On 6th August 2021, a Trans Rights Protest was held in Parliament Square. 13 speakers were present, all with their own fierce, sad, angry, joyful experiences from within the transgender community. What brought us together under the sunny August sky and what can we carry with us into the future?
When you start writing, one of the things publishers will try to encourage you to do is increase your social media presence. It makes sense, especially today where the internet is one of our most prolific and valuable marketing tools. I, however, find platforms like Twitter increasingly difficult to use. It makes me miserable and has become a space where I spend my time scrolling endlessly through what appears to be an insurmountable wave of constant hatred.
Stepping off the platform at Westminster, I am worried I will have come all this way to be faced with the same overwhelming loneliness. The thought, however irrational, that it will just be me standing against something much bigger and more horrible.
And then, appearing like I had willed it, is a flash of blue and pink. A swirling yellow and purple striped cape is revealed, splitting through the crowd of business suits and old stone buildings, revealing a growing group of figures holding signs and placards. On them were messages of love, anger and a rallying cry for justice. I take a more confident step forward and join those just beside the small stage, where someone with a megaphone is instructing a crowd on protest safety.
It is easy to feel powerless in this increasingly hostile environment, both online and in the media as a whole. One of the first things I learned from the protest is that there are more of us than there are of them. We are a growing community full of hope and the drive for justice, and each of us worked to ensure the space was safe and supportive. In comparison, ‘gender critical’ events seem miniscule. Although their voices are loud, it was empowering to realise that we are not alone in our fight. The youngest speaker was an incredibly eloquent 14-year-old girl, Kate Gee. That she felt supported and safe enough to stand and address the crowd was a testament to us as a community, as well as her own strength.
It is also important to learn that the fight is not over. The protest led to some online harassment for speakers and attendees alike, with targeted abuse. In the months following, more have made their transphobic views public, and so I turn back to protest as the only way that our voices can be truly heard. Trans men have completely lost access to lower surgery, and waiting lists for any kind of life-saving treatment is well over the legal limit.
What I truly learned from the Trans Rights Protest is something I have always known: we are a community of beautiful and creative people worthy of love and respect. I also learned that without the support to platform our voices, our needs will continue to go unheard. What we can take with us is the drive to do better, to be better, to make the world a better place for those of us living here, and the trans people that will come after us. If I can make the world safer for a trans kid, I will have done my job well.