If you were to ask my friends, family, or even colleagues what they thought of me, I can assume a range of adjectives they may use to describe me. Whatever word they came up with, I can say almost with certainty that ‘confrontational’ would not be one of them. For whatever reason, despite enjoying a debate or sharing my opinion, confronting people has never been a strong suit of mine. I have always seen this as a good thing. However, it seems that in today’s political climate around Trans people, this may be an issue.

With the rise of transphobia, implementation of targeted government policies, and increased negative media coverage, people who had held transphobic and bigoted opinions have become emboldened. This coincides with the deployment of AI bots, the use of alter egos on social media, and the stripping away of bullying policies on large media platforms. Today more than ever, if someone wants to attack someone or confront them for being someone they ‘disagree’ with, they can do so at the click of a button. This, for me, has become something I endure regularly. From anonymous comments on my social media that share hateful messages to articles published about me on ‘gender critical’ sites. This form of abuse has been something I have learnt to handle by muting my accounts or switching off my phone.

When I worked in bars, I also became accustomed to being accosted by people who wanted to express their ‘views’ to my face. Questions and statements would range from invasive to downright transphobic, and usually they coincided. I would often deal with these comments alone and not bring them up to management as I didn’t want to cause a fuss. In reality, I was embarrassed and upset. I’ve never really known what to do when people confront me like that. I usually freeze and hope they stop. Sometimes I would call a bouncer over and have them removed; other times, regulars would overhear and have them put out. Either way, I hated it. It made me feel small and scared to be myself. Every shift, I watched the bar as I waited for the next person to mock me. The next person to vilify me. The next person to demean me. This was not good for me mentally, nor was it conducive to a happy and healthy life. It was, however, my reality.

Unfortunately, unlike turning off my phone or muting social media, I cannot stop another person from confronting me in the streets, at a bar, or at work. It is this realisation that often terrifies me and causes me to be alert when I leave the house, with my shoulders tensed, eyes peeled, and mind swirling with angst. Being in this mindset is nothing short of exhausting.

The exhaustion that stems from always being alert and tense ate away at me in a way that I didn’t fully comprehend until recently. For the past few months, the Trans community knew that the EHRC guidance would come into full effect on August 5th. For me, I chose to ignore this looming date and get on with my life. This ultimately meant that when August 5th came and went, I entered full alert. I admittedly didn’t leave my house for five days following the introduction of this new guidance for fear of what people may say or do. I stopped exercising, put my hobbies on hold, and sat alone with my anxiety.

It is my passions, whether it be writing, politics, or cooking, that help keep me above water. They allow me to forget about the hate, transphobia, or perception from others. I can become fully engrossed in the activity and find the joy and passion that allow me to be happy. That is why when I suddenly stopped writing, talking about politics, or cooking, my friends and family became concerned. I was suddenly silent and frozen.

It has been over the past few days that I have come to realise that if I make myself small, step away from my passions, and silence my voice, then those who perpetuate this ugly and bigoted transphobic campaign win. Their goal is to silence all Trans people and relegate us to the edges of society. For that reason, I now understand that my Trans siblings and I cannot stop speaking out or doing what we love. Our passions, hobbies, and joys are what make us who we are.

At some point in our lives, as a Trans person, we broke away from what society said was ‘normal ’, and we choose to live unequivocally as our authentic selves. We defied these ‘norms’ in order to be happy and live the rest of our lives with purpose. As we began this new part of our lives, we made friends, found our family, and picked up new hobbies. We learned to deal with the hate, ignore the rhetoric, and continue to strive for better. It is this foundation that we have built that we can never forget.

With all of this, I can safely say that I will still struggle with fear over potential confrontations. I will have days where I will struggle to go outside or post online. However, I can now guarantee that I will never stop doing what I love. In fact, I will strive to leave my house each day with my head a little higher, shoulders a bit more relaxed, and mind a bit quieter.

It is so important in these times of uncertainty, political toxicity, and fear that we as a community and as a people never break away from what makes us unique. It is our dedication to being ourselves despite being confronted or bullied that sets us apart from others. Our uniqueness and ability to defy the rhetoric is what will allow us to build a fairer and more equal society.

This isn’t the first time I have been hit with fear or worry towards a new government policy, comment from a pundit, or new campaign to target me and my community. I can say with certainty this won’t be the last either. Trans people have been enduring a sustained and coordinated campaign to ostracize and eventually remove us from society at large. The EHRC guidance is a tool in that campaign to create an unequal and repressive society for the Trans community.

Now, this has happened before. Many will recall the introduction of Section 28 by then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in 1988. This law was meant to ban the ‘promotion of homosexuality’ in schools and at local council level in the hopes of removing Queer and in particular, Gay acceptance from society. Twenty-Eight years later, I think it is fair to say that this failed. In fact, in the following years, public discourse began to shift from acceptance of this archaic and homophobic law to a new and proud acceptance of our Gay and Lesbian neighbours. Section 28 was repealed at the turn of the century and today it is seen as a failure of government. The homophobic media discourse, toxic political landscape, and societal bigotry failed. Attendance to Pride marches increased year on year, LGBTQ+ people were elected, and societal acceptance blossomed.

In times like the ones we face currently, it can be difficult for me to see this happening today. Polls show diminishing support for Trans people, once pro LGBT politicians and pundits have gone silent, and the online discourse has become toxic. The world appears to be getting smaller and more hateful. Or at least that is what those at the helm of this campaign would like us to think.

With being such a small and spread out community, it is very easy lose sight of the support and love we currently have. I often fall victim to this by allowing myself to be consumed by the pure hatred and transphobia our community faces online. In reality, although this hate grows, it is not the majority.

In fact, over the past few months and years, it has been my colleagues, friends, and family that have helped reengage my hope that things will get better. From simply (and most importantly) treating me like a human, to having a shoulder to cry on , to having a hand ready to help lift me off the mat. It has been this wide group of people (mostly cis) that have made the biggest difference in my life. It is important to remember that most people just want to live their own life and often spare little thought to how others choose to live. This type of thinking is what has helped me over the past few days realise that this is in fact my life and I get to decide how I want to walk the earth. No one gets to make that decision for me.

It is also worth noting, that Queer culture and Trans culture helps make our society a better and more interesting place. It is the Trans woman who shows woman that you can be unequivocally yourself, the Gay politician or business leader who shows the closeted 20 year old boy that you can excel, and it is the Lesbian footballer or athlete that demonstrates that not only can woman dominate in sports but you can love who you want while you compete too.

Despite efforts made by governments, pressure groups, and the media in the 60s/70s/8-s/90s/00s, the Gay and Lesbian community went nowhere. In fact they came out stronger and more defiant then ever before. This is what I believe is the future for the Trans community. With this current pressure campaign, Trans people will go nowhere. We have made the ultimate decision that any human can make and that is living authentically as ourselves. No matter what comes down the line, it will be the defiant, strong, and loud Trans community and our allies that history looks kindly on.

All of this is to say, no matter how dark and hopeless it appears, we will always get back up. Whether it be with the support of our cis allies, Trans Siblings, or Trans Elders, there is someone always waiting to extend their hand and lift us off the mat. As at the end of the day, it is us as a community, as a people, that will bring us closer to a society of true equality.

Over the past five or so years, I have been in a constant state of survival. I was not living in a way that was conducive to a happy life. Instead, I treated each day like it could be my last. I walked the streets, petrified of what people would say to me. I restricted myself mentally and turned quite introverted. This year, I’ve noticed a shift. A change in my mental understanding of my own life. For the first time in years, I want to be alive. In fact, I want to live. This all comes at a time when I had the chance to mark my fourth birthday of being out as my authentic self. Four years of no longer hiding or pretending.

Coming to terms with the fact that I was a trans woman, then taking the step to publicly live according to my gender, came at a time when my mental health was already at its lowest levels. Anxiety and depression ran my life. My desire to be alive was almost non-existent. But, despite this, I came out anyway. First, to my friends and family. Then, eventually, living full-time as me, Caitlin. I look back on these moments no longer with deep-seated sadness, but instead as a sign that I clearly wanted to be alive. I just needed to live in a different way.

Every year that has passed has been difficult in its own right. From transitioning to learning how to cope with poor mental health, I was on a journey. In fact, I am still on that journey. Mental health is still a struggle. My transition still has its lows. But, for the first time in a long time, I acknowledge that I have gotten better. Every year has marked an improvement in my life. All the negative events. All my low moments. They have served as catalysts for me to grow and develop into the young woman I am today.

Understanding this was no easy task. It has taken countless hours of therapy, being open and honest with friends and family, and coming to terms with my own boundaries and limits. Moments of crying, panic attacks and feeling like there was no point were common. The past few years have been the hardest and most complicated of my life. But they have allowed me to feel something I never thought was possible. I not only want to live, but I also love being alive. Today, I take joy in the connections I make with other people, I celebrate events that have developed me, and I understand that no matter how dark it gets, I will get through it.

All of this allowed me to recognise that this year was quite an important year for me. March 14th, 2026, marked four years since I started publicly identifying as a woman. Now, in previous years, I did not mark dates like this. I chose to ignore them as best I could. But this year I decided differently. I called my friends from London to Belfast, Edinburgh to Glasgow and got them all together for a weekend. A weekend where we all celebrated the day that Caitlin was introduced to the world.

Now, unfortunately, this comes when ‘gender critical’ (transphobic) rhetoric has reached a high throughout the UK. From lawsuits to policy to straight-up transphobic dog whistles. The past number of years have not been easy for the trans community, and it doesn’t appear this will change anytime soon. So how on earth am I happy?

The truth is that my newfound desire to be alive has raised a shield around me that says quite loudly, no one can stop me. I now know that no matter what someone’s ‘opinion’ is on my identity, no matter what people say to me, nor the abuse I receive, I will never stop walking this planet as myself. No one will ever be able to silence me. Not now. Not ever. I’ve suffered too much and hated myself for too long to let someone else tell me how to live.

Learning that only I can decide how I want to live was a journey that was often intertwined with my mental health struggles. Understanding that no one has the right to dictate how I present, identify, or live was something that altered my brain chemistry. It was like a weight that had been glued to my chest for more than a decade had finally been removed. Not only can I breathe again, but I can now run, jump and play. I can move around the world confidently.

Life is never as simple as Hollywood or social media would like to make it out to be. Sometimes we are thrown curveballs that knock us on our ass, and it is our job with the support of friends and family to get back up again. Poor mental health is one of those things that can knock us down for an incredibly long period of time. It can push us down every time we attempt to stand back up. But, little by little, every time we try to stand, we make it farther and eventually, before we know it, we are standing tall. Showing the world that not only did we overcome a period of despair and destitution, but that we showed ourselves that we were capable.

Looking back on the past five or so years, I just want to tell my younger self that it will get better. That one day soon you will want to live, and you will be genuinely happy. Marking my fourth birthday was a small step to remind myself that life is worth it. A celebration of life. A life worth living. A life I can now find joy in.

I know that life is not smooth sailing from here. I still suffer from depression and anxiety. I am still a trans woman in an increasingly hostile society. But I will work to remember that I am who I am, no matter how I feel or how I am treated. I am here not because I have to be, but because I want to be.

The alarm goes off. I press stop and grab my phone. It’s 4 am. I remove my blanket and, with my eyes barely open, head to the bathroom. I’m blinded by the white overhead light. I am now awake. I grab a towel and drench it in hot water as I prepare my face for my morning routine. As the hot towel warms my face, I prepare my razor. I begin to shave. First with the grain. Then against the grain. I rinse. Double cleanse. Then moisturise. I make my way back to my room to pick out an outfit for the day. Every morning, I have the same thoughts. Do I look masculine in this? Are my shoulders too pronounced? Should I work from home? Eventually, I try to overcome the blaring dysphoria, and I move to apply my makeup. Hide the shadow. Conceal the blemishes and shape the face. I stop for a moment and look back at the reflection in the mirror. I take a deep breath and decide maybe I do look alright. With that, I leave my home and make my way to work. Another morning. Another routine done.

Waking up in the morning. Going to work. Going on a night out. Meeting friends for coffee. These are all regular things I do on a daily basis. However, for many trans people and me, they are met with hurtful and complicated thoughts. Dysphoria: the mental state of unease due to the clear mismatch between our ‘gender at birth’ and our real gender. Describing how dysphoria feels is not something I find easy. It is a personal and profound emotion that exists throughout my life and probably will until my final days. Does it get easier? Yes, it does. Does it still hurt? Yes, it does.

When you talk to a trans person about dysphoria, more often than not, they will have a particular event or thing that triggers these thoughts. For me, it is going to work. I have worked in multiple jobs, in two different countries, as myself over the past four years. But, for some reason, it never gets easier. I worry about what my colleagues may think or how I may be treated. I panic if I don’t look ‘feminine’ enough or act a certain way. When I use the restroom, I rush in, rush out and hope no one says anything or sees me. This is how my brain operates.

In reality, over the past several months, I have learned that these thoughts are unfounded and without any real basis. My colleagues respect me for me. I am not misgendered. I am not confronted. I am treated like every other woman there. These more positive experiences have begun a process of altering the way I think.

Now, it is important to stress that dysphoria is not logical. It is a horrible feeling of disgust, anxiety and sadness. It is, however, something I try very hard to overcome. It is the positive moments that help me to realise that these thoughts are indeed not based in reality. They are, instead, thoughts that I need to understand will pop up, but my reality and my experience trump whatever negative words or feelings that enter my head.

Four years after publicly coming out, I am still overcome with happiness when I am gendered correctly, called my name or complimented on my makeup or clothes. It is these moments that help alter the way I think about myself.

In my head, I know I am a girl, and I know that by transitioning, I saved my life. I know that my life is better every day I live as my authentic self. It is not the approval of others that quashes my dysphoria, but it is my own internal recognition that I am me that usurps my dysphoric thoughts. Sometimes, hearing my name said back to me is enough to change the course of my day for the better.

It is little things like this that are not talked about when the trans experience is discussed. Whether that be by trans people themselves or others. Dysphoria and the impact it has on trans people is often swept under the rug to avoid causing discomfort to others. Most people will never understand the realities of what it is like to live as a trans person. Most won’t know the second-guessing that takes place day in and day out or the internalised transphobia that takes years to dismantle.

Dysphoria is a challenge. It is a hurdle that trans people jump every day. Even with this, trans people don’t stop. We still come out. We still overcome the odds of survival. We still walk the streets, walk the office halls and live amongst our neighbours. We present as the truest version of ourselves and walk with our heads high as we do. Dysphoria is not something that controls us. It is a darkness that we shine a light on in order for ourselves to shine brighter every day.

That’s the message I sent my best friend on a cold December night in 2020. That text was a stepping stone in allowing myself to come out of my shell. For the first time, another human being other than myself was going to know my truth. I was no longer going to be alone. That night, I went to bed petrified of what was to come. Had I made a mistake? Am I strong enough to go through with this? These questions swirled around my head for hours as I attempted to get some sleep. As I started to drift off, I was left with one thought: this would be my final night of lying to myself.

The next morning, I woke up in a sort of daze. My chest felt like it was being crushed by an elephant. My mind was moving at a thousand miles an hour with questions, thoughts and worst-case scenarios. I grabbed my coat, put on my shoes, took a deep breath and left my house towards the bus. Was I scared? Absolutely. Did I know what was to come? Not at all. I sat in a daze, staring into the distance, thinking how this conversation, this moment, will be what kick starts the beginning of my life. The bus came to a sudden stop and opened its doors. I stepped off, and there she was. Waiting for me with an expression that was both of happiness and concern. I walked over, said hello, and immediately she said, ‘‘What’s up?’’

My voice caught in my throat. I couldn’t get the words out. I was terrified. All of a sudden, I said, ‘‘I’m trans… I’m… I’m a girl.’’ Her response was cool and collected. She said, ‘‘ok. Do you have a new name?’’ At this moment, the tears were ready to stream. But, after taking a deep breath, I said, ‘‘Its Caitlin.’’ Suddenly, my best friend jumped up with excitement. Filled with absolute joy, she explained how happy and proud she was. We talked for hours, going over all the changes I could no longer wait to make. It was then that the fear dripped away and was replaced by a clear sense of happiness. I went home that day and realised for the first time; I wasn’t alone.

To say I felt relief would be a gross understatement. For me, this was the start of my transition. A journey that was going to change my life forever. Days and weeks followed as I came out to more friends and slowly started telling family. Each time I told someone, I was ready to lose them. Not because they showed signs of bigotry or anything remotely transphobic. But, with a massive increase in transphobic rhetoric in the news, social media and in politics, I was convinced that everyone would turn away from me. In reality, those who genuinely cared for me have stood by my side, day in and day out.

Life after this changed, and it changed quick. Within a year, I was Caitlin at university and Caitlin at my job. However, there was one more thing I had to do before it was all final; I had to make the dreaded Facebook post that notified everyone else of this new me. A post on a social media platform that seemed like it may be better to just put an ad in a newspaper.

Coming out is not something that I, as a trans woman, took lightly. I knew the significance of telling people. The risks. The chance of rejection. Or even worse, blatant transphobia. With that, coming out to people one at a time is tiresome. You build yourself up, deal with hours of anxiety, tell the person, then come down. Each time this cycle repeats. Each time you hope you don’t have to do it again. The purpose of my post was to notify the rest of my friends, family and acquaintances that this change has happened and that from now on I am going to live my life authentically.

In my room at university, I sat around with my friends and drafted the post. ‘‘This is just a little update about me to my friends and family…’’ It’s important to note that there was nothing ‘little’ about what followed that sentence. As I finished writing, I read each word. Again. Again. And again. In the end, as my thumb nervously hovered over the post button, I took a breath and clicked ‘post’. I threw my phone onto my bed. I looked around at my friends and said, ‘it’s done’. My best friend hugged me and said, ‘‘I’m proud of you. You make me proud to be a woman’’. At that moment, I had a thought that if someone else is proud of me, why am I not proud of me?

The reality was that I was so caught up worrying about everyone else, I never stopped to think of how far I had come. In the span of a little more than a year, I went from crying alone in my bedroom to walking down the street as the girl I once dreamed about. I had accomplished what I once thought was impossible.

Today, four years later, I look back at these moments with a sense of relief. Little did that younger version of me know that coming out was the most positive thing she’d ever done. I now have confidence, joy and a desire to live. I go to work, walk down the street, and wake up as a woman. The girl who once tiptoed around the house, in dresses and wearing makeup, hoping no one would see, now leaves the house wearing dresses and makeup without a second thought.

Coming out unequivocally saved my life. If I didn’t take that first step and tell my friend, there is a world where I wouldn’t be here today. Reflecting on these moments is difficult. They are full of pain, hardship and anxiety. But I am glad I did it. I wouldn’t change my journey, my story, for the world.

Survive.

That is now the goal of the trans community.

Stay together. Work together. Survive.

Following the UK Supreme Courts ruling on the definition of a ‘women’ the trans community has become inundated with hatred both online and in-person. In fact even here on Substack, people have decided to use my comment section as a chance to express their transphobic views on my right to exist.

Before this ruling trans people were already fearful of their personal safety. Many trans woman, including myself, avoided going to the bathroom for hours for fear of being accosted. We kept our heads down while walking down the street to avoid the stares or disgusted looks. We sat in our rooms for hours crying about what could or what has already happened.

The reality is that over recent years abuse towards the trans community has risen significantly. The BBC revealed in 2023 that trans targeted hate crimes rose by 11% in a twelve month period in England and Wales. This is on the back of a Stonewall report stating that 2 in 5 trans people have experienced a hate crime with this number rising with trans woman of colour. Gallop also released figures that 43% of trans and non-binary people have experienced abuse from family members.

On a personal level, I have seen a rapid growth in verbal abuse from members of the public both at work and on the street. Yelling, intimidation, slurs.

I believe that the confidence given to strangers to accost trans people by-and-large trickles down from the upper echelons of our society; government, media, pulpit.

It is over the past few years that we have witnessed a shift from an almost universal liberal attitude towards LGBTQ+ people to a hateful and almost vengeful attitude. It was Conservative Prime Minister David Cameron in 2016 that pledged to ensure the UK was the, ‘‘best place in Europe if you are lesbian, gay, bisexual or trans.’’

In the less than ten years since these comments, Prime Ministers from both Conservative and Labour have followed the same script; deny a trans persons identity, use policy to remove them from spaces, call for compassion while constantly using dog whistles and refuse to meet trans people or activists.

It is actions like that of Secretary of State for Health; Wes Streeting, banning puberty blockers without consultation or banning trans woman from same-sex wards, that I believe gives fuel to those who are looking for a group to demonise and abuse.

The Wednesday ruling by the Supreme Court is just another log onto the fire of transphobic abuse. The difference is that this time is not rhetoric or policy. It is legal precedent that opens the door to banning trans woman from spaces, indirectly allowing discrimination and giving the go ahead for trans people to lose legal protections. Government agencies have already moved to freeze trans positive policies in recent days.

The media has not been immune from this shift. In fact, they have been an active participant. Right wing tabloids use dog whistles and ‘explosive’ taglines to describe the trans community, corporations like the BBC hide behind the guise of ‘impartiality’ when not allowing a trans person on their network without a ‘gender-critic’, and social media allows transphobic rhetoric to flourish.

Behind the pulpit, clerics have taken to expressing their opinion about trans rights. Some refusing to give trans people communion while other using the pulpit as a place to espouse hatred. In 2024 the Vatican released ‘Dignitas Infinita’ which broadly denounces so-called ‘gender theory’ and rejects gender transition in general.

The government, the media and the pulpit have turned against the trans community en masse and in a relatively short space of time.

These three factors, along with many others that will be discussed another time, have cumulated to create the perfect storm for transphobia to fester in the public realm. I have already heard people use one of the above three sources, sometimes more, as justifications for their anti-trans rhetoric.

All of this means one thing; violence against trans people will increase.

Trans people are under threat. Online. In the streets. At work.

We currently live in an era where our lives feel that they have been upended for no other reason than people don’t like who we are. We live in a world where we are on guard and almost prepared from some comment.

With this in mind, next time someone makes a transphobic remark don’t let them say ‘it was a joke’. Next time you see a trans woman struggling in the bathroom, glance a smile. Next time you see a trans person being accosted, step in. Your support and your help could be the reason why we live another day.

Today, trans people across the UK were left in a state of shock, confusion and worry as they heard the UK Supreme Court rule that a transgender woman is not a woman according to the 2010 Equality Act. This not so surprising ruling has now opened a door that many fear will lead to an increase in discrimination and create suffering for transgender people in areas that were once protected. As a young transgender woman I can’t help but worry about my future. I can’t help but feel alone. Today the courts have proven that they cannot be relied upon to safeguard a small but vulnerable minority in our society.

Throughout my transition, I always assumed that the 2004 Gender Recognition Act and the 2010 Equality Act were unimpeachable. I assumed my rights were secure under law. Today proved how wrong I was and that the trust I had in our legal system was based on naivety. The courts have joined a growing trend of decisions made by governments and politicians that are deeply rooted in transphobia. For trans people across the UK, the courts, parliament, and the government can no longer be trusted.

The pain and anger felt this morning as the ruling was broadcast is not something I am soon to forget nor is it something that won’t be felt again. In reality, I know that myself and my community will continue to face increased discrimination from the system which will always translate to an increase in abuse and threat of violence from hateful individuals in our society. It is this reality that shapes the way many of us choose to live our lives. From avoiding using a restroom, to not leaving our homes to thinking about not wanting to be here. This is the life we currently live. It is the ‘what if’ from today's ruling that has myself and many others terrified of the days, weeks and months ahead.

It is our anger and pain that also begs us to ask the question of ‘why’? Why are we victims of an organised campaign to declare us as ‘enemies’ of women? Why are we being attacked just for being the most authentic version of ourselves? In these questions I must wonder what people who identify as ‘cisgender’ must think about what this means for them. In recent months women who are cisgender but mightn’t fit the stereotypical look of a ‘woman’ have been targeted when in toilets, changing rooms and just walking around. The idea of what a woman is does not only affect the trans community, but instead is rooted in an unconscious bias of both misogyny and transphobia. When those in power are finished targeting me and my friends they will move onto another group to stigmatize and ostracize.

As I take a moment to examine the legal and political institutions that are meant to protect me, I can’t help but wonder what may come next. Today the National Healthcare Service has announced that it will take this ruling into account when writing its policy for same-sex wards. Others are calling for trans women to now be banned from toilets, changing rooms and refuge spaces. Yesterday, trans women could rely on the law to ensure that our basic right to use a toilet was protected. Today we are not so sure we have those protections.

Trans people now face an impossible question; When the institutions don’t protect you, who will? This question will not be answered today and may not be answered for quite some time. What I do know is that trans people have said for years that this would happen. Time and time again we have warned that the current political climate is moving us towards a trend of transphobia and exclusion. Many said this would never happen. Today, we learned that our calls of fear were indeed based in reality.

Trans people are rightly frightened and disillusioned with our systems institutions. It is vital that over the coming days we take time to process what has occurred. We have to sit with our friends and family to digest the new world we live in. Our anger and pain must be used to demand change. The campaign for equality does not end today. We will pick it back up tomorrow and when we do we need the support of our allies. This campaign for true and unending equality does not happen when we are alone. But, instead change occurs when we band together as a community and a society.

Throughout human history, minorities have been attacked by those in the ‘majority’ for political or personal gain. Whether this be the targeting of people of colour, the segregation of the Irish, the demonisation of Gay men or the malicious attacks on migrants. Time and time again, those in fragile positions of power select a group and begin a targeted campaign consisting of hate, misinformation and fear. When I was growing up through the 2010s, the selected group was migrants. Mainly those from Syria and the middle east escaping deadly conflicts. In recent years, however, populist politicians and right wing political parties have switched focus to the transgender community. A group that was already stigmatised, ostracised, and vilified. A group I happen to be a member of.

Growing up, I never would have thought that one day I would be a member of a community that was the target of an organised culture war by politicians, media pundits and clerics. My parents never thought that their child would be the target of verbal abuse on a daily basis and at risk of physical violence just for being themselves. The horror stories I was once taught in school about how gay men in the 1980s were treated, were now becoming my reality.

When I began publicly presenting as a woman, using she/her pronouns and using my new name, my life changed. It changed for the better. It gave me a real opportunity to be the most authentic version of myself. My transition allowed me to be happy for the first time in years and allowed me to gain confidence in myself. I could finally love me.

The quickly changing politically landscape in the United Kingdom, Europe and the Unites States of America was something I was not counting on. In the latest American Presidential election, the Republican party spent upwards of $100 million on anti-trans ads across the country. Their goal was to galvanise people against the trans community and paint Donald Trump as the only person able to deal with the ‘woke’ agenda supposedly being pushed on them. In the UK, the Conservative party and to an extent Labour, have shifted attention to the trans community and have begun targeting them in the media, through policy and on social media. The US once considered a beacon of freedom and the UK once considered an accepting country for LGBTQ+ people, have both turned their back on a minority in need of defending.

This is all to say that when I came out I had to change things about my life. My personal safety has become paramount. Not only as a woman but as a trans woman. My social media has been made private due to an increase in trolls and threats. I don’t use certain facilities due to fear of aggression by strangers and I don’t go to many countries as they don’t accept me.

In this new landscape I find myself in, I think back to the groups before us who were targeted. How growing up I was inspired by James Baldwin, Harvey Milk, and Malala Yousafzai. Their ability to stand up not only for their themselves but for their community is something that sticks at the front of my mind. Despite the hatred they stood up to those in power an demanded change.

It is with the legacy of those activists and champions of human rights that I have begun this website. Although not on the same level of the aforementioned, I would be remiss if I didn’t speak out about the challenges my community currently face.

I will be following political developments that impact trans people from the UK to Europe to America and combining that with my own interpretations and opinions. My lived experience as a young trans woman has a direct impact on my writing and how I chose to comment on particular issues. I will never hide my true opinion. I will aim to cut through the blur of laws or policy papers and present a clear picture of what is happening to the trans community.

Today, the trans community faces possible legal erasure in America, complete alienation in the UK and a roll back on rights across the world. Today more than ever we need your support.