I learned the meaning of transgender when I was 13 years old. Immediately a wave of happiness and possible freedom washed over me, but it would be short lived. During the time I came out, trans people were becoming more normalized, but transphobia was also increasing.
After spending months independently researching my health care options, I needed to educate my parents, attend counseling and psychiatric appointments, and get a diagnosis to access the health care that would save my life. While I was doing this, politicians and journalists across the country were either lying about experiences like mine or implementing bans on this health care.
I was never really scared of Washington passing laws like this; now it’s even a shield state. Still, I spent many days worried about trans minors in different places and how increased transphobic rhetoric could affect my physical safety as hate crimes steadily increased.
I now enter my legal adulthood as a trans individual, and the threat to my right to health care has becomes slightly less intense. But I still keep trans minors in mind, who carry the mental and physical burdens of a bigoted society, while cisgender adults remain largely ignorant of the importance of gender-affirming care.
For the past few years, around the country, laws have been passed banning trans minors from medically transitioning. According to the Movement Advancement project, 17 states currently ban gender-affirming medical care for minors, while six states have bans that either are currently being blocked by lawsuits or have yet to go into effect. There are also at least 63 bills in the U.S. aimed at restricting gender-affirming care, according to the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU). This anti-trans legislation comes during a time when major American medical associations support gender-affirming care for all ages.
As a trans teenager, it’s very scary to think about removing access to health care because doing so leads to higher rates of depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation for trans youth. Additionally, it makes me feel like my bodily autonomy lies in the hands of politicians who ignore what’s best for me. These laws also normalize transphobic rhetoric and an increase in anti-trans hate crimes.
As someone who’s been able to access gender-affirming care for the past two years, I can say with full confidence — it has saved my life. To think of this health care being taken away from trans youth who may need it to live makes me sick.
The legislators proposing and passing these laws rely on lies and fearmongering tactics to gain public support. They use “protecting kids” as a scapegoat, when really they are neglecting children.
Society’s current transphobia matches discrimination seen against other minority groups. From a stereotype of predatory behavior previously attributed to gay men, to forced separation between trans people and cisgendered people in public spaces mimicking how people of color have been segregated from white spaces. I don’t mean to say that the experiences of these different minority groups are the same, but it’s important to acknowledge how systems of power in America use the same tactics to isolate and create dangerous narratives about these groups that feed into the general public’s fears.
I encourage y’all to do your own research by checking out evidence-based guidelines for trans health care and the status of anti-LGBTQ+ laws. You can support and learn from local groups like the Lavender Rights Project and Trans Women of Color Solidarity Network, two collectives fighting for trans people’s safety.
By staying informed, we can stand for the wellbeing and safety of all trans people. Most of what I’m saying has been said by many trans people before, but we will keep saying it until change happens.
Micah J. is a 17-year-old Black transmasculine dancer and choreographer born and raised in Seattle.
Read more of the April 3–9, 2024 issue.