The Three-wattled Bellbird, like other Central and South American bellbirds in the Cotinga family, is a natural history paradox. Breeding males perch on exposed branches and sing one of the loudest songs of any bird, impossible to ignore and audible from more than half a mile away. However, despite this extremely conspicuous breeding season behavior, females and nonbreeding males are notoriously difficult to observe, foraging in the higher levels of the canopy and remaining remarkably silent. As a result, this species has been subject to fascinating and in-depth studies of its song and courtship behavior, but some of the most basic aspects of its natural history are unknown. For instance, only two nests have been recorded, one in 1975 and one in 2012, and no eggs or young have been documented.
But biologists have learned a great deal from studying the Three-wattled Bellbird’s song. The bellbirds belong to a group of perching birds known as the suboscines, which also includes tyrant flycatchers like the Western Kingbird and antbirds, such as the Marsh Antwren. While the “true” songbirds (or oscines) are famous for their song-learning abilities, suboscine songs are classically considered to be completely innate, with no learning taking place. However, the Three-wattled Bellbird shares an important feature with birds that learn their songs: dialects. Birds from Nicaragua sound noticeably different from Costa Rican birds in the Cordillera de Talamanca and the Cordillera de Tilarán, which each host populations with distinct songs. (snip-MORE)
I had my allergy shots this morning. Ron and Diane have gone to see if they can find the casino in the next county over. I am trying to stay awake. I want to see if I can reply to a few comments before going back to bed. Fof those that don’t know I am not eating. I have one meal in the morning and spend most of my time in bed these days. My blood tests showed my red and white blood cells were all messed up. Animia? Cancer? Depression? My body breaks down under stress, and I have been stressed since November of last year. It is a lot less right now with Ron home but he still has little time for stuff at home because of the need to spend so much time with his sister. Plus he is having health issues as well. The real issue is I am tired. Just so tired I am unable to think, eat, or even engage with Ron. I find I am easily irritated, and when he reached out to touch me in bed I snaped at him for it. I have not reacted that way in a long time. I like his touch. I have lost between 8 to 10 pounds because I am not eating. I keep this up and I could get from my normal 170 t the goal of 150 pounds I want. 😀😃😉😎. Ron is concerned and says if we don’t see improvement next week I have to contact my primary care doctor. It all seems like too much work, I just want to go back to bed. The pain is less there. My right leg becomes so painful after five minutes of use I can’t really walk and I have to do the dishes with a rolling very high adjustable stool.
Anyway the video below is a great example of why real Christians are not bigots. I wish I felt up to posting more videos, it is all I seem able to do right now, just watch videos. Be well, and enjoy the Rev. explain why bigotry is a really bad thing for the Christian church. Hugs
Judge’s repeal of Trump ban on gender-affirming care for children ‘a meaningful win for patients’, experts say
A federal judge overturned the Trump administration’s ban on gender-affirming care for children on Saturday, decrying Robert F Kennedy Jr’s “wanton disregard” for the law that “causes very real harm to very real people”.
It’s another loss for Kennedy’s agenda as secretary for the US Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) under the second Trump administration – an agenda that has focused on restricting healthcare, including vaccines, abortion and gender-affirming care.
A different legal decision recently halted the agency’s attempt to raze vaccine recommendations, and new research and regulatory decisions have undermined controversial announcements by Trump and Kennedy on autism.
“Unserious leaders are unsafe,” Mustafa T Kasubhai, a US district judge in Oregon wrote in the opening to his final judgment on the gender-affirming care case, a 49-page decision that excoriated the administration for disregarding the law and overreach in its regulations. The judge also barred the administration from implementing similar policies under any other names to restrict care nationally by withholding funding.
Shannon Minter, legal director of the National Center for LGBTQ Rights, called the ruling “incredibly powerful” and “far-reaching”.
“It enjoins them from doing anything to interfere with the authority of states to regulate medical practice,” Minter said.
For healthcare providers and families who have been in limbo for months, “this is a huge, huge step forward”, said Jan Oosting, an associate professor of nursing at City University of New York (Cuny).
Khadijah Silver, director of gender justice and health equity at Lawyers for Good Government, who uses they and them pronouns, said they were “so overwhelmingly ecstatic” and “couldn’t actually process” that the ruling “was real life”.
In December, Kennedy announced that any health system providing pediatric gender-affirming care would be suspended from receiving Medicaid and Medicare funding. Medicaid and Medicare would also be banned from paying for any gender-affirming care, he said.
As nearly all major hospitals and health systems rely on Medicaid and Medicare, the proposed rule amounted to a ban on gender-affirming care for children, setting a precedent for the government limiting healthcare for any patients.
At the same time, Kennedy issued a declaration invoking a regulation to allow the HHS to exclude healthcare providers from Medicaid and Medicare when the providers no longer “meet professionally recognized standards of healthcare”. Unusually, the new rule was enforced immediately, without going through the usual rule-making process, including public comment.
Gender-affirming care often includes puberty blockers and hormones, but can also involve psychosocial support and, very rarely and after extensive medical consultation, surgery. It is widely agreed to be essential to the health of gender-expansive individuals. The Kennedy declaration claimed pediatric gender-affirming care for minors was “neither safe nor effective” and therefore fell below these standards.
Declarations like these are meant to be used for emergencies when the HHS needs to communicate the steps it’s taking to protect public health, Silver said, who added: “They have never once been abused in such a fashion to go against standards of medical care that are widely accepted … let alone to override the state’s primary authority in the regulation of medicine.”
Minter said: “This was an attempt by the federal government to impose a national ban and usurp the authority of states to regulate medical practice within their borders.”
Within eight days, the HHS general counsel, Mike Stuart, began referring health systems to the HHS office of inspector general for violating the new policy. The decision included several screenshots of posts from Stuart celebrating referrals of health systems for violating the rule.
At least 40 health systems have said the threat of losing federal funding is why they stopped providing care in recent weeks. Oregon and 21 other states sued the administration. In response, the US government argued that the Kennedy declaration was merely an individual’s personal opinion.
When the judge overturned the declaration, he called this argument “a bald-faced lie” and an attempt to “bully or gaslight” the court. The judge said the Kennedy declaration was “clearly unlawful” because it violated administrative law and the Medicare statute that forbids federal officials from exercising “any supervision or control over the practice of medicine or the manner in which medical services are provided”.
Following the judge’s preliminary injunction against the new rule in March, Children’s Minnesota began offering gender-affirming care again.
When another health system, Children’s Hospital Colorado, ceased care, patients and families sued the hospital. The case is currently before the Colorado supreme court, where judges have expressed concerns that forcing the hospital to resume care could bring federal backlash, endangering even more children. Silver noted that reversing the federal ban now could change the outcome of that case.
“This should be a huge relief and a tremendous source of protection” for families and children whose care was delayed or disrupted, Minter said. When health systems announced they would comply in advance with the directive and stop providing gender-affirming care, often effective immediately, it was “shocking and appalling behavior”, he said, but this decision “should remove that fear” and allow the care to resume.
Oosting noted that the “biggest source of fear, which was the threat of losing Medicare and Medicaid funding, is removed now, so I think that there will be reassessment by each individual hospital of what programs are going to be put back into play, what programs will have to be modified”. That’s especially true in states like New York that have laws against discrimination in healthcare, she said.
The proposed rule preventing Medicaid and Medicare from paying for gender-affirming care is also blocked by this decision, Minter said. The rule did not come before the judge because it hasn’t been finalized, but Minter reads the ruling as “effectively prohibiting those rules from being enforced as well”.
Challenges still exist for children who need gender-affirming care but may not be able to access it.
“Although this removes a major federal barrier, it doesn’t erase those state-level restrictions,” Oosting said. Some states have introduced bans on the care. In Ohio, the state’s supreme court will rule on whether a ban is constitutional in coming months.
Some families in states with bans or gaps in healthcare are once again able to access care by moving or traveling out of state – a “burdensome”, disruptive and expensive process, but an “important” one, Minter said.
Overturning the ban was a “meaningful win for patients and providers and, honestly, for healthcare integrity in the US”, Oosting said. It lessens fear and uncertainty around seeking and providing care, and it shows that “major changes in healthcare policy have to follow the law,” Oosting said – which has repercussions for other politicized changes to health regulations, like limitations on abortion. It was “a powerful tool to stop the federal government from that type of attempted overreach” in healthcare, Minter said.
The decision reinforces the fact that “the federal government can’t use Medicare and Medicaid restriction as a blunt-force instrument to control care and access to people’s bodies,” Oosting said. It’s significant not just for making gender-affirming care available again but also because it sets “the rules of the road – how far the federal government can go in terms of influencing what’s happening in a patient exam room”, she said.
It’s really as bad as it was before VAWA ever existed; of course it’s not been renewed for several years now thanks to transphobic Republican legislators. I apologize for both articles being here in full; that is how the source-The 19th-formats their sharing. It’s nice most of the time, but now here’s a long post.
In abusive relationships, the end can be the most dangerous part
Two tragedies, in Virginia and Louisiana, highlight the peril that some women and children face during divorce or separation.
This story was originally reported by Barbara Rodriguez, Mariel Padilla and Jasmine Mithani of The 19th. Meet Barbara, Mariel and Jasmine and read more of their reporting on gender, politics and policy.
Two deadly high-profile domestic violence cases this month highlight how the most dangerous part of a relationship can be when it is ending — particularly for women and families, and especially if guns are involved.
And on Sunday, a gunman in Shreveport, Louisiana, killed eight children and injured two women in what authorities described as the deadliest mass shooting in the United States in more than two years. Authorities say the gunman killed seven of his children and shot his wife. He also injured a woman who is the mother to three of his slain children. The gunman, who had been scheduled to appear in court as part of separation proceedings, had recently told his stepfather that he was suicidal.
Partners who express suicidal ideation can create heightened dangers for women and families, said Jacquelyn Campbell, a professor at Johns Hopkins University School of Nursing who has studied domestic violence and homicide for decades.
“That desperation, especially combined with access to guns, can be a recipe for tragedy,” she said.
A family attends a candlelight vigil on April 19, 2026 in Shreveport, Louisiana after authorities said a gunman killed eight children and injured two women during a shooting spree that spanned at least three locations. (Brandon Bell/Getty Images)
Every month on average, more than 70 women are shot and killed by an intimate partner, according to Everytown for Gun Safety, the largest gun violence prevention organization in the United States. Everytown gathered a focus group of 43 survivors of this type of violence last year, and 50 percent of participants said separation or divorce was a circumstance leading up to attempted intimate partner homicide-suicide.
The available data emphasizes the vulnerability of that time, said Sonali Rajan, senior director of research at Everytown for Gun Safety.
“At the point when a woman is choosing to try and leave a violent and abusive partner, husband — especially when there are children involved — it means that the violence has escalated for some time,” she said.
Between 2014 and 2020, the organization tracked intimate partner homicide-suicides and found 5,450 women were killed. In 85 percent of these incidents, a firearm was the primary weapon. When there is a firearm involved, the abuser — which is a man in 99 percent of cases — is five times more likely to kill the victim, according to the research.
“It’s heartbreaking,” Rajan said. “These are just such devastating instances of violence. Something that, to me, is a really important through line is the presence of a firearm. So I think that’s really important to note and underscore — having a firearm present in the moment of escalation can and often is deadly.”
Intimate partner violence disproportionately impacts women of color and their families: Black, American Indian and Alaska Native women are victims of intimate partner firearm homicide at the highest rates, according to Everytown. Black women, for instance, are 3.5 times more likely to be fatally shot by an intimate partner compared to White women.
Authorities say former Lt. Gov. Justin Fairfax fatally shot his wife, Dr. Cerina Fairfax, while the two were in the midst of a divorce. (Dr. Fairfax & Associates Family Dentistry)
In Louisiana, the killings occurred during a shooting spree that spanned at least three locations, according to the police. Authorities identified the gunman as 31-year-old Shamar Elkins, the father of seven of the eight dead children, whose ages range from 3 to 11. Elkins also wounded his wife, Shaneiqua Pugh, and Christina Snow, before dying in a shootout with police officers.
Rajan said children are especially impacted by intimate partner violence, particularly when firearms are involved. Nearly 1 in 10 incidents of intimate partner homicide-suicide also involve the murder of the family’s children, according to Everytown. And for children under 13 who are victims of gun homicide, nearly one-third of those instances are connected directly to intimate partner or family violence.
“The ripple effects of firearms in the hands of an abuser extend far beyond the intimate relationship itself,” she said.
Doreen Dodgen-Magee, a volunteer with Moms Demand Action and a survivor who lost her sister-in-law and three nieces to intimate partner violence, said children are often involved in domestic violence situations — and that impact has ripple effects through generations and across communities. Her sister-in-law had filed for divorce before being killed.
“I think about the way in which my nieces died and their last experiences, and the way in which their classmates who live down the street — some of them witnessed this as it happened on the front lawn,” said Dodgen-Magee, who also spent years caring for her mother-in-law after she witnessed the deaths and suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. “How the brain of a child tries to make sense of that, it’s unimaginable.”
Campbell said she also worries about the long-term mental health of children impacted by the recent gun violence, including a child who survived the Louisiana shooting by jumping off a roof.
An outside view of former Virginia Lt. Gov. Justin Fairfax’s home in Annandale, Virginia, on April 16, 2026. (Celal Gunes/Anadolu/Getty Images)
In Virginia, two teenage children were home when Justin Fairfax killed Cerina Fairfax and himself. Justin Fairfax served as lieutenant governor from 2018 to 2022 and faced sexual assault allegations in 2019. He denied wrongdoing, but family said the 47-year-old’s mental health unraveled after that. Court records show his wife filed for divorce in 2025 — though they still lived in the same home — after nearly 20 years of marriage. The former couple’s teenage son called 911 to report the shooting.
Those shootings follow the April 1 death of Nancy Metayer, the vice mayor of Coral Springs, Florida. Metayer was widely seen as a rising star in Florida Democratic politics. An activist and environmental scientist, the 38-year-old was the first Black and Haitian American woman member of the Coral Springs City Commission, elected in 2020 and reelected in 2024 before being appointed to serve a second term as vice mayor, according to the city website. According to police, Metayer was found fatally shot in her home, and her husband is charged with premeditated murder. The incident was described as “domestic in nature.” U.S. Rep. Jared Moskowitz said in the aftermath of her fatal shooting that he was “in shock” and that Metayer was about to announce a bid for Congress.
March for Our Lives, a youth-led organization that advocates for stricter gun control legislation and founded by students after the 2018 mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Florida, said these recent incidents “underscore a truth this country refuses to face head-on; Black Americans are carrying an outsized and relentless burden in the gun violence crisis.”
“From children like those killed in Shreveport, to Black women facing lethal domestic violence, to families living with daily exposure to shootings that never make national news, the toll is staggering and systemic,” the organization said. “This is what a public health crisis looks like when it is allowed to persist in Black communities.”
Ujima, the national center on violence against women in the Black community, said “the frequency of these tragedies demands attention.”
“Grief alone is not enough,” Ujima said in a statement. “We must remain focused on prevention, early intervention and ensuring families have access to the support they need before harm escalates.”
The high-profile incidents show the necessity of a robust response to intimate partner violence, which impacts more than 1 in 3 women and 1 in 6 men across their lifetimes. But government efforts are chronically underfunded and now understaffed: The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Division of Violence Prevention housed units dedicated to stopping firearms deaths, suicide and domestic violence before they happen — but the division was decimated last year.
Nancy Metayer, the vice mayor of Coral Springs, Florida, was found fatally shot in her home on April 1, and her husband has been charged with premeditated murder, police said. (Nancy Metayer Campaign)
There have been significant disruptions in the federal government’s response to domestic violence as a public safety issue as well. The Department of Justice is the largest funder of domestic violence services across the country, with $713 million appropriated to the Office on Violence Against Women last year. This money goes toward a variety of services assisting survivors of gender-based violence. But as of this month, $200 million in taxpayer funds is gathering dust instead of helping survivors. Money from this year, $720 million, doesn’t look to be coming any time soon either.
Everytown advocates for a four-part domestic violence approach, which includes background checks on gun sales, prohibiting people convicted of misdemeanor domestic abuse from possessing firearms, requiring prohibited people to turn in their guns and barring gun purchases if a background check takes longer than three business days. Rajan said states with laws that keep guns out of the hands of abusers see lower rates of homicide and suicide among intimate partners.
“The moment that the survivor seeks legal assistance — often another time of heightened risk — it makes it even more crucial that laws to remove firearms from homes with domestic violence are effectively implemented,” she said.
Campbell noted the importance of laws that allow for the temporary removal of a firearm from an individual if they pose a risk to themselves or others. Extreme risk protective orders (ERPO), known as red flag laws, have been enacted in 22 states and the District of Columbia. Louisiana is not one of them.
But there is a 2020 ERPO law in Virginia that is supposed to prevent individuals who pose a substantial danger from possessing or purchasing firearms — which Campbell said shows how families still fall through the cracks. She said stakeholders, from family members to police departments to divorce lawyers, can play a role.
“Lots of people go through divorces just fine, but families where things are really fraught, where somebody’s desperate — they need to be able to recognize that possibility,” she said.
For those who are currently in dangerous domestic violence situations, Campbell recommended seeking help by calling the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-7233 or by texting BEGIN to 88788.
She also recommended the myPlan app, a free tool designed by Johns Hopkins University, to help survivors of relationship abuse create personalized safety plans in a discreet way. The app is also a helpful resource for those unsure if they’re in a safe relationship.
Rajan added that if you or someone you know is in suicidal crisis or emotional distress to call or text 988 or visit 988lifeline.org/chat to speak with a counselor. The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, previously known as the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, provides 24/7 free and confidential support.
After her family members were killed, Dodgen-Magee said, she found journal entries where her sister-in-law had written that she feared for her life and where she wanted her kids to go if she was murdered by her husband. Still, Dodgen-Magee said that when her sister-in-law told people in her community, including church pastors, that she was afraid, she was dismissed as overreacting and told to stay in the relationship.
On a societal level, Dodgen-Magee said there needs to be a shift: “Believe women when they tell you that they are in danger.”
Domestic violence organizations turn away thousands each day. Julia was one of them.
An already underfunded system is under even more stress, as cases have gotten more complex and the Trump administration has sown confusion.
Content warning: This story references incidents of domestic violence.
On January 18, 2025, Julia Gilbert kicked her fiancé out of their shared apartment.
“When the apartment door shut, I remember knowing it was right,” she said.
Gilbert, 32, said she had planned to end the relationship for some time. Worried her ex was lying to her, she had been recording their arguments at her therapist’s suggestion. A week after he left, she filed a petition for a harassment restraining order (HRO), which requires the respondent to limit communication and in-person contact. In Minnesota, where she lives, residents can fill out a petition online without an attorney.
In her January 26 statement justifying the HRO, she alleged physical, financial, sexual and psychological abuse. Her ex had unprotected sex with her without her permission, Gilbert said. After experiencing intense pain and heavy bleeding, she went to the doctor. Medical records viewed by The 19th with her consent say the bleeding could have been a miscarriage.
She wrote in her HRO petition that after she texted him to say she did not want him to come to the apartment alone, he replied, “I can always come when I want.” She said her relief at the end of the relationship quickly turned into panic about the situation.
“I am scared for my physical and emotional safety and have been unable to relax for days and now am even more frightened in light of this text message from him,” she wrote.
Gilbert’s ex did not respond to multiple requests for comment. This article is based on public court documents, emails, phone logs and extensive interviews with Gilbert.
The HRO was granted in January. Gilbert’s ex contested the restraining order four days after being served, triggering a court hearing in front of a judge. Gilbert had to get a lawyer in two months or face him in court alone.
It felt like a daunting task: Gilbert had moved to Hennepin County, home to Minneapolis, several years ago, away from southern Minnesota where most of her friends and family still lived. She didn’t have a strong support network beyond her two cats, Kato and Scully. She had been relying on buy now, pay later plans and support from her parents, who didn’t really have money to spare, to afford groceries and rent.
Gilbert’s petition said she wanted to file a police report but was scared to go to the station herself because of personal connections her ex had within the department. Some Hennepin County domestic violence organizations said on their websites they could escort survivors to the police station, but Gilbert said that when she inquired, she was told those services weren’t offered anymore.
She was disappointed she couldn’t make a police report, but Gilbert was still confident the judge would side with her; she had photographs of bruises and a recording of her ex admitting to unprotected sex without her consent, according to an evidence list submitted as part of the hearing. Also known as stealthing, it’s recognized as a form of sexual violence in some states, but there are no laws against it in Minnesota.
This chaos strained a system that is already under-resourced. Part of why Gilbert was shocked that it was so hard to get help was because she had gone through this all before, with radically different results.
Julia Gilbert says she was looking for housing and employment while also seeking legal representation for her HRO hearing as she dealt with the aftermath of ending a years-long relationship. She wants to be able to keep her cat Kato. (Caroline Yang for The 19th)
Years ago, Gilbert obtained an HRO against a different ex. After the couple broke up, she said, she found her tires slashed and called the police. At the time, she lived in Mankato, a town of 46,000 located 80 miles south of the Twin Cities. She said an officer listened to her whole story and introduced her to that county’s local domestic violence services agency. (The organization did not respond to multiple requests for comment.) There, advocates helped her file the petition, connected her with an attorney, helped her secure a restraining order and supported her through a draining legal battle. In her victim impact statement, she said what she went through not only during the relationship but the legal process afterward caused lasting post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
But by 2025, circumstances had changed, and not just because of the Trump administration. The pandemic saw a surge in domestic violence reports, especially during lockdown, putting stress on an underfunded system.
The scale of intimate partner violence before the pandemic was already staggering. At least 47 percent of women and 44 percent of men have experienced domestic violence at some point in their lifetime, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention from 2017, the most recent available. Women are more likely to experience sexual violence and severe physical violence. Queer people, like Gilbert, are more likely than straight people to experience relationship abuse.
The full impact of the pandemic on domestic violence rates is still being researched, but several studies have shown increases of 21 to 35 percent.
The pandemic multiplied stressors on organizations that long depended on in-person work, and lockdown forced the suspension of some services. Demands for housing rose astronomically while shelters shuttered to reduce spread of the virus. Funding shortages meant that even when the world opened up again, offerings temporarily put on hold weren’t able to return.
Many organizations were buoyed by temporary funds from the American Rescue Plan Act of 2021, but those expired in 2025. Demand didn’t disappear the way that money did. Economic stress has long been correlated with increased rates of domestic violence, and the affordability crisis brought on by the pandemic didn’t cease once the country reopened.
Survivors’ needs have increased since the pandemic, said Nikki Engel, the co-executive director of Violence Free Minnesota, the domestic violence coalition that helps coordinate strategy for 90 service providers throughout the state. Some of those programs have only one or two staff members.
“The numbers of people they’re serving every year may have stayed flat, or even gone down a little bit, but they’re spending more time with each victim, and each victim has more holistic and complicated needs,” Engel said. Advocates who would have been able to help six or seven victims file for orders of protection each day now have the capacity to assist only two or three with intricate housing, food and legal needs.
This tracks with what Gilbert described over months of interviews. Immediately after ending the relationship last year, she said, she went from needing help with her rent to help with a new lease to help with groceries when her EBT card stopped working. She was looking for work compatible with her disability and searching for cheaper housing to no avail. It felt impossible to address all of her issues at once. She was juggling everything while seeking legal representation for her HRO hearing, on top of dealing with the aftermath of ending a years-long relationship.
“When my food and housing and those base level things aren’t being met, I can’t even begin to work on healing the trauma to move forward,” Gilbert said.
A stack of belongings left by her ex takes up significant space in Julia Gilbert’s home. (Caroline Yang for The 19th)
Legal services for domestic violence cases, which can span family, civil and criminal courts, are highly specialized and sparse. Not only that, but the demand for them has increased since the onset of the pandemic. Engel said programs have reported a “huge increase in post-separation abuse,” which can involve abusers dragging survivors through the legal system, wasting survivors’ time and racking up fees.
Gilbert’s call log, viewed by The 19th, shows how much effort she put into trying to secure representation in the weeks between the HRO filing and the hearing. She used a free state hotline to try to locate a lawyer but said she kept hitting voicemails and dead ends. The few firms she managed to reach said they weren’t interested in an HRO case. She called the hotlines for help but was referred to the same organizations she had already tried.
Advocates at domestic violence services organizations aren’t lawyers and typically assist survivors with self-service filing for orders of protection or restraining orders. Only a couple of programs in the state can afford to have attorneys on staff to work with victims, Engel said. Abusers are more likely to be financially advantaged and able to afford their own legal support, another power imbalance.
Gilbert needed an attorney who could show up next to her in court, like she had the last time she fought for an HRO.
After she called over 30 law firms, per her phone records, a family friend referred her to a practice. Her parents helped her pay for representation. But, she said, she felt unprepared going into the remote hearing.
It was a disaster for Gilbert: The transcript shows her ex’s lawyer aggressively cross-examining her, casting doubt on her account of physical abuse and bringing up her mental health issues. Gilbert feels her lawyer didn’t adequately intervene during hostile questioning. At one point, the transcript shows the judge scolded Gilbert’s counsel for checking her phone during the hearing.
In an order for dismissal, the judge ruled that Gilbert and her ex had a “mutual lack of boundaries” and said testimony did not meet the criteria for an HRO. The restraining order was overturned, and Gilbert’s ex was free to contact her again.
“It was humiliating, I had been getting back on my feet and trying to do things to put my life back together after all of this, and then following that court date, it was like I just fell apart again,” Gilbert said. She said she still has nightmares about the hearing.
Legal assistance is a bottleneck at many organizations. Artika Roller, the executive director at Cornerstone Minnesota, one of the largest domestic violence service providers in the Twin Cities metro area, said a pro bono attorney volunteers once a month to help with complex cases. The demand is overwhelming, so her group frequently ends up referring to outside legal services that don’t necessarily have expertise in domestic violence cases.
After the HRO was overturned, Gilbert found a lawyer to help her with a possible appeal. But she felt dismissed by the attorney; he minimized her assault and didn’t understand why she didn’t want her ex to come back into the apartment to pick up his belongings. Discouraged, Gilbert did not file an appeal.
“At a certain point how do you keep the hope alive?” Gilbert said, reflecting on the labyrinthine process of seeking help for survivors. “How do you keep the flame alive when you keep getting directed in circles?”
Gilbert had been calling the various domestic violence and sexual assault hotlines periodically since before the breakup. In May, a couple of weeks after the hearing, she said, she dialed the number for the National Domestic Violence Hotline once again. She was sympathetic to the strain on advocates. Gilbert says she knew they cared about her and wanted to help. But she was also frustrated and had started to see news articles about funding cuts impacting domestic violence organizations. She began to wonder if these changes had trickled down to her. She decided to record the next call, hoping to get some answers. When Gilbert told the advocate how hard it had been to get help, the advocate on the other side of the phone offered some surprising information.
“Unfortunately, not just the funding is being affected for a lot of organizations that handle domestic violence,” the advocate said on the recording, which Gilbert shared with The 19th. “Unfortunately, executive orders have also made it difficult, or stopped funding, or made it to where organizations have to stop doing things or addressing certain things in order to continue the funding.”
“It is a very difficult time right now,” the advocate continued. “So I’m sorry that you have to experience that.”
Katie Ray-Jones, the CEO of The National Domestic Violence Hotline, confirmed in a statement to The 19th that many local organizations were forced to lay off staff and temporarily shut down last year.
She also underscored the massive demand for the organization’s services. “We receive nearly 3,000 calls and messages per day from survivors in need — and no survivor in need should be left alone. And yet, the reality is that the national response to domestic violence overall has historically been overburdened and under-resourced.”
Ray-Jones shared that The Hotline was able to assist with 708,000 calls for help in 2025 — but received 1.3 million requests. Federal funding for the nonprofit has stayed stagnant since 2024, and The Hotline needs at least an additional $20 million to meet the scale of demand, she said.
She did not address the executive orders directly. (The Hotline remains operational, as do many domestic violence services across the nation. Confidential, anonymous help is available 24/7 through 1-800-799-7233 or online.)
Julia Gilbert tried to secure representation in the two months between filing a harassment restraining order against her ex and the hearing but says she kept hitting voicemails and dead ends. (Caroline Yang for The 19th)
The Violence Against Women Act, last renewed in 2022, allows Congress to put $1.1 billion each year toward programs addressing domestic violence, sexual assault and stalking. But since its original passage in 1994, VAWA program funding has rarely approached authorized levels — for fiscal 2025, appropriations totaled $713 million.
The other main source of funding comes through the Victims of Crime Act, which allocates non-taxpayer money gathered from fines instituted on federal cases. But these funds have dwindled since 2018, as prosecutors declined to pursue as many cases against white-collar crime that would top off the money pot. A 2021 bill funneled some money to the associated fund, but it wasn’t enough. Attempts since then to close the funding gap have largely stalled in Congress.
Less money means less staff for roles that are already typically low-paying and require specialized training. Many in the advocacy field have personal experience with domestic violence and are dedicated to the cause, but it is intense work prone to burnout.
It also means fewer dollars to support survivors. Each year, the National Network to End Domestic Violence tracks how many victims are served by domestic violence advocates over a single 24-hour period. In 2025, the count was 84,146. And on the same day, 13,018 people weren’t able to be helped due to a lack of staffing, funding or other resources.
Violence Free Minnesota pointed out that the share of survivors who weren’t able to receive help nearly tripled from 2024 to 2025, to 29 percent.
“We don’t know what’s going to happen on a day to day, week to week basis with our funding,” Roller said, due to the uncertainty from the Trump administration. Combined with changes in annual funding, that means hard conversations about which programs need to be cut back.
“There is no other funding source that provides the amount of funding that we get from the government,” she said. Cornerstone has some individual and philanthropic donors, but Roller said donations dropped in 2025 amid economic uncertainty.
Minnesota does offer significant funding to domestic violence services to supplement federal funds, but the amount was stagnant for nearly a decade. Asks for more money from legislators have been denied, Roller said.
Violence Free Minnesota has seen providers hemorrhage advocates to jobs at places like Walmart and McDonald’s because they can pay more, said Katie Kramer, the organization’s other co-executive director.
And the services that are meant to protect women aren’t being funded, contrary to the Trump administration’s professed priorities, with potentially deadly consequences.
“The ultimate thing is that we were never funded at capacity, and this is going to impact peoples’ lives,” Roller said. “Organizations like ours are providing life-saving services, and we will lose people because of the inability to provide support.”
Under a proposed 2027 budget, the Minnesota Office of Justice Programs would cut victim services funding by about 20 percent, or $12 million. The shortfall is being blamed on the perpetual gaps in annual grants from the federal Victims of Crime Act funds.
Roller has been pouring her energy this year into advocating for Minnesota House File 1082, which would use state money to make up for the missing $12 million in federal dollars. Violence Free Minnesota has also testified in support of the bill.
The one-year anniversary of the breakup hit Gilbert hard this past January.
“I feel like I am in the exact same place a year later, and that wouldn’t be the case if I had just gotten the help that I needed to begin with,” she said.
She constantly grapples with her PTSD and has struggled to stay grounded. The nonstop media coverage of documents related to sex offender Jeffery Epstein — the revelations of who was involved, the lack of accountability, the constant discussions of sexual assault — sent her spiraling.
“They just don’t give a shit about survivors,” she said, referring to the Trump administration. Her physical and mental health deteriorated, and, in February, she was hospitalized for several days.
The past year has altered her worldview. Gilbert has become much more cynical; she was never a fan of the Trump administration, but now she’s lost faith in institutions more broadly.
Her health worsened again in March and she temporarily moved in with her parents. Now she is back in her apartment, but she may not be able to stay there much longer.
When she made the decision to break up with her fiancé, Gilbert had no idea she would be in danger of losing her housing or that she’d no longer be able to afford three meals a day. But she says she would make the choice to leave again, even knowing all the hardship that would come after.
“Even though this year has been probably the hardest year in my entire life, and it’s a struggle every day, I would not take it back for a second. The decision to leave him was the best decision I ever made.”
She finally feels like she’s getting the space to heal. She wants to become a mother one day and is mourning her suspected miscarriage even as she’s grateful she isn’t tied to her ex with a child. She’s also looking for a therapist who specializes in trauma. Gilbert thinks if she can calm her nervous system down, she can secure steady work and maybe finally find cheaper housing.
She has been looking for more affordable apartments, but Minnesota is in a housing crisis. Time is running out. All of the options that would let her stay in her apartment don’t work: She doesn’t want to keep her ex on the lease, her income isn’t enough to qualify for an annual lease on her own and the month-to-month price is unaffordable.
She contacted tenants rights groups for help, but she said they couldn’t do anything; VAWA only provides protections for survivors who need to break their leases, not for those trying to stay. Gilbert doesn’t understand why there aren’t protections that would let her stay. She has resorted to crowdfunding to meet her basic needs.
This video explains what everyone on the real left already knew instead of forgetting the trans / woke culture wars and moving right, the center left keeps demanding which is simply code speak for leaning right. While all the same democratic strategists since the Bill Clinton days demand candidates move to the right to “triangulate” to capture republican voters these polls show what we already knew. The culture wars are losing for the republicans. After republicans spent nearly 3 million dollars in ads against trans people the polls showed almost no one felt those adverts influenced their vote. Even as red states rail against higher education, acceptance, and tolerance of people who are different it is losing them votes. Some thing the Christian nationalists who are in the height of their influence now in political circles don’t understand is that people who grew up with LGBTQ+ classmates, friends, and even dated some do not find them the evil that these hate religions preach they are.
*** Personal note. I explained to Ali in an email that I am not functioning. For what ever reason wheither it be anemia or something worse I am desperately tired from the time I manage to get up. I often get up only to a few hours later go back to bed for four or more hours. I have started taking vitamin B-12 and a woman’s one-a-day vitamin. That with more red meat which was recommended to me in the past every time I go into anemia. How ever I get up, I have coffee and stuff with Ron then I need to go back to bed for normally 4 hours, get up and do dishes while watching The Majority Report. How ever some days like yesterday I did not even get that far, going to back to bed by 2 pm only to have Ron wake me and beg me to eat.
I have done better today only going back to bed for 3 hours later in the morning. I wanted to go to bed two hours ago, but Ron was all upset he couldn’t sleep due to the neighbors having new skirting put around their home outside our bedroom. So I got him in his recliner and moved his CPAP out to his chair. Still he was not tracking. Good news as I was falling asleep at my desk he woke up and is fixing supper. At this point I am so tired I don’t really care whether I eat or not.
I tried to reply to comments, but I couldn’t. I even started to move old saved open tabs out by making a new cartoon / memes post but I simply couldn’t do it. Right now the best I can do to function is make doctors appointments and watch videos that don’t take too much thought to understand. That means most political videos are outside my ability. I am sorry but right now I am functioning at the level of a confused grandpa. Sorry. I hope to get better soon. Ron says if I don’t clear up by next week we will demand the primary care see me and deal with it. I’m not sure if I want that as my last visit he was insisting I think about getting a colonoscopy. Anyway. This is a good video and one I watched several hours ago when I was much sharper than I feel now. *** Hugs
Oh! There are so many things that need to be done, so many of them about which we can do little but still all we can; however, today, I think it’s important that each of us gets outside as best we’re able. I think we should take a minute or two to simply appreciate our Earth, and take joy in its beauty and wonder as best we can; reconnect to it. I hope everyone who reads here is able to get at least a bit of time outside today (don’t get struck by lightning, or anything else unsafe!), and can just be with our planet and its inhabitants. There is peace to be found, which will build strength to continue. But, mostly, everything isn’t all about our battles. Hearing birdsong, watching squirrels frolic, and seeing butterflies flutter, is good for us.
On Monday, the Montana Supreme Court issued a landmark 5-2 ruling declaring that “transgender discrimination is, by its very nature, sex discrimination,” and that transgender people constitute a suspect class under the state’s equal protection clause. The ruling in Kalarchik v. State of Montana blocks a definition-of-sex law and related state policies that stripped all legal recognition from transgender people and barred them from obtaining accurate birth certificates and driver’s licenses. The decision rests on Montana’s constitution, whose Equal Protection and Individual Dignity clause has been repeatedly interpreted to protect transgender people—and which the court made clear provides far greater protection than the federal constitution. Justices have now issued the clearest declaration ever that transgender people in the state will have enhanced protections of their rights, grounding the ruling in equal protection, sex discrimination, and privacy—principles with broad applicability in a state that has become a major battleground for anti-trans legislation and resistance to it. (snip-MORE)
Several justices seemed to support the families of trans youth on the question of whether to force Colorado Children’s Hospital to discontinue capitulating to the Trump administration.
On Tuesday, the Colorado Supreme Court heard oral arguments over whether Children’s Hospital Colorado can be forced to resume gender-affirming care for transgender youth. The hospital was one of roughly 40 across the country that capitulated to Trump administration threats and shuttered their trans youth care programs. However, the hospital’s position has grown increasingly untenable, as hospitals in states like Minnesota and California have begun reversing course and as the Trump administration has suffered mounting losses in federal courts—including an Oregon ruling that vacated the very declaration the hospital cited as justification for halting care. Hearing arguments on Tuesday, several justices appeared skeptical of the hospital’s rationale, questioning whether Colorado’s civil rights protections for transgender people—among the strongest in the nation—can simply be overridden by federal threats that do not constitute law. (snip-MORE)
They served their prison time. Then came deportation.
After being released from prison in 2022, he completed an 18-month job training program with the Los Angeles-based organization Homeboy Industries and began working as a cook for the group’s onsite cafe. He enrolled in two different community college programs to study business administration and culinary arts. He volunteered with groups to help other trans Latinx and formerly incarcerated people get back on their feet. By the time he reached the five-year anniversary of his release date, JJ hoped he would have saved enough to buy a house with his sister.
He also wanted to travel more, and last April, JJ went to Thailand with his mom, sister and a friend. It was his first time outside the United States since he and his parents entered the country without legal documentation when he was a toddler. They later obtained permanent resident status, and his sister was born in the United States.
“I always told myself, the moment I was able to come home, and if God permitted me to get my life together, that I would like to travel with my family,” JJ told The 19th. “Being able to give that to both my sister and my mom — even if I knew that this would be the end result, for me to get deported — I would do it all over again, just to see them happy.”
JJ, who asked for The 19th to withhold his last name for privacy, was not particularly concerned when returning to Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) and going through the standard post-flight motions. He waited in line for customs, showed his passport and green card, and got his fingerprints taken. But then, the customs officer made a phone call and escorted JJ away from his loved ones.
The weeks that followed felt like a different kind of prison: five days in LAX sleeping on the floor and living off of vending machine food, he said. Then it was five months in Eloy Detention Center in Arizona, where it came down to two options: JJ could do a “voluntary” departure to Mexico, or he could challenge his case in court and risk staying in the custody of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) indefinitely. The Department of Homeland Security did not respond to The 19th’s request for comment by the time of publication.
The choice was clear for JJ, he said, even if that meant returning to a country he hasn’t known since age 2. “I’ve been here since September, and I’m barely learning how to maneuver around. My Spanish is horrible,” he said recently from Mexico. “People notice that I’m not from here because of the way I speak.”
In the second Trump administration, people with JJ’s background — a formerly incarcerated trans immigrant — have three targets on their backs, and the power of the federal government aimed at them. Trump has repeatedly stated that ICE, under his administration, will detain and deport “the worst of the worst,” particularly people who have committed crimes. A combination of anti-trans, anti-immigrant and tough-on-crime messaging by the White House depicts a country under siege.
To carry out its mass deportation mission, the administration has ramped up partnerships with local law enforcement and correctional facilities that allow the federal government to take custody of people held in prisons who have already served their sentences. Even in states like California, which limit local law enforcement partnerships with ICE, federal law defines a broad list of criminal offenses that can make a noncitizen deportable, even if that person secured legal status like JJ.
The result is a system of “double punishment,” a prison-to-ICE pipeline that advocates told The 19th can be particularly detrimental for trans people.
We just see trauma compounded on trauma compounded on trauma.”Lynly Egyes
Trans migrants often face rejection from family, abuse, job insecurity or homelessness as a result of their identity, which increases their risk of criminalization, advocates say. In ICE custody, they may be denied health care access, face sexual violence and be deported to countries that are hostile to their identity. Even for those who attempt to rebuild their lives after serving prison terms, “ICE could use that years later to target them, pull them into immigration detention and have them deported,” said Lynly Egyes, the legal director at the Transgender Law Center.
“We just see trauma compounded on trauma compounded on trauma,” Egyes said. “When trans people are shuffled between systems such as prison into ICE custody, it completely strips them of any opportunity for freedom and connection with their loved ones and community.”
It took three attempts for Nataly Marinero to secure parole from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. It ultimately happened in 2023, and he was released after nearly 18 years of incarceration. The state’s parole approval rate was about 34 percent at the time.
During this process, the parole board assesses an incarcerated person’s behavior and activities while in custody and considers whether they will be a threat to the general public. The board considers a range of factors, including signs of remorse, past criminal history, age and plans for the future, according to the California department of corrections website. While in prison, Marinero took substance abuse courses, worked on getting his high school diploma, had a job as a clerk in the prison kitchen. He had not received a write up, an infraction in prison, in years, he said. Each of these factors help to build a stronger case for release.
Immediately after leaving prison, Marinero joined a reentry program in Los Angeles called A New Way of Life, where he received housing, a job and connections to other opportunities to help him transition to life outside.
Life felt good.
“Freedom — just to think about it makes me want to cry,” the 40-year-old told The 19th. “That’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Marinero, who came to the United States without authorization at 17, was aware that ICE had put a “hold” on him at the beginning of his incarceration more than a decade ago. ICE “holds” are requests asking jails or prisons to hold someone after incarceration so that they can be transferred to immigration custody.
“When you get to prison, your counselor would tell you when you have an ICE hold,” said Laura Hernandez, executive director of the California-based advocacy group Freedom for Immigrants.
“If you have an inkling that you may have an ICE hold, you tend to check every so often,” she added. “But sometimes ICE holds aren’t placed on anyone until right before they’re getting ready to be released. So people have to check like the entire time they’re inside.”
Whether the agency follows through on picking up immigrants with ICE holds on their accounts is largely a toss up. In Marinero’s case, he was allowed to be released from prison; he was allowed to join a reentry program and to live his life for two years without being arrested by ICE.
In January 2025, he received a call from a woman who said she was his parole officer. This struck Marinero as odd, because this was a different officer from the man he had previously spoken with. The woman demanded Marinero come to the front of his reentry home, he said. When he obeyed, ICE agents were waiting outside and took Marinero into custody.
His legal advocates at the California Coalition of Women Prisoners, who also serve trans people, moved quickly to assess whether Marinero could make an asylum claim as he was moved from an ICE holding facility to detention centers in California and Louisiana over the course of two months. Ultimately, his legal team was unable to file an asylum claim before his deportation. In April 2025, Marinero was placed in handcuffs and loaded onto a plane. He was back in El Salvador, a place he fled as a teenager and one of the most dangerous countries for trans people in Latin America.
Partnerships between federal immigration authorities, local law enforcement and state prisons have existed for three decades.
In 1996, fears about crime led to a wave of laws — including the 1994 crime bill — with more severe punishments and a historic expansion of law enforcement. President Bill Clinton signed into law two bills that created pathways to speed up the deportation of noncitizens with criminal records and broadened the list of crimes considered aggravated felonies. These crimes could range from murder and sexual assault to shoplifting and forgery. As a result, any noncitizens, including green card holders, with an aggravated felony record became eligible for deportation.
“It especially hit lawful permanent residents,” said Juliet Stumpf, the Edmund O. Belsheim professor of law chair at Lewis & Clark Law School, whose research centers on what’s referred to as “crimmigration.”
“We used to see lawful permanent residents as being able to remain in the country if they committed a crime,” she added. “But now, we’ve added a whole other level of penalty, for lawful permanent residents especially, because they’re the ones that are going to be most vulnerable to deportation based on those grounds.”
One of the 1996 laws also laid the groundwork for the 287(g) program, which can essentially turn local and state law enforcement into an arm of immigration enforcement. These 287(g) agreements fall into one of three categories, one being the “Jail Enforcement Model,” designed to identify noncitizens held in local jails or state prisons who can be transferred to immigration custody.
At the time of Trump’s first term, his administration ushered in a high — at that time — of about 150 active 287(g) agreements of all types. In the last 15 months, that figure has increased tenfold. As of April 10, ICE has signed 1,645 agreements across 39 states and two U.S. territories, according to data from the Department of Homeland Security. That dataset indicates that 10 percent of these agreements, 171 total, fall under the Jail Enforcement Model.
One contributor to this growth is likely financial incentives built into Trump’s expansive 2025 so-called One Big Beautiful tax bill, said Karen Pita Loor, director of the criminal law clinical program at Boston University.
“Historically, 287(g) agreements were not financially profitable for these counties, localities, whatever jurisdictions. They weren’t making them money,” Loor said. “The bill created really attractive financial incentives that make 287(g) agreements much more profitable.” These benefits to local law enforcement agencies can include salary reimbursements, $7,500 for equipment and $100,000 for new vehicles.
Some states, like California, where JJ and Marinero lived, have laws limiting collaborations between local and federal law enforcement. But even in those jurisdictions, the more forgiving immigration policies often do not extend to migrants with criminal records.
Prior to Trump’s return to office, JJ and Marinero, who served their prison time and were on a path to rehabilitation, might have gone unnoticed by ICE, advocates said.
Now, for Marinero, “I feel like going back to the same time when I was younger,” he said. “I can’t dress the way I want to dress. I can’t be who I want to be. It’s kind of killing my self-esteem.”
I just want to be free.”Nataly Marinero
Growing up in El Salvador, Marinero did not have a specific word to describe how he felt about his gender. He just knew that people called him a girl, but he felt like a boy and preferred loose fitting shirts and pants rather than dresses. Marinero’s religious family treated his self-expression like a curse that needed to be healed, he said. They told him he would go to hell if he didn’t change. People called him a “marimacha,” a slur for a lesbian or masculine girl. He was also repeatedly targeted for sexual violence.
“It was so bad that I wanted to try to kill myself so many times,” Marinero said. “I just want to be free.” When his uncle offered to connect him with a group who could get him into the United States, Marinero jumped at the chance.
Being back in El Salvador 23 years later, Marinero mostly works and stays at home. He doesn’t have friends, he said, though he recently found a boxing gym that is helping to relieve stress. In Mexico, JJ said he also keeps to himself and isn’t open with people about his trans identity. He said it helps that he “blends in” as a man and doesn’t get many questions or weird looks.
Next March will mark five years since JJ left prison. The five-year plan he mapped out for himself has changed quite a bit, but he hasn’t lost all hope.
“I feel like I just came out of being in prison all over again, and I have to start all over again,” he said. “Just getting back on my feet; that’s really my fifth-year goal now.”
Scottie's Playtime 