By Chris Everett, executive director, UAF Legacy Health

Milk used those words in 1977 in a now-famous plea for hope for the gay community.

I’m using them now as a plea for hope for sustainable healthcare in Utah’s LGBTQ+ community.

A few years ago, it felt like we were getting closer to something radical: LGBTQ+ people receiving healthcare that’s respectful, informed, and easy to access, just like everyone else. No extra hurdles, no navigating bias. Just care.

But that moment is slipping away.

Across the country, we’re watching a quiet retreat. Institutions that once felt safe are scaling back or shifting focus. Programs disappear without notice. And too often, queer people are left with nowhere to go but back into systems that were never built with us in mind.

This isn’t just a temporary setback. It’s a wake-up call.

Healthcare built on symbols alone — rainbows in June, inclusive language in brochures — won’t protect us when policies change or budgets shrink. According to the Center for American Progress, LGBTQ+ Americans are more than twice as likely to experience discrimination in healthcare settings, and nearly one in three trans adults say they’ve had to educate their own provider on basic trans health.

That’s not okay, and it won’t fix itself.

Here’s the truth: If we want care that lasts, care that sees us, care that protects us, it’s up to us to build it.

Why the Current System Isn’t Enough

Healthcare systems in Utah — academic, nonprofit, and for-profit — have made real efforts to include LGBTQ+ communities. Many of those efforts were well-intentioned. However, even the best of them are often constrained by bureaucratic hurdles, political pressures, and risk management considerations.

The result? Programs get scaled back when things get tense. Clinics close. Staff are reassigned. The progress evaporates.

We can’t afford to be optional anymore. Our care can’t depend on whether it’s politically convenient.

At UAF Legacy Health, we’re not an add-on. We’re not a side project. Queer care is the whole point. We’re building something rooted in community values—something designed to outlast the noise.

The Real Cost of “Inclusive Enough”

Even when LGBTQ+ programs exist, they often end up benefiting the institution more than the community. They attract insured patients, bring in grants, and make the hospital look good, while uninsured and underinsured folks are shuffled into systems that don’t have the training, resources, or compassion to provide real care.

That’s not care. That’s exploitation.

UAF doesn’t extract value from the queer community, we reinvest it. Every insured patient who comes through our doors helps fund care for someone who can’t pay. Every visit keeps someone else from falling through the cracks.

What You Do Matters

This isn’t a pitch. It’s a call to action. Because healthcare equity won’t happen unless we all make it happen. This is where you come in.

If you’re LGBTQ+: Make UAF Legacy Health your healthcare home. Not just because we’re affirming, but because when you show up, you’re investing in care for your whole community. Every visit helps fund someone else’s. That’s how we build a system that lasts.

If you’re a queer-affirming provider: Send your LGBTQ+ patients our way. Tell your colleagues about us. Help us build a care network that’s built for long-term resilience, not just short-term optics.

If you’re an ally: This is your moment to do more than wave a flag. Get your care here. Refer a friend. Use your privilege to stabilize access for people who don’t have the same safety nets.

This system is yours to support. Yours to strengthen. Yours to sustain.

What We’re Building, and Why You’re Part of It

At UAF Legacy Health, we’re designing care that doesn’t disappear. That doesn’t waver when politics get messy. That doesn’t vanish when the headlines change.

We’re creating:

• Community-led governance based on trust, equity, and dignity
• Trauma-informed, peer-accountable care that centers on lived experience
• Financial models that protect access for those with gaps in insurance or income
• Continuity of care, no matter your status, identity, or ability to pay

But none of that means anything without you.

Healthcare doesn’t have to be a system we react to. It can be something we shape, something we own.

So here’s the challenge: Be a part of this. Don’t wait for someone else to fix it. Bring your care here. Tell others. Talk about it. Support it.

Because this time, we’re not just asking for a seat at the table.
We’re building the table ourselves.

And you?
You’re invited.