Nov 20, 2024
#blog
Today (or I guess yesterday by the time I finish writing because I'm so slow) is trans remembrance day. And in the wake of the recent US election, it's hitting all of us.
It feels like the scariest time in a long time to be a trans person in America right now.
Yeah, that's all I know how to say at this moment. A very deadpan statement, but I have been in an eternal grief all day. I have had very few words. I am not in a position to offer much revolutionary advice, except that we really need each other right now.
I have had very few coherent thoughts today, except what's going to happen to some of my closest friends and the multitudes of other people who are going to suffer under the Trump regime.
I am thinking about everyone, everywhere around the globe, who's trapped in a transphobic environment and does not have the means to escape.
I am mourning Eden Knight, someone I never knew but whose story hits every single time.
I am mourning everyone whose names I will never hear but whose stories deserve to be told.
But to be honest, I'm mostly mourning myself today. I am mourning the person I wish I could be. I am mourning the person I was on track to becoming, but had all of that snatched away from me in a flash.
I think this is the first time I spell it out very clearly on my blog, but I've been facing involuntary detransition. In July, due to visa complications and the mess that is the tech job market now, I was forced to move away from a place that gave me the tools to embrace self-discovery and celebrate transition, to a place where it is practically impossible to be trans. I'd known it would happen for months, but the crushing blow of it happening was still too much to take.
I had to stop HRT. I am parroted trans hatred nonstop. I haven't heard my name uttered even once. I have declined mental health support in fear that they won't be gender-affirming. I have kept super quiet, just in fear of being spotted. In fact, this blog probably isn't 100% safe, but I refuse to be silenced.
If there is a trans community where I am, it's likely super under wraps and difficult to find. So I feel obliged to continue making my voice heard online, as much as it is possible to do so. Even with a minuscule amount of people following me.
And I know that the possibility of this happening to people close to me is now very real. I cannot bear the thought that the suffering I face will be immediately passed to so many others with just one swearing-in in January. And yet, at the same time, it is already being faced by even more people on every corner of the planet.
One third of the world's nations enforce some degree of LGBTQ+ criminalization. Many more will still have strong opposition to trans people. If there was a single good place to go, I'd have packed my bags and ran ages ago. It often feels like transition is a luxury, and my priority should be to make money and further my career, even if that means doing so in an anti-trans environment. This is the final form of hypercapitalism and America is just the strongest example.
I've heard it said that the world is not ready for trans rights. That trying to escape my condition is futile and I will never achieve transition. I do not care in the slightest if the world is not ready, whatever that means. We are here, and we will continue to be here no matter what.
I want to be here as much as possible. When every voice I hear pushes me out, I will have to fight back. It is a requisite for our existence. I hope one day I can inspire people and be some kind of advocate for what I really care about, but this has felt like the airline safety videos when they talk about oxygen masks. Save yourself first, then help others.
I don't want it to be this way.
At risk of eternal doom-spiraling, I will end the post here. I have nothing more of substance to say. Be well, be safe, and you are loved.