New York, USA – June 7, 2014: Facade of the New York Times headquarters building in Midtown Manhattan. Photo credit: mizoula

The New York Times’ Statement in response to The Anti-Trans Hate Machine: a Plot Against Equality Season 2 Episode 5 Capturing The New York Times:

“We reject the claim that our coverage is biased. The role of an independent news organization is to report on issues of public importance and follow the facts where they lead. 

As part of that mission, we’ve reported fully and fairly on transgender issues ranging from challenges and prejudice faced by the community, to the fight for expanding rights and freedoms, and open debates about care. Our coverage has been rigorously reported and edited, respectful of the people we’re covering and sensitive to the moment. It is providing a vital service to the LGBTQ+ community and our readership. 

The New York Times has published hundreds of articles — with a collective word count well over 330,000 — specifically on discrimination against transgender people and/or anti-transgender legislation since January 2020.”

TransLash’s Unanswered Questions of The New York Times

#1

How does The New York Times respond to our reporting that found the paper is laundering the myth of social contagion and other anti-trans disinformation in its pages? If the paper claims not to have an anti-trans bias, why doesn’t it properly contextualize or qualify anti-trans pseudoscience nor the organizations like Genspect which propagate it?

#2

Is it true that specific people in Times leadership believe that transness is a social contagion and are more inclined to run stories that support the idea of social contagion and to do so without the application of the paper’s own journalistic standards?  

#3

How has The New York Times responded internally to the concerns raised by staff about anti-trans bias and the paper not meeting its own journalistic standards on this topic? 

#4

Our reporting found that staff who go through the existing internal channels to hold The New York Times to its own journalistic standards are not taken seriously. And those who continually push for journalistic integrity on this issue internally are met with negative professional consequences by management. Why is that?

#5

Can The Times provide insight into why Dean Baquet shared Harper’s email with the masthead?

#6

Can The Times provide any insight into why Emily Bazelon’s piece “The Battle Over Gender Therapy” received the Publisher’s Award? How does A.G. Sulzberger respond to our reporting that found the piece elevates disinformation and gives credibility to the organizations and sources spreading that disinformation without qualification nor context?

#7

How does The New York Times respond to reporting from us that the Chairman AG Sulzberger is trying to push the paper to the right in order to appeal to right-wing audiences?

#8

Is it true that members of The Times masthead read and shared anti-trans posts from Bari Weiss’ substack with other masthead members? 

#9

As we reported, the New York Times dedicated 10,000 words of front-page coverage to raising concerns about medical care for trans youth in 2022, yet zero front page stories were dedicated to the nationwide, persistent and coordinated attacks to take away gender affirming healthcare from trans youth in that year. Given what stories the New York Times is choosing to center and elevate, how can the New York Times deny anti-trans bias in its coverage?

#10

Why is The New York Times conflating the contributor letter raising journalistic concerns with the GLAAD letter, by explicitly ignoring the former? Do leaders at The New York Times not believe that there was a difference between them? And was the lack of silence on the contributor letter a tactic to avoid addressing their points? 

#11

Is the New York Times concerned that its reporting—specifically its lack of contextualization of organizations and people who are skeptical, questioning or hostile to gender-affirming care—has been used or cited by anti-trans activists and lawmakers intent on denying health care and other rights to transgender people? Specifically, Texas lawmakers citing Times reporting in court to bolster their argument against families of trans youth, or the Attorney General of Arkansas who cited biased New York Times articles in an amicus brief supporting an Alabama law that criminalizes doctors and parents who provide trans youth with healthcare. What actions is The New York Times considering to possibly address those concerns?

#12

One concern we heard from staff was that trans voices were often left out of key conversations. Our research has found that to be largely accurate. Of the 330,000 words that the New York Times dedicated to attacks on transgender people and our rights, do you have data on how often the voices of transgender people were included in those pieces?

#13

One common theme throughout our investigation was that staffers said masthead leadership—including Carolyn Ryan, Cliff Levy and Pamela Paul—refused to apply the paper’s rigorous editorial standards to unsubstantiated or disputed claims about transgender care, and/or routinely defended stories that misidentified anti-trans activists as experts who spoke on those matters. Can you clarify the standard as it exists now? Can the NYT provide other examples where the political motivations of activists were not disclosed in favor of generic titles of authority?

#14

Did anyone on the masthead, including Pamela Paul, ever raise the factual and ethical concerns to Jesse Signal that were brought up internally by Times Out and other staff members about his review of Helen Joyce’s book?

#15

Did Jesse Singal’s article ever go through the standard fact checking process and, if so, were there ever any issues raised by that fact check?

#16

In the statement you provided, the New York Times defends its reporting on trans issues, saying the paper has published hundreds of articles “specifically on discrimination against transgender people and/or anti-transgender legislation since January 2020.” TransLash’s extensive analysis of New York Times coverage of trans issues found disinformation and anti-trans pseudoscience to be regularly elevated in these articles without correction or context. How does the New York Times respond to these findings and does the New York Times have any standards or guidelines for correcting anti-trans bias in its pages?

Listen to the episode of The Anti-Trans Hate Machine where TransLash investigates The New York Times:

Access the full transcript for Capturing The New York Times here.

Did you find this resource helpful? Consider supporting TransLash today with a tax-deductible donation.

The post The New York Times Responds To TransLash Media appeared first on TransLash Media.

Born in New Orleans, Louisiana, in 1943, Sir Lady Java is a Black trans entertainer and activist who moved in the same circles as James Brown, Richard Pryor, Don Rickles, Lena Horne, Rudy Ray Moore (better known as Dolemite), Sammy Davis Jr., and more.

For Black History Month and every month, we at TransLash honor trans icons like Sir Lady Java, who continue to inspire us today.

By Zarina Crockett and Daniela “Dani” Capistrano for TransLash Media, video editing by Brennen Beckwith

Sir Lady Java Explainer Transcript

Zarina: Hey TransLash fam!

Step into the spotlight of Sir Lady Java: a pioneer and trailblazer for transgender rights and the entertainment industry.

Born in the vibrant heart of New Orleans in 1943, Lady Java was someone who knew from a young age that she was destined to shine and she did just that in a world that was not ready for her light.

Java’s charisma uniqueness and talent made her an iconic pillar of Los Angeles nightlife.

She was adored by many for her performances and her amazing look.

Lady Java challenged rule Number 9, which was a law that targeted trans reformers. It basically said that you can’t perform or crossdress without a specialized permit.

Lady Java was important to pioneering the fight for transgender rights. Her legacy of activism glamour and the full perspective of a life of a Black transgender woman still endures today.

Sir Lady Java’s story inspires us all to live authentically and fight for every voice to be heard.

Learn more about Sir Lady Java or other icons in Black trans history in the Black Trans History Month Guide at translash.org.

Did you find this resource helpful? Consider supporting TransLash today with a tax-deductible donation.

The post Sir Lady Java: Black Trans Woman and Icon appeared first on TransLash Media.

It’s been a difficult time to be transgender in the US recently. Republicans have turned our very existence into election fodder and the conservative media ecosystem is seemingly obsessed with us, our healthcare, and our demonization.

In a very short period of time, our society went from attempting to learn the etiquette around using trans peoples’ pronouns, to it being socially acceptable for numerous conservative media members to call for our elimination. Even some previously supportive liberal allies have decided that we’re expendable as long as our elimination helps them win elections.

It’s difficult to describe to outsiders who aren’t paying attention just how swiftly the political situation has shifted under trans people’s feet in this country. It feels like dark days are certainly ahead for American trans people.

But there are rays of trans hope poking their way through the ever-darkening cloud of conservative hate.

First and foremost has been a relatively unexpected boost from the federal court system, which had temporarily blocked anti-trans bills in Florida, Tennessee, Indiana, Arkansas, and Tennessee from taking effect. Though two of those laws have since been allowed to go into effect by circuit courts, even conservative judges have had difficulty justifying the worst bills conservative state legislatures managed to pass this past year.

In mid-June, Robert Hinkle, a Clinton-appointed federal district judge, made two important determinations in his written ruling granting an injunction temporarily blocking Florida’s ban on gender-affirming care for trans youth. He declared that gender identity is real, pointing out that even the state’s preferred doctor witnesses, who spoke during a seven-day trial, all admitted that gender identity exists as a concept. He also found that the law, which in recent weeks began affecting access to care for even adult Floridians, is likely to be found unconstitutional because it specifically targets a distinct minority without a viable state interest.

In a ruling that temporarily blocked a similar bill in Indiana, a Trump-appointed federal judge found that gender-affirming care for trans youth provides a positive effect on mental health. “There’s evidence that puberty blockers and cross-sex hormone therapy reduces distress for some minors diagnosed with gender dysphoria,” Hanlon said in his ruling in mid-June. “The risk or irreparable harm, therefore, supports a preliminary injunction.”

It’s not all good news on the legal front however, on July 8, a conservative-majority 6th circuit panel allowed the care ban in Tennessee to go into effect. A few days later, the federal judge allowed Kentucky’s ban to go into effect as well, citing the previous ruling in favor of the state of Tennessee. Even the Tennessee ruling favoring conservatives was tepid, with the majority openly declaring that they do not know if their own ruling is correct.

In the end, all of the federal court machinations over these laws will end up before the Supreme Court, where trans rights face a likely uphill battle. Even on that front, there is reason for slight hope. Despite the 6-3 conservative majority that represents the court’s current ideological makeup, there are still two conservatives, Chief Justice John Roberts and Justice Neil Gorsuch, who ruled in favor of LGBTQ employment rights in Bostock v Clayton County. Those two conservatives could potentially have a sympathetic ear and could join with the three liberal justices in further trans-related cases, however unlikely that scenario seems at first glance.

Beyond the current court situation, there are some state legislative developments that should encourage trans people and give us hope. At the forefront of that are the trans-safe refuge laws that have been passed by blue state legislatures.

These bills offer legal protection to trans people and caretakers of trans youth who move to the state to escape red-state persecution. In other words, if a family with a trans kid from Texas were to move to California, which passed a refuge law last year, California would not honor extradition or investigation requests from Texas law enforcement agencies who may be investigating the family for providing their trans child with gender-affirming care.

So far 11 blue states and the District of Columbia have passed such laws, and they’ve been key in facilitating the burgeoning internal trans refugee crisis in the US. According to a Data For Progress report, 40% of trans Americans have considered moving to a safer, bluer state to escape state legislature persecution.

While this type of legislation certainly won’t help every red state trans person, it shows that there are government officials at varying levels who aren’t ready to give up on us. Just this week, Wisconsin Democratic governor Tony Evers made a big deal on Twitter for vetoing a transphobic bill passed by the state’s gerrymandered state legislature.

Ultimately, political hope for trans people should come from the existence of politicians like Evers, or even in electing candidates who themselves are trans. Delaware State Senator Sarah McBride has perhaps the best shot in recent history to become the first-ever openly trans congressperson as she recently announced a run for the newly vacated seat in her state.

Electing more trans people would mean the GOP would be forced to work opposite people like us while they systematically try to legislatively stamp us out of society. But beyond just electing more trans people, there are early signs that the Republican obsession with trans people is backfiring electorally.

One early prognostication indicator for the election appetite of the country is how the parties perform in off-cycle special elections, and so far, it seems like Democrats are significantly overperforming expectations heading into the 2024 presidential election year.

Last week, in Wisconsin’s 24th Assembly district special election, Republican Paul Melotik won over their Democratic challenger by 7 percent. However, the district in question is historically very red. During the last election, it went Republican +23. That Democrats came within seven points of winning such a red district in a low-turnout special election is incredibly encouraging — and is a sign that Republican transphobia is an election-losing issue.

Historically, this has almost always been the case, despite many centrist attempts to tie Democratic losses to support for trans people. In 2016, in a red wave election that put Donald Trump in the White House, the patient zero of Republican transphobia, former North Carolina Governor (of HB2 bathroom bill infamy) Pat McCrory lost his election and Republicans haven’t been able to reclaim the governor’s mansion ever since, despite gerrymandering a vast majority in the state’s legislature.

In 2022, a whole string of anti-trans politicians saw their election campaigns falter and fail, with the notable exception of Florida governor Ron DeSantis, who is now in the midst of one of the most pathetic runs for president from a legitimate contender in recent memory. Truly Jeb Bush vibes there.

Republican transphobia failing to land with everyday voters shouldn’t be all that surprising. Most voters don’t know a single trans person, which serves as a double-edged sword of its own. Not knowing a trans person helps the GOP lie about and demonize trans people for a wide audience, but at the same time, basing your party’s entire political agenda around a demographic that most people simply have no interaction with means your platform will have little to no relevance to voters’ everyday lives.

Ironically, it may be that our small numbers as a people that offers us the political salvation we’re all hoping for. None of these instances of hope are all-encompassing, after all, there are no magic bullets in civil rights struggles. But taken together, they all add up to hope for trans people. And we could all use a little hope right now.

Katelyn Burns (she/her) is a freelance journalist and columnist for MSNBC. She was the first openly transgender Capitol Hill reporter in US history.

The post Rays of Trans Hope Break Through the US Political Landscape appeared first on TransLash Media.

Learn about Abigail Shrier and her anti-trans book Irreversible Damage in Episode 4 of The Anti-Trans Hate Machine Animated Series, a companion to Season 2 of TransLash Media’s podcast series The Anti-Trans Hate Machine: A Plot Against Equality.

‘A Voice For Anti-Trans, Mass Media’ Transcript

“Today I’m going to explore how Abigail Shrier, someone with no real scientific or medical credentials, has become a go to source for spreading anti-trans disinformation, especially about trans kids across the media landscape.

Shrier started as a lawyer with an Ivy League education, but ended up with an opinion column at the Wall Street Journal.

There, she pushed the junk science concept of Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria.

Using anti-trans fear, ultimately led to a publishing deal for her book, Irreversible Damage: The Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters.

Her book argues that social influences make kids trans and that parents need to reclaim the home as a place where moms and dads model strict gender roles to stop social contagion.

By moving from channel to channel, the buzz around Shrier’s book got louder and louder and eventually became impossible to ignore.

She was a regular fixture of Tucker Carlson on Fox News, which before its cancellation, was the highest news program on any cable news channel, as well as Joe Rogan‘s podcast, which has an audience of over 11 million listeners making it the number one podcast on Spotify, and these are just a few.

The vast reach of these outlets, and her voice is why the appeal for parents to resist when kids say that they are trans has found its way to ever larger audiences.”

Share this story and learn more by visiting

www.translash.org/antitranshatemachine.

About This Series

The Anti-Trans Hate Machine Animated Series, part of our #AntiTransHateMachine campaign, explains in easy to access videos how anti-trans pseudoscience and disinformation has become widely accepted as fact. From conversion therapy, to rapid onset gender dysphoria, to “watchful waiting,” a vast network of Christian Nationalist organizations and bad-actors have used both rightwing and mainstream media to change the way an entire nation thinks about the validity of trans people.

Did you find this resource helpful? Consider supporting TransLash today with a tax-deductible donation.

The post A Voice For Anti-Trans, Mass Media’: Animated Short appeared first on TransLash Media.

States across the country are introducing waves of legislation that target LGBTQ+ people, but especially trans people. The ACLU is currently tracking a staggering 491 anti-LGBTQ bills in the 2023 legislative session. Conservative states like Texas, Florida, Iowa, and South Carolina are homes for particularly aggressive bills. 

The Florida Senate has already passed an extreme ban on gender-affirming care for minors, criminalized bathroom use for trans people, and restricted drag performances. Trans people in Florida are already feeling the effects, are planning to leave, or have already left the state — especially families with trans minors.

The decision to move away isn’t available to everyone, as some trans folks who would like to leave the state are unable to due to familial, financial, or legal reasons. For those who do flee, coping with this decision is much more than just logistical. It’s also deeply emotional, with many feeling a mix of grief, guilt, regret, and relief. 

TransLash spoke to six trans Floridians, some who have already left, and some who are preparing to leave, about the emotional impact of escaping a place that is dangerous — but is also your home.

Oliver  

Oliver (he/him) is a 22-year-old transmasc Miami resident who left Florida for New York City. In Florida, he worked as a teacher and made the decision to leave because he “could not build a life down there [in Florida] as a transgender educator.”

For Oliver, the decision to leave made sense from a logistical standpoint: “As a transgender individual, Florida is scary enough (and that was before I left), but being a transgender worker in the very field in which my community is being attacked is terrifying. It was also, logistically speaking, not the right decision for me to start building a pension and saving for retirement in a career that I could potentially be fired from in the coming years due to my identity. From a financial standpoint — passion and love aside — one of the only things that makes teaching worth it is the stability of the career. Florida’s teacher salary is among the lowest in the country, and without job stability due to me being trans, it wasn’t a viable option for me. I moved a few months ago. Had I stayed in Florida, my access to healthcare would probably have been compromised as well.”

Emotionally, Oliver says it’s heartbreaking that for some people, their home always gets to feel safe. “But for me, it’s different. I always say that I don’t hate Florida, Florida hates me,” he says. “I wasn’t forced out in the sense that I was forced to move to another state or I would be killed, but I was forced out in the sense that I would lose my humanity and dreams for every day I stayed there.”

As a teacher, Oliver says he feels guilty leaving his queer students behind, in a state where “their right to a safe learning space is being challenged every day. I feel like a hypocrite for telling them that everything will be okay if they just keep fighting, but I couldn’t even do it myself. My heart breaks every time another law passes that could endanger a trans kid’s life, or threaten the wellbeing of a queer child. I also worry about my queer friends who can’t afford to just up and leave the entire state they grew up in. I just have to keep reminding myself that I don’t owe anyone a fight. I’m tired of fighting. I just want to be happy.”

Though he was initially worried about moving away from family and friends, Oliver says his mental health is so much better in New York: “Now that I’m here permanently, I can breathe easier. I can go out and see people like me thriving. I feel freer in every sense — freer to advocate for myself and my community, to meet people, to explore, to be open about who I am and what I believe in, to teach effectively and passionately, to love and be loved publicly.”

Oliver said he never thought he, a child of immigrants who came to the US for freedom, would have to move to ensure that freedom. “As hard as it was, the move made my relationship with my family so much stronger. Moving out of Florida was the best decision I’ve ever made. Even though it felt literally impossible, I did it, and it was so worth it,” says Oliver.

Hollen

Hollen (they/he) has lived in Florida for nearly 20 years, and spent the last decade in Jacksonville. Now, the 29-year-old trans-Floridian is leaving along with their family: their fiance and co-parent, both of whom are transfemme, their co-parent’s partner, who is two-spirit, and Hollen’s child. Together, they are planning to go to Portland, Oregon.

“We all have different factors to consider for our lives but Oregon seems to cover all of our needs with its protections in place for trans people and its healthcare, plus we have some friends out there who left Jacksonville about a year ago, so I know it’s possible and it wouldn’t feel like starting over completely,” says Hollen. 

There are a few factors that determined Hollen’s need to leave: access to gender-affirming care, co-parenting a child as two trans adults, and bathroom bans. Most pressing, is the care of Hollen’s child:

“My co-parent and I have been dealing with the legal system while trying to get divorced. We’ve been separated for a long time, but it’s not a pleasant experience, in general, to get a divorce and go in front of a judge and all. With the current legislation in place ‘protecting’ children from becoming transgender, we have been afraid of anything backfiring for us and feel we are at risk of having our identities play into how ‘safe’ a child is in our care because we are trans. We’ve used a few different sets of pronouns for our child through the years at their request. They came out as non-binary at age three and we don’t want to live somewhere where that is cause for concern. We are terrified of losing our child. While it probably won’t happen, it legally could.”

Already, Hollen has made changes to protect their child such as homeschooling them to avoid exposure to “the ridiculous educational standards that DeSantis is enacting, particularly with the new legislation in place that directly affects trans youth in schools by not validating their names and pronouns, [or] bathroom bans,” says Hollen. “We want our child to be comfortable in their identity, to know about things like diversity, and the evils this country has put people through instead of ignoring anything that doesn’t correspond with a very narrow set of beliefs supporting white nationalism.” 

Hollen grew up in Florida, and he says leaving here comes with so much sadness, however necessary the move is:

“My independence and life habits were formed here. I learned to drive here, to maintain a house here, to meet people and make friends in this culture. It is sad to me, the idea of leaving. Every time I walk out my door and see swarms of lizards scatter in every direction with my footsteps, I get choked up. When I see white herons flying overhead, or think about the crystal clear springs I grew up around, or go to the beach for a day with my friends and family, I feel all hollowed out and echo-ey inside. Florida is beautiful, and much of my life has been here, and the idea of moving to somewhere I have so little experience with is terrifying. I talk a lot with friends about how awful Florida is, but the reality is that it’s familiar, and it is my home, and I am sad that I’m leaving due to factors beyond my control.” 

The hardest part, though, is leaving family.

“My family is here,” says Hollen. “My niece and my child are the same age and are great friends. To leave my niece behind when she can’t fully grasp what’s happening or why this is happening is so heart-wrenching. She idolizes me, and I want someone in her life to be representative that you can be who you want to be, no matter what that looks like. I don’t want to take away that aspect of her experience. I don’t want her to feel like she’s being abandoned. I just recently opened up to my mom about leaving so soon and she’s grief-stricken at the idea of never being able to see my child again, not being able to be present in our lives, and not knowing what life holds for me so far away.”

Hollen has a strong community here of transmasc friends, coworkers, and family. The reality of leaving these pillars brings Hollen “anguish beyond words — turmoil.”

But at the same time, there are happier aspects of the move.

“I do feel relief! I feel joy. I feel excited,” he says. “I’m excited to live with my girlfriend and build a new life and routine and home, to rely on each other in new ways and to get to have more depth in our relationship. I’m excited for my child to be able to have more opportunities for friendship and be around more people who are going to understand them, to have more educational opportunities and a welcoming environment. I’m a little jealous that they’re being set up to be the coolest person ever, and glad that we can give them that, in addition to giving them safety and security.”

Cyrus and Grayson

Cyrus (he/they) and Grayson (he/they) are both trans men living together in Orlando. The couple met in cosmetology school in the area — Cyrus, 19, was studying to be a hairdresser and Grayson, 21, a nail technician — and the two moved in together. As soon as Cyrus graduates this Fall, they plan to move together to Philadelphia, to live with Grayson’s sister. 

Both feel they have to leave Florida, as Grayson’s hormone provider is no longer offering testosterone prescriptions.

“My biggest concern right now is having access to our hormones because, obviously, that is important. But also I have PCOS [polycystic ovary syndrome], which is a hormone imbalance. So my testosterone really helps to level out my stuff [and get me] where I need to be,” says Grayson. “We’re sharing our hormones right now, which is not legal or good. I have a few friends who are giving us their spare hormones. That is literally like the only thing that will help us get through the year. The kind of running joke right now is that the community is really just passing around the same $10. [But] what we really need right now is support from everyone.”

“I’ve been fighting with my insurance to have my top surgery covered for probably two years now. I’ve had a lot of consultations, probably five, and all of them have been individually traumatic,” says Cyrus.

Safe access to hormones and gender affirming care is a main motivator to both Cyrus and Grayson. But leaving also comes with risks: Cyrus, 19, received housing support through Florida’s foster care system and stands to lose his benefits when they move. 

During their time in Orlando, the couple has found joy living in “one of the gayest parts of Florida” as Cyrus puts it, building up not only a community, but also financial footholds. When we spoke, Grayson had just started his first day of work as a nail technician. He worries about starting over again and finding a new client base when they leave town. 

“I think it’s important for anybody to leave their hometown, but it’s terrible that I’m being forced into this,” says Grayson. “It’s incredibly sad. Talking to my other trans friends, I feel like it’s just a community-wide sigh, this feeling of like, ‘fuck, this is what is happening right now. This is the place we’re at.’”

For Cyrus, who dealt with housing instability before moving to Orlando, he worries that moving will also impact his education. “I’ve created myself a home and I cannot believe I’m leaving so soon. I had so many more plans and it’s so unfortunate I’m losing my benefits.  I planned to stay in school as long as I can afford it. I wanted my bachelor’s in business. And now I really don’t know when I’ll be able to go back to school. If I go back to school [at all],” they say. 

Along with feeling through their major losses, both are excited for a life in Philly, and with family. They plan for a two-bedroom, where Grayson says, “Our friends can come and stay, and they can figure out their shit. If they wanna go to Colorado or they wanna go to New York we can be a safe space. And it’s something that we both severely value.” 

Haris and B

B (they/she) and their spouse Haris (he/him) have both spent much of their lives in Central Florida. After meeting in Lakeland, Florida in 2014, B and Haris got married in 2017. They moved to Maryland but eventually came back down to Florida to reconnect with their community.

B and Haris made the decision to return to Maryland, with Haris going up first and B joining a few months later.

Haris, a 30-year-old trans man,  says “The decision to leave Florida was simple to me. I feel forced out in more ways than just anti-queer legislation. I felt forced out by rent skyrocketing. I felt forced out by jobs that told me I was family, but disposed of me when I was in need. I felt forced out by so much fake allyship who would rather give you crumbs than take two damn minutes to make a PB&J when you’re in need.”

Haris began his transition in Maryland, but says he had a much harder time accessing care in Florida.

“I never had any issues with [in Maryland] with insurance covering testosterone, and top surgery would’ve been covered but I moved too soon. There was a program that helped me change my name and gave me all the tools to change my gender marker with ease, and it was all free and covered either by government assistance or insurance,” says Haris. “When I got back to Florida, I immediately experienced difficulty in finding a healthcare provider who could both prescribe testosterone and be my primary care doctor. I ended up without a primary care doctor because my insurance got worse and visits became more expensive even though I was making less money. The most recent situation encountered was that I had a hysterectomy consultation scheduled that got canceled immediately after Desantis signed another bullshit law.”

For B, a 29-year-old queer and nonbinary person, watching their sense of safety and community be jeopardized by the government “feels utterly gut-wrenching.” They’d been struggling to reestablish themselves in Florida during the pandemic, but it was getting more and more difficult every year. 

“Haris isn’t my only trans partner. The fear and reality of him and them not only losing access to his medication —  but all of us getting targeted for our genderqueerness — has made the idea of establishing roots here feel utterly impossible,” says B.

Haris says it’s been a huge relief to leave Florida, and he already has access to a primary care doctor and prescribed testosterone. “I feel calm and at rest with myself,” he says. “I’ve been able to start the conversation about getting grant funding for affordable housing for queer Florida refugees. I feel like I have some purpose here and that I can make a difference.”

For B, it’s a bit more complicated. There is some shame, she says, for leaving and a lot of grief:

“[There is a] weight of leaving. Of feeling like most of the choice got taken from us. Feeling like staying meant putting our lives and families’ life at continuous risk. Feeling like leaving is a disservice to the community we want to help fight for and protect. Feeling guilt that protecting our safety felt more important. It all holds a lot of weight. I would love to be able to stay and feel like I can fight and help turn back what has been created. I also want to live. I also want to feel safe. It could be selfish, or it could be dramatic, but I spent a lot of my life not thinking my existence was important and I care about shifting that now. I am grieving the life we could have had here, the roots we could have planted deeper, and how they could have potentially flourished.”

Sara Youngblood Gregory (she/they) is a non-binary lesbian journalist and writer. She is the author of THE POLYAMORY WORKBOOK and a former staff writer for POPSUGAR. She covers sex, queerness, disability, culture, and wellness. Her work has been featured in Vice, Teen Vogue, HuffPost, Bustle, DAME, Cosmo, Jezebel, and many others.

Sara serves on the board of the lesbian literary and arts journal Sinister Wisdom. As a poet, Sara has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best New Voices. She’s also attended the Kenyon Review Workshop in 2019 and 2022, as well as a Winter Tangerine poetry workshop. Her chapbook RUN. is out now.

The post Relief, Loss, and Freedom: 6 Trans People Discuss the Grief of Leaving Florida appeared first on TransLash Media.

Learn more about 4th Wave Now’s influence. This is Episode 3 of The Anti-Trans Hate Machine Animated Series, a companion to Season 2 of TransLash Media’s limited podcast series The Anti-Trans Hate Machine: A Plot Against Equality.

Transcript

“Today, we’re going to tell you the story of 4th Wave Now, a critical force in the anti-trans movement, specifically the sweeping attacks on trans kids.

It’s where parents who are hostile to their trans children gather to find ways to support each other in undermining them.

Now, this sounds far-fetched, but sadly, it’s true.

4th Wave Now is where the idea of transness as a social contagion gained steam, and actually, it’s where the idea of “rapid onset gender dysphoria” originated and was conceptualized by the pseudoscience of Dr. Lisa Littman, who used 4th Wave Now conversations to create the concept.

Based on 4th Wave Now she encourages parents to believe that their kids are being brainwashed by YouTube, or social media, or even their friends.

Trans social contagion has become one of the most potent ideas out there. It has spread far and wide, even to mainstream and supposedly non-biased platforms like The Atlantic magazine.

The problem is it’s based on highly biased research.

And now this idea of social contagion has become a vital piece of right wing propaganda and popularized by writers like Jesse Singal.

Organizations that are apart of the anti-trans hate machine ran focus groups to see the best way to attack the idea of trans people overall.

They landed, spreading the belief that trans youth coming out is some sort of a social contagion.

And now this disinformation has transformed into conventional wisdom.

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About The Series

The Anti-Trans Hate Machine Animated Series, part of our #AntiTransHateMachine campaign, explains in easy to access videos how anti-trans pseudoscience and disinformation has become widely accepted as fact. From conversion therapy, to rapid onset gender dysphoria, to “watchful waiting,” a vast network of Christian Nationalist organizations and bad-actors have used both rightwing and mainstream media to change the way an entire nation thinks about the validity of trans people.

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The post ‘Seduction of Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria’: Animated Short appeared first on TransLash Media.

The ACLU is tracking over 450 anti-LGBT bills in the U.S. In some form, most bills focus on trans identity and claim to protect children from pedophilia. The premise of many of these proposals is that trans people are groomers or secretly cisgendered and broken from abuse. This mythology erases actual trans childhood sexual abuse (CSA) survivors, like myself. 

Ironically, anti-trans legislation creates conditions that will lead to more instances of CSA. There’s a paradox in legislation of centralizing CSA narratives as evidence while dismissing the most harmful parts of CSA survivors’ lived experiences. 

As someone who has been impacted by CSA, it was inherently isolating because nowhere, including my body, felt safe. The future seemed impossible — especially one where I felt whole, respected, and loved. Lastly, it took my language away. I stopped speaking and believed all traces of stability would be ruined otherwise. 

Trans CSA survivors are isolated even further on the political stage by the narrowing of our existence. The legislation diminishes our futures with healthcare bans. They erase our language by censoring schools. Each bill breaks down critical systems we rely on for information and life-saving care. 

For example, this year, Tennessee became the first state to sign a drag restriction, which “protects children from obscene, sexualized entertainment.” Last month, 14 proposals for drag show restrictions declared that visibly gender-expansive people are dangerous to youth. Labeling gender non-conforming adults as predatory and building laws around the visibility of our community further isolates both people who are and aren’t out as trans. Solitude is a primary reason people fall into abuse. It encourages us to accept any kind of love or care. In removing youth from community spaces, it’s more likely they’ll make unsafe decisions in desperation to belong. This sets youth up to blame when the system at hand creates conditions for loneliness. 

Meanwhile, nearly 80% of states on the ACLU’s tracker have bills advancing related to LGBTQ+ students. Many restrict conversations around gender and sexual orientation with clauses like duty-to-report to parents, schools, and/or Child Protective Services when flagging a student’s gender or sexual orientation. Involving these authoritative parties without a person’s consent is bad for survivors. Youth with unsupportive families could be punished privately by family in addition to state-level punishment. Youth with supportive families are now threatened with CPS or school suspension. 

It is harmful when a survivor lacks clarity about the repercussions of disclosing new information about themselves. This is both true for sharing with others the most beautiful parts of life, like a new name or the hardest parts, like being molested. 

Equating LGBTQ+ identity with abuse in schools is additionally damaging. To the legislators of these bills, child abuse is defined as a trans person simply existing: at home, at school, in media, in public, near children, or being a child at all. Without correct definitions of abuse, naming CSA when it happens is delayed. It already takes 17 years for most CSA disclosures to come to light. Removing words relating to our bodies and experiences and replacing them with misinformation creates another generation seeking language and thus resources.

Anti-Trans Legislation Is Abuse Masquerading As Protection

The second most common type of bill bans gender-affirming healthcare for minors, which has passed in Utah and South Dakota, and is advancing elsewhere under names like “Protect Children’s Innocence Act.” If youth seek gender-affirming care, authorities assume it’s because of home abuse and mutilation by doctors. Parents supporting their child’s journey are assumed criminals by law. With so much legislation mislabeling abuse, child welfare agencies are further limited in their ability to help actual survivors. Doctors are criminalized or lose licenses for these health practices. This upholds fascist rhetoric where politicians are experts and, like abusers, promise they’re doing what’s best for you. 

States are now expanding these bills to trans adults, revealing that anti-trans legislation was never about protecting children. Additional healthcare legislation, similar to SB 897 in Oregon, targets incarcerated trans adults. Trans inmates are more likely to be CSA survivors, and these bills make more survivors by placing them in facilities where they’re more vulnerable to being preyed upon. As anti-trans laws pass, more people will enter this pipeline. 

Perhaps the least obvious corruption of CSA narratives is bans on trans youth, especially girls, from sports. These claim we cheat to win, propagating we’re not trustworthy. Additionally, these bills experiment with proving athletes’ gender. In the case of Ohio, legislators hoped to put kids through genital inspections, which reminds us again this was never about protection. Quite the opposite.

Bills in other categories use backward abuse narratives; for instance, a recently proposed bill in Arkansas bars trans adults from using public restrooms in the presence of minors, naming it “sexual indecency with a child.” Or many states are establishing a “Women’s Bill of Rights” emphasizing biological sex which impacts all genders seeking domestic violence services that already narrowly support cis-women. 

It’s worth noting that it’s not only the far-right who believes in many of these myths that link abuse to transness. It is ever-present in liberal communities and even centrist publications. One of the most common misconceptions across the political spectrum is that domestic violence and sexual abuse underlie victims’ decisions to medically transition. 

My experience contradicts this. Abuse has delayed my coming out and transition process. The person who abused me as a child would cut my hair and held a very firm rule that anything above my shoulders was a “boy’s haircut.” A type of gender exploration so basic was a punishable offense.  

To this day, if a cis man asks me about my interest in medically transitioning, I soften my wishes, fearing they might hurt me. If a cis woman asks, I again shrink myself because I don’t want them to associate me with the men who may have hurt them. Ultimately, childhood sexual abuse stamped me with the question — is my body ever my own? To make the choice to explore my gender and transition requires a type of agency many of us CSA survivors are slow to come to. Amongst our local communities and the media at large, it is deeply unfair to speculate that the decision to become yourself is a result of weakness or victimization. Preventing people from transitioning or exploring their genders with legislation will never be the thing that will save them. 

Protecting survivors is listening to survivors. Legislating virtually every space, even a supportive home, promises that help is not for us. To tackle these bills, we need to honor that trans-CSA survivors exist and, at any age, deserve belonging, a voice, and a promise that tomorrow comes without punishment. 

Lexie Bean (they/he) is a trans multimedia artist from the Midwest whose work revolves around themes of bodies, homes, cyclical violence, and queer identity. They are a Jerome Hill Artist Fellow, member of the RAINN National Leadership Council, and a Lambda Literary Award Finalist for their anthology Written on the Body. They have worked with sexual abuse survivors for nearly 15 years, maintaining a special focus on trans victims. They’ve served as a keynote speaker around the US, led over 100 panels and workshops, and collaborated with restorative justice group Hidden Water. Lexie integrated their personal experiences into the acclaimed The Ship We Built, the first middle grade novel centering and written by a trans boy released by a major US publisher. Their work has been featured in Teen Vogue, The New York Times, The Huffington Post, The Feminist Wire, Ms. Magazine, Them, Bust Magazine, Autostraddle, and more. Currently they are working on new book projects, film writing, and co-directing their first feature-length documentary, What Will I Become? Visit www.lexiebean.com for more info or follow them on Instagram.

The post Abuse Didn’t Cause My Transition, It Delayed My Transition appeared first on TransLash Media.

“I came from a very rural conservative space where high schools were segregated and the town was small enough to know everybody. I didn’t learn about transness and queerness until I was about 22,” says El (he/him), a 29-year-old arts educator. He’s sitting in his family’s living room as we speak over Zoom. 

El says he only survived his childhood because he didn’t know he was trans. “It meant that I was traumatized. There were a few out gay and lesbian folks that I knew, but they were not accepted unless they made themselves palatable to other cishet people,” El remembers. His hometown is majority white with many of the stereotypical trappings of conservative Southern communities: religion, racial division, and the pressure to assimilate. For El, coming from a Chicanx family, the whiteness of his hometown added another layer of isolation. It wasn’t until El left for art school in Rhode Island, that the “slow unveiling” of his identity as transmasculine and queer took root.

For Lindsey (they/he), a 25-year-old trans organizer and educator originally from Pennsylvania, it took coming to Florida to finally find their trans community. 

As the child of a devout Evangelical preacher, Lindsey says, “Everything in my life was centered around the church,  the church community, and the idea that one day I would get married to a man and have kids and do exactly what everyone around me did.” So they often locked horns with not only their family but also the conventions of the gender binary. In 2017, Lindsey’s parents found out they were in a queer relationship, and sent Lindsey to conversation therapy. Soon after, Lindsey was disowned. 

“When I was kicked out, my friends drove up overnight from Kissimmee, Florida to Pennsylvania and picked me up on my driveway. It was the truest, most practical expression of love I could have seen by my queer and trans family members, and at the time I needed to see it,” says Lindsey. They’ve been organizing with queer and trans communities in Florida since, and they recently went viral after injecting testosterone at a Florida board meeting. They have found the love, affirmation, and community they needed as a child — and that community includes El. 

Stories like El and Lindsey’s aren’t the typical stories you hear about Florida. 

The state is often portrayed as a backward, high-rolling playground for the likes of Donald Trump or a “lost cause” state. But the reality is that Florida is also home to a large queer community and their lives are becoming more precarious in the state where they found themselves.  

The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) is currently tracking 10 anti-LGBTQ bills in Florida. All of them are poised to erode queer and trans people’s civil rights and freedom of speech. Some of the most important bills to know about include:

• HB 1223 : Would require that “personal titles and pronouns” match the sex assigned at birth for K-12th students.
• HB 1421: Would prohibit updates to sex on birth certificates, gender-affirming care for minors, and health insurance coverage for gender-affirming care.
• HB 254: Could be used to prosecute medical providers helping trans youth access gender-affirming care, revoke medical licenses, and enable Florida courts to interfere with child custody should guardians seek gender-affirming care for their children. 

These bills represent an aggressive expansion of already-existing laws, like Florida’s controversial “Don’t Say Gay” bill, signed into law in March 2022 by Republican Governor Ron DeSantis. This past month in March 2023, the state’s ban on gender-affirming medical care for minors went into effect. The ban not only makes it a felony to provide these services to minors but also prohibits state funds to be used for trans adults’ healthcare.

It’s easy to shutter at these laws or to just look away. It is also just as easy to laugh at Florida, a place “rolling around in its own shit,” as Lindsey put it. But for people like Lindsey and El, and countless other trans people whose stories we will never know these laws mean that trans people’s right to an education, medical care, and employment aren’t protected It means that their humanity does not not have a home in government, according to the state’s government

“All of this happening is painting genocide as [a form of] gentrification,” El says. Legislation like this, and the transphobic culture behind it, will force people out of their homes, both physical and mental. And El thinks that this attack will ultimately conclude with displacement and death, “You don’t have to kill people to eradicate them. You can kill parts of people’s spirits.” 

Both Lindsey and El feel as if they are held hostage by a rising tide of fascism, even as they fight back and organize. With Desantis at the helm, Florida is rapidly becoming a new ground zero of American-branded white nationalism. 

For those who have no option but to stay here, El says many trans people will be forced to go stealth and look for underground access to hormones and healthcare which increases the potential for harm. 

In no uncertain terms, Florida is in crisis, but so is the entire country. What happens in Florida is already happening elsewhere. Other states are rapidly expanding and coordinating anti-queer and trans legislation. While many in other parts of the country wring their hands thinking “It can’t happen here,” Desantis gears up for a potential 2024 presidential run. His slogan? “Make America Florida.” Florida can either be a call to action or a crystal ball of what’s to come — but either way, what happens here will ripple throughout the rest of the country. 

Sara Youngblood Gregory (she/they) is a non-binary lesbian journalist and writer. She is the author of THE POLYAMORY WORKBOOK and a former staff writer for POPSUGAR. She covers sex, queerness, disability, culture, and wellness. Her work has been featured in Vice, Teen Vogue, HuffPost, Bustle, DAME, Cosmo, Jezebel, and many others.

Sara serves on the board of the lesbian literary and arts journal Sinister Wisdom. As a poet, Sara has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best New Voices. She’s also attended the Kenyon Review Workshop in 2019 and 2022, as well as a Winter Tangerine poetry workshop. Her chapbook RUN. is out now.

The post For Trans Floridians, The State Is Home And Hostile Territory appeared first on TransLash Media.