As the second Trump administration passes the one-year mark, LGBTQ+ people across the United States are living through a profound and destabilizing shift. What has unfolded over the past year is a deliberate reorientation of federal power away from civil rights and toward state-sanctioned exclusion.

According to advocates at the Human Rights Campaign, this moment is best understood not as a collection of disconnected policy fights, but as a coordinated effort to roll back decades of progress.

Related

Trump-induced stress gave this nonbinary person chronic pain. They’re asking folks to “give a damn”

“This administration has shown a glaring lack of care for human life,” Bentley Hudson, Georgia State Director for the Human Rights Campaign, told LGBTQ Nation. “Anything that affirms the dignity of another human being is being undermined because human dignity and connection are the antithesis of authoritarianism.”

From the first week of the administration, that posture was made clear. President Trump immediately signed a barrage of anti-LGBTQ+ executive actions, including a reversal of federal nondiscrimination protections for LGBTQ+ people and the dismantling of diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging initiatives across the federal government.

Insights for the LGBTQ+ community

Subscribe to our briefing for insights into how politics impacts the LGBTQ+ community and more.
Subscribe to our Newsletter today

According to prior estimates from the Williams Institute, nearly 14,000 transgender federal employees and more than 100,000 LGBTQ+ employees of federal contractors had previously benefited from these protections. Their removal created immediate uncertainty in workplaces where discrimination was already widely underreported.

Miriam, a 42-year-old lesbian federal contractor in Washington, D.C., says the shift has been immediate and chilling. “Before, there was at least a sense that HR had your back,” she said. “Now, I don’t know if reporting something would protect me, or paint a target on me.”

Miriam noted that several LGBTQ+ coworkers have quietly removed pronouns from email signatures and stopped attending employee resource group meetings. “It feels like we’re shrinking again,” she added. “Like we’re back in a time we thought we had moved past, where to be safe we have to go invisible.”

Compounding this retreat is the rollback of federal data collection on sexual orientation and gender identity. Changes to surveys and reporting practices mean fewer reliable statistics on LGBTQ+ populations, making it harder to document disparities in health care, housing, employment, and education. Advocates warn that when communities are not counted, their needs are easier to ignore.

One year into Trump’s second term, LGBTQ+ people face an unmistakable contraction of federal protection. Yet the movement for equality has adapted. In the absence of reliable federal leadership, communities are organizing locally, building people power, and linking LGBTQ+ liberation to the broader defense of democracy and human dignity.

This isn’t politics to us

Hudson emphasized that HRC does not attempt to rank harm because harm is experienced differently across communities. Instead, the organization tracks patterns.

“What we have seen is the executive branch using its power to try to prevent people from accessing healthcare, from participating in public life, from being safe at work or at school,” Hudson said. “That includes federal workers, parents, children, doctors, and educators.”

Health care has emerged as one of the most consequential battlegrounds. HRC has filed litigation to protect access to gender-affirming care for federal workers after the administration moved to exclude coverage under federal health benefit programs. Federal agencies have also sought to reinterpret civil rights statutes in ways that weaken protections for transgender people in federally funded health programs, a shift documented by the Kaiser Family Foundation.

“When you say a trans person should not have access to healthcare because of who they are,” Hudson explained, “you open the door to denying healthcare to anyone because of who they are.”

Elena, a mother of a 14-year-old transgender boy in Texas, says her family’s clinic has warned them that care may not continue. “They couldn’t give us answers, only ‘maybe’ and ‘We’ll see,’ Elena said.

“How do you explain that to a kid who already feels like the world doesn’t want him?” She described watching her son’s mental health improve after beginning gender-affirming care, and the fear of what could happen if that care is interrupted. “This isn’t politics to us,” she said. “It’s my child’s health. It’s whether he feels safe in his own body.” Medical providers report delaying or limiting services out of fear of regulatory consequences, leaving families to travel long distances or turn to overburdened clinics.

Education policy has followed a similar trajectory. With weakened federal guidance, protections for LGBTQ+ students now vary drastically by state and district. Issues such as bathroom access, participation in school activities, and responses to bullying are increasingly left to local discretion. Internal directives within the Department of Education instructed staff to halt programs that supported transgender students.

Avery, a 17-year-old transgender student in Ohio, says the difference is palpable. “Before, I felt like the school had to take me seriously,” Avery explained. “Now, when kids make comments or use the wrong pronouns on purpose, it’s like administrators don’t know what they’re supposed to do – or they just don’t want to deal with it.”

Avery described avoiding school bathrooms entirely, timing their day around when they can safely go at home. “It sounds small, but it controls your whole day,” they said. “You’re constantly thinking about where you’re allowed to exist.”

Advocates warn that this uncertainty creates fertile ground for harassment and isolation, particularly as national rhetoric emboldens anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment.

Beyond health care and education, the administration has targeted LGBTQ+ people’s presence in public life. The reinstatement of the ban on transgender military service has placed thousands of service members in professional limbo. In early 2025, the administration issued an executive order barring transgender people from military service, and the U.S. Supreme Court allowed enforcement to proceed while legal challenges continue. Thousands of transgender service members now face halted medical care and potential discharge.

A warning sign for everyone

At the same time, LGBTQ+ and HIV-related resources have quietly disappeared from federal websites, eliminating access to reliable public health information and sending a symbolic message about whose lives are valued.

“Erasure is not neutral,” Hudson said. “When the government removes information about a community, it tells people that they do not exist or do not matter.”

Jamal, a 29-year-old gay man living with HIV in Georgia, noticed the changes immediately.

“It might seem symbolic, but symbols matter,” he said. “When the government removes information about you, it feels like they’re saying you don’t exist, or you don’t deserve help.” Jamal, who volunteers with an HIV outreach organization, worries that misinformation spreads when official resources disappear. “People start trusting rumors instead of facts,” he explained. “That can be dangerous.”

Crucially, Hudson situates these actions within a broader political project. Rather than viewing attacks on LGBTQ+ people, immigrants, unhoused people, or disabled communities as separate agendas, HRC understands them as interconnected.

“This is not just about LGBTQ people,” Hudson said. “We share human rights with everyone in this country.”

Scholars and organizers increasingly describe this moment as part of what Reverend Dr. William Barber II has termed the Third Reconstruction, a renewed struggle for racial, economic, and civil justice following the unfinished work of the Civil War and Civil Rights eras.

Despite the scale of the challenges, Hudson stressed that the past year has also revealed resilience. HRC now counts over 3.6 million members and supporters nationwide. It has expanded rapid response efforts, pursued litigation, and invested heavily in state-level political organizing.

“Voters are rejecting the message that hating your neighbor makes your life better,” Hudson said.

Rosa, a queer organizer in Arizona, describes a shift in strategy. “We’re no longer assuming federal protection will save us,” she said. “We’re building safety at the community level, know-your-rights training, mutual aid, and rapid response networks.”

Rosa noted that younger activists are organizing with fewer illusions about political permanence. “They understand that rights can be taken away,” she said. “So they’re organizing like it matters, because it does.” Advocates are also urging politicians to change how they frame LGBTQ+ equality, connecting it to broader democratic values such as privacy, bodily autonomy, and freedom from government intrusion. “When LGBTQ+ rights are attacked,” Rosa added, “it’s a warning sign for everyone.”

For Hudson, the lesson of the past year is clear.

“Visibility alone isn’t protection,” he said. “Laws matter. Community matters. And we can’t afford to be complacent.”

In short, the fight has changed. But it is far from over.

Subscribe to the LGBTQ Nation newsletter and be the first to know about the latest headlines shaping LGBTQ+ communities worldwide.