Just before Christmas, my 4-year-old caught that dreadful stomach bug making its rounds at school. After hours of illness, she finally fell asleep on my chest around 1 a.m. I knew we’d likely be in for a sleepless night—something that seems less daunting four years into parenthood.
Lying there in the dark, watching her breathe uneasily while she twirled her stuffed monkey’s tail in her sleep, everything felt straightforward. To her, I was just Dad, there to take care of her. To me, she was my child, and I’d love and protect her through anything. Nothing else mattered.
In those quiet moments, I often wonder what lawmakers who vilify transgender individuals would say to our family. Do they genuinely believe my child shouldn’t feel loved and safe because I am trans? It’s heartbreaking to think the world would try to harm my child simply because she has a transgender parent. And what about those parents who have held their trans kids during tough times? The message they receive in this hostile anti-trans environment is that their children don’t deserve protection and care. Those beautiful kids we welcome into this world with hopes and dreams somehow become seen as disposable.
Real people suffer due to laws like North Carolina’s House Bill 2 (H.B.2) and the new bills popping up nationwide. These laws suggest that transgender individuals are a threat, as if we wake up one day and just decide to change our gender. But that’s not how it works.
No one chooses to struggle in a world that often feels hostile. There’s nothing fake about our lives. Most of us endure painful years of denial before coming to terms with our identities. When we finally emerge from that struggle, it’s devastating to face the vitriol from lawmakers across the country.
Sure, our bodies might not conform to societal expectations of gender, but why does that inspire a movement against us? Human experiences are diverse and complex, and that diversity is what makes life beautiful. Do you think my scars, reminders of life-saving surgery, matter when my child needs her dad? Do they even register when I’m fully clothed in a restroom or changing in a locker room stall? Is it worth enacting laws that imply my child’s father doesn’t belong in society? Or worse, that children coming to terms with their truths shouldn’t exist?
Those scars are evidence of life-saving treatment, not “adverse outcomes” of “experimental” procedures as some opponents claim. They symbolize my survival and my truth. Thanks to healthcare, a loving family, and supportive community, I’ve made it to adulthood—a privilege many trans folks, especially women and femmes of color, often don’t experience.
As an attorney at the ACLU, I take seriously my responsibility to advocate for my community. I spend my days battling against the myriad of proposed laws that send the message that transgender individuals shouldn’t receive legal protection or, even worse, that we shouldn’t exist.
Every day, I sift through arguments suggesting that it would be simpler if transgender people just disappeared. One so-called expert defending North Carolina’s anti-trans law, Dr. Allan Smith, claimed that a transgender individual is simply deluded. This fringe view is rejected by every major medical association in the U.S., including the American Medical Association and the American Psychological Association, yet it continues to inform damaging policies.
It feels utterly wrong to advance these laws while trans youth are suffering. Recent surveys indicate that 40% of transgender individuals have considered suicide—nearly nine times higher than the national average. These statistics don’t imply that allowing trans individuals to exist is harmful; they reflect the systemic discrimination and rejection we face.
When our healthcare is denied, our ability to use restrooms is restricted, and our lives are endangered, it can make the world feel unlivable. I know what that feels like, as did Jamie Carter, a 19-year-old trans woman from California, who tragically took her own life just before the New Year. Like my own child, Jamie likely snuggled in her parents’ arms as a toddler, filled with love and dreams for the future. Those dreams were extinguished by a society that turned its back on her. A parent’s love is crucial; however, sometimes it isn’t enough against such overwhelming cruelty.
In the wake of their daughter’s passing, Jamie’s parents poignantly stated, “To be different in a world that often doesn’t embrace diversity is a challenge many can’t fathom. We can work together to make this world safer and kinder for youth like Jamie, treating everyone with dignity and respect, no matter how different they may seem.”
We have choices to make as individuals and as a society about the kind of world we want to create. If we allow fear of difference to rule our actions, we condemn young people like Jamie to a reality that tells them they are unwanted. We must strive for better.
I wear my identity as a trans person with pride. I am committed to advocating for my community, and I believe that together, we can build a safer and more compassionate world for our children and the generations before us who paved the way for our dreams.
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Summary: As a trans dad and attorney, I fight against harmful anti-trans legislation to protect my family. Through personal experiences and observations of societal injustices, I advocate for love, acceptance, and the safety of all trans individuals and their families. The world must choose kindness over cruelty.