Opinions
LGBTQ youth under attack in Florida
Gov. Ron DeSantis putting political ambitions first
I remember the feeling of isolation everywhere I went. I remember the sense of despair when butterflies exploded in my stomach after my crush passed by me in the hallway. I remember the terror that a conversation around the dinner table might expose me for who I was. Being a queer young person meant being perpetually weighed down by the secret I was carrying and tortured by the internalized fear that something about me was broken. No space felt safe enough to be in authentically, every moment of every day was spent clinging to a carefully constructed mask designed to shield me from the prying eyes of the world, and when I finally collapsed onto my pillow at night, I often screamed into the pages of my journal wondering in hurried scribbles why I had been punished with this curse. Home wasn’t a safe space. Church wasn’t a safe space. The hallways between classes weren’t safe spaces. It was only once I had ducked into a familiar classroom and slipped into my seat near the front of the room that I could finally exhale and let go. A classroom— a teacher — were my refuge. Shelter. A place to belong. A classroom — a teacher — saved my life.
That wasn’t just the reality of a younger version of myself, it is the world that LGBTQ young people face every day. For many, affirming classrooms are their only lifelines; safe havens where the things that make them unique are first celebrated and they learn to see themselves not as a lonely outlier, but as an irreplaceable part of a rich, vibrant society. Those safe spaces give LGBTQ youth a chance to thrive — and they’re under attack in Florida right now.
I’ll fill you in on the worst kept secret in our state. Governor Ron DeSantis desperately wants to be elected president in 2024. And he understands that to do that, he must outwrestle another Florida resident for the adoration of the most extreme segment of his party’s base: Donald Trump. That jockeying for political power has led to a legislative agenda being championed by the governor and fast tracked by his allies in the legislature that is designed to whip up right-wing fervor by banning books, muzzling teachers, censoring classroom conversations, replacing curriculum with propaganda and giving the state government license to police us in every aspect of our lives.
But while the bills being proposed in Tallahassee were birthed from a cynical lust for power, they threaten to usher in a terrifying new reality in Florida. The Stop WOKE Act (HB 7) would censor honest conversations about this country’s history of slavery, racism, and injustice. It would upend diversity, equity, inclusion and even sexual harassment trainings in the workplace, seeking to preserve the “comfort” of some over the lived experiences of others. A 15-week abortion ban (HB 5) would insert the state government into doctor’s offices and clinics across the state, putting the prying eyes of the legislature over people’s shoulders while they make personal decisions about their own bodies. And the “Don’t Say Gay” bill (HB 1557) would ban conversations about LGBTQ people in schools across Florida, effectively erasing our community from classrooms and curbing efforts to create more inclusive school environments.
These bills serve their intended purpose. They turn schools, workplaces, and doctor’s offices into political battlegrounds and serve up a buffet of culture war issues to fuel the far-right outrage machine. But beyond the sloppily written campaign rhetoric on each page, these dangerous pieces of legislation will have real impacts on real people. The “Don’t Say Gay” bill erases LGBTQ parents, making their presence on Career Day or in a show-and-tell project a potential legal liability. It terrorizes LGBTQ educators, forcing them to consider whether being themselves in the workplace might invoke a lawsuit.
And it isolates LGBTQ young people, reinforcing the bigoted notion that their existence is something to be ashamed of. Rainbow “safe place” stickers will be peeled off. Pride month displays will be stuffed into trash cans. In their effort to avoid being sued by an outraged parent, cash-strapped schools will be forced to shut down conversations and put a stop to the work of making schools safe for every child. And the impact of that chilling effect on LGBTQ inclusion will rest squarely on the shoulders of society’s most vulnerable.
Those who most need our affirmation and support have once again fallen into the crosshairs of a governor and legislative leaders determined to score political points at any cost. LGBTQ young people suffer higher rates of depression, anxiety, and are four times as likely as their peers to attempt suicide before graduating high school. And nearly 40 percent of transgender Americans reported attempting suicide at some point in their lives. This crisis is fueled by the social isolation, family rejection, bullying and discrimination that is all too familiar to LGBTQ people. And its solutions must be rooted in affirming people and creating safe spaces for them to feel a sense of belonging, not further stigmatizing and shoving them back into the closet. Simply put, efforts to legislate LGBTQ people out of society will have disastrous consequences on young people who are already fighting for their lives.
LGBTQ people are a necessary part of the fabric of society. Our historical contributions deserve to be recognized. Our families deserve to be celebrated. Our lives deserve to be valued. And schools should be a safe space for all young people, no matter who they are or how they identify.
As the next generation of LGBTQ young people looks on, we must send a clear message to them: You are perfect exactly as you are. And we will not allow the governor or his allies to use you as fodder for their runaway political ambitions. I remember the feeling of isolation everywhere I went. The sense of despair when butterflies exploded in my stomach after my crush passed by me in the hallway. The terror that a conversation around the dinner table might expose me for who I was. And I remember the safe spaces that saved my life. Those spaces are worth defending. And defending them from political assault is the task we are called to now.
Brandon J. Wolf is the press secretary for Equality Florida.
Opinions
Skipping Memorial Day crowds in Rehoboth Beach
After 30 years, I’ve become allergic to large gatherings
There are a lot of things about getting older that are great. I love retirement, love the cruises I take, time at my favorite coffee shops, both in D.C. and at the Coffee Mill in Rehoboth. Then there are some not so great things. I have had a few health issues, which luckily, I have fully overcome. Some issues you can do something about, others you can’t. One of the things I have come to realize is, I no longer enjoy big crowds, and this is something I can do something about. Just avoid them.
I have spent every holiday weekend since buying my place in Rehoboth, and that is going on 30 years, at the beach. I go for Christmas and New Year’s, Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend, President’s Day, Memorial Day, and Labor Day. Add a few extra holidays I may be missing like Veterans’ Day, if it falls on a weekend. This is the first year I won’t be there on Memorial Day, and it is by choice. Instead, will be staying in D.C. Some will ask why, and my simple answer is to avoid the crowds. I keep thinking of the crowds last Memorial Day and decided to see how it goes skipping it this year.
Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled for all the businesses at the beach when they are swamped with people. And glad those people who want to be there are having a great time, and don’t mind when the lines to get into Aqua and Diego’s are around the block. Or when my favorite place for coffee, The Coffee Mill, has a line when I get there at 7 a.m. When you can’t get a reservation at the Pines or even Ava’s. But last year it finally occurred to me why I wasn’t having as much fun as I used to, and realized it was because I have become allergic to crowds. So, for the first time this year, I determined I was going to stay away and see how it feels. I may regret it after a few hours at home in D.C., or when seeing friends’ posts on Instagram and Facebook. But am going to take that chance. One thing I do regret missing is the incredible annual brunch thrown by my friend Robert, and his husband, but am determined to see what it feels like not being at the beach for the kick-off holiday weekend of the summer.
To wean myself away, I did go last weekend. Had a great time seeing friends. Had fun at Aqua each evening for happy hour; went to a great party at CAMP in honor of their new Executive Director Dr. Robin Brennan. I’ve had a chance to chat with her, and believe they made a great choice when hiring her. Then on Friday evening I went to the Washington Blade annual season kick-off party at Diego’s and met the new Steve Elkins Fellow, Thomas Weaverling, and am sure he will do a great job. It was wonderful to see Ashley Biden there accepting the award given posthumously to Beau Biden for all he did for the LGBTQ community. Then on Saturday I stopped in at Freddie’s Beach Bar for the Cloud Nine reunion. That brought back so many good memories. It was coordinated by the inimitable Fay Jacobs. It was back then when I did like crowds, the more the merrier, and remember dancing all evening on the small crowded dance floor. Some people at the reunion reminded me of all the years I hosted an annual Memorial Day party, actually the first 10 years I had my place at the beach. It was catered by the Blue Moon, when my friend Rob was there, and they brought the Champagne, hors d’oeuvres, and even a bartender. I just had to have fun, and I did. The thought of doing that today is a little overwhelming, and I think it is about age.
So, this year I will see how much I miss being at the beach for the holiday weekend. Then after my June trip to France, will decide whether I want to do the same for the Fourth of July. I kind of look forward to seeing what my thoughts on it are, and how it goes.
For those of you at the beach, I hope the place is a zoo, of the best kind, and you all have a fabulous time.
Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist.
Opinions
GLAA’s 2026 primary election ratings show candidates agree on basics
We applaud all who are standing up for human rights in D.C.
Our local elections in D.C. this year will be the most consequential in a long time, as we will get a new mayor, several new Council members, and a new delegate to Congress. It also comes amid the most intensive and far-ranging federal attacks on our self-determination in the history of Home Rule, along with concerted efforts to deprive members of our communities of their rights and well being. As always, GLAA publishes our policy brief and ratings on candidates to help inform voters as they make these momentous decisions. This year, our policy brief and candidate questionnaire are a recommitment to promoting the basics: basic human rights, basic human needs, and basic human decency.
Though GLAA does not issue endorsements, we do rate candidates. Of the candidates who responded, mayoral candidate Janeese Lewis George, and Ward 1 Council candidates Rashida Brown, Miguel Trindade Deramo, and Aparna Raj received a +10, the highest possible rating a candidate can receive from GLAA. This indicated strong agreement with GLAA, thoughtful answers, and an impressive record of action on the issues presented in our brief and policy questionnaire. Other high scores include Oye Owolewa, the highest scoring candidate for the Council At-Large primary election, with a score of 9, and Doni Crawford, who scored the highest in the Council At-Large special election, with 6.5.
For the 2026 primary and special elections, candidates are in broad agreement with GLAA’s policy priorities. In seven out of 10 of our priorities, each candidate indicated agreement. Total consensus on core issues signals that whomever is elected to Council and mayor, we should expect to hold our elected officials accountable to our goals of protecting home rule, resisting federal overreach, advancing transgender healthcare rights, and eliminating chronic homelessness in the District. Other areas of agreement include ending food insecurity, building equitable energy infrastructure, and ensuring robust access points to public benefits. While candidates agree on the basics, they distinguish themselves in the depth and creativity in their responses, and their record on the issues. To read and review their responses in depth, visit glaa.org or outvotedc.org.
As D.C.’s oldest LGBTQ advocacy organization, we know the power that queer people have in local elections. Our queer siblings are among the privileged and the dispossessed. For our communities, this can be an opportunity and an obligation. GLAA’s policy brief is an invitation and call to action. When we do better to support those at the margins, we see an increase in our collective wellbeing. Using a “queer lens” we can see radical and concrete ways that the District can use our power to uplift us all.
We hope the candidate ratings, their responses, and our policy brief are useful to the community as we make decisions during this consequential year. We applaud all who are standing up for D.C., for human rights, for civil rights. We invite you to join us in the work to create the queer future we all deserve.
Benjamin Brooks is president of GLAA; Darby Hickey is secretary.
Ghana
Intersex lives, constitutional freedom, and the dangerous future of Ghana’s Human Sexual Rights and Family Values Bill
Lawmakers continue to consider draconian measure
There is a dangerous silence surrounding intersex lives in Ghana — a silence shaped by fear, misinformation, cultural misunderstanding, and institutional neglect. Today, amid discussions around the possible passage of the Human Sexual Rights and Family Values Bill, 2025, that silence risks becoming law, reinforcing exclusion and deepening the marginalization of already invisible lives.
Much of the national debate surrounding the bill has focused on LGBTQ+ identities. Yet buried within it are implications for intersex persons that many Ghanaians do not fully understand because intersex realities remain largely invisible.
Intersex persons are born with natural variations in chromosomes, hormones, reproductive anatomy, and/or genital characteristics that do not fit typical definitions of male or female bodies. Intersex is not a sexual orientation or gender identity. It is a biological reality. Ghana’s Commission on Human Rights and Administrative Justice (CHRAJ) has clearly acknowledged this distinction.
Despite this distinction, the bill mistakenly collapses intersex realities into a legal framework linked to LGBTQ+ criminalization.
Although the bill contains only limited references to intersex persons, under certain medical exceptions, these references do not amount to recognition or protection. Instead, they frame intersex bodies as abnormalities requiring regulation, correction, and institutional management. This approach is inconsistent not only with Ghana’s constitutional guarantees of dignity, equality, privacy, and liberty, but also with emerging African and international human rights standards. The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights Resolution on the Promotion and Protection of the Rights of Intersex Persons in Africa – ACHPR/Res.552 (LXXIV) 2023 affirms protections relating to bodily integrity, dignity, freedom from discrimination, and against harmful medical practices. Additionally, the United Nations has repeatedly condemned medically unnecessary and non-consensual interventions on intersex children. Rather than affirming the humanity and autonomy of intersex persons, the bill risks legitimizing systems of surveillance, coercion, violence, and institutional erasure.
This is not protection.
It is managed erasure.
A child born intersex in Ghana already enters a society shaped by secrecy and stigma. Families are often pressured to hide intersex children or seek “correction” to make their bodies conform to social expectations.
The bill risks intensifying this pressure.
Clause 17 creates space for “approved service providers” to support interventions relating to intersex persons, yet offers little protection around informed consent, bodily autonomy, confidentiality, or coercive treatment. Under the language of “correction” or “support,” harmful interventions may become normalized.
The intersex community has documented painful lived experiences of intersex Ghanaians that reveal the devastating consequences of stigma and invisibility.
One heartbreaking case involved intersex twins born in Ghana’s Eastern Region in 1993, who were repeatedly forced to move from village to village because of rejection and ridicule. After losing their father, their main source of protection and support, they became even more vulnerable and reportedly experienced severe emotional distress, including suicidal thoughts linked to years of stigma and exclusion. This is what invisibility looks like in practice.
Another painful example is the story of Ativor Holali, whose lived experience exposed the cruel realities intersex persons face in sports and public life. Ativor Holali endured invasive scrutiny, public humiliation, and social suspicion because her body did not conform to rigid expectations of femininity. Rather than being protected as a Ghanaian athlete deserving dignity and privacy, she became the subject of speculation, gossip, and institutional discomfort.
Her experience reflects a broader social crisis: when society insists that every body must fit a narrow binary definition, intersex people are forced to defend their humanity in spaces where dignity should already be guaranteed.
Intersex Persons Society Of Ghana (IPSOG)’s Ŋusẽdodo research further revealed that approximately 70 percent of intersex respondents reported depression, anxiety, trauma, or severe emotional distress linked to medical mistreatment, family rejection, bullying, and social exclusion.
The bill risks transforming these existing prejudices into institutional policy. Several provisions risk deepening surveillance, restricting advocacy, weakening confidentiality, and discouraging public education around intersex realities. Intersex-led organizations providing healthcare guidance, legal referrals, psychosocial support, and community services may face serious challenges.
This places IPSOG and other intersex-led organizations in Ghana at serious risk.
For many intersex Ghanaians, these spaces are not political luxuries.
They are survival mechanisms.
Governments derive legitimacy by protecting the natural rights of all persons, including dignity, liberty, bodily autonomy, and freedom from arbitrary interference. The bill raises concerns because it risks weakening these protections for intersex persons through surveillance, coercive interventions, and restrictions on advocacy.
Ghana’s Constitution declares that “the dignity of all persons shall be inviolable.” Articles 15, 17, 18, and 21 specifically protect dignity, equality, privacy, expression, and freedom of association. These protections should apply equally to intersex persons.
Intersex persons are not threats to Ghanaian culture.
Intersex children are not moral dangers.
Intersex bodies are not political weapons.
They are human beings deserving dignity, healthcare, safety, and constitutional protection.
The true measure of a democracy is how it protects those most vulnerable to exclusion. At this moment, Ghana faces a choice: deepen fear and silence, or uphold dignity, bodily autonomy, and constitutional freedom for intersex persons.
History will remember the choice we make.
Fafali Delight Akortsu is the founder and president of the Intersex Persons Society of Ghana (IPSOG).
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