Trigger warning: assault and violence
If you’re not transgender, November 20th is an average day. It’s probably cold where you are, and it may be cloudy or snowy. Where I am today, the world is shrouded in fog. Frost edges every leaf, and diffuse sunlight reveals mysterious and beautiful shapes through the universe of white outside my window. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m here to see it, and photograph it, and write about it, and take pleasure in it. And I am still very sad.
I’m sad because I know of at least 89 transgender people who died this year by violence for who they were–for who I am: ourselves. I warn you now, I’m writing this to break your heart.
Every year, on November 20th, trans people across the planet gather to hold vigil, to recite the names of those who died this way. We hold our candles, and we read the names and the circumstances of the deaths–on street corners, in churches, in homes, at support groups, and in living rooms. And we cry, because…the way many of these people die? If these things happened to animals, it would be on every news channel, and people would demand action.
Tamara Dominguez: repeatedly run over by vehicle.
Ashton O’Hara: stabbed to death, run over by vehicle.
Diosvany Munoz Robaina: stoning.
Vanessa Calaca: stoned to death.
Yoshi Tsuchida: face cut off, suffocated with bag around head.
This year, there are 89–that we know of; we know others get hushed up to save the family the embarrassment of admitting, not that they callously threw a relative onto the street where they could be dismembered and then burned, but that someone of their blood didn’t fit the bogus binary model of sex and gender we impose on a natural world that simply doesn’t obey it.
I’ve known people on the list, and people who just barely avoided it. This list is a big part of why I’m out–I’ve written better words than this about that, and you can read them if you want. That was two years ago. Every year, I hope the list will get shorter. It doesn’t.
History says most of these murders will go unsolved.
I’m white. I’m rich. I’m very educated, and have a circle of accepting, kind friends and relatives. I’ve honestly never had an unkind word flung at me in public for who I am–that makes me a unicorn. It can be–is–so much worse for so many. The poorer you are, the worse. The poorer your country, the worse. The less white, the worse. The less well-spoken, the worse. The more rigid your religion, the worse. The fewer friends, the worse. The less love from your family, the worse. The less attention from the law, the worse. The less respect from society, the worse.
Things I can’t help having are all that separates me from the people on this list, who can’t help NOT having them. So today, I’m asking you two things.
One: Do what I do. Read the list of names, each one of those 89. Read it and say to yourself, “We remember.”
Two: Spread the message. If you can think of one person today whose mind might change, whose heart might open, who might spread the word that SIMPLE MERCY AND PATIENCE SAVES LIVES, share this with them. Don’t demand that they accept it. Don’t demand that they read it. But if this post breaks your heart, ask them to–for your sake, and for the sake of 89 people, treated as less than animals, and every one worth loving and protecting just as much as me.
WE REMEMBER.
Fran, you are the most amazing sister I could have ever dreamed of. People should not be hurt for being themselves. It breaks my heart and makes me angry. But I love you and the wonderful woman that you are. Thank you for opening eyes, minds and hearts with your powerful words. Always yours, HB