Aubrey and her wife are preparing to leave the United States for Costa Rica in January – a decision they haven’t taken lightly, after building a life as homeowners in upstate New York.
She says months of unease about the political climate in the United States – from debates over LGBT rights to concerns about basic safety – finally tipped them into making a plan to leave.
Her story is far from unique, according to a recent survey by US analytics firm Gallup which suggests 40% of American women aged 15 to 44 would move abroad if they had the opportunity.
These figures reflect aspirations rather than intentions, but they appear to highlight a trend that Gallup says began more than a decade ago – a growing number of younger American women reassessing where they see their futures.
The rise has also created the largest gender gap in migration aspirations that Gallup has ever recorded, with only 19% of younger men saying they want to leave the US.
Although Aubrey’s decision crystallised in the last few months, under the Trump presidency, the trend has been apparent for many years – starting at the end of the Obama administration, according to Gallup.
Pressures have been building on women from the left and the right, says Nadia E Brown, professor of government and chair of the women’s and gender studies at Georgetown University.
“It’s not just partisan politics,” says Professor Brown. “Women feel caught between expectations from both sides – traditional roles promoted by conservatives, and the pressures of progressive working life. Neither path guarantees autonomy or dignity, and that leaves women considering alternatives like moving abroad.”
Economic reasons like student loans, the rising cost of healthcare and the cost of home ownership are also factors in shaping young women’s decisions to forge a life in another country, she adds.
A recent survey from the Harris Poll – a US market research firm – suggested 40% of Americans have considered moving abroad, with many citing lower living costs as their main reason. The largest demographic groups thinking of moving were Gen Z and Millennials.
‘No strong work-life balance in US’
Kaitlin, 31, who moved from the US to Portugal four years ago, says there wasn’t one big reason why she decided to move abroad but she felt compelled to ditch her day job to explore a new life somewhere else.
“I was working a 9-to-5 in Los Angeles, and every day felt exactly the same. There’s not a strong work-life balance in the US. I wanted to live somewhere with a different pace, different cultures, and learn a new language.”
She now lives in Lisbon, works remotely as a freelancer, and says the lower cost of living and strong social culture have made her feel “more like a whole person again”.
“I can’t imagine ever going back to the US”, she says.
Despite the non-political nature of decisions made by people like Kaitlin, a clear political divide emerged in 2017, with those who disapproved of the Trump presidency far more likely to want to leave, according to the Gallup data, which was based on 1,000 interviews.
The number of young women expressing an interest in leaving actually fell this year compared with Biden’s final year in office but the gender gap has now reached its widest level.
Interest in moving abroad is also rising among Americans using platforms that help plan relocations and explore new countries. Expatsi, which offers scouting trips, expert consultations, and relocation services, has reported a spike in younger women’s interest in recent years.
“Expatsi data shows a clear gender trend,” says its co-founder Jen Barnett. “Our clientele has always been two-thirds or more women, but our first big bump in traffic came after Roe v Wade was overturned.”
‘Women’s rights were being stripped away in real time’
For Alyssa, a 34-year-old mother who moved from the US to Uruguay earlier this year, the decision to leave wasn’t just about lifestyle – it was a response to political and social pressures that felt immediate and personal.
She first began seriously thinking about leaving three years ago, after the US Supreme Court overturned the Roe v Wade ruling – ending the constitutional right to abortion in the US – but didn’t make the move until early 2025.
“I have children and I don’t plan on having more, but the increasing governance of women’s bodies terrified me. I felt like women’s rights were being stripped away in real time,” she explains.
As a Latina, she felt unsafe because of rhetoric around immigration in the US, even as a US citizen. “I genuinely feared being detained in front of my kids,” she says.
Confidence in major US institutions drops
Another related issue on which a gender divide appears to have widened is the matter of Americans’ trust in institutions, including the Supreme Court.
This has also sunk to historic lows, according to data from Gallup. Just 26% of Americans say they trust the presidency, 14% trust Congress and fewer than half express confidence in the court.
But the decline has been especially precipitous among young women.
Their scores have fallen by 17 points since 2015 – the sharpest decline of any demographic. Confidence dropped during both the Trump and Biden administrations.
Some women are also weighing practical concerns like healthcare, and climate – factors that can tip the balance when considering a move abroad.
Marina plans to leave the US for Portugal next May with her boyfriend. “Healthcare not being a human right in this country is a huge part of why we’re leaving.”
“We also want to live somewhere where gun violence is unlikely,” she added, citing a decades-old issue in America. “In Portugal it’s much harder to get a gun – that alone makes life feel safer.”
For Marina and her boyfriend, the challenges at home have made the decision to leave the US more urgent – including the nightmare of his house flooding during increasingly extreme weather, another issue that has intensified in recent decades.
“We’re tired of the climate here – it’s become unbearably hot, and it feels like there’s a natural disaster every year now.”
Her concerns reflect a broader mix of economic, environmental and safety pressures drawing younger women towards Europe and elsewhere.
A global trend
Younger American women were previously less likely than those in other advanced economies to see their futures abroad, Gallup has documented, a trend that has reversed since the late 2000s and early 2010s.
But Professor Brown says this “isn’t just a US problem”.
“Women in many countries are navigating similar challenges. The US just happens to be one where these pressures are particularly visible and acute,” she says.
Access to subsidies for childcare and healthcare, which are more common in Europe, can impact an American woman’s decision to move abroad.
“People don’t realise how far behind the US is on maternal care, parental leave, and healthcare,” Alyssa says, “until they leave the country.”
Across the country, LGBTQ+ Americans, people of color, women, religious minorities, and others who feel newly vulnerable under the second Trump administration are quietly constructing “Plan B” escape strategies: securing second residencies, lining up alternate passports, moving assets offshore, scouting communities abroad, or mapping literal escape routes to sanctuary states or neighboring countries.
Some are wealthy enough to buy investment visas in Europe. Others are applying for digital nomad permits that require little more than proof of remote income. Still others are assembling go-bags, stockpiling medication, or rehearsing how they would reach the Canadian border if federal restrictions tightened.
But the phenomenon, a blend of dread, pragmatism, and resignation, is unmistakably rising. None of the people interviewed for this story wants to leave their country. All emphasized that they hope their Plan B remains unused.
They are preparing anyway, because, they say, preparation now feels like survival.
A business built on American anxiety
Eric Major, CEO of the London-based global migration firm Latitude, says his American business has undergone a transformation.
“What used to be a 90 percent, ‘I’m not moving, but I want an insurance policy,’ is now turning into, ‘No, I am moving,’” Major said. “People are saying, ‘I don’t like what I’m hearing or what I’m living or what I’m experiencing.’”
Major, whose company operates across Europe and the Americas, says the shift began in late 2023 and accelerated after Trump’s second inauguration in January, when the administration moved quickly to reinstate the transgendermilitary ban, strip LGBTQ+ recognition from federal websites, and target health care and civil rights protections.
For LGBTQ+ clients, timelines are now one of the first concerns.
The timeline: from 30 days to two years
Major stressed that processing times vary dramatically depending on the country, the type of visa, and how overwhelmed that nation is by American demand.
He says some countries operate at almost lightning speed: Costa Rica, Panama, and other smaller jurisdictions can process residency in as little as 30 to 60 days, depending on background checks and documentation. Malta, too, can process a residency application in approximately three months, making it one of the faster European programs, Major said.
Meanwhile, he noted, countries like Portugal offer popular pathways but now struggle under the sheer volume of applicants. Major said that Portugal’s processing time ranges from six months on the low end to nearly two years on the high end, describing it as a country “victim of its own success.”
Canada, from where Major is originally from, he added, has become similarly stretched; in his experience, no one should expect to receive anything there in under 18 months.
He also emphasized the importance of timing and planning in the application process. Suppose clients know they cannot move until a certain date. In that case, he says the firm essentially reverse-engineers the application, starting preparations early but holding submission to align with a client’s planned departure. Some countries require newly approved residents to arrive almost immediately after approval, he said, which means planning a move is as important as qualifying for one.
‘America is not a safe place in my mind right now’
For “Mark,” not his real name, a gay New Yorker who works as both a physician and a consultant, the ability to pursue multiple residencies is directly tied to his financial circumstances, something he is quick to acknowledge.
He describes himself as “speaking from a very affluent gay perspective,” noting that he has the freedom to work remotely, the savings to invest abroad, and the professional flexibility to relocate. “I have the ability to do such things,” he said. “For me, it was a very no-brainer decision.”
He said the speed at which he could leave mattered as much as the destination.
“When Trump was in office first, I saw the writing on the wall,” Mark told The Advocate in an interview. “I decided one needed an escape mechanism from the United States.”
Mark obtained residency in Portugal, formed a company to gain residency in Panama, and secured status in a Caribbean country. These routes required financial resources, but he stressed that even many of his patients, including those with modest means, are pursuing lower-cost options such as digital nomad visas or temporary residency permits.
Mark said that a significant portion of his own patient population is preparing similar contingency plans. “At least 40 percent of my patients, and 100 percent of my gay patients, all have other residencies now.”
He pointed to Spain’s digital nomad visa, noting that one only needs to show roughly $3,000 in monthly income to qualify. In that program, he said, people can obtain residency and health care after a few years, then become eligible for citizenship after that.
The process brought him a profound sense of security.
“America is not a safe place in my mind right now,” he said. “I’m not going to allow my rights to be taken away from me by some insane lunatic.”
For trans Americans, the calculus is existential
For transgender Americans, the stakes feel even sharper.
Robert, a transgender man in his 60s living in a blue coastal state, began planning immediately after Trump’s inauguration, when the administration reimposed the transgender military ban and targeted trans people’s access to accurate passports and federal recognition.
“I thought we were headed down an authoritarian path — maybe even fascist,” Robert said. “The probability wasn’t zero.”
He initially researched so-called golden passports in the Caribbean, but quickly realized two issues: several of the countries selling them were not LGBTQ+ friendly, and the programs often required investments of $200,000 to $300,000 without guaranteeing a safe environment.
He instead turned to residency programs in Europe and selected Malta, which he identified as one of the most LGBTQ-protective countries in the world. Robert is now deep into the process: he has submitted all documentation, paid the first government fee, and is awaiting final approval before traveling for a required biometric appointment.
But immigration paperwork is only part of his Plan B. Robert has also stockpiled testosterone, a controlled substance, in case access becomes restricted. He has consulted attorneys to secure his real estate holdings, mapped out strategies for exiting the country if his passport is invalidated, and established protocols with his financial institution so that, with a single trigger phrase, his liquid assets can be moved or protected. He said the financial professionals he spoke to did not consider him paranoid; instead, they viewed these preparations as reasonable under the circumstances.
He also acknowledged that his preparation is not something every trans person can do. “My situation is privileged and unique,” he said. “The only thing I tell other trans folks is to at least make a Plan B, even if it’s just knowing how to get to a sanctuary state or across the border.”
For Robert, the red line that would prompt immediate departure is if the government starts signaling that transgender people’s passports could be restricted or invalidated. He said that any move toward requiring trans people to carry identifying markers or any early signs of authoritarian control would also trigger his exit. “Anything akin to the initial steps taken by a fascist regime,” he said.
A new American story
Beyond the logistics and financial planning, the emotional weight of this new reality is heavy.
“People don’t think of what their choices do to people like me,” Robert said. “There’s this level of apathy.”
Mark expressed a similar warning. “Don’t be too late,” he said. “When they start taking passports away and closing borders, it’s too late.”
Major sees this shift reflected in nearly every conversation he has with American clients today. While the process begins with lifestyle questions, financial disclosures, and paperwork, he says the deeper shift is psychological. “Americans are asking: If it gets really bad, where do I go?”
Everyone interviewed emphasized the same hope: that they will never need to use their Plan B.
But preparation itself has become a form of survival.
“I feel it’s a good feeling to be prepared,” Robert said. “I hope I never have to use it. But I’m not willing to gamble my future.”
Mark echoed him, reflecting on how drastically the national mood has shifted. “People usually moved to the United States for better lives. Now people are leaving the United States for better lives.”
The grim consequences for transgender students in Texas are coming into focus three months after the state’s sweeping new Don’t Say Gay legislation went into effect in September.
Texas Gov. Greg Abbott (R) signed the so-called “Bill of Parental Rights” in June, a draconian right-wing wishlist of MAGA priorities banning discussion of LGBTQ+ identity and race in classrooms, shutting down gay-straight student alliances (GSAs) on school campuses, and explicitly prohibiting school staff from supporting trans students, alongside other restrictive measures.
The prohibitions around social transition mean kids known to their classmates and teachers by their preferred name and identity for years are now being deadnamed and forced to assume an identity they’d abandoned long ago.
Ethan Brignac, a trans student at Wylie East High School northeast of Dallas, has been known by his chosen name since seventh grade. With the new legislation in effect, the high school senior lobbied teachers to continue using it.
“In the first week of school, when I was kind of trying to convince my teachers to call me Ethan, I was like, ‘Hey, look, it’s still on my ID.’”
“Then one of my teachers this year said, ‘Okay, they’re gonna fix that soon.’”
Three weeks later, school administrators called him to the library and gave him a new ID. Ethan was now officially identified by his deadname.
He says some teachers seem to make a point of working his legal name into every interaction, he told the Texas Tribune, outing him to peers and rekindling the dread he felt in his time before Ethan.
“It was definitely a big change having my deadname kind of sprawled everywhere,” he said, “It was like, wow, okay, that wasn’t just a social media post I saw, this is real life.”
A school spokesperson confirmed the change was “to ensure full compliance with state law, including Senate Bill 12.”
In the Leander school district north of Austin, faculty may continue to call students by their preferred name, if it was done prior to SB 12’s implementation. But for new students, the use of their chosen names and pronouns is banned. Parents can request a name change, but those updates are only allowed if they’re unrelated to social transitioning, said Conner Carlow, a classroom support specialist in the district.
Carlow grappled with his own sexuality as a middle schooler and recalled how hard it was.
“I wasn’t telling my parents what was going on, so I imagine these kids aren’t either,” Carlow said. “The fact they’re willing to tell us before even the parents is a big deal, and now the fact that we have to just not accept them, I mean, it’s awful.”
The school board in Conroe, Texas, north of Houston, was among the first in Texas to bar teachers from using gender-affirming names and pronouns.
At Woodlands High School in the district, junior Cassie Hilborn had planned to come out as trans, but the onslaught of anti-LGBTQ+ legislation stripped her of her confidence, she says.
“It feels like every day I look at the news and then the headline just reads, ‘Sorry, more things you’ve lost.’”
Cassie takes refuge at the school’s Dungeons & Dragons club, where classmates and a faculty adviser call her by her chosen name. She lodges a small protest against SB 12 by hiding the deadname on her school ID under blue masking tape.
But Cassie remains discouraged, she said.
“Now, even teachers that might have respected my identity have been told that they unequivocally are not allowed to do so,” Cassie said.
The Colts Neck Township Schools Board of Education on Nov. 19 unanimously passed a “Parental Bill of Rights,” which among other things allows parents to obtain information surrounding their child’s gender identity and allows them to opt their child out of lessons they find morally objectionable.
The adoption of the policy for the preschool through eighth-grade school district was seen as a victory for parents who believe they should have a say in what their child is learning, but drew criticism from LGBTQ advocates who believe the policy is discriminatory and will hurt students who are sexual or gender minorities.
Lucas Manrique, a mental health professional who spoke during the public comment portion of the meeting before the vote took place, said the BOE’s policy would “operate in direct opposition” to New Jersey Department of Education Policy 5756, which provides guidance to schools on how to treat transgender and gender nonconforming students.
“It is my ethical responsibility as a therapist to provide testimony where I see the potential for harm,” said Manrique, who identified himself as a licensed associate counselor and a nationally certified counselor from Middlesex County.
“5756 was created to protect young people by preventing forced outing. Outing students without their consent is psychologically damaging, is discrimination, and is illegal in New Jersey. I implore you to recognize that as a body, it is your responsibility to protect every student and reinforce the rights protected by law,” he said.
However, Val Mendez of Marlboro said she strongly supports the policy. She said that she cares deeply about transparency and that schools should not be a replacement for parents.
“What I appreciate most about this … is that it’s not about politics; it’s about restoring trust, strengthening communication, and ensuring that parents and schools work together,” said Mendez, who emphasized she was speaking as a parent and not as a member of any board to which she belongs.
The policy contains eight articles and outlines parents’ and legal guardians’ rights in the school district. The parts of the policy that sparked the most controversy deal with sexuality and gender, including resources and curricula containing LGBTQ content.
Article 3.3 of the policy addresses the issue of gender identity. It says that the BOE affirms the rights of a child’s parents or legal guardians to ask staff members and receive from them “truthful and to the extent known information” about their child, including changes to their child’s gender identity, pronouns, and name. A child’s legal caretakers, according to the policy, are also entitled to know the sports teams and activities “organized by sex” in which their child is participating and what “sex-specific” facility, such as a bathroom or locker room, their child is using.
Article 4.1 of the policy entitles parents or legal guardians to excuse their child from any “instructions in health, family life education or sex education” that conflict with their “conscience, or sincerely held moral or religious beliefs.”
Article 4.2 of the policy allows a child’s legal caretakers to prevent their child from exposure to a resource or curriculum content that they believe “substantially interferes” with their child’s religious development.
And Article 4.3 allows parents or legal guardians to prevent their child from participating in surveys, questionnaires, or research projects involving personal family information, beliefs, sexual behavior, mental health, or other “sensitive areas.”
Other school districts in the state have written similar policies that have been met with legal challenges. New Jersey Attorney General Matthew J. Platkin filed lawsuits alleging the policies violate the state’s Law Against Discrimination against at least three school districts. The attorney general’s office declined to comment on the matter in Colts Neck. A spokesperson for the LGBTQ civil rights organization Garden State Equality said the organization is “carefully considering any and all possibilities.” A spokesperson for the American Civil Liberties Union of New Jersey said the organization is looking into the policy.
Shawn Hyland, director of advocacy at the New Jersey Family Policy Center, which describes itself on its website as a “Christ-centered organization” and has offices in Trenton and Warren, thanked the board for considering what he called a “common-sense policy.”
“Thank you for recognizing that the parents in Colts Neck genuinely want what’s best for their children and that school policies should reflect that reality. Parents are not only taxpayers; they’re the primary stakeholder in public education. They nurture, protect, and guide their children every day, and they deserve transparency. Let me be clear: Parents are not the problem,” he said.
However, that is not always the case, according to Manrique, who said The Trevor Project, a national nonprofit organization focused on suicide prevention and crisis intervention for LGBTQ youth, found that in 2024, 40 percent of unhoused LGBTQ youth reported that they were kicked out of their parents’ home or were abandoned because of their LGBTQ identity. Also, 35 percent of homeless youth reported attempting suicide, Manrique said.
Still, Hyland said it is “deeply offensive” to suggest moms and dads should have no right to know what curriculum is being taught, to access student records, to be notified of health-related decisions, and to opt out of “intrusive surveys.”
“It is both unethical and dangerous to advocate for that extreme position, yet sadly some do.” Hyland said, adding that the BOE’s policy does not create rights; it simply recognizes the rights already protected under existing federal law. He added that “keeping secrets from parents” violates the federal Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act and the Protection of Pupil Rights Amendment.
Hyland said 77 percent of New Jersey adults believe parents should be fully informed about what’s happening in school. “This is not a fringe position; it’s a mainstream conviction,” he said.
However, Dr. Brian Kaufman, a psychologist with expertise in adolescent development and human sexuality from Asbury Park, told the board that outing students before they are prepared “could lead to the indelible stain of blood on your hands. You can always choose to introduce additional conversations and lessons, but you cannot undo the physical and emotional trauma that results from ignorance.”
Kaufman directs a nonprofit organization called “Rainbow Quest.” Its mission, stated on its website, is to distribute “affirming and educational resources to promote social and intercultural skills.” The organization offers training workshops for educators and therapists and “community-building” events that are intended to “reduce bullying, discrimination, and intolerance and help build and maintain healthy, safe communities, homes, schools, and workplaces.”
He said the organization also aims to educate about “historical and cross-cultural heroes who advanced humankind, LGBTQ role models.
“We rarely learn about these heroes’ sexual orientation or gender identities in school, but every election cycle, we can’t avoid being bombarded with angry, ignorant rhetoric that portrays LGBTQ+ community members as inferior, deviant, and less deserving of respect and love than their gender-conforming peers.”
The exclusion of positive content about LGBTQ people and their contributions to society “leaves the public with a one-sided, negative perception of our gender-diverse youth,” Kaufman said, adding that much more is known now about human sexuality and gender than in the past.
Larissa Garcia, community organizer for GSE, who also identified herself as a Middlesex County resident, read a statement to the board from GSE Senior Director of Advocacy and Organizing Lauren Albrecht.
In it, Albrecht criticized the BOE and its policy committee chairman, Robert Scales, saying she is “keenly aware” of the board’s “disingenuously named ‘Parental Bill of Rights.’” Albrecht said Scales previously told her when she contacted the district months ago about the policy to register a complaint about it that it was dishonest of her to do so without reading it.
“I knew what it would say due to my professional experience and knowledge, and that coupled with the fact that I field regularly occurring calls from families in your district who are concerned by your board’s actions, which is an unusual occurrence for community members from a specific school district to regularly reach out to us about your board’s words, your board’s votes, and what your board members post on social media, about the tone and the climate that has been created for LGBTQ students in your schools by these words and actions,” Albrecht’s statement said.
She continued by saying she has since seen the policy and said it was “verbatim” the same as other policies introduced around the country by “right-wing extremists.”
Albrecht said the policy begs the question: “‘What is the end game here?’ What is the message that Colts Neck is trying to send to LGBTQ students and the school staff who serve them? Parents have always had rights. That has not changed nor been altered. And LGBTQ students have the right to be safe and supported at school so that they can focus on learning and just being kids. Just because you can introduce a policy like this, and you can, because the law still stands, absolutely does not mean that you should.”
Before the vote was taken, BOE President Angelique Volpe read a statement that said the policy’s adoption makes the board’s position “unmistakably clear” that the rights of parents will stay at the forefront of every decision the board makes.
“Parents are the primary authority in their children’s education, and this district will never sideline that role,” Volpe said. “Every child in Colts Neck will be protected, respected, and treated equally without exception, and we will not permit any sexual content, ideology, or identity to take priority over the rights of our families or the educational mission of our schools. No group’s sexuality will override the values or rights of others. Period.
“This board stands firm, united and unwavering. Our commitment to academic excellence, child safety, and parental authority is absolute, and we will defend these principles without hesitation.”
A far-right party in New Zealand that is hostile to trans rights preempted a government announcement on Wednesday that the country will indefinitely ban the use of puberty blockers by trans youth.
The New Zealand First party, a minority member of Parliament’s coalition government, made the announcement three hours ahead of the government’s own health ministry, declaring a victory in its “war on woke,” Erin in the Morning reports.
“Today, sanity won another battle in the war on woke,” the surprise announcement read. “After years of dangerous ideological experimentation pushed by radical activists and rubber-stamped by weak politicians, the New Zealand Government has officially banned puberty blockers for children. This is what happens when you back a party that actually delivers.”
“While other parties can’t even define what a woman is, we’ve stood up for families, for truth, and for children.”
The preemptive declaration was one more indication of the politicization of healthcare for trans youth in New Zealand and around the world, and a clue to the party’s intimate involvement in crafting the government’s policy. The change adds New Zealand to a growing list of countries and U.S. states banning gender-affirming care for trans youth.
The government’s own announcement described the decision as “a precautionary approach” to gender-affirming care for transgender youth.
There is a lack of “high-quality evidence that demonstrates the benefits or risks” of puberty-blocking drugs for trans youth, Health Minister Simeon Brown said.
113 patients in New Zealand were using puberty blockers in 2023, according to the health ministry.
While the policy announcement didn’t mention the widely criticized Cass Report, the controversial document claiming a lack of evidence supporting gender-affirming care for young people that was released in the UK last year, it’s the basis of the UK’s own indefinite ban on puberty blockers, which New Zealand is following.
Both countries say they’ll wait for the results of a UK government-sponsored clinical trial on the efficacy of puberty blockers for trans youth before making a final determination on their use. The prohibition won’t affect trans kids currently taking the drugs.
“By pinning the resumption of prescribing to a UK trial result expected in 2031, the Government has effectively sacrificed a generation of trans youth,” said New Zealand civil rights organization Rights Aotearoa. “They are demanding a level of evidence for trans healthcare that they do not demand for hundreds of other treatments routinely used in pediatrics.”
Both bans make an exception for children experiencing early-onset puberty and other conditions, raising equal protection questions.
“This will undoubtedly end up in court – very quickly as the subject of a Judicial Review,” Rights Aotearoa’s Paul Thistoll posted after news of the decision. He called it a “blatant violation” of New Zealand’s Human Rights Act.
Transgender youth in Pennsylvania and their families are celebrating a significant legal victory. A federal court in Philadelphia has rebuffed the Department of Justice’s sweeping attempt to obtain highly personal medical records from the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia about children receiving gender-affirming care.
On Friday, federal district Judge Mark A. Kearney in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania issued an order quashing DOJ subpoena demands for names, dates of birth, Social Security numbers, home addresses, and clinical notes covering minors treated since January 2020. The court found the government “lacks statutory authority for a rambling exploration of the Hospital’s files to learn the names and medical treatment of children.”
Families in Pennsylvania had filed separate motions to quash subpoenas issued by the Trump administration in July that alleged fraud in gender-affirming care. As The Advocatereported, the subpoenas demanded exhaustive data on minors, including “intake forms, consent paperwork, and parental authorizations for puberty blockers and hormone therapy.”
Kearney’s decision reaffirms that the records in question concern lawful medical treatment governed under Pennsylvania law, and that children’s and families’ constitutional privacy interests “far outweigh” the government’s asserted investigative needs. The ruling also criticizes the DOJ’s shifting justifications, noting that at one point the government “replaced” and reminding that “false statements may be subject to a perjury investigation.”
The ruling arrives amid a broader national crackdown on gender-affirming care by the Trump administration, which in July announced more than 20 subpoenas to clinics and hospitals across multiple states. The American Medical Association and other major professional organizations had already pushed back, affirming such treatments as evidence-based and lifesaving.
For advocates and legal counsel representing the children, the decision is a vindication of long-held concerns about governmental overreach. “This is a critical win for everyone who believes healthcare decisions should be made in doctors’ offices, not the White House,” Mimi McKenzie of the Public Interest Law Center said in a press release. Attorney Jill Steinberg of the law firm Ballard Spahr added that the decision signals to transgender youth and their families that they “do not have to fight these battles alone.”
A Texas A&M committee agreed that the university was wrong to fire a professor earlier this year after a controversy over a classroom video that showed a student objecting to a children’s literature lesson about gender identity.
The internal committee ruled that the university didn’t follow proper procedures and didn’t prove there was good cause to fire Melissa McCoul, who was a senior lecturer in the English department with over a decade of teaching experience. Republican lawmakers, including Gov. Greg Abbott, had called for her termination after seeing the video.
The committee unanimously voted earlier this week that “the summary dismissal of Dr. McCoul was not justified.”
The university said in a statement that interim President Tommy Williams has received the committee’s nonbinding recommendation and will make a decision in the coming days or weeks after reviewing it.
McCoul’s lawyer, Amanda Reichek, said this dispute seems destined to wind up in court because the university appears to plan to continue fighting and the interim president is facing the same political pressure.
“Dr. McCoul asserts that the flimsy reasons proffered by A&M for her termination are a pretext for the University’s true motivation: capitulation to Governor Abbott’s demands,” Reichek said in a statement.
The video showing a student questioning whether the class discussion was legal under President Trump’s executive order on gender roiled the campus and led to sharp criticism of university president Mark Welsh, who later resigned, but he didn’t offer a reason and never mentioned the video in his resignation announcement.
The opening of the video posted by state Rep. Brian Harrison showed a slide titled “Gender Unicorn” that highlighted different gender identities and expressions.
Students in the class told the Texas Tribune that they were discussing a book called “Jude Saves the World” about a middle schooler who is coming out as nonbinary. That was just one of several books included in the course that highlights LGBTQ+ issues.
After a brief back-and-forth discussion about the legality of teaching those lessons, McCoul asked the student to leave the class. Harrison posted other recordings of the student’s meeting with Welsh that show the university president defending McCoul’s teaching.
The Tribune reported that McCoul had taught the same course at A&M at least 12 times since 2018. University officials decided to end this particular summer class early after the confrontation, but McCoul returned to teach in the fall until after the videos were published online.
Welsh had said when McCoul was fired that he learned she had continued teaching content in a children’s literature course “that did not align with any reasonable expectation of standard curriculum for the course.” He also said that the course content was not matching its catalog descriptions. But her lawyer disputed that, and said McCoul was never instructed to change her course content in any way, shape or form.
Earlier this month, the Texas A&M Regents decided that professors now need to receive approval from the school president to discuss some race and gender topics.
The new policy states that no academic course “will advocate race or gender ideology, or topics related to sexual orientation or gender identity” unless approved in advance by a campus president.
Various universities and their presidents around the country, including Harvard and Columbia have come under scrutiny from conservative critics and President Donald Trump administration over diversity, equity and inclusion practices and their responses to campus protests.
Ethan Brignac, a transgender student at Wylie East High School, has been “Ethan” since seventh grade — to his friends, family and teachers. When he reached high school, his dad further validated his chosen name by requesting “Ethan” be used in school records, including in his email, class rosters and ID, which his teachers honored until this fall.
Three weeks after Brignac started his senior year, Wylie East administrators called him to the library and gave him a new ID. On it, in white capital letters, was a name he hadn’t been called in five years.
“In the first week of school, when I was kind of trying to convince my teachers to call me Ethan, I was like, ‘Hey, look, it’s still on my ID,’” said Brignac, who did not want The Texas Tribune to publish his birth name because it causes him discomfort. “Then one of my teachers this year said, ‘Okay, they’re gonna fix that soon.’”
Now, he said, some teachers seem to wedge his legal name into every interaction, outing him to peers and resurrecting the dread he felt before school records reflected his chosen name.
“It was definitely a big change having my deadname kind of sprawled everywhere,” Brignac said, referring to a derogatory practice of calling a trans person by their birth name. “It was like, wow, okay, that wasn’t just a social media post I saw, this is real life.”
A Wylie spokesperson said the move was “to ensure full compliance with state law, including Senate Bill 12.”
A sweeping piece of legislation that went into effect Sept. 1, SB 12 bars public school employees from socially transitioning a student, which it defines as helping to change a student’s sex assigned at birth by using a different name, pronoun or other practice that denies the birth sex. Dubbed the “Parents’ Bill of Rights,” the law allows guardians to report school-supported social transitioning to the school board, among other powers.
The law also prohibits K-12 faculty from referencing LGBTQ+ identities in class instruction and casual conversations, and it bans school-sanctioned clubs that center sexual orientation or gender identity.
Several transgender students at Texas schools that enforce birth names told the Tribune the new policies have transformed school from a place of support to one that rejects who they are. Considered a derogatory practice in the LGBTQ+ community, dead-naming undermines the wishes of trans people and in some cases, forcibly reveals their trans identity, which can cause or worsen mental health problems among these children, studies have found.
Some parents of trans Texas students say they are frustrated because the law appears to ignore their rights for those of other guardians. A few of these parents joined advocacy and teacher groups to file a lawsuit against SB 12 in August, seeking to pause districts from enforcing the law while the case proceeds.
Parents who support SB 12 say the law boosts their role in their children’s education. Many of them want to erase LGBTQ+ topics from K-12 schools, saying they prompt children to question their identities or that schools force progressive views onto their kids.
“We live in an insane world where a school board has to remind teachers that they cannot tell children, you know, suggest to kids they might be homosexual or they might be actually a girl if they’re a biological male,” said Jeffrey Keech, whose children go to Wylie schools. “It’s unbelievable to me that this even is an issue.”
The Tribune contacted two dozen districts across the state, including districts in the Austin, Houston and San Antonio areas, and spoke with a dozen teachers, parents and transgender students about how schools are implementing SB 12, finding that administrators are taking varied approaches. This is because the law leaves the Texas Education Agency and school districts to decide how to implement it, said Rachel Moran, a law professor at Texas A&M University who directs the education law program.
Some Texas school districts and boards, like Wylie, have adopted policies to ban teachers from aiding in social transitioning, but many have not yet — and are still allowing teachers to honor students’ preferred names and pronouns.
TEA would not respond to questions about how school districts are implementing SB 12, how many districts have complied with the law or deadlines for doing so.
Moran said schools might adopt hard-line policies to shield themselves from retribution.
“This is true with any broad mandate — some are going to be overcomplying,” she said. “It has a real chilling effect. They’re afraid to get anywhere close to a perceived line.”
Teachers told the Tribune the law leaves them anxious and confused because they are unsure when they can use nicknames or how they should respond to parents who request their children’s preferred names and pronouns be used. They lament that they won’t be able to support students who come out as queer. School district officials also worry how the policies will interfere with federal and district rules and daily affairs.
Now, Texas public school students sit in the crosshairs of debates over free speech, race, religion and gender and sexuality in school.
SB 12 is part of a slate of laws that increase oversight of K-12 schools, including new rules that mandate the Ten Commandments in classrooms and clear the way for book bans. In federal and state governments and now school board meetings, disagreements have escalated from “I don’t think that you have the right idea,” to “I don’t think you’re the right kind of person,” Moran said.
Once a place to hear diverse perspectives, she worries schools will leave children unable to tolerate different views.
“The stakes are not just whether I win or lose this particular culture war,” Moran said. “It’s whether I preserve a tradition that has been so formative of our democracy.”
School policies vary
In addition to the ban on social transitioning, SB 12 prohibits hiring, training, programs and activities centered on race, ethnicity, gender identity and sexual orientation — referenced in the law as diversity, equity and inclusion, or DEI, initiatives.
It also requires schools to tell parents their rights, such as allowing them access to school records and course content, and requiring that they give permission for their child to receive health care, hear lessons about sexuality and join clubs.
Among parts of the bill that confuse teachers and administrators is how to respond when parents ask that schools use their child’s preferred name and pronouns or what to call students who have already transitioned.
More than two months after the deadline to comply with SB 12, districts are implementing the bill differently.
Conner Carlow, a former registrar who now works as a classroom support specialist in the Leander school district, said faculty can continue to call students by their preferred name if that was done prior to SB 12 going into effect. However, faculty cannot use new names or new pronouns moving forward, and administrators must approve fresh changes on a case-by-case basis through a form parents submit. These updates are only allowed if they appear unrelated to social transitioning, he said.
The name change form is the only written directive Carlow has gotten regarding SB 12. Leander spokesperson Crestina Hardie would not say how the school district is handling name changes because the board has no policy about it. Hardie said the school district is waiting to enact new rules while it reviews the law and gets clarification from TEA and the district’s legal counsel.
“SB 12 deeply impacts personal and highly complex areas of school life, and the biggest challenge for districts statewide is the lack of clarity and consistency in how these laws intersect with existing Board policy, federal protections and day-to-day school operations,” Hardie said.
The Cypress-Fairbanks and Conroe school districts adopted policies that ban DEI practices and prohibit social transitioning or providing information about it.
Argyle and Academy school districts have posted parental rights resolutions, but nothing on social transitioning.
Deer Park linked SB 12 on its website, but it is unclear how the district will implement the law, including gender-affirming names and pronouns.
Wylie distributed a fact sheet advising employees to use the names and pronouns in school records and barring them from discussing race, color, ethnicity, gender identity and sexual orientation.
Although officials disagreed with parts of the law, Houston-based DRAW Academy rolled out the new rules. The 98% Hispanic charter district issued parental notices and consent forms, banned DEI and limited instruction about sexual orientation and gender identity, according to superintendent and CEO Patricia Beistegui.
“DRAW Academy stands for Diversity, Roots, and Wings, founded under the core belief that diversity and inclusivity is a strength in our democracy,” Beistegui said in an email. She said SB 12 is designed to make positive changes but actually revokes protections.
SB 12 and the way schools are implementing it forces teachers to blindly try to follow the law, said Charlotte Wilson, a Garland ISD special education teacher.
“It’s not clear to teachers what we can say or even do,” Wilson said, referencing instruction about race and LGBT topics. “Teachers are afraid because we don’t want to lose our certifications.”
Wilson wants a say in her children’s learning, but she thinks the law might lead teachers to skip lessons that touch on prohibited themes, undermining students’ quality of education.
“We already highlight different cultural historical events throughout the year, like MLK Day, Hispanic Heritage Month, women’s history,” Wilson said. “If we approach Pride Month the same way, as part of America’s inclusion, and communicate about what’s being taught, that shouldn’t violate anyone’s rights.”
Carlow said Leander’s bar on LGBTQ+ topics makes it hard to support his students. He remembers grappling with his sexuality as a middle schooler and how hard that was.
“I wasn’t telling my parents what was going on, so I imagine these kids aren’t either,” Carlow said. “The fact they’re willing to tell us before even the parents is a big deal, and now the fact that we have to just not accept them, I mean, it’s awful.”
“Called something I’m not”
The varied approaches to SB 12 means transgender students across Texas are experiencing different levels of alienation.
Pride flags fly and teachers use gender-affirming pronouns at Alief Early College High School, said Marshall Romero, a transgender third-year. The only change he noticed was a permission slip to join the speech and debate club.
An Alief spokesperson said the district also sent parents an opt-in and opt-out form for school health services.
Romero said the school remains largely supportive of LGTBQ+ students.
“I never had to worry about the teacher or any instructor telling me, like, ‘Hey, I can’t call you that, or I’m not going to call you that,’” Romero said. “Being able to be called by a name that reflects who I am, being called by certain pronouns, just really gives me a quality of life that I feel like I can hold on and is worth living.”
Cassie Hilborn, a Woodlands High School junior, yearns to be called her gender-affirming name at school. One of Hilborn’s earliest memories is looking in the mirror and wishing she was a girl. During the pandemic, she watched a YouTube video explaining what it meant to be transgender and finally understood why she felt misaligned with her body.
But the past year’s onslaught of transgender-focused federal and state policies stripped her confidence and dashed her plan to wear feminine clothes and ask her teachers to use her chosen name.
“It feels like every day I look at the news and then the headline just reads, ‘Sorry, more things you’ve lost,’” Hilborn said.
The Conroe school board, which governs Woodlands High School, was among the first in Texas to bar teachers from using gender-affirming names and pronouns.
At the school Dungeons & Dragons club, Hilborn’s peers and faculty adviser call her “Cassie,” but everyone else uses the legal name on her ID, which she hides under blue masking tape. She wants her classmates and teachers to know she’s transgender, but laws like SB 12 have discouraged her from coming out.
“Now, even teachers that might have respected my identity have been told that they unequivocally are not allowed to do so,” Hilborn said.
Once school records reflected Brignac’s preferred name, his grades climbed. He became president of the National Art Honor Society and founded an art mentorship program. He raised his hand so often that one teacher joked about it.
His stepmom Shannon Keene worries that being misgendered at school will thrust him back into isolation, like she saw before he entered high school.
This year’s reversal “made him feel rejected as a human being,” she said.
Having socially transitioned in seventh grade when he cut his hair and asked to go by Ethan, Brignac’s peers have been confused to hear his feminine name now used.
He’s reminded every day that his state and school deny his identity. “It’s rough being called something I’m not,” said Brignac, who now avoids talking in class.
Queer young people have disproportionate rates of depression and mental illness. But a study of 129 transgender and gender nonconforming students found that having their identities affirmed decreases symptoms of severe depression. Being called preferred names and pronouns is correlated with a drop in suicidal thoughts by 29% and suicidal behavior by 56%, according to the study published in the Journal of Adolescent Health in 2018.
Refusing to use preferred names tells transgender and nonbinary students they’re unworthy of respect, said Johnathan Gooch of Equality Texas, a nonprofit that advocates for LGBTQ equality.
“It’s as if someone else picked a nickname for you that you didn’t want, a malicious nickname, that they repeatedly use despite the fact they know what you prefer to be called,” Gooch said.
Parental rights for all?
Some parents who support expelling discussions about queer identities from schools say SB 12 protects children from viewpoints that might spur them to question who they are.
Around three years ago, after Kevin Brooks’ then-middle school daughter returned from school in the Wylie district and said her friend used nonbinary pronouns, he responded: “Sweetheart, don’t buy into that foolishness.”
The army veteran thinks children are too young to learn about LGBTQ+ identities and that it confuses them to hear that gender and sexuality are spectrums, like some schools have taught.
“Why are you teaching these kids that are as young as 5 and 6 years old all this stuff that they don’t need to deal with?” Brooks said. “I told my son the other day, I wish you’d stay innocent till you’re 35 years old, because the stuff that’s going on in the world right now absolutely just, it not only mortifies me, it terrifies me. It just really pisses me off.”
Brooks hasn’t heard of teachers at Wylie discussing LGBTQ+ identities, but he’s terrified to imagine them pledging allegiance to a rainbow flag, which happened in a California classroom in 2021.
In May, Don Zimmerman participated in a protest against a transgender teacher at Cedar Ridge High School in the Round Rock district, where he lives and previously ran for the school board.
Students and at least one faculty member stood across the street with posters saying, “Y’all means all.” To Zimmerman, the faculty member’s presence is proof of schools “coaching children and encouraging them to embrace and publicly protest in favor of this transgender extremism.”
“The school is so hell bent on this agenda of promoting transgenderism and the LGBT lifestyle, …and the parents feel so powerless at stopping the public schools agenda that they go to the Legislature and get these laws passed,” said Zimmerman, who sent his third grader to private school to shield him from LGBTQ+-themed lessons.
Parents of transgender students say new policies complying with the so-called “parents’ bill of rights” are a slap in their face. Keene, Brignac’s stepmom, said policies against using gender-affirming names and pronouns pander to conservative views and hurt gender-queer children, who are 3.3% of youths ages 13-17 in the U.S.
Brignac’s biological mom told the Tribune she is now seeking to change her son’s legal name so he hears Ethan when he graduates.
“I fail to see the correlation between a parent asking that their child be called by their preferred name and pronouns and providing direct instruction on gender identity,” Keene said. “It’s about control, not about rights. And it’s also just blatant disregard for a person’s sense of self. And to do that to kids is unconscionable.”
A Dutch court has upheld the decision to reject an American trans woman’s application for asylum after the 28-year-old challenged the decision earlier this year.
Veronica Clifford-Carlos, a visual artist from California, applied for asylum in the Netherlands in the wake of the president’s continued targeting of trans rights and villainization of the trans community.
With the support of Dutch advocacy group LGBT Asylum Support – which is working with about 20 other trans Americans on asylum claims as well – Clifford-Carlos said the anti-trans administration has made her feel unsafe remaining in the United States.
The court, however, disagreed that Clifford-Carlos personally faces a legitimate risk of persecution, Reuters reported. The judge also said she did not prove she systemically lacks protection or access to essential services.
The court sent her case back to immigration authorities to review again due to a procedural error the first time around.
A statement from LGBT Asylum Support in August explained that the Netherlands’ Immigration and Naturalisation Service (IND) “generally states that discrimination by authorities and fellow citizens can be considered an act of persecution if it is so severe that victims can no longer function socially and societally” but that it “maintains that there are no grounds for exceptional treatment of transgender and queer refugees from the U.S.”
Clifford-Carlos was the first trans American to legally challenge an asylum rejection in the Netherlands. In September, she toldReuters how bad it had become in the States for her since the new administration took office.
“I have people screaming f**got at me in the street… I have people threatening my life, threatening to assault me, threatening to follow me home and kill my family.”
She spoke to The World in September from a Dutch refugee camp, where she explained, “It feels like the U.S. doesn’t see me as human. I am not seen as a woman in the eyes of the government, and because of my transition, I am technically not a man either.”
She said the thought of returning to the U.S. gives her “more dread than I have ever experienced in my entire life.”
The Netherlands has long been considered a refuge for LGBTQ+ acceptance. In 1981, it was the first country in the world to grant refugee status to someone due to their sexual orientation, and in 2001, it became the first country to grant marriage equality.
But Marlou Schrover, an economic and social history professor in the country, told The World that reality has not lived up to the reputation. She said it is extremely rare for someone to be given refugee status based solely on LGBTQ+ identity, and that one must not only prove they have experienced physical violence, but that the police refused to help when it was reported.
Schrover explained that Dutch immigration authorities still view the United States as mostly safe for trans people because there are many other states they can move to if they don’t feel safe in their own.
The administration’s anti-trans policies may also not be enough, she said. “Exclusion from the military or exclusion from sports may be unpleasant and horrible, but it’s not seen as persecution in the eyes of Dutch immigration officials.”
She added that granting asylum to trans people from the U.S. is a risky decision because it makes a big statement about the U.S. and could affect relations between the two countries.
Arlington Mayor Jim Ross stood under the June sun and delivered an impassioned speech in front of a crowd awash in rainbows and glitter.
“You know Martin Luther King taught us way back in the ‘60s, that there’s only one thing strong enough to overcome hate,” the North Texas mayor said.
“Love! Love!” the crowd gathered at the city’s annual Pride celebration shouted, answering his call.
His faith, he continued, instructed him to love his neighbor regardless of their differences.
“So I wanted to come here and say thank you for loving us,” he said. “And I love you!”
Five months later, Ross faced a similar crowd at City Hall on Oct. 14. There was no love in the room.
The Dallas-area suburb was — in an effort to comply with new presidential executive orders — considering eliminating the city’s protections for LGBTQ+ people that prohibit employers and any business providing accommodation from discriminating against them.
More than $60 million in federal funds for parks, roads and public safety were at stake, city leaders said.
“It’s a horrible balancing attempt,” Ross said in a recent interview with The Texas Tribune, referring to protecting the city’s budget and its residents.
Other Texas cities, including Dallas and Fort Worth, have revised city policies and ended programs that comply with Trump’s executive orders that end diversity and inclusion efforts. Arlington is believed to be the first city to consider ending explicit protections for LGBTQ+ residents.
The City Council tabled its vote and is expected to revisit the issue Monday night. The impending vote is the result of a pressure campaign waged by conservative activists, state Republican lawmakers and the White House to roll back protections for LGBTQ+ people they say are unfair and harm women and children.
LGBTQ+ advocates, meanwhile, argue that such revisions push residents further away from public life. And these decisions erode the recognition and acceptance this community worked for decades to secure.
Texas — like many states — has a long history of criminalizing certain acts by LGBTQ+ people. While the U.S. Supreme Court has overturned sodomy laws and legalized same-sex marriage, Texas state lawmakers and Gov. Greg Abbott have since 2023 sought to undo those victories by passing a suite of laws that put new limits on how LGBTQ+ people live their lives and express their identities in public.
Meanwhile, at the federal level, President Donald Trump has, since returning to office in January, instructed government agencies to remove words and phrases associated with diversity, race and transgender people — exerting the full strength of the federal government across the U.S. to achieve its agenda.
It’s those executive orders that triggered the Arlington City Council to review its policies, which LGBTQ+ advocates fought to put in place to provide protections that don’t exist at the state and federal levels.
Brad Pritchett, interim CEO of Equality Texas, one of the state’s oldest advocacy groups, said the policies at the city level are one of this community’s few available safeguard.
“It has fallen on local municipalities to find a way to protect the folks that live in their communities,” he said. “And I think when we see these types of non-discrimination laws passed at the local level, what that’s really doing is sending a message to the residents of these cities that who you are should not impact whether or not you have a job, a roof over your head, or can access basic services.”
Many of the recent efforts to curtail the LGBTQ+ community have been largely targeted toward transgender people. However, Pritchett said the Arlington debate shows more is on the line for all LGBTQ+ people.
“When they shift their gaze to another group of people that they don’t like,” he said, “they’ve proven that they can weaponize government to harm anyone they want.”
Conservative leaders say they aim to reset an imbalance pushed by former Democratic presidential administrations and to protect women. Passing these laws and executive orders, conservatives argue, is a necessary step toward acknowledging the differences between the two genders.
“I think what’s been missing a lot of times from the opposition is the recognition of the rights of women and the vulnerability that women have in these private spaces,” said Mary Elizabeth Castle, director of government relations at Texas Values, a statewide nonprofit that advocates to end abortion, expand religious liberties, and other conservative causes. “It’s very important to have that in law because the dignity of the two sexes is not recognized. A lot of rights and modesty that belong to women are diminished.”
“I promised to obey the law”
Ross, the Arlington mayor, first learned the city might have to revisit its anti-discrimination policies when the city’s lawyer told him the municipality lost out on a $50,000 federal grant because a certain policy used the word “inclusive.”
Ignoring Trump’s orders could come at too great an economic loss for the city. And his job is to obey the law, he said.
“I took an oath, and I promised to obey the law,” Ross said. “I didn’t say I’ll follow the law unless I disagree with it, so I’m torn. I don’t want to do things that are harmful to any part of our community or that paint the perception that we don’t love every single person here.”
To be sure, executive orders are not laws. They serve as marching orders for agencies across state and local governments, said Cathryn Oakley, senior director of legal policy at the Human Rights Campaign, a nationwide LGBTQ+ advocacy group.
The manner in which the Trump administration has issued its orders is meant to intimidate and bully, Oakley said.
“It’s really frustrating if you’re a person who cares about the rule of law,” Oakley said. “It is not clear how folks are supposed to implement these things, and it sets up this culture of fear and intimidation because there’s no safe harbor. Either the president will come after you, or the governor will come after you.”
Presidents of both political parties have used executive orders increasingly to drive policy outcomes. For example, President Joe Biden used executive orders to push a climate-friendly agenda and diversity efforts in the wake of the 2020 Black Lives Matter movement.
Sherry Sylvester, a senior fellow at the conservative Texas Public Policy Foundation, said rolling back Biden-era DEI efforts was a return to the status quo — and fundamentally American.
“When you remove Diversity, Equity and Inclusion policies from agencies, universities and public schools, all you’re saying is all decisions must be made on merit,” Sylvester said. “When you interview people for a job, you’ve hired a person who is most qualified for the job. You get no points if you’re African American, no points if you’re female, no points if you have a gender identity based on your sexual preference.”
Executive orders are meant to spur local governments to act quickly and comply to win much-needed capital to keep their cities operating. Conservatives supporting Trump’s efforts say the tactic began with former President Barack Obama.
In 2011, Obama issued a directive intended to crack down on sexual violence in public schools and universities. In 2016, the U.S. Department of Education updated those rules and said that schools receiving federal funding had to respect a transgender student’s gender identity, which Castle said sparked a movement to oppose such acknowledgements, including in Texas.
In 2017, the Texas Legislature attempted to pass a bill restricting transgender people’s access to restrooms. It died in the legislative process. With Trump back in office this year, the movement to regulate transgender people’s actions in public gained momentum and lawmakers passed a bill restricting the restrooms transgender people can use in government buildings and schools. Castle insisted that such a bill would promote safety in restrooms.
“No one is being denied going to the restroom,” Castle said. “They just have to go to the restroom based on their biological gender.”
The result of Trump’s orders naming transgender people undermines decades of work by the LGBTQ+, the scientific and medical community to participate in public life, said Elana Redfield, federal policy director for UCLA’s School of Law. And they undermine years of scientific research that helped governments and communities understand transgender people’s place in society.
“We can’t function in society without bathrooms,” Redfield said. “It’s very difficult to have a job, take public transportation, travel long distances, go shopping, or do anything without access to bathrooms. These kinds of laws really do have the potential to deeply, deeply exclude transgender people from all aspects of society.”
A renewed movement for queer equity
LGBTQ+ Texans are familiar with laws regulating their right to exist publicly and have fought for an equal standing with everyone else for just as long. The modern movement can be traced back to the 1960s, said Wesley Phelps, a historian at the University of North Texas whose focus is the LGBTQ+ community in the south.
At the time, Texas advocates fought sodomy laws banning sex for gay men and lesbian women.
“There were activists all over Texas who understood that as long as that sodomy law was on the books, as long as it was illegal to engage in sex with someone of the same sex, queer people would always wear that stigma of criminality,” Phelps said. “You could be denied employment, you could be denied housing, you could be denied food stamp assistance, because if you were gay, you were an admitted criminal.”
By the 1970s, advocacy groups had been established in major cities, including Dallas and Houston. And in these cities, activists formed political advocacy groups. The sentiment eventually spread farther, reaching Austin, San Antonio and El Paso. Part of that movement included adding local protections to city charters that prohibited housing and employment discrimination that don’t exist at the state or federal level.
And in 2003, the Texas Supreme Court ruled the sodomy law unconstitutional.
The push to eliminate protections for the broader LGBTQ+ community will trigger a backlash, Phelps said.
“I think things like that have reignited a movement for queer equality today,” Phelps said. “It’s not just that we’re entering a period where it’s going to be difficult to win victories, but the ones already achieved are under threat.”
Many Texans told The Texas Tribune that they plan to stay put, regardless of the policies seeking to regulate their everyday lives. They are turning to optimism and each other, reminding themselves of their right to live openly, they said.
In Houston, Daron Yanez Perez hosts support groups for transgender men. Trans Men Empowerment, which he founded in 2023, has more than 200 members and hosts meetings in person and online. As part of the programming, Perez invites policy and mental health experts who help the members understand how the policies affect them.
Many of Perez’s members are reluctant to use public restrooms, he said, out of fear for their safety. Perez said he would not use the women’s restroom because he does not think women would feel comfortable sharing a restroom with him.
“They’re using restrooms to go after us because they don’t like us, but we’re not going anywhere, we’ve always been here,” Perez said.
In Dallas, Javier Enriquez helps LGBTQ+ people who struggle with loneliness. Enriquez, who is president of the Dallas Social Queer Association, hosts about a dozen events a month. Up to 40 attended each event, which include gay trivia and activities tailored for disabled, elderly people, Hispanic and Asian Pacific Islanders who identify as LGBTQ+.
Enriquez said directives that spell out limits for transgender people and rainbow crosswalks are a distraction from real issues like potholes and unmet trash service. And LGBTQ+ Texans as a community are used to enact that distraction, he said. The resources spent on removing the rainbow colors from the crosswalks, he said, could be put to better use on the city’s infrastructure.
Still, he acknowledged that the orders have instilled fear.
“There are people, especially our transgender siblings, who are worried about being able to call Dallas their home with everything going on, and not all of them have the privilege of the resources to be able to move out,” he said. “And to some of them, this is home, where they built their lives and families… and despite what happens in this world, we are here and we aren’t going anywhere.”
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