BY MARCUS DAVIS | Over the past four decades, I’ve witnessed a transformation in our society that once seemed unimaginable. As a child of the 80s, being transgender meant living under a constant shadow of fear, with violence and exclusion always nearby. But we fought back. We organized, we carved out spaces where trans people could live with more freedom.
This fight for recognition and safety has been long and arduous. In 2002, New York passed the Sexual Orientation Non-Discrimination Act (SONDA), but transgender people were deliberately left out — a painful compromise that left us exposed. I remember the mixture of hope and frustration during those years, as I attended my first community meetings and rallies. Our focus shifted to passing the Gender Expression Non-Discrimination Act (GENDA). Each legislative delay was a stark reminder that our rights were not a priority. For Black trans people like myself, the stakes were even higher, as we navigated multiple layers of discrimination without legal protection.
GENDA finally passed in 2019, but that victory came after years of being told our safety and dignity were negotiable. Now, as anti-trans laws sweep the country, I feel that familiar shadow looming again. These bills banning gender-affirming care, forcing schools to out trans students, and criminalizing our existence aren’t just policy decisions — they’re calculated efforts to erase us, to drive us back into fear and silence. The darkness we thought we’d escaped is closing in, and this time, it’s targeting our youth.
As a trans person working at the forefront of racial justice with the Movement for Black Lives, I have witnessed how anti-trans laws amplify the oppression already faced by the most vulnerable members of our community. This fight is more than a cause for me, it is about protecting the lives and futures of my community, my family, and myself. Here I want to simply say: To every trans person feeling the weight of these laws, feeling isolated or
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