At Save Our Families, we focus on centering the voices of those with lived experience, so today we will do that in honor of our trans brothers and sisters. In 2023, I met Lysithea, pre-transition, at a restaurant in Shaker Square. I was tired, taking a break from work, but mostly drained with grief. Earlier in the year, I lost a loved one to self-harm, and was coming upon the anniversaries of both of my parents’ passing. However, the ask was direct and simple. I was asked to step in as a support system, or in her words, to be a queer elder and support our youth. I had a list of reasons ready so I could say no and stay steeped in the sadness. I questioned my ability to be an elder when I was still accepting my life without elders to guide me. Deep within, I knew, I had to be selfless and step up. While I did not know much about the trans community, I knew the lack of support was prominent, and I was being asked to be part of the solution. These last few years, I’ve learn just as much, if not more, than I’ve been able to teach, Lysithea. I’ve learned that when we focus on the differences instead of our commonalities, it causes division and harm. I’ve learned that listening is more important than speaking, and I’ve learned that showing up with an open mind and an open heart is enough.  Below is a piece Lysithea has guest-written for us today.  – Kristy F. Steele

It’s late, around 11 o’clock, as the train comes to a stop at the end of the line. I’m coming back from a speaking engagement advocating for transgender healthcare. I’m standing in the handicap section with my bike as the middle-aged man who has been eyeing me for the past three stops gets up from his seat. I’ve been planning what to do in a situation like this ever since I knew I was trans, how to escape or defend myself, but now that it’s here all I want to do is scream. The conductor doesn’t give me a second glance as he takes his smoke break, and I realize I’m alone in this. I leave the train, hauling my bike behind me as fast as I can manage. As I begin to pedal, glancing over my shoulder, I think about how many Black trans women just like me have left this world in similar ways, killed by a lack of intervention, an ill-intentioned stranger, or an intimate partner.

Erasure and underreporting of violence against trans people has become all too common. According to Forbes, 350 gender-queer and trans people were killed in 2024 alone, and in 2025 thus far, 124 discriminatory laws targeting trans people in 49 of the 50 United States have been passed. From the pathologization of trans people as a whole to the intentional eradication of safe spaces and resources like gender-affirming care for those under 18 in 27 states, and the scrapping of the LGBTQIA+ extension to the 988 hotline in recent years, trans people have been pushed to the brink.

However, while this violence has grown more common, it is far from new. The first openly transgender person to testify before Congress did so to chronicle the violent acts committed against her during the Memphis Massacre of 1866. Her name was Frances Thompson, and her appearance helped pass the Enforcement Acts of 1870 and 1871. One hundred fifty-nine years later, I am proud to say my life is a testament to her legacy, yet there is still so much work to be done. I carry on her work through my own by continuing to make sure her name is not forgotten, as well as the names of every other trans person who was taken from us too soon due to violence. Written by Lysithea 



Sources:

https://www.kff.org/lgbtq/gender-affirming-care-policy-tracker/
https://translegislation.com
https://www.forbes.com/sites/jamiewareham/2024/11/16/350-transgender-people-murdered-in-2024-will-the-violence-ever-end/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frances_Thompson