If it's alright, I wanted to share a little something I wrote to summarize my feelings about the news lately, about allies, about, well, a lot of things.
I want to say it was back in 2015, that day I realized just how many people I was following on Twitter had come out as transgender. I suppose it happened gradually, but it felt sudden; one day, trans people were a curiousity or an edge case, the next, they were my friends. The next step, that I too was transgender, would follow a few years later.
Now, each of us faces the daily decision to continue being who we are in the public eye or draw back and keep ourselves safe. Today, transgender people are your friends, but tomorrow some of your friends may remove the trans flag from their bios, peel a pride sticker off their cars and bikes, or dress a bit more conservatively. Tomorrow, perhaps a man will read an update to the trans travel guide and decide it's safer for him to not leave home after all. Tomorrow, perhaps a woman will read about another right-wing zealot calling all transgender people "groomers," and decide to give up on her career in education. Tomorrow, perhaps a nonbinary person will hear a preacher shouting that God only created two genders, and decide maybe they shouldn't join their friends and neighbors at church any more.
One by one, we'll stop being your friends, and start becoming those people. Pretty soon, you won't see much of us at all. When that day comes, you won't see the people who make the internet work for you, the people who write the stories that inspire you, the people who cook and serve the food that plays across your tounge, the people who compose and play the music that gets you up on your feet and dancing, the people who sit next to you on the bus and look down at their phones with a smile on their faces, the people who coax new truths about the universe out from mathematical babel, the people who make sure the dogs and cats in your family are always as fluffy and clean as they can be, the people who just want to live their lives, the same as you do.
That day hasn't come yet. We're still here and you can still see us if you're willing to look. You can tell us that we're welcome to join you and be your friends. You can argue for us and keep us safe when we're not there, when we're too tired, or too worn down from the day's news. You can listen when we tell you something hurts. You can tell us you love us for the people we are.
That day hasn't come yet. You still have a little time to be here with us.