Need my silence? Roar.
By: Serena Sonoma
“To be truly visionary, we have to root our imagination in our concrete reality while simultaneously imagining possibilities beyond that reality." – Angela Davis
Like whips across our ancestors' backs, racism, transphobia, and misogyny scar Black trans women with cycles of violence, seeking to erase us from the dominant narrative. Those scars ache on our skin, a living testament to the past, while those same forces slither insidiously through our modern lives. Can you honestly say you are untouched by their poison? This fight isn't theirs, it's ours. This erasure isn't some distant tragedy; it's the world those in power seek to build while you passively watch.
We navigate life under the suffocating weight of interwoven oppressions. But here's the thing even those in power seek to ignore: within this struggle, we forge strength beyond their imaginings. From defying deadly street-corner dangers to demanding space in legislative halls, we refuse to be reduced to their narrow, fear-soaked vision.
They try to box us in – race over here, gender over there, like our lives can be neatly divided. But anyone living at the intersections knows better. My Blackness shapes my womanhood, my trans identity molds how I experience the world. This isn't just theory, it's blood and bruises, sweat and tears.
Some call that 'double consciousness', that split feeling of seeing yourself as society sees you. For Black trans women, it isn’t double – it's triple. We fight to be seen as Black when the world denies our womanhood, as women when racism erases us, and as fully human in a society bent on denying our trans existence. Each fight alone is exhausting; together, it's a battle waged every single day.
No wonder we need strength – the strength to not just survive, but to thrive. And make no mistake, we do thrive. Because when you fight just to be yourself, that 'just' changes you. It births a kind of courage you won't find in those whose 'selves' are never questioned.
Theories try to catch up to our reality. Triple Consciousness Theory, coined by Tuesdae Pelt-Willis– names what we carry close to our hearts. It's a reminder that they can't understand us while their minds are trapped in those tidy boxes. To know us, they must smash those boxes open. To stand with us, they must first see how this world aims to crush us.
Reducing us to one identity – trans, Black, woman – does a disservice. To understand is to grapple with the layered oppression we defy every living day. We demand nuanced stories, voices elevated, not pity.
Think of Raquel Willis and her fearless cry for Black Trans Lives Matter, Eva Reign, refusing transphobic scripts, Aria Sai'd, carving out a place, even as spaces are violently denied. Resilience in motion – not just stories, but blueprints for change.
This isn't about merely cataloging our pain. It's about honoring those whose battles paved the way for my very breath. For my sisters who endured horrors not for sympathy, but so we could stand – broken, bruised, but unbowed – demanding a world worthy of our brilliance.
In this historic battle for existence, don't delude yourself with notions of neutrality. Silence brands you complicit; inaction carves your tombstone with our blood. Will you act as a force for justice, or will your apathy pave the road to our annihilation? Picture yourself in our shoes, your very being twisted into a threat. Would this not ignite an unquenchable fire for change within you? Tell me, how will future generations judge you? As a warrior who forged a world beyond this cruelty, or as one who fed the hateful machine with their indifference? Empty platitudes of freedom and equality will not shield you from their scorn. If not you, then who? If not now, then when? Your legacy hangs by a thread, stained by our struggle. How will you choose to wield your power?
Can "Feminism" Ignore Its Black Trans Roots and Still Claim Victory?
The fight for justice by Black trans women burns atop a foundation forged by giants – Sojourner Truth, Audre Lorde, bell hooks, and countless more. But those names? Too often drowned by the hollow roars of those terrified by our truths. Black feminist thought must embrace its defiant roots, refusing to be silenced through the erasure of trans voices.
Being a Black trans woman is to wear skin society paints as a bullseye.. Every day, they hammer away at our existence – seeking to define us as threats, as punchlines, as less. Lorde warned against their games, exposing how they attempt to divide our struggles. Kimberlé Crenshaw unmasked the intricate machinery of this oppression. But our defiance incinerates their neat little categories. Our very being scorches their fragile power, and that is precisely why we become their targets.
Take 35-year-old Lisa Love, a Black trans woman from Chicago. "Loving, caring, free-spirited" – words her family clings to amidst unthinkable loss. Love was shot and killed walking home with friends. Why? Not because of crime or malice in her heart, but because her very existence challenged the rigid rules of gender and race others impose. To them, it was as though her life demanded justification, and "no" echoed back with lethal finality.
For Black trans women in America, every day whispers, "Do I have permission to live?" Black life has been devalued for centuries. Womanhood? Society insists there's one correct mold. Break these rules, shatter expectations, and the consequences are far harsher than a slap on the wrist. Your existence becomes a threat to those invested in a false, fragile order.
Our sisters represent a living contradiction to narrow definitions propping up power. Violence here isn't random; it's the desperate language of those fearing the ground shifting beneath their feet.
Enough with shades of red as mere lipstick. Let's reclaim it as paint on a banner: defiance in the face of those who deny us dignity. For Lisa and the countless others stolen too soon, we must refuse the guilt society tries to project upon us. Our womanhood – fierce, diverse, beautiful – shatters these cages of expectation
.
Our very presence says, "We are here." You can choose to acknowledge it, or get out of our way.
No one has the right to dictate the terms of our living, nor deny us a legacy in death. Black, trans, woman – not a crime, but a promise unchained and unapologetic.
When will this so-called 'feminism' rage for all of us? Ignoring us means ignoring the whole damn point! Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, CeCe McDonald, Laverne Cox – these aren't mere names to decorate speeches. Their struggle is Black liberation, in a form even truer than some are comfortable with.
Du Bois spoke of 'double consciousness’, yes, but each breath I take rings with triple defiance. They fight our Blackness, deny our womanhood, and pretend our very selves are wrong. Yet we defy them. Each of us is a testament to triple consciousness; it explains not just hardship, but our resilience. They haven't broken us, and that terrifies them.
It's not just about getting a seat at the table. We bring wisdom honed in their crucible – how to survive when everything's stacked against you, how to build community under their noses. Roxane Gay reminds us - difference is what makes feminism powerful. This isn’t charity, it's us demanding what's always been ours by right.
CeCe McDonald is the face of what they do to us, every damn day. So spare me polite words about 'inclusion'. Her survival, her defiance – that's the feminism the textbooks forgot. If it doesn't bleed fire for those locked up, beaten down, ignored by the system, it isn’t worthy of the name.
How Are Systems of Oppression Designed to Crush, Yet We Still Thrive?
Whose Freedom Depends on Denying Ours?
Like my sisters throughout history, I exist trapped in a suffocating knot of oppression – white supremacy's chokehold, the crushing weight of patriarchy, and the vicious policing of gender that screams I have no right to my own body. If they succeed, my full potential will be nothing but ashes. I have watched our community hemorrhage against the jagged edges of institutional brutality. Doors to the ballot box slam shut. Promised jobs vanish like desert mirages. Healthcare transforms into a weaponized gauntlet of ignorance and denial. And it cuts to my core to admit this: The very laws crafted to combat discrimination – they have become blind to the depths of our struggle.
There are names carved into our shared story, warriors I whisper with gratitude, and with rage at the battles they were forced to fight. Marsha P. Johnson, throwing bricks at Stonewall because society threw them at her for the crime of being herself. Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, fighting for incarcerated trans women. Stormé DeLarverie, bold and unyielding, standing up for all of us who were told to sit down and be quiet. There have been legal victories, yes, in which the Supreme Court ruled to extend workplace protections to transgender individuals.
This was a crucial moment, even if Aimee Stephens herself wasn't Black. It reminds us that beneath different manifestations of prejudice, Black trans women and our trans siblings of all races have common foes. This victory, however, also underscores how much further we have to go. Existing laws don't account for the compounded harms Black trans women face. That's why our vision of justice demands so much more.
Genuine justice won't look like some handout, some bone tossed under the table. We need systems uprooted and rebuilt, built from the ground up. This means laws that leave no room for discrimination in any space where we walk—housing, jobs, healthcare. It means real money in the hands of organizations like The Marsha P. Johnson Institute and Black & Pink National, organizations led by us and ready to provide services to our people. Our schools, our hospitals – they need education, empathy, and respect hammered into them by programs like UCSF Transgender Care and GLSEN's work.
The law must catch up – nuanced rulings that see how transphobia wraps itself around racism and misogyny like a choking vine. Only then, when those vines are yanked free, can those of us born Black and trans and women know a chance at equality and true safety.
What System Needs Our Failure When Our Brilliance Threatens Theirs?
Black trans women don't just survive, we wage war against a system built for our failure. They stack every card against us – racism, transphobia, and a rigged economy meant to keep us trapped and voiceless. Yet, defiance crackles in our veins. We build out of necessity, forge families where society offers none, and turn whispers of resistance into a roar. Survival is the bare minimum. Dismantling this violence on our livelihoods is what's owed.
Do They Sleep Soundly Knowing Our Poverty Funds Their Comfort?
Statistics can't mask the pain. Black trans people face joblessness double other trans folks, quadruple the general population. Not 'bad luck,' but discrimination starving us. The National LGBTQ Task Force documented a strategy of cruelty.
If They View Systems, Not People, Why Does Our Bloodstain Each Policy Decision?
Racism and transphobia, twin blades we've learned to dance between, still drawing blood. No single law or boss is solely to blame. This is about systems upholding white, cisgender power at the expense of our lives. Every barrier to education, every loophole that allows a landlord or manager to discriminate – those are weapons in this economic war. And when someone's Black, trans, and disabled, undocumented, or another mark against them...they pile on even worse.
How Do You Stop a Revolution Rooted in Shared Survival?
Think we'll bow down? We build our own damn empires out of the scraps they toss. TransTech isn't just tech skills, it's upending an industry for ourselves, when they lock us out. Ashlee Marie Preston, Angelica Ross, Michaela Mendelsohn – every space taken, every trans person lifted up fuels our fight. The system fears Black trans leadership because it isn’t confined to one boardroom.
House of GG, The Okra Project – grassroots saving lives policymakers ignore. Those offering food, a bed, meds, it's defiance made real. And those aren’t just handouts – legal battlegrounds get the fancy headlines, but grassroots work secures those victories.
Community's our armor when loneliness would be a killing blow. They underestimate how powerful sharing your truth with people who get it truly is. Mentoring, skills, leadership – what privileged folks get handed, we create amongst ourselves. This is where we sharpen our strategies to tear their chokehold loose.
Will Their Erasure Succeed, or Will Our Excellence Outshine Their Hate?
It was 2016, a suffocating time when fear clung to every step. Trump's slithering rise felt like a blow to the body, yet Laverne Cox's TIME cover blazed a defiant trail. That image ignited a fire within me, a fire born of anger but fueled by an unwavering belief in our potential. I was drawn to journalism, my pen, my weapon, intent on shattering the silence that suffocated trans lives, particularly those of my Black trans sisters.
With unwavering determination, alongside those who shared this yearning for a just world, we crafted narratives of fierce resistance. Together, we pushed back against erasure, forcing visibility onto systems that thrive on rendering us unseen. My achievements, a testament to our collective strength, bore witness to a simple truth: the harder they try to push us down, the more vibrantly we shine.
Still, a chilling reality remains: laws crafted on prejudice seek to legislate our very existence. Hateful rhetoric fuels violence, echoing the darkest chapters of our shared history. Yet, my name, Serena Sonoma, stands resolute. And when we speak our names, we defy those who want nothing more than for us to disappear. We utter them in memory of those who fought before us, and for those still caught in the crosshairs of oppression.
This honor isn't merely mine; it's a torch illuminating the path carved by all the defiant trans voices who refuse to be silenced. With every breath, we embody the fierce, radical essence of survival – and that, in itself, is a rebellion.
Names matter. When we erase historymakers like trailblazing journalist Monica Roberts, Emmy-Award- winning actress Mj Rodriguez, and visionary documentarian Tourmaline – Black trans women whose words, performances, and visions changed the world – we choose amnesia over truth. This isn't an accident. It's a weapon, wielded to deny the humanity of those who exist at the intersection.
The powerful use this weapon because they recognize that denying someone's name is to deny their place in the world. But to the marginalized and underrepresented, names are survival. Every Black trans woman who lives out loud, who demands to be seen, challenges this insidious system of erasure. Every time a trailblazing journalist breaks a story, every time an award-winning actress delivers a breathtaking performance, the narratives these women embody refuse to be silenced.
This fight for self-definition is more than defiance, it's a fight for the soul. In a world that says my sister's experiences don't matter, that their lives are disposable, Black trans women persist. They survive. They thrive. In doing so, they expose the fragility of these oppressive systems that were never meant to withstand such radiant audacity.
And here's the uncomfortable question: Are we complicit in maintaining this erasure, standing passively as they write themselves into history? Or will we take the side of these brilliant, undeniable individuals? Will we become allies in a future where Black trans women not only exist, but illuminate the path forward for us all?
Does a System Built on "Us vs. Them" Collapse When 'Us' Finally Unites?
They think by crushing Black trans women, they just harm a 'minority.' No. The economic chains holding us back are used on others too. When society sees our fight as essential, everyone wins a world where work can mean dignity, not endless exploitation. Support isn’t charity, it's enlightened self-interest. Join us and make that reality happen.
Did They Design This Misery, or Does Our Audacity to Thrive Unnerve Them More?
As a child, I was bombarded with images that mocked and exploited trans lives. Watching segments of Maury’s “Are You a Man or a Woman?”, my family's laughter echoed the cruelty of society's judgment. These warped representations seeped into my young mind, poisoning my understanding of trans identities. This isn't happenstance – it's a conscious shaping of minds through media, a tool used to maintain existing power structures.
Today, media remains a site of struggle. Trans women are too often fetishized and hypersexualized to satisfy a cisgender, male gaze. This distorted lens obscures the realities of those driven to survival sex work due to systemic marginalization. It also allows cisgender men, even those marginalized along other lines, to uphold harmful systems while seeking their own advantage. But the power rests not only with the image-makers; we're changing the narrative from within.
The phrase 'designed misery' strikes a chord, doesn't it? Black trans women know that the hurdles we face aren't accidental. They're the calculated outcomes of deep-rooted prejudice embedded within institutions and attitudes. Yet, our very acts of resistance disrupt this insidious plan. Through fearless activism, we counter damaging tropes and demand self-authored representation. We dismantle and reconstruct the world on our own terms.
History is dotted with our triumphs. Emira D'Spain blazing a trail in fashion, Kayla Gore championing those most vulnerable through My Sistah's House, Andrea Jenkins making history in politics – these victories stem from decades of intersectional struggle. Yet, they're more than just survival; they're joyful affirmation. In a world designed to see us as tragic figures, our unapologetic joy is an act of defiance that unnerves the systems built against us.
As a child, I might have internalized society's hatred. But like a phoenix, a warrior emerged from the ashes. In owning my Black trans womanhood, I've broken free from the bonds of victimhood. Now, my pain fuels me, pushing me to transform struggle into power. Our triumphs, our love for ourselves and each other, our defiant laughter – this is the soundtrack of our revolution. They may orchestrate our misery, but they fear our audacity, our joy. In rewriting our own stories, we are assured the last laugh will be ours.
They Built This Nightmare – Where's the Study on Their Psychological Dysfunction?
The numbers from the National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs (NCAVP) don't just tell a story – they scream a condemnation. Trans individuals, especially Black trans women, endure hate violence at a rate more than double that of their white counterparts. And as the NCAVP report makes painfully clear, these crimes are woefully underreported. This isn't just about being trans; this is an unholy cocktail of racism, transphobia, and sexism designed to break bodies and crush spirits.
The beatings, the weapons, the sexual assaults – those are the overt horrors. But let's not forget the everyday violence woven into the fabric of our society. From housing discrimination to the callous denial of healthcare, Black trans lives are treated as disposable. Every instance reinforces the lie that we are less than human. It's no wonder studies by groups like The Trevor Project reveal how this relentless dehumanization crushes our mental wellbeing, fueling depression, anxiety, and PTSD. We turn to whatever we can to survive, but that 'survival' can never be true living in a world that denies our fundamental right to exist.
This is a failure. A failure of empathy, of justice, and of the most basic human decency.
Was I Meant to Be Crushed By Shame, or Do They Profit From My Self-Loathing Too?
My own journey is a testament to the relentless assault multiple oppressions bring. Born differently in a world lacking awareness of gender complexities, people targeted my gender expression from the tender age of eight. Racist stereotypes and Gender-based bullying added layers of trauma, a painful embodiment of "intersectionality"— how race, gender, and other identities entwine, creating unique, multiplied disadvantages.
While transitioning proved a crucial step in aligning with my true self, it further intensified the relentless attacks. Every act of gender conformity brought increased judgment against unattainable, Eurocentric expectations. Navigating this world as a Black trans woman means carrying the crushing weight of society's "controlling images" coined by sociologist Patricia Hill Collins – oppressive ideas meant to keep us small and ashamed. It is a daily act of defiant resilience, merely to exist.
They Demand Atomized Victims; Did They Forget Black Women Invented Mutual Aid?
Amidst this ongoing assault, Black trans women create networks of unwavering support founded on deep mutual understanding, a testament to their strength. In these physical and virtual spaces, we validate one another, share vital resources, and offer healing support. Organizations like the Trans Women of Color Collective (TWOCC), The National Black Trans Advocacy Coalition, and Transinclusive Group are shining examples, amplifying voices and demanding change. It is through these vibrant networks that isolation yields to kinship and strength is borne out of connection.
When Healing Is An Act of War, Who Declares Themselves Our Enemy?
In addition to this community scaffolding, Black trans women prioritize radical self-care. Against a world that relentlessly tries to deny our well-being, these acts are necessary and powerful rebellions. Here are transformative pathways towards healing:
Joy and Celebration: Finding moments of light amidst darkness combats relentless negativity, restoring dignity and worth.
Culturally Competent Care: Connecting with therapists and healthcare providers deeply versed in the Black trans experience offers a haven for true understanding.
Embodiment Practices: Movement, dance, and bodily connection bring sanctuary from mental overload, building a more compassionate relationship with oneself.
Advocacy and Activism: Transforming our challenges into fuel for justice is both healing and empowering.
When They Call Our Survival "Superhuman," Do They Admit Designing an Unlivable Hell?
The mental health resilience of Black trans women is not the sole responsibility of the individual. True transformation calls for communal acts of care-building and transformative change in society. Until that day arrives, it's through these defiant acts that we resist, survive, and snatch small but triumphant bursts of joy.
If Mutual Aid Isn't in Their Vocabulary, How Do They Justify Our Strength Without Exploiting It?
CeCe McDonald's story speaks to the necessity of our communities. In a world dismissing or harming us, these spaces are lifelines. It's about practical support, but more so, belonging. We see our problems aren't our fault, but part of a stacked system. In found families, we become architects of our future.
Does Our Unity Disturb Their Carefully Constructed Divisions, or Merely Expose Them as Always False?
Nobody knows better than us, Black trans women, how oppression works. Racism, sexism, transphobia – it's all wrapped up in one stifling package. Yet, from that understanding comes a power those against us don't see coming. We refuse to fight solely for ourselves. When Black trans women stand together, we're standing with everyone at the other end of society's cruelty. It's why you'll find us on the front lines of marches, speaking out against all forms of prejudice. Because true liberation means liberation for all.
If CeCe's Resilience Became Universal, Does Their Worldview Survive Such Collective "Defiance"?
CeCe's fight symbolizes injustice we face. When others rallied around her, she found strength from collective pain. She reminds us to turn rage into action, shifting focus from victims to dismantling harmful systems.
Is Our Joy the Most Subversive Act When Their World Demands Silent Despair?
This is the narrative of Black trans women – one of community, resistance, and fierce love in the face of cruelty. We may be born into hardship, but it's not where our story ends. We rewrite it every day, building a sisterhood brick by brick. CeCe McDonald is one shining example, and countless others echo her determination. This is what they don't want you to see: We are not victims. We are architects of a better future, not just for ourselves, but for every person pushed to the margins.
Did a System That Profits Off "Othering" Forget That Erasure Breeds Resistance?
The way media portrays marginalized groups casts a long shadow. For Black trans women, harmful stereotypes have painted us as tragic figures, sexual deviants, or punchlines cosplayed by male actors (who then go on to win Oscars for their performance). These distortions erase our humanity and fuel violence in the streets. But I will not be complicit in the dehumanization of my sisters. Black trans women are fighting back, shattering these poisonous tropes by seizing control of our own stories.
Did They Mistake Our Silence for Consent? How Will They Handle an Explosion of Self-Authored Narratives?
Across all forms of media – television, film, books, and our vibrant social networks – Black trans women are carving out a new reality. This isn't simply about visibility; it's about authorship. We share our joy, our resilience, and the boundless complexities of our lives. In doing so, we reclaim our power over a narrative that has too long tried to silence and demonize us.
Is Positive Representation an Apology They Never Intended to Make, or a Weapon We Stole From Them?
When you see Black trans women as artists, leaders, lovers, and simply living our best lives, those damaging stereotypes crumble. You can't dismiss someone as a caricature when their full humanity is undeniable. Visibility isn't just about being seen; it's about challenging a system that prefers to ignore us. These acts of self-representation aren't simply personal, they're political.
Do Our Role Models Undermine Their Systems That Thrive on "Exceptionalism"?
Seeing strong, positive Black trans role models doesn't just heal; it ignites a fire in the next generation. It tells young trans people, "You are not alone. Your dreams are valid." Visibility gives rise to community, and community provides the support and understanding needed to thrive. As understanding grows, we can tear down the laws and institutions built on prejudice. When you see us, you have to see our struggles, too.
Are They More Threatened by Our Policy Demands or an Army of Artists Exposing Their Lies?
Organizations: Groups like Marsha P. Johnson Institute, Black Trans Nation, alongside local leaders like The Knights & Orchids Society, House of Tulip, and SNaP Co., tirelessly fight for justice, protection, and opportunity. They offer leadership development, address urgent needs like housing, and challenge laws that put Black trans people at risk.
Entertainment: Janet Mock's insightful criticism and her bold work as a writer, director, and producer demand authentic, nuanced storytelling. Mj Rodriguez's Golden Globe win highlights the exceptional talent within our community, breaking down barriers of perception.
Arts & Creative Expression: Black trans artists are sharing their truths in powerful plays, films, books, and visual art. These works defy stereotypes, showcasing the diversity of our stories and fostering deeper understanding. Such as Raquel Willis, her memoir The Risk It Takes to Bloom, tracing her life of transformation and her work towards collective liberation
Everyday Bravery: Living without shame, finding paths to expression – as activists, entrepreneurship and media personalities like Angelica Ross. Each Black trans woman who refuses to shrink herself shines a light on our strength and the endless possibilities before us.
Does True Inclusion Bankrupt Their Institutions...And Is That Why They Avoid It?
The fight doesn't end with a few positive images. Systemic oppression won't disappear just because you see a heartwarming movie. While visibility sparks necessary change, we demand transformative action to fully dismantle the structures built against us. True liberation lies in justice for Black trans women.
When Every Excuse Crumbles, Was Your "Ignorance" Feigned...Or Does That Only Worsen Your Legacy?
The fight for the liberation of Black trans women won't be won with passive wishes. It takes sustained effort, dismantling oppressive systems from top to bottom. This multi-pronged approach must start with individuals and ripple out to every single societal institution.
For Individuals and Allies
Self-Education and Challenging Biases: Start by interrogating your own assumptions about gender and race. How have you absorbed society's narratives? Whose voices have informed your worldview? Seek out resources created by Black trans women to center our experiences, not theories spun by those who profit from oppression. This work is difficult, even uncomfortable, but crucial for authentic connection and advocacy.
Active Support and Allyship: Respecting names and pronouns is simple, yet profound. Misgendering, even when unintentional, reinforces harmful gender constructs. If you stumble, quickly apologize and course-correct. Prioritize listening to Black trans voices! Amplify our experiences, challenges, and solutions. Challenge transphobia actively but kindly – education over confrontation can open hearts and minds.
Supporting Organizations and Causes: Grassroots organizations led by Black trans women have a deep understanding of community needs. Put your money and time where your mouth is – donate if you can, volunteer if you have relevant skills, and follow their social media accounts to share their crucial work. Use your power as a citizen to demand that lawmakers implement policies that protect and uplift Black trans people.
For Institutions
Mandate Inclusive Policies: Policies must safeguard Black trans women. Conduct reviews and anti-bias training. Include lived expertise by having Black trans people shape policies.
Review Systems and Processes: Ensure every aspect reflects inclusivity. Do forms, bathrooms, and data collection reinforce a rigid gender binary? Work with Black trans-led organizations to revise harmful practices.
Collaboration and Accountability: Building an inclusive culture means actively partnering with Black trans advocates. Their needs must be a central concern, not an afterthought. Use your platform to fight for justice beyond your institutional walls. Become a vocal supporter of their rights and causes.
For Healthcare Providers
Data on mistreatment is a call to arms: The medical establishment has neglected and harmed the Black trans community. Cultural competency and gender-affirming care must be the baseline, not a revolutionary idea.
Non-Negotiable Inclusive Training and Bias Elimination: Mandatory training is not enough; providers must dismantle internalized biases. Embed intersectional competency in curricula and licensing criteria, with mandatory continuing education to remain up-to-date with advances in care.
Overhaul Intake and Data Management: Center the patient's lived reality; names and pronouns must be respected by ALL staff. Trans-informed consent models put decision-making power back where it belongs.
No Tolerance for Mistreatment: Healthcare cannot be a battleground. Ensure zero tolerance of microaggressions and harassment, backed by swift consequence mechanisms and public commitment to accountability.
Gender-Affirming Care is a Right: Access to necessary care cannot be hindered by economic or bureaucratic hurdles. Partner with local advocates to expand accessibility. Combat harmful narratives around gender-affirming care with patient and provider education.
Important Note: As Audre Lorde so powerfully reminds us, "Your silence will not protect you." Genuine allyship demands constant assessment, a willingness to be wrong, and the tenacity to do better. Only through a sustained, multifaceted effort can we build a world where Black trans women are fully empowered, respected, and protected. This is not an aspirational ideal – it's a non-negotiable imperative.
As 'Order' Crumbles, Do You Cling Tighter to Power Even if It Costs You Everything, or Witness the World We Build From the Ashes?
Speeches once bought your silence; our roars herald freedom we take, whether you offer it or not.
Black trans women walk a razor's edge, targeted by intersectional discrimination – forces that shape our very survival. But ask yourself this: who gains from our struggle? Whose privilege is built on policies that dismiss our worth? I refuse to sugarcoat the truth like I've seen so many others do. This oppression didn't fall from the sky. It was designed. And just like it was designed, it can be dismantled.
We've heard pretty speeches before, haven't we? But speeches don't feed us, clothe us, or keep us safe. It's time to hold those in power accountable. This isn't a time for whispers; it's a time for a defiant roar demanding tangible change.
ABOLITION IS SURVIVAL: The Cost of a World That Needs My Erasure to Exist
What is Abolition? A Blueprint for Liberation
Abolition demands we shatter the systems that uphold oppression and rebuild a world grounded in care, accountability, and collective flourishing. We must challenge the notion that punitive systems like prisons, borders, and surveillance-laced welfare policies offer genuine solutions. They don't; they feed cycles of violence and maintain injustice. This is not about reform. It's about transformation.
We envision a world where our most marginalized communities are not merely surviving, but thriving.
Black Trans Lives: Freedom from Violence, Freedom to Flourish
The resilience of Black trans women in the face of transphobia and relentless anti-Black violence is undeniable. Yet, the very systems meant to protect them exacerbate their struggle, denying them healthcare, housing, and basic dignity. Abolition insists that Black trans women deserve far more than survival – they deserve the resources and space to thrive. True liberation for all hinges on their liberation.
Abolition in Action: From Punishment to Transformation
Dismantle and Replace: Prisons, borders, and systems built to punish have failed us. Abolition requires tearing them down and replacing them with solutions that address harm without replicating it.
Direct Community Investments: Abolition means ensuring everyone has safe housing, nutritious food, healthcare (physical and mental), and robust support systems. Our communities should be architects of these resources, not passive recipients.
Honor Lived Experience: Those facing the harshest forms of oppression are experts in crafting solutions. Abolition means uplifting the leadership of Black trans women, who carry the essential wisdom on what safety and freedom truly mean.
Transformative Justice: Healing Beyond Punishment
Abolition calls for replacing outdated models of punishment with frameworks that heal both survivors and those who cause harm. Transformative justice empowers communities to address conflict within systems of compassion and true accountability.
It's Not Too Radical, It's Common Sense
The thought of a world without prisons or police can bring anxiety. But these violent institutions themselves perpetuate harm. Investing in communities–tackling poverty, expanding mental health care, and resolving economic disparity–that's what creates real safety.
It's Not:
More Failed Reforms: Band-aid solutions on systems rooted in oppression are doomed to fail.
Only About Prisons: It's about uprooting oppression wherever it operates, from borders to social programs.
Naive Idealism: We see abolition in action every day in grassroots communities. The work is to elevate these models and remove the systemic barriers in their way.
Join Us - It's a Lifelong Fight
Abolition isn't passive, it's a movement demanding constant action. Combat racism, transphobia, and all oppressive forces wherever they arise. Seek leadership from Black trans organizers, support community-led initiatives, and treat this transformation as the work of a lifetime.
WHAT WE DEMAND:
Safety as a Birthright: We must tear down the prison-industrial complex that breeds violence, not prevents it. Invest in communities and address the root causes that lead to harm. Trauma-informed mental health care, transformative justice modeled by and for Black trans women, and systems of care should replace cages and punishment. Real safety demands we listen to what makes Black trans women feel protected and provide it unconditionally.
Survival is Unconditional: Welfare systems reek of punishment and perpetuate cycles of poverty rooted in racism and transphobia. We need to abolish this surveillance state. Housing, food, and healthcare are human rights, and anyone demanding barriers has bought into a cruel myth. Black trans communities hold the knowledge to survive--support radical mutual aid structures that build care from the ground up, on their terms.
Autonomy & Self-Determination: The violence Black trans women face starts with denying them control over their lives. This manifests as medical gatekeeping, workplace discrimination, policing access to bathrooms, and laws criminalizing the fight to stay alive. We need workplace protections centered on the folks pushed farthest to the margins and celebrate trans-led labor organizing!
The Right to Thrive, Not Merely Survive: Black trans women deserve vibrant lives overflowing with joy and expression. Dismantle systems that pathologize Blackness, choke Black artistry, and erase our histories. Invest in Black trans community spaces, libraries, and archives overflowing with our stories and dreams. Reparations--from institutions and individuals--need to be an active practice, not empty words.
HOW WE GET THERE:
Reject Institutional Capture: Even well-meaning organizations meant to create change can slip into harmful mindsets. Actively support grassroots movements where Black trans women aren't tokens but visionaries in charge of crafting solutions. Donate, volunteer, amplify, but most importantly, follow their lead.
The Personal is Political: Look deep and honestly at how you might be complicit in oppression in your own workplace, school, friendships, and family. Do those spaces actively fight anti-Black racism and transphobia? Or do they rely on punishment and policing? Transformation starts from within, dismantling power in the everyday moments of our lives.
Build Power Where It Has Been Denied: Connect with and support existing communities built by and for Black trans women. If you can't find one, start one. Organizing collectively, sharing resources, and backing each other in fierce solidarity are radical acts of revolution and survival.
Embrace an Abolitionist Lens: This means taking apart the unjust systems, not trying to tweak them. Support movements working to abolish prisons, decriminalize things people do to survive, center restorative justice, and destroy oppressive borders. Recognize that struggles against these systems are connected.
NOTE: Consider these demands a living document, adapting as they must. This kind of fight won't be easy or comfortable. Resistance to tearing down harmful systems will happen. Stay the course. Abolition means not just survival, but the seeds of a better world sprouting up in the fertile ground of what we destroy. When Black trans women--those forced to navigate the worst of what these institutions dish out--are liberated, we all are.
Where Does Your Fear Become My Death Sentence?
Alliances aren't built on hashtags. We hold the plans to rebuild the whole house. A world where Black trans women flourish in abundance. There are two sides: active liberation or complicit oppression. Where will you stand? Will you turn a blind eye or fight tooth and nail alongside us?