What does it feel like to be transgender in 2023? Challenging, yes. But oh so joyful | Opinion
As a trans man and a non-binary person, we find ourselves moved to tears and laughter explaining the significance of International Transgender Day of Visibility on Friday. On a daily basis, we relish moments of joy, like finding out that 24 Hour Fitness lets us use our correct names and genders in creating membership accounts. But we are always conscious that trans+ people (those with gender identities outside the binary) are still fighting for our lives. This is true not only in red states but here in Sacramento, too.
Our lives are too often reduced to dehumanizing political debate that erases our experiences and those of countless other trans+ Americans. We are simply trying to live our lives, existing is to be in a fight we didn’t choose to be in — and one that seems never-ending.
The sheer amount of time a trans person spends fighting for the dignity that others take for granted — the fight to belong — boggles even our minds. This includes time spent trying to find healthcare providers who are understanding, or to even access healthcare at all; finding a restroom that feels safe to use, or going about our business without people asking inappropriate and intrusive questions. We are also fighting over 400 anti-LGBTQ+ bills introduced so far this year alone in state houses across the nation, including here in California.
These awful pieces of legislation range from California’s Assembly Bill 1314, requiring teachers to out their trans students, to a recently passed law in Mississippi banning the use of public funds for gender-affirming healthcare for minors.
With these proposed laws, coupled with a society basked in anti-trans discrimination and stigma, it’s no wonder our trans youth are at some of the highest risk for suicide and homelessness, or why trans adults experience poverty at more than twice the rate of the general population. It’s not because of their identities, but because of environments that are unsafe and unsupportive.
Despite all of this, the trans community is equally about joy, resistance and affirmation.
Evan, as a former Capitol staffer, is so happy that the Capitol has a restroom Rainer can comfortably use. One didn’t exist when Evan transitioned genders there less than ten years ago.
For Rainer, trans visibility is when their co-workers correct their pronouns when they are misgendered so that they don’t have to.
Evan’s trans visibility is when his family organized an intimate surprise party for him when his legal name and gender was successfully changed. For the occasion, they wore pins that said “We heart Evan.”
It’s about Rainer’s mom, a high school teacher, providing support for LGBTQ+ students by sharing her story about having a nonbinary child.
Evan considers trans+ visibility to be when he secures rights and protections for the trans+ community as he engages in his advocacy work. And, for Rainer, it’s the euphoria that comes with wearing their binder with a pair of Dickies one day, and a dress the next (and Doc Martens with both, obviously).
On this Trans Day of Visibility, we recognize that trans+ communities are not a monolith, and embrace all trans identities and individualities. Trans people are part of every community — communities of color, with all abilities, ages and sexual orientations. And, for the record, if there are more openly trans young people than there used to be, it’s because we’ve created safer spaces for them to be themselves.
Trans+ communities are not going anywhere, and trans visibility is about making the world an easier place for trans people to exist in. All we’re asking is to exist safely and comfortably, and to be visible in whatever way we choose.
This story was originally published March 28, 2023 at 5:00 AM.