News
Obama includes gay rights in Mandela speech
President says people are still persecuted for ‘who they love’ around the world

President Obama delivers a speech on Nelson Mandela in a memorial service in South Africa (Screenshot courtesy YouTube).
President Obama made a veiled reference to the struggle for gay rights across the world in his speech at the memorial service in South Africa honoring the life of the Nelson Mandela.
Obama made the reference to gay rights — saying people around the world are still persecuted for “who they love” — when making a generalized statement about the struggle for equality in which Mandela led the way in South Africa.
“The struggles that follow the victory of formal equality or universal franchise may not be as filled with drama and moral clarity as those that came before, but they are no less important,” Obama said. “For around the world today, we still see children suffering from hunger and disease. We still see run-down schools. We still see young people without prospects for the future. Around the world today, men and women are still imprisoned for their political beliefs, and are still persecuted for what they look like, and how they worship, and who they love. That is happening today.”
In remarks delivered at First National Bank Stadium on a rainy day in Johannesburg, South Africa, Obama commemorated Nelson, who worked to end apartheid in the country. After being imprisoned for 27 years, Nelson entered negotiations to achieve that goal and became the first South African elected in a fully representative democratic election.
In his 15-minute speech, Obama said Mandela served as an inspiration in part because his willingness to admit imperfection encouraged others to make similar endeavors in pursuit of equality.
“For nothing he achieved was inevitable,” Obama said. “In the arc of his life, we see a man who earned his place in history through struggle and shrewdness, and persistence and faith. He tells us what is possible not just in the pages of history books, but in our own lives as well.”
According to a pool report, Obama received a big roar from the crowd when he concluded his remarks. In addition to shouting and applause, the sound of the horn made famous during the World Cup, the Vuvuzela, filled the stadium. As Obama walked away from the stage, people rushed through the stands to see him.
Upon the news of his death, LGBT rights advocates praised the legacy of Mandela, saying he helped inspire them to achieve equality for LGBT people. Under the leadership of Mandela, South Africa became the first country in the world to add a ban on discrimination based on sexual orientation into its constitution.
Also in attendance for the memorial service were first lady Michelle Obama, former President George W. Bush, former President Bill Clinton and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. President Obama made headlines by shaking the hand of Cuban President Raul Castro, who also in the audience.
Read Obama’s full remarks as provided by the White House here:
THE WHITE HOUSE
Office of the Press Secretary
December 10, 2013
REMARKS BY PRESIDENT OBAMA
AT MEMORIAL SERVICE FOR FORMER SOUTH AFRICAN
PRESIDENT NELSON MANDELA
First National Bank Stadium
Johannesburg, South Africa
1:31 P.M. SAST
PRESIDENT OBAMA: Thank you. (Applause.) Thank you so much. Thank you. To Graça Machel and the Mandela family; to President Zuma and members of the government; to heads of states and government, past and present; distinguished guests — it is a singular honor to be with you today, to celebrate a life like no other. To the people of South Africa — (applause) — people of every race and walk of life — the world thanks you for sharing Nelson Mandela with us. His struggle was your struggle. His triumph was your triumph. Your dignity and your hope found expression in his life. And your freedom, your democracy is his cherished legacy.
It is hard to eulogize any man — to capture in words not just the facts and the dates that make a life, but the essential truth of a person — their private joys and sorrows; the quiet moments and unique qualities that illuminate someone’s soul. How much harder to do so for a giant of history, who moved a nation toward justice, and in the process moved billions around the world.
Born during World War I, far from the corridors of power, a boy raised herding cattle and tutored by the elders of his Thembu tribe, Madiba would emerge as the last great liberator of the 20th century. Like Gandhi, he would lead a resistance movement — a movement that at its start had little prospect for success. Like Dr. King, he would give potent voice to the claims of the oppressed and the moral necessity of racial justice. He would endure a brutal imprisonment that began in the time of Kennedy and Khrushchev, and reached the final days of the Cold War. Emerging from prison, without the force of arms, he would — like Abraham Lincoln — hold his country together when it threatened to break apart. And like America’s Founding Fathers, he would erect a constitutional order to preserve freedom for future generations — a commitment to democracy and rule of law ratified not only by his election, but by his willingness to step down from power after only one term.
Given the sweep of his life, the scope of his accomplishments, the adoration that he so rightly earned, it’s tempting I think to remember Nelson Mandela as an icon, smiling and serene, detached from the tawdry affairs of lesser men. But Madiba himself strongly resisted such a lifeless portrait. (Applause.) Instead, Madiba insisted on sharing with us his doubts and his fears; his miscalculations along with his victories. “I am not a saint,” he said, “unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.”
It was precisely because he could admit to imperfection — because he could be so full of good humor, even mischief, despite the heavy burdens he carried — that we loved him so. He was not a bust made of marble; he was a man of flesh and blood — a son and a husband, a father and a friend. And that’s why we learned so much from him, and that’s why we can learn from him still. For nothing he achieved was inevitable. In the arc of his life, we see a man who earned his place in history through struggle and shrewdness, and persistence and faith. He tells us what is possible not just in the pages of history books, but in our own lives as well.
Mandela showed us the power of action; of taking risks on behalf of our ideals. Perhaps Madiba was right that he inherited, “a proud rebelliousness, a stubborn sense of fairness” from his father. And we know he shared with millions of black and colored South Africans the anger born of, “a thousand slights, a thousand indignities, a thousand unremembered moments…a desire to fight the system that imprisoned my people,” he said.
But like other early giants of the ANC — the Sisulus and Tambos — Madiba disciplined his anger and channeled his desire to fight into organization, and platforms, and strategies for action, so men and women could stand up for their God-given dignity. Moreover, he accepted the consequences of his actions, knowing that standing up to powerful interests and injustice carries a price. “I have fought against white domination and I have fought against black domination. I’ve cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and [with] equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.” (Applause.)
Mandela taught us the power of action, but he also taught us the power of ideas; the importance of reason and arguments; the need to study not only those who you agree with, but also those who you don’t agree with. He understood that ideas cannot be contained by prison walls, or extinguished by a sniper’s bullet. He turned his trial into an indictment of apartheid because of his eloquence and his passion, but also because of his training as an advocate. He used decades in prison to sharpen his arguments, but also to spread his thirst for knowledge to others in the movement. And he learned the language and the customs of his oppressor so that one day he might better convey to them how their own freedom depend upon his. (Applause.)
Mandela demonstrated that action and ideas are not enough. No matter how right, they must be chiseled into law and institutions. He was practical, testing his beliefs against the hard surface of circumstance and history. On core principles he was unyielding, which is why he could rebuff offers of unconditional release, reminding the Apartheid regime that “prisoners cannot enter into contracts.”
But as he showed in painstaking negotiations to transfer power and draft new laws, he was not afraid to compromise for the sake of a larger goal. And because he was not only a leader of a movement but a skillful politician, the Constitution that emerged was worthy of this multiracial democracy, true to his vision of laws that protect minority as well as majority rights, and the precious freedoms of every South African.
And finally, Mandela understood the ties that bind the human spirit. There is a word in South Africa — Ubuntu — (applause) — a word that captures Mandela’s greatest gift: his recognition that we are all bound together in ways that are invisible to the eye; that there is a oneness to humanity; that we achieve ourselves by sharing ourselves with others, and caring for those around us.
We can never know how much of this sense was innate in him, or how much was shaped in a dark and solitary cell. But we remember the gestures, large and small — introducing his jailers as honored guests at his inauguration; taking a pitch in a Springbok uniform; turning his family’s heartbreak into a call to confront HIV/AIDS — that revealed the depth of his empathy and his understanding. He not only embodied Ubuntu, he taught millions to find that truth within themselves.
It took a man like Madiba to free not just the prisoner, but the jailer as well — (applause) — to show that you must trust others so that they may trust you; to teach that reconciliation is not a matter of ignoring a cruel past, but a means of confronting it with inclusion and generosity and truth. He changed laws, but he also changed hearts.
For the people of South Africa, for those he inspired around the globe, Madiba’s passing is rightly a time of mourning, and a time to celebrate a heroic life. But I believe it should also prompt in each of us a time for self-reflection. With honesty, regardless of our station or our circumstance, we must ask: How well have I applied his lessons in my own life? It’s a question I ask myself, as a man and as a President.
We know that, like South Africa, the United States had to overcome centuries of racial subjugation. As was true here, it took sacrifice — the sacrifice of countless people, known and unknown, to see the dawn of a new day. Michelle and I are beneficiaries of that struggle. (Applause.) But in America, and in South Africa, and in countries all around the globe, we cannot allow our progress to cloud the fact that our work is not yet done.
The struggles that follow the victory of formal equality or universal franchise may not be as filled with drama and moral clarity as those that came before, but they are no less important. For around the world today, we still see children suffering from hunger and disease. We still see run-down schools. We still see young people without prospects for the future. Around the world today, men and women are still imprisoned for their political beliefs, and are still persecuted for what they look like, and how they worship, and who they love. That is happening today. (Applause.)
And so we, too, must act on behalf of justice. We, too, must act on behalf of peace. There are too many people who happily embrace Madiba’s legacy of racial reconciliation, but passionately resist even modest reforms that would challenge chronic poverty and growing inequality. There are too many leaders who claim solidarity with Madiba’s struggle for freedom, but do not tolerate dissent from their own people. (Applause.) And there are too many of us on the sidelines, comfortable in complacency or cynicism when our voices must be heard.
The questions we face today — how to promote equality and justice; how to uphold freedom and human rights; how to end conflict and sectarian war — these things do not have easy answers. But there were no easy answers in front of that child born in World War I. Nelson Mandela reminds us that it always seems impossible until it is done. South Africa shows that is true. South Africa shows we can change, that we can choose a world defined not by our differences, but by our common hopes. We can choose a world defined not by conflict, but by peace and justice and opportunity.
We will never see the likes of Nelson Mandela again. But let me say to the young people of Africa and the young people around the world — you, too, can make his life’s work your own. Over 30 years ago, while still a student, I learned of Nelson Mandela and the struggles taking place in this beautiful land, and it stirred something in me. It woke me up to my responsibilities to others and to myself, and it set me on an improbable journey that finds me here today. And while I will always fall short of Madiba’s example, he makes me want to be a better man. (Applause.) He speaks to what’s best inside us.
After this great liberator is laid to rest, and when we have returned to our cities and villages and rejoined our daily routines, let us search for his strength. Let us search for his largeness of spirit somewhere inside of ourselves. And when the night grows dark, when injustice weighs heavy on our hearts, when our best-laid plans seem beyond our reach, let us think of Madiba and the words that brought him comfort within the four walls of his cell: “It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.”
What a magnificent soul it was. We will miss him deeply. May God bless the memory of Nelson Mandela. May God bless the people of South Africa. (Applause.)
END 1:50 P.M. SAST
Federal Government
Top Democrats reintroduce bill to investigate discrimination against LGBTQ military members
Takano, Jacobs, and Blumenthal sponsored measure
Multiple high-ranking members of Congress reintroduced the Commission on Equity and Reconciliation in the Uniformed Services Act into the U.S. House of Representatives and the U.S. Senate, aiming to establish a commission to investigate discriminatory policies targeting LGBTQ military members.
Three leading Democratic members of Congress — U.S. Rep. Mark Takano (D-Calif.), who is the House Veterans’ Affairs Committee’s ranking member and chairs the Congressional Equality Caucus; U.S. Sen. Richard Blumenthal (D-Conn.), who is the Senate Veterans’ Affairs Committee’s ranking member; and U.S. Rep. Sara Jacobs (D-Calif.) — introduced the bill on Tuesday.
The bill, they say, would establish a commission to investigate the historic and ongoing impacts of discriminatory military policies on LGBTQ servicemembers and veterans.
This comes on the one-year anniversary of the Trump-Vance administration’s 2025 Executive Order 14183, titled “Prioritizing Military Excellence and Readiness,” which essentially banned transgender servicemembers from openly serving in the Armed Forces, leading to the forced separation of thousands of capable and dedicated servicemembers.
In a joint statement, Takano, Blumenthal, and Jacobs shared statistics on how many service members have had their ability to serve revoked due to their sexual orientation:
“Approximately 114,000 servicemembers were discharged on the basis of their sexual orientation between WWII and 2011, while an estimated 870,000 LGBTQ servicemembers have been impacted by hostility, harassment, assault, and law enforcement targeting due to the military policies in place,” the press release reads. “These separations are devastating and have long-reaching impacts. Veterans who were discharged on discriminatory grounds are unable to access their benefits, and under the Trump administration, LGBTQ+ veterans and servicemembers have been openly persecuted.”
The proposed commission is modeled after the Congressional commission that investigated and secured redress for Japanese Americans interned during World War II. Takano’s family was among the more than 82,000 Japanese Americans who received an official apology and redress payment under that commission.
The press release notes this is a major inspiration for the act.
“Qualified servicemembers were hunted down and forced to leave the military at the direction of our government,” said Takano. “These practices have continued, now with our government targeting transgender servicemembers. The forced separation and dishonorable discharges LGBTQ+ people received must be rectified, benefits fully granted, and dignity restored to those who have protected our freedoms.”
“LGBTQ+ servicemembers have long been the target of dangerous and discriminatory policies—resulting in harassment, involuntary discharge, and barriers to their earned benefits,” said Blumenthal. “Establishing this commission is an important step to understand the full scope of harm and address the damage caused by policies like ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.’ As LGBTQ+ servicemembers and veterans face repugnant and blatant bigotry under the Trump administration, we will keep fighting to secure a more equitable future for all who serve our country in uniform.”
“Instead of righting wrongs and making amends to our LGBTQ+ service members and veterans who’ve suffered injustices for decades, I’m ashamed that the Trump administration has doubled down: kicking trans folks out of the military and banning their enlistment,” said Jacobs. “We know that LGBTQ+ service members and veterans have faced so much ugliness — discrimination, harassment, professional setbacks, and even violence — that has led to unjust discharges and disparities in benefits, but we still don’t have a full picture of all the harm caused. That needs to change. That’s why I’m proud to co-lead this bill to investigate these harms, address the impacts of discriminatory official policies like ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ and the transgender military ban, and ensure equity and justice for our LGBTQ+ service members and veterans.”
Takano and Jacobs are leading the bill in the House, while Blumenthal is introducing companion legislation in the Senate.
Takano’s office has profiled and interviewed LGBTQ servicemembers who were harmed by discriminatory policies in the uniformed services.
The Commission on Equity and Reconciliation in the Uniformed Services Act is supported by Minority Veterans of America, Human Rights Campaign, Equality California, SPARTA, and the Transgender American Veterans Association.
In recent weeks, thousands of trans military members were forcibly put into retirement as a result of Trump’s executive order, including five honored by the Human Rights Campaign with a combined 100 years of service, all due to their gender identity: Col. Bree B. Fram (U.S. Space Force), Commander Blake Dremann (U.S. Navy), Lt. Col. (Ret.) Erin Krizek (U.S. Air Force), Chief Petty Officer (Ret.) Jaida McGuire (U.S. Coast Guard), and Sgt. First Class (Ret.) Catherine Schmid (U.S. Army).
Multiple career service members spoke at the ceremony, including Takano. Among the speakers was Frank Kendall III, the 26th U.S. Air Force secretary, who said:
“We are in a moment of crisis that will be worse before it is better. Members of my father’s and mother’s generation would ask each other a question: what did you do during the war? Someday we will all be asked what we did during this time. Please think about the answer that you will give.”
Virginia
From the Pentagon to politics, Bree Fram fighting for LGBTQ rights
Transgender veteran running for Congress in Va.
After being ousted from military service, Col. Bree Fram — once the highest-ranking openly transgender officer in the Pentagon — is now running for Congress.
Fram, who lives in Reston, Va., brings more than two decades of public service to her campaign. From the battlefield to the halls of the Pentagon, she spent more than 20 years working inside the federal government, often advocating for LGBTQ people and other marginalized communities from within the system.
Fram spoke with the Washington Blade about her decision to run amid sustained attacks against her — and against the LGBTQ community more broadly — from the Trump-Vance administration and far-right officials.
She said her commitment to public service began more than 22 years ago, shaped in large part by watching the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.
“I had grown up expecting that there was this beautiful American peace stretching into the world for the foreseeable future, and that kind of image was shattered,” Fram told the Blade. “I realized that there was a continuous price to be paid to protect our democracy, to protect our freedoms. To be able to play a small part in defending those freedoms was incredibly important to me — to be part of something larger than myself.”

Commissioned through the U.S. Air Force Officer Training School in 2003, Fram served as an astronautical engineer and rose to the rank of colonel in the U.S. Air Force before later serving in the U.S. Space Force. She remained on active duty until 2025, when she was forced out following the Trump-Vance administration’s reinstated ban on trans military service.
Fram has been married for 20 years to her spouse, Peg Fram, and they have two children.
Beyond her military service, Fram has long been involved in advocacy and leadership. She has been a member of SPARTA, a trans military advocacy organization, since 2014, served on its board of directors beginning in 2018, and was president of the organization from 2021-2023.
Most recently, Fram served as chief of the Requirements Integration Division at Headquarters, Space Force, and as co-lead of the Joint Space Requirements Integration Cell in collaboration with the Joint Staff. Previously, she was chief of the Acquisition Policies and Processes Division for the assistant secretary of the Air Force for space acquisition and integration.
Earlier in her career, Fram served as a materiel leader at the Air Force Research Laboratory, overseeing the development of counter-small unmanned aerial systems and offensive cyberspace technologies in support of Pentagon and intelligence community priorities, managing an annual budget exceeding $100 million.
Her previous assignments also included oversight of Air Force security cooperation in four strategically significant Middle Eastern countries and 258 foreign military sales cases valued at $15.79 billion; serving as executive officer to the Air Force director of strategic plans, where she helped integrate the 30-year, $3.6 trillion Air Force Plan; a legislative fellowship on Capitol Hill with then-U.S. Del. Madeleine Bordallo (D-Guam), handling military, veterans, and foreign affairs issues; and a program management role at the National Reconnaissance Office, where she led a $700 million multi-agency engineering and IT contract overseeing more than 500 personnel and supporting $40 billion in assets.
Fram also directed 24/7 worldwide operations and maintenance of mission data processing for space-based and airborne national intelligence assets and co-led the Department of the Air Force’s LGBTQ+ Initiatives Team and Barrier Analysis Working Group from 2023-2025.
She holds a master’s degree from the Air Force Institute of Technology and is a distinguished graduate of the Naval War College. Fram deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom, where she worked on airborne counter-improvised explosive device technologies.
In January, Fram, alongside four other trans military officers, was given a special retirement ceremony by the Human Rights Campaign — a direct result of President Donald Trump’s 2025 Executive Order 14183, titled “Prioritizing Military Excellence and Readiness.” The policy directed the Pentagon to adopt measures prohibiting trans, nonbinary, and gender-nonconforming people from serving in the military.
Under Virginia’s current congressional maps, Fram would challenge Congressman James Walkinshaw in a Democratic primary in the 11th Congressional District, which includes the city of Fairfax and most of Fairfax County. However, the district’s boundaries could change pending ongoing redistricting discussions in the state.
Fram emphasized that her decades working within the executive branch shaped her understanding of what it means to take — and uphold — an oath to the Constitution, even when those in power later forced her out of service solely because of her identity, not her performance.
“Through 23 years of service, I learned what it meant to fulfill that oath to the Constitution, and I wanted to continue serving,” she said. “But when this administration came in and labeled me and others like me ‘dishonorable’ and ‘disciplined liars who lack the humility required for military service,’ it hit hard. When the Supreme Court then agreed to let the administration fire all of us, I had to figure out what would allow me to continue my service in a way that was meaningful and lived up to that oath.”
After being told she would have to retire from a career she describes as her life’s calling, Fram said she began searching for another way to serve — a path that ultimately led her to run for Congress.
“I had done the work over the past couple of decades to understand the America that I believe in, that America I believe we all can be,” Fram said. “That’s where this decision came from. I believe I can fight back and fight forward for Virginians — with the knowledge I have and with a vision of the America we can be.”
That vision, she said, is one that has yet to be fully realized — despite decades of promises from Democratic leaders across all branches of government.
“This is about protecting our fundamental rights — freedom of speech, freedom to assemble, bodily autonomy, a woman’s right to choose, and the ability for queer people to live our best lives,” Fram said. “Right now, our government is throwing barriers up in front of many people. They’re strengthening them, building walls higher, and actively damaging lives.”

Fram said her leadership philosophy was shaped by watching strong, effective leaders during her time in the Air Force and Space Force — leaders who reinforced her belief that true leadership means expanding opportunity, not restricting it.
“Leadership is about tearing barriers down — not climbing over them and forcing others to suffer through the same things,” she said. “It’s about making sure the people coming up behind us have even more opportunity to go further, faster. How do we be better tomorrow than we are today? How do we fulfill our founding promise of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?”
One way Fram said Congress could help dismantle those barriers is by passing the Equal Rights Amendment, enshrining constitutional protections for all people — particularly LGBTQ Americans.
“Getting the Equal Rights Amendment into the Constitution is absolutely critical to the future of queer rights,” she said. “Voting rights must also be clearly protected.”
Protecting democracy itself is also among her top priorities, Fram said.
“We need to take control of the House so we can put real checks on this administration,” she said. “That allows the American people to see how this administration is actively making their lives worse and less affordable — and it’s how we ultimately throw them out and get back to making life better.”
Fram said her experience working under four presidents — including during Trump’s first term — reinforced her belief that opposition to efforts curtailing civil liberties is essential.
“The primary thing we can do to protect democracy is to get rid of this administration,” she said. “Taking control of the House gives us true investigative power. Under every rock, there is likely an impeachable offense because they are failing to faithfully execute the laws of the United States.”
For her, the message Trump is sending is clear — he and others close-minded to the LGBTQ community are threatened by the possibility of what someone truly dedicated to service can become.
“One of the reasons this administration had to throw us out and silence us was because we were an example of what was possible. We shined so brightly by meeting or exceeding every standard that they couldn’t hide us away by any other means except kicking us out.”
Fram acknowledged that her identity has been a political target since 2016, but said those attacks have never been grounded in her ability to lead or accomplish complex missions over more than two decades of service.
“If others want to attack me on my identity, I welcome it,” she said. “I’m focused on whether people can afford groceries or feel safe in their communities.”
“I’m happy to be a lightning rod for those kinds of attacks,” she added. “If it allows Democrats to advance an agenda that makes life better for Americans, they can come after me all day long. They attacked me while I was in the military, before I was ever running for office.”
On policy, Fram said affordability, health care, and safety are at the center of her agenda.
“No one should be afraid to go to the doctor or fear surprise medical bills that put them into debt,” she said. “Every American deserves access to affordable, high-quality health care.”
She also emphasized a willingness to work across party lines — even with those who previously politicized her identity — if it means delivering results for constituents.
“If someone wants to work together to make people’s lives better, I’ll work with them,” she said. “If they want to come after me based on who I am, they can waste their energy on that.”
Asked how she defines hope in the current political moment, Fram rejected the idea of passive optimism.
“Hope isn’t naive optimism,” she said. “Hope is doing the work — engaging people and bending the moral arc of the universe toward justice.”
She added that representation itself can be transformative.
“Just being in Congress changes the narrative,” Fram said. “It lets a kid say, ‘Oh my God — I could do that too.’”
Uncloseted Media published this article on Jan. 24.
This story was produced with the support of MISTR, a telehealth platform offering free online access to PrEP, DoxyPEP, STI testing, Hepatitis C testing and treatment and long-term HIV care across the U.S. MISTR did not have any editorial input into the content of this story.
This story talks about addiction and substance use. If you or someone you know needs help, resources can be found here.
By SAM DONNDELINGER | In 2015, on the patio of Nowhere Bar, a queer nightclub in Louisville, Ky., music pulsed and bodies pressed as 23-year-old Lucas Pearson moved through the flashing lights and a blur of grinding limbs.
“I just randomly started talking to this guy,” he recalls. “He had this little spoon on a necklace, scooped out a hit of white powder, and handed it to me.”
Pearson sniffed it. Euphoria washed over him, time began to slow and the dancing bodies faded into a soft haze. For more than 10 minutes, Pearson felt “entirely present.” His social anxiety, depression, and any sadness he was feeling melted away.
While Pearson wouldn’t use ketamine again for the next five years, he says the feeling of ease the drug gave him was always “in the back of [his] mind.” So when he tried it for a second time in 2020 at a farm in upstate Kentucky, he liked the way it felt to disassociate from his childhood trauma.
“We got really messed up that night on it, and I was like, ‘I love this. I’ve missed this,’” Pearson told Uncloseted Media. “‘And I’m ready for some more.’”
Over the next three years, Pearson began using every day. Working remotely in the health care industry, no one checked in on him as long as he got his work done. He used ketamine at nightclubs, social events, game nights with friends and, eventually, at home alone.
“I was actively hooked on it,” he says. “I didn’t wanna do much of anything other than find that dissociating feeling. I just kept chasing it.”
While evidence suggests that most psychedelics have a lower risk of addiction than other drugs, ketamine is an exception, in part because it affects dopamine levels. In a 2007 bulletin from the Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, one researcher noted that after ketamine was invented in 1962, it developed a “reputation for insidiously trapping those who really knew better.” As a dissociative drug, ketamine induces a sense of detachment from one’s body, producing a trance-like state marked by pain relief, amnesia, euphoria, and a distortion of reality.
Despite declines in the use of other recreational drugs such as cocaine, ecstasy and nitrous oxide, ketamine use continues to rise, with one study finding that use increased by 81.8 percent from 2015 to 2019 and rose another 40 percent from 2021 to 2022. That increase is driven in part by ketamine’s growing legitimacy as a treatment for depression, anxiety, OCD, trauma, and even addiction.
As a result, ketamine clinics have proliferated across the U.S. with relatively few guardrails. At least a thousand clinics now offer off-label ketamine treatments outside of FDA-approved protections. Many commercial providers advertise same-day appointments and “almost immediate results.”
Alex Belser, a psychologist who studies psychedelic use in the queer community, says ketamine use has become pervasive among gay men. A 2025 study found that gay and lesbian adults in the U.S. are almost four times more likely to use ketamine than their heterosexual counterparts, and a 2011 study from the U.K. found that queer men were over three times more likely than queer women to use the drug.
Belser thinks ketamine use is so popular among gay men in part because of the high rates of loneliness, rejection, and trauma they experience. “Ketamine is not inherently good or bad. When used thoughtfully with integrity, with good protocols, it can be a really helpful medicine. But if left unregulated, with the amount of access and normalization we have, it can lead to addiction, harm, isolation, and bad outcomes,” he says.
Belser believes health misinformation is fueling a misunderstanding among gay men about the actual harm the drug can cause. “The medical and clinical communities have failed people by not adequately telling them that ketamine can lead to addiction and problematic outcomes,” he says. “It can serve people, but it can also damage people.”
‘Happy people don’t do ketamine’
Part of the appeal of ketamine is that dissociative feelings can relieve depressive symptoms, making it alluring to those who have trauma or mental health disorders. While properly regulated treatment works for some people, psychiatrist Owen Bowden-Jones says that he senses “the vast majority [of those addicted] are using it to self-medicate for emotional distress.”
“I always wanted to numb out my past,” says Pearson. “For the longest time, I saw ketamine as a possible way out.”
Pearson, now 33, was raised in a conservative and religious family. When he came out as gay to his mom at 16, he cried so much that he couldn’t speak and had to write it on a piece of paper and hand it to her.
“She stormed out of the house and ended up calling every member of the family and outing me. So that was really painful,” he says. “My whole childhood, I did not feel like I could be who I knew I was.”
“So when I picked up drugs, it was definitely a thought in my mind: This life that I lived as a child, I don’t want to feel it anymore,” he says. “I just want to numb it.”
One study shows that gay men are over three times as likely to develop PTSD compared to their heterosexual counterparts. Trauma can be one event or a “long string of daily hurts, such as … homophobia, bullying, and time spent in the closet,” according to Chris Tompkins, a licensed family therapist who works with gay men. Research shows that people who experience trauma are more likely to have addiction issues.
J, a 33-year-old marketing researcher based in Los Angeles, says his ketamine use began casually in his early 20s in New York’s queer nightlife scene, where the drug circulated freely. What started as an occasional escape intensified during the pandemic, when isolation, depression, and easy access turned ketamine into a daily habit.
“There’s a pretty fair connection between feelings of not being normal and my ketamine addiction,” J told Uncloseted Media. “I was bullied for being more feminine. My sexuality was a subject of speculation and that forced me to close down. So something like a dissociative drug is appealing because it either allows me to continue those blocks or to bring down the barriers.”
“There was a night when I had done K for the first time in a while, and the next couple of days, I felt so good,” he says. “I felt like my depression had lifted, and that feeling of doubt and fear I’d had throughout my life was totally gone.”
After that night, J, who asked to use a first initial to protect his identity, started using ketamine daily to chase the feeling of euphoria and relief. He got a prescription for ketamine treatment therapy, but he says it wasn’t enough.
“There were days when I would go do an infusion of ketamine and I would do more at home on my own. If I have the ability to escape feelings, to numb feelings, I will go after that.”
Many ketamine clinics in the U.S. advertise ketamine therapy as a cure-all. For example, the online clinic Better U promises that ketamine therapy will help you say goodbye to “Trauma,” “Chronic Stress,” “Depression and Anxiety,” “OCD,” “PTSD” and “Grief.”
What the clinic doesn’t note on its landing page is the possibility of addiction, which is what happened to J. While a common dose of ketamine is between 30-75 mg, J began using multiple grams a day. He spent thousands of dollars a month on ketamine and began structuring his life around the drug. “It stopped being about going out or having fun,” he says. “It just became what I did day in and day out.”
“Happy people don’t do ketamine,” Tasha, who is in recovery from a six-year-long addiction, told Uncloseted Media. She first tried the drug for fun at 17, but it became a problem after her father died when she was 26. At her peak, she was taking six to nine grams every day and up to 24 grams over the weekends.
“The wheels just fell off,” she says. “It’s an escapism drug — of course people with more trauma will do it more. You want to forget about everything so you take it and then it stops becoming fun and you don’t want to see your friends anymore. You just stay in your home behind closed doors sniffing K to get out of your head.”
The physical consequences of ketamine
Tasha didn’t know that chronic ketamine use can cause inflammation, ulceration, and damage or scarring to the bladder, liver, kidneys, and gallbladder. After using it for six years, she checked herself into the intensive care unit.
“I was just writhing in pain from K cramps, like a sharp stabbing pain under your ribs,” she says. “The trouble is, nothing works to fix them. The only thing that helps is doing more K. I had no idea it was so painful,” says Tasha, adding that she’s seen four people die from ketamine addiction in the last three years.
“There were times in my use where I would be screaming in bed in the worst agony I’ve ever felt in my life,” J says. “The only thing that made the pain better was using more drugs. It got to the point that I needed to have some amount of K in my system to function.”
“There is a massive explosion of ketamine use and addiction,” Mo Belal, a consultant urological surgeon and an expert on the severe bladder and kidney damage caused by chronic ketamine abuse, told Uncloseted Media. “The trouble is, it’s impossible to treat bladder and kidney damage when people are still using.”
Belal says that for those seeking treatment, there are no specific ketamine rehabilitation programs in the U.S. “Addiction and pain management services need to be involved in healing from ketamine abuse, because the drug’s effects often require specialized support.”
Belal says that during a one-hour rehab session, someone experiencing severe ketamine-related bladder pain might need to leave every 20 minutes, making it difficult for the patient to stay engaged.
“We need more awareness,” he says. “We need more centers for ketamine rehabilitation.”
Education and awareness
While there is some research about the effects of ketamine, Belser could not point to any studies that focus on how the drug intersects with gay men experiencing trauma. “The community of ketamine researchers and prescribers has been naive historically in understanding the habit-forming properties of ketamine,” he says. “What are the effects of ketamine use, good or bad, for gay men experiencing trauma, lifelong discrimination, and family rejection? We don’t know, because critical research hasn’t been funded.”
The Drug Enforcement Administration classifies ketamine’s abuse potential as moderate to low, a designation that may contribute to limited public education about its risks, including dependence and long-term side effects. Many people who encounter ketamine on the dance floor think it’s a healthy alternative to alcohol because they believe it’s non-addictive and it doesn’t give you a hangover.
“I did think that it was pretty safe when I was using and I didn’t think it was going to be addictive,” Pearson says.
Pearson, who has been clean for two years, says it wasn’t until he reached out to a friend who had recovered from ketamine use that he began getting clean. “I saw how happy my friend was in recovery, how normal his life felt. … And I knew that was the life I wanted.”
Similarly, for J, he felt alone in his ketamine addiction. It wasn’t until he found a queer-centered substance rehab program in LA that he felt some hope.
“It helped patch some of the missing pieces to my experiences in treatment before,” he says. “I think that relapse is a part of every addict’s story and every recovery story. But I think my relapses indicated that I still had some unresolved trauma and deep wounds that I hadn’t been aware of yet. And I think being around queer people in recovery has been helpful for me to feel a lot more comfortable with myself.”
Today, J is in therapy, continuing to break down the walls of his childhood trauma. Pearson is in a 12-step program after doing intensive therapy in his first few months of sobriety to help “clear up a lot of traumatic things that happened” in his past.
“I finally realized how far I’d drifted from everyone in my life — my friends, my family, even myself,” Pearson says. “I was chasing this feeling of disappearance, and it almost cost me everything. If I hadn’t stopped when I did, I don’t think I’d still be here. Getting sober gave me my life back, and I don’t ever want to lose that again.”
