We are taught to believe that transphobia is an isolated incident. Something that can be addressed in a single conversation or punitive action. An individual problem rather than a systemic issue. It’s like being told that the ocean is just a collection of individual drops of water, ignoring its vastness and relentless force. Its ability to conceal and crush. The ocean scares me.

At the beginning of lockdown in 2020, I was weeks fresh from taking a necessary step in my transition – top surgery. Top surgery, for trans masculine people like me, is the removal of breast tissue in order to make a smaller or flatter chest. For so long up until this point, I thought this surgery, a culmination of years of self-exploration, self-advocacy and desperately saving money, and physical recovery, was where my struggles as a trans person would peak. I still remember the first time I looked at my chest after surgery. My surgeon removed the compression vest and bandaging to reveal two thin red incisions covered by surgical tape. My chest was flat, and my heart full. These incisions would slowly heal into scars over the following months and years, a painful yet welcome reminder of a path I needed to take in order to be myself. But as the physical pain dulled to a background hum, it was easily overshadowed by the ache I felt every time I opened social media or read a new sensationalised headline about trans lives. The world outside my door was relentless, a cruel entity that seemed to take joy in invalidating my existence. The battle for trans rights felt bigger and fiercer than ever, each new attack a blow to my spirit that hurt far more than a physical wound ever could. I felt more myself than I ever had before, yet the collective struggle felt ever-increasing.

Unfortunately, this increase was (and is) not a part of my imagination and is in no way random. Rather, it is part of a coordinated approach from an alliance of organisations such as Genspect and The Society for Evidence-Based Gender Medicine (SEGM), who are masquerading as scientific authorities to propagate misleading information that distorts public and policymaker understanding of transgender issues. These organisations work hard to appear legitimate but digging a little deeper shows that many were only formed in the last three to five years and have the same founders, directors and advisors, one of the more prominent being Stella O’Malley (psychotherapist and founder of Genspect). Genspect and others claim to offer a balanced view on gender identity and medical care for trans individuals, but their real agenda is rooted in undermining established medical and psychological guidelines to restrict access to gender-affirming care, particularly for trans youth. They have successfully influenced key court cases such as Tavistock v Bell in the UK, opposed bans on anti-trans conversion practices in New Zealand, Canada and the UK, and influenced legislative attacks on the trans community in the US. Translegislation.com shows that as of May 2024, 550 anti-trans bills across 42 states have been introduced. These bills aim to restrict trans people’s access to bathrooms, education, healthcare, civil rights and more. Of these bills, 31 have passed, 193 have failed, and 326 remain active. The number of anti-trans bills considered has broken records in the U.S. for four consecutive years.

This year we have also seen the release of the Cass Review – an “independent” review of gender services for children and young people in the UK. The Review was commissioned by the NHS following the 2019 attacks on the Tavistock Gender Identity Development Service. The release of this report is already having devastating impacts on trans and gender diverse people in the UK, and people are starting to see the influence it is having internationally as well. So, why is it so harmful? The Review ignored almost all existing research on the use of hormones in trans healthcare (identifying 103, rejecting 101 of them) and then stated that the evidence was inconclusive. It failed to include any trans people, their families or expert clinicians in the advisory group that led the review. They did this to avoid ‘bias’. It ignored medical consensus on trans healthcare that very clearly says there is nothing wrong with being trans, and that trans youth have a right to access gender-affirming healthcare. It minimised the overwhelming evidence showing that trans young people can thrive when they have access to gender-affirming care. And lastly, it made references to widely disproved anti-trans conspiracy theories such as social contagion, proving that the Review was not evidenced by reliable sources. For many years, the Cass Review kept the names of its advisory board members a secret, but the identity of three of its members was recently uncovered. It’s not surprising they are all members of SEGM – the American anti-trans lobby group. So much for avoiding bias. Given this review will be used to influence policy and guidelines for gender-affirming care, I can honestly say that I fear for the lives of trans and gender diverse young people in the UK.

In this dystopian world where even the most outlandish claims against trans people are treated as fact, I wish I could say that Australia was immune. But anti-trans organisations have found allies among local conservative politicians, religious groups, and media outlets who help to dismantle their disinformation. The goal is no different – create a hostile environment for trans people by questioning the legitimacy of our identities and the necessity for gender affirming care. It’s what drives conservative politicians in their attempts to introduce ant-trans legislation into parliament, it’s what is used by some religious groups to share with their constituents to “further prove” that being trans is wrong or unnatural, and it is what is printed by media outlets to promote negative and misleading information about trans people, contributing to misunderstanding and violence against us.

In 2023, Trans Justice Project and the Victorian Pride Lobby investigated the prevalence and possible escalation of transphobia in Australia, which led to the release of the report ‘Fuelling Hate: Abuse, Harassment, Vilification and Violence Against Trans People in Australia’. From over 3000 responses, nine in ten participants had witnessed online anti-trans hate, one in two trans participants had experienced anti-trans hate, and one in ten had experienced anti-trans violence. It found that anti-trans hate is widespread and escalating, both online and in-person, hate towards trans people spiked during the national tour of anti-trans lobbyist Kellie-Jay Keen, and anti-trans violence is prevalent in Australia. Experiences of online hate included deliberate misgendering, hate speech, bullying, releasing people’s personal information, death threats, incitement to suicide and incitement to genocide. In person hate included workplace bullying, street-based harassment, harassment related to bathroom use, stalking, physical threats and death threats. This of course, has a huge impact on the long-term health and wellbeing of trans and gender diverse people. Even as a vocal advocate who is very publicly proud about my identity as a trans and non-binary person, I’m increasingly finding myself wanting to crawl into a ball and just escape the world for a while. When people tell me, “But things are so much better than they used to be,” I point them to this report. Their comments, while well-intentioned of course, and technically correct in many ways, invalidate the experience of me and many trans and gender diverse people, who are very clearly struggling. I always thought my biggest enemy was myself, but it turns out, there are many people and groups who hate me more than I have ever hated myself, even at my lowest low.

I want to live in a world where trans and gender diverse people’s rights are taken seriously, where our existence and our access to gender affirming care is not up for debate. Too often, our identities and rights as trans people are treated as matters of opinion rather than indisputable fact. The truth is trans people exist. We always have, and we aren’t going anywhere. Our identities are valid, and our rights deserve to be respected. We don’t just deserve to be tolerated, but to be celebrated and embraced for who we are. I want a world where we are supported in accessing healthcare, legal recognition and social inclusion, and our rights are enshrined in law. 

Despite the challenges and injustice trans people face, amidst the external pressures to conform to colonial and patriarchal ideals of gender and expression, there is so much joy and beauty every day that reaffirms my love for being trans and being free from such strict constraints. Every day, I am reminded of the joy and beauty that comes from living authentically as a trans person. It’s in the moments of connection with others who understand and accept me for who I am. It’s in the courage and authenticity that being trans demands, and in the richness, it brings to my identity and relationships. It’s getting to see the unwavering support that some parents have for their trans children today, and younger generations of trans people who get to experience what being accepted feels like from a young age. It’s getting to love and be loved as myself. Being trans is not just a part of who I am – it is one of my favourite things about me. It is a great source of pride and strength, and I can’t imagine my life being any other way. It has also allowed me to dedicate my life and work to advocating not just for trans rights, but the rights of many communities who are marginalised in our society.

The scars on my chest, now fully healed and slightly faded, are not what make me trans, but they allow me to exist comfortably and happily in this world – and there is no reason why anyone should be refused access to such a procedure, or other gender-affirming healthcare, if it helps them to feel this way. I’m at a point in my life where I can’t actually remember a time when I wasn’t trans and advocating for trans rights – even though I know this was once my reality. I feel a sense of responsibility to use my experiences and elevate the voices of others so that everyone can enjoy being proud and comfortable in their body. You may have heard the saying, “You can’t be what you can’t see”, and this is what drives me and excites me to see more and more trans and gender diverse people openly advocating for trans rights and sharing their stories. I am by no means the first and quite clearly, I will definitely not be the last – and I think that is amazing.

So, as I continue to navigate the complexities of being trans in today’s society, I am cautiously hopeful that one day, all trans and gender diverse people will be able to live authentically and freely, without fear of discrimination or violence. And that our stories will continue to grow in focus from discrimination and violence, to joy, hope, community, love and acceptance. Because to me, those things are central to what it means to be a trans person – not the opinions, feelings, and hate others spread toward trans people. Being trans has given me a deeper understanding of myself and the world around me, and it has connected me with a vibrant community of individuals who inspire me every day and make me feel joy in all the difficult and trying times. Despite the challenges and the struggles, I wouldn't trade this journey for anything, as it has led me to embrace my truest self and live authentically in a world that is more beautiful and inclusive because of our diversity.

For now, I take solace in the knowledge that my existence is not dependent on other people’s opinions of me, but rather on my own self-worth and dignity. And that, to me, is the ultimate power. No one can take that away from me.