SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
anti-trans
Hey Schumer and Newsom, It’s Not Leadership to Abandon the People Who Need You Most
The Democratic Party’s retreat to centrism—from welfare reform in the 90s to recent budget deals—has consistently weakened its own base while signaling to Republicans that cruelty works.
Mar 29, 2025
It’s a tale as old as American liberalism: Say the right thing—but only when it’s safe, and only after the damage is done.
Earlier this month, Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) had a choice to draw the line and stand up to a Republican-led budget that proposed slashing essential services like the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) and Section 8 housing assistance. Instead, after publicly criticizing the bill, he reversed course in under 24 hours and urged Democrats to pass it—calling it the “best path forward to avoid a shutdown.”
This is what establishment leadership looks like: performative urgency wrapped in political safety.The families who rely on SNAP and Section 8 aren’t breathing easier because D.C. stayed open. They’re still wondering how to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads.
Schumer and Newsom want to be seen as steady hands.The country doesn’t need politicians who manage decline gracefully. They need leaders who disrupt the status quo to protect the people it was never built to serve.
Meanwhile, California Gov. Gavin Newsom decided to deny support to trans athletes. On the first episode of his new podcast, This Is Gavin Newsom, he said it was “deeply unfair” for trans women to compete in women’s sports—framing that echoed right-wing rhetoric used to push anti-trans legislation.
And he didn’t say it to a neutral audience—he said it toCharlie Kirk, a far-right extremist who has spent years spreading anti-LGBTQ+ disinformation and promoting voter suppression through Turning Point USA.
Newsom invited him on as his first guest in an effort to appear “bipartisan.” That move alone signals more than a desire to reach across the aisle—it signals whose approval he’s seeking.
This wasn’t a spontaneous exchange—it was a calculated move, and a political wink to the center-right, packaged as “balance.” And it came from the same man who once signed a bill making California a sanctuary state for trans youth. That contrast gave right-wing media a fresh soundbite.
Even Rep.Sarah McBride (D-Del.)—the first openly trans member of Congress—recently urged Democrats to make room for people with “honest questions” about trans inclusion in sports. But those questions aren’t neutral. They’re part of a long, strategic assault on trans people’s dignity.
State Sen. Scott Wiener (D-11), one of the few who consistently shows up for trans communities, called it out immediately: “Trans people are under attack. They need support, not betrayal.”
In March 2024, Schumer gave a speech condemning Israeli leader Benjamin Netanyahu and calling for elections in Israel—after more than 30,000 Palestinians were already dead. The speech was safe, and the policy—uninterrupted U.S. military aid—remained unchanged.
This is what performative politics looks like in action: too late, too safe, and too empty.
We’re told these are “tough choices.” But they’re only tough if your priority is your career. When Democrats lose ground, they often shift to the center—abandoning bold policies and the people who need them most.
But history shows that doesn’t win back power—it loses trust. As American Affairs Journal outlines, the party’s retreat to centrism—from welfare reform in the 90s to recent budget deals—has consistently weakened its own base while signaling to Republicans that cruelty works.
I know the cost of centrist politics because I lived it. In the 90s, Democrats embraced welfare reform and tough-on-crime laws to look “tough” and “moderate.”
That turn helped criminalize poverty. I was convicted of welfare fraud. I wasn’t gaming the system; I was surviving it. Whole communities were punished in the name of bipartisanship. So when Democrats today praise “moderation,” I hear echoes of policies that nearly erased me.
If you’re poor, trans, undocumented, disabled, or Palestinian—these choices don’t look tough. They look familiar.
And they cause harm. When people with power echo right-wing talking points, they legitimize them. They embolden bills that restrict bodily autonomy, gut benefits, and criminalize survival. They signal that marginalized people—their lives and dignity—are negotiable.
Schumer and Newsom want to be seen as steady hands.The country doesn’t need politicians who manage decline gracefully. They need leaders who disrupt the status quo to protect the people it was never built to serve.
So where are the leaders?
Not the ones who speak up after it’s politically safe. Not the ones who adjust their stances based on polling data, shifting with the wind instead of standing for something. Where are the ones who lead from the front?
Real leadership is not polished. It’s the woman clearing her record. It’s the trans activist running mutual aid while dodging attacks. It’s the undocumented student organizing for housing justice with no promise of safety.
And it is me, a formerly incarcerated queer Black woman who went back to college in her 50s. Who found her voice not in press rooms but in courtrooms, classrooms, and community spaces. Who survived systems designed to erase her and came back fighting for others still trapped inside them.
Real change doesn’t trickle down—it rises up. From organizing, solidarity, and movements that center the people most impacted and most ignored.
Real leaders are not waiting on permission. They are building with the people already creating justice—one expungement, one coalition, one unapologetic truth at a time.
Keep ReadingShow Less
Trans People Are Allies in the Struggle Against Hardship, Not Rivals
Anti-trans attacks are designed to keep us all politically reactive, overwhelmed, and unfocused on the deep systemic failures of our society.
Feb 16, 2025
Across the country, trans and nonbinary people and their families are reeling from U.S. President Donald Trump’s cruel anti-trans executive orders, which restrict our access to passports, lifesaving healthcare, military service, athletics, and more.
This builds off an election season that placed us squarely in the crosshairs of political and religious scapegoating.
In 2024 alone, 672 anti-trans bills were introduced at the state and federal level, most of them targeting trans and nonbinary young people. Although more than 600 of those bills failed, President Trump just signed an executive order carrying out many of their worst impulses.
Today, both in the United States and in many parts of the world, trans and nonbinary people—a tiny, frequently poor, and marginalized percentage of the general population—are being used as scapegoats, as symbolic threats to the “right” way of being.
Trump’s order directs multiple agencies to withhold funds from medical providers that provide gender-affirming medical treatments to children. Despite legal challenges to the order, several major hospital systems have indefinitely suspended this care already.
These assaults on trans and nonbinary people closely parallel the strategy that Christian Nationalists used in politicizing abortion access—an issue that had been previously considered apolitical by the majority of Americans, including the majority of American Christians.
Now the eerily similar argument of “defending innocent children” is being deployed against gender-affirming care, despite overwhelming medical and psychological evidence that this care saves young people’s lives.
Denying this care is about repressively controlling young people, not protecting them.
Throughout history, the unjust and powerful have sought to control people’s bodies as a means to maintain their own social position. This often led to “othering” people who could be isolated, marginalized, and blamed for any variety of injustices, while drawing attention away from those who were actually responsible for widespread misery. It’s a practice that goes all the way back to ancient Rome.
Today, both in the United States and in many parts of the world, trans and nonbinary people—a tiny, frequently poor, and marginalized percentage of the general population—are being used as scapegoats, as symbolic threats to the “right” way of being.
There is nothing innate or organic about the rise of anti-LGBTQ hate in the United States. As illustrated through the research of Translash Media, organizations like the National Christian Foundation, the DeVos Family, and the Council for National Policy have been instrumental in the funding, development, and workshopping of anti-trans and anti-queer sentiment, policy, and theology.
Fundamentalist Protestant organizations such as Focus on the Family, the Family Policy Alliance, and the Family Research Council have been key in launching the anti-trans movement within the last decade, including drafting the first anti-trans legislation at the Heritage Foundation’s “Summit on Protecting Children from Sexualization” conference in 2019.
These constant attacks are aimed at getting struggling people to blame trans folks for their problems. And they’re designed to keep us all politically reactive, overwhelmed, and unfocused on the deep systemic failures of our society.
But trans and nonbinary people know all too well what it’s like to struggle. Indeed, being poor and being trans are frequently inseparable experiences: Trans and nonbinary people are twice as likely to be unemployed, twice as likely to be homeless, and four times as likely to live in extreme poverty than the general population.
So we are allies in the struggle against hardship, not rivals. Similarly, we see our struggles as trans people as linked to the fights for reproductive justice, fair wages, safe working conditions, housing, and immigration justice—and against sexual violence, militarism, and police brutality.
In short, we support every other struggle for people just trying to live safely in their own bodies.
While the real dangers and strain of this moment cannot be underestimated, we must continue to examine and effectively address the root causes of our suffering—and find our common cause with all other hurting and dispossessed people.
Keep ReadingShow Less
As Trump and Musk Flood the Zone, Solidarity Is Our Life Raft
When they manufacture chaos to divide us, we must recognize it as a desperate attempt to prevent us from building the collective power they fear.
Feb 07, 2025
These first 100 days in any presidency is a statement. A statement made for one's supporters who then cheer in response. U.S. President Donald Trump made a clear statement when he pardoned everyone involved in the assault on the capitol on January 6, 2021. Many have become concerned the message is that political violence on behalf of Trump will be forgiven, condoned, and even encouraged. No doubt his most fervent supporters are receiving the message and have already vowed revenge.
During these first 100 days the messages are also for those who did not vote for the president. Past administrations have often gone to extremes to find a way to include someone in their cabinet from the opposite party, an expression of a political olive branch, a promise to work together, across differences in priorities and ideologies. Here, Trump is sending the message that anyone who has ever even as much as thought in ways that were not in favor of him are in danger, in danger of losing their jobs, and even in physical danger as he prioritized removing security clearances from Gen. Mark Milley and Dr. Anthony Fauci.
We are receiving statements, and many of us are left with a set of chaotic destructions to try to untangle and make sense of. The shock and awe, the flooding of the zone that Steve Bannon and others have articulated is playing out. We know their playbook, yet we find our emotions played with regardless. As an already exhausted Stephen Colbert noted on his show on January 30, this isn't our first rodeo. We know how they will push us around with the 24-hour disorienting news cycle, yet somehow we're still receiving a concussion. Even when we can anticipate trauma, it doesn't negate the impact on our bodies—individual and collective.
Trump's entertaining charades, his absurdly chaotic and nonsensical yet mesmerizing performance, leaves us breathless and tells us a lie about our neighbors being our enemies rather than our greatest assets.
On January 29, we saw 67 bodies, 67 lives become extinguished in a tragic crash where an army helicopter crashed into plane landing from Wichita, Kansas in D.C. The country grieved the unimaginable. The first major airline incident since 2009. I know most of us held each other extra close at the news, and our hearts broke for all those whose future would never be the same, who are enduring the unimaginable grief of losing someone who is everything to them.
Yet before families could even begin to process their losses, with a racist and ableist fervor, Trump seized this tragedy as another opportunity to divide us. Without evidence, he blamed diversity initiatives and disabled people—a claim that is unabashedly in opposition of reality. The New York Times reported that staffing shortages are the more pressing concern, with federal agencies struggling for years to fill key positions at the Federal Aviation Administration. The type of staffing that had one air traffic control worker managing both helicopters and planes is reportedly not uncommon, pointing to systemic issues rather than Trump's manufactured and dangerous crisis about diversity in the workplace.
This administration's strategy is clear: Create chaos, place blame on marginalized communities, and hope we're too exhausted to see through the smoke and mirrors. Meanwhile, federal workers are being pressured—by Elon Musk's DOGE initiative no less—to accept questionable "Fork in the Road" resignation offers, further destabilizing our institutions and the people who keep them running. Ironically these resignations are being forced as a way to save money while Elon Musk's company Tesla paid $0 in taxes in 2024.
The cruel irony is that diversity actually strengthens teams and improves performance—this isn't just rhetoric, it's backed by extensive research. Recent McKinsey studies show companies committed to diversity demonstrate a 39% increased likelihood of outperformance. Diverse teams bring unique perspectives that unlock innovation, enhance problem-solving, and create environments where everyone feels empowered to contribute their full expertise. When we artificially limit who can participate, we all lose.
But this administration isn't interested in evidence-based policy. If they were, we would see very different approaches across the board. Take trans healthcare, for example. The American Medical Association has explicitly stated that gender-affirming care is medically necessary, warning that "forgoing gender-affirming care can have tragic consequences." They've urged governors to oppose legislation prohibiting such care for minor patients, calling it "a dangerous intrusion into the practice of medicine." Yet instead of following medical expertise, we see continued demonization of trans youth and their families. This assault on evidence extends further—a harrowing war on science has been unleashed, with Trump officials now targeting even basic terms like "gender" and "disability" through the National Science Foundation.
As this administration wages war on scientific language and evidence-based policy, there is much chaos to weed through, and it is hard to know what to pay attention to. So much of these performances are really designed to exhaust us. To leave us feeling defeated. There are lots of questions about what resistance looks like at a time like this. Even questions as to whether resistance is possible.
My answer to these questions is: Of course there is resistance. In fact, there is what indigenous scholar Gerald Vizenor termed survivance. Right now, surviving IS resistance. When so many of our neighbors are directly threatened, their joy and their existence IS resistance.
These tactics from Trump and Musk are pointing toward how we need to strategize as a response. We need a politics of solidarity. Solidarity means seeing that for most of us who hold complex identities, we are seeing our rights be whittled away. This administration is deploying transparent strategies to turn us against one another even as we see the way elite billionaires—the same ones standing behind him during the inauguration, obstructing the view of his future cabinet—are the only ones likely to thrive. The price of eggs is not going down. Tariffs on our closest neighbors, and our greatest allies, have been put on a pause after another frantic performance that ate up airwaves, yet they loom—leaving the possibility of, in the near future, increasing prices on basic necessities in the United States due to these tariffs. Most of us who are not elite billionaires are unlikely to see our quality of life improve.
Yet, Trump's entertaining charades, his absurdly chaotic and nonsensical yet mesmerizing performance, leaves us breathless and tells us a lie about our neighbors being our enemies rather than our greatest assets. He wants us to forget that we need each other—that our strength lies in our connections, our differences, our willingness to stand together.
There is a lesson here, an insight into what we need to survive, what we need to ensure everyone in our community is safe, and also an insight into what one strategy of dehumanization is for this administration. When they blame disabled people for an awful tragedy like the plane crash on January 29, we must recognize disabled people as vital assets to our communities. When they deny healthcare to trans youth, we must loudly and actively speak out in support of our trans friends, neighbors, and family members. When they vilify immigrants, we must remember that we are—as the poet Gwendolyn Brooks wrote—each other's harvest.
But let's be clear: The road ahead will be brutal. As more of us face direct threats to our lives and livelihoods, things will likely get worse before they get even worse. Many of us—disabled people, trans youth, people of color, immigrants, women, educators, dedicated federal workers, and others targeted by this administration—are not safe, and that's not hyperbole. That's precisely why solidarity isn't just a nice ideal—it's a survival strategy. When they manufacture chaos to divide us, we must recognize it as a desperate attempt to prevent us from building the collective power they fear. When they try to exhaust us, we must lean on each other. When they push policies that threaten our very existence, we must hold onto each other tighter.
Our solidarity is not based on naive optimism but on the clear-eyed understanding that we cannot survive alone. In these dangerous times, coming together isn't just an option—it's our only path forward. They want us isolated, exhausted, and afraid. Instead, we choose each other. We choose to recognize that our disabled neighbors make our communities stronger. We choose to stand with trans youth and their families. We choose to see immigrants as vital to our collective future. This is not the easy path—it's the necessary one. And while solidarity alone cannot guarantee our safety, it remains our best defense against those who would rather see us divided and conquered.
Keep ReadingShow Less
Most Popular