On Being Trans in 2024
Well, we almost got through the year without me writing one of these, but in light of the country electing a vain, cruel, narcissistic, misogynistic, racist, authoritarian rotten yam — substantially in part on the wave of a $200 million dollar literally transphobic ad campaign — the spirit of the season is calling out to me.
What are we going to do? What is there to say? In previous installments of this (apparently now) tradition, I’ve tried to persuade, I’ve tried to raise awareness. If people only knew the terrible onslaught of legislation and culture looking to systematically dismantle the rights and dignity of trans people then of course it would be put to a stop. The rainbow-painted corporations could express their displeasure, people could turn out to vote, people with anti-trans views might be convinced to change them. Admittedly, I’ve always known the utility of these essays has been more to myself as an outlet and to people like me who might feel seen, but shit, it’s depressing to know that the strategy that works in small-minded corners of Florida Man’s mind, works just as well nationally.
It’s not only trans people who have targets painted on their backs now that the very stable genius will be returning to office and bringing along the entire cackle with him. Immigrants, anyone who can get pregnant, people of color, the rest of the lgbtq community, pretty much anyone facing any degree of economic insecurity all have reason to be pretty damn afraid right now.
The reality is we’re looking at a future that is going to be entirely different to what any of us have grown accustomed to living in the US the last few decades. Unfortunately, that’s the only thing that seems certain — the specifics of what might happen, it’s like staring into a rip in reality, a completely inky black void.
They’ve floated plenty of ideas, have already implemented many of them at the state level. I think nationwide trans athlete bans, bans on gender affirming care for minors, severe restrictions that are effectively bans on adult care, elimination of changing gender markers or names on passports and other identity documents — those are all likely, and sadly, terrifyingly, probably the tamest, safest, least bad scenarios. There are much more severe scenarios — banning trans people from various kinds of employment like public education or healthcare, criminalizing use of HRT ala other criminalized drugs, using obscenity laws to arrest or otherwise harass trans people writing articles like this one, or existing in public at all in the “wrong” clothes, harsher bathroom laws. The sky really is the limit, and all these ideas have already been floated in various state legislatures, many implemented on some level. We are somewhat now on our own — the Democratic Party is already talking about throwing us under the bus, and while for now support is (mostly) holding, if things really start going downhill we will be some of the first to be cut loose in hopes of gaining any sort of chance of getting power back. Blue States provide some level of refuge, but only as long as that support holds.
I don’t want to fear-monger but I don’t think this is a time to mince words or only entertain best-case scenarios. We’re entering a new world. The only restraints this new administration has, now that Maga has full control over all three branches of government, are the ones they place on themselves. Their only guide is their own faded, unreadable moral compasses. And as much as I want to believe that much of their platform is all talk and bluster — flame fanning to bring out a supportive base — there simply is no evidence that is the case. For the last several years Maga has consistently taken every opportunity in the legislatures and governorships they’ve won to enact policy that directly reflects what they say they want. Despite being a bunch of cowardly, duplicitous, reality-challenged, pathological liars I trust what they say. Really our only best hope of avoiding the worst is that the infighting and sheer laziness will grind their effectiveness to a halt.
Having lived through a bit of this in the South (though nothing compared to the people still stuck there), if you’re a trans person, you need to have some really serious conversations with yourself and be prepared. If you haven’t already, you need to make a plan. You need to decide what things are important to you and where your lines in the sand are that trigger action. What is your plan for HRT? What are you willing or not willing to do to get it? What is the signal for you to leave your state, or leave the country, or do you want to stay where you are to fight and face whatever consequences that may bring? What are the ways you can get to a different state or country if you need to? Who can you rely on locally for support? These decisions are easier to make it advance than in the moment, where the Overton window can keep delaying them.
If you have any documents you need to update or renew, best to do it as soon as possible if you can. Reaffirm your connections with all your trans friends and its probably a good time to make some new ones. If you have the ability to build up a supply of HRT, that’s probably wise. Save as much money as you can.
I hate that I’m writing this, I can hear how much fear is embedded in it, and how much it sounds like hyperbole and hysteria. I imagine cis people reading this will think I’ve gone off the deep end. I really hope it is and I have and the next four or more years will actually be relatively painless, but we have to be prepared because there is simply nothing to stop the people in power if they decide this is what they care about. And frankly, I’m generally a pretty optimistic and hopeful person, and the fact that this is where I am should really highlight the gravity of the situation.
If there is any positive side to this situation, and it’s pretty difficult to see any, it’s that we’ve been fearing this moment for years, seen the writing on the wall, and have worried ourselves sick about when and how it might come, if it might be avoided, and at least that particular uncertainty is quickly being erased. It’s here, we’ve arrived, welcome to Act II, intermission was your last chance to use the bathroom. Uncertainty is what we as humans fear, it’s what keeps us up at night, and while there is still much to be uncertain about, the biggest uncertainty — whether or not this day would come — is now resolved and there is some perverse comfort in that. It’s no longer a will they/won’t they, now it’s simply a question of details and scale. In some ways that’s progress, a deeply dark, threatening progress that accompanies the end of any stalemate, but it does mean we are no longer stuck and the conditions for change have arrived. There is some degree of hope in that. Everyone that’s not Maga will be (and are) reexamining everything about what we think, how we communicate, what strategies we fight with, and what we value. The reins being completely thrown off, should, at least one would hope, also break us of the illusion of living in a functioning redeemable system, and give us permission to work for change in new ways as well.
Look, this is not the future I imagined the 21st century would be like when I was a kid, but I still believe in that future — a future that is miraculous, and wonderful, and better, and kind, and more accepting — it’s just a future that cannot be taken for granted, a future, sadly, much further away than it looked. In the meantime, here we are. And borrowing a bit from the philosophy of the eponymously named musical, that means…something. We’re here, and as it says, we live our lives. The fact is no matter the horror or wonder outside our doors life keeps moving on. We live, we love, we get angry, we get scared, we have birthdays, and get married, try to have fun, try to comfort each other, experience pain, do work, try to pay bills, spend time with friends, spend time alone, the things that make life life, the things that make life significant and meaningful don’t stop. We keep experiencing them as long as we’re here. And for the moment there’s probably going to be a lot more fear, and a lot more pain, and a lot more needless suffering. Those things are also a part of being alive, as much as we would like it not to be so. We’re here, and we’re here for each other, we need to be here for each other. And we’re here until we’re not.
Earlier I spoke of uncertainty, the terror it can cause, and how much uncertainty we now face. We also face one absolute fact: we will not be here in this moment forever. Life keeps moving, we keep moving, the world keeps changing and there is no more certain thing than tomorrow will not be like today. All we can do is experience that change, together, finding comfort in that and working towards something better. We’re here until we’re not, and then we’re someplace else.
