In 2009, feeling a need for an event to balance the Transgender Day of Remembrance, the first Transgender Day of Visibility was held. The event was held this year on the 31st of Match, providing a way to celebrate living transgender people.
The event has grown, including being officially recognized by President Joe Biden for the first time this year. Indeed, the executive branch took the opportunity to roll out a number of trans and nonbinary related policies, including allowing for an “X” for United States passports.
These are good things, and I should feel happy about the same. And yet, on a day of visibility, I feel as if I’d rather get a day to be invisible.
I feel the need to put a caveat into this piece. I know that my own involvement with Transgender Day of Remembrance might make this sound like I’m bitter about the attention paid to the Transgender Day of Visibility, or that there’s some feud between the two.
Far be this from the truth.
This year we are dealing with hundreds of anti-transgender bills being introduced in statehouses across the country. These bills will deny us from sports in schools, deny us from using appropriate facilities, deny us from getting care, deny us from reading and learning about trans people like ourselves, and even deny us our very families.
Of course, this has always started to reverberate at the Federal level, with Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene threatening a federal version of Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill should the GOP return to power.
Meanwhile, transgender people, either generally or specifically, are being attacked every day. Athletes like Lia Thomas are being accused of having a bilabial advantage” when they win, and of “sandbagging” when they lose. We’re incorrectly called “groomers” in order to whip of fears of pedophilia and trafficking. We’re even referred to as a “contagion,” as if to label us a thing to be eradicated.
In short, we are most definitely visible to our opponents. It feels like we’re wearing an archery target every day of the year, and every day, it’s one more wound.
Meanwhile, our allies — such as they are — are making nice statements and posting flags on their Twitters.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that they’ve done something, but instead of something concrete that can help fight back against the hatred, we tend to get a day with trans-flag draped sentiments, liberally coated in treacle.
What’s more, those who stand against us will claim that these milquetoast statements will somehow show how powerful the transgender community is, how oppressed they are, and how they must valiantly stand against it all.
I’m very glad for the changes that the Biden Administration has put in place, both on TDoV and before. At the same time, the Obama Administration made similar strides, only to see the Trump Administration strip those away. Without actual law, passed by Congress, these changes are only as secure as we have an administration that cares to press for them.
I probably don’t need to note that, even with laws in place, they will need to be defended, and likely more than a few times. Just look at Roe V. Wade for an example of that. Or, at least while it still exists.
We live in a precarious time, and I’m honestly not sure how this will all play out. Don’t get me wrong, I remain hopeful, but very wary. More than that, I’m very tired. A lot of us are.
I want to go back to the roots of the Transgender Day of Visibility. I want to think of this beyond what it seems to be becoming in some circles. I want this to be a time to celebrate ourselves, not a time for well-meaning allies — and corporations eager to sell trans pride colors cookies and such — to pander to the fairly scant transgender dollar.
Right now, it feels as if the two days on our trans calendar is a day focused on our deaths and a day where we are asking to be seen. I want something more.
For many of us, we choose to be visible every day of the year. I choose to stand up, in the hope that others may feel they, too, can be seen. I know I am nowhere alone in that. That is the sort of visibility I want to see in this world. That is the sort of visibility that is vital to our continued existence. It means a lot more to me than some nice words on a social media site, particularly from companies who may not ever speak of trans issues — or hire transgender people.
To my community, I wish a time when we can join again in the sun, in joy. To dance and sing together. To feel free. I want to wish a happy transgender day of vitality: a time when we can just live our best lives.
Maybe that is it. Maybe we need more days on our calendars:
I want a trans day of community, of Kinship, and of comradeship.
I want a trans day of sanctuary, of safety, and of security.
I want a trans day of jubilation, of joy, and of happiness.
This year, however, I’d probably settle for a trans day of leaving us the hell alone.
Gwen Smith wonders who would be on the transgender dollar. You’ll find her at www.gwensmith.com/.