Tomoya Asanuma, a prominent transgender activist in Tokyo, faced the triple abuses of Japan’s “hostage justice” system, hostile detention conditions, and mistreatment trans people face in the absence of meaningful legal protections. 

For Asanuma, March 14, 2024, was supposed to be another Thursday at work. At around 7 a.m., he woke up to the sound of someone repeatedly ringing his doorbell. Through the intercom, Asanuma saw three men wearing dark-colored clothes, this time pounding his front door. When he opened the door, the men identified themselves as police officers and showed him an arrest warrant.

This was the beginning of what Asanuma recently described to Human Rights Watch as being “difficult to put into words.” After Japanese police arrested him for sexual assault for allegedly hugging an acquaintance from behind, the authorities held him for months at a pre-trial detention center. 

During this time, they mocked his transgender identity during interrogation, denied him access to medical services such as dental care, and initially denied hormone treatment until he obtained a recommendation from a doctor.

While some authorities showed a level of consideration for Asanuma, including letting him shower away from other detained men, the abusive treatment he faced led him to attempt suicide twice.

Trans people in Japan are in legal limbo. Historically, they have faced outright discrimination — including a law compelling them to be surgically sterilized for legal gender recognition — and barriers to accessing education, employment, and health care. A landmark Supreme Court decision in 2023 declared the sterilization requirement unconstitutional, but reform has stalled in parliament — leaving trans people’s basic rights in limbo.

The courts finally granted bail to Asanuma in July 2024 and found him not guilty in January 2025. But in a country with a 99.8 percent conviction rate for indicted cases, Asanuma had to live through acute fear as authorities forcibly tried to obtain a confession from him during interrogations without the presence of his lawyer.

His fears are grounded in a justice system with a well-earned reputation for abuse and arbitrariness. His experience is part of systemic treatment in Japan called “hostage justice,” under which criminal suspects are detained for prolonged periods, sometimes months or years, unless they confess to the charges. This denies them the rights to due process and a fair trial. 

The authorities ultimately dropped the sexual assault allegations, but charged Asanuma with assault, which is punishable by up to two years in prison or up to a 300,000 yen fine ($2,000.) Prosecutors sought a 200,000 yen fine. Despite this, because he pleaded not guilty, a court rejected his request for bail four times and detained him for more than 100 days in pre-trial detention, punishing him disproportionately since the prosecutors did not even seek imprisonment for his alleged crime.

In Japan’s hostage justice system, authorities frequently subject suspects to harsh interrogations to coerce confessions from them during pre-indictment detention. Defense lawyers are not permitted to be present, and the questioning does not stop even when a suspect invokes their constitutional right to remain silent. Indeed, Asanuma invoked his right to remain silent, but authorities interrogated him for hours on 13 occasions. 

The case of Iwao Hakamata highlights the dangers of this practice. Hakamata, a former professional boxer, was arrested on Aug. 18, 1966, for murdering a family of four. Following harsh interrogations by the police and prosecutors, he confessed nearly a month later. Based on this coerced confession, Hakamata was indicted and subsequently convicted and sentenced to death. He maintained his innocence and was eventually acquitted — 58 years after his arrest — on Sept. 26, 2024, following a retrial.

To prevent further abuses and wrongful convictions spurred by the “hostage justice” system, the Japanese government should not as a general rule deny bail to suspects in pretrial detention, and should end interrogations without legal counsel that often involve coerced confessions through manipulation and intimidation.

The Japanese government should also improve the conditions under which suspects are being held, including by ensuring adequate access to all medical services, and revising the Notice Regarding Treatment Guidelines for Detainees with Gender Identity Disorder by specifying that hormone replacement therapy and other gender-affirming medical interventions are medically necessary and should be made available to all imprisoned people who want them.

“My case is just the tip of the iceberg, as there are others who are detained much longer,” Asanuma said. “I think this experience gave me a good reason to speak up even more for the rights of suspects going forward,” he added.

Teppei Kasai is a program officer for Japan at Human Rights Watch. 

As many of you who follow me in the Washington Blade know, I love to travel. These days it is all about cruising (on the water). I take at least two cruises a year, and plan them out years in advance so it’s not always guaranteed they won’t conflict with something else I may want to do at the same time. This time it turned out my bucket list cruise to the Norwegian Fjords and the Arctic is going to happen right in the middle of WorldPride in D.C. I had planned on sitting with the mayor at the Shakira opening concert, which sadly was cancelled. 

This particular cruise has been on my bucket list for more than 40 years. Before she passed away, my mom ran the largest Title XX senior center in New York City. This was back in the early 1980s. She would often plan trips for those who came to the center, taking them to fun places. One of those trips was a cruise through the Norwegian Fjords. Mom came home with amazing pictures and from that time I swore one day I would get there myself. Nearly three years ago, before D.C. was awarded WorldPride, I spoke with my favorite travel agents at My Lux Cruise, and began to plan and promote the idea of this trip with them. So now this dream of mine is coming true.

My cruises, while not gay cruises, are always with large groups from the LGBTQ community. So, I will be celebrating my Pride on this trip traveling with a group of about 85 members of the community. Some from D.C., others from my second home in Rehoboth Beach, and others from around the United States, and around the world. Many are the same people who travel with me on my annual transatlantic cruises. This year, that one will be on the Celebrity ASCENT leaving Oct. 31 out of Rome, and traveling 13 days to Ft. Lauderdale. Still time for you to join me on that one.

I left for London on June 3 so missed the biggest weekend of WorldPride in D.C. By the time you read this column, it will be in full swing, and a huge success, thanks to the work of the Capital Pride Alliance, and so many others. 

On the morning of June 5,^, I will be boarding a bus from my London hotel for the ride to Southampton, where we will meet the Celebrity APEX for our 12-day cruise. Scott and Dustin, my travel agents, and good friends, will host a sail-away party onboard, where I will get to see old friends, and make new ones. The next morning, we will arrive in Bruges, (Zeebrugge) Belgium. I love Bruges and will be spending the day in town. From there it’s on to places I haven’t been before, including Norway and the Arctic Circle. Day three we arrive in Flam, Norway, where we have already booked a railway trip up the mountain; day four will be cruising the Arctic Circle; day five we will be in Tromso, Norway; day six in Honningsvag, Norway; day seven is again cruising around the Arctic Circle; day eight is in Geiranger, Norway; day nine in Alesund, Norway; day 10 in Haugesund, Norway; day 11 is at sea; and day 12 we arrive back in Southampton. I have arranged to go directly to the airport for an afternoon flight back to D.C. While I really regret missing WorldPride, what I am happy about is missing the June 14 birthday parade planned by the felon in the White House. 

In each of the cities in Norway we will be taking tours, and be off the ship for most of the day. One of the interesting things I look forward to is during this time of the year, we will have about 20 hours of daylight, which should be something different. Unfortunately, this will not let us see the Northern Lights, but then you can’t have everything. 

I look forward to hearing from all my friends back in D.C. about their fun experiences with WorldPride, and I know there will be lots of great stories to share. I will be sharing some of my experiences from the cruise with you in a blog I will be writing for the Blade. I wish everyone a happy WorldPride wherever you are, and whatever you are doing. Stay strong, stay beautiful, speak up, and speak out, knowing we all make the world a better place.

Peter Rosenstein is a longtime LGBTQ rights and Democratic Party activist. 

Rewind back to 2017. Trump took office following his election win, and Republicans controlled both the House and the Senate. Superstar Katy Perry suffered a public relations disaster following the release of her latest album. Nintendo brought us a brand-spanking-new Switch, while a now-iconic horror movie—written and directed by a Black man—became a smash hit among critics and audiences alike. 

Well, this feels familiar. Why, then, does Pride in 2025 feel so different? The year 2017 was my first D.C. Pride, and I distinctly remember having a blast and feeling celebratory, even in the wake of Trump’s election. Now instead of Pride, all I feel is anxious, which sucks given this year D.C. hosts WorldPride, too. Upon some reflection, I distilled three reasons as to why. 

The first is highly personal and comes with an update: I recently switched bars. Early this year, I experienced a profound crisis that, sadly, came with substance abuse. It was the most challenging time of my life, and while I may write about it someday, for now I’m still processing its impact. Fortunately, my colleagues at The Little Gay Pub stepped up in a major way to help their struggling coworker. I’d love to take this moment to thank them, since I have yet to properly do so. The work they did to assist me speaks volumes about the staff’s character, and I am forever grateful for their friendship and guidance. 

Now I work at Spark Social House, the new LGBTQ alcohol-free bar and café. Yes, you read that right: an alcohol-free bar. You can also think of it as a nonalcoholic “third space” for the LGBTQ community, but hey, if you are tipsy, stop in for a grilled cheese. We’re open until 4 a.m. on weekends for a reason, and I work the late shift most Saturday nights. 

My switch between bars was the healthier move, but it underscores why Pride is a bit complicated for me this year. I’m navigating severe and unexpected changes in my life, and as a result, Pride fell off my radar. I also know I’m not alone. Here in D.C., thousands of people lost their jobs abruptly, causing many to question who they are in an otherwise austere, corporate landscape. Meanwhile, the news cycle became bleaker than before, so in times like this it’s easy to isolate. Personally, I isolated myself for months after leaving the Pub, and navigating large crowds became the last thing I wanted. It makes sense, then, why WorldPride might feel as overwhelming as a stampede of rhinos. 

The second reason is the political context. Yes, Trump has been president before, and yes, he recently appointed the highest-ranking openly gay official in our nation’s history, but still his presidency ushered in attacks on LGBTQ rights. To start, look to my home state of Idaho, which this year passed a resolution calling on the Supreme Court to overturn its 2015 decision on same-sex marriage. Idaho’s brashness here is the direct result of the reelection of Trump, who knowingly appointed three conservative justices to the high court during his first term. 

Unfortunately, policies like this are cropping up across the country, like in Ohio, where there’s currently a bill to celebrate “natural family” month, or in Florida, where our history is being erased from schools and libraries. Outside the country, Trump’s defunding of crucial USAID programs leaves queers around the globe in peril. Big-named corporations like Target basically abandoned us, while the Department of Homeland Security can now spy on us solely for our gender identity or sexual orientation. So yes, in the face of all this, dancing with my shirt off and making out with the dude beside me doesn’t feel as fun as it used to. Strange how that happens. 

The final, and perhaps most salient, reason Pride changed are the relentless attacks on our transgender, genderqueer, and drag artist brothers, sisters, and siblings. These attacks are heinous. While many queers fear a rollback of rights, it has already begun for trans people. This year alone, there grew a laundry list of what trans people can’t do: participate in sports, work in safe spaces, serve in the military, or simply pee unbothered. Tell me: what group of people have their lives controlled to that level of minutiae? I don’t know—prisoners, maybe? 

Outside the stripping of their rights and dignity, the language directed at the trans community has turned vile. This is best represented by the antics of Rep. Nancy Mace (R-S.C.). Mace is so obsessed with everyone else’s genitalia in the bathroom, it borders on sexual harassment. This is made more egregious given she once seemed exemplary for Republicans on gay and transgender equality, yet for some dubious reason, she went from that to poster child of LGBTQ+ hatred. Now she purposely misgenders trans people, leading me to believe we should misgender him to see how he likes it, so I’ll start: Nancy Mace is such a dreadful, horrid, odious bigot, I lazily Google searched synonyms for vile to describe him, because he certainly ain’t worth the extra effort, ain’t he? 

However, Nancy the Mancy is not the only Republican to support these terrible views. Trump himself spent more on anti-trans ads than any other topic in his most recent campaign, but don’t worry—his appointment of a gay man to Treasury Secretary makes up for it. No, actually, it doesn’t, but for some gays it does, which blows my mind. Republicans made a trade-off between the gay and trans communities, because we’re what? That’s right: interchangeable. Grab any letter and you’re good, apparently. Or no letters at all, if you’re Richard Grenell. 

Nowadays, coming out trans is undoubtedly the bravest of all queer identities, not only because you’ll lose your rights, but you’ll face deeper hatred as well. Still, trans people like Rep. Sarah McBride (D-Del.) remain unfazed, which speaks to their remarkable poise and courage. But can we say the same for the rest of the queer community? Are we capable of not fleeing in the face of such hatred? Seeing some of us sell out our queer family leaves me wondering. As a reminder: family doesn’t sell out family, and when you do, I no longer want you in my family. I think that’s fair. 

So, for these three reasons, Pride changed in my book. To better understand why, I also looked up the definition of the word ‘pride.’ Turns out there isn’t one definition but two, the first being “a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated.” A few years into securing corporate support and our right to marry, this describes how Pride felt in 2017. But the second definition is “consciousness of one’s own dignity.” To me, this better summarizes Pride in 2025, for it became the year they tried to steal our dignity, which also makes it the year we must stop them from doing so. This more closely aligns to the first Pride of our queer ancestors, for in the face of even more hatred and fewer rights, they persevered.  

So, grab that metaphorical brick—it’s time we bring some Marsha P. Johnson energy to Pride this year. Remember our haters want us divided and isolated because that’s how they win. This means I, too, must pull my head out of my ass and change my attitude toward Pride while I still can. WorldPride organizers fought tirelessly to secure our events, particularly during this difficult year, so let’s enjoy them. If drag artists are performing, go support them if you can, and events focused on our solidarity matter more than ever before. Let’s take our energy and spread it like glitter everywhere we can throughout the whole damn year. 

The best part is I know we’re capable, for if the queer community can show up in my lowest moments, we can certainly show up for us all. My next three columns will focus on our most targeted family members: the trans, genderqueer, and drag artist communities. Since people back home read my stuff, for better or for worse, it’s worth highlighting to them the profound beauty of each. 

So sure, Pride is different this year, but whether that’s good or bad is now up to us. I know which I’m choosing. Do you? 

Jake Stewart is a D.C.-based writer and bar back.