Jess O’Thomson: We’re turning our grief into strength

To say that it has been a difficult year for the trans community in the UK would be a massive understatement. We have lost friends and loved ones. We grieve their loss, deeply. And this grief comes during one of the darkest political moments our community has ever faced.

Following the Supreme Court’s decision in April, we have witnessed a deliberate and concerted attempt to roll back trans people’s rights. Of course, the judgment itself was dire, and made without hearing from a single trans person. But the real damage came afterwards. The frenzy of politicians, the media, and anti-trans activists seeking to maximise its harmful impact on trans people – claiming that the law now requires nationwide bathroom bans, and weaponising the judgment to argue for a complete reversal on trans inclusion across society. Ultimately, the rhetorical victory far outweighs the legal one.

The impact has been devastating. I have heard from so many people who are facing discrimination at work, or in their hobbies and social lives. It’s almost impossible to participate in normal life when you don’t know what toilet you can use. Trans people have lost whatever trust they had left in public institutions. My friends fantasise about being able to leave the country, and many are making massive life decisions on the assumption that they will have to leave soon. Other friends confide in me that they have stopped planning, because they don’t think they will still be alive to make those kinds of decisions. I have lost count of the number of people who have contacted Good Law Project to say they have had suicidal thoughts. I find it very hard to describe to those outside of the trans community just how dark things have been. I do not want to lose any more friends.

But it’s important to remember that the decision of the Supreme Court came within a climate that was already hostile to trans rights – and has been for years. This was not a complete about turn. At a vigil last year for Trans Day of Remembrance, I spoke about the transphobic murder in 2023 of a teenage girl, Brianna Ghey. Our community faces violence and discrimination, but we also lack access to essential support – trans people continue to face enormous waiting lists for, or be completely denied access to, appropriate healthcare. I have been writing for years about the increasing normalisation of transphobia within this country. And Good Law Project has long been bringing cases to try and resist these trends. This has been an escalation, not a bolt from the blue.

Of course, this year, things do feel more acute. The presidency of Donald Trump, and his attacks on equality, diversity and inclusion have resulted in a sudden withdrawal of funding and support for the queer community. Once fun and easy, the performative allyship of trans flags and rainbows has all but disappeared. The people who are still willing to raise their voices for us are heavily punished. It now takes real bravery to be an outspoken trans ally, when those allies are needed more than ever.

But something gives me hope. Despite just how bad things have gotten, I think I feel more hopeful than I have in years. I have watched how – faced with the biggest attack on our rights there has ever been – our community has come together to take care of each other, and to fight back. I have listened as courageous allies have spoken out loudly, despite the cost, coming together to say – not in our name. I have felt love, and care, and support from my community, as we have realised that only solidarity can get us through this.

Over the weekend, I was appalled to see the outrageous attacks of the current Labour government on asylum seekers – proposing utterly inhumane policies reported to be inspired by Trump’s America, and which seem to be backed by Tommy Robinson. It’s not just trans people who are under attack. But the only way to resist the rise of authoritarianism and the far right is when we stand together. This year I have stood side by side with the trans community, with Palestinians, and with migrants from all over the world, as we make clear that we are far harder to destroy united than alone.

Today is Trans Day of Remembrance. Today we remember and grieve all those we have lost. But we also commit – collectively – to fighting for those of us who are left. There will be hope as long as we continue to stand together.