Three years ago, I wrote a piece for LGBTQ+ History Month in the UK. It marked the abolition of Section 28, a law that tried to erase any mention of our community. At the time, I thought I was writing about something long gone—a relic of the past. But I was wrong. Now, in 2025, we’re watching history try to repeat itself.
Regressive ideologies don’t die easily. Today, the U.S. is at the forefront of a renewed attack—not just erasing us from policy or paper, but trying to erase our existence entirely. Let’s call it what it is: evil.
This is their strategy—strike hard and fast to overwhelm us, to make us feel hopeless, powerless, outnumbered. And yes, it’s natural to feel scared or overwhelmed in the face of all this. But it’s also important to remember how far we’ve come. The trans community has fought hard for visibility, dignity, and rights. And that progress? It terrifies those clinging to outdated power structures.
They can’t stand the idea of a transgender woman being their boss. Or a queer person leading a company. Or anyone from our community succeeding in places they were told they didn’t belong. Our existence, our visibility, challenges their privilege—and that’s exactly why they’re lashing out.
Their primary weapon? Misinformation. They target trans people to stoke fear, confusion, and hatred—because fear drives votes. But let’s be clear: this isn’t about facts. It’s about control.
Outrage is understandable—but it’s not a sustainable fuel. Unchecked outrage can eat away at your health and hope. Instead, what we need is focused, strategic action. Channeled energy. And that starts with one word:
Visibility.
What’s the antidote to being erased? Being seen.
They don’t want to see us? Fine—we’ll make sure they see us everywhere.
One reason misinformation spreads so easily is because many people have never met a trans person. They rely on distorted portrayals in media or hateful rhetoric from politicians. That’s why real-life stories—our stories—matter so much.
When I deliver my talk, “The ABC of Trans Identities,” I always start with this: there’s no such thing as “gender ideology.” That term is a scare tactic. Being trans isn’t a belief system—it’s biology. And science is on our side.
Still, the most powerful tool I have isn’t data—it’s storytelling.
When I share my personal journey, something clicks. People see me not as a threat, but as a fellow human being. With dreams, flaws, fears, and joy—just like them. I’m not immoral or dangerous. I’m just asking for a fair shot, like anyone else.
Of course, visibility comes with risks. I always urge caution and safety above all. But we’ve reached a point where staying silent is no longer a real option. If we don’t speak up, we risk being erased without resistance.
This year, something incredible happened. A friend of mine, a trans man who had always stayed “stealth” in the corporate world, won a prestigious national award. In his acceptance speech—live, on stage—he came out publicly for the first time.
I couldn’t believe it. “What happened to staying stealth?” I asked him.
His answer: “Times have changed. It’s time to show up.”
That moment changed everything. Same man, same message—but now, his words carried a new kind of power. Authenticity. When you speak from your lived experience, people don’t just hear you—they feel you.
That’s what moves people. Not just facts, but feeling. Not just stats, but stories.
So this Trans Day of Visibility, remember this:
We’re not invisible. We’re not alone. We are many, and we are brave.
Almost 10% of people in the U.S. now identify as LGBTQ+—and that number is surely higher. When you add allies, family, and friends, we’re a force to be reckoned with. We’ve already shown our power by holding companies accountable for backing away from diversity and inclusion. When their profits drop, they listen.
Now, let’s take it further.
Let’s organize. Let’s speak up. Let’s be seen.
Visibility isn’t just about being out—it’s about being human. Showing the world that we want the same things everyone else does: love, dignity, opportunity, and joy.
So next time someone looks at you with doubt or fear, look back and say:
“See me. I’m just like you.
I want to live fully.
I want to love deeply.
I want to thrive.
If they come for me today, they’ll come for you tomorrow.
There’s no separation. You are me, and I am you.”
We are visible.
We are powerful.
And we are here to stay.
Three years ago, I wrote a piece for LGBTQ+ History Month in the UK. It marked the abolition of Section 28, a law that tried to erase any mention of our community. At the time, I thought I was writing about something long gone—a relic of the past. But I was wrong. Now, in 2025, we’re watching history try to repeat itself.
Regressive ideologies don’t die easily. Today, the U.S. is at the forefront of a renewed attack—not just erasing us from policy or paper, but trying to erase our existence entirely. Let’s call it what it is: evil.
This is their strategy—strike hard and fast to overwhelm us, to make us feel hopeless, powerless, outnumbered. And yes, it’s natural to feel scared or overwhelmed in the face of all this. But it’s also important to remember how far we’ve come. The trans community has fought hard for visibility, dignity, and rights. And that progress? It terrifies those clinging to outdated power structures.
They can’t stand the idea of a transgender woman being their boss. Or a queer person leading a company. Or anyone from our community succeeding in places they were told they didn’t belong. Our existence, our visibility, challenges their privilege—and that’s exactly why they’re lashing out.
Their primary weapon? Misinformation. They target trans people to stoke fear, confusion, and hatred—because fear drives votes. But let’s be clear: this isn’t about facts. It’s about control.
Outrage is understandable—but it’s not a sustainable fuel. Unchecked outrage can eat away at your health and hope. Instead, what we need is focused, strategic action. Channeled energy. And that starts with one word:
Visibility.
What’s the antidote to being erased? Being seen.
They don’t want to see us? Fine—we’ll make sure they see us everywhere.
One reason misinformation spreads so easily is because many people have never met a trans person. They rely on distorted portrayals in media or hateful rhetoric from politicians. That’s why real-life stories—our stories—matter so much.
When I deliver my talk, “The ABC of Trans Identities,” I always start with this: there’s no such thing as “gender ideology.” That term is a scare tactic. Being trans isn’t a belief system—it’s biology. And science is on our side.
Still, the most powerful tool I have isn’t data—it’s storytelling.
When I share my personal journey, something clicks. People see me not as a threat, but as a fellow human being. With dreams, flaws, fears, and joy—just like them. I’m not immoral or dangerous. I’m just asking for a fair shot, like anyone else.
Of course, visibility comes with risks. I always urge caution and safety above all. But we’ve reached a point where staying silent is no longer a real option. If we don’t speak up, we risk being erased without resistance.
This year, something incredible happened. A friend of mine, a trans man who had always stayed “stealth” in the corporate world, won a prestigious national award. In his acceptance speech—live, on stage—he came out publicly for the first time.
I couldn’t believe it. “What happened to staying stealth?” I asked him.
His answer: “Times have changed. It’s time to show up.”
That moment changed everything. Same man, same message—but now, his words carried a new kind of power. Authenticity. When you speak from your lived experience, people don’t just hear you—they feel you.
That’s what moves people. Not just facts, but feeling. Not just stats, but stories.
So this Trans Day of Visibility, remember this:
We’re not invisible. We’re not alone. We are many, and we are brave.
Almost 10% of people in the U.S. now identify as LGBTQ+—and that number is surely higher. When you add allies, family, and friends, we’re a force to be reckoned with. We’ve already shown our power by holding companies accountable for backing away from diversity and inclusion. When their profits drop, they listen.
Now, let’s take it further.
Let’s organize. Let’s speak up. Let’s be seen.
Visibility isn’t just about being out—it’s about being human. Showing the world that we want the same things everyone else does: love, dignity, opportunity, and joy.
So next time someone looks at you with doubt or fear, look back and say:
“See me. I’m just like you.
I want to live fully.
I want to love deeply.
I want to thrive.
If they come for me today, they’ll come for you tomorrow.
There’s no separation. You are me, and I am you.”
We are visible.
We are powerful.
And we are here to stay.
