Southern Queer Newsroom
November 20th is the International Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR), a day of vigils, parties, events, actions, and movies. This day usually hits close for members of the transgender community and their allies, but this year feels far harder than previous years, despite fewer trans people reported being murdered across the world. The sense of loss is heavy in the air and my mind, and it got me thinking about the past, the future, and "what ifs" I'd rather leave buried.
Remembrance
Trans Day of Remembrance is generally how people recognize this day. It's a day of intense pain, thinking back on those we lost in the past year and those we lost before then. This year, I know the deaths of Miss Major, Marisol Payero, Tortuguita, and those killed in the Club Q shooting in 2022 will be front and center in my head.
It's sobering to think on. The first person interviewed for an SQN piece took her own life. Someone I met is now dead, and as far as I know, I could not have done anything to stop it. It's something none of us deserve to deal with.
Remembrance hurts because it puts a spotlight on all the ways trans people are discriminated against in everyday life. We're all familiar with the violence that comes from having the wrong gender marker on our IDs, being forced to use the wrong restrooms, the dehumanization of the carceral system, and a public health system that is increasingly abandoning us. We see this play out daily, and the toll is immense. In legislatures across the country, we are routinely used as political fodder for a fascist campaign. We're called groomers, pedophiles, demons, and violent.
It's also about who we lost to this violence. Suicides are still unbearably common, and the Trans Remembrance Report doesn't include all violent deaths and suicides that occurred this year. Payero is not on this list. No one from the state of Georgia is, despite having heard about at least one other in the state. I've talked a few times about suicides with a friend who is a crisis hotline volunteer, and she's told me that her job got much harder in the past year, because of how far the situation has worsened. For many, not wanting to wait to be forcibly detransitioned or sent to prison for their identity isn't simply panic. Not wanting to live in a country that's seeking your death is not irrational. "Death before detransition" is a motto for a reason.
New trends in the murder of trans people have been coming up in the data. According to Trans Murder Monitoring (TMM) from TGEU, "a growing number of murder victims are trans movement leaders and activists." While reported murders did go down compared to last year, the main occupations of the victims are usually either sex workers or activists. These reports could also be dropping due to media invisibility, where news sources simply don't report on these deaths or report on them inaccurately. To put it mildly, it's a worrying trend.
Resilience
Despite this long, growing wave of violence, I have also seen incredible resilience from trans people this year, especially trans Southerners. Doing legislative advocacy down at the state capitol this past session showed me that so many of us are willing and able to stand up for ourselves. In and out of the capitol, I have met dedicated, talented, and joyous trans people. Whether it be the trans man that spoke during the Georgia Equality capitol event in March or those spearheading student resistance to bigoted university administrations, defiance is widespread.
It's exhausting work, and at the capitol I can speak from experience that it did not seem like we accomplished much by speaking against this legislation. None of the bills that were stopped this year were because of trans advocacy, but rather normal party politicking. Despite that, the connections and energy I got from doing this got me very energized to keep doing it out in the rest of the state. It's hard to want to stop in these circumstances, and I spent pretty much the entire last month and a half working on this website and other projects. It's caused nervous breakdowns and panic attacks more than once. That shouldn't be lauded – it's a clear sign I was not valuing my own well-being.
While I deeply and loudly encourage you to get involved however you can and in whatever ways you're best at, your physical and mental health come first. Resilience is as much about sustaining attacks and doing the work as it is about letting yourself recover from the work.
I've grown to view my transition, never for a moment removed from my activism, as a swim. I'm far out from shore, caught in a riptide. My first shot of estrogen was a first gasping breath above the waves. Ever since then, I've been swimming exceptionally hard, trying hard to carry things with me without many moments of rest. The constant swimming and carrying has nearly caused me to drown more than once, and right now I'm currently just treading water or clinging to some debris.
I am constantly impressed by the bright lights so many trans people shine into the world. And as heartbroken as I am by each that goes out, my anger grows far more.
Rage and Revenge
Anger is natural. Anger is normal. Anger is frankly expected. We're in the middle of a years-long onslaught against our ability to even exist. We need allies to stand up for us, and the only things that make the news are flakes deciding to throw us under the bus. Legislative action right now is deeply frustrating. The administration is derailing AIDS treatment, threatening a worsening of the epidemic alongside the general wanton destruction of public health infrastructure. It's sadistic.
As tired of the phrase "the cruelty is the point" I am, that's how sadism works. They simply hate us. It's enraging. It's unfair. We deserve a better world than this. We deserve to breathe free air, live our own lives, and not have to struggle against a global backlash to our existence. So make it.
When I say "revenge," I do not in any way mean violence against our oppressors. I am not a fighter whatsoever. When I say "revenge," I mean something greater and possibly meaner than direct fighting. I mean building a world, no matter their input, where we are celebrated and discrimination is outlawed, where they're unable to threaten us. Making them live with our existence just like we've had to live with theirs. It's not a grand theory of liberation or a Final Battle. It's not the overthrow of capitalism and patriarchy, as much as I long for those. But it leaves our enemies unable to harm us this much.
More than anything, I want to see a world where trans people are cherished over mulched, and I want to see it in my lifetime. We deserve to see that world, and it'll be the little things that build us closer. You don't have to be the omni-activist. Find something you like, something you can get better at, and something that helps others. That's all. Don't doomscroll and spin your wheels. Don't accept that we're all going to die. Don't lay down and wait for the camps. Don't assume the camps are coming. Do not do the fascists' work for them. You deserve to live and thrive.
Today is for all those who didn't get that. For those who killed for their identity. For those who saw no help and no hope. May we build a world they would have flourished in.