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When Pride Stopped Protesting

On June 21, 2026

A split-scene illustration contrasts an early LGBTQ+ protest march filled with activists carrying liberation signs and demanding equal rights against a modern Pride parade featuring rainbow flags, corporate sponsorships, and celebratory crowds, highlighting the movement’s evolution from political resistance to mainstream cultural celebration while emphasizing the continuing struggle for transgender equality. (Image generated by ChatGPT using DALL·E, 2026.)

Every June, millions of people gather for Pride celebrations across the United States. Streets are filled with rainbow flags, corporate logos, political candidates, and festival-like atmospheres. For many participants, Pride is a joyful affirmation of LGBTQ+ identity and a celebration of the progress that has been achieved over the past half century.

Yet Pride was not created as a celebration.

Pride was born from protest.

The first Pride marches emerged in the aftermath of the Stonewall uprising of 1969, when LGBTQ+ people fought back against routine police harassment and discrimination. Early Pride events were acts of political resistance. Participants marched because they faced criminalization, employment discrimination, housing discrimination, family rejection, and social exclusion. Pride was a demand for change, not a celebration of acceptance (TIME, 2020).

Over time, however, Pride changed.

By the late 1990s and early 2000s, LGBTQ+ organizations were increasingly integrated into mainstream political and corporate institutions. Large corporations began sponsoring Pride events. Politicians who once avoided association with LGBTQ+ causes now sought visibility in Pride parades. Pride organizations became larger, more professionalized, and increasingly dependent upon corporate sponsorship and institutional partnerships.

This transformation brought benefits. Greater visibility helped normalize LGBTQ+ identities, and corporate sponsorships provided resources that allowed Pride events to grow dramatically. Yet there was also a cost.

As Pride became more institutionalized, its activist character began to fade. Events that once centered political demands increasingly emphasized entertainment, marketing, and celebration. What had begun as a protest movement gradually evolved into a cultural festival. Many activists have argued that the commercialization of Pride diluted its political message and encouraged the public to believe that the struggle for LGBTQ+ equality had largely been won (Cornell University, 2022).

That perception grew even stronger after marriage equality became law nationwide. For many Americans, the legalization of same-sex marriage represented the culmination of the modern LGBTQ+ civil rights movement. The dominant narrative became one of victory rather than continued struggle.

But for many transgender people, the struggle was far from over.

The tensions between mainstream LGBTQ+ organizations and transgender activists became particularly visible during the debate surrounding the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA). Throughout the 1990s and 2000s, transgender activists fought for legislation that would prohibit workplace discrimination based on both sexual orientation and gender identity. However, many political leaders and advocacy organizations believed that including gender identity protections would make the legislation more difficult to pass.

In 2007, a version of ENDA was advanced that prohibited discrimination based on sexual orientation but excluded gender identity protections. Supporters of the strategy argued that political realities required compromise. They believed Congress was not prepared to pass a fully inclusive bill and that securing protections for gay, lesbian, and bisexual workers was better than securing no protections at all (Washington Blade, 2017; HRC, 2007).

For many transgender activists, however, this was not a strategic compromise. It was a betrayal.

The message they received was that transgender equality could be postponed because it was politically inconvenient. As a result, transgender activists increasingly relied upon their own organizations and advocacy networks rather than established LGBTQ+ institutions. These groups spent years educating the public, documenting discrimination, challenging exclusionary policies, and building a movement focused specifically on transgender rights.

Over the following decade, public awareness of transgender people increased dramatically. Media coverage expanded. Public opinion shifted. Gender identity became a more visible topic in American political discourse. As transgender rights gained national attention, major LGBTQ+ organizations—including the Human Rights Campaign—became increasingly active advocates for transgender equality.

Many welcomed this support. Additional resources and national visibility strengthened the fight against discrimination. Yet for some transgender activists, the shift was difficult to forget.

From their perspective, transgender organizations had spent years fighting battles that larger LGBTQ+ organizations had either ignored or treated as secondary concerns. Only after transgender rights became more politically visible and socially recognized did many of those larger organizations fully embrace transgender advocacy. The criticism was not that these organizations eventually supported transgender rights. The criticism was that they had not shown the same commitment when doing so carried greater political risk.

This history reflects a broader problem within modern Pride and LGBTQ+ politics. As movements become institutionalized, they often shift from challenging power to managing relationships with power. Organizations become concerned with political access, public relations, donor relationships, and legislative strategy. The result can be a form of respectability politics that prioritizes achievable victories while leaving more controversial or vulnerable communities behind.

Today, transgender people remain the primary targets of legislative attacks on LGBTQ+ rights in the United States. Hundreds of bills have been introduced in recent years targeting transgender healthcare, participation in public life, and legal recognition (Human Rights Campaign, 2026). Yet many Pride events continue to project an image of completed victory rather than ongoing struggle.

Celebration has an important place. LGBTQ+ people deserve joy. They deserve visibility. They deserve to recognize how far the movement has come.

But Pride should never forget why it exists.

Pride was created because LGBTQ+ people were denied equal rights. It was created because marginalized communities demanded justice from institutions that refused to recognize their humanity. If Pride becomes only a celebration, it risks forgetting the very activism that made those celebrations possible.

The history of transgender activism during the ENDA era serves as a reminder that progress is rarely as complete as it appears. Rights can be delayed. Communities can be sidelined. Movements can become comfortable.

The challenge for Pride today is not whether it should celebrate victories.

The challenge is whether it still remembers how to fight.

References

Cornell University. (2022, June 15). Is Pride too commercialized? https://lgbt.cornell.edu/news/pride-too-commercialized-0

Human Rights Campaign. (2007, November 7). U.S. House takes historic step by passing the Employment Non-Discrimination Act. https://www.hrc.org/press-releases/u-s-house-takes-historic-step-by-passing-the-employment-non-discrimination

Human Rights Campaign. (2026). Fighting anti-trans politics. https://www.hrc.org/our-work/stories/fighting-anti-trans-politics

TIME. (2020, June 18). What’s changed—and what hasn’t—in 50 years of Pride parades. https://time.com/5858086/pride-parades-history/

Washington Blade. (2017, November 6). 10 years later, firestorm over gay-only ENDA vote still remembered. https://www.washingtonblade.com/2017/11/06/10-years-later-firestorm-over-gay-only-enda-vote-still-remembered/

Trans Prisoners and Forced Detransition

By Katherine Walter

On March 12, 2026

In criminal justice, prison policy

A transgender woman incarcerated in a federal prison sits alone in her cell, reflecting the growing controversy over policies that could force transgender inmates off hormone therapy under Executive Order 14168. (Image generated by ChatGPT using DALL·E, 2026.)

Executive Order 14168, issued on January 20, 2025 and titled Defending Women from Gender Ideology Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government, has reshaped how transgender people are treated by federal institutions. While much public discussion has centered on gender markers or legal recognition of transgender identity, one of the most immediate and dangerous consequences of the order has emerged inside the federal prison system. In particular, policy changes following the order have led to attempts by federal prison authorities to discontinue hormone therapy and other gender-affirming medical treatments for incarcerated transgender people. For many transgender inmates, this policy shift represents not only a denial of identity but also a serious threat to physical and psychological health. At the same time, the logic behind these policies raises broader concerns about how transgender people may be treated by federal institutions beyond the prison system.

The executive order directs federal agencies to recognize only two sexes—male and female—defined as immutable and determined at conception (The White House, 2025). This directive eliminates gender identity as a category recognized in federal administration. When applied to the federal prison system, the policy affects how prisoners are classified, housed, and treated medically. Most critically, it has been used to justify attempts to eliminate or restrict gender-affirming healthcare for incarcerated transgender people.

Gender-affirming hormone therapy is widely recognized by major medical organizations as a necessary treatment for individuals diagnosed with gender dysphoria. Medical consensus holds that hormone therapy can significantly reduce psychological distress, depression, and suicide risk among transgender patients. Within prison environments—where individuals already face isolation, stress, and restricted autonomy—continuity of medical care is considered especially important. Nevertheless, following the issuance of Executive Order 14168, federal prison officials moved to halt or restrict such treatment.

Reporting by the Associated Press indicates that the policy shift prompted the Federal Bureau of Prisons to attempt to terminate or suspend hormone therapy for transgender inmates in federal custody (Riccardi & Kunzelman, 2025). The decision sparked immediate legal challenges from incarcerated transgender individuals who argued that the abrupt withdrawal of medically prescribed treatment would cause severe harm. In multiple cases, courts were asked to intervene to prevent the termination of hormone therapy.

In June 2025, a federal judge ruled that the Bureau of Prisons must continue providing hormone therapy to transgender inmates while litigation proceeds. Reuters journalist Nate Raymond reported that the court found the government had failed to justify abruptly ending treatment that physicians had previously deemed medically necessary (Raymond, 2025). The ruling emphasized that forcing transgender prisoners to discontinue hormone therapy could produce serious psychological consequences and potentially violate constitutional protections against cruel and unusual punishment.

Despite these court rulings, recent reporting suggests that federal prison policies continue to move toward restricting gender-affirming care. In March 2026, Samantha Riedel reported in Them that federal prison authorities had begun implementing policies requiring transgender inmates receiving hormone therapy to gradually discontinue those medications (Riedel, 2026). According to medical experts cited in the report, forced withdrawal from hormone therapy can lead to severe depression, anxiety, and increased risk of self-harm. For individuals who have relied on hormone therapy for years as part of a medically supervised transition, being forced off treatment can trigger profound physical and psychological distress.

These medical risks are particularly concerning in correctional environments. Prison systems already struggle with high rates of mental health crises, and incarcerated individuals frequently have limited access to specialized medical care. When transgender inmates are forced off hormone therapy, the resulting psychological distress can be intensified by the conditions of confinement, including isolation, stigma, and lack of support networks. The loss of hormone therapy can also have visible physical effects that may expose transgender prisoners to additional harassment or violence from other inmates.

Although these developments are occurring within federal prisons, the implications extend beyond incarcerated populations. Policies implemented within prisons often reflect broader ideological frameworks that can shape how government agencies treat marginalized groups more generally. When federal policy defines sex as immutable and rejects the legitimacy of gender identity, that definition may influence how transgender people are treated across a wide range of institutions, including healthcare systems, identification programs, and federal employment policies.

The attempt to eliminate hormone therapy for transgender prisoners demonstrates how quickly policy can shift from symbolic definitions to control over medical care and bodily autonomy. If federal institutions can deny gender-affirming treatment to incarcerated individuals based on a policy redefining sex, similar arguments could potentially be used to justify restrictions in other contexts. While prisoners occupy a uniquely vulnerable position under government authority, policies affecting them can serve as testing grounds for broader administrative approaches.

History offers numerous examples in which policies applied first to prisoners or other marginalized groups later expand into wider legal frameworks. In the case of Executive Order 14168, the removal of gender identity from federal policy raises concerns that transgender people may face increasing barriers to medical care and legal recognition across multiple institutions. For transgender Americans, the developments within federal prisons therefore represent more than a correctional policy dispute; they signal how federal authority may increasingly regulate transgender bodies and identities.

The ongoing legal challenges surrounding hormone therapy in federal prisons will play a significant role in determining the future of transgender healthcare within federal institutions. Courts must decide whether the abrupt withdrawal of medically necessary treatment constitutes deliberate indifference to serious medical needs, which could violate the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment. The outcome of these cases will shape not only the lives of transgender prisoners but also the broader legal landscape governing transgender rights in the United States.

Executive Order 14168 has therefore created a situation in which the treatment of transgender inmates has become a focal point in a larger struggle over recognition, medical care, and bodily autonomy. The attempt to force transgender prisoners off hormone therapy illustrates how administrative policy decisions can translate into immediate and profound consequences for vulnerable individuals. At the same time, it raises deeper questions about how far such policies might extend and what they could mean for transgender people beyond prison walls.

References

Raymond, N. (2025, June 3). U.S. judge says federal prisons must continue hormone therapy for transgender inmates. Reuters. https://www.reuters.com/legal/us-judge-orders-prisons-continue-hormone-therapy-transgender-inmates

Riccardi, N., & Kunzelman, M. (2025, January 23). What to know about President Donald Trump’s order targeting transgender rights. Associated Press. https://apnews.com/article/trump-transgender-passports-prisons-eggs-sperm-da1d1d280658a8c85c57cfec2f30cefb

Riedel, S. (2026, March 10). Federal prisons are beginning to force trans inmates off hormone therapy. Them. https://www.them.us/story/federal-prisons-are-beginning-to-force-trans-inmates-off-hormone-therapy

The White House. (2025). Executive Order 14168: Defending women from gender ideology extremism and restoring biological truth to the federal government. https://public-inspection.federalregister.gov/2025-02090.pdf

OPM Ends Gender-Affirming Care in 2026

By Katherine Walter

On August 25, 2025

In LGBTQ+ rights

The recent announcement from the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) that gender-affirming health care will be excluded from the Federal Employees Health Benefits (FEHB) and Postal Service Health Benefits (PSHB) programs beginning in 2026 represents a profound step backward in civil rights and health equity. Under this directive, chemical and surgical interventions for gender transition will no longer be covered, though counseling for gender dysphoria must remain available. Insurance carriers are required to develop exceptions processes for individuals currently undergoing such care, yet the parameters of those processes remain undefined. Providers of gender-affirming care are also barred from being listed in plan directories, effectively discouraging access (Office of Personnel Management, 2025; Moss, 2025).

To understand the gravity of this reversal, it is necessary to recall how hard-fought the gains for transgender health care under FEHB were. In 2014, OPM lifted the longstanding blanket exclusion of gender-affirming procedures, and by 2016 carriers were instructed not to categorically deny such care. This change aligned federal benefits with emerging medical consensus that gender-affirming treatments are not elective but medically necessary. The World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH) and the Endocrine Society have long affirmed that access to hormone therapy and surgeries significantly reduces psychological distress, improves quality of life, and prevents serious health complications (Hembree et al., 2017; Coleman et al., 2022). For nearly a decade, transgender federal employees and retirees could rely on this coverage as a matter of equity and recognition of their humanity.

As a transgender woman who has been receiving gender-affirming health care for more than eleven years, this policy shift strikes me not just as a bureaucratic adjustment but as a direct threat to my life and well-being. Having undergone an orchiectomy, I rely on estradiol not simply as an affirming treatment, but as essential hormone replacement. Without it, my bones, cardiovascular health, cognition, and emotional stability would be at severe risk. Estradiol for me is no different than thyroid medication for someone with hypothyroidism—it is medically necessary, lifelong care. To see it lumped under a politically charged category of “optional” transition services is both scientifically inaccurate and deeply insulting.

What unsettles me most is the uncertainty this policy creates. OPM’s promise of an “exceptions process” offers little clarity. Will it protect those of us with medical histories spanning over a decade of consistent care? Or will it force us into endless appeals and denials, treating every prescription refill as a battle? This ambiguity is destabilizing, and I cannot help but feel that it is intentional—designed to make care harder to access and to discourage providers from stepping forward.

As a federal retiree, I gave years of service under the assumption that the benefits I earned would protect me equitably. Now, I feel as though my identity has made me a target within the very system I trusted. The estimated 14,000 transgender federal employees and retirees who will be affected are not faceless statistics; we are people who dedicated our careers to serving this country, only to be told that our health care needs are unworthy of recognition (Lambda Legal, 2025; them.us, 2025). The exclusion also signals a dangerous precedent: that essential medical care can be stripped away not because of evidence or cost, but because of politics.

This change must be understood in its broader social context. Over the past decade, transgender Americans have seen both progress and backlash. The Affordable Care Act’s Section 1557 extended nondiscrimination protections in health care, and the Supreme Court’s ruling in Bostock v. Clayton County (2020) affirmed that gender identity is protected under Title VII. Yet, simultaneously, states across the country have passed laws restricting access to gender-affirming care, particularly for youth, framing these measures as cultural wedge issues. The OPM directive extends that wave of exclusion into the federal system, embedding discrimination into the nation’s largest employer-based insurance program.

For me personally, this is not an abstract policy debate. It is about whether I will be able to continue accessing the medication that keeps me healthy and alive. It is about whether the years of progress we celebrated were only temporary reprieves. And it is about what message this sends to younger transgender people entering federal service today: that their health and dignity can be used as bargaining chips in political battles.

I cannot help but feel anxious about what the future holds, but I also feel resolved. This rollback will not go unchallenged. Advocacy groups such as Lambda Legal, the National Center for Transgender Equality, and others have already condemned it as unlawful and are preparing legal strategies (Lambda Legal, 2025). As a transgender woman and a retiree, I plan to add my voice to that chorus, because silence is what allows discrimination to endure. We have fought too hard, and for too long, to let the ground be taken out from under us without resistance.

References

Coleman, E., Radix, A. E., Bouman, W. P., Brown, G. R., de Vries, A. L. C., Deutsch, M. B., … Winter, S. (2022). Standards of Care for the Health of Transgender and Gender Diverse People, Version 8. International Journal of Transgender Health, 23(sup1), S1–S259. https://doi.org/10.1080/26895269.2022.2100644

Hembree, W. C., Cohen-Kettenis, P. T., Gooren, L., Hannema, S. E., Meyer, W. J., Murad, M. H., … T’Sjoen, G. G. (2017). Endocrine Treatment of Gender-Dysphoric/Gender-Incongruent Persons: An Endocrine Society Clinical Practice Guideline. The Journal of Clinical Endocrinology & Metabolism, 102(11), 3869–3903. https://doi.org/10.1210/jc.2017-01658

Lambda Legal. (2025, August 19). Lambda Legal condemns Trump administration’s illegal exclusion of gender-affirming care from employee health benefits. Retrieved August 22, 2025, from https://lambdalegal.org/newsroom

Moss, K. (2025, August 20). Coverage for gender-affirming care will be eliminated from FEHB plans in 2026. Government Executive. Retrieved August 22, 2025, from https://www.govexec.com

Office of Personnel Management. (2025). Carrier Letter 2025-01b: Chemical and surgical sex-trait modification exclusion. Retrieved August 22, 2025, from https://opm.gov

them.us. (2025, August 20). Trump Admin to end coverage of gender-affirming care for federal workers. them. Retrieved August 22, 2025, from https://www.them

Why Teaching Requires More Than Pedagogy

By Katherine Walter

On May 16, 2025

In educational institutions

Created with ChatGPT

As someone who holds a Master’s degree in Anthropology, I entered the world of education with both passion and purpose. While my primary focus was cultural anthropology, I—like every graduate in the discipline—was trained in all four subfields: cultural, linguistic, archaeological, and biological anthropology. That meant I not only studied cultures and societies, but also the scientific method, human evolution, genetics, and the biological roots of human behavior. I came to education with a deep respect for science and evidence-based learning.

This is why, during an assignment as a substitute teacher in a high school science class in Illinois, I was shocked when the regular teacher told me—without hesitation—that “scientific theories are not factual.” He dismissed evolution as “make believe,” clearly unaware that a scientific theory is one of the highest forms of scientific understanding—built upon repeated observation, experimentation, and peer review. Evolution is the cornerstone of modern biology, not a matter of personal belief.

This isn’t a harmless slip-up. This is a fundamental failure in teacher preparation. It’s not enough to teach students how to learn if we’re giving them incorrect or ideologically distorted content. I’ve read critiques arguing that college should be limited to learning within one’s major, and that students should have mastered foundational knowledge in high school. The reality is, many high school students aren’t mastering those foundations—because their teachers are not adequately prepared to teach them.

Too many teacher preparation programs emphasize methods over mastery. Aspiring educators are trained extensively in classroom management, differentiated instruction, and educational theory—yet not always required to have a deep command of the subjects they will teach. In some cases, they’re licensed to teach science with little more than a generalist background.

And the problem doesn’t end with science.

I was working toward my teaching license through a Master of Arts in Teaching (MAT) program when I encountered another systemic problem—this time around sex education. I have a sex-positive stance, one rooted in both personal conviction and research-based evidence. In one health class I observed, students were assigned to budget for the costs of raising a newborn. It was clear the goal was to instill fear—to use financial anxiety as a scare tactic to promote abstinence. But studies have consistently shown that abstinence-only education not only fails to prevent teen pregnancy and STIs but can also be psychologically harmful, particularly to students who do become young parents.

Sexual health education should be empowering and factual, not shame-driven. But when I expressed my concerns, I encountered resistance—not just from individual educators, but from the institution itself.

Things came to a head when a student created a video montage of several posts from my account on X (formerly Twitter). These were not instructional posts. They were personal, blunt statements about my sexual desires—an expression of my identity as a sex-positive transgender woman and my belief that it is okay to have sexual feelings as a man or trans woman who is attracted to men. These posts were part of my advocacy: normalizing desire, refusing shame, and affirming the validity of trans and queer sexuality.

The school’s administration didn’t see it that way. Despite my academic progress and professional goals, my student teaching was terminated by the principal and HR. The university I was attending stated that they supported me—but they offered no legal or practical assistance in dealing with the district. Ultimately, I was left to fend for myself, and I made the painful decision to withdraw from the MAT program.

This experience left me disillusioned but not without resolve. It exposed not only the institutional discomfort with sex positivity and LGBTQ+ inclusion, but also a broader systemic issue: we are not preparing teachers who are content experts, nor are we protecting those who challenge outdated or harmful norms. We are failing both our educators and our students.

This is why I firmly believe that the time has come to rethink our entire approach to public education. In today’s complex and fast-paced world, a high school diploma is no longer sufficient preparation for the workforce—or for responsible citizenship. I believe a community college education should become the new baseline, just as a high school diploma was once considered the minimum requirement. Community colleges offer an affordable, accessible means of deepening one’s understanding of science, mathematics, communication, and civic literacy. They can provide a critical bridge to more specialized training and help ensure that our future educators, health workers, and citizens are equipped with both knowledge and critical thinking skills.

We need teachers who understand evolution, who can explain the scientific method, who are prepared to address the realities of human sexuality without resorting to fear or shame. We need school districts that protect educators from ideological purges, and universities that do more than offer symbolic support when their students face political or cultural backlash.

I may have been pushed out of the MAT program, but I have not given up on education. I still believe deeply in the power of teaching—and in the need for radical reform in how we prepare those who take on that responsibility.

Our students deserve teachers who are not only caring and skilled, but who actually know what they’re talking about. Anything less is a betrayal of their potential.