Navigating Trans Day of Visibility in Trump's America
What it means to be seen when your government is actively trying to erase you
This message is sponsored by ACLU Foundation:
The Trump Administration is pushing a dangerous and sweeping attempt to control our bodies, our families, and our lives and a Supreme Court case this term will shape the future of transgender people’s freedom — and bodily autonomy for all. The state of Tennessee wants the Supreme Court to expand its ruling overturning Roe v. Wade to allow the state to target transgender people’s autonomy over their own bodies. Continuing down this road will hurt everyone's freedom to control their bodies and lives.
The ACLU told the court that everyone deserves the freedom to control their bodies and seek the health care they need. The government has no right to deny a transgender person the health care they need, just as they have no right telling someone if, when, or how they start a family.
It's Trans Day of Visibility, and boy, do I have some thoughts.
Today has been notably muted. No flood of performative allyship from corporations, no wave of rainbow-washed platitudes. The silence is, in its own way, deafening. It feels like people are afraid to even mention trans existence publicly, and given the events of the past few months, I can't exactly blame them.
Since January, we've watched the Trump administration systematically dismantle trans rights with breathtaking efficiency. From declaring us essentially non-persons at the federal level to banning us from sports, schools, and military service, we've witnessed a coordinated attack that makes the concept of "visibility" feel less like a celebration and more like a target on our backs.
Don't get me wrong — visibility matters. When I was growing up, I barely knew trans people existed outside of harmful punchlines on sitcoms. The first time I saw a trans person portrayed with dignity changed everything for me. It's one of the reasons why I've always been open about my own experiences, even when it's uncomfortable. You can't be what you can't see, as the saying goes.
But visibility without protection is dangerous. It's like being asked to stand in the middle of a shooting range and then being told the bullets are actually compliments if you just look at them differently.
This year, Trans Day of Visibility feels complicated, to say the least. What does it mean to "celebrate" being seen when the highest office in the land is actively working to erase your existence? What's the point of being visible when that visibility puts you at risk?
Just look at what's happened since January 20th. The federal government no longer recognizes trans people. Our passports are being frozen. We're being kicked out of the military. Trans kids are being denied healthcare. Schools are being forced to out students to potentially unsupportive parents. And government websites are scrubbing any reference to our existence — the digital equivalent of burning books.
I think about all the trans kids growing up right now, watching this unfold. What message are they receiving? That their government sees them as a problem to be solved rather than people to be protected. That their identities are political talking points rather than deeply personal truths. That their healthcare is considered "radical" while the real radicalism is the state trying to control their bodies.
The sickest irony is how many of these policies are framed as "protecting children." Protecting them from what, exactly? From receiving healthcare recommended by every major medical organization? From being able to use the bathroom without harassment? From having teachers who respect their humanity?
I'm tired of the hypocrisy. I'm tired of watching politicians who couldn't explain hormone replacement therapy if their lives depended on it legislate on issues they willfully misunderstand. I'm tired of the fake concern, the manufactured outrage, the cynical exploitation of people's lives for political gain.
And yet, despite it all, I can't bring myself to regret being visible. Because I know that somewhere out there is a kid who needs to see people like them surviving — even thriving — despite the obstacles. Someone who needs to know they're not alone, that this moment in history doesn't define their worth, that there are people fighting for them.
So yes, I'm visible today. Not in spite of the silence, but because of it. Because visibility — complicated, messy, sometimes dangerous visibility — is still a form of resistance. It says: I'm here. I exist. No executive order can erase that.
But I'm also going to acknowledge the fear, the anger, the exhaustion that comes with that visibility. I'm going to recognize that for many trans people, especially those who are already marginalized in other ways, visibility isn't always a choice, and it certainly isn't always safe.
Visibility without justice isn't enough. Representation without rights isn't enough. A designated day of recognition means nothing if we spend the other 364 days treating trans people as less than human.
So on this Trans Day of Visibility, I see you — the person behind the governmental erasure and deafening public silence. I see your complexity, your resilience, your humanity that extends far beyond your gender identity. And I promise to keep fighting for a world where being seen doesn't come with a side of existential dread.
Because one day, visibility won't be an act of courage. It will just be life.
Until then, we persist. Visibly, defiantly, uncompromisingly ourselves — even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.
Check out this song by Evan Greer and Ryan Cassata. It’s a punk anthem about protecting trans kids from the government’s and society’s attacks. Warning: explicit language.
And finally, my wife Kayla has an online design shop called Tiny Werewolves. If you’ve got a chance, check out some of her work here: Tiny Werewolves
I think the bullshit about "protecting" children falls apart pretty quickly when you look at someone like Elon Musk, who doesn't even acknowledge his trans daughter and is a deadbeat dad to the growing number of children he does at least nominally recognize. To the people worried about America becoming a fascist or Nazi-adjacent state, it's already here. For those of us who don't identify as trans, if we don't stand with our trans brothers and sisters now, it'll be that much easier for them to come for us next.
America 2025:
The Racist/Fascists hold power.
I got to stop at the end of my (Maine, USA) bike ride today and chat with the ~11 older white-haired, New England, lefty-religious women holding up trans-support flags and chanting in front of the lefty-religious church in my town.
Passing people in their cars didn't seem to jump to be beep-beep supportive. But at least I did not witness any piece-of-shit assholes yelling anything negative at them.