For transgender people, friendship often means more than shared interests or weekend plans. In a world that regularly denies us safety, dignity, and belonging, friendships can become lifelines—emotional anchors we cling to during family rejection, job discrimination, or public hostility. In many cases, our chosen families are the only families we have.
But what happens when the very people we lean on become sources of pain?
Many trans people keep their social circles small—sometimes by choice, but more often by circumstance. And when a friend group starts to feel toxic, we face a terrifying question: Is it worse to stay in a damaging friendship or to be alone?
Too often, we choose the first.
We ignore the red flags. We excuse the backhanded comments, the exclusion, and the gossip because the thought of losing our “people” feels like a threat to our survival. But the truth is this:
There is nothing safe about friendships that hurt you. You don’t owe anyone your silence, especially not in exchange for company. And you are allowed—no, encouraged—to let go of dynamics that do more harm than good.
When “Chosen Family” Becomes a Power Game
Toxic friendships don’t always start toxic. In fact, many of the most painful relationships in queer and trans communities are forged in deep vulnerability. Someone might have been there for you early in your transition. Maybe you bonded through shared trauma or mutual isolation. That kind of intimacy can feel irreplaceable. But people change—and not always for the better.
Maybe a friend has started making jokes about your body or identity that don’t feel like jokes. Maybe they’re dismissive when you express dysphoria or boundaries. Maybe there’s a clique forming inside your friend group, and you’ve quietly been pushed to the edge.
Sometimes, the cruelty is overt—spreading rumors, mocking you behind your back, violating your privacy. Other times, it’s subtle. They stop inviting you. They get cold when you talk about your successes. They comfort your abuser instead of checking in with you.
When our world feels small, we tell ourselves to endure it. “They’re all I have.” We internalize the pain. We stay. But staying in toxic dynamics—especially those masked as friendship—erodes your self-worth over time. And it teaches you to expect betrayal, to tolerate disrespect, and to settle for survival instead of connection.
When Mutual Friends Stay “Out of It”
One of the most disorienting parts of cutting off a toxic friend is dealing with mutual friends who choose neutrality. They don’t want drama. They say things like, “I’m friends with both of you,” or, “I don’t want to take sides.” And while that may feel fair on paper, in practice, neutrality often favors the person causing harm.
If someone has hurt you—especially in ways that are repeated or intentional—your friends should care enough to acknowledge that. When they don’t, it sends a clear message: your pain isn’t disruptive enough to matter. That silence can be as painful as the original betrayal.
It’s important to remember that people get to make their own choices. But so do you. If someone refuses to engage with your experience, minimizes your feelings, or continues cozying up to someone who actively harmed you, you’re allowed to question whether that person truly respects you.
Support doesn’t always look like cutting people off—but it does look like listening, validating, and checking in. If someone can’t do that, it’s okay to step back.
What If… I’m the One Who Hurt Someone?
This is a question that takes real courage to ask. Maybe someone distanced themselves from you, and you’re left wondering what role you played. Maybe you were part of a clique that excluded others. Maybe you participated in gossip or crossed a boundary you didn’t realize was there.
Accountability is not a dirty word. It’s not the opposite of community—it’s the foundation of it. Being transgender doesn’t make us incapable of causing harm. And being hurt by the world doesn’t excuse hurting others in return. What does matter is how we respond when we recognize those patterns in ourselves.
Start by asking:
- Did I listen when someone brought up an issue, or did I get defensive?
- Did I apologize sincerely—or just try to smooth it over?
- Have I made changes, or just excuses?
If someone has cut ties with you, don’t chase them for closure. Reflect on the feedback, apologize if it’s welcomed, and then let your actions speak over time. Growth is quiet. It doesn’t demand forgiveness—but it earns it, slowly and steadily.
We’ve all been both hurt and hurtful. What matters is choosing to do better, not for clout or repair, but because the person you’re becoming deserves a cleaner path forward.
Rebuilding Self-Worth After Exclusion
When friend drama spirals into social fallout, the emotional toll can be brutal. You might feel like you’ve lost your entire support system in one blow. You might start to believe the rumors. You might begin to wonder if you are the problem.
Let’s be clear: no matter what anyone says or implies, you are not too much, too dramatic, too broken, or too “extra” to be loved.
Toxic friend groups thrive on gaslighting. They make you feel like your pain is proof you can’t be trusted. But that’s not true. The fact that you feel hurt doesn’t make you weak—it means you cared. The fact that you walked away means you respected yourself enough to choose peace.
Rebuilding your self-esteem after being excluded takes time. Start with small affirmations:
- You are allowed to have needs.
- You are allowed to ask for respect.
- You are allowed to change and grow, even if others don’t.
Lean into what brings you joy. Write, create, and connect with people outside your old circle. Let yourself take up space again—not performatively, but authentically. You don’t have to rush to find new friends. Start by befriending yourself again.
On Outgrowing People—and What Comes Next
There’s grief in realizing you’ve outgrown someone. You might look back at old photos or messages and wonder how it all changed. You might miss the version of them who made you feel seen, even if the current version makes you feel small.
But as you become more yourself—more confident, more vocal, more grounded—some people won’t come with you. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. It means you’re evolving.
Some people liked you better when you were quieter. Easier to control. Less whole. When you start setting boundaries or standing up for yourself, they’ll say you’ve changed. And they’re right. You have. And you should.
Friendship shouldn’t require you to shrink.
And yes—walking away from toxic people will shrink your circle for a while. But it also creates room for new connections to grow. And those connections, even if they take time, will feel safer, kinder, and more aligned with who you are now.
The Bottom Line
There will be seasons in your life when you feel completely alone. After drama. After a falling out. After walking away from the only community you thought you had. In those moments, it’s easy to mistake solitude for failure.
But isolation after setting a boundary isn’t failure. It’s the echo of peace arriving. Take this time to reflect on what you want in future friendships. Not just the absence of harm—but the presence of joy. Of honesty. Of mutual care.
Explore new communities. Reach out to one new person. Join a trans support group. Message someone you admire. Connection often starts in quiet, small acts of reaching. And when it gets hard, remind yourself: you’re not starting from nothing. You’re starting from truth.
To transgender readers: You are not hard to love. You are not destined to tolerate pain just to avoid being alone. Your presence is a gift. Your peace matters. And you deserve friendships that see you, hold you, and uplift you.
To families and allies: If someone you care about is navigating drama or exclusion in their friend group, don’t dismiss it as petty. For many trans people, these are not just friendships—they’re lifelines. Support them by listening without judgment. Believe them when they say something feels off. And remind them they don’t have to accept less than they deserve just to avoid being alone.
Friendship is sacred. Let’s treat it that way.
Because at the end of the day, peace isn’t the absence of people—it’s the presence of self-respect.
