTQ and trans communities have been the visible face of a resistance that refuses to surrender. Every vote cast was an act of hope in the face of fear; every victory, an answer to symbolic and institutional violence. The words of New York’s new mayor have become a national emblem because they transcend partisanship — they remind the nation that even in darkness, humanity can still be public policy.

The ballots of November spoke with the voices of those long marginalized or erased. They speak through trans people demanding respect, through couples defending their love, through young activists who refuse to be silenced, through believers who fight for an inclusive faith, and through families who still believe in a possible America. In the midst of fear, the nation chose hope. And that hope — imperfect, fragile, yet alive — may be the beginning of a new story: one in which equality is no longer a dream, but a promise fulfilled.

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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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