Authoritarianism does not announce its arrival. It’s too cowardly for that. It advances quietly, at the margins, testing how much fear and cruelty a community will tolerate and what bystanders will allow to happen to fellow human beings. History shows that queer folks, especially trans people, are often targeted first. That targeting is not incidental. It is intentional.

Defending queer rights is not a niche concern. It is a test of democratic health. A society that allows one group to be targeted will not stop there. Those who come for queer people in the morning are the same that go for educators, journalists, voters, and civil institutions in the afternoon. This is not speculation. It is a well-worn pattern.

Around the world, LGBTQ+ communities are under coordinated attack. In Russia, the so-called “international LGBTQ movement” has been labeled extremist, legally equating queer identity with terrorism. We are seeing distinct echoes of that foreign influence here at home. Elsewhere, governments criminalize queer existence, erase trans people from public life, or force people into silence through intimidation. The sequence is familiar: dehumanizing rhetoric, restrictive policy, and eventually open endorsements of violence. When these warning signs are ignored, repression accelerates.

It would be comforting to believe this is distant or abstract. It is not. In the United States, LGBTQ+ people, including trans people, have sought asylum abroad because they no longer feel safe in our own communities. When our neighbors must leave to feel safe, we have failed our community.

Experts at the Lemkin Institute for Genocide Prevention have warned that trans communities in the United States face serious and escalating danger. Their analysis is grounded in history. Genocide is not only mass killing. It is the systematic destruction of a group’s ability to exist safely and openly. Legal erasure, public demonization, exclusion from institutions, and tolerated harassment are all early stages of that process. History is clear. The time to act is before harm becomes irreversible.

Democratic backsliding rarely arrives with fanfare. It comes through school board votes, bureaucratic rules, elected leaders’ inaction, and symbolic reversals that seem small until they accumulate. This is how erosion takes hold.

In Salisbury, Md., my hometown, that erosion has become visible. The city halted the flying of Pride flags during Pride month and removed our downtown rainbow crosswalk. These were not neutral administrative choices. They sent a clear message to queer residents that their visibility and belonging are unwelcome.

When a community removes symbols that affirm dignity and safety, when books reflecting queer realities are pulled from schools and libraries, when children are excluded from participating in life simply because they are different, it creates harm. It teaches that difference is dangerous. And when politicians and people in positions of responsibility fail to protect trans kids, real harm follows: mental health crises, isolation, and even lives lost.

Pride flags, rainbow crosswalks, inclusive curricula, and supportive policies are not merely symbolic. They communicate that everyone belongs and that discrimination will not be tolerated. Removing them isolates queer people and emboldens those who see community as an exclusive club rather than a shared responsibility.

Queer liberation is not separate from the liberation of the broader community. It is inseparable from it. Living openly as queer challenges systems built on fear, rigid roles, and enforced conformity. When queer people gain ground, everyone gains ground. Each victory for queer liberation strengthens democracy itself.

This is how we know progress is possible. Every time a Pride flag stays flying. Every time a crosswalk remains painted. Every time a local ordinance protects gender identity. Every time a school affirms a student’s dignity. These are not small wins. Liberation grows through accumulation.

National politics can feel chaotic and overwhelming. Federal institutions are slow, complex, and distant. But democratic defense does not begin there. It begins locally, when neighbors show up to town halls, demand accountability, and refuse to let bigotry shape policy. It does not take extraordinary power to protect a city council chamber or a school board meeting. It takes people willing to stand up. It takes bystanders willing to step in.

This is the moment to act. Silence enables erosion. Action creates momentum. The question is not whether change is possible. It is whether you are willing to claim it.

Queer liberation is your liberation. When we defend the most targeted among us, we defend the future we all share. Every Pride flag flown, every rainbow crosswalk returned, every book left on the shelf, and every policy that affirms dignity sends a message far beyond town limits. It tells the world that democracy is being defended here.

Local victories are global victories. And every one of them matters.

Will Fries. is a Maryland communications strategist with experience in multiple major presidential campaigns. 

When Paul Thomas Anderson’s “One Battle After Another” debuted on American movie screens last September, it had a lot of things going for it: an acclaimed Hollywood auteur working with a cast that included three Oscar-winning actors, on an ambitious blockbuster with his biggest budget to date, and a $70 million advertising campaign to draw in the crowds. It was even released in IMAX. 

It was still a box office disappointment, failing to achieve its “break-even” threshold before making the jump from big screen to small via VOD rentals and streaming on HBO Max. Whatever the reason – an ambivalence toward its stars, a lack of clarity around what it was about, divisive pushback from both progressive and conservative camps over perceived messaging, or a general sense of fatigue over real-world events that had pushed potential moviegoers to their saturation point when it came to material that is as politically charged as this movie does – audiences failed to show up for it. 

The story did not end there, of course; most critics, unconcerned with box office receipts, embraced Anderson’s grand-scale opus, and it’s now a top contender in this year’s awards race, already securing top prizes at the Golden Globe and Critics’ Choice Awards, nominated for a record number of SAG’s Actor Awards, and almost certain to be a front runner in multiple categories at the Academy Awards on March 15.

For cinema buffs who care about such things, that means the time has come: get over all those misgivings and hesitations, whatever reasons might be behind them, and see for yourself why it’s at the top of so many “Best Of” lists.

Part action thriller, part political allegory, part jet-black satire, and all gloriously cinematic, “One Battle After Another” (adapted by Anderson from the 1990 Thomas Pynchon novel “Vineland”) unspools a near-mythic saga of oppression, resistance, and family bonds, set in an authoritarian America of unspecified date, in which a former revolutionary (Leonardo DiCaprio) is attempting to raise his daughter (Chase Infiniti) under the radar after her mother (Teyana Taylor) betrayed the movement and fled the country. Now living under a fake identity and consumed by paranoia and a weed habit, he has grown soft and unprepared when a corrupt military officer (Sean Penn) – who may be his daughter’s real biological father – tracks them down and apprehends her. Determined to find her, he reconnects with his old revolutionary network and enlists the aid of her karate teacher (Benecio Del Toro), embarking on a desperate rescue mission while her captor plots to erase all traces of his former “indiscretion” with her mother.

It’s a plot straight out of a mainstream action melodrama, top-heavy with opportunities for old-school action, sensationalistic violence, and epic car chases (all of which it delivers), but in the hands of Anderson – whose sensibilities always seem to strike the most provocative balance between introspection, nostalgia, and an irreverent sense of apt-but-chaotic destiny – it becomes much more intriguing than the generic tropes with which he half-seriously invokes to cover his own absurdist leanings.

Indeed, it’s that absurdity that infuses “One Battle” with a kind of thrilling sensibility and emerges to distinguish it from the “action movie” format it uses to relay its narrative. From DiCaprio (whose performance highlights his subtle comedic gifts as much as his “serious” acting chops) as a bathrobe-clad underdog hero with shades of The Dude from the Coen Brothers’ “The Big Liebowski” to the hilariously creepy secret society of financially elite white supremacists that lurks in the margins of the action, Anderson gives us plenty of satirical fodder to chuckle about, even if we cringe as we chuckle. Like that masterpiece of uncomfortable political comedy, Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 nuclear holocaust farce “Dr. Strangelove,” it offers us ridiculousness and buffoonery that ring so perfectly true in a terrifying reality that we can’t really laugh at it.

That, perhaps, is why Anderson’s film has had a hard time drawing viewers; though it’s based on a book from nearly four decades ago and it was conceived, written, and created well before our current political reality, the world it creates hits a little too close to home. It imagines a roughly contemporary America ruled by a draconian regime, where immigration enforcement, police, and the military all seem wrapped into one oppressive force, and where unapologetic racism dictates an entire ideology that works in the shadows to impose its twisted values on the world. When it was conceived and written, it must have felt like an exaggeration. Now, watching the final product in 2026, it feels almost like an inevitability. Let’s face it, none of us wants to accept the reality of fascism imposing itself on our daily lives; a movie that forces us to confront it is, unfortunately, bound to feel like a downer. We get enough “doomscrolling” on social media; we don’t need more of it when we sit down to watch a movie.

In truth, however, “One Battle” is anything but a downer. Full of comedic flourish (much of it due to DiCaprio) it maintains a rigorous distance that makes it impossible to make snap judgments about its characters, and that makes all the difference – especially with characters like DiCaprio’s protective dad, whose behavior sometimes feels toxic from a certain point of view. And though it’s a movie that has no qualms about showing us things we cannot or should not see, it somehow comes off better than it might have done by making everything feel safe.

That’s something we are never allowed to feel in Anderson’s outlandish action adventure, even at an intellectual level. For even if we can laugh at some of its over-the-top flourishes or find emotional (or ideological) satisfaction in the way things ultimately play out, we can’t walk away from it without feeling the dread that comes from recognizing the ugly truths behind its satirical absurdities. In the end, it’s all too real, too familiar, too dire for us not to be unsettled. After all, it’s only a movie, but the things it shows us are not too far from our reality. Indeed, they’re getting closer every day, and nobody can save us from them but ourselves.

Visually masterful, superbly performed, and flawlessly delivered by a cinematic master, it’s a movie that, like it or not, defines the uncomfortable reality we face, and there’s nobody to save it from us but ourselves.

Barely a week after Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni secured a 7th term in an election marred by state violence, intimidation, and allegations of fraud, the country’s queer community spoke about how the election environment impacted it.

The LGBTQ lobby groups who spoke with the Washington Blade noted that, besides government institutions’ failure to create a safe and inclusive environment for civic participation by all Ugandans, authorities weaponized the Anti-Homosexuality Act to silence dissent and discourage queer voter engagement.

The rights groups note that candidates aligned with Museveni’s ruling National Resistance Movement — including Parliament Speaker Anita Among — during the campaigns accused their rivals of “promoting homosexuality” to discredit them while wooing conservative voters. 

Queer people and LGBTQ rights organizations as a result were largely excluded from the formal political processes for the election as voters, mobilizers, or civic actors due to fear of exposure, stigma, violence, and legal reprisals. 

“This homophobic rhetoric fueled public hostility and emboldened vigilante violence, forcing many queer Ugandans into deeper hiding during the election period,” Uganda Minority Shelters Consortium Coordinator John Grace stated.

Some queer people had expressed an interest in running for local council seats, but none of them formally registered as candidates or campaigned openly because of safety concerns and local electoral bodies’ discriminatory vetting of candidates.

“UMSC documented at least three incidents of election-related violence or intimidation targeting LGBTQ+ individuals and activists,” Grace noted. “These included harassment, arbitrary detentions, extortions by state and non-state actors, digital cat-fishing, and threats of outing.” 

Amid such a militarized and repressive election environment, Let’s Walk Uganda Executive Director Edward Mutebi noted queer-led and allied organizations engaged in the election process through restricted informal voter education, community discussions, and documenting human rights violations. 

“Fear of backlash limited visibility and direct participation throughout the election cycle,” Mutebi said. “But despite the hostile environment of work, Let’s Walk Uganda was able to organize a successful transgender and gender diverse youth training on electoral security and safety.” 

Museveni’s government escalated its repressive actions during the Jan. 15 elections by shutting down the internet and suspending nine civil society organizations, including Chapter Four Uganda and the National Coalition of Human Rights Defenders, for allegedly engaging in activities that are prejudicial to the security and laws of the country. 

The suspension of the rights organizations remains in force, an action both Mutebi and Grace condemn. They say it prevents queer Ugandans from accessing urgent services from the affected groups.

“For the LGBTQ community, the impact has been immediate and deeply harmful. Many of the suspended organizations, like Chapter Four Uganda, were critical partners in providing legal representation, emergency response, and documentation of rights violations,” Grace said.

This has compelled UMSC and its other partners to handle increased caseloads with limited resources, while navigating heightened scrutiny and operational risk. 

“The suspension has disrupted referral pathways, delayed urgent interventions, and weakened collective advocacy for marginalized groups and minority rights defenders, which calls for urgent international solidarity, flexible funding, and protection mechanisms to safeguard the work of grassroots organizations operating under threat,” Grace stated. 

Mutebi warned that such repressive actions are tyrannical and are indicative of shrinking civic space, which undermines democratic accountability as the promotion and protection of human rights is ignored.

With Museveni, 81, extending his tenure at State House from a landslide win of 72 percent, UMSC and LWU consider a bleak future in the protection of rights for queer Ugandans and other minority groups.

“Without significant political and legal shifts, LGBTQ persons will face continued criminalization, reduced civic space, and heightened insecurity, making sustained advocacy and international solidarity more critical than ever,” Mutebi said. “ It is unimaginable how it feels to live in a country with no hope.”

Grace, however, affirmed the resistance by local queer lobby groups will continue through underground networks, regional solidarity, and digital organizing.

The duo noted that a win by Museveni’s main challenger and rapper, Bobi Wine, who only managed 24 percent of the total votes cast, could have enabled the opening up of civil space and human rights protections in Uganda. 

Wine, for his part, spoke in favor of the respect for the rule of law and human rights during his campaign.

“While Bobi Wine’s past stance on LGBTQ rights was inconsistent, his recent shift toward more inclusive rhetoric and international engagement suggested a potential opening for dialogue,” Grace said. “A win might have created space for policy reform or at least reduced state-sponsored homophobia, though structural change would still require sustained pressure and coalition-building.”

Mutebi stated that a change in Uganda’s leadership to a youthful leader like Wine could have offered an opening, but not a guarantee for progress on inclusion and human rights. Mutebi added existing institutionalized and societal homophobia remain in place.