The only reason I'm coping right now

[CW: anti-trans legislation, mentions of violence and death]

When I think about transness being a gift, I instantly think of the best people that I know in the world, and how it is not coincidental that they are trans as well – rather, it makes complete sense.

– Travis Alabanza, None Of The Above

The last two weeks – since the Supreme Court ruling on the legal definition of ‘women’ under the Equality Act 2010 – have been incredibly hard. I’m far from alone in struggling; I don’t know any trans person who is ok right now. I’m scared and sad and absolutely furious, but who isn’t? 

I feel like a complete mess, and the only reason I’m coping to the extent I am is other trans people.

I wouldn’t be here today without trans people. Without the trans people in my life, who have supported me and been there for me. The trans people who have checked in on me over the last two weeks and encouraged me to take care of myself. 

Like the friend who organised a potluck picnic for Trans Day of Visibility. Based solely on hearing me mention Trans Day of Snack last year, they made posters and baked a cake and turned up in high-vis with blankets. Without even realising that Gender Reveal was encouraging people to organise community events for Trans Day of Getting Out And Having A Nice Snack this year, they brought together more than twenty trans people together to be visible and eat snacks. 

And when they hadn’t heard from me in the days running up to the picnic, they reached out and told me how much it would mean to them if I was able to come. They helped me figure out a way I could make it without pushing myself into sensory overwhelm, and I’m so glad I did. 

There’s the friend who sent me money to buy myself ice-cream when I was struggling, knowing I needed a reason to make myself leave the flat. She congratulates me on getting outside. She teases me and makes me laugh, but she also makes me feel safe enough to joke back.

The friend and fellow journalist I message to awkwardly ask if they’re part of a union. They replied not only with information about which union they’re in, but also with a suggestion for a story they felt I would be perfect to cover. 

The friend who sends me voice notes and selfies and solidarity from across the Atlantic. We talk about kink and polyamory and hormones, sharing stories of how we navigate cisgender gatekeeping in our respective healthcare systems. 

There’s also my girlfriend, who makes me feel adored, every single day. Who shared their Dropout password with me so we could watch the first episode of the new Game Changer season together. I went on to watch several other episodes on the day of the Supreme Court decision, losing myself in the easy, inclusive comedy of the show. Later that week, they suggested we watch another episode or two together – it wasn’t our usual date night, but both of us were struggling and wanted the comfort of live-texting our thoughts to each other as we watched a show we both love. 

They suggested we watch Do I hear $1? – an episode I’d already watched on my own. But I cannot describe the joy that expanded in my chest when they explained that they suggested it because one of the cast (Grant O'Brien) mentions that he’s on PrEP. And they knew I’d like that, because I have become incredibly autistic about PrEP since I started it in 2022.

To be known like that is so beautiful. To be loved like this makes the horrors of late-stage-capitalism and early-stage-fascism bearable. 

To be loved by a trans person is an honour. To be cared for by trans people is a fucking gift. I am so grateful for the trans people who make me feel safe. The trans people who made me feel seen, even before I knew myself. The trans people who have helped me understand myself, and who have sat with me as I’ve begun to unpick the deep-rooted knots of self-hatred inside me. 

These are the people politicians and anti-trans “feminists” – as well as an alarming swathe of mainstream media – are hell bent on depicting as monsters. But they are the reason I smile, the reason why my life is as full of joy as it is. They are the reason I am still here, still determined to show up in the face of a slew of anti-trans hatred. 

I am holding so much fear inside me right now. Fear for the trans people I love and for the trans people I don’t know. The trans people who will be hurt by the Supreme Court ruling and how it is being interpreted. The trans people who will face more violence and bigotry in a world that already presents them with so much violence and bigotry. The trans people who will be – are already being – killed by a moral panic whipped up about our mere existence and rejection of cisnormativity. 

The trans people who cannot be legislated out of existence, no matter how hard our governments try. 

• I've been deeply grateful for Jess O'Thomson's reporting over the last two weeks, and their article for Prospect Magazine is a good place to start if you want to better understand the Supreme Court's ruling and the anti-trans bullshit it's inspired. "The court also noted that the exclusion of trans people from services which match their sex recorded at birth may also be justified due to how they look. For instance, trans men will be unable to use male services (because their original birth certificate recorded them as female), but they may also be unable to use female ones on the basis that they appear too masculine."

• I found Josie Giles' newsletter on tearing up a fence while the Supreme Court ruled both beautiful and grounding. "I see my current disillusionment as a gift: it is the gift of not believing that any state system will look after me, the gift of knowing that I must put my energy into looking after and being looked after by the communities to which I belong. Nobody else is going to tear up the fence. Nobody else is going to plant the tree. You need to find some friends so that you can do it together."
• I related to so much of James Tom's piece for them about changing his name. "I took to faggotry like a fish in water, and with my new gay surroundings came new ways for people to perceive me, and more importantly, new ways for me to perceive myself. To my surprise, I could see myself much more clearly as a beautiful twink than the butch-spectrum dyke I had tried to be for most of my life."
• I'm really glad Tabby Lamb turned this Instagram caption about wanting softness into a newsletter. "but i don’t want to be strong. i want to be soft. i want to be weak. i want to be able to take a day off. i want to walk down the street without fear. i want to get an ‘i love you’ text from my friends and not panic about what’s happened in the news."
• Is John Oliver is doing better journalism than 90% of the cisgender journalists covering trans people in sports? I recommend sharing this Last Week Tonight segment with cis people in your life who have good-faith questions, because he seamlessly debunks common myths about trans athletes with actual research and evidence – all while being incredibly funny.
• Need some more queer romance recommendations? I recently read and enjoyed At Her Service° and For Her Consideration° by Amy Spalding. While the romance in both books was great, I also liked how they emphasised the importance of other aspects of life in addition to romantic relationships, like work and found family. I loved how At Her Service in particular explored the work that goes into building queer community.
• Finally, I love these words about queer pleasure from Leo Herrera – especially the line: "I've read enough about the dangers and self-loathing; I want its giggles and transcendence."