Visibility Is a Tricky Thing
To be visible is to be seen—but how others see us is not fully within our control. Visibility can be a spotlight, a lifeline, or a target. For trans people, being visible might mean someone finally sees you for who you are: a beautiful, whole, magnificent human living in your authenticity. Or it might mean someone sees you because of who you are—and in that, visibility can become dangerous.
Sometimes we’re not seen because the world doesn’t yet have the eyes to see us. Other times, people don’t want to see us. Too often, we’ve had to hide ourselves for safety, survival, or peace. But visibility—especially on Trans Day of Visibility—can’t rest solely on trans and nonbinary people stepping forward, however powerfully and vulnerably they do. That’s just one piece of the puzzle.
If visibility is going to be a tool for change—not just a symbol—then it has to be shared. It has to be upheld and protected by those around us. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it really means to be both visible and safe. Safety, too, is complex—something we each feel and define differently.
I wonder what it would mean if those who claim to support us showed up just as loudly as those who aim to erase us. What it might feel like if trans people never felt alone in our visibility.
Because the truth is—these last few years, and especially the last few months, have forced many of us to see the world more clearly. With anti-trans legislation sweeping the country, attacks on bodily autonomy, book bans, rising white nationalism, and the erosion of civil rights across the board, we’re learning—painfully—who our community really is.
There’s a kind of betrayal that can mar visibility, too. When allies turn out to be silent, or worse—conditional. When the divide between politics and humanity becomes a chasm. And yet, even in all this, there is clarity. Amid the noise and cruelty, some things have sharpened: who we are, what we stand for, and who’s truly beside us.
When Community Shows Up—for Real
This weekend, I witnessed the magic that happens when community shows up.
In celebration of Trans Day of Visibility, I partnered with my hometown Pride organization, Casper Pride, and the incredible Transmittee (our trans-led committee), to create a weekend full of education, connection, and joy. This was our fourth year organizing a TDOV celebration—and this time, we went big. We threw MasQueerade Promenade, a queer prom for the community: a radically visible act of celebration, overflowing with the joy we all deserve.
From the moment the doors opened, it was magic. Folks arrived in stunning outfits, with their friends, families, and full selves. Some braved the nerves of being out in a public, affirming space for the very first time. All of them showed up for joy—for one another—and being witness to that was a gift.
Each year, celebrating TDOV deepens my understanding of what true allyship looks like—not just on March 31st, but every day.
When a trans or nonbinary person walks into a queer prom in their small town, there’s joy—but also uncertainty. Who will be there? Will it feel safe? Will I be welcomed? Will I feel seen? These are the questions we carry.
And yet, again and again, we’ve been met with something powerful—proof that beyond our own queer and trans community, allies are showing up too. Quietly. Steadily. Visibly. Events like this remind us that visibility doesn’t have to be a solo act—it can be a shared celebration.
We Are Visible—and Being Targeted
It’s not just a feeling. It’s in the headlines, in legislative hearings, and on school boards: trans and nonbinary people—especially youth—are being targeted by an unprecedented wave of anti-trans laws, bans, and misinformation.
According to the ACLU’s Legislative Tracker, over 500 anti-LGBTQ+ bills were introduced in 2024 alone—most aimed directly at trans people’s access to healthcare, education, and public life. In 2025, the numbers remain just as high. Learn more at:
https://translegislation.com
The FBI’s Hate Crime Statistics report shows a disturbing rise in violence against trans people, especially Black and Brown trans women.
And according to The Trevor Project’s 2024 survey, 46% of trans and nonbinary youth seriously considered suicide in the past year.
This is the climate we’re navigating visibility within.
What Visibility Means—and Why It Still Matters
Visibility isn’t just about posting online or being publicly out—though those are meaningful acts. It’s about ensuring trans lives are seen, respected, and safe—not just on one day in March, but every single day.
A trans kid seeing someone like them thriving
A parent learning how to support their child without shame or fear
A policymaker defending trans rights as human rights
A coworker speaking up when someone is misgendered
A friend or loved one showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable
It’s you, reading this, deciding that silence isn’t safety.
It’s complicity.
Staying Safe While Being Visible
Visibility can be powerful—but also risky. Here are a few ways trans folks—and those who love us—can stay safer during TDOV and beyond:
For Trans Youth
Trust your instincts—don’t share personal info online unless it’s safe
Know your rights at school and seek support if you’re being targeted, ideally from a trusted ally
Have a safety plan and reach out to hotlines like The Trevor Project (call/text/chat 24/7) or TransLifeline
For Parents & Caregivers
Use your child’s chosen name and pronouns—it’s one of the most affirming things you can do
Advocate for inclusive school policies
Connect with other affirming families through groups like PFLAG or Gender Spectrum, or if you are in Casper, WY, reach out to me to connect about joining Transparency - our group for parents of trans kids and adults.
For Everyone
Use privacy settings on social media, and if you share your personal information and situation, do so with discretion
Report online harassment immediately
Take breaks from news and social feeds when needed—visibility doesn’t mean burnout
Action Is Visibility, Too
You don’t have to be trans to be visible in this fight. Allies and policymakers have vital roles to play—not just in marching beside us, but in reshaping the systems that harm us.
If You’re a Policymaker
Champion laws that protect trans youth and ensure access to gender-affirming care
Oppose legislation that seeks to erase or punish trans people
Collaborate with trans-led organizations and communities when crafting policy
If You’re an Ally
Speak up when you hear misinformation or bigotry—even when it’s uncomfortable
Support trans-led orgs, artists, and businesses
Push for inclusive policies where you work and live
Show up. Go to the rally. Share the fundraiser. Talk to your family. Be loud about your support
Visibility Is a Two-Way Street
Trans Day of Visibility isn’t just about trans people being brave—it’s about building a world where that bravery isn’t a requirement for survival.
Because being visible shouldn’t come with risk.
Because we deserve to be safe in our schools, homes, hospitals, and communities.
Because our joy, our families, and our futures shouldn’t depend on someone else’s political agenda.
This year, let’s shift the question from:
“Are trans people visible enough?”
to
“Is the world safe enough for us to be seen?”
We don’t just need trans people to be visible—we need allies to be unmistakably, unapologetically visible too.
We need to know you’re out there.
We need to feel your support—in real, tangible ways.
So stand up. Show up. And make it known:
Trans people deserve a world where our visibility doesn’t have to serve as an act of resistance—it should be a celebration of being fully alive.
So I Have a Simple Ask
If you care—make it known.
Let your values be visible. Let your solidarity be loud and unwavering.
If you believe in dignity, in justice, in your neighbors and loved ones, now is not the time to whisper. Now is not the time to fade back. Be bold. Be visible with us. Not in a way that centers yourself—but in a way that tells the world: we are not alone.