National
Gay men, ketamine, and trauma. A therapy or a trap?
For many, the escape doesn’t last
Uncloseted Media published this article on Jan. 24.
This story was produced with the support of MISTR, a telehealth platform offering free online access to PrEP, DoxyPEP, STI testing, Hepatitis C testing and treatment and long-term HIV care across the U.S. MISTR did not have any editorial input into the content of this story.
This story talks about addiction and substance use. If you or someone you know needs help, resources can be found here.
By SAM DONNDELINGER | In 2015, on the patio of Nowhere Bar, a queer nightclub in Louisville, Ky., music pulsed and bodies pressed as 23-year-old Lucas Pearson moved through the flashing lights and a blur of grinding limbs.
“I just randomly started talking to this guy,” he recalls. “He had this little spoon on a necklace, scooped out a hit of white powder, and handed it to me.”
Pearson sniffed it. Euphoria washed over him, time began to slow and the dancing bodies faded into a soft haze. For more than 10 minutes, Pearson felt “entirely present.” His social anxiety, depression, and any sadness he was feeling melted away.
While Pearson wouldn’t use ketamine again for the next five years, he says the feeling of ease the drug gave him was always “in the back of [his] mind.” So when he tried it for a second time in 2020 at a farm in upstate Kentucky, he liked the way it felt to disassociate from his childhood trauma.
“We got really messed up that night on it, and I was like, ‘I love this. I’ve missed this,’” Pearson told Uncloseted Media. “‘And I’m ready for some more.’”
Over the next three years, Pearson began using every day. Working remotely in the health care industry, no one checked in on him as long as he got his work done. He used ketamine at nightclubs, social events, game nights with friends and, eventually, at home alone.
“I was actively hooked on it,” he says. “I didn’t wanna do much of anything other than find that dissociating feeling. I just kept chasing it.”
While evidence suggests that most psychedelics have a lower risk of addiction than other drugs, ketamine is an exception, in part because it affects dopamine levels. In a 2007 bulletin from the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, one researcher noted that after ketamine was invented in 1962, it developed a “reputation for insidiously trapping those who really knew better.” As a dissociative drug, ketamine induces a sense of detachment from one’s body, producing a trance-like state marked by pain relief, amnesia, euphoria, and a distortion of reality.
Despite declines in the use of other recreational drugs such as cocaine, ecstasy and nitrous oxide, ketamine use continues to rise, with one study finding that use increased by 81.8 percent from 2015 to 2019 and rose another 40 percent from 2021 to 2022. That increase is driven in part by ketamine’s growing legitimacy as a treatment for depression, anxiety, OCD, trauma, and even addiction.
As a result, ketamine clinics have proliferated across the U.S. with relatively few guardrails. At least a thousand clinics now offer off-label ketamine treatments outside of FDA-approved protections. Many commercial providers advertise same-day appointments and “almost immediate results.”
Alex Belser, a psychologist who studies psychedelic use in the queer community, says ketamine use has become pervasive among gay men. A 2025 study found that gay and lesbian adults in the U.S. are almost four times more likely to use ketamine than their heterosexual counterparts, and a 2011 study from the U.K. found that queer men were over three times more likely than queer women to use the drug.
Belser thinks ketamine use is so popular among gay men in part because of the high rates of loneliness, rejection, and trauma they experience. “Ketamine is not inherently good or bad. When used thoughtfully with integrity, with good protocols, it can be a really helpful medicine. But if left unregulated, with the amount of access and normalization we have, it can lead to addiction, harm, isolation, and bad outcomes,” he says.
Belser believes health misinformation is fueling a misunderstanding among gay men about the actual harm the drug can cause. “The medical and clinical communities have failed people by not adequately telling them that ketamine can lead to addiction and problematic outcomes,” he says. “It can serve people, but it can also damage people.”
‘Happy people don’t do ketamine’
Part of the appeal of ketamine is that dissociative feelings can relieve depressive symptoms, making it alluring to those who have trauma or mental health disorders. While properly regulated treatment works for some people, psychiatrist Owen Bowden-Jones says that he senses “the vast majority [of those addicted] are using it to self-medicate for emotional distress.”
“I always wanted to numb out my past,” says Pearson. “For the longest time, I saw ketamine as a possible way out.”
Pearson, now 33, was raised in a conservative and religious family. When he came out as gay to his mom at 16, he cried so much that he couldn’t speak and had to write it on a piece of paper and hand it to her.
“She stormed out of the house and ended up calling every member of the family and outing me. So that was really painful,” he says. “My whole childhood, I did not feel like I could be who I knew I was.”
“So when I picked up drugs, it was definitely a thought in my mind: This life that I lived as a child, I don’t want to feel it anymore,” he says. “I just want to numb it.”
One study shows that gay men are over three times as likely to develop PTSD compared to their heterosexual counterparts. Trauma can be one event or a “long string of daily hurts, such as … homophobia, bullying, and time spent in the closet,” according to Chris Tompkins, a licensed family therapist who works with gay men. Research shows that people who experience trauma are more likely to have addiction issues.
J, a 33-year-old marketing researcher based in Los Angeles, says his ketamine use began casually in his early 20s in New York’s queer nightlife scene, where the drug circulated freely. What started as an occasional escape intensified during the pandemic, when isolation, depression, and easy access turned ketamine into a daily habit.
“There’s a pretty fair connection between feelings of not being normal and my ketamine addiction,” J told Uncloseted Media. “I was bullied for being more feminine. My sexuality was a subject of speculation and that forced me to close down. So something like a dissociative drug is appealing because it either allows me to continue those blocks or to bring down the barriers.”
“There was a night when I had done K for the first time in a while, and the next couple of days, I felt so good,” he says. “I felt like my depression had lifted, and that feeling of doubt and fear I’d had throughout my life was totally gone.”
After that night, J, who asked to use a first initial to protect his identity, started using ketamine daily to chase the feeling of euphoria and relief. He got a prescription for ketamine treatment therapy, but he says it wasn’t enough.
“There were days when I would go do an infusion of ketamine and I would do more at home on my own. If I have the ability to escape feelings, to numb feelings, I will go after that.”
Many ketamine clinics in the U.S. advertise ketamine therapy as a cure-all. For example, the online clinic Better U promises that ketamine therapy will help you say goodbye to “Trauma,” “Chronic Stress,” “Depression and Anxiety,” “OCD,” “PTSD” and “Grief.”
What the clinic doesn’t note on its landing page is the possibility of addiction, which is what happened to J. While a common dose of ketamine is between 30-75 mg, J began using multiple grams a day. He spent thousands of dollars a month on ketamine and began structuring his life around the drug. “It stopped being about going out or having fun,” he says. “It just became what I did day in and day out.”
“Happy people don’t do ketamine,” Tasha, who is in recovery from a six-year-long addiction, told Uncloseted Media. She first tried the drug for fun at 17, but it became a problem after her father died when she was 26. At her peak, she was taking six to nine grams every day and up to 24 grams over the weekends.
“The wheels just fell off,” she says. “It’s an escapism drug — of course people with more trauma will do it more. You want to forget about everything so you take it and then it stops becoming fun and you don’t want to see your friends anymore. You just stay in your home behind closed doors sniffing K to get out of your head.”
The physical consequences of ketamine
Tasha didn’t know that chronic ketamine use can cause inflammation, ulceration, and damage or scarring to the bladder, liver, kidneys, and gallbladder. After using it for six years, she checked herself into the intensive care unit.
“I was just writhing in pain from K cramps, like a sharp stabbing pain under your ribs,” she says. “The trouble is, nothing works to fix them. The only thing that helps is doing more K. I had no idea it was so painful,” says Tasha, adding that she’s seen four people die from ketamine addiction in the last three years.
“There were times in my use where I would be screaming in bed in the worst agony I’ve ever felt in my life,” J says. “The only thing that made the pain better was using more drugs. It got to the point that I needed to have some amount of K in my system to function.”
“There is a massive explosion of ketamine use and addiction,” Mo Belal, a consultant urological surgeon and an expert on the severe bladder and kidney damage caused by chronic ketamine abuse, told Uncloseted Media. “The trouble is, it’s impossible to treat bladder and kidney damage when people are still using.”
Belal says that for those seeking treatment, there are no specific ketamine rehabilitation programs in the U.S. “Addiction and pain management services need to be involved in healing from ketamine abuse, because the drug’s effects often require specialized support.”
Belal says that during a one-hour rehab session, someone experiencing severe ketamine-related bladder pain might need to leave every 20 minutes, making it difficult for the patient to stay engaged.
“We need more awareness,” he says. “We need more centers for ketamine rehabilitation.”
Education and awareness
While there is some research about the effects of ketamine, Belser could not point to any studies that focus on how the drug intersects with gay men experiencing trauma. “The community of ketamine researchers and prescribers has been naive historically in understanding the habit-forming properties of ketamine,” he says. “What are the effects of ketamine use, good or bad, for gay men experiencing trauma, lifelong discrimination, and family rejection? We don’t know, because critical research hasn’t been funded.”
The Drug Enforcement Administration classifies ketamine’s abuse potential as moderate to low, a designation that may contribute to limited public education about its risks, including dependence and long-term side effects. Many people who encounter ketamine on the dance floor think it’s a healthy alternative to alcohol because they believe it’s non-addictive and it doesn’t give you a hangover.
“I did think that it was pretty safe when I was using and I didn’t think it was going to be addictive,” Pearson says.
Pearson, who has been clean for two years, says it wasn’t until he reached out to a friend who had recovered from ketamine use that he began getting clean. “I saw how happy my friend was in recovery, how normal his life felt. … And I knew that was the life I wanted.”
Similarly, for J, he felt alone in his ketamine addiction. It wasn’t until he found a queer-centered substance rehab program in LA that he felt some hope.
“It helped patch some of the missing pieces to my experiences in treatment before,” he says. “I think that relapse is a part of every addict’s story and every recovery story. But I think my relapses indicated that I still had some unresolved trauma and deep wounds that I hadn’t been aware of yet. And I think being around queer people in recovery has been helpful for me to feel a lot more comfortable with myself.”
Today, J is in therapy, continuing to break down the walls of his childhood trauma. Pearson is in a 12-step program after doing intensive therapy in his first few months of sobriety to help “clear up a lot of traumatic things that happened” in his past.
“I finally realized how far I’d drifted from everyone in my life — my friends, my family, even myself,” Pearson says. “I was chasing this feeling of disappearance, and it almost cost me everything. If I hadn’t stopped when I did, I don’t think I’d still be here. Getting sober gave me my life back, and I don’t ever want to lose that again.”
New York
NYC lawmakers seek to repeal bathhouse ban
Current policy enacted in 1980s in response to AIDS crisis
New York City lawmakers are pushing to repeal a decades-old prohibition on adult bathhouses, arguing the regulation was created during the height of the AIDS crisis and no longer reflects modern science or public health practices.
Erik Bottcher, the openly gay New York state senator who represents the 47th District that includes the Upper West Side, Chelsea, Hell’s Kitchen and portions of the West Village in Manhattan, is leading the charge to remove the decades-old ban. (Openly gay state Assemblymember Tony Simone has sponsored the repeal bill in the New York State Assembly.) Bottcher sat down with the Washington Blade to discuss why he is advocating for more bathhouses in New York City.
“This is simply about ensuring that our public health policy is in line with today’s science,” he told the Blade. “The prohibition on adult bathhouses was put into place in 1985 at the height of the the AIDS epidemic, when there was very little information, very little treatment options, few treatment options, and great deal of fear. Science has changed. Treatment has changed, and the laws need to change too.”
The proposed legislation would direct the New York State Department of Health to repeal the 1985 regulation and establish a new framework for regulating bathhouses.
“Municipalities around the country and all around the world allow for adult bathhouses. There’s no reason why New York City alone needs to maintain this outdated prohibition. Our bill orders the New York State Department of Health to strike the 1985 regulation and replace it with a regulated public health framework that’s grounded in science.”
Under the proposal, bathhouses would operate as licensed and regulated facilities subject to health and safety standards. Backers of the proposal say that framework could also give public health officials greater access to people who may otherwise be difficult to reach through traditional health care settings.
“What the Department of Health would do is work with public health experts and advocates to develop a regulatory framework that allows licensed regulated facilities to operate under clear health and safety standards — and under this — it would allow public health agencies to have greater opportunities to provide STI and HIV prevention resources, connect people to testing and treatment, conduct instructions, and address legitimate health concerns.”
Supporters of the repeal also argue banning bathhouses does not eliminate the sexual activity that takes place in them or elsewhere. Instead, they say, it pushes those activities into the shadows, where public health officials have fewer opportunities to provide life-saving services that include STI and HIV testing.
“This is also about a safer alternative than pushing activity into unregulated settings where there’s little opportunity for public health engagement because these activities are happening, but they’re happening in the shadows,” Bottcher continued. “We know that the best public health policy is to establish clear public safe public health guidelines that allow for public health intervention.”
Demetre Daskalakis, a physician and longtime HIV prevention advocate who has worked to create sexual healthcare opportunities in bathhouses, also worked with Bottcher on the proposal.
Daskalakis was a high level Centers for Disease Control and Prevention employee until 2025, when he left federal health landscape after the Trump-Vance administration ousted then-CDC Director Susan Monarez. There he worked as director of the National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases and was director of the Division of HIV Prevention at the National Center for HIV/AIDS, Viral Hepatitis, STD, and TB Prevention.
Daskalakis explained his experience has shown him the potential for these spaces to become points of contact for people who do not regularly access traditional health care.
“I’ve seen what happens when you push sex into the underground,” he said. “From my perspective, this is a great opportunity to be able to reach people who really will not come to normal clinical care and won’t go to normal routine places for testing or screening.”
“As a public health person, I look at it as a great opportunity,” added Daskalakis. “If there’s like regulation of those venues, and if there’s like a prevention plan that sort of sprouts in those places with really solid public health and clinical partners, I think it’s a great opportunity for public health good.”
Daskalakis said a regulated bathhouse could offer more than HIV and STI testing, potentially creating spaces where people could access prevention medications and other health services.
“The bottom line is if there is a good relationship between the government and the venues, we can develop spaces in the venues to actually deliver services,” he said. “It’s not just infectious disease services — I mean yes, you can do HIV testing, STI testing. You can provide doxypep and pre-exposure prophylaxis for people who are HIV negative and at risk for HIV.
“As an example, at Callen-Lorde Community Health Center (in New York City), where I’m the chief medical officer, we developed a prevention pack in a very low threshold way. We gave people enough doxypep and prep to get through Pride. You can also have Narcan and other things to reduce the risk of overdose.”
Daskalakis said that approach reflects what public health should be striving for: meeting the community where they are.
“If you have this sort of relationship with the government that’s not antagonistic, and the government, as New York is one to do, provides some regulatory oversight to these venues, I think what you’re going to have is a place that supports LGBTQ culture — which also which does include sexuality, and also creates a platform to be able to do like very solid prevention work.”
The public health landscape surrounding HIV has changed dramatically since the bathhouse regulation was adopted, Daskalakis said, pointing to advances in treatment and prevention.
“The bottom line is that HIV treatment and prevention have really converged. If you are someone living with HIV and you’re on HIV medicines and your viral load is undetectable, you don’t transmit HIV. That’s called undetectable is equal to untransmittable, or U = U. People who are on prep also have very low risk of acquiring HIV, and so you know the world is very different,” he said.
“Back in the 80s, when there was no way to impact transmission of HIV because we didn’t have effective ways to prevent it — or didn’t know very much about it at that point. It’s a very different world where we know a lot about HIV and have a lot of tools to be able to prevent transmission. Same with STIs,” added Daskalakis. “If you create a holistic strategy for prevention that is sex positive and aligned to these venues, you’re going to prevent HIV and STIs. Period.”
For supporters of the legislation, that public health argument is central to the effort to repeal the ban. Bottcher also sees the proposal as a way to restore LGBTQ community spaces at a time when many queer venues have disappeared and social interaction increasingly takes place online.
“In this era of social isolation created by social media and streaming services, people are desperate for third spaces,” Bottcher said. “Places for people to come together in person, to be together in person. That’s what this would help provide.”
Daskalakis echoed Bottcher’s point that bathhouses could transform from underground, tabooed spaces into venues that combine sexual health services with broader LGBTQ culture.
“When you make them illegal, they become seedy and dark. When you make them something that is allowed, they actually then become sites that may have sex on premises but also support other sorts of cultural things, and in a universe where people are trying to make LGBT folks seem invisible, creating a safe space for them is exactly what we need right now.”
That community-space argument is also tied to health disparities, Bottcher said, arguing that greater access to health education and prevention services could help people who are less likely to seek care through traditional medical settings.
“Creating opportunities for in-person public health education, prevention, treatment that will help improve health outcomes when you push people into less safe settings without any opportunities for education, prevention tools, or treatment. That’s when we see these disparities, these health disparities grow. So it’s very important that we be laser focused on opportunities to address these disparities and reduce them.”
He continued, explaining the proposed change is ultimately about updating public health policy as medical science evolves, just as other practices are updated when new information comes out.
“This is a matter of an outdated public health regulation and the government has a responsibility to continually revisit its public health regulation and ensure that they’re in line with modern day science,” Bottcher said. “Science and healthcare are continually evolving, and the HIV/AIDS prevention and treatment landscape has changed tremendously in the last few years. Our public health regulations need to keep pace with science.”
For LGBTQ New Yorkers who lived through the AIDS crisis, however, changing the policy could carry a different meaning.
Bottcher says the experiences of those who lived through the epidemic — one that killed nearly 300,000 gay men since the 1980s — should inform how any new system is implemented, rather than being dismissed.
“These are in order to help prevent the spread of HIV and AIDS and other STIs,” Bottcher said. “We have to bring people engaging in these activities out of the shadows and into safe settings that provide the opportunity for public health entities to engage with education, treatment, prevention — that’s what this would do.”
Daskalakis said those concerns should be approached through what he described as trauma-informed care.
“My response is that of trauma-informed care,” Daskalakis said. “We have totally been through it, but we need to sort of move past the trauma and realize that the science has changed. I’s not it’s not the ’80s anymore, but we definitely need to look at those folks who have gone through the experience (of the HIV/AIDS crisis) to make sure that what we’re building, from a public health perspective, are effective programs.”
“There’s a great opportunity to learn from folks with experience rather than to alienate them,” he added.
Bottcher also pointed out this policy revision and effort to bring regulations in line with modern science is not only happening in New York. Multiple other cities across the U.S. have moved away from bathhouse prohibitions.
“Minneapolis just passed their ordinance in June,” he said. “San Francisco, despite the fact that they repealed their prohibition some years ago, they are still working to change the policy … However, around the country, even in red states, they have bathhouses … and they haven’t presented a detriment to public health in any way.”
The proposed change could also revive a part of New York’s LGBTQ cultural history, Bottcher said.
“Bathhouses were a big part of gay culture for decades. We all know the legendary stories of Bette Midler and Barry Manilow performing at the Continental Baths. I envision a resurgence of bathhouse culture that includes things like live music, arts, and entertainment. So it’s exciting to think about.”
And if that resurgence happens, Bottcher already has a dream performer in mind to be the first to take the stage.
“Oh, that’s such a good question … Cher.”
Daskalakis picked a similarly essential female singer of gay culture that he’d like to see in the bathhouses of today.
“I feel like my list could be so long, but I think that would be a great place for Madonna.”
The debate over New York’s bathhouse regulation ultimately reflects a broader question about how public health policy should respond as science, medicine, and LGBTQ communities change.
For Bottcher, regulation, rather than prohibition, would give health officials more opportunities to provide prevention and treatment while allowing LGBTQ people to gather openly.
For Daskalakis, the central lesson from his extensive healthcare work in bathhouses is that pushing sexual activity underground will make public health outreach more difficult — the opposite of what the government and healthcare providers should be doing.
“The opportunity to create safe spaces means that we’ll have more opportunities to reach people, not just for public health, but for so many other things … The strategy of banning things that are natural really doesn’t tend to help you very much. It ends up creating misalignment between the community and policymakers.”
U.S. Military/Pentagon
Hegseth uses transphobic slur while campaigning for Iowa congressman
Defense Secretary was speaking in support of Republican Zach Nunn
Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth on Monday used an anti-transgender slur while campaigning for U.S. Rep. Zach Nunn (R-Iowa), drawing attention to the Trump-Vance administration’s ongoing efforts to restrict trans people from serving in the military.
“At the Department of War, we do training, not t***nies,” Hegseth said, according to the Iowa Capital Dispatch, which first reported the remarks.
Hegseth made the comment at JR’s SouthPork Ranch at the Iowa State Fair, where he joined Nunn for a rally. The remark came as Hegseth discussed his priorities for the military and argued that the department’s focus should be on military readiness rather than issues of race or gender.
In the same speech, Hegseth claimed that the military operates without regard to race or gender.
“Training, lethality, accountability, discipline, readiness — the bedrock of what it means to be an American warrior — is the only focus of our department,” Hegseth said. “Colorblind, gender-neutral, merit-based. That’s it.”
Hegseth’s remarks come as the Trump-Vance administration continues its efforts to restrict trans people from serving in the military.
Since President Donald Trump returned to the White House, his administration has moved to remove trans service members from the military while also taking steps to prevent trans people from joining.
Trump signed “Prioritizing Military Excellence and Readiness” in January 2025, which attempts to bars trans individuals from serving or enlisting in the U.S. military, citing “military readiness” as the reason, despite there being no factual basis for the ban. The policy has been challenged by LGBTQ advocates and military service members, who argue there is no evidence that trans service members undermine military readiness.
Earlier this year, Hegseth made headlines again over the administration’s contradictory approach to hormone therapy, as the military moved to restrict gender-affirming hormone treatment for trans service members while encouraging cisgender military members to receive hormone therapy for “low T,” or testosterone.
The administration’s policy has faced a series of legal challenges from trans service members and advocacy groups.
In June, a federal appeals court panel ruled the administration could not discharge the trans service members who brought one of the lawsuits challenging the ban while their case continues, providing a moment of relief amid the administration’s ongoing efforts to restrict trans military service. The Trump-Vance administration has asked the U.S. Supreme Court to review that ruling and, in the meantime, keep it from taking effect.
The Washington Blade reached out to the Pentagon for comment on Hegseth’s use of the slur, but the department did not push back on his choice of words.
“We have nothing further to add beyond the secretary’s remarks,” the statement read.
Illinois
Chicago’s LGBTQ+ youth: Why their zip code still matters
South and West side residents face longer commutes to access affirming services
On Chicago’s West Side, the ballroom scene doubles as a lifeline for LGBTQ+ youth.
Every week, teens are drawn into TaskForce Prevention & Community Services for its popular Vogue School. Once there, they then have access to a variety of resources like housing support, a food pantry, fresh produce, and mental health services.
For many, it’s the only affirming environment in their neighborhood.
“We’re located here in Austin, and there isn’t really any other LGBTQ+ youth program like us on the West Side,” said Reyna Ortiz, program director at the nonprofit. “It’s special because young people don’t have to go Downtown or to the North side to feel like they belong here.”
Ortiz’s perspective underscores a long-standing reality that access to LGBTQ+ youth resources often depends on your zip code.
The city’s largest LGBTQ+ institutions have a prominence on the North Side, which is home to LGBTQ+ enclaves like Northalsted and Andersonville. This can leave queer youth on the South and West sides having to face longer commutes and other barriers when trying to access affirming services.
And when queer youth don’t have these kinds of resources nearby, it can create gaps that shape their health, education and economic futures. But North Side-based institutions—as well as smaller LGBTQ+ orgs on the South and West sides and some citywide organizations—are working to fill these gaps.
Two of Chicago’s largest LGBTQ+ organizations, the Center on Halsted and Howard Brown Health’s Broadway Youth Center, are both situated on the North Side.
At Center on Halsted, 3656 N. Halsted St., youth and family programming spans drop-in spaces, leadership and mentoring opportunities and support groups for LGBTQ+ youth. statewide LGBTQ+ hotline provides additional access for young people beyond its Lakeview base.
CEO Joli Robinson said the Center has been intentional about expanding youth programming beyond the North Side through partnerships with other LGBTQ+ organizations and by introducing programs to its South Side location, the Center on Cottage Grove, 6323 S. Cottage Grove Ave.
“A week or so ago, we started our first drop-in space at the Center on Cottage Grove, which has been a priority for us over the past year and a half that I’ve been with the organization,” Robinson said. “We also partner with organizations like Chicago House and Life is Work, … and work to strengthen relationships with the GSAs in schools and PFLAG organizations that exist on the South and West sides.”
These kinds of collaborations are crucial to reaching LGBTQ+ youth in all neighborhoods of Chicago, Robinson said.
“These are organizations that they may already have a strong relationship with, and by deepening our partnerships with them, we’re leveraging the expertise of people who are in these neighborhoods to make sure we’re working in collaboration,” Robinson said.
The Broadway Youth Center, 1023 W. Irving Park Road, serves LGBTQ+ youth ages 12 to 24, particularly those experiencing homelessness or housing instability. It provides integrated medical and mental health care, sexual and reproductive health services, case management and mental wellness support.
The Broadway Youth Center’s drop-in space also offers meals, clothing, showers and other essentials, while cultural programming like art and dance provides additional affirming outets.
Both organizations state their programs are open to youth citywide and emphasize outreach through hotlines, housing services and broader support networks.
Still, their physical bases on the North Side mean that young people in other parts of the city often face barriers to access them.
“And we don’t want transportation to be a barrier for individuals,” Robinson said. “We don’t want location to be a barrier for individuals to participate in some of our programming, so it really is incumbent upon us to be very strategic and think creatively about how we engage the full city.”
TaskForce is among the organizations working to fill these gaps.
Based in Austin on the West Side, the nonprofit offers youth services that are culturally specific, including housing support, food access, and sexual health testing.
Equally as important is TaskForce’s Vogue School, which uses voguing and ballroom culture to strengthen community and encourage self expression.
“Ballroom is important because it’s the one place where they can showcase their talents, where they can showcase who they are without any type of restrictions, without any type of judgment,” Ortiz said. “Ballroom and vogue are how our kids see themselves celebrated. It’s culture, it’s community, and it’s also leadership development.”
Ortiz said TaskForce also provides a steady presence in a neighborhood where resources are limited.
“We are consistent, we are here, we are present and we are open,” Ortiz said.
TaskForce is also home to PrEP 4 Teens, a citywide program focused on HIV prevention and sexual health among youth. While it’s open to teens across Chicago, staff said they are especially focused on reaching those on the South and West Sides who often face the steepest barriers to access.
“We’re looking to collaborate more with agencies, both in the south and west side of Chicago,” said program lead David Gauna. “We know those are the young people who need us most.”
That focus reflects the larger imbalance in the city.
“It’s about equitable access,” said Jim Pickett, one of the program’s organizers. “And so there’s a real lack of equity throughout Chicago, and we could certainly have a much more equitable distribution of opportunities.”
PrEP4Teens was shaped by youth themselves, Gauna added.
“Young people created this,” Gauna said. “They decided the colors, the imagery, the language. They said, ‘We don’t want this to be medical. We want this to be something fun. We want this to be engaging.’”
That youth-driven design is what makes it resonate, said Skai Underwood, who also runs PrEP4Teens.
“We try to meet youth where they are, and culture is part of that,” Underwood said.
Schools can also play a part in filling these gaps on the South and West sides.
“I think that there’s a great opportunity for schools to be like the glue that brings everything together,” said Julio Flores, program director for the Alliance, which promotes school safety for LGBTQ+ youth through advocacy, education, youth programming and research.
For some students, he said, school-based GSAs are the only affirming space they have.
“A GSA can be the only affirming space a young person has,” Flores said.
And those spaces can change a student’s trajectory, he added.
“When young people can lead a GSA, they’re not just building community, they’re building the skills they’ll use in college, in jobs and in life,” Flores said.
The gaps in geography don’t just shape whether young queer people can find community. They also shape whether they’re set up to succeed.
At TaskForce, Ortiz said success often begins with visibility. Young people who first came in for the Vogue School or drop-in services have gone on to train as medical assistants and phlebotomists.
“Some of our youth that frequent the Vogue School start to volunteer. Then we hire and train them, and now they’re building careers,” Ortiz said.
For youth involved with PrEP 4 Teens, growth is just as tangible.
Gauna said teens were engaged in a program that empowered them to build the look, feel and voice of a PrEP awareness campaign. By the end of the cohort, youth who had once been too shy to speak were leading workshops, presenting artwork and giving speeches.
“They started off super shy… and by the end they were showcasing what this program had done for them — not just to take charge of their sexual health, but to feel a lot more confident in themselves,” Gauna said.
Pickett tied those individual transformations back to the bigger picture.
“So many queer young people of color don’t necessarily have many safe spaces throughout the day in their lives,” he said. “Providing these opportunities to engage with other young people and develop their skills and have fun and be fully who they are is so empowering. It sets them up for success.”
Robinson of Center on Halsted said the link between geography and opportunity often comes down to whether young people have their most immediate needs met close to home. Without food, shelter or a safe place to connect, long-term success could remain out of reach.
“For people to really have the safety and security they need to think about economic development or to be provided with a stronger footing and foundation to focus on maybe college or career, they need to have some of their most basic needs met,” Robinson said.
This article was originally published by the Windy City Times and is part of a national initiative exploring how geography, policy, and local conditions influence access to opportunity. Find more stories at economicopportunitylab.com/
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