As Transgender Day of Visibility approaches on March 31st, I want to speak directly to the people who’ve never had a real conversation with a transgender person. Not a debate. Not a Reddit thread. Not a soundbite. A genuine, human-to-human moment of listening.
Because I keep seeing one comment over and over again—whether it’s on a news post, a viral video, or someone’s personal coming-out story: “Being transgender is a choice.” And I need you to understand—it’s not.
I don’t say this to shame you, call you ignorant, or make you feel small. I say it because, truly, you might not know. You might have never heard this from someone who’s lived it. So this piece is for you.
Let’s walk through it—carefully, honestly, and with as much humanity as possible.
No, Being Transgender Is Not a Choice
Many—if not most—transgender people did not “choose” to be trans. We just are.
It’s not a decision we made one morning. It’s not a lifestyle we picked because it looked trendy on TikTok. It’s not a rebellion against society, or a phase, or a political statement. It is the quiet, persistent truth of who we are—whether we want it or not.
Some of us know from early childhood. Others don’t fully realize it until adulthood. Some live decades trying to suppress or hide it. But across nearly every experience, one thing is clear: this is not something we chose.
And for a lot of us, we tried not to be. We prayed. We stayed silent. We tried to act “more like a boy” or “more like a girl.” We studied how other people walked, talked, dressed, and laughed. We forced ourselves into molds that didn’t fit, just to avoid being judged, fired, disowned, or assaulted.
We did not “choose” this path. Many of us fought it for years. Because let’s be honest—why would someone choose to be part of one of the most misunderstood, targeted, and politically weaponized groups in modern society? We didn’t choose to be trans. We chose to stop hiding.
What Is a Choice?
There are choices we make—lots of them. But they are not about being transgender. They are about surviving it.
When do we come out—if ever? Who do we tell? Do we start medical transition or only change our name? Do we risk using the “wrong” bathroom to stay safe? Do we correct someone who misgenders us, or let it slide to avoid confrontation? Do we put ourselves out there on Trans Day of Visibility… or protect our peace and stay quiet?
These are choices. Some of them feel impossible. And lately, even those choices are under attack.
Laws are being passed that restrict our ability to access healthcare, use public restrooms, participate in sports, or be mentioned in classrooms. These policies are not theoretical—they are real. They affect real people right now. So yes—we make choices. But we don’t get to choose being transgender. That part is not up for debate.
The Quiet Persistence of Identity
For a lot of us, our trans identity refused to be hidden. You can only pretend for so long. You can only fake comfort in your own skin for so many years. Eventually, something breaks through—a whispered truth that never goes away.
It might come in a journal entry. A sleepless night. A mirror you avoid looking into. A nickname that feels like a knife. A flash of joy the first time someone calls you “she” or “he” or “they”—and it feels right.
Being transgender isn’t about loving every part of yourself instantly. It’s not even about understanding everything. It’s about feeling like something is fundamentally off—and realizing that living authentically might be the only way to survive.
But What About People Who Detransition?
Good question. Let’s talk about that. You’ve probably seen some high-profile stories of people who transitioned and later went back—what’s often called “detransitioning.” These stories are real, and those people deserve compassion, just like anyone else.
But here’s what often gets left out of those headlines:
- The vast majority of transgender people do not detransition. Studies show detransition rates are low—most under 5%, depending on the population and context.
- Many who do detransition don’t stop being trans. They stop transitioning because of family pressure, workplace discrimination, lack of access to healthcare, or fear of violence—not because they were “never trans.”
- Some were misdiagnosed, yes. That happens in every area of medicine. But if you hear one detransition story and assume it disproves every trans person’s identity—that’s like hearing about one person who got the wrong cancer diagnosis and deciding all cancer is fake.
We don’t parade around every happy trans person who found peace and stability. But we spotlight every person who leaves. That’s not balanced. That’s selective empathy.
The Internet Is Not the Whole Story
A lot of folks have never spoken to a transgender person in real life. What they know comes from influencers, headlines, or someone “going off” on social media. And to be fair, sometimes the loudest voices online can sound extreme or aggressive.
But please remember: social media is a pressure cooker. Most trans people don’t spend their time online yelling at strangers. We’re working jobs, walking our dogs, raising kids, playing video games, getting groceries, trying to stay safe.
We are people—regular people—who are tired. Tired of being reduced to punchlines. Tired of constantly being explained, debated, and voted on. Tired of strangers acting like our existence is up for public approval.
Most of us just want to live our lives. To be seen for who we are. To go to brunch without it turning into a courtroom.
So… What Do We Want From You?
Not pity. Not applause. Not even agreement. Just… empathy. Even if you don’t fully understand or can’t personally relate. Even if you still have questions. Just start with the belief that trans people are telling the truth about our lives.
That we are not lying.
That we are not confused.
That we are not trying to hurt anyone.
That we did not choose this path lightly.
That we are not a fad, or a punchline, or a boogeyman.
We are your neighbors, your baristas, and your children’s teachers. We exist. And we’re asking for your decency. That’s it.
Visibility Takes Courage—But Also a Toll
March 31st is Transgender Day of Visibility—a time when many of us share our stories publicly. It’s beautiful, powerful, and sometimes healing. But it’s also exhausting.
Because every time we speak up, we risk being targeted. We open ourselves up to questions we never agreed to answer. We let the world in on something we didn’t ask to carry.
Visibility should be a choice. But for some of us, silence feels even heavier. So if you see someone sharing their story this year—listen. Don’t argue. Don’t question their motives. Just hear them. You never know what it took for them to speak at all.
The Bottom Line
If you’ve read this far, thank you. Truly. It means you’re trying. And trying matters.
Maybe this won’t change your entire worldview. Maybe you still have doubts. That’s okay. Growth doesn’t happen in one article. But if this planted a seed—if you walk away thinking about transgender people a little differently—then it was worth writing.
Being transgender is not a choice. But respecting us is. And if you can do that—just a little more than yesterday—then you’ve already made a better choice than most.
