She had to slog through deep snow to remove them herself.
Hateful flyers circulated in Billings, Montana, falsely accusing local trans activist Adria Jawort of “grooming children,” according to local news outlet KTVQ. The flyers, which perpetuate the false narrative from the anti-trans right that all trans people are pedophiles, were posted near schools in Jawort’s neighborhood just days before Thanksgiving.
Jawort had to travel across town in heavy snow to remove the flyers herself.
“I was annoyed about it,” she told KTVQ, describing how the flyers misgendered her and made hateful claims about her life and sexuality. “I was just thinking, why am I doing this? Why do I have to do this? Why do people think this is okay?”
“The thing the flyer said, calling me a groomer and stuff, and basically labeling me as a danger to the community,” Jawort added. “It’s like one of the most awful things you can say. How does that become normalized?”
Billings police are currently investigating the incident. Lt. Matthew Lennick spoke on what constitutes hate speech: “Once someone transitions from making a general statement about their beliefs or another group to a targeted attack on an individual… a victim could take civil action against someone attempting to defame them.”
Possible criminal charges could include disorderly conduct, stalking, intimidation, or harassment, among others.
While Jawort knows the group responsible, she says she’s more frustrated by the ongoing attacks on state Rep. Zooey Zephyr (D-MT). Recently, Republicans unsuccessfully attempted to ban her from women’s bathrooms.
Jawort has been targeted before. Last year, a lecture she was set to give at a library was canceled after a drag ban, with staff citing concerns that hosting a transgender person posed “too much of a legal risk.” This led her to file a lawsuit against the state.
With Trump potentially returning to office, I’m concerned that more transgender people will be denied the right that had such a profound impact on my life.
When I learned on August 21st that the Texas Department of Public Safety had quietly revoked the ability to change your gender on driver’s licenses and birth certificates, I was stunned. Devastated. The already daunting process of officially changing one’s name and gender marker had just been taken away. Trans Texans are now stripped of a right that once allowed me to live with less fear. And as Donald Trump nears a potential return to office, many are fearful that trans Americans nationwide could face the same loss.
On a random Tuesday in December 2020, I made the decision to start hormone replacement therapy (HRT). By then, I had been using they/them pronouns for two years and had undergone top surgery eight months earlier. For years, I had thought about beginning HRT, hoping it would help me escape a life where people assumed I was a woman based solely on my appearance. That day, I finally felt ready to silence the voices in my head telling me I’d be letting others down by embracing who I truly was. I was ready to step out of the shadows—out of the expectations others placed on me—and into my own light. I went to an LGBTQ+ clinic, got a prescription for testosterone, and, in that moment, I felt like my life was finally beginning.
And then everything changed.
By April 2021, my voice had deepened, stubble began appearing on my face, and I no longer had a period—physical changes I embraced with open arms. Strangers began noticing too, and suddenly, I was being treated differently. The looks I once got as a perceived butch lesbian shifted to confused stares, discomfort, and sometimes, outright disdain.
‘Dropping off flowers for your wife?’ a receptionist at a gynecologist’s office asked me that same April. ‘Not quite,’ I replied with a nervous laugh. ‘I’m here for an appointment.’ As is customary, I handed over my ID. She glanced at it—name: [something I no longer go by], sex: F—then looked back at me, clearly unsure how to reconcile the mismatch. She called over a coworker, whispering about what to do in this ‘situation.’ I stared at my phone, trying to stay calm as the coworker muttered, ‘Just check her in.’ And she did. I sat down, feeling that familiar discomfort of my presence unsettling others.
Throughout that entire doctor’s appointment, I was treated as though my body was something entirely unique—as if I were the only person who had ever transitioned. In moments like these, I try to chalk it up to ignorance, reminding myself that 71% of Americans say they’ve never met a trans person. But at what point does ‘ignorance’ become too generous?
This same scenario unfolded at the club when bouncers checked my ID, when people hesitated to call me ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ as they guided me to a table at restaurants, or when customer service reps asked me twice as many security questions as they did for others. And every time I needed to use the bathroom, I had to make the decision: men’s or women’s? At best, I was made uncomfortable for a few seconds. At worst, I was subjected to slurs or threats of violence. In all those moments, I told myself, ‘It’s no big deal’—as though it were no big deal for my mere existence to constantly puzzle or disturb people. The very fact of my body made others treat me as if I were a problem. I came to expect discomfort every time I stepped outside my door.
Every time I grabbed my keys, phone, and wallet, I weighed the emotional and physical risks of venturing out into the world. This constant calculation is why some trans people delay medical care or feel disconnected from the world around them. It’s also why, after two years on HRT, I finally decided to change the name and gender marker on my ID. But this was not a decision I made lightly.
Until August, changing your name and gender marker in Texas cost $350 (plus lawyer fees, unless you could prove you couldn’t afford it). You also needed a doctor’s note stating that you were ‘receiving clinically appropriate treatment related to your gender identity.’ (The pathologizing of transness is its own burden.) Once you had those documents and filled out a ‘Petition to Change the Name and Sex/Gender Identifier of an Adult’ form, you had to appear before a county judge. That judge could deny your petition for any reason—or no reason at all. It was a request, not a guarantee. In Texas, trans people often seek advice from other trans folks about which counties to target, because not all judges are inclusive. Many travel from across the state to Austin, the third-queerest city in the U.S., in hopes of a more supportive judge. Even then, judges can demand more ‘proof’ than the law requires. In a state where anyone can change their last name after marriage with minimal hurdles, trans people are forced to jump through countless hoops just to have their gender recognized.
It took a month for me to get a letter from a doctor. Another month passed before I could find time to go to the courthouse, which was only open during regular work hours—a schedule that most people can’t easily accommodate. When I finally arrived at the Travis County office, I sat for two hours waiting to be helped. A county clerk, who had warmly greeted other patrons, glanced at my petition and abruptly told me, ‘If you aren’t finished with your papers, we can’t help you.’ Despite the cold reception, I was determined to get this done—to untangle the mess of living as a visibly trans person. I handed in my request, and six weeks later, I received an email with a PDF confirming that my petition had been approved.
Afterward, I spent months updating my name and gender marker on my driver’s license, social security card, passport, and a slew of other official documents. One might ask, ‘Why would anyone willingly sign up for such a cumbersome and clearly prejudiced process?’ The answer is simple: I needed it. My body not matching the letters on my ID had become a life-threatening issue. Without the change, I’d still be trapped in the daily hell of being put in emotional and physical danger. Not all trans people feel the need to change their name and gender marker, but for me, it was crucial. Because this option was available, I’ve been able to build a new life.
The difference between my life from April 2021 to September 2022—when I didn’t ‘look like a girl’ but still had a feminine name and sex on my ID—and now is like night and day. I can hand over my ID and no longer feel like I’m putting myself in harm’s way. It says ‘Kaybee,’ Sex: M (though that still doesn’t feel right, since Texas hasn’t offered an X gender marker yet). Now, when I pass over a piece of plastic, I no longer feel like I’m outing myself or offering my life up for judgment.
In the same month that Texas reversed the right to change your name and gender marker, Trump announced he would sign an executive order banning gender-affirming care for trans youth on his first day back in office. As if it isn’t enough that Governor Greg Abbott, Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, and a whole host of other Texas politicians have pushed so much misinformation about the trans community that people now feel emboldened to mistreat us. As if it’s not enough that Texas attempts to pass transphobic laws every year.
Everything about this group of people—who could never understand what it’s like to hand over an ID that doesn’t match how the world sees you—fills me with disgust. They don’t know even a fraction of what people like me go through, just to live authentically.
Yes, I still have to explain to medical providers that my legal sex and my sex assigned at birth are not the same. Yes, I still out myself every time I take off my shirt, revealing the two beautiful top surgery scars that are part of my journey. My goal was never to ‘pass’ as cis, or to meet the ridiculous expectations that transphobes project onto us. My goal has always been to be myself. Safely.
Trump’s inauguration is on January 20th, and the next Texas legislative session—the period when most anti-trans laws will be debated—starts just a week earlier, on January 14th. In preparation, Texas lawmakers have already prefiled 34 anti-trans bills for the 2025 session. Now is the time to act, to support and defend the psychological and physical safety of trans people. I will be contributing both money and volunteer hours to the Transgender Education Network of Texas. This BIPOC-led organization fights anti-LGBTQ+ laws daily, and they offer a wealth of resources on their website, including guidance on how to file discrimination complaints with the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.
Despite the wishes of those who seek to erase us, trans people like me will be part of the future of Texas—and beyond.
I long for a Texas where trans people don’t just survive, but thrive. We deserve safety here, in the Lone Star State, and anywhere else we choose to be. I spent too much time living under an identity that wasn’t mine, but I was able to change it. Everyone else deserves the same right to do so.
Why Allies Must Act: Defending Trans Rights Protects Everyone’s Freedoms
As the election dust settles, the focus shifts to practical realities. For transgender people like me, a pressing question looms: What actions will this new Trump administration take?
It’s tempting to jump to extreme conclusions—like the idea of being rounded up and placed in camps. But it likely won’t look like that. There won’t be “camps,” nor will there be overt “rounding up.” Instead, the approach will be more subtle, and that subtlety is precisely what makes it so dangerous.
The quiet nature of these changes will make them easier for cisgender people to overlook. However, their awareness is vital—not only for our survival but for their own protection, as the erosion of trans rights often signals broader attacks on freedoms that could ultimately affect everyone.
The groundwork for trans oppression is already being laid. In recent years, Republicans have pursued anti-trans legislation with alarming intensity, proposing over 1,000 laws targeting everything from medical care and bathroom usage to IDs, sports, and even how we dress. Trump has vowed to push similar policies at the federal level, and Project 2025 outlines an even more expansive agenda.
To understand what trans oppression under Trump might look like, we can look to other marginalized groups. For instance, the mass incarceration of Black men wasn’t achieved through blatant decrees like “round them up” but through systemic oppression: harsh laws with disproportionate penalties, over-policing, and economic barriers that strip away basic human needs. Trans people have already faced similar tactics, such as laws criminalizing “cross-dressing” to police our existence.
Under another Trump administration, this oppression might escalate. It could involve banning hormone replacement therapy and criminalizing those who seek it out. Policies might mandate that gender markers on IDs match sex assigned at birth, penalizing those of us who continue to live authentically with fraud or perjury charges. Involuntary commitment to mental institutions could even be a reality.
These measures, even if sporadically enforced, create an ever-present climate of fear—a psychological toll that leaves us constantly bracing for the next law, the next crackdown, the next violation of our humanity. And in this hostile environment, the silence or complacency of cisgender allies would make it all the easier for these oppressive systems to thrive.
The coming years will likely see escalating attacks on trans people, particularly the most marginalized among us—trans women of color, disabled trans people, and others who already face significant barriers. These policies will make it harder for them to access stable employment and lead precarious lives, amplifying systemic inequities.
We cannot wait for something as blatant as a “lock up all the trans people” decree. The oppression will come in quieter, more insidious forms: laws and policies that restrict our rights to healthcare, employment, and basic expression. Even if trans people comply with these laws, the result will still be a kind of prison—a life stripped of autonomy and dignity.
If you are cisgender, we need your help. Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because these attacks on trans rights will eventually pave the way for attacks on your rights. Consider abortion access: for decades, conservatives framed their arguments around “protecting life” to avoid addressing bodily autonomy directly. But the fight against gender-affirming care removes that pretense altogether. By banning medically supported, evidence-based care simply because they don’t like it, lawmakers set a dangerous precedent that could extend to other healthcare decisions.
Your body could be next.
Employment and education are also at risk. Imagine a national “Don’t Say Gay/Trans” policy that bars teachers like me—who are openly transgender—from the profession. Policies like these won’t stop at targeting trans people. Deadnaming and misgendering trans students could morph into strict gendered dress codes for everyone, eroding freedom of expression for all students. What starts as an attack on trans rights often metastasizes into broader assaults on personal liberties.
As we approach January 20th, now is the time to act:
Get involved: Connect with your local LGBTQ+ center and see how you can support their efforts.
Stay informed: Follow trans journalists and activists to keep up with the latest developments.
Advocate: Write to your representatives in both parties, showing them that you stand with trans people.
Speak out: Use your voice, wear supportive messages, and engage your cisgender friends to build awareness.
Support trans people directly: Check in with your trans friends, especially now, as they navigate a political climate fueled by over $200 million of anti-trans rhetoric during the election. Let them know you’re there for them.
This isn’t just about protecting trans people—it’s about preserving freedom and dignity for everyone. Together, we can resist these threats and build a future where everyone has the right to live authentically.
She initially won her case after her employer refused to cover her healthcare, but that decision has since been overturned.
This blog originally appeared at
An anti-trans discrimination ruling from Georgia in May has been nullified by an appeals court, with half of its judges appointed by former President Donald Trump.
The case involves a transgender deputy who was denied equal medical care after the Houston County Sheriff’s Office refused to cover her gender-affirming care through their health insurance policy. This decision follows the county’s expenditure of $1.2 million in legal fees to avoid covering the deputy’s $10,000 surgery.
Sgt. Anna Lange, represented by the Transgender Legal Defense and Education Fund (TLDEF), filed her lawsuit in 2019 after her employer refused to provide coverage for her gender-affirming care, despite her having worked for the Sheriff’s Office since 2006.
In 2022, a federal judge from the U.S. District Court for the Middle District of Georgia ruled that Sgt. Lange had been illegally discriminated against, referencing the 2020 Supreme Court case Bostock v. Clayton County, which determined that anti-LGBTQ+ discrimination falls under sex-based discrimination prohibited by Title VII.
While a three-judge panel from the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals ruled in Lange’s favor in May, the full court later ordered the case to be reheard, vacating the prior decision after Houston County appealed. A date for the new ruling has yet to be set.
In the 2022 case, Lange was awarded $60,000. This latest ruling will have significant implications for transgender individuals in Florida, Georgia, and Alabama.
Six of the 12 judges on the court were appointed by Donald Trump, making it one of the most conservative appeals courts in the country.
The panel’s decision in May stated, “Because transgender persons are the only (insurance) plan participants who qualify for gender-affirming surgery, the (county’s) plan denies health care coverage based on transgender status.”
It also concluded, “Houston County deprived Lange of a benefit or privilege of her employment by reason of her nonconforming traits, thereby unlawfully punishing her for her gender nonconformity.”
The nation’s second-most populous state’s Republican governor, Greg Abbott of Texas, on Monday signed House Bill 25, a bill that would prohibit transgender girls from competing in interscholastic athletics. The bill will become operative on January 18, 2022.
Texas becomes the tenth state since March 2020 to do so via floor vote or executive order. In addition to Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, West Virginia, South Dakota, Montana, and Idaho, the state now joins the group. In later verdicts, federal justices barred implementation in West Virginia and Idaho.
A lawsuit was launched on Tuesday against President Joe Biden’s administration over a Department of Agriculture school food program that forbids discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity by more than 20 Republican attorneys general, including Texas’ Ken Paxton.
In the lawsuit, Herbert Slatery, the attorney general of Tennessee, asserts that the federal government is trying to compel states and educational institutions to adhere to anti-discrimination standards that “misconstrue the law.”
Abbott’s order came in response to Attorney General Ken Paxton’s non-binding legal judgment that gender-affirming care amounts to child abuse. Paxton is also engaged in the political battle of his life in Tuesday’s primary election.
Paxton’s ruling cited operations for body modification that, according to medical professionals, are infrequently, if ever, carried out on kids. But he also asserted that providing care that is widely regarded as gender-affirming, such as entirely reversible puberty blockers, would amount to child cruelty. According to specialists, the gender-affirming model of care spends more time focused on social transition for children than it does on medical care.
The Governor further urged “licensed professionals” and “members of the general public” to notify state authorities if it looked that the parents of trans youngsters had received gender-affirming care. The letter was written the day after Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton issued a statement in which he claimed that certain aspects of treatment that is gender affirming are abusive to children.
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