Breaking the mental health mold with Ketamine: insights from creator of Better U
How this brand is making high-impact mental health care available to the people who need it most
By AJ SLOAN
Ketamine therapy was once on the fringe, but now makes up a fast-growing field in the world of Mental Health. Derek Du Chesne of Better U, a mental health service in West Hollywood, shares how his team attempts to make psychedelic care safer, smarter and more accessible.
Mental health is finally getting the attention it deserves and as our understanding of it deepens, so does the range of tools available to support it. In recent years, psychedelic-assisted treatments like ketamine are gaining serious ground and a growing number of clinicians have turned to these as promising alternatives to more traditional methods. Enter Du Chesne, creator of Better U, with the goal of making ketamine therapy more accessible and personal. In our conversation, Du Chesne shares the mission behind Better U, the challenges faced by underserved communities and how his team is aiming to reshape the mental health landscape one patient at a time.
Can you share what Better U is all about?
I’m the founder and CEO of Better U. We’re a telemedicine-based alternative wellness platform, currently operating in 35 states. We primarily offer ketamine therapy for conditions like depression, anxiety, PTSD and suicidal ideation. We also provide services in sexual health, clinical weight loss and holistic psychiatry.
You’ve had your own experience with psychedelic therapy. Can you talk about how that journey inspired Better U?
Six years ago, I never imagined I’d be doing this. I had used psychedelics recreationally, but ketamine never interested me. I saw it as a horse tranquilizer nothing I’d ever take seriously.
I had been working in alternative health, specifically cannabinoids mainly on the supply chain side across several industries. In 2019, I traveled to about 40 countries for work and we raised around $40 million in capital. That year, my company made $85 million in revenue and was heading into a $1.2 billion acquisition. Personally, I was also about to get married. Within six weeks, both my career and my relationship unraveled. The company let me go just before my equity vested and I later found out my fiancée had been unfaithful while I was on the road.
Everything I had built my identity around collapsed. I spiraled into a deep depression, tried therapy, psychiatry, and antidepressants. None of it helped. Eventually, I became suicidal. A close friend intervened and brought me to a ketamine clinic. I was extremely skeptical, especially since a single session cost $1,600. But about 15 minutes into it, I felt like I could breathe again for the first time in months.
The treatment helped me separate from the constant, negative thought loops. It created space between me and my pain, helping me see that the things that happened didn’t define me. That clarity changed everything. I no longer felt like I had to carry shame or blame for what others had done. It gave me peace.
Shortly after, a friend suggested I get out of my environ-
ment. Everything in my home reminded me of the past. I went to The Bahamas for a reset: sun, exercise and healing. That period helped me recalibrate.
Months later, I was invited to Stanford by a friend whose sister leads epidemiology there. At dinner, I met someone involved in psychedelic research. I shared my experience and he invited me to visit their depression clinic and psychedelic research lab. That’s when I realized the transformative potential of these therapies. I sat with hospice patients receiving psychedelic treatments. People from all walks of life have similar, profound responses. It was incredibly moving.
The therapy helps them see that those coping mechanisms aren’t serving them anymore.
We’re based in West Hollywood, so we’re deeply embedded in this community. In cases of suicide attempts, local hospitals like Cedars-Sinai often reach out to us because ketamine has become one of the most effective tools for treating suicidal ideation.
That said, it’s not a cure-all. If someone is abusing ketamine recreationally, we won’t treat them with it. It’s not safe or appropriate. But in a clinical setting, when properly dosed and supported with integration care, we’ve seen almost no cases of addiction. It can be a powerful tool for healing when used with intention.
That’s when I started thinking: how do we make this affordable and accessible? My first ketamine session was powerful, but afterward, there was no follow-up, just a “see you next week.” It felt transactional. I wanted to build something more thoughtful, especially for people like those in my small hometown in Wisconsin where mental health care is rare and stigma is high.
Better U was born from that idea.
Better U has facilitated over 230,000 sessions for around 18,000 patients nationwide. A large portion of your clients identify as LGBTQ. Why do you think ketamine therapy resonates so deeply with that community?
The LGBTQ community is incredibly diverse, and so are the challenges its members face, from gender dysphoria and identity struggles to rejection from family, friends, or society. That rejection often comes right at the moment someone begins living as their authentic self. The emotional toll can be devastating and in many cases, the suicide rates, especially among trans individuals, are alarmingly high.
Ketamine therapy creates space. It allows someone to step outside of the emotional chaos, the shame, fear, judgment and look at themselves without that mental noise. When you can separate your identity from the voices in your head or the reactions of others, there’s clarity. You begin to realize, “This pain isn’t about who I am, it’s about others’ inability to accept me.” That shift can be life-saving.
Many of our LGBTQ clients come to us after years of self-medicating with alcohol, drugs, or even unhealthy relationships. Others feel like they’ve hit a wall with traditional talk therapy. As we age, our brains get more set in their patterns. Ketamine disrupts those patterns. It can help people access a deeper level of understanding and healing, especially when other methods have stalled.
What’s powerful is that many patients don’t come in intending to stop drinking or using substances. They come for anxiety, depression, or suicidal thoughts. But after a few sessions, they’ll say, “I realize my drinking is tied to social anxiety,” or “I use because I feel like I have to numb myself to be accepted.”
Trauma-informed care is a term that gets used a lot in mental health these days, but what does it actually mean to you and how do you apply that framework at Better U?
To me, trauma-informed care means creating a system where every person interacting with a patient, from intake to integration, is trained to recognize, respect and respond to trauma. At Better U, we’ve built multiple layers of support to reflect that. While our welcome team handles basic screenings and eligibility, it’s our clinicians, integration therapists and success team who are most deeply trained in trauma-informed practices.
The unfortunate reality is that many ketamine clinics are founded by anesthesiologists—people who understand how to use the drug medically, but have little or no training in mental health. You can see it when you look at their teams: no psychotherapists, no psychiatrists, no trauma-informed staff. That’s dangerous, especially with a treatment that has the potential to surface deeply emotional material.
At Better U, we made sure to embed trauma-informed care into our clinical culture. Our doctors like Dr. Zaa Faul—a dual-board-certified addiction specialist and Army veteran—and Dr. Jamie Brooks, have deep expertise in both mental and physical health. Our success team, which supports patients after their sessions, is mostly made up of licensed therapists and professionals with years of experience in crisis care, psychedelic research and emotional integration.
Trauma-informed care also means learning how to hold space for people in distress. When I was the only person speaking to patients in our early days, I got yelled at, cussed out, blamed, not because patients were “bad” people, but because they were in pain. Maybe they hadn’t slept, or fasted before a session and were feeling raw. Maybe they were grieving or reliving trauma. You have to meet people where they are, understand that it’s not personal, and guide them toward healing without judgment. That’s where nonviolent communication becomes essential too. It’s a big part of how we train our staff.
Ultimately, it’s not just about delivering a treatment. It’s about helping people feel seen and safe enough to transform.
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Koaty & Sumner: Finding love in the adult industry
This Q&A explores the adult content industry and how this couple is making it work for them
By ALEXANDER RODRIGUEZ
Koaty and Sumner Blayne are not exactly the definition of a conventional relationship. How many couples can say they met during a threesome? It isn’t as lurid as it sounds and it is a sweet story. The couple has been together for six years, got engaged and started planning for a big wedding next year. Whereas most couples clock into work outside of the home, Koaty and Sumner clock in at home, in front of a camera for OnlyFans and social media.
Their lives got national attention as they made their reality TV debut on Tubi’s House of Heat last year, joining other queer and straight OnlyFans content creators in a Hollywood mansion for weeks of filming. The show of course covered the drama of a content creator’s life, including relationship ups and downs, but it also captured the realities of what it takes to be a successful OnlyFans personality. Koaty and Sumner shared the intimate details of their relationship, the exhaustion that comes with the pressure to present the perfect couple day after day and the jealousies that can come with two careers in the adult industry. While Koaty filmed his first adult studio work this year, Sumner has spent a few years working for studio names like Sean Cody, Falcon and Men.com, among others. Somehow, the two make it work.
The two have become a very popular brand both on OnlyFans and on mainstream social media. It doesn’t hurt that they are constantly coming up with new kinds of content and the fact that they aren’t hard on the eyes at all. This year, they were awarded Best Podcast at the International Content Creator Awards for their debut pod, In Bed with Koaty & Sumner, where they cover all aspects of their lives in the adult industry—the good, the bad, and the challenging.
In this Los Angeles Blade exclusive, we talked to the couple about finding love in the adult industry while keeping the spark alive.
What are some of the biggest misconceptions people have about couples in the adult industry?
People assume we’re either constantly hooking up with others or emotionally detached robots who don’t feel jealousy or connection. In reality, we have boundaries, deep communication and a whole lot of love. We just also happen to have sex on camera. Being in the adult industry doesn’t make us less committed, our job just involves lube.
How do you maintain a healthy relationship—and manage jealousy—in an open relationship?
We’ve had to learn how to have the tough conversations, especially after the honeymoon phase wore off. It’s about recognizing how we each love differently and asking for what we need. Trust and transparency are non-negotiable. We check in constantly—before shoots, after, during dinner—nothing is off limits. We’ve even learned to turn jealousy into compersion. Usually, it just takes a little reassurance… and maybe a snack.
How do you balance your relationship with the pressure of constant content creation?
Sometimes we don’t—and that’s okay. There are days we’re exhausted and need to just be husbands, not performers. We schedule breaks, unplug often, and make time to be us. It’s not always fifty-fifty—sometimes one of us is struggling and the other steps up. We check in, readjust, and give each other grace.
How do you keep the spark alive through the years?
We stay intentional. Too many couples stop talking about sex after the honeymoon phase, expecting it to fix itself. As gay men, we’re often raised without proper sex education and with a lot of shame. We’ve had to unlearn that, be curious and have honest con-
versations about our needs surrounding sex. The spark stays alive when we keep showing up—and make sex intentional
What have you learned most from each other?
Sumner: Koaty’s taught me patience and how to slow down and feel safe.
Koaty: Sumner’s taught me how to communicate and love without fear.
What do you love most about the other?
Sumner: His loyalty. He shows up for me in ways that make me feel protected and seen—even when I’m chaotic.
Koaty: His vulnerability. He shares his heart so openly. It’s impossible not to fall for him again and again.
How have your families reacted to your careers?
They’ve been super supportive and just want to see us happy—traveling, building a life and doing what we love.
What did you learn about yourselves filming House of Heat?
Reality TV brings out everything—the good, the bad and the unhinged. But it reminded us how grounded we are in each other. Cameras or chaos, what we have is real.
What are some of the biggest challenges you face as a couple in the adult industry?
The constant pressure to perform—on camera, on social media, and emotionally. People project a lot onto us. It’s easy to forget who we are off camera, but we remind ourselves that our relationship comes first—before algorithms, followers, or collabs.
Any sneak peeks for your wedding next year?
We’ve booked the venue! The guest list is coming together… and let’s just say some of our hosts might be from RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 12.
Any advice for other couples in the adult world?
Communicate constantly, keep your ego in check, and treat your relationship like the most valuable thing you have—because it is. The camera should capture your connection, not replace it. Filming can be fun, but it’s still work. Your partnership—the trust, the intimacy, the real love—is what truly matters.
You can follow Koaty and Sumner on Instagram at: www.instagram.com/koatysum Check out their podcast, In Bed with Koaty and Sumner, at: podcasts.apple.com/us/ podcast/in-bed-with-koaty-sumner/id1771071509
Treasury Dept. has a gay secretary but LGBTQ staff are under siege
Agency reverses course on inclusion under Bessent
By CHRISTOPHER KANE | ckane@washblade.com
A former Treasury Department employee who led the agency’s LGBTQ employee resource group says the removal of sexual orientation and gender identity (SOGI) from its discrimination complaint forms was merely a formalization of existing policy shifts that had already taken hold following the second inauguration of President Donald Trump and his appointment of Scott Bessent — who is gay — to lead the agency.
Christen Boas Hayes, who served on the policy team at Treasury’s Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN) from 2020 until March of this year, told the Washington Blade during a phone interview last week that the agency had already stopped processing internal Equal Employment Opportunity (EEO) complaints on the basis of anti-LGBTQ discrimination.
“So the way that the forms are changing is a procedural recognition of something that’s already happening,” said Hayes. “Internally, from speaking to two EEO staff members, the changes are already taking place from an EEO perspective on what kind of cases will be found to have the basis for a complaint.”
The move, they said, comes amid the deterioration of support structures for LGBTQ workers at the agency since the administration’s early rollout of anti-LGBTQ executive orders, which led to “a trickle down effect of how each agency implements those and on what timeline,” decisions “typically made by the assistant secretary of management’s office and then implemented by the appropriate offices.”
At the end of June, a group of U.S. House Democrats including several out LGBTQ members raised alarms after a Federal Register notice disclosed Treasury’s plans to revise its complaint procedures. Through the agency’s Office of Civil Rights and EEO, the agency would eliminate SOGI as protected categories on the forms used by employees to initiate claims of workplace discrimination.
But Hayes’s account reveals that the paperwork change followed months of internal practice, pursuant to a wave of layoffs targeting DEI personnel and a chilling effect on LGBTQ organizing, including through ERGs.
Hayes joined Treasury’s FinCEN in 2020 as the agency transitioned into the Biden-Harris administration, working primarily on cryptocurrency regulation and emerging technologies until they accepted a “deferred resignation” offer, which was extended to civil servants this year amid drastic staffing cuts.
“It was two things,” Hayes said. “One was the fact that the policy work that I was very excited about doing was going to change in nature significantly. The second part was that the environment for LGBTQ staff members was increasingly negative after the release of the executive orders,” especially for trans
and nonbinary or gender diverse employees.
“At the same time,” Hayes added, “having been on the job for four years, I also knew this year was the year that I would leave Treasury. I was a good candidate for [deferred resignation], because I was already planning on leaving, but the pressures that emerged following the change in administration really pushed me to accelerate that timeline.”
Hayes became involved with the Treasury LGBTQ ERG shortly after joining the agency in 2020, when they reached out to the group’s then-president — “who also recently took the deferred resignation.”
“She said that because of the pressure that ERGs had faced under the first Trump administration, the group was rebuilding, and I became the president of the group pretty quickly,” Hayes said. “Those pressures have increased in the second Trump administration.”
One of the previous ERG board members had left the agency after encountering what Hayes described as “explicitly transphobic” treatment from supervisors during his gender transition. “His supervisors denied him a promotion,” and, “importantly, he did not have faith in the EEO complaint process” to see the issues with discrimination resolved, Hayes said. “And so he decided to just leave, which was, of course, such a loss for Treasury and our Employee Resource Group and all of our employees at Treasury.”
The umbrella LGBTQ ERG that Hayes led included hundreds of members across the agency, they said, and was complemented by smaller ERGs at sub-agencies like the IRS and FinCEN — several of which, Hayes said, were explicitly told to cease operations under the new administration.
Hayes did not receive any formal directive to shutter Treasury’s ERG, but described an “implicit” messaging campaign meant to shut down the group’s activities without issuing anything in writing.
“The suggestion was to stop emailing about anything related to the employee resource group, to have meetings outside of work hours, to meet off of Treasury’s campus, and things like that,” they said. “So obviously that contributes to essentially not existing functionally. Because whereas we could have previously emailed our members comfortably to announce a happy hour or a training or something like that, now they have to text each other personally to gather, which essentially makes it a defunct group.”
Hayes said the dismantling of DEI staff began almost immediately after the executive orders. Employees whose position descriptions included the terms “diversity, equity, and inclusion” were “on the chopping block,” they said. “That may differ from more statutorily mandated positions in the OMWI office or the EEO office.”
With those staff gone, so went the infrastructure that enabled ERG programming and community-building. “The people that made our employee resource group events possible were DEI staff that were fired. And so, it created an immediate chilling effect on our employee resource group, and it also, of course, put fear into a lot of our members’ hearts over whether or not we
would be able to continue gathering as a community or supporting employees in a more practical way going forward. And it was just, really — it was really sad.”
Hayes described efforts to erase the ERGs from internal communication channels and databases. “They also took our information off internal websites so nobody could find us as lawyers went through the agency’s internal systems to scrub DEI language and programs,” they said.
Within a week, Hayes said, the administration had removed gender-neutral restrooms from Main Treasury, removed third-gender markers from internal databases and forms, and made it more difficult for employees with nonbinary IDs to access government buildings.
“[They] made it challenging for people with X gender markers on identification documents to access Treasury or the White House by not recognizing their gender marker on the TWAVES and WAVES forms.”
The changes have left many LGBTQ staff feeling vulnerable — not only because of diminished workplace inclusion, but due to concerns about job security amid the administration’s reductions in force (RIFs).
“Plenty of people are feeling very stressed, not only about retaining their jobs because of the layoffs and pending questions around RIFs, but then also wondering if they will be included in RIF lists because they’re being penalized somehow for being out at work,” Hayes said. “People wonder if their name will be given, not because they’re in a tranche of billets being laid off, but because of their gender identity or sexual orientation.”
In the absence of functional ERGs, Hayes said, LGBTQ employees have been cut off from even informal networks of support.
“Employees [are] feeling like it’s harder to find members of their own community because there’s no email anymore to ask when the next event is or to ask about navigating healthcare or other questions,” they said. “If there is no ERG to go to to ask for support for their specific issue, that contributes to isolation, which contributes to a worse work environment.”
Hayes said they had not interacted directly with Secretary Bessent, but they and others observed a shift from the previous administration. “It is stark to see that our first ‘out’ secretary did not host a Pride event this year,” they said. “For the last three years we’ve flown the rainbow Pride flag above Treasury during Pride. And it was such a celebration among staff and Secretary Yellen and the executive secretary’s office were super supportive.”
“Employees notice changes like that,” they added. “Things like the fact that the Secretary’s official bio says ‘spouse’ instead of ‘husband.’ It makes employees wonder if they too should be fearful of being their full selves at work.”
The Blade contacted the Treasury Department with a request for comment outlining Hayes’s allegations, including the removal of inclusive infrastructure, the discouragement of ERG activity, the pre-formalization of EEO policy changes, and the targeting of DEI personnel. As of publication, the agency has not responded.
U.S. Treasury Secretary SCOTT BESSENT (Blade photo by Michael Key)
Activist recalls experience in Tel Aviv after Israel-Iran war began
Marty Rouse was part of Pride mission
By MICHAEL K. LAVERS | mlavers@washblade.com
A long-time activist who was in Israel last month when its war with Iran began has returned to D.C.
Marty Rouse traveled to Israel on June 6 with the Jewish Federations of North America. The five-day mission ended the night before the annual Tel Aviv Pride parade was scheduled to take place.
Mission participants met with Israeli President Isaac Herzog and several LGBTQ activists in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. They visited the Western Wall, the Nova Music Festival site, and Nir Oz, a kibbutz in southern Israel that is less than a mile from the country’s border with the Gaza Strip. Mission participants also visited Sderot, a city that is roughly a mile from the Hamas-controlled enclave, a veterans rehabilitation facility, a new LGBTQ health center and the Aguda: The Association for LGBTQ Equality in Israel in Tel Aviv.
Hamas militants on Oct. 7, 2023, killed upwards of 360 partygoers and kidnapped dozens more at the music festival that was taking place at a campground near Re’im, a kibbutz that is roughly 10 miles southwest of Nir Oz. The militants killed or took hostage nearly a quarter of Nir Oz’s residents. They also took control of Sderot’s police station.
Tel Aviv Deputy Mayor Chen Arieli spoke at the mission’s closing party that took place at the Sheraton Grand, a hotel that overlooks Tel Aviv’s beachfront, on June 12.
Rouse and other mission participants planned to stay in Tel Aviv for the Pride parade, which was scheduled to take place the following day. He and Gordie Nathan, another mission participant who lives in Palm Springs, Calif., had checked into a nearby hotel that was less expensive.
“We said our farewells,” recalled Rouse when he spoke with the Washington Blade in D.C. on June 24. “We went to our hotels, and we get the warning, and then all hell broke loose.” Israel early on June 13 launched airstrikes against Iran that targeted the country’s nuclear and military facilities.
Rouse said mission organizers told him and other participants who remained in Tel Aviv to meet at the Sheraton Grand for breakfast and dinner — Israel’s airspace was closed in anticipation of an Iranian counterattack, and authorities cancelled the Pride parade.
He said he went to bomb shelters at least twice a night for three nights.
Israel’s Home Front Command during the war typically issued warnings about 10 minutes ahead of an anticipated Iranian missile attack. Sirens then sounded 90 seconds before an expected strike.
Rouse and Nathan walked to the Sheraton Grand on June 13 when the Home Front Command issued a 10-minute warning. They reached the hotel in a couple of minutes, and staff directed them to the bomb shelter.
“You know to walk slowly, everything’s fine,” recalled Rouse. “You get 10 minutes, so everything was fine when the alarm goes off.”
Rouse described the Sheraton Grand shelter as “well lit” with WiFi, a television, and air conditioning. He was watching an Israeli television station’s live coverage of the Iranian mis-
sile attack when he saw one hit an apartment building in the Tel Aviv suburb of Ramat Gan.
A 74-year-old woman died and her boyfriend was seriously injured.
“I go over to look at the TV, just to watch,” recalled Rouse. “All of a sudden, you watch, and you see one bomb go and land and explode in Tel Aviv on TV. It landed and blew up.”
“I was like, okay, this is real, and so that was scary,” he added.
Rouse said the bomb shelter in the hotel where he and Nathan were staying after the mission ended was far less comfortable.
“It was dark. It was humid. It was hot. It was very uncomfortable,” said Rouse. “You really felt alone.”
Rouse and nearly everyone else on the mission who were in Tel Aviv when the war began left Israel on June 15. They boarded buses that took them to the Jordanian capital of Amman, which is a roughly 2 1/2-hour drive from Tel Aviv through the West Bank.
Rouse described the trip as “like a field trip” until they drove across the Jordan River and arrived at the Jordanian border crossing.
“You walk into this room, and instead of being in a well air-conditioned airport, you’re in this hot, humid, small place in the middle of the desert, packed with people, and those big, large, loud fans and pictures of military people on the walls,” he said. “It was almost like a Casablanca kind of feeling.”
Rouse said Jordanian authorities brought mission participants through customs in groups of 10. A Jewish Federations of North America liaison from Amman who previously worked as a tour guide for A Wider Bridge — a group that “advocates for justice, counters LGBTQphobia, and fights antisemitism and other forms of hatred” — went “behind closed doors” to ensure everyone was able to enter the country.
“It took a really long time,” Rouse told the Blade.
Mission participants arrived in Amman a short time later. They checked into their hotel and then had dinner at a restaurant.
“Now we feel like we’re safe and we’re in Amman,” recalled Rouse. “We’re sitting outside having a beautiful dinner.”
Iranian missiles passed over Amman shortly after Rouse and the other mission participants had begun to eat their dessert. They went inside the restaurant, and waited a few minutes before they boarded busses that brought them back to their hotel.
“No one was openly freaking out, which I was surprised by,” said Rouse.
The group was scheduled to fly from Amman to Cairo at 11 p.m. local time (4 p.m. ET) on June 16. They visited Jerash, an ancient city north of Amman, before their flight left Jordan.
“[The Jerash trip] actually took our minds off of everything,” said Rouse.
A Jewish Federations of North America contact met Rouse and the other mission participants at Cairo’s airport once their flight landed. Rouse arrived at JFK Airport in New York on June
17.
President Donald Trump on June 23 announced a ceasefire that ended the 12-day war.
The U.S. three days earlier launched airstrikes that struck three Iranian nuclear sites. The ceasefire took effect hours after Iran launched missiles at a U.S. military base in Qatar.
Iran said the war killed more than 900 people in the country.
The Associated Press notes Iranian missiles killed 28 people in Israel. One of them destroyed Tel Aviv’s last gay bar on June 16.
The war took place less than two years after Oct. 7.
The Israeli government says Hamas militants on Oct. 7, 2023, killed roughly 1,200 people on that day when it launched its surprise attack on the country. The militants also kidnapped more than 200 people.
The Hamas-controlled Gaza Health Ministry says Israeli forces have killed nearly 55,000 people in the enclave since Oct. 7. Karim Khan, the International Criminal Court’s chief prosecutor, has said Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar, who the IDF killed last October, are among those who have committed war crimes and crimes against humanity in Gaza and Israel.
Rouse upon his return to the U.S. said he “was never as aware of the comfort of another human being than I was during that time.” Rouse affectionately called Nathan his “bomb shelter boyfriend” and even questioned the way he reacted to the missile alerts.
“He’s sitting on the edge of the bed and he goes, okay, I’m going to put on my socks and my shoes, and I say, really? You’re going to put on your socks,” Rouse told the Blade.
“The fact that I was nervous, that putting on socks might have changed the direction of our lives, to me was like I can’t believe I said that to him.”
Rouse quickly added Nathan helped him remain calm.
“If I was by myself, those nights would have been long enough,” said Rouse. “It’s a totally different feeling to be with another human that you know than to be by yourself.”
Rouse also praised the Jewish Federations of North America.
“JFNA really sprung into action and started to figure out all options to get us all safely home,” said Rouse. “It was all about logistics. Staff worked around the clock identifying and then mobilizing to get us back to the states. It was a great team effort and I know I speak for everyone in expressing our deep appreciation for their dedication to getting us safely home.”
MARTY ROUSE, second from left, at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. (Photo courtesy of Rouse)
CHLOE SCHWENKE
is a professor at Georgetown University’s McCourt School of Public Policy.
USAID’s demise: America’s global betrayal of trust
Trump dismantled agency, undermining LGBTQ people everywhere
The U.S. Agency for International Development — proudly my institutional home for several years of my international development career and an American institutional global fixture since November 1961 — is no more.
How will USAID’s closure impact LGBTQI+ people around the world, especially in poor, struggling countries (“the Global South”)? Time will tell, but “dire,” “appalling,” and “shameful” are appropriate adjectives, given the massive increase in HIV/AIDS deaths that follow the callous, abrupt, and unspeakably cruel cut-off of funding for USAID’s health and humanitarian programming in HIV/AIDS prevention, treatment, and care.
Regarding LGBTQI+ people and issues, USAID worked in a tough neighborhood. In Africa alone, more than 30 countries in which USAID had programming still criminalize same-sex relationships, often to the point of imposing the death penalty. These fiercely anti-LGBTQI+ countries share harsh anti-LGBTQI+ punishments with most countries in the Middle East and North Africa. Other countries where USAID formerly worked retain colonial-era sodomy laws.
Where did USAID fit into all this turbulence? The agency was not allowed to transgress local laws, so how could it support the human rights of local LGBTQI+ people? USAID did so by building close and trusting relationships with local LGBTQI+ civil society, and by “superpower advocacy” for the universal human rights of all people, including those of us in the queer community.
I served at USAID’s Africa Bureau under the Obama administration, becoming the only openly transgender political appointee in USAID’s history. In that role, I was privileged to have a platform that caught the astounded attention of both queer people and of anti-LGBTQI+ governments around the world. If the president of the United States can elevate a transgender woman to such a senior position within the U.S. government, that open declaration of acceptance, inclusion, worth, and recognition set a precedent that many in the LGBTQI+ community worldwide hoped their countries would emulate.
Serving as an openly queer person at USAID also afforded me the opportunity to meet with many fiercely anti-LGBTQI+ senior politicians and government officials from African countries who sought USAID fund-
ing. Uganda’s first woman speaker of the parliament, Rebecca Alitwala Kadaga and her whole delegation came to see me at USAID in Washington about such funding. I had some very frank (and USAID-approved) “talking points” to share with her and her team about President Obama’s strong and secular commitment to equal human rights for all people. My tense meeting with her was also an opportunity to educate her as to the nature of the transgender, nonbinary, and intersex community — we who are simply classified and discriminated against as “gay” people in Uganda and in most countries in the Global South. I also had the chance to represent USAID in the “inter-agency” LGBTQI+ human rights task team led by gay U.S. Ambassador David Pressman, whose effective leadership of that Obama-era initiative was inspirational. Working closely with professional, capable, and caring USAID career employees such as Ajit Joshi and Anthony Cotton, and with the strong and open support of the USAID Deputy Administrator Don Steinberg, I helped to craft and promote USAID’s very first LGBTQI+ policy. Under President Obama, USAID also created the LGBT Global Development Partnership, a public-private partnership supporting LGBTQI+ civil society groups throughout the Global South. USAID funding also increased for programs promoting LGBTQI+ inclusion, anti-violence, and relevant human rights protections. This programming expanded further (albeit never adequately funded) during the Biden administration under the able leadership of USAID Senior LGBTQI+ Coordinator Jay Gilliam and his team.
So what did it all mean? Has USAID left a footprint for the global LGBTQI+ community? Will its absence matter?
In my view, that answer is an emphatic yes. International development and humanitarian response go to the heart of recognizing, respecting, and caring about universal human dignity. USAID converted those ethical commitments into tangible and meaningful action, again and again, and modelled for the world what it means to truly include all persons.
My time serving at USAID was a high point of my career, being surrounded by the best of American civil servants and foreign service officers. For me, “USAID Forever” remains my battle cry. Let’s start thinking of how we will rebuild it, beginning in three years.
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What if doctors could deny you insulin for being gay?
The Supreme Court just made that legal for trans kids
Imagine walking into a pharmacy, prescription in hand, and being told, “Sorry, we don’t give that to people like you.” Now imagine the government says that’s perfectly fine—as long as it’s wrapped in words like “concern” or “safety.”
That’s not a dystopian movie plot. That’s United States v. Skrmetti.
On June 18, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld Tennessee’s SB1, a state law that bans gender-affirming care for minors. Puberty blockers. Hormone therapy. All of it. Not because the treatments are dangerous (they’re not), or untested (they’re not), but because the kids receiving them are transgender.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t regulation. It’s targeted denial. And it just got the Supreme Court’s stamp of approval.
Chief Justice John Roberts, writing for the majority, said SB1 doesn’t discriminate. He argued the law merely regulates treatment based on “age and purpose.” That’s a little like banning seatbelts—but only for gay people—and claiming it’s about “safety.” Here’s the truth: SB1 bans hormone therapy only when it’s used for gender transition. Those same drugs are still allowed for other conditions. That’s not neutral. That’s surgical discrimination, written into law.
Even Tennessee’s legal team admitted it: the law “only affects those who seek to transition.” That’s not an accidental loophole. That’s the entire point.
Even worse, the Court ducked the bigger question: Do transgender Americans qualify as a “suspect class” under the Constitution—meaning they deserve stronger protections against discrimination?
Historically, groups with a long track record of discrimination, limited political power, and immutable traits (like race or religion) have gotten this status. Trans people check every box. Yet the Court said nothing.
That silence wasn’t a technicality. It was a political decision. A willful refusal to say: “You matter. You count. You’re protected here.”
Let’s drop the pretense. This isn’t about medicine or morality. Gender-affirming care is backed by every major U.S. medical association—from the American Academy of Pediatrics to the AMA. It’s safe. It’s effective. And it saves lives.
But these laws don’t ban puberty blockers across the board. They just ban them for trans kids.
That’s not policy—it’s punishment.
We wouldn’t tolerate a law that banned mammograms for women, or insulin for diabetics, only if they’re queer. But that’s exactly what this is: identity-based medical
apartheid.
Supporters claim it’s about protecting children. But you don’t protect kids by denying them care recommended by doctors and supported by science. You do that to control who they’re allowed to become.
Here’s the part that should make us all pause: Most Americans don’t agree with this decision. A recent Pew poll found that 64% of Americans support protections for transgender people. Nearly 60% support access to gender-affirming care. Among young adults, those numbers are even higher.
This isn’t a red state vs. blue state issue. It’s a basic civil rights question in the 21st century. The people are not divided. But our institutions—the courts, the legislatures— are lagging behind. Or worse, being weaponized.
This ruling leaves trans youth legally exposed and politically abandoned. But that doesn’t mean we’re powerless. Here’s what must happen now:
• State legislatures must pass ironclad non-discrimination laws that protect transgender youth where federal protections now fall short.
• Congress must pass the Equality Act—in full—and enshrine civil rights protections for LGBTQ+ Americans nationwide.
• The media must stop framing this as just another “culture war.” This isn’t about ideology. It’s about constitutional rights—access to care, bodily autonomy, and equal protection under the law.
• And we the people must act. Vote. Call your lawmakers. Tell your stories. Make it clear that civil rights don’t depend on your zip code, political party, or gender identity.
This moment is more than a court ruling. It’s a moral test for a country that claims to believe in liberty and justice for all.
You don’t have to be trans to be alarmed. If the state can deny medical care to one group based on identity, what’s to stop them from doing it to you? Your kid? Your neighbor?
History will remember where we stood. Let it remember this: we stood with trans kids and their parents. Loudly. Unapologetically. And without retreat.
Salina EsTitties and the power of the queer Latinx community
In this Los Angeles Blade exclusive interview, we chat with Salina EsTitties about the strength of the Latinx culture in the face of today’s political oppression and what we must do to remain strong
By ALEXANDER RODRIGUEZ
National audiences got to know Salina EsTitties during her run on season 15 of RuPaul’s Drag Race, but Angelenos have been witnesses to the star and activist power that is EsTitties for a decade. She’s not just a fierce entertainer, she’s also a leading voice in the queer, Latinx, drag, and sober communities.
This year, she was announced as the winner of L.A. Blade’s Best Drag Performer at our Best of L.A. Awards. She’s appeared in campaigns for Sephora, Pure for Men, Calvin Klein and more, partnering with numerous non-profit organizations that benefit the queer community and beyond. And yet somehow, she still has time to focus on her lucrative drag and music career.
Even with her continually rising star, she remains humble, down-to-earth and makes time to support events and movements that affect her communities.
This Thursday, she will join the Los Angeles Blade, Latino Media Collaborative and CALÓ News for Diálogo – Pride, Power & Progress, an intimate in-person gathering that brings together powerful voices at the intersection of journalism, identity and social impact.
EsTitties is a fierce believer in the power of the queer Latinx community in Los Angeles and knows firsthand the work that is being done.
“There are leaders in the community that people don’t even realize are out there, going to work for the community, for us as a whole and not just Latinos, but for queer people in general, like trans and trans youth,” she said in an interview with L.A. Blade. “When you go to any function that is a Latino function, there are people who are actually in the streets doing the work.”
EsTitties is all too familiar with the struggles that the organizations she supports are going through, especially as the current administration continues to restrict resources.
“There are people losing jobs who are doing this good work. The leaders of the Latin community are the ones out there in the streets who are actually helping the community,” she continued. “They’re my heroes at the end of the day because it’s those kinds of people who helped me when I was 19, 20 years old, running the streets, homeless, on drugs. They were there for me at those times and their resources provided me with a life that I have today beyond my wildest dreams. I get to twirl around in a wig, you know, but they’re the ones who are out there saving the world.”
EsTitties is also changing the Latinx culture from within. Her presence as a drag queen and a queer (as she puts it) cholo, challenges the machismo norms that are expected of men, changing the narrative of through representation. Her work is a direct result of her early experience.
“It was such a struggle for me in the beginning, especially when I started drag when I was 23. I was so insecure and so hyper-fixated on the masculinity of it all. So I cut my hair off
and I quit drag,” said EsTitties, adding that she then landed a job at In-N-Out. “The machismo of it all is something that I grew up with, especially growing up in the hood. I had to acclimate — oversized white tee, baggy blue jeans and Air Force [shoes]. That was the vibe — no color, no queerness, no nothing. I had to present as much as I could to not stand out so I wouldn’t get picked on. Internalized homophobia is very real and toxic masculinity is very real inside of me.”
Eventually, EsTitties did return to drag and it gave her confidence and the voice she now uses to fight for her communities. Over the years, drag taught her how to combine both her masculine and feminine traits in a way that was real for her, embracing her full identity. From her vantage point, she views machismo differently now.
“I’m attracted to masculinity. I don’t think it’s something we have to demonize or villainize, it’s about not making it greater than. I think we’re all equal, I think everyone has all shades of the rainbow, right? I can be feminine, I can be masculine, I can present feminine and still be butch as fuck. It’s all sexy at the end of the day, but I think confidence is where you use it for good as opposed to evil.”
The queer voice in the Latinx community grows stronger every day. Younger generations are gaining the courage to be themselves, not worried about the pressures of conforming. EsTitties says that queer people have always been visible in the community and gives credit to the women of the family — the tias, the mothers, the grandmothers — for showing unconditional love and fostering a vibrant queer community.
As EsTitties prepares to join an impressive panel for Diálogo for a conversation that explores the evolving land-
scape of Latinx journalism and its vital role in advancing equity, representation and social change, she believes that talk of immigration and the current U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids be at the forefront of any queer, Latinx talk.
“The reality is that I’m sure you know someone, who knows someone who’s undocumented, but there’s a big stigma around that. We’ve heard it from our President that [undocumented immigrants] are rapists, drug dealers. That’s not the truth,” said EsTitties. “My mom came here, undocumented, got her citizenship, then did everything that she needed to do after the fact. And if it wasn’t for my mom doing those things, I wouldn’t be here for it. I am still learning how to navigate it all. This is a conversation that’s very taboo and people just like to pretend it doesn’t exist. But it’s a very real thing that we’re watching in real time.”
EsTitties stressed the importance of the queer community being involved in these conversations because they are issues that affect communities that intersect with other marginalized communities that are particularly vulnerable right now, such as the undocumented immigrant community.
“At the end of the day, we’re human beings. No one should be treated the way that they’re treating human beings right now. Seeing what’s going on right now with ICE is so scary. I know people who are afraid to leave their homes. I have friends who are dyeing their hair a different color every day, so they seem less brown. I have friends who are covering up their tattoos because they think they’re looking for them. People are paranoid and scared right now.”
EsTitties knows that stigma and racism exist even within our own community. That is a reason she works so hard at being visible and active.
“[We need to have a] conversation of just knowing that we Latinos and queer Latinos are not less than our white counterparts. We see white gays running the world, baby. I just hope that I can be one of those people who is like: ‘I’m going to do it regardless of whether you think I can or not, whether you’re rooting for me or not.’”
EsTitties says that in her experience, the queer, Latinx community is often “the butt of the joke a lot of the time.” She says that her communities often have to work ten times harder to get places.
“We’re having to fight a lot of stigma, fight a lot of prejudice, but the thing with Latinos is that we don’t let that weakness show. That confidence and strength, and our passion and our fire, that’s what continues to keep us here and moving. So I think we lean in and continue to be unapologetic, and I think just be a little louder, especially right now.”
Join EsTitties and the Los Angeles Blade for Diálogo, Thursday, June 26th at 6 pm at The Abbey. The event is free; RSVP at https://www.latinomedia.org/pride-month.
(Image courtesy of Salina EsTitties)
How this Texas drag king reclaimed their identity
Chicano performance art serves as inspiration
By GISSELLE PALOMERA
Three out of ten drag kings who were cast for this first season of King of Drag self-identified as Latinx and after episode two, only one Latinx king remains in the running for the competition.
Buck Wylde, a king from Dallas, Texas delivered a performance that took inspiration from their Catholic upbringing and Catholic school days to put together this persona. During the episode, they shared that they like to “play with religion.”
Murray Hill responded by adding, “sometimes we can’t afford to go to therapy for the Catholic guilt, so we do drag.” Buck Wylde says their therapy and their church is drag.
Buck Wylde, cancer sign, goes by Trigger Mortis when they are outside of drag and present more on the femme side. Along with Big D—another drag king on the series—they are the only two who are more femme outside of their drag persona.
During this episode, Buck Wylde also spoke about the difficulty of performing drag in a red state. They live in conservative Dallas, so they still struggle to find large-scale acceptance and support in the midst of statewide legislation targeting the LGBTQ community in Texas.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel [as] safe as [I] would like it to be. There’s protesters all the time and we don’t have as many spaces to perform as kings there,” they said in the interview.
Buck Wylde says that for them, the most important thing about drag, is that it is and always has been a protest.
Spanish is not fluent, they say they do prefer their horchata without (ICE).
“I kind of straddled different worlds there, because I was sort of assimilated but I still had my Mexican culture. I always felt like I wasn’t connected enough because of the assimilation and it was through drag that I was able to reclaim my culture.”
In the first round of competitions for the second episode, the kings broke up into three teams of three for an improv skit where they would have to mansplain a topic and whichever team did it the best—won the group Weenie Challenge.
The winning team included Buck Wylde, Alexander the Great and Henlo Bullfrog. Together they improvised a skit where they mansplained the Amelia Earhart story.
Living in a conservative state is a challenge to them as a drag king, but they say that it’s important for them to stand their ground and not only bring that representation to these areas, but also intentionally keep it there.
“So many people leave Texas for their safety and mental health to go to Portland, LA, or Colorado Springs or you know, anywhere but here.”
During the episode, Buck Wylde also opened up about how their religious background and cultural heritage added an extra layer to their identity issues growing up where they did. Their family wanted them to assimilate and even prevented them from speaking Spanish and they say that through Buck, they are able to re-examine what it means to be a part of that culture.
Buck Wylde is a third generation Mexican-American and they say that though their
For the solo show, they dressed up as ‘The Devil’ for the improv solo challenge, cracking a joke about how they are dressed like the person currently living in The White House.
Dressed as the Devil, sporting a Zoot Suit for the final competition, Buck Wylde improvised a skit with food.
Buck Wylde says they felt the pressure to perform because along with the other nine kings who were cast, they are the first ten kings to make it to the mainstream and represent king culture.
“We call ourselves the first ten because whatever happens, we’re responsible for how the kings are viewed and how we move forward together, being the blueprint for what’s to come,” said Buck Wylde in an exclusive interview with Los Angeles Blade.
Back stage before the solo improv competition, Buck Wylde says they felt their drag persona “crumbling” away.
They felt like Buck had abandoned them prior to their big moments to prove to the judges that they should stay in the running for the competition. They went up against Perka $exxx, who gave a king-based Dave Chappell performance.
In the end, it was Perka $exxx who received a 4-1 vote from the judges.
Buck Wylde left the show with some advice for the kings and the audience: “No matter what life throws at you, always remember who the Buck you are.”
King of Drag is now available to stream on RevryTV, an LGBTQ streaming platform for queer movies, TV shows, music and more — all for free. New King of Drag episodes will premiere weekly on Sundays.
Geffen Playhouse’s The Reservoir finds queer humor and joy in recovery and loss Jake Brasch’s electrifying debut mines his own life for intergenerational drama
By ROB SALERNO
What do you get when you combine an alcoholic twink, a mother at the end of her patience, and a set of grandparents (nearing) the end of their wits?
In the Geffen Playhouse’s production of Jake Brasch’s new semi-autobiographical play The Reservoir, you get a stunning and hilarious drama about recovery and intergenerational connection.
As the play opens, we meet Brasch’s stand-in Josh (Jake Horowitz) in a deeply unflattering circumstance. He’s awoken in the park where he’s passed out drunk, having just returned home to Colorado after taking a medical leave from theatre school in New York due to his alcoholism. His mother, played by Emmy nominee Marin Hinkle (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel), begrudgingly takes him in on the condition he stays clean and holds down the job she arranges for him at the local book co-op.
Josh then finds himself spending more and more time with all four of his grandparents, at first in an effort to find sympathy that’s in short supply at home, but then in a –sometimes misguided effort to halt their cognitive declines due to aging and Alzheimer’s disease. The project of helping his grandparents build their “cognitive reservoirs” through memory games, trivia, storytelling – and in one hilarious runner, preparation for a late-in-life bar mitzvah – helps distract Josh from his own disease for a time but exasperates his entire family.
Cognitive reserve is a real theory about how the brain can withstand and recover from trauma, betraying the play’s origin as a commission by the Sloan Foundation, which seeks to make connections between science and theatre. But in Brasch’s hands, the science of memory becomes exhilarating and real.
“I started from there, and I was just desperately looking for a pitch for [Sloan]. And then I kind of realized, oh shit, I’m writing about my grandparents, and the year that I moved home to get sober and reconnected with them and found an allegiance with them around the fact that we were foggy, we were all sort of in this space of not knowing, not remembering, and wanting to hold on,” Brasch says.
But while recovery and loss are weighty matters, Brasch, a recent Julliard graduate (spoiler, sorry) who s making his professional playwrighting debut, finds lots of surprising laughs.
“That’s been a dance with this play,” he says. “This took me a while to learn but it’s about not letting the audience settle into one or the other. As soon as the drama feels like, ‘Oh my God, this is too much,’ we get a big joke. As soon as we feel like this is a sick comedy, we get absolutely knocked over. And I think that is my experience of what it feels like to be in crisis.”
That comedic touch helps deliver a key theme of the show, which is that recovery – both from addiction and loss – is actually a joyous process.
“Oftentimes people think that getting sober is going to mean that their humor and joy and partying is taken away
from you. In my experience, it has been quite the opposite and learning to laugh at what’s hard in life has been my saving grace,” Brasch says.
“And specifically with Alzheimer’s, the things that one can do to protect themselves against this disease that we know so little about are just the things that one can do to leave a happy life, right?”
Brasch also finds a fresh angle on the strife between a young gay man and his family by focusing the story on the relationship between Josh and his grandparents. The play provides meaty roles for all four elders, including Carolyn Mignini and Geoffrey Wade as the Christian grandparents who are loving but still uncomfortable about their grandson’s queerness, Lee Wilkoff as the fun-loving grandfather who sometimes overshares in his efforts to preserve his fading memory, and Liz Larsen as the sage who deals in tough love.
“In trying to write something that’s intergenerational… this is sort of my attempt to try to bring a new audience into the theater at the same time that I created a play in which the existing audience feel seen,” Brasch says.
Placing older characters at the heart of the show also helps more conservative audience members swallow the show’s queer themes and storytelling elements.
“I think they’ve overlooked a lot of things that they might not. Otherwise, the play has a lot of profanity in it. It doesn’t follow naturalistic play rules. It’s extremely shaggy and weird and is not staged conventionally and folks have gone with it,” he says.
Centering elders isn’t just a strategy to flatter the subscriber base, though. Brasch is effusive in describing how his genuine connections with his grandparents has enriched his life.
Call your grandma if she’s still around,” he says. “Make those intergenerational connections because I am so grateful that late in the game, I made them and was able to glean so much wisdom and have fun. And God knows, we need intergenerational mutual understanding in today’s day and age.”
The Reservoir plays at the Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Avenue Los Angeles, CA, 90012, through July 20. Tickets at www.geffenplayhouse.org/
The cast of ‘The Reservoir’
Intuitive Shana gives us her hot take for July’s tarot reading
Our tarot reader tells us what we needed to hear as we wrap up Pride month and enter July
By INTUITIVE SHANA
July is here, we are in the throes of summer and we are swimming in the mingling energy of chaos, sex, personal power.
July may be a lot of things and with the way this year is going, I can promise you it is. It is definitely a month steeped in passion, romance and sex. For those of you in relationships, you will find the heat and sense of adventure turning up in the bedroom. Now would be the time to reevaluate your wants, needs and boundaries and to articulate them in a way that is clear and comfortable. Your partner may be booming in the bedroom, but sometimes all that passion drowns out common sense and we don’t need boundaries trampled or feelings hurt. So use your words and you will receive fantasy-like pleasure.
For the folks that aren’t coupled up, the Universe is asking for your heart’s desire. Do you want a relationship, a bed fellow, or a sugar daddy? There are no wrong answers and all of it is on the menu.
My warning to you is: be very clear and
very careful what you wish for. The Universe has jokes that no one thinks is funny. You don’t want your love life to be the butt of a cosmic joke. Whisper your desire to the full moon while burning rose incense, carry Rose Quartz with you, or do a full on Come-To-Me spell. The magical choice is yours, just make sure you have written down your desires and requirements before wishing your next person of interest into existence.
June showed us the power and strength of the Los Angeles community as a whole. Pride brought the queer community together in celebration, visibility, authenticity, love and our ongoing fight for equality.
We took that energy from the Pride parades and marches to the streets of DTLA and all over the greater L.A. area to protest the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids and show up for the ‘No Kings Day’ protests on Saturday, June 14. We came together to lend our voices to larger causes and in return we see where our voices and energy landed and made its impact.
The message for July is to remember the camaraderie and chaos that we collectively produced and experienced during Pride month and see how that energy can be further harnessed to care for and protect our community in other moments. We are being told to remember in what ways we can hold space and care for ourselves and others around us and the importance in even the smallest act of love and defiance. Find your place within your community and hold strong to it.
Lend your energy, power and love to your cause and to those around you that are looking for your support this month. These acts
Can you really find true love in LA?
don’t have to be huge. Sometimes a late night phone call or brunch with inspired, like-minded babes is a radical action. Lean on to the magical help of a High John root tucked into your bag or pocket to help give you strength even when you feel like you are facing the impossible, or dab some Dragon’s Blood oil on your pulse points to help put some fire in your roar.
Our closing message for the month of July is to slow down and not over think.
The world may be going crazy right now but the planets are shifting into a space to allow things in your personal world to look up. This leaves a lot of room to over think the potential political gloom we are all swimming in or to get lost in the manic clouds of new love and artistic projects. Try and set aside time daily, even if it is only 10 minutes, to be present minded and detach from the wonderland that is your internal dialog. When we begin to silence our minds we are able to let our spirit and body connect in a way that is rare during the busy times of our lives.
Insights from
a
queer matchmaker
Find out how to get past the obstacles of queer dating in LA from our expert matchmaker
By DANIEL COOLEY
As a matchmaker who’s supported thousands of gay, bi, queer and trans people nationwide, I can say with confidence that this city is full of options, but few are looking for something serious.
The swiping culture and the constant search for “the next best thing,” paired with the fast-paced, image-focused energy of L.A. can make finding a genuine, grounded connection feel nearly impossible.
That being said, for those of us who are ready for committed relationships, there’s loads of opportunity. Let me share a few tips on how to best capture the love you’re looking for.
Everyone says they want love, but are they ready for it?
Saying you want a relationship and being ready for one are two very different things. A lot of people in our community don’t get to date openly when they are younger. Many of my clients—typically between 30 and 60—came out later in life. They didn’t get to be queer teenagers or young adults in love. So now, in places like West Holly-
wood, they’re finally living out that chapter. What that means is that a lot of emotional maturity happens “later”. Some are still exploring, experimenting and trying to figure themselves out and what they seek in a life partner. And while there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this path, it does make it harder for those who are ready to settle down to find someone on the same page. What to do? Be crystal clear on dates and on dating apps. If your intention is longterm commitment, be upfront. If you’d like to date and see what’s out there, share that. As a matchmaker, I deeply believe this there’s someone out there for everyone.
The Culture of Constant Options
Los Angeles is a city of abundance and in the dating world, that’s not always such a good thing. With endless apps, parties and pretty faces, there’s always the temptation to keep looking, keep swiping, keep chasing. I hear it all the time: “he was great, but what if there’s someone even better?” That mindset sabotages so many real connections before they even have the chance to
grow.
How to overcome this?
Get intentional. Ask friends to set you up. Tell people at work that you’re ready to settle down. Edit your app profile to say you’re looking for commitment. Weed out the men who aren’t aligned with what you ultimately want.
The rise of speed dating and matchmaking
Since the COVID-19 pandemic began, interest in speed dating events have surged. People are craving real-life, organic connections again, but they’re burned out by dating apps due to ghosting, fake profiles and endless small talk that goes seemingly nowhere.
For men in their 50s, 60s, and 70s, online dating can feel downright hopeless. Many have been catfished, misled, or targeted by people who just want financial support and it’s heartbreaking. These men want something real—a partner, a teammate, a best friend. Speed dating and matchmaking services typically single out (pun intended)
those ready for a relationship. Be sure to consider getting offline and meeting someone through these methods.
Dating in LA is not hopeless—it’s just complicated. But with the right mindset and sometimes the right support, real love is possible.
Daniel Cooley, LGBTQ+ Matchmaker & Co-owner of Best Man Matchmaking – California’s premier service for queer and trans men seeking emotional connections.
