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I know this will bring the heat, and I value and respect many individual folks within ACA, but as a whole I don't feel the organization has my back.
I have chosen not to renew my ACA membership at this time. As a transgender counselor working primarily with LGBTQIA2S+ clients and other marginalized communities, I value professional associations that demonstrate visible, consistent, and proactive advocacy for both practitioners and clients who are most at risk in today’s political climate. While ACA’s Code of Ethics and national platform have the potential to be powerful tools for equity, I have not consistently seen the level of urgency, representation, or intersectional leadership needed to fully support trans and nonbinary counselors—or to defend access to affirming care—especially as legislative attacks escalate across the country. These gaps make it difficult for me to justify the financial investment when other organizations more directly reflect and act upon the needs of myself, my clients, and community. I hope ACA will continue to strengthen its public advocacy, increase trans/GE and marginalized counselor representation in leadership, and take more decisive stands on issues impacting the most vulnerable. Should I see sustained progress in these areas, I would be glad to reconsider membership in the future. How about you?  The Moment We Are In
America is in crisis. Again. The rights of marginalized communities—particularly Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC), trans individuals, and the economically disenfranchised—are under attack from every angle. DEI programs? Slashed. Gender-affirming care? Criminalized. Affirmative action? Struck down. Book bans? Skyrocketing. It’s no coincidence—it’s a pattern. Every time marginalized communities make progress, the backlash follows. We’ve seen this before, and history tells us that if we don’t fight back, things will only get worse. To mount an effective resistance, we need to recognize what’s happening: a systematic attempt to roll back progress under the guise of “protecting” tradition. But here’s the truth—this isn’t just about DEI or LGBTQ+ rights. It’s about democracy itself. And if we don’t act now, we risk losing far more than we realize. A Dangerous Pattern: History Keeps Repeating Itself Every era of progress has been followed by a vicious backlash. The playbook hasn’t changed—it’s just been updated for the 21st century. Reconstruction and Jim Crow: Black Americans made gains after the Civil War, only to be met with voter suppression, segregation, and state-sanctioned violence. Today’s gerrymandering, voter ID laws, and attacks on affirmative action echo these old tactics, just with new branding.
The Current Crisis: How Progress is Being Erased The attacks on civil rights, racial justice, and LGBTQ+ protections are not random; they are systematic and intentional. The Supreme Court’s decision to gut affirmative action is just one example of a larger movement to roll back progress. In Republican-led states, gender-affirming care is being banned not just for minors but increasingly for adults as well. Books that discuss racism, queer identity, or the realities of America’s past are being pulled from shelves at an unprecedented rate, ensuring that younger generations are denied the truth. These efforts disproportionately harm Black and Indigenous communities, which remain the most heavily policed and incarcerated groups in the country. Trans people—especially Black trans women—face rising violence, compounded by legal and economic discrimination. As housing costs soar and wages stagnate, the economic gap is widening, leaving marginalized people with fewer options and greater vulnerability. And yet, while these attacks escalate, some of the very institutions that claimed to stand for justice are retreating. DEI programs that once seemed promising are being dismantled under pressure. Corporate allies that once proudly displayed rainbow logos and Black Lives Matter statements are now silent. The pattern is clear: when resistance is no longer trendy, support disappears. White and cis-hetero allies must recognize their role in this crisis—not as leaders, but as facilitators of change. We don’t need saviors; we need those with institutional power to step up in tangible ways. Your voices are heard in spaces where ours are ignored. You have access to financial and legal resources that can be used to uplift rather than overshadow our movements. True allyship means making space, funding grassroots efforts, and using your privilege to battle these legislative assaults head-on. Stand beside us—not in front of us. This isn’t about optics. It’s about survival. How We Fight Back: Lessons from Resistance Movements History proves that real change comes from grassroots activism, not performative allyship. Every major civil rights victory—from desegregation to marriage equality—was won through relentless, organized resistance. If we want to stop this rollback, we need to apply the lessons of past movements. The Combahee River Collective taught us that Black feminist organizing must address the interconnected nature of race, gender, and class oppression. Queer liberation movements, led by figures like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, showed that real change happens when the most marginalized are at the center of the fight. The Black Panthers, Young Lords, and American Indian Movement didn’t wait for permission from institutions; they built their own solutions, from free breakfast programs to community defense initiatives. Now is the time for White and cisgender/heterosexual allies to reinvest in grassroots efforts. Mutual aid networks, local organizers, and direct-action movements need your support. You have power in legal and policy spaces where we are often excluded, so use it. Challenge these rollbacks in court, fight for inclusive legislation, and push back against those seeking to erase progress. But beyond that, hold your own communities accountable. Speak up at your workplace, in your faith spaces, and at your dinner tables. Most importantly, don’t center yourself. This fight isn’t about personal redemption or looking “woke.” It’s about ensuring that marginalized communities have the resources, platforms, and protection needed to fight for themselves. True advocacy isn’t just posting statements of solidarity; it’s putting your time, money, and reputation on the line—even when it’s inconvenient or unpopular. The most important lesson we can take from history is that divided movements fail. The same forces attacking Black rights are attacking trans rights, and the same politicians who gut DEI programs are the ones eroding voting rights. Our struggles are not separate—they are deeply intertwined. And our fight must be just as unified. The Fight for Justice is the Fight for Democracy What’s happening right now isn’t just about DEI policies or trans rights—it’s a full-scale assault on democracy. The erosion of civil rights protections, voting rights, and bodily autonomy is part of a larger strategy to maintain systemic power. But history also shows us that collective resistance can turn the tide. Every major civil rights victory—whether it was desegregation, marriage equality, or the repeal of anti-sodomy laws—came because people refused to back down. Now, it’s our turn to take up that fight. The question is: Are we ready? Because if we don’t act now, we’ll be asking ourselves, years from now, how we let it all slip away. Among other concerns in the Iowa legislature today, there are a few bills in particular that are very concerning.
SB3006 This bill pertains to "protections for healthcare institutions, healthcare payors, and medical practitioners including those related to the exercise of a right of conscience." According to the current wording, this can include behavioral health practitioners as well. It equates to a free pass to violate ethics rules and refuse to treat (non-emergent) persons you feel are offensive to your beliefs. It is bigotry and discrimination disguised as religious freedom. Contact your legislators TODAY and/or place public comment on the bill so it does not leave subcommittee. HF2046 relating to disseminationg or exhibition of obscene material to a minor...this sounds like a good thing, of course, but when you also look at their definition of obscene material you see what is being put together here. Finally, though it seems potentially minor, HF2064 is also potentially problematic for healthcare and behavioral health practitioners. Click this LINK to find your legislators in Iowa. Use the bill lookup tools to find the bills and leave public comment where you are able. Email and call bill sponsors and co-sponsors. And definitely push your professional institutions and organizations to file a position on these bills as soon as possible.  Before getting started here, I'd like to state a little disclaimer of sorts. 12 Step programs work for a lot of people. This is in no way intended to bash 12 Step Programs. They have existed for decades for a reason, and I expect them to last for decades more. They're good programs and many people find new lives there in recovery. They just aren't the answer for everyone.
The substance use disorder treatment world has a problem (well, many), especially in rural areas like mine. It tends to be a one-size-fits-all kind of program, in an increasingly diverse and changing population. Not that long ago, just a few decades, rural Midwest states were dealing mostly with White clients struggling largely with alcohol, marijuana, or methamphetamine related substance problems. In fact, treatment centers and counselors were so used to dealing with alcohol and marijuana, that meth became a huge deal (rightly so!), an epidemic in White rural culture. Truly, it was and remains a huge problem impacting so many lives across the country, and especially in the rural areas where it is easier for small-time "cooks" to manufacture undetected. However, in the last couple decades the population of rural Midwest areas like rural Iowa have changed dramatically. Largely this is due to the influx of immigrants recruited to better paying jobs at the meat processing plants across the Midwest. Companies recruit from all over the world, help with transport and often with paperwork, and promise them high pay and a low cost of living to change their lives. What they don't do is offer them much support once they get here. So small towns like mine in rural northwest Iowa go from predominantly White, farming areas to becoming a true melting pot in less than a generation. Folks from El Salvador, Guatemala, Sudan, Micronesia, and Southeast Asia are suddenly living and working in a place so very different from what they knew. Often, they don't speak English yet, and they struggle to get by. There are many stressors. Substances such as alcohol are readily available here, in fact alcohol is treated as a celebrated past time. It's a piece of every fabric of life here in America and in other cultures as well. It's part of our sports culture, weddings, divorces, and celebrations. Marijuana is quickly becoming a legal substance, state by state. Meth, though still quite illegal, is also quite available. In fact, many of the people I've worked with in recovery from meth encountered it by chance. They were exhausted, trying to keep up with their work hours, feeling pressure to meet demands all around, and someone made an offer. Or, heard about it at a party and eventually curiosity or desperation got the best of them, and they tried it. No one sets out to suffer from this disease of addiction. (We now refer to addiction as a substance use disorder, it has less stigma and helps people understand it's a disease rather than a choice) No one thinks it will happen to them. Most people understand it's a risk, but I can guarantee you from my own experience that in that moment, you aren't thinking about the risk. You are thinking about making something that feels far worse go away if you're bothering to think at all. Trust me, logic really isn't hanging out with you right then. When it comes to treatment, outpatient or inpatient, there aren't many options out here. This town has two main choices for community mental health care and substance outpatient counseling. To receive inpatient care, you must go a minimum of over an hour away, usually more than two. If you don't have any insurance, you're almost always out of luck entirely because there are very few places that receive enough state funding to comp you. Insured care will net you 28 days of inpatient treatment after an average wait of 2-4 weeks (when it's not terribly busy). If you are an undocumented person, or someone who doesn't speak English very well, or someone with a very different cultural view, or LGBTQ+, I promise you that you really won't feel welcome in the regional rehabs. Not because they don't want you, but because they simply aren't built to accommodate you. In addition to the struggles of accessing inpatient care, there is also the matter of what comes after that. Largely, people are sent right back home to the same situations they came from. Many go back to the same jobs, families, and towns. They are told to go to support meetings such as NA or AA, and to continue outpatient treatment as recommended. What they aren't told is that there is no transportation to the meetings, and there is only one a week in this town. Maybe two. If you want to continue the intensive support you just had 24 hours ago, you'll need to travel a minimum of 20-30 minutes to surrounding towns on various nights of the week to get to their meetings - assuming you still have your license and access to a vehicle. You'll probably wait a couple weeks before you get back in to see your counselor for outpatient work, and then you'll continue with them once per week. In the meantime, you'll go back to work, back to your friends and family (many of whom were problematic to begin with), and you are expected to STAY CLEAN. Don't go to the bars, don't go to parties, don't make bad choices, make sure you don't isolate, don't hang out with those old friends, do this, don't do that, etc. Yet, there are no sober hangouts, it's difficult to access meetings, rural areas don't always have reliable internet for virtual meetings, almost every community activity revolves around alcohol or an establishment that serves alcohol, and your only peer support meetings are AA and NA or sometimes the more Christian-based versions of those. None of this even addresses differences in culture, gender, or sexuality. When people (almost inevitably) stumble and fall in their recovery journey out here, we take away their chips and sober days they somehow carved out despite those obstacles and make them start over. We steep them in shame for their failure and bad choices. They must not have called out for support. they must not have leaned on their network. They must not have been to enough meetings. They must have chosen to hang out with the wrong people or in the wrong place, putting their sobriety in jeopardy. We spend a lot of time as a treatment and recovery industry preaching about stigma and hope, but we are also continuing the very culture of shame we denounce. How can we expect anyone to manage these obstacles while navigating their recovery? Now just imagine how much harder these must be for folks who are also experiencing additional stigma and difficulties related to their disability status, language abilities, or cultural, racial, gender, or sexual identities? |
AuthorGus is a counselor, presenter, and activist working for justice and equity. 
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