World
LGBTQ community plays integral role in autism advocacy
April 2 is World Autism Acceptance Day
It was never meant to become something big.
When I say that I created the first pro-neurodiversity self-advocacy group in Russia and Ukraine, made by autistic people for autistic people, everyone imagines something grand. But it wasn’t. We had three blogs. One of them was updated every day at first, then every two days, with original translations of blog posts, personal stories, and studies about autism and neurodiversity, as well as articles written by our autistic followers.
We held a peer support group meeting once every two weeks, provided one-to-one peer support online, and sometimes offered legal and psychological advice. We also organized workshops for solicitors, psychologists, and social workers, took part in public protests, and distributed free materials.
But all of it was just me and volunteers that were coming and leaving. We had some donations, but we never had any grants while I was living in Russia, nor any sponsors. We have never had an office. The biggest support we received came from our subscribers, most of whom were queer, and from LGBTQ groups.
And here is the important part of the story: from the very beginning, we were LGBTQ-friendly, and queer people played a key role in the existence of my Autistic Initiative for Civil Rights.
Today, on World Autism Acceptance Day, I want to tell a story about how the autistic self-advocacy community in Russia, Ukraine, the U.S, Australia and the UK worked side by side with the LGBTQ movement — and how LGBTQ autistic people changed the pro-neurodiversity movement, using my personal journey and the story of one group as an example.
When I was 17, I started to realize that I might be autistic. There wasn’t much information about autism in my home city, Donetsk, in Ukraine — most post-Soviet psychiatrists believed that autism was a form of childhood schizophrenia, and my parents believed that my autistic behavior was the devil’s work. It wouldn’t be surprising to say they thought the same about my queerness.
So I started digging online, and from the very beginning, the work of three amazing queer autistic authors stood out to me.
Jim Sinclair, a pioneer of the modern pro-neurodiversity movement and the leader of one of the first autistic self-advocacy groups Autistic Network International, is an openly intersex person.
Ly Xīnzhèn Zhǎngsūn Brown is a queer, nonbinary transgender activist who developed an educational program about autism for police in the U.S. Like me, they grew up among intensely conservative and religious people and were interested in the Middle East and politics.
And finally, Julia Bascom, a lesbian woman, wrote the essay “Quiet Hands” about stimming, which deeply resonated with teenage me after my parents’ constant attempts to make my body language more “normal.”
These were people whose writing saved me from suicidal thoughts created by toxic ideas promoted in the Russian- and Ukrainian-language internet at the time — the idea that autistic people are a burden and would never be accepted as they are.
These amazing American queer autistics also made me question my own queerphobic thoughts. At the time, I was an extremely religious Christian, with severe OCD around prayer and a constant fear of going to hell. For the first time, I read statistics showing that autistic people are more likely to be queer. Actually, now we know that they are up to six times more likely to be trans and nearly three times more likely to be LGB.
As a young person who had decided to make autism acceptance the work of my life, I began to think that maybe it wasn’t so frightening to be openly queer. After all, if I believed that God never made mistakes and that I was destined to be autistic, then perhaps some people were destined to be queer as well.
When Donetsk was occupied by pro-Russian forces in 2014, and my family moved to Russia (political consistency had never been their strong point), I moved in with my autistic best friend in St. Petersburg, who later became my wife.
And so, away from my abusive parents, my work in autism advocacy began. But it was autistic activists who helped me to realise that I’m queer and accept it.
LGBTQ activists were our first real supporters. My first public speech about autistic acceptance was at a Rainbow Tea meeting, a space for LGBTQ teenagers. Our autistic peer support group took place in LGBT community center, such as the Coming Out group in St. Petersburg (now recognized as an extremist organization), and the Deystvie community center.
The Alliance of Heterosexuals and LGBT for Equality was our main partner in organising autistic public actions and protests, contacting Russian liberal media, and, finally, I became one of the leaders of the first Russian LGBTQ-disability group, Queer Peace. It worked side by side with my autistic informational projects, organizing workshops and masterclasses for solicitors, psychologists, and LGBTQ group leaders to bring inclusion into LGBTQ services.
Meanwhile, autism initiatives led by non-autistic people and supporters of social Darwinism were often strongly homophobic or considered work with the LGBTQ community — or support for LGBTQ autistic people — to be “unbeneficial.”
Of course, even within Russian LGBTQ organizations, it wasn’t all inclusive. Many high-ranking LGBTQ leaders in Russia are still ableist, at least on an everyday level. But when LGBTQ community in the West began moving towards disability inclusion, post-Soviet countries followed that trend.
More importantly, my LGBTQ-autistic projects were supported by other autistic queer people, including folks from Indigenous nations under Russian control, people from villages, and those from unsupportive families.
Autistic queer people in Ukraine soon started their own — often stronger — work in promoting neurodiversity and LGBTQ rights, both within LGBTQ communities and in wider society. In part, this was because they knew Ukrainian much better than I did. Although I understand Ukrainian and can use it, it has never been my mother tongue.
Also, a Russian vlogger and autism support group leader, Jarry, a trans autistic person, began creating the first accessible video materials about autism, sharing many stories from the perspective of autistic AFAB people.
More and more autistic people in post-Soviet countries began to argue that autism is wrongly framed as a disorder, even if it can be a disability due to the misunderstanding and discrimination autistic people face — and queer people were ahead of this shift.
Finally, Bascom, the same American autistic lesbian who inspired me as a teenager and later the executive director of the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network, began mentoring our translation projects, including brochures and free books from English into Russian. The Autistic Women and Nonbinary Network, one of the most trans-inclusive and intersectional groups in the U.S., also showed us full support.
In Australia, Beinannon Lee, an autistic lesbian raising children with her wife, helped us share parenting advice for post-Soviet autistic parents and parents of autistic children. As part of the Autistic Family Collective, she opened new perspectives on homeschooling for neurodivergent families worldwide, while also showing that same-sex couples can be deeply supportive and respectful parents.
When I was stuck in Israel for four months while trying to obtain an American visa, the first organisation that supported my autistic initiative was an LGBTQ group in Tel Aviv that also supported Palestinian refugees and refugees from African countries. In the UK, Lesbian Asylum Support Sheffield was the first LGBTQ group I connected with — and the first to ask me to help with inclusion. Autistic UK, an autistic-led organization, was the first autistic group I worked with here and showed strong queer inclusivity.
And if you go to Trans Day of Remembrance events or trans protests in Sheffield, you will see just how many autistic activists are there.
In my 11 years of LGBTQ and autism activism, I have seen how much autistic and LGBTQ people have done for each other — and how those who are both queer and autistic continue to fight for their rights. It is something stronger than borders, stronger than any one country’s direction. Now, when politicians around the world are arguing against the rights of trans people to be themselves, attacking LGBTQ rights, and trying to dehumanize autistic people and take away our agency, we need to remember this — and stay together.
Honduras
Realidad LGBTQ en Honduras: fuga o muerte
Observatorio KAI+: 35 asesinatos anti-LGBTQ en 2026
TEGUCIGALPA, Honduras — Las cifras encienden todas las alarmas: 35 muertes violentas de personas LGBTQ, 195 casos de violencia generalizada y 11 personas asistidas para refugiarse en el extranjero. Las mujeres trans encabezan las víctimas mortales con 11 casos, seguidas de los hombres gay con 10.
Esa es la realidad de las poblaciones sexualmente diversas que pinta el boletín número 14 del Observatorio de Violencia hacia las Personas LGBTI+ de Honduras KAI+, correspondiente al período de enero al 8 de agosto de 2026.
Según el informe, los departamentos con mayor concentración de asesinatos son Francisco Morazán (12), Cortés (5) y Comayagua (4). Sin embargo, el dato más revelador de la impunidad es que los 35 casos permanecen en etapa de investigación preliminar, con apenas dos capturas reportadas.
«No queremos vivir con miedo»: defensores
Lucía Barrientos, de la Asociación Ixchel, resume el sentimiento colectivo. «Hoy las personas LGBTI en Honduras vivimos en estado de alerta. Muertes que, al hacer un análisis, tienen una conmoción de que muchas personas de nuestra población han sido torturadas, que han sido crímenes de odio», señala.
Barrientos subraya que en el país no hay una ley que tipifique el crimen de odio, lo que deja a la población en un limbo legal y expuesta a la violencia sin protección efectiva.
Entretanto, Jennifer Córdoba, de la Colectiva de Mujeres Trans Muñecas de Arcoíris, lamenta que las autoridades no estén haciendo nada para defender los derechos humanos.
«Ver ese tipo de violencias en el país que se incrementan, ver que las autoridades de nuestro país no están haciendo nada para la defensa de los derechos humanos, no crear una política pública que respete los derechos humanos de la población LGTBI», afirma Córdoba.
Violencia generalizada y discriminación sistemática
Los 195 casos de violencia generalizada incluyen amenazas (19), maltrato familiar (25), abuso de autoridad (14), discriminación por orientación sexual o identidad de género (14), lesiones (10) y agresiones sexuales. Las mujeres trans son nuevamente las más afectadas, con 32 casos registrados.
Dany Montesinos, de la Asociación LGBTI Kukulcán, advierte: «Esta es una violencia general, estructurada. No tenemos un patrón determinado. La alerta que estamos poniendo es que, en comparación con otros años, esto está siendo más creciente».
Un elemento crítico señalado por el boletín es que casi el 70 por ciento de los casos de violencia generalizada (137 de 195) carecen de categorización desagregada sobre la orientación sexual o identidad de género de la víctima, lo que evidencia la ausencia de protocolos adecuados por parte de las instituciones estatales y una invisibilización sistemática.
Migración forzada, huir para vivir
Entre los hallazgos más dolorosos está la asistencia a 11 personas LGBTQ que han buscado refugio en el extranjero. Ocho se han ido a Estados Unidos, dos a España y una al Reino Unido. Los motivos incluyen amenazas, discriminación, abuso de autoridad, agresiones sexuales y físicas.
Como señala un testimonio: «Tuvieron que irse, se vieron obligadas a huir por amenazas, por la discriminación, por el abuso de autoridad y agresiones sexuales. Estos datos nos muestran que la migración de las personas LGBTI no responde únicamente a razones económicas, sino a la necesidad urgente de proteger su vida y sus derechos».
Recomendaciones ante un Estado ausente
El boletín concluye con un llamado urgente al Estado hondureño. Exige fortalecer las investigaciones de muertes violentas e implementar políticas públicas de protección integral. Además, capacitar a funcionarios en diversidad sexual y derechos humanos y garantizar que los casos avancen más allá de la etapa preliminar.
Barrientos lo resume con claridad. «Exigimos al Estado respuestas inmediatas, justicia y protección real para nuestra población. No queremos retroceder, no queremos volver atrás, no queremos vivir con miedo, no queremos salir a la calle y saber que no puedo expresar mi amor hacia mi pareja o hacia otra persona porque puedo amar y ser muerta».
El Observatorio KAI+ recuerda que detrás de cada cifra hay seres humanos: madres, padres, hijos, hermanos y familias que dependen de ellos. La indiferencia institucional, advierten, no puede seguir siendo una puerta abierta a la impunidad.
Netherlands
Trans, nonbinary Americans find refuge in the Netherlands
DAFT visa offers fast-track to permanent residency, citizenship
Editor’s note: International News Editor Michael K. Lavers and Photo Editor Michael Key were on assignment in the Netherlands from July 28-Aug. 10.
AMSTERDAM — A transgender American couple who live in the Netherlands say President Donald Trump prompted them to leave the U.S.
Jack Reaves, who is a trans man, and his wife, Iskara McCoy, who is a trans woman of color, moved to the Netherlands from Reno, Nev., in 2024. The couple now lives outside Utrecht, a university city that is roughly 30 miles south-southeast of Amsterdam.
“We’d been keeping an eye on things during his (Trump’s) first term in 2016, which was pretty terrifying,” Reaves told the Washington Blade on Aug. 24 during a WhatsApp interview with him and McCoy. “We knew that there was a lot of anti-trans legislation and just anti-trans feelings from the Republican/MAGA party at the time.”
The Biden-Harris administration took office on Jan. 20, 2021, two weeks after thousands of Trump supporters stormed the U.S. Capitol — the insurrection took place shortly after Congress began to certify the results of the 2020 presidential election that Joe Biden won.
“Joe Biden was elected, and we were like, okay, well maybe things will turn around,” said Reaves. “But it was very clear very early on in the Biden presidency that that wasn’t going to happen.”
“There weren’t any meaningful changes, and then with Trump getting ready to win the next election and MAGA really looking like they were going to continue to gain more power, we were like, well time to get out.”
Reaves and McCoy are two of the four trans and nonbinary Americans who have moved to the Netherlands with whom the Blade recently spoke. The interviews took place during World Pride, which took place in Amsterdam from July 25-Aug. 8, or in the days after the biennial event ended.
The Dutch American Friendship Treaty, or DAFT, allows American citizens to live and work in the Netherlands as self-employed entrepreneurs.
DAFT visa recipients must keep at least €4,500 ($5,244.19) in a Dutch business bank account and need to register their business with the Dutch Chamber of Commerce. DAFT visa recipients can apply for permanent residency in the Netherlands or the European Union seven years after they receive it.
Reaves and McCoy and the two other trans and nonbinary Americans with whom the Blade spoke for this story either received a DAFT visa or plan to apply for one.
Kai, who is nonbinary, and their husband, who is a trans man, moved from New England to the Netherlands in August 2021. They now live in Haarlem, a small city that is roughly 12 miles west of Amsterdam.
Kai told the Blade on Aug. 20 during an interview from their home that friends moved to the Netherlands in 2017 after they received a DAFT visa.
“The prompt was the 2016 election for them,” said Kai.
Kai and their husband were living in a collective household in August 2020 when they “decided we wanted to have some kind of change.”
“We suspected that politics was going to get worse, even if it got better soon, that it would probably get worse again later, and that the country politically was going downhill,” they said.
Kai told the Blade a lack of promised disability payments and poor health in the U.S. were also factors.
“When I had been to visit the Netherlands to visit the friends that were living here, I found that my body was healthier, even though I was only here for one or two weeks at a time,” they said. “I was able to do more things, eat more things that I couldn’t go or eat while living in the U.S.”
The fourth American with whom the Blade spoke identifies as a “disabled transgender queer” person. He asked to remain anonymous.
He and his daughter, who is also trans, arrived in the Netherlands in July. He referred to the Holocaust and its impact in the Netherlands when the Blade interviewed him in Amsterdam on Aug. 6.
“I’m the trans parent of a trans adolescent who knows our family history, which includes genocide from the Holocaust,” he said, pointing out 85 percent of Dutch Jews died in the Holocaust. “(My daughter) said my grandparents came to New York right before the occupation, and so my daughter said from our history that targeted communities have to get out early, so this was last summer, so how will we know we need to leave and where will we go?”
“I started looking into that, and we started planning our move,” he added.
He pointed out the “murder of opposition politicians” — specifically former Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark Hortman, who were shot to death inside their home in June 2025 — and “harassment and prosecution” of journalists in the U.S. — federal authorities in January arrested former CNN anchor Don Lemon less than two weeks after he entered a Minnesota church with a group of protesters who confronted its pastor who works with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement — since the Trump-Vance administration took office as signs he and his daughter may need to leave the U.S.
Federal authorities charged Lemon, independent journalist Georgia Fort and two protesters with conspiracy and interfering with worshippers’ First Amendment rights during the protest.
An ICE agent on Jan. 7 shot and killed Renee Good, a 37-year-old Minneapolis woman who left behind her wife and three children. U.S. Customs and Border Protection agents on Jan. 24 shot and killed Alex Pretti, a 37-year-old nurse who worked for the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs in Minneapolis.
Pretti and Good were American citizens.
The shootings took place after the Trump-Vance administration deployed thousands of federal immigration agents to Minnesota during “Operation Metro Surge.”
“We were thinking, depending on what happens with the midterms,” said the trans person in Amsterdam with whom the Blade spoke. “But then you’re like, you know what, every day more people are coming and we should just do this thing.”
The Trump-Vance administration since it took office on Jan. 20, 2025, has implemented several anti-trans executive orders and policies.
Trump hours after his second inauguration signed the “Defending Women from Gender Ideology Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government” that, among other things, declared the federal government will only recognize two genders: male and female. The directive also banned the State Department from issuing passports with “X” gender markers.
The Pentagon reinstated a ban on openly trans servicemembers. The Department of Education has rescinded agreements with school districts that were designed to protect trans students. The Trump-Vance administration’s anti-terrorism strategy specifically targets “radically pro-transgender” groups.
The U.S. Supreme Court earlier this summer upheld state laws banning athletes from school sports teams that correspond with their gender identity and block gender-affirming care for minors. The Trump-Vance administration since it took office has moved aggressively to curtail these treatments.
“On the one hand, it’s like as if people don’t recognize that that these things make it impossible to have a trans life,” said the trans person with whom the Blade spoke in Amsterdam. “But of course, that’s what Project 2025 is trying to do … make it be impossible to exist.”
McCoy said her and Reaves’s oldest child, who is also trans, has an “X” gender marker on their U.S. passport. McCoy’s grandmother with whom she was very close recently died, but her family attended her funeral virtually from the Netherlands “because we didn’t want to risk returning to the States at that point.”
Kai also noted trans and nonbinary Americans who are trying to leave the U.S., but don’t have passports and other documents with gender markers that match their gender identity.
“That’s terrifying, and it prevents you from doing things like leaving the country,” they said. “Even if it’s not a ban on leaving the country, it still prevents you from leaving the country if those things don’t match in the right way, depending on which immigrations person you get at the border.”
“On this end it wouldn’t matter as much,” added Kai. “But on the other end, it does matter and that is super frustrating and exhausting.”
Dutch ‘very into their bureaucracy’
Kai and the three other trans and nonbinary Americans with whom the Blade spoke said navigating the Dutch health care system upon their arrival in the Netherlands was one of their biggest challenges.
“They’re very into their bureaucracy and they’re very into following guidelines as if they’re laws, and they’re the only ways you do things,” said McCoy. “Once they start working for you. They work. Once you’re in the system, once you’re onboarded, once they’re caught up, then everything goes pretty smoothly.”
Reaves noted McCoy “had a little bit easier time as a trans woman who’s already passing.”
“They were just like, oh, well, it’s clear you’re a woman, so here’s your hormones, and here’s the fast path to diagnostics,” Reaves told the Blade.
Reaves, on the other hand, had been on testosterone for six years before he and McCoy moved to the Netherlands. Reaves said it took nearly a “full year of re-diagnostics before I could get back on testosterone and continue to determine care.”
“They were just like, ‘Well, you kind of look like a woman, so we’re gonna make you do the full diagnostic phase again,’” recalled Reaves.
Reaves told the Blade his doctor prescribed him the wrong type of testosterone. Health clinics that specifically treat trans and nonbinary people use what he described as “extremely outdated language,” but Reaves noted the facility’s doctor helped him get an appointment for his top surgery.
“Now that I’m fully onboarded, I think it’s actually been a little bit better than the U.S.,” he said, noting he receives testosterone blood tests at home. “The follow-ups are really easy.”
Kai also discussed the challenges navigating the Dutch health care system.
They said it would “have been a lot harder to receive care” if they had already undergone hormone replacement therapy, seen a psychiatrist, or had had surgeries. Kai told the Blade they “made the choice” to tell the clinic where they were receiving care that they were a man, as opposed to saying they are nonbinary.
“That’s not true, but I look enough like a man, and then I’m going to get the care that I need,” they said. “I’m sure it’s very different and difficult for folks, especially who are nonbinary, to say I am actually a woman, or I am actually a man, and to pretend that … and that’s still what the system says.”
“Just like with any system, if you want to get your needs met from the system, sometimes you have to meet the system where it’s at, and then once you get your needs met, then outside of the system you can be whoever you want,” Kai added.
Kai noted Dutch activists are “working to get some of those laws and some of those policies changed.” Their husband is working with one group “that is working to change things from if you don’t have a psychological diagnosis of being trans, then getting that care is going to be really hard.”
“What this group is working on is trying to get trans care to be — it’s what they use in the U.S., which is like informed consent, which is not what they use here,” said Kai. “But they’re working on putting together something to like push to governmental level to policy level to say that trans care should be informed consent, not the diagnosis.”
Gay PM: Netherlands needs to do more to defend trans people, rights
The Netherlands in 2001 became the first country in the world to extend marriage rights to same-sex couples.
The country’s nondiscrimination and hate crimes law include gender identity and expression. The Dutch government in 2021 formally apologized to trans and intersex people who were forced to become sterile in order to legally change their gender — The Gender Change Act, which was also known as the Transgender Act — was in place from 1985 until 2014.
Prime Minister Rob Jetten, who is the country’s first openly gay head of government, during a World Pride Human Rights Conference panel conceded the Netherlands needs to do more to defend trans people and their rights. Boris Dittrich, the Dutch Senate’s First Vice President and a member of Jetten’s D66 party who was previously global advocacy director for Human Rights Watch’s LGBTQ Rights Program, at the end of the panel asked about protecting intersex babies from what advocates maintain are unnecessary surgeries.
Reaves admitted he and his children are struggling to learn Dutch, but he added he and his family “appreciate” the Netherlands and “really enjoy living here.”
“I struggle in the Netherlands,” Reaves told the Blade. “I don’t speak the language
“It’s hard being away from home and your own culture and the things you grew up with,” he said. “But I’m safe here, and so that like gives it extra points.”
McCoy said their daughter has “experienced zero transphobia here so far.”
Kai told the Blade that their friends warned them that Dutch people would “call you out or they’ll stare at you or will be mean to you” if they “look nonbinary.”
“I had never had that experience,” they said.
All four of the people with whom the Blade spoke said they plan to apply for their Dutch or EU citizenship once they are legally able to do so. They all expressed reservations about returning to the U.S., even once the Trump-Vance administration is no longer in office.
“I’m actually very nervous that even if things turn around in the U.S. as far as getting rid of Trump, that people are still going to be anti-trans,” said the trans person with whom the Blade spoke in Amsterdam. “The poison’s in the water.”
Reaves said the U.S. “doesn’t really feel like it’s a safe place for trans people to come to.” McCoy added she would consider visiting the U.S., but “I would not move back.”
“That’s too risky,” she said. “It can change anytime.”
“It would probably take like a decade of democratic legislative changes before I would feel safe coming back,” added Reaves.
Canada
Monument to LGBTQ Canadians officially unveiled
Thunderhead honors those who suffered government-sanctioned discrimination
A monument that pays tribute to LGBTQ Canadians who suffered government-sanctioned persecution and discrimination officially opened in Ottawa on Aug. 21.
Former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, Governor General Louise Arbour, and Women and Gender Equality Minister Rechie Valdez are among those who attended the ceremony.
A Canadian government press release notes Thunderhead, which is located on Parliament Hill, “recognizes the historic discrimination faced by 2SLGBTQI+ (two-spirit, lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, queer, intersex, plus) people in Canada, including during the LGBT (lesbiennes, gaies, bisexuelles, trans) Purge.”
(French and English are Canada’s official languages.)
Trudeau in 2017 formally apologized to Canadians who suffered persecution and discrimination under the country’s anti-LGBTQ laws — including those convicted of “gross indecency” before Canada decriminalized consensual same-sex sexual relations — and policies. Trudeau also formally apologized to those who were fired from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the country’s military and civil service from the 1950s to the mid-1990s because of their sexual orientation or gender identity.
The Canadian government later settled a class action lawsuit that LGBT Purge victims filed.
The settlement funded the monument.
The Canadian government’s press release notes an “all Canadian team” from Winnipeg, Manitoba, designed it. The monument is also located on the Anishinabe Algonquin Nation’s traditional territory.
“It celebrates the resilience and achievements of those who fought for equality, educates visitors, and inspires the change still needed so that everyone can openly love who they love and express and identify themselves as they choose,” reads the press release.
“Thunderhead stands as a tribute to the lives, stories, and contributions of 2SLGBTQI+ people across Canada,” said Prime Minister Mark Carney on Facebook. “It’s reminder of the discrimination too many endured — and honors those who fought to build a country where everyone can live freely, safely, and with dignity.”
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