Commentary
Memories of an unforgettable past with Xulhaz
Prominent Bangladesh activist was murdered in 2016

Xulhaz Mannan, a prominent Bangladeshi LGBT activist, was hacked to death in his home on April 25, 2016. (Photo courtesy of Facebook)
After almost three months back, I had seen him briefly at a Boys of Bangladesh, which is a self-identified gay group in Bangladesh, event and added him on Facebook. I was away in Savar, an area on the outskirts of Dhaka, for a residential university semester. We would talk over the phone and Facebook. I had asked him to meet me near Shia Mosque when I returned home as that was one of the few nearby landmarks I knew. “Super! You won’t believe (it) but I was thinking of proposing Shia Mosque! I am not much into (the) human species, too complicated, I’m more comfortable with nature. Loving the weather now, don’t u? Spring, no matter how lived, still rocks! Dangerous too, for it derails me from my path,” he replied back.
This was back in February 2010. Little could either of us predict that the end of spring 2016 would derail his journey forever! I was 19 back then and totally mesmerized by him. His voice had warmth but at the same time it had authority in it, something which was both comforting and disarming.
We used to talk about a lot of things, and love and relationships were one of them. Talking about relationships, he once mentioned, “Serious relationship . . . ummm . . . I fell in love with five men in my life, no matter how serious they were for me, the first four were unilateral but the relations in other terms were serious, like a serious friendship. The last one, number five, was bilateral, probably, is my only serious relationship that ended at the end of 2004 because he got married. We took about a two hours break, and now we are friends again.” During that time he would confess to being too individualistic to love and be with someone for 24 hours. I was invited to several gatherings at his place. He would refer them as “adda,” which is a gathering of his close friends filled with fun, sometimes music. Unfortunately, I had a curfew from my mother about staying out late and could never attend most of these. Somehow memories of him from the Boys of Bangladesh event betrayed me. Instead I would draw a picture of him from our conversations and how he must be in real life: A big tall man with a bigger personality. I confess that I was a little disappointed when we met. For a person with such a mature voice, he was petite. However, the disappointment was momentary. Within seconds, we were talking in the tone which we did over Facebook and the phone. The memory that I partly cherish and partly detest of him from this period was his ability to make me feel both loved and unwanted in split seconds.
Just in passing conversation, I once mentioned to him that I wish I were born as a woman so that I could be a homemaker. He got pretty irritated by that comment.
“Can’t believe people still see women’s role as a mere home maker,” he said. “You can still be a home maker. Why do you have to be a woman for that?”
He questioned my childish view of the world. When I read the messages we exchanged during those days, there were moments where he would get irritated on small issues, but he was mostly cheerful and happy. I once commented that he is glowing these days in his profile pictures. He said that he was happy and it reflected in them. He preferred things to be organized and in our conversation it was clearly visible.
I had once written to him, “It has been almost four months since the first time we met. If it has lasted four months.” It was only in 2015 when I messaged him back wishing him a happy birthday, 10/11/2015. The conversation did not go anywhere. However, I reached out to him again the same year. There were a lot of bloggers being killed in Bangladesh and I was worried about him. For the next few minutes, I felt that no time had passed between 2010 and 2015. He said, “This is so coincidental. I was just reading your review of our first Issue.” Among other things, Xulhaz was also the co-founder of Roopbaan, the first and only LGBT magazine of Bangladesh and I had written a critical review of it. We discussed about the violent situation in the country. I told him that because of their visibility, they make very easy targets for the extremist groups. He replied casually, “The last thing I’d want to do is live in fear, for not doing anything wrong. If anything happens as such, I’ll see it as an accident, not a punishment.” That one line made me come back to reality that it was 2015 and Xulhaz’s ideas towards LGBT visibility in Bangladesh to some extent might have taken over the cheerful and at times rude Xulhaz of 2010.
During this period, we came across each other at few LGBT advocacy events and we would merely exchange pleasantries. I remember visiting his house for a party and when I was leaving he came across to give me a hug. I did not know how to react to it. It was only in March 2016 when I got to spend a significant amount of time with him. He has proposed the idea of a documentary on the subject of the third Roopbaan rainbow rally and I volunteered to assist in directing it. The documentary required my boyfriend who was directing it and me to repeatedly visit Xulhaz’s house for pre-production leading up to the main shoot. Our interaction during this period was bittersweet and completely different compared to when we first met many moons ago. It must have been a combination of security concerns in the country, the pressure upon him to single handedly put up the rally and to a large extent we both had moved on in life. He was all over the place, putting the volunteers together, helping with the shoot, discussing about security risks and making sure his mother and everyone who gathered in his house had eaten lunch. One could clearly see that he was tired but he could manage everything and yet have time to mop his room, which I must say indicated OCD.
I am scared of cats and he had a big, fat one in his house. One time we went for an early morning shoot and we were having breakfast and I was telling his how scared I am of them. With a poker face, he said, “If you are so scared, why are you not reacting since she (his cat) was right behind you?” I screamed and moved to another place. He went to comment that I was overreacting, a comment I still feel was uncalled for considering it was about someone’s phobia. Between running around with cameras and helping to set the lights, there were moments when I could see the Xulhaz of 2010. I was looking for a rare white variety of aporajita (Asian pigeon wings) and I found the plant in his terrace garden. He promised that when the seeds will dry, he will keep some for me. The dream of having a white ajorajita remains unfulfilled.
The last time we ever met was on April 14, 2016. The police had denied permission for the LGBT community to participate in the rally. However, we went to Dhaka University to walk as Bangladeshis at the Pohela Boishakh (Bengali New Year) rally. When I reached, I saw that he was standing and talking to few people from the community. The disappointment of weeks of hard work being cancelled was visible on his face. However, when he saw me, he walked up to me and lightly touched my tummy for one second. That one moment of genuine concern from both of us was beyond any communication we ever had.
Xulhaz and his friend Tonoy were brutally murdered by a group of extremists who broke into their house on April 25, 2016.
Commentary
Protecting the trans community is not optional for elected allies and candidates
One of oldest political tactics is blaming vulnerable group for societal woes
Being an ally to the trans community is not a conditional position for me, nor should it be for any candidate. My allyship doesn’t hinge on polling, focus groups, or whether courage feels politically convenient. At a time when trans people, especially trans youth of color, are under coordinated attack, elected officials and candidates must do more than offer quiet support. We must take a public and solid stand.
History shows us how these moments begin. One of the oldest political tactics is to single out the most vulnerable and blame them for society’s anxieties — not because they are responsible, but because they are easier to blame than those with power and protection. In Nazi Germany, Jewish people were primarily targeted, but they were not the only demographic who suffered elimination. LGBTQ people, disabled people, Romani communities, political dissidents, and others were also rounded up, imprisoned, and killed. Among the earliest acts of fascistic repression was the destruction of Berlin’s Institute for Sexual Science, a pioneering center for gender-affirming care and LGBTQ research. These books and medical records were among the first to be confiscated and burned. It is not a coincidence that these same communities are now the first to suffer under this regime, they are our canaries in the coal mine signaling what’s to come.
Congress, emboldened by the rhetoric of the Donald Trump campaign, recently passed HR 3492 to criminalize healthcare workers who provide gender-affirming healthcare with fines and imprisonment. This bill, sponsored by celebrity politicians like Marjorie Taylor Greene, puts politics and headlines over people and health outcomes. Healthcare that a number of cis-gendered people also benefit from byway of hair regeneration and surgery, male and female breast augmentation, hormone replacement therapy etc. Even when these bills targeting this care do not pass, they do real damage. They create fear among patients, legal uncertainty for providers, and instability for clinics that serve the most marginalized people in our communities.
Here in D.C., organizations like Planned Parenthood and Whitman-Walker Health are lifelines for many communities. They provide gender-affirming care alongside primary care, mental health services, HIV treatment, and preventative medicine. When healthcare is politicized or criminalized, people don’t wait for court rulings — they delay care, ration medication, or disappear from the system entirely.
As a pharmacist, I know exactly what that means. These are life-saving medications. Continuity of care matters. Criminalizing and politicizing healthcare does not protect children or families — it puts lives at risk.
Instead of centering these realities, political discourse has been deliberately diverted toward a manufactured panic about trans women in sports. Let me be clear: trans women deserve to be protected and allowed to compete just like anyone else. Athletics have always included people with different bodies, strengths, and abilities. Girls and women will always encounter competitors who are stronger or faster — that is not a gender or sports crisis, it is the nature of competition.
Sports are meant to teach fairness, mutual respect, and the shared spirit of competition — not suspicion or exclusion. We should not police young people’s bodies, and we should reject attempts to single out trans youth as a political distraction. Families and doctors should be the authority on sex and gender identity.
This narrative has been cynically amplified by the right, but too often Democrats have allowed it to take hold rather than forcefully rejecting it. It is imperative to pay attention to what is happening — and to push back against every attempt to dehumanize anyone for political gain.
Trans people have always been part of our communities and our democracy. Protecting the most vulnerable is not radical — it is the foundation of a just society. My work is grounded in that commitment, and I will not waver from it. I’m proud to have hired trans political team Down Ballot to lead my campaign for DC Council At Large. We need more ally leaders of all stages to stand up for the LGBTQ+ community. We must let elected detractors know that when they come for them, then they come for all of us. We cannot allow Fox News and social media trolls to create a narrative that scares us away from protecting marginalized populations. We must stand up and do what’s right.
Anything less is not leadership.
Rep. Oye Owolewa is running for an at-large seat on the D.C. Council.
Commentary
America is going in the wrong direction for intersex children
Lawmakers are criminalizing care for trans youth, while permitting irreversible harm to intersex babies
I live with the consequences of what America is willing to condone in the name of “protecting children.”
When I was young, doctors and adults made irreversible decisions about my body without my informed consent. They weren’t responding to an emergency. They were responding to discomfort with innate physical differences and the social and medical pressure to make a child’s body conform to a rigid female-male binary. That’s the part people like to skip over when they talk about “child welfare”: the harm didn’t begin with my identity. It started with adults deciding my healthy body needed fixing.
That’s why the hypocrisy unfolding right now from statehouses to Capitol Hill feels so familiar, and so dangerous.
While harmful medical practices on intersex children, the nearly 2 percent born with differences in one or more of their physical sex characteristics, have been ongoing in the U.S. for decades, until recently, there was no law specifically condoning it.
This month, House Republicans passed one of the most extreme anti-trans bills in modern American history, advancing legislation that would criminalize gender-affirming medical care for transgender youth and threaten doctors with severe penalties for providing evidence-based treatment. The bill is framed as a measure to “protect children,” but in reality, it weaponizes the criminal legal system against families and providers who are trying to support young people in surviving adolescence.
At the same time, the administration has proposed hospital and insurance policies designed to choke off access to affirming care for trans youth nationwide by making providers fear loss of federal funding, regulatory retaliation, or prosecution. This is a familiar strategy: don’t just ban care outright; instead, make it so risky that hospitals stop providing it altogether. The result is the same everywhere. Young people lose access to care that major medical associations agree can be lifesaving.
All of this is happening under the banner of preventing “irreversible harm.”
But if America were genuinely concerned about irreversible harm to minors, the first thing lawmakers would address is the medically unnecessary, nonconsensual surgeries still performed on intersex infants and young children, procedures that permanently alter healthy tissue, often without urgent medical need, and long before a child can meaningfully participate in the decision. Human rights organizations have documented for years how these interventions are justified not by medical necessity, but by social pressure to make bodies appear more typically “female” or “male.”
Here is the uncomfortable truth: all of the state laws now banning gender-affirming care for transgender youth explicitly include exceptions that allow nonconsensual and harmful intersex surgeries to continue.
A recent JAMA Health Forum analysis found that 28 states have enacted bans on gender-affirming care for minors that carve out intersex exceptions, preserving doctors’ ability to perform irreversible “normalizing” procedures on intersex children even while prohibiting affirming care for trans adolescents.
This contradiction is not accidental. It reveals the real priority behind these laws.
If the goal were truly to protect children from irreversible medical interventions, intersex kids would be protected first. Instead, these policies target one group of children, transgender youth, while continuing to permit permanent interventions on another group whose bodies challenge the same rigid sex and gender binary that lawmakers are trying to enforce.
Intersex people are routinely erased from American policy debates, except when our bodies are invoked to justify harmful laws, warning that intersex children are being used as legal loopholes rather than protected as human beings. This “protect the children” rhetoric is routinely deployed to justify state control over bodies, while preserving medical practices that stripped intersex children like me of autonomy, good health, and choice. Those harms are not theoretical. They are lifelong.
What makes this moment even more jarring is that the federal government had finally begun to recognize intersex people and attempt to address the harms suffered.
In 2024, at the very end of his term, the Biden administration released the first-ever intersex health equity report — a landmark admission that intersex people have been harmed by the U.S. health care system. Issued by the Department of Health and Human Services, the report documents medically unnecessary interventions, lack of informed consent, and systemic erasure and recommends delaying irreversible procedures until individuals can meaningfully participate in decisions about their own bodies.
This should have been a turning point. Instead, America is moving in the opposite direction.
On day one, President Trump issued an executive order defining “sex” in a way attempting to delegitimize the existence of transgender Americans that also erased the existence of many intersex people.
When medicine is used to erase difference, it is called protection, while care that supports self-understanding is treated as a threat. This is not about medicine. It is about control.
You cannot claim to oppose irreversible harm to children while legally permitting surgeries that intersex adults and human rights experts have condemned for decades. You cannot claim to respect bodily autonomy while denying it selectively, based on whose bodies make lawmakers uncomfortable.
Protecting children means protecting all children, transgender, intersex, and cisgender alike. It means delaying irreversible interventions when they are not medically necessary. It means trusting and supporting young people and families over politicians chasing culture-war victories.
America can continue down the path of criminalizing care for some children while sanctioning harm to others, or it can finally listen to the people who have lived the consequences.
Intersex children deserve laws that protect their bodies, not politics that hurt and erase them.
Kimberly Zieselman is a human rights advocate and the author of “XOXY: A Memoir”. The author is a co-author of the JAMA Health Forum article cited, which examined state laws restricting gender-affirming care.
Today, on World AIDS Day, we honor the resilience, courage, and dignity of people living with HIV everywhere especially refugees, asylum seekers, and queer displaced communities across East Africa and the world.
For many, living with HIV is not just a health journey it is a journey of navigating stigma, borders, laws, discrimination, and survival.
Yet even in the face of displacement, uncertainty, and exclusion, queer people living with HIV continue to rise, thrive, advocate, and build community against all odds.
To every displaced person living with HIV:
• Your strength inspires us.
• Your story matters.
• You are worthy of safety, compassion, and the full right to health.
• You deserve a world where borders do not determine access to treatment, where identity does not determine dignity, and where your existence is celebrated not criminalized.
Let today be a reminder that:
• HIV is not a crime.
• Queer identity is not a crime.
• Seeking safety is not a crime.
• Stigma has no place in our communities.
• Access to treatment, care, and protection is a human right.
As we reflect, we must recommit ourselves to building systems that protect not punish displaced queer people living with HIV. We must amplify their voices, invest in inclusive healthcare, and fight the inequalities that fuel vulnerability.
Hope is stronger when we build it together.
Let’s continue to uplift, empower, and walk alongside those whose journeys are too often unheard.
Today we remember.
Today we stand together.
Today we renew hope.
Abraham Junior lives in the Gorom Refugee Settlement in South Sudan.
