I grew up under the unrelenting weight of shame—shame that I was “different,” that my gender identity did not match the label I was given at birth, and that I couldn’t openly be the girl I knew myself to be. I was suffocated by fear—fear of losing friends, family, and ultimately, my very sense of self. Like too many transgender people, I experienced the pressure of silence: “stay in the closet, hide who you are, because society isn’t ready.” For years, I listened. I did my best to conform, to find acceptance, or at least to avoid confrontation. It was never comfortable, but it felt like the only option.
The last decade, however, brought the trans community more visibility—on television, in politics, and on social media. We began to see a sliver of hope that the conversation about trans identities would become more normalized. Yet at the same time, the backlash grew, and concerted efforts to dehumanize us gained new traction. Politicians, particularly in conservative spheres, teamed up with anti-trans organizations to paint us as predators, perverts, or enemies of “family values.” The first and now second Trump administration took this a step further with policies aimed at rolling back our already limited protections.
Today, I stand in my truth, and I refuse to be dehumanized or thrust back into hiding. Too many of us have fought too hard. That resistance resonates with the historical experiences of other marginalized communities who were dehumanized by authoritarian regimes throughout history. Their stories remind us that this fight—for human rights, for our dignity—is essential, and it must be met with open eyes, unwavering solidarity, and collective moral courage.
The Landscape of Dehumanization
At its core, dehumanization is a rhetoric or action that denies the intrinsic humanity of a group of people. It casts us—transgender individuals, in this case—as “other,” as subhuman or undeserving of basic rights. It is a dangerous tool because it often justifies discrimination, persecution, and violence. Dehumanization breaks empathy. Once empathy is broken, it becomes much easier to treat a community as if they are disposable.
A Familiar Pattern
The pattern of dehumanization is not new; we have witnessed it time and time again. It follows a predictable trajectory:
- Labeling: The target group is given stigmatizing labels.
- Scapegoating: The group is painted as the source of society’s problems.
- Propaganda: Media outlets, particularly those aligned with powerful political figures, amplify the narrative that this community is dangerous or morally corrupt.
- Legal Discrimination: Laws and policies are enacted to deny or restrict rights, often justified by the notion that the targeted group is a threat to public well-being.
- Social Isolation: Acts of intimidation, harassment, or even violence become accepted or overlooked by the broader public.
Transgender individuals, especially transgender women of color, have experienced each of these stages. We have been given labels like “mentally ill,” “confused,” and “predators,” scapegoated for the decline of “traditional values,” and misrepresented in media outlets that align with conservative politics or extremist factions. In too many places, legislation is proposed or passed that denies us essential healthcare, forcibly outs us, or bars us from public spaces that match our gender identity.
The Conservative and Anti-Trans Agenda: A Historical Continuum
Conservative rhetoric often cloaks itself in the language of “protecting families,” “preserving culture,” or “maintaining tradition.” This framing is anything but new. At various points in world history, minority groups have been portrayed as a threat to the “natural order.” During the Jim Crow era in the United States, Black Americans were framed as dangerous and inferior to justify segregation. In Nazi Germany, Jewish communities were labeled as contaminants to the Aryan race, which paved the way for the Holocaust.
The same pattern emerges in anti-trans discourse: we are cast as a threat to cisgender children, as though our very existence endangers them. By linking the transgender community to alleged moral decline, those with conservative or authoritarian leanings set the stage for an “us vs. them” mentality. They position themselves as protectors of an imagined purity and virtue, using fear to rally support for discriminatory policies.
The Role of Organized Anti-Trans Groups
Various organizations have formed to capitalize on these fears and misconceptions. These groups target individuals who are uncertain or who have never personally encountered a transgender person, stoking panic about the supposed “erosion of gender norms.” They produce misleading “research” or cite flawed studies to argue that transition-related healthcare is dangerous, ignoring the broad consensus among medical professionals that gender-affirming care saves lives.
These groups also lobby political figures to pass anti-trans legislation. They prey on the fact that many people do not fully understand what it means to be transgender, nor the medical and psychological necessity of affirming treatments. This lack of public understanding, combined with politically driven scare tactics, becomes a potent weapon, used to justify laws that restrict our rights and freedoms.
The Trump Administration’s Role in the Dehumanization of Transgender Individuals
Despite decades of struggle for trans equality, the Trump administration marked a significant shift in the federal government’s stance on transgender rights in the United States. From the beginning of Donald Trump’s presidency in 2017 through the end of his term in 2021, the administration pursued a series of measures that reversed or undermined protections for transgender people. With his reelection, these same bans that were stopped by the Biden administration have been restarted.
Policy Rollbacks
- Military Ban: One of the most high-profile attempts to dehumanize transgender people was the ban on transgender individuals serving openly in the U.S. military. Despite evidence that transgender service members do not negatively affect military readiness or cohesion—and, indeed, have served honorably for decades—this policy effectively labeled us as unfit for service.
- Title IX Protections: Under the Obama administration, guidelines were issued to public schools, instructing them to allow transgender students to use bathrooms matching their gender identity, among other protections. The Trump administration rescinded these guidelines, placing transgender students back into environments where bullying, harassment, and discrimination often go unchecked.
- Healthcare Discrimination: The Trump administration moved to roll back regulations that protected transgender patients from discrimination in healthcare settings. While these regulations were far from perfect, they provided some layer of protection for trans individuals seeking necessary medical care.
- Defining Gender by Biology: In 2018, a leaked memo from the Department of Health and Human Services indicated a proposal to define sex strictly by “biological attributes,” effectively erasing transgender identities at the federal level. This proposed definition was a blatant move to undermine trans existence, dictating that one’s gender could be fixed and immutable as assigned at birth.
These rollbacks were deeply damaging. Beyond the immediate practical effects—lack of access to safe bathrooms, fear of discrimination in hospitals, uncertainty regarding military careers—the cumulative psychological toll on the transgender community has been enormous. When an administration treats us as second-class citizens or completely denies our existence, it allows private individuals and organizations to spread hate. This extends beyond policy: local businesses, schools, and communities feel emboldened to discriminate against us, often with minimal legal consequence.
The Personal Toll
Like many transgender individuals, I have felt the sting of family rejection and workplace discrimination. When I was younger, I was careful to keep my femininity hidden—both in mannerisms and in appearance. My parents frequently made disparaging comments about “men dressing like women,” about how such behavior was deviant or shameful. Even as a child, I felt the weight of those words. They taught me that my instinct to express my gender openly would jeopardize my safety and my relationship with the people I loved most.
As I grew older, I entered a workforce where any sign of my identity would have been met with ridicule, possible demotion, or outright dismissal. So, I stayed silent. I played the role of the man I was expected to be, privately suffering from depression and anxiety. This sort of existential hiding can feel like a slow death: each day, you’re reminded of the gap between who you are and who you pretend to be.
When the Trump administration began its systematic efforts to strip away transgender protections, I was devastated. The symbolic message was overwhelming: “You do not matter. Your struggles mean nothing to us. You are less deserving of rights.” Hearing that from the highest office in the country felt like a trauma. However, it also ignited a fire within me. Having lived most of my life in the closet, I found myself ready, in my 50s, to stand up and say, “Enough.” The cost of silence had become too high.
Historical Precedence of Dehumanization
- Nazi Germany: One of the most catastrophic examples of dehumanization is found in Nazi Germany, where Jewish people, Romani people, disabled individuals, and countless others were not simply discriminated against but systematically exterminated. The regime’s propaganda machine worked tirelessly to depict these groups as “subhuman.” The initial steps included hateful rhetoric, identification measures (like the Star of David), and the gradual stripping away of rights. Society often either supported these measures or remained silent out of fear. Ultimately, silence enabled the Holocaust to happen on a massive scale.
- Jim Crow and Segregation in the United States: In the United States, the Jim Crow era serves as another stark reminder of how deeply entrenched dehumanization can become. Laws segregating Black Americans from white society were justified by pseudoscientific arguments about racial inferiority. Through a combination of violence, intimidation, and propaganda, these policies persisted for decades. Lynching and physical assaults were rationalized by viewing Black Americans as less than human. Again, this started with hateful rhetoric and labeling, culminating in government-sanctioned discrimination and brutality.
- Japanese-American Internment: During World War II, Japanese Americans on the West Coast were forcibly removed from their homes and placed in internment camps. The entire community was painted as a national security threat, their citizenship rights ignored. The assumption was that Japanese Americans were collectively disloyal, a baseless suspicion fueled by wartime fear and xenophobia. Property was seized, and families were detained for years, all because the government deemed them dangerous due to their ethnic heritage.
In each case, the end result was catastrophic: entire communities were marginalized, persecuted, or murdered—often with the silent complicity of neighbors, colleagues, and even friends who were afraid to speak up. The lesson is clear: dehumanization is a societal disease that doesn’t simply go away on its own. It must be confronted whenever and wherever it appears.
These historical precedents underscore the critical need for us to recognize and resist such tactics today, particularly as they are deployed against the transgender community. Silence is not an option. Passive acceptance, or believing that “it could never happen here,” is a dangerous position, especially when we see these harmful patterns repeating in real time.
Why This Must Not Continue
The transgender community faces disproportionately high rates of depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. A major contributing factor is societal rejection, amplified by overt political attacks. Every time a lawmaker stands before a podium and talks about “protecting children from transgender propaganda,” a trans child hears that their identity is invalid. Every time someone claims, “transgender women in sports are cheating,” a trans athlete sees a path to isolation. These political stances have real-world consequences. They are not abstract policy debates but matters of life and death.
Threat to Democracy and Human Rights
Authoritarian regimes thrive on dehumanization. It is the bedrock upon which they build power. By singling out a minority group and designating them as an enemy, they unify their base through hatred and fear. When we allow any group to be dehumanized, we set a dangerous precedent for broader human rights violations. Today, it might be the trans community. Tomorrow, it could be another vulnerable group. A threat to the dignity of one community is a threat to the dignity and safety of us all.
We have a moral imperative to resist. Whether you are trans, an ally, a family member, or a concerned citizen, standing up against dehumanization is not just about protecting one minority group. It’s about preserving the fundamental principles of respect, equality, and liberty for everyone. Many of our trans brothers and sisters are in precarious situations, lacking the resources to fight back alone. As a community, it is our responsibility to advocate for them, raise funds for their legal battles, share our stories, and educate the public on the reality of trans lives.
Moving Forward: Strategies for Resistance
Educate and Engage
Ignorance is one of the primary fuels of dehumanization. By sharing our stories, inviting people into conversations about our lived experiences, and demystifying what it means to be transgender, we break down the walls of fear. It’s crucial to talk to school boards, local city councils, and community forums. Organizing or participating in educational sessions on transgender issues helps reshape the dialogue. Even if it changes a single person’s perspective, that’s one more ally gained.
Support Legal and Policy Advocacy
Numerous organizations—such as the National Center for Transgender Equality, Transgender Law Center, and the American Civil Liberties Union—are on the frontline of legal battles to protect transgender rights. Supporting these groups, whether financially or through volunteer work, is essential to halting the spread of discriminatory legislation. Policy changes may be slow, but they are vital in securing long-term, systemic protections.
Amplify and Celebrate Trans Voices
We must celebrate transgender contributions to society and culture. From scientists and entrepreneurs to artists and athletes, transgender people have shaped the world in immeasurable ways. By uplifting these stories, we counter the narrative that trans people are deviant or destructive. Showcasing trans excellence also instills pride within our own community and offers positive role models for future generations of trans youth.
Build Intersecting Coalitions
Oppressive systems often have a broad reach. The same forces that aim to strip rights from transgender people may also be working against immigrants, racial minorities, religious minorities, and other marginalized groups. Building coalitions—forming alliances across different communities—multiplies our collective power. We share experiences of dehumanization, and that unites us in our commitment to ending it for all.
Encourage Self-Care and Community Care
For transgender individuals specifically, the mental and emotional toll of constant dehumanization can be staggering. It’s critical to create spaces of healing: support groups, online communities, therapy, and self-help resources. Allies can contribute by offering emotional support, respectful listening, and tangible help like housing or job references, should trans individuals face discrimination.
The Bottom Line
In writing this article, I speak not only for myself but for all those in our community who still feel fear, isolation, and despair. I speak for the teenagers kicked out of their homes for being trans, for the senior citizens in assisted living who cannot safely express their gender identity, and for the countless individuals worldwide who risk their lives by living openly and authentically. We are many, and we are powerful—but we need solidarity from every corner of society.
The attempts by conservative factions, anti-transgender organizations, and the Trump administration to dehumanize the trans community are part of a larger historical pattern. Just as past authoritarian regimes and exclusionary governments sought to marginalize, scapegoat, and ultimately endanger certain groups, our society faces a critical choice: remain silent or rise up.
I, for one, refuse to be silent any longer. My journey out of the closet, after half a century of living a divided self, has taught me that shame is not a burden we should carry. The transgender community is beautiful, diverse, and strong, and we deserve to thrive without fear of persecution. We have survived too long in the shadows. Now, we demand visibility, respect, and the full rights owed to us as human beings.
If you are reading this as a trans person, know you are not alone. If you are an ally, recognize that your voice can make a profound difference. If you are uncertain or fearful about transgender issues, I urge you to open your mind and learn. Because in the end, the struggle for trans liberation is intimately connected to the struggle for universal human dignity. We cannot permit dehumanization to continue, for if we do, the moral fabric of our society unravels—and we lose not just the trans community, but a piece of our collective humanity as well.
