Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
In 2022, as many as 25 anti-transgender bills have circulated in the US state legislatures that endanger trans people nationally
By Woodlief McCabe ’23
Staff Writer
Content warning: This article discusses transphobia and mentions gendered violence and suicide.
Thursday, March 31, was the 13th International Trans Day of Visibility. The holiday was started by activist Rachel Crandall as a response to Trans Day of Remembrance in acknowledgment of living trans people. The day also emphasizes that we deserve to be seen and recognized for our presence. This past Thursday was the first to receive federal recognition, as President Joe Biden issued a proclamation declaring March 31 the nationwide Transgender Day of Visibility. But as protective bills hang with uncertainty in the House and Senate, states rush to pass anti-trans bills and trans people continue to be disproportionate victims of violence, it is increasingly clear that visibility will do nothing to protect trans people. What we need instead is action.
The last several years have been landmarks for transgender visibility in popular culture. Through music, sports, television and film, trans people are occupying more space in the public consciousness. There is a lot that can be said about the benefit of seeing out and proud trans people in the media and the impact that can have, especially on young people who are learning about the many ways one can exist in the world. While we celebrate Hunter Schafer and Elliot Page — deservedly, don’t get me wrong — we cannot ignore the fact that 2021 was the deadliest year on record for transgender and nonbinary people, and the majority of these people facing violence were trans women of color.
As trans people become more visible in the media, so do conversations about transness. The violence our community faces is often predicated on cisgender people feeling deceived by a sexual partner or potential sexual partner. When conversations about trans people are amplified, so are conversations about how trans people should go about their lives, disclose their transness and cater to cisnormative society to avoid becoming victims of violence. Too often, transness is presented as a justification for abuse, assault and murder of trans people.
As trans people are given the spotlight in popular media, so are reactionary transphobic voices. In the news, on social media and in legislative bodies, trans people are set up as punchlines and punching bags, and not only our rights, but also our validity as individuals are being questioned and stripped away. Visibility was the goal when most people didn’t know what being transgender meant. Today, we have moved radically past that stage. Now, they see us and they want to kill us.
The day before Trans Day of Visibility, Oklahoma and Arizona became the fourth and fifth states this year to legislate against trans athletes playing on teams that align with their gender. The only way to enforce this rule is with invasive checks on children. Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill will allow educators to prevent LGBTQ+ individuals and history from being discussed or taught in public schools, according to Human Rights Watch. A recent directive issued by Texas Governor Greg Abbott instructed the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services to investigate and potentially criminalize parents who assist their children with any aspect of gender transition for “child abuse.”
Let’s make one thing absolutely clear about these laws: children are going to die. 82 percent of trans individuals have contemplated suicide, with the highest rates of suicidality being amongst young trans people. Trans youth already face abuse from family and peers and extreme hostility in school and other social spaces. Ripping away the ability for parents to support their children will only make things worse. This is something trans people have known for a long time. A blog post made to the GLSEN website in 2015 echoed this same sentiment, noting that trans youth face the most hostile school environments and arguing for comprehensive protection so that laws like the North Carolina “Bathroom Bill” HB-2 would have never passed.
For some trans people, invisibility is protective, but for many, visibility isn’t a choice. The call for visibility for trans people is tinged with irony. Trans people who do not “pass” become targets of harassment and abuse simply for their presence in both physical and digital spaces. Visibility comes with policing. It comes with fear of the next person who doesn’t like what they see. It comes with the inability to exist in one’s own skin without being a topic of debate. We hear vile and dehumanizing rhetoric spouted by cis people in bad-faith arguments.
Some trans people are ready to stand up and fight against the onslaught of transphobia and hatred, but most are not. Most want to live comfortable and unassuming lives, and not become the wall against which the battering ram of anti-trans discourse must be pummeled. Trans people are not up for debate. We are here, and we know what our community needs. Representation and visibility mean nothing without strong protection. Transness and validity is not something given to us by a legislative body or a piece of media. President Biden’s affirmation that trans people are “some of the bravest Americans” and that he will “have [our] back” feels hollow in the wake of current trans politics. Trans people do not need to be brave or inspiring. We do not need more visibility; without concrete action and protection, without justice and safety, visibility is only violence.