For many people, trans rights seem to be the line in the sand—the place where they feel things have gone “too far.” I’ve seen it in my own life, even in my own family. People who once viewed me as moderate now see me as “far left” because I’m speaking up for trans people.

But why? Why is this the place where so many people stop listening?

Growing up, I only heard the word transexual, not transgender. And it was always in a negative light—stigmatized as something sketchy, promiscuous, or dirty. The same way AIDS was talked about: That’s something those dirty other people have. That’s not us. Trans people were portrayed as freakish, confused, and dangerous. I see now how deeply that messaging shaped my understanding, how it kept me from questioning and kept me from seeing.

I hear the same fears now—that we are messing up our kids by blurring gender lines. That we are confusing them. That we are forcing this on them.

But stories change us. I believe one of the most powerful phrases in the world is help me understand. It can change everything.

So let me tell you my story. I am gender nonconforming. As a kid, I could never wear what others wanted or expected me to wear. Pink didn’t resonate. Dresses, skirts, anything with lace or flowers—it all felt unbearable. Scratchy on my skin, suffocating in a way I could never explain. It was like being forced to eat something that made me gag, over and over again. And when I tried to balance honoring myself while keeping everyone else happy, I failed at both.

When we are forced to abandon our inner knowing, it is a hell. It is a pain so profound that at one point, I thought ending my life was the only way out. It wasn’t until I came out in my late 40s that I began to reconcile this. Now, I wear what I want. I show up fully as myself. And I know, without a doubt, that the world is better for it. I am better for it.

And I’m not alone. More and more kids are expanding the definitions of gender identity and expression. We are outgrowing the constructs that have boxed us in for centuries. Pink and blue? Someone made that up. Dolls for girls, trucks for boys? Made up. None of this is natural—it was all designed to keep people in their “proper” roles. Boys strong, athletic, in the workforce. Girls quiet, submissive, practicing childcare.

We have moved beyond that. And that includes gender identity and expression.

When we don’t understand something, we fear it. When we fear something, we make up explanations to justify that fear. What if, instead of deciding we already know, we started asking?

I’m raising a kid who falls somewhere in this gender-expansive space. Since they were two years old, they have preferred wearing boys’ clothes. They love sports. They love their hair short. If a stranger had to guess, they’d say boy. But when you ask my kid, they’ll tell you they feel somewhere in between. Boy? Girl? Neither label fits. So they use a gender-neutral name and they/them pronouns. That’s what makes them feel like themselves.

And yet, the world keeps telling them there is no place for them.

Take something as basic as bathrooms. If they go into the girls’ room, people assume they are a boy in the wrong space. They can’t go into the boys’ room—it’s illegal. So they just… don’t go. They hold it all day at school. Imagine if your workplace removed all bathrooms and told you to hold it until you got home. That’s what we are telling trans and nonbinary kids.

Or sports. My kid loves sports. But where do they play? What team do they belong on? Right now, there is no place for them. And this is happening everywhere. The laws being passed are not about keeping sports fair—they are about erasing trans kids altogether.

Across the country, states like Tennessee are pushing laws that make life harder for trans people at every level. Tennessee’s new laws include bans on gender-affirming healthcare for minors, restrictions on trans athletes, and policies that allow teachers to misgender students without consequence. And Project 2025—a far-right blueprint for the next administration—goes even further. If enacted, it would:

• Erase LGBTQ+ protections from federal policies

• Restrict gender-affirming healthcare in Medicare and Medicaid

• Reverse protections for trans service members in the military

• Remove federal funding for schools that respect students’ pronouns

• Eliminate language like sexual orientation and gender identity from government documents

This is not just about “concerns.” This is about systemic erasure. It is about telling an entire group of people: You do not belong. You should not exist.

Most of us have felt the sting of marginalization at some point. Most of us know what it’s like to be treated as less than. I remember my first job, when I found out I was being paid $1 less per hour than my male coworker for the same work. It stung.

But here’s the difference: No one was trying to pass laws making sure I could never work there again.

No one is forcing trans kids to be trans. No one chooses to be marginalized. But lawmakers are choosing to take away their rights, their healthcare, their safety. What gives us the right to tell someone else that who they know themselves to be is wrong?

Trans people are not a debate. They are not a hypothetical. They are not faceless.

They are here. They always have been. And they are telling us who they are. Are we listening?

Today, find a trans story and read it. Not a headline. Not a soundbite. A story. Let’s stop making assumptions. Let’s start understanding.