Why My Voice Matters?

Anyone who’s studied the universe in some form is probably aware that a lot of debate surrounds its beginning and end. Simply put, how did it start and how and when will it end? Theories include the Big Rip, the Big Crunch, and Heat Death. However, there’s more than these. There’s the question of whether or not the universe is a true vacuum or a false vacuum. “A true vacuum is the stable, lowest-energy state, like sitting still on a valley floor” (https://cosmosmagazine.com/science/physics/vacuum-decay-the-ultimate-catastrophe/). Then a universe that is a false vacuum, “is called 'metastable', because it’s not actively decaying (rolling), but it’s not exactly stable either.” The problem with this is that any second a bubble could form, pushing into the true vacuum, and then expanding the excess energy into the rest of the universe in a real bad way. It’s not only a matter of everything we know being destroyed, it’s a matter of the laws of space time itself being rewritten.

So that’s a lot of theoretical physics that, frankly, I barely understand. We may live in a universe with a false vacuum that will simply sail into heat death over the course of the many years, but the chain reaction starting a bubble from a black hole may have already started and is zooming to destroy Earth. As you may have guessed, this post is not about theoretical physics, It’s about being trans in the modern world.

A common thing I’ve been told by the adults in my life as well as political figures is that my voice and opinion is something meaningful and should be expressed. The question I’ve been asking ever since I transitioned, especially since I started publicly presenting as female, is how can I feel that, that what I say and do in the name of advocacy for myself and those like me, is something meaningful. That is to say, how can I feel that way when the world around me, much like the universe itself, is so cruel, uncaring, and could tear me to shreds at any second. This feeling will probably intensify as I become more "visibly trans,” as worries of walking alone at night, being in a bar, or just harassment from online presence. This might sound similar to cis women’s experience, but I would characterize the trans experience as far harsher despite their common ground. We tend to live shorter, lower-quality lives, with high rates of poverty, unemployment, and suicide. Contrary to popular right-wing narrative, trans people exist and persist in spite of the world around them, not because of it.

Maybe it’s obvious to most people, but I’ve come to realize that the thing about life and the conflicts found within it is that much like brushing teeth, or cleaning your room, those issues are work to deal with and must be dealt with regularly. I spent many years pre-social transition watching extravagant and explosive political debates on live streams. They were fast paced, full of zingers and clip-able moments. At least when the issues at hand directly affect you, things quickly become less fun. In fact, they become the aforementioned work. The conflicts begin to take a distinct toll every time they happen.

Does my voice matter? As one of the only trans people at a conservative and religious college, it often feels like saying “yes” is taking a leap of faith. I simply don’t get immediate answers that show progress or results, not on a campus like this. Not when I don’t even know the names of the people working against my attempts at progress behind the scenes. That, the ambiguity of progress, is coupled with the exhaustion of the fight. I feel an obligation to stay at this college, as I have been in this community since 2014 on some level. It’s something I’m entitled to, to not have to uproot my entire academic life because of other’s transphobia and homophobia I also feel an obligation to the other queer people on campus who’s voices are not heard. Leaving feels like losing, because the conservatives on campus want nothing more than for people like me to be out of sight and out of mind. But staying is also so clearly toxic, when the administration hoes and hums about getting to LGBT issues “eventually.” When transphobes and homophobes are tolerated at the lunch table, even by allies, simply because those are accepted view points in the town.

I was 14 when Obergefell v. Hodges was decided by the Supreme Court. It’s such a clear, obvious issue to me. Church and state should be separated, and therefore religious institutions can’t enforce their will on who people marry. Hating gay people explicitly became far less popular. Yet, in 2022, while I am now 22, I am facing my right to marry being revoked once again. It’s incredibly sad, especially because so many of my conservative friends and acquaintances just don’t seem to care about this. They will continue voting Republican until every one of my rights are sucked away into the void. How many of them would have said they opposed gay marriage legally ~4 years ago? The ambivalence towards suffering is obviously terrifying, but it gets even worse when one starts to think about how many cis people accept trans people simply because they fall on that side of the culture war. Little interest seems to be directed towards a deeper understanding that allows one to properly defend and understand the ideas in the face of adversity. This country is just cruel like that towards its weakest members.

So, does my voice matter? Simply put, I don’t know. If there was clear progress being made, locally or nationally, it would be a lot easier to say yes. But instead I’m faced with enemies that want me dead being on track to regain their power, with many friends being largely indifferent to my transition, and a school that doesn’t care that its LGBT students are fragmented and isolated. For every LGBT voice throughout history that has been heard, so many more have fallen on deaf ears in silence. How do I know my life won’t just be a tree in the forest that falls and no one hears? The reality is, just like I don’t know if a pocket of energy is expanding towards us to end all existence, I don’t know if anything I’m doing will have an impact in the end. All I have is my hope for a safer, freer world. I wish I could say I had more.