Five leaders from across New Jersey’s LGBTQ advocacy landscape gathered for a town hall on Oct. 15 at EDGE New Jersey’s office in Parsippany. They discussed the challenges and strategies defining their work in an increasingly uncertain political climate. They gathered before local community members to address questions that have consumed their communities since the beginning of 2025, the first being: “How do we navigate forward when the ground beneath us feels fundamentally unstable?”
“The simplest way to put it is with just a lot of fear and anxiety,” said Miguel Rivera-Rios, president of the Pride Center of New Jersey, describing the current landscape. “People are getting hit with a lot of new and conflicting information all the time, and they’re not even sure sometimes who they can rely on or trust.”
His sentiment was echoed by every panelist. Dr. Sara Wasserman, queer educator and community organizer at the Bayard Rustin Center for Social Justice, acknowledged the pervasive fear but insisted on reframing the conversation. “There’s another side to it that I think is really important: strength,” she said. “We are incredibly strong. We are showing up, we are here, we are persevering like those who paved the way before us.”
Despite having the privilege of living in New Jersey, which boasts comprehensive nondiscrimination protections and a supportive governor, Elizabeth Schedl, executive director of Hudson Pride Center, warned against complacency. “Sometimes I feel like people in New Jersey might feel like we’re in a bubble and they feel safer than they should,” she cautioned. “The need to vote, the reality that political people still have so much power over what happens to individuals and what rights we have. It’s so important.”
Christian Fuscarino, executive director of Garden State Equality at the time, emphasized the stakes at hand. “The landscape in New Jersey is a battlefield right now,” he declared. Fuscarino emphasized what was at risk; There would be a monumental difference between a governor who would defend LGBTQ rights winning and one who would rubber-stamp federal policies targeting the community.
“We are less than a month away from what will be one of the most defining gubernatorial elections for the LGBTQ community in our state’s history,” Fuscarino said in October. He pointed to the critical role of the attorney general, who is appointed by the governor, in defending school policies, holding law enforcement accountable, and protecting trans students from discriminatory outing policies.
Beyond electoral politics, pride centers face an existential threat to their operations. Schedl shared Hudson Pride Center’s harrowing experience with a federal grant. It represented half their budget and was abruptly canceled the day it was supposed to start, just after they’d opened a second location in June.
Though their funding was eventually restored, the experience forced unwanted changes. The organizations are now rewriting grants, scrubbing language that might trigger federal scrutiny. An “LGBTQ wellness grant” becomes simply a “wellness grant.” A “trans health program” is now a “health program.” Joann McEniry, EDGE New Jersey’s CEO, described the painful compromise. “It felt like such a values issue. It felt like being forced back into the closet,” she said of changing grant language. But with 80 people depending on their housing program, there was only one choice: adapt or fail those they serve.
The Continuum of Care program funding conversation revealed another troubling development; Federal officials suggested that acknowledging more than two genders in applications could result in denial of housing funds. Twenty-one people could lose housing at EDGE alone if they don’t comply.
“There’s a housing crisis in New Jersey,” Schedl noted, “and every community feels it differently.”
Despite these pressures, the centers continue their essential work. Housing emerges as the most critical need across all organizations. “There’s a housing crisis in New Jersey,” Schedl noted, “and every community feels it differently.” For LGBTQ people, the shortage is compounded by discrimination and the lack of safe, affirming spaces. Mental health services follow close behind. “The need for mental health services amongst people in our community in these times — there are not enough providers to meet the needs,” Schedl explained. The barriers multiply when considering the scarcity of queer-affirming, multilingual providers who accept various insurance plans.
The Pride Center of New Jersey, entirely volunteer-run for over 30 years, offered a perspective on how they can continue to work under pressure. Rivera-Rios explained their philosophy, “The Pride Center cannot be anyone’s top priority. With everything going on in the world, that’s just a recipe for burnout.”
Instead, they focus on creating moments of authentic joy. They offer activities such as Halloween parties, D&D groups, and spaces where people can “leave all that at the door and really just focus on living their authentic selves.”
Audience members also contributed to the discussion on the immediate problem of healthcare access. Pride centers were receiving calls from parents concerned about providers suddenly refusing gender-affirming care for children, driven by fear of federal repercussions. The list of available affirming providers is shrinking. “What does it look like to be a family with a child that has begun gender-affirming care and potentially will not be able to continue that care for three years?” Fuscarino asked. “There’s no clear plan on what to do in that moment.”
Some families are already facing difficult decisions. McEniry mentioned conversations with parents seriously contemplating leaving New Jersey for California or seeking care internationally. Panelists and audience members highlighted that these were options available only to those with means.
Kate Okeson raised a question about how pride centers can bridge the years when young people are becoming independent but are not quite yet adults.
Youth programming emerged as both a priority and a challenge. Kate Okeson from the governor’s advisory commission on LGBTQ youth raised a question about how pride centers can bridge the years when young people are becoming independent but are not quite yet adults. The centers’ approaches vary but share common themes. Hudson Pride’s YouthConnect serves ages 13-24, offering everything from weekly social support groups to sleep-away camps and free mental health services that bypass insurance barriers. The Pride Center of New Jersey has no lower age limit and empowers youth to direct their own programming, voting on activities and organizing initiatives like healthy relationship workshops.
Wasserman reframed the conversation, saying, “It’s about how we view children. How can we be in community together? How can we build something together based on what you bring to the table, based on what I bring?” Fuscarino noted the importance of a systemic approach. All programming becomes moot if youth can’t be safe at school. Students need an attorney general willing to defend anti-discrimination laws against hostile school boards.
When asked what gives them hope, each leader pointed to community resilience. McEniry noted the power of seeing people show up at events like the town hall itself. Schedl drew inspiration from her two-year-old daughter, hoping to create a world where the next generation faces less fear. Wasserman finds hope in her daily work: “I get to meet people every single day who are genuinely good people who are in the fight with me, with us, alongside us.”
Rivera-Rios emphasized the volunteers who show up after their regular jobs, understanding the burden on them but choosing to stay and fight. “That’s what brings me hope,” he said. “I see people making the decision every day to do that thing, whatever that is.” Fuscarino’s hope is more pointed; he believes that after the election, they can return to the future-focused work interrupted by the current crisis. “That’s what I hope,” he said. “That we can stay focused on liberation, on what it means to be in an LGBTQ organization, what accountability looks like to your neighbor and to yourself.”
When an audience member asked about backup plans if the gubernatorial election backfires, the responses revealed the community’s fundamental philosophy. “We’re not going anywhere,” Wasserman said simply. “We will continue to fight. We will continue to organize, we will continue to advocate.”
Fuscarino emphasized that they don’t have a backup plan, they have a plan. “It’s been our plan since the HIV and AIDS epidemic began when the federal government turned their backs on our community,” he said. “There’s no more resilient community that I can think of than this community.”
As the town hall concluded, McEniry reminded the audience that they are the community these organizations serve. The work happens in partnerships, in showing up at doors, in staying connected through social media and websites, in refusing to let fear win. “We are a community and we can’t do it without you,” she said. “We’re all in this together.” In a time when fear is the dominant emotion, New Jersey’s LGBTQ leaders are offering something harder than comfort. They provide honest assessment, strategic action, and the resilient strength that has always defined their community’s survival.
