Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett has already drawn a substantial amount of scrutiny for her conservative religious beliefs and her potential willingness to overturn Roe v. Wade. An originalist in the mold of her mentor Justice Antonin Scalia, Barrett could hamper liberal causes for decades to come. But it’s perhaps underappreciated just how much the conservative religious takeover of the court has long been underway. If Barrett is confirmed, she will join a bench that has already tipped the balance of church and state toward the former. Even if she isn’t confirmed, make no mistake—this trajectory is already laid in.

Over the past 25 years, American public acceptance of LGBTQ individuals has grown, at least in some quarters. But LGBTQ people still face plenty of barriers in the legal industry that include choosing the right firm, office and practice group. Although a law firm might host a celebration for Pride month or speak kindly about LGBTQ employees at the management level, those attitudes aren’t always reflected in hiring. “Even law firms with a culture of inclusivity can have hiring partners on staff who are homophobic or transphobic,” said Levasseur. In the hiring and recruitment process, transgender law students face the additional risk of being outed against their will if references know them by a different name than the one they currently use, Levasseur added.

In most circles, “religious freedom” and “religious liberty” are interchangeable, but to call them identical wouldn’t quite be right. The words liberty and freedom have different origins, and they have slightly different connotations in the context of American political and cultural history. The GOP’s shift, whether intentional or not, represents the gradual re-embrace of liberty by religious conservatives, and it’s worth taking note of.

When we use the term “religious freedom” to reflexively describe any laws that allow for LGBT discrimination, we lose some nuance. It’s true that HB2 is supported by many of the same people who’ve campaigned for the recent wave of discriminatory religious freedom laws, but that doesn’t necessarily make it a religious freedom law. Calling it an anti-anti-discrimination law might be more accurate (if slightly less elegant).

Under the current wording of the law, universities might not be able to explicitly say “gay students may not live with each other” because such a rule would affect only gay students and “gay” is an identity that falls under protection. But they could say something like “no student may participate in a same-sex relationship,” as this rule would apply to all students on campus. They could also use the property protection clause to deny trans students housing or prevent LGBT groups from meeting on campus, according to the ACLU.

Cases like Masterpiece are a symptom of white conservative Christians feeling like they have become outsiders in what they believe is their country. Jack Phillips’s lawyers at the Alliance Defending Freedom have framed his and other similar cases as efforts to protect Americans who have been caught in the crosshairs of Kennedy’s Obergefell decision and LGBTQ rights advocates. They’re trying to protect themselves against what they perceive to be the new dominant cultural norm.

Guthrie Graves-Fitzsimmons is on a mission to reclaim religion from political conservatives who so often use it as a cover for their restrictive laws. Over the summer, the 27-year-old divinity school graduate launched a newsletter inspired by Mike Allen's Politico Playbook, but for the religious left. Each installment of The Resistance Prays includes news of the day, related scripture, interpretation, prayer, and an action item. For example: Are you enraged over President Trump’s recent decision to rescind DACA? Remember that “There are no deserving or undeserving migrants just as there are no deserving or undeserving children of God.” Then, get involved with the Interfaith Immigration Coalition’s Neighbor to Neighbor meetings.

It’s been just over six years since the military ended its Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy, allowing gay, lesbian and bisexual service members to serve without needing to hide their sexual orientation for the first time. For some new recruits, the policy is already a relic, but for veterans who served before it ended, the discrimination they endured still feels fresh. Some of them were discharged because of the policy, while others merely suffered in silence until it ended. Many have shunned the label “veteran” altogether.

After he returned from a tour in Iraq in the fall of 2006, Ramond Curtis wanted to get as far away from the Army as he possibly could. He was mentally checked out far before his contract ran up in 2009, and he sought comfort in various drugs to quell symptoms of what would later be diagnosed as post-traumatic stress disorders. Curtis said treatment at a Veterans Affairs clinic ultimately helped with his addiction. But over the course of his time in care, he’s seen three different psychologists. Two of them, he says, didn’t seem to understand the particular trauma he was working through as a gay veteran.

Nine states allow state-licensed child welfare agencies to refuse to place children with LGBTQ families, if doing so violates their religious beliefs. Some of these laws are facing challenges in the courts. The tension in the resulting cases stems from a fundamental disagreement over who is being discriminated against and who needs protection from the government: the religious agencies providing adoption and foster care services, or the same-sex couples hoping to use them.

On the morning of a scorching day in August 2017, a group of four young women drove into the dusty expanse of the Cabeza Prieta Wilderness on the southwestern edge of Arizona. When they arrived at their destination, they parked their truck, loaded their backpacks with gallon jugs of water, and trekked deeper into the desert between the boulders and low brush. Even though they wore thick boots, the group stopped periodically to peel the thorns of jumping cholla cacti out of their legs and feet. The volunteers planned to leave their water jugs, along with pop-top cans of cooked beans, out in the desert for migrants crossing the border. But less than two hours later, they were apprehended by law enforcement and were charged by federal prosecutors with entering the park without a permit, driving in a wilderness area, and abandonment of property. In their defense, the volunteers argued that their actions were motivated by their faith.

The category of religious “nones” in the U.S. has grown steadily over the past few decades, but polls show that “nones” are not necessarily atheists. Some may not agree with the faith traditions they grew up in, but that doesn’t mean they want to fully abandon those practices. Eboni Marshall Turman, who was raised in black Baptist churches, believes many nones might return to traditional spaces if those spaces would update their gender and sexual politics. “We’re still preaching this old, old, old message that really proclaims hopelessness” for those who don’t fit traditional gender norms, says Marshall Turman. “That’s why these churches are emptying out, and people are saying, ‘I’m spiritual but I’m not religious.’” Sacred Space is both a refuge for women who have left their religious traditions and a seminar for those who still hope to change their faith communities from within. No one religion is playing host. Everyone is welcome to bring their own traditions; only sexism, racism, homophobia, and other forms of exclusion are off the table.