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From heroin and homelessness to Cirque stardom

How gymnastics helped save me from addiction

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Joe Putignano, gay news, Washington Blade
Joe Putignano, gay news, Washington Blade

Joe Putignano (Photo by Thomas Synnamon)

I have had so many athletic setbacks in my life that you might think I would have given up a long time ago, but something deep inside me urged me to push through it.

As a young child I trained in gymnastics. I loved it and sensed that this was my purpose in life. When I was flipping in the air I felt as if there was a boundless energy inside me, like the wind, and I wanted to chase that feeling forever.

During the beginning of my athletic career I competed and won many gymnastics competitions, and had even been invited to the Olympic Training Center camp in Colorado Springs. I was dedicated, strong and driven, but then, without warning, I had a terrible asthma attack that landed me in the hospital for several weeks. I had suffered from asthma prior to this attack, but had usually managed my symptoms with medication. However, this attack was life threatening. It set me back athletically.

I was bedridden and put on strong corticosteroids, which caused me to retain water and gain weight. Because I couldn’t breathe, my cardiovascular system rapidly fell out of shape. I tried exercising in the hospital, against medical advice, once the nurses left my room, knowing that while I laid there in a hospital bed, other kids were out there training. If I didn’t keep up, they were going to win.

It took a long time to fully recover, but I fought my way back into shape. I went to the Olympic Training Center camp and was back in competitive action, but another debilitating asthma attack sent me straight back to the hospital for almost a month. By the time I recovered from this attack, I was so out of shape that even my teammates were shocked. A very small part of me wanted to quit. I was embarrassed, and I truly believed I could never get back in shape again; however my passion for gymnastics was louder than the self-doubt. I trained as if my entire life depended on it.

Even though I continued to train and compete in gymnastics, I stepped onto a sinister path leading to substance abuse. Like many teenagers, I used substances recreationally, and found great comfort in the relief they gave me. They quieted the pressure and desire to be the best. It was the mid-90s — the height of the rave era — and it was so compelling to me that I marched right into it and began abusing every club drug I could find, along with cocaine and benzodiazepines. My addiction crushed my passion and I traded happiness for the darkness of addiction.

At 18, I didn’t care about anything and I believed I was living a life of freedom, only to get locked into the jail cell of addiction that ended with me becoming a homeless heroin addict, continuing to use for 10 more years. I left my inner athlete in the shadows and never wanted to see or perform another acrobatic skill again.

Addiction isn’t glamorous or fun; I tried to get clean for 10 years and was in and out of 12-step programs and rehabs. At 27, I went to my fourth rehab. My counselor suggested I do something that brought me passion. I knew that passion was gymnastics. I was too ashamed to return to the sport at which I once excelled; I told myself I was too old and broken to start over. Her suggestion though blossomed into an idea, which wildly grew into action and on that day in rehab, I was doing pushups and handstands.

I knew I would never compete again, but loved the sport and artistry for what it was. I had been smoking cigarettes and shooting heroin for years. I knew getting back into shape wasn’t going to be easy or fun, but for some reason, that repressed, stifled, athlete deep inside me stepped forward from the shadows, claiming its former presence.

The obsession to use slowly faded and passion occupied the space the drugs once inhabited. I trained every waking moment, and my body was in agony. I had always been intrigued by contortionists, and began training with one. I had a few relapses during those years, but I continued to train. It was awful because I would become dope sick, training in extreme, painful flexibility, and it felt like a demon was braiding my spinal column, but still I focused on the light at the end of the tunnel.

I stayed in recovery, becoming a contortionist and gymnast on a Broadway show. Realizing that goal was a turning point in my life; I wasn’t too old or too broken. From there I continued on.

At 32, I embarked on the journey of a lifetime for an acrobat, performing as the Crystal Man in Cirque du Soleil’s Totem. The Crystal Man character was developed around my own story, and I performed in more than 1,000 shows. While on tour with Cirque du Soleil, I wrote my memoir ā€œAcrobaddict.ā€ I wanted to share my experience, strength and hope with others who may struggle with addiction, self-doubt and depression.

As I look back at all those times I could have easily justified giving up and giving in, but I am reminded of how lucky I am and continue to try and persevere. The closest I have ever come to knowing myself, who I truly am, has been at my lowest points in life, because it is then, and only then, that I discover what I am made of.

Joe Putignano is a performing artist and contortionist who has performed in more than 1,000 shows with Cirque du Soleil. He is the author of ā€˜Acrobaddict.’

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America’s detransition: The far-right’s coordinated attack on climate policy and trans rights

Progress framed as ‘mistake that must be undone’

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Beach erosion in Fire Island Pines, N.Y. The far-right has launched a coordinated attack on climate policy and transgender rights. (Photo courtesy of Savannah Farrell / Actum)

What if the far-right’s endgame isn’t just stopping progress, but erasing it altogether? From banning trans healthcare to reversing climate policies, they aren’t just resisting change — they’re trying to force the world back into an imaginary past that never existed.

Across climate policy and trans rights, the right isn’t just opposing change — it’s actively detransitioning America, unraveling progress under the guise of “common sense” and “restoring order.” But this isn’t just about ideology. It’s about power.

From pulling out of the Paris Agreement to banning gender-affirming healthcare, the right has perfected a political strategy that frames progress as a mistake that must be undone. Whether it’s climate action or trans visibility, any step toward justice is framed as dangerous, unnatural, and in need of correction.

And if we look closer, these attacks aren’t just similar — they are deeply connected. By comparing the right’s climate rollbacks and its war on trans rights, we can see a broader strategy at work: One that fuels fear, manufactures doubt, and ultimately serves the interests of those already in control.

The fight isn’t just about policy. It’s about who gets to belong in the future.

The manufactured crisis: Who profits from reversal?

To justify rolling back both trans rights and climate protections, the right leans on manufactured crises — presenting change as a dangerous social experiment gone wrong. And the most effective way to do that? Weaponizing doubt.

Take climate change. Despite overwhelming scientific consensus, climate denialists cherry-pick uncertainties — using rare instances of changing climate models to cast doubt on the entire field.

Similarly, the right has latched onto detransition stories, amplifying a handful of cases where individuals regret transitioning to suggest that all trans people will regret their identities.

By focusing on individual regret rather than systemic realities, these movements create the illusion that climate action and trans healthcare are harmful mistakes rather than necessary progress. The message is clear: We must ā€œcorrectā€ these wrongs by detransitioning the country back to a time before this supposed damage occurred.

But who actually benefits from this rollback?

  • Fossil fuel companies profit from climate skepticism, ensuring we remain dependent on dirty energy.
  • Right-wing politicians fundraise off anti-trans fearmongering while avoiding economic issues that might actually improve people’s lives.

By making people believe they are ā€œfighting backā€ against elites, the right obscures the actual elites profiting from this manufactured outrage.

The spectacle: Turning trans lives and climate policy into distractions

None of this would work without media spectacle. Right-wing politicians and media outlets know that the most effective way to keep people from questioning power is to keep them emotionally invested in a performance.

Take the far right’s obsession with trans youth. They flood the airwaves with panic over puberty blockers, despite the fact that gender-affirming care is exceedingly rare.

A peer-reviewed study analyzing private insurance claims found that out of more than 5 million adolescents ages 8 to 17, only 926 received puberty blockers and 1,927 received hormone therapy between 2018 and 2022.

Similarly, climate policies are attacked as elitist schemes to control the working class — painting green energy initiatives as an attack on personal freedom, just as gender-affirming care is framed as an attack on children.

By shifting the focus onto symbolic enemies — the ā€œradical trans activistā€ or the ā€œclimate elitistā€ — the right gives people someone to hate while avoiding the real sources of economic and environmental crisis.

And this isn’t just a cultural strategy. It’s a business model.

Capitalism is in the business of creating problems, then selling solutions.

Both strategies ensure that nothing actually changes, while making people feel like they’re participating in a fight for freedom.

It’s a distraction, and it’s working.

Nature as a battleground: The far-right’s fear of fluidity

At its core, the war on trans people and the war on climate action stem from the same fear: The fear of change.

Queer ecology tells us that nature itself is fluid, adaptive, and in constant transition. Yet, the far-right insists on rigid, binary categories:

  • Man/Woman.
  • Fossil Fuels/Renewables.
  • Traditional/Disruptive.

In both cases, fluidity is framed as unnatural — something that must be controlled through political intervention.

But what’s truly unnatural? The attempt to freeze society in time. The climate has always changed. Gender has always been fluid. The far-right isn’t defending nature — they’re defending control.

The far-right’s detransition obsession mirrors climate rollbacks

Capitalism is not interested in actual progress — it only cares about control.

The obsession with detransition mirrors climate rollbacks in that both are framed as necessary corrections to a mistake.

But the goal isn’t returning to a real past. It’s about constructing a version of the past that justifies present oppression.

  • Climate denial isn’t about scientific debate — it’s about maintaining corporate power, as Time reported in 2025
  • Anti-trans laws aren’t about protecting kids — they’re about enforcing gender hierarchies, according to a 2025 New York Times editorial.

Neither of these rollbacks is accidental. They are part of a deliberate strategy of control — one that tells us that progress is always temporary and can always be reversed.

Who owns the future?

If we allow the right to detransition America, we risk a world where progress is always reversible, and power remains in the hands of those who benefit from disorder and fear.

The real question isn’t whether these issues are linked — it’s why they were ever separated to begin with. The fights for climate justice and trans rights are one and the same:

  • A fight against the illusion of permanence.
  • A fight against manufactured crisis and controlled reversal.
  • A fight for a future that actually belongs to all of us.

So what do we do?

  • We must refuse to accept their manufactured doubt — trans rights and climate action are not mistakes that need fixing.
  • We must reject their false nostalgia — there is no past to return to, only a future to create.
  • And most importantly, we must recognize that these struggles are connected.

If we fail to see this, we risk allowing reactionary forces to shape the future. But if we understand their playbook, we can disrupt the spectacle and refuse to let them dictate what comes next.

Because this fight isn’t about going back. It’s about moving forward — and making sure no one can take that future away.

Cody Hays is a Ph.D. student at Arizona State University’s Walter Cronkite School, researching media psychology, public understanding of science, and digital misinformation, with a focus on ideological worldviews; they are a Graduate Research Fellow in the MIDaS and Views and Values Labs, executive editor of the Journal of Public Interest Communications, and a nonprofit communications strategist with over a decade of experience in combating disinformation and mobilizing action.

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History of D.C. Pride: 1995-2007, a time of growth and inclusion

Rainbow History Project plans expansive WorldPride exhibit

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The Gay Men's Chorus of Washington performs at the Lesbian and Gay Freedom Festival on March 18, 1995. (Washington Blade archive photo by Clint Steib)

In conjunction with WorldPride 2025 the Rainbow History Project is creating an exhibit on the evolution of Pride: ā€œPickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington.ā€ In ā€œFreedom on America’s Main Streets,ā€ we discuss how during the 1990s the LGBTQ communities became more prominent across all areas of American life, the circumstances of moving official Pride activities to Pennsylvania Avenue, and the origin of the name ā€œCapital Pride.ā€

Throughout the 1990s, LGBTQ visibility increased significantly in American society. The LGBTQ community’s presence extended beyond news coverage of AIDS activism, with members participating in various social movements. Gay Black men joined the Million Man March in 1995, carrying banners and signs proclaiming “Black by Birth, Gay by God, Proud by Choice.ā€ Lesbians led abortion-rights rallies, LGBTQ Asians joined Lunar New Year parades, and LGBTQ Latinos marched in Fiesta DC.

Once again, financial difficulties around Pride activities led to the dissolution of the Gay and Lesbian Pride of Washington as an organization and the gay arts and culture non-profit One in Ten took over organizing Pride. One in Ten’s mission was not solely Pride planning, but rather year round activities, including an attempt to make an LGBTQ history museum. Due to the explosion of activities, the crowd sizes, and the growing concerns around feelings of exclusion brought on by the neighborhood’s identity as a primarily gay white male space, in 1995, One in Ten moved the Pride parade and festival out of Dupont Circle to Freedom Plaza on Pennsylvania Avenue. 

Although the struggle for bisexual visibility had successfully added the B to the 1993 March on Washington, the push to add Trans and Queer identities to Gay Pride’s name was not yet successful; Pride was reborn as The Freedom Festival. Two years later, in 1997, the Whitman-Walker Clinic became not just a sponsor but also a co-organizer to alleviate some of the organizational and financial challenges. It was during this time that the event was officially renamed Capital Pride.

The name change sparked debate within the community. Frank Kameny, who had organized the 1965 pickets, harshly criticized the new name, arguing that it “certainly provides not an inkling of what we really mean: Pride that we are Gay.ā€ He lamented that the name change “represents Gay shame.ā€ However, others celebrated the inclusivity of the new name. L. A. Nash, a self-identified lesbian, wrote, “Gay is good—Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender is far better.ā€ Elke Martin further supported the change, stating, “A name is your identity, it gives you legitimacy and a seat at the table.ā€ Capital Pride’s official name was now ā€œCapital Pride Festival: A Celebration of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered Community and Friends.ā€

In April 2000, the Millennium March on Washington highlighted divisions within the gay civil rights movement. Unlike previous grassroots marches organized by local activists, this event was orchestrated by national organizations like the Human Rights Campaign. However, its Millennium Pride Festival was by far the largest event with major headliners performing, including Garth Brooks and Pet Shop Boys. Critics argued that these events represented a corporatization of activism that sidelined political demands and local groups struggling for recognition.

In 2001, Capital Pride events were attracting 100,000 attendees. The festival was held on Pennsylvania Avenue with the U.S. Capitol in the background of the main stage. This location, often referred to as “America’s Main Street,” symbolized a significant visibility boost for the LGBTQ community. However, the Washington Post failed to cover the event beyond a simple listing in its events calendar. The outrage that ensued led Capital Pride director Robert York to state: ā€œThis is the biggest and best Pride we’ve had, and it is important to see it covered other than in the gay press.ā€

It wasn’t until 2007, however, that SaVanna Wanzer, a trans woman of color and Capital Pride board member, successfully established Capital Trans Pride. “The transgender community needs its own event,ā€ Wanzer stated, ā€œrather than just using us as entertainment. That’s all we’ve been allowed to do.ā€ Trans Pride’s creation was a significant step toward greater inclusivity within the LGBTQ community.

Our WorldPride 2025 exhibit, ā€œPickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington,ā€ will be installed on Freedom Plaza on May 17 to coincide with DC Trans Pride. We need your help to make it happen.

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On this Transgender Day of Visibility, we can’t allow this administration to erase us

All people deserve to have our experiences included in the story of this country

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The transgender Pride flag drawn near the entrance to the Stonewall National Monument in New York on March 13, 2025. The National Park Service has removed transgender-specific references from the Stonewall National Monument's website. (Washington Blade photo by Michael K. Lavers)

By KELLAN BAKER | Since 2009, the world has observed Transgender Day of Visibility (TDOV) each March 31. The importance of ā€˜visibility’ feels especially significant this year, not only as a trans person but for me as a researcher whose career has been centered on equity and inclusion for transgender people. My work over the past 16 years, which has focused on advancing fairness, access, and transparency in health care for gender diverse populations, could not have prepared me for the speed and cruelty at which the Trump administration has worked to literally erase transgender people from public life. Ā 

From banning transgender people from serving openly in the military, blocking access to best practice medical care, and making it all but impossible for us to obtain accurate identification documents that match our gender, the impact of these attacks will be felt for years to come. As a scientist dedicated to fostering the health and wellbeing of diverse communities, I am particularly devastated by the intentional destruction of the federal research infrastructure and statistical systems that are intended to ensure the accurate and comprehensive collection of data on the full diversity of the U.S. population.   

The importance of data cannot be understated. This makes the efforts by the federal government to remove survey questions, erase variables from key data sets, and stifle research even more alarming. By simultaneously removing access to existing datasets, removing gender (and other key measures, such as sexual orientation, race, and disability) from key surveys, terminating federal funding for research projects that include trans people, and censoring research projects at federal data centers, this administration’s goal is to erase the lived experiences of trans people – with the idea that if we don’t exist in data and in research, the federal government can claim that we don’t exist at all.  

Just in the past two months, we’ve seen a rapid decimation of the inclusion of transgender people in federal research and their visibility in the federal statistical system.  

Data sets that included gender measures have disappeared from federal websites. Critical data sets used by federal and state policymakers, public health staff, and researchers, such as the Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance System (YRBSS), were removed from the CDC website in response to a Trump executive order that made it the policy of the administration to recognize only two sexes, male and female. Although some datasets have been put back up, gender variables have been removed.  

Surveys that had asked about gender identity no longer do. Claiming that the removal of gender identity measures from key national surveys such as the American Housing Survey, Household Pulse Survey, and National Health Interview Survey were ā€œnon-substantial,ā€ the Trump administration has essentially skipped the extensive notice and public comment process that is required to make these types of changes—the same process that were used to add gender identity (and sexual orientation) measures.  

In addition, attempts to exclude trans people and other communities facing disparities from surveys will result in a lack of large enough sample sizes to conduct quality data analysis, while reducing any chance of analyzing racial and ethnic differences among trans people. 

Hundreds of grants supporting inclusive research have been terminated. The unprecedented move of the National Institutes of Health (NIH) to terminate research grants that include transgender people is just one example of this administration’s rush to eliminate funding from active scientific projects. In many cases, similar agencies are also now required to remove gender identity measures from federally supported surveys. Prominent trans health researchers have watched as their research portfolios are halted, work stopped, staff laid off, and participants left without care. 

At the Institute for Health Research & Policy at Whitman-Walker, for example, we have already had seven studies terminated, with a financial impact that exceeds $3 million. One of these cancelled grants was a multi-year, longitudinal study in partnership with the George Washington University to explore the impact of structural racism and anti-LGBTQ bias on HIV risk among young queer and trans people of color nationwide. The notices of termination for this and other awards clearly spell out the administration’s disdain for groundbreaking research that seeks to understand and address health disparities related to LGBTQ populations, particularly trans people. 

Censoring research. As seen with recent changes implemented by the CDC, the censorship of gender-related terms on federal websites and scientific publications is intended to further the erasure of evidence detailing the disparities faced by LGBTQ people. 

On a day dedicated to honoring the lives and contributions of trans people, the impact that these egregious actions will ultimately have on the health and wellbeing of trans and nonbinary people is chilling. Without access to this knowledge, researchers will not be able to examine the repercussions of the harmful policies put forth by this administration and many states across the country, including bans and restrictions that negatively impact trans people’s physical and mental health, economic security, and educational outcomes. 

Although there has been an effort by non-government entities to collect and store previously collected data prior to the Trump administration’s purges, state surveys, private research firms, and academics cannot fill the void left by the federal government’s decision to halt data inclusion. Ensuring that public entities and researchers can continue to use these datasets is only one piece of the puzzle being taken on by groups such as the Data Rescue Project and repositories like Data Lumos. Work also continues thanks to the efforts of the U.S. Trans Survey, the California Health Interview Survey (CHIS), and the important research and analysis of both Gallup and The Pew Research Center. Yet, gaps still exist due to threats of federal funding cuts to organizations committed to safeguarding inclusive data assets in the wake of the administration’s continued assault on trans rights.   

This administration suggests that removing one of the only tools available for identifying an entire population of people is a ā€œnon-substantialā€ action. This not only questions the intelligence of the American people but is a direct insult to trans folks everywhere. All people deserve to be counted and to have our experiences included in the story of this country. Transgender people have always been a part of this country, and even if our nation’s surveys choose to exclude us, we continue to exist—authentically, unapologetically, and forever visible.    

Kellan Baker, Ph.D., M.P.H, M.A., is executive director of the Institute for Health Research & Policy at Whitman-Walker.

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