Trans People Should Stay Alive Because I Love Them

A queer survival guide from a scared, angry, queer therapist

Everything is bullshit and I hate everything.

Let me level with you, the past nine days have been a waking nightmare and my nervous system has not really been calm since November. I don’t have any hope or veneered positivity left. I wish I had something I could say that would make the world kinder and more gentle for you. I am not sure I do. But, I have read a lot of books and done a lot of therapy and been in school forever, so I will offer what I have.

Hil Malatino, a trans researcher, explores suicide (and other bad experiences) that often come with being trans but rarely get talked about in his book “Side Effects: On Being Trans and Feeling Bad”. Pulling from some other big voices in Queer and Gender Studies, he argues that we can understand the elevated rate at which trans people kill themselves and experience suicidal ideation as a result of not seeing a future for themselves where they will be cared for, supported, and given the resources they need. Said a different way, people stay alive if they believe they have a reasonable chance of living a good life.

With the current onslaught of messages and government activities targeting and villainizing trans people, it feels easy to believe the lie that the future ahead of us will not be worth living. I want to acknowledge the fear and pain that we all feel. That fear and pain is real. 

I also want to offer the future I see for us.

I spend most of my time either with trans people or thinking about trans people. I have lived my life in a trans body and have learned to see the world through a trans perspective. First and foremost, I love trans people. I love them deeply. I love them completely; for all their faults. I love what they do for and to the world. When I think of the future, I see it full of happy, old, creative trans people.

In a time of incredible cruelty, I want to write a love letter.

Trans people are strong. We knit ourselves together with bravery. We take pain and transmute it into golden authenticity that captivates and encourages. We remind all those around us that they too can be their truest selves. We clothe ourselves with joy. We intimidate. We challenge, we poke, we prod. We have been in every meaningful space, fought for every meaningful change, have shaped history itself in ways that have been felt and will be felt for as long as humans breathe. We have never failed. We don’t give up. We fight unceasingly.

Trans people are sacred. Trans people, throughout time and every culture, have existed- usually in places of honor. We are the priests, the witches, the healers. We stand outside of the known and hold the door open to possibilities. We speak in whispers, in shouts, in prayers to the moon and each other and divinity itself. We know the shadow and carry death with us. We are not afraid to be hated, to be scorned, to be cast out. Our people are spirit and flesh. They cannot kill an idea. They cannot kill hope. We know the light of creation, recreation, and resurrection. We choose life so ardently, we cannot accept it in half measure. We will cut off whatever does not serve us if it means we get to live, and we will live and live and live. 

Trans people are wise. We carry knowledge in our scars and braids. We carry the light of generations past, of closets and parades, of hospitals and pink triangles, we hold love- we know love- in ways that others can only see dimly. We have fought for every inch of ourselves and our life and know the rough edges of prison bars and the prick of sharp needles. You cannot scare us forever, for we are tempered in the world’s worst flame and come out flexible, clean, and refined. We bring balance, we speak peace, we see with vision unclouded by tricks and schemes. We tell the truth, speak truth to power, and govern ourselves. We can show you the way. We apologize when we cause harm. We hold ourselves accountable. We live with integrity. 

Trans people are exquisitely human. We fart and burp and have body hair. We have sex and spend money in stupid ways and fight with each other. We wear silly clothes and say silly things and walk with an exaggerated sway in our hips. We name ourselves silly things, we call ourselves silly things, we make silly choices. We are not afraid to live, to experience life, to drink deeply- even if there are surprise chunks. We look at each other, giggle, and skinny dip in the lake. We reject what isn’t for us, we accept what is. We struggle and cry and get lost. Our voices shake, we shave our heads, we read lots of things. We are entirely mediocre, we are entirely extraordinary. We change and grow and defy expectations or classification. We give each other permission. We get fat or get skinny, we paint our nails, we pierce things, we draw all over our bodies. We let ourselves love what we love, hate what we hate, do what we need to do. We learn to live together. We take living seriously. We respect what matters. We put on our jester hats and jangle about in holy places. We sanctify.

Trans people create. Trans people push culture forward. We are all, every one of us, artists. We take what we have been given and turn it into something that feels like us. We see new things, we see better things. We birth new ideas, new experiences, new ways of being and doing. We look beyond what is, pulling from what has been, to generate what will be. We move and dance and breathe in color. We are original and we belong to each other. We recognize the light within us and see that light in each other. We listen to the rhythm of things and feel alive in the vibration. We do not stagnate, we do not spoil. We are eternal. We live boldly in the present moment, in a flash of blinding glory.

As I write this letter with my trans-colored acrylic nails, I think about how scared I am and, paradoxically, how sure I am that trans people will continue living lives that change the world for the better. I want to believe that each trans life is connected, like stars in a constellation, and that we can feel each other- even if only faintly. If that is true, I want to send you the love I have for you. I hope you feel it.

To my trans readers, I want to offer a two-part suggestion and make a promise.

I know how tired you might feel and how overwhelmed you might be. If you don’t have the space to try something else, skip this part. I trust you to know what you need. 

If you have some space and resources available to you, I suggest that you find one person who can help keep you grounded and stable during this time. Find someone who sees you and can tell you the truth about how amazing you are. Find someone who loves you. Secondly, I suggest that you be that stable person for someone else. Our community is about giving love and receiving love. We do best when we link arms together.

Now my promise. I know we are seeing people and institutions fail us right now. It's almost too much to bear. But I can offer this promise: I will not stop fighting for trans people. I love trans people. I love them fervently and actionably. I want to do everything I can to create a world where trans people get to live lives that are good and worth living. I know there are many people like me out there too. You can find us if you look.

I don’t know much more than that. But I am going to stop writing now and stop doomscrolling the news because my husband is home and we are going to go and take our dog for a walk. Afterwards we are going to have dinner, something easy to make that we both like, and then play some video games. I will wake up tomorrow, as will you, and keep doing the work in front of me. I wish this future for you too, gentle reader. May you find the people who love you, feel the love we are all sending to you, have rejuvenating rest, and meaningful work to do. Trust yourself, find your people, reach out for help, be helpful.

I love you.