I’ve been striving to learn more about the lives of people who identify as transgender. I’m greatly concerned about conservatives in the U.S. (Republicans and many church-going folk) going back to the LGBTQ well to instill fear, indignation and repulsion in a large section of the population, especially in Red states, to rally people against a minority.
Suppress them.
Vilify them.
Make them the enemy.
Reject them.
Many politicians thrive on uniting people through hate and ignorance. Turning trans non-issues issues into issues makes a rabid constituency froth at the mouth. Republican politicians can solidify support, manifesting in increased campaign coffers and more votes, by bringing a galvanizing issue to the forefront. To them, picking on transgender people is a no-brainer. People in general—not just Americans—have a hard time understanding and accepting differences. The more different, the more difficult.
Creating fear and hating on trans people has been going on in the U.S. for a while now. Public bathrooms served as ground zero for making the public squirmy.
Sample of suggestive thinking: A guy with a penis can put on a wig and walk into the women’s restroom?! Where’s my privacy? Doesn’t this pave the way for sexual offenders to walk in and rape me?
Politician’s thinking: Are you scared? Good! Donate to us. Vote for us. It’s the only way you can stay safe.
In recent years, transgender rights have gained more media attention. Much of the coverage has tried to introduce the public to actual trans people to counter fictionalized, demonized versions. Trans lives have been portrayed more on television and in movies. Celebrities, politicians and regular Joes and Jills are in public view. This is a good thing, of course, but it also ups the fear factor.
When people see a minority gaining ground, many feel more threatened. The urge to suppress increases. Otherwise, Life as We Know It will surely crumble. And here we are in 2021 with Trumped-up efforts to hold transgendered people down.
This is a time to increase understanding of trans lives. They have the attention of some of the media at least. It is a burden. For someone who is trans, the journey to understand one’s identity is a deeply personal process that takes years, if not decades to come to terms with. There are also interpersonal issues in dealing with acceptance and rejection from friends and family. Housing and employment issues come into play as well. A trans person has plenty on their plate as it is. Going before the press to be a spokesperson, to answer questions they are tired of answering about parts of their life that other people don’t have to explain takes great fortitude. There is no obligation to do so, but some must come forward in the name of the greater cause.
I am writing this after getting stirred up while watching CNN’s consistently excellent “United Shades of America” with W. Kamau Bell on Sunday, June 13. This particular hour-long episode focused on Black trans women living in Dallas, Texas. It’s funny, heartbreaking, tragic, empowering, inspiring, poignant and maddening. Yes…all that. If it isn’t obvious, let me say I HIGHLY RECOMMEND watching it. (Click on the hyperlink at the beginning of this paragraph.) The people who are featured are strong, intelligent and they aren’t afraid to push back to make Kamau go beyond platitudes of acceptance. As I tweeted during the show, I love, love, love these women.
I want to highlight what, for me, was the most compelling moment of the “Shades of America” episode. Trans women, and even more so, trans women of color, are subject to a greater risk of violence and trauma. There is cause for a Black trans woman to be alert and guarded about where they are and who is around them. I’ve read many times that the average life expectancy in the United States for a trans woman of color is thirty-five years old. Shocking…and not true. I’m only repeating it to cite an article refuting this statistic. (The article doesn’t come from the most highly regarded source, but it is well laid out.) More accurate stats are not available, at least to my knowledge. Black trans women do live, on average, longer than that oft-stated age of thirty-five, but that doesn’t negate the fact they face significant risks in terms of violence and even murder. The statistic of a life expectancy of thirty-five is so frequently given—it reminds me of the Kinsey-based 1 in 10 figure I heard regarding gays and lesbians that always mystified me—that there comes a point when a trans woman of color believes it. In becoming my true self, I can live my life but expect it to end when I’m thirty-five.
Sobering.
And, for me, heartbreaking.
When one of the women, Pocahontas, says, “I made it to thirty-six years old,” it’s as though this is a personal victory, defying the odds. Imagine having to always be vigilant and having the shadow of an ominous, if untrue, statistic hanging over you. The media, including GLAAD, The Advocate and The Guardian have repeated this state without tracking down a primary source, perhaps in part because it’s a shocking “fact” to rally LGBT allies, but also perhaps because, given all the reports of violence, it may seem like such a plausible figure that it isn’t being fact-checked.
What I took away from watching this show and listening to these women—was a greater sense that we must jump aboard the fight for trans rights. We need LGBTQ allies to act, but it needs to be expressly said that the rest of the LGBTQ community needs to get on board. They’ve been with us all along the way in seeking equal rights. In recent years, there’s been more awareness of the role of drag queens and transgendered people in fighting back against the police at Stonewall, names like Marsha Johnson, Syvia Rivera and Maria Ritter figuring into the narrative. As noted at the beginning of this post, people who identify as transgender are only the latest focus in a long history of hate and discrimination against queer people. The fight on the right has been lost with respect to marriage equality, adoption, (to some extent) HIV stigma and many areas regarding housing and employment.
At pro-trans rallies, there are often signs and banners that rightly declare, Trans rights are human rights. For those of us in the gay community, it’s important to personalize this more: Trans rights are LGBTQ rights. By achieving rights and protections for trans people, we strengthen acceptance and legal safeguards for ALL of us under the LGBTQ umbrella. Still, in the gay rights movement, it feels like, along the way, the transgendered community got left behind to some degree. Back in the ’90s, I remember some politically minded gay men wanting to dissociate from trans people, saying the public would get sidetracked if we were all lumped together. Trans people come off as even more different than us. To put it more bluntly, the thinking was that including transgendered people in the fight for equal rights would hold gays back. Yep, our “community” has always been more than a bit of a mess. Now is yet another time we need to come together.
Let me repeat, Trans rights are LGBTQ rights.
Once again, I encourage you to watch the “Shades of America” episode. I hope it will inspire you and provide more insight into the struggles and successes of Black trans women.
The “T” in LGBTQ is the new frontier for attack. During this month of Pride, let us learn about what it’s like to live as a transgendered person and figure out what we can do to add our voices, our money and our solidarity.
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