Tag: trans men

  • TDoR- A LGBTQ+ History Lesson

    TDoR- A LGBTQ+ History Lesson

    The First Transgender Day of Remembrance

    On November 20, 1999, the first Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDoR) took place. This was organized by activist Gwendolyn Ann Smith to honor the life of Rita Hester. A trans woman of color murdered the year before.

    Gwendolyn’s web project, Remembering Our Dead, launched to aggregate names of trans people lost to violence. Thus making our stories visible. Candlelit vigils in Boston and San Francisco marked a solemn promise: trans lives will not be erased.

    Since then, TDoR has grown into a global observance, with hundreds of cities participating annually.

    Rita Hester: Her Life, Her Death, Her Legacy

    Rita Hester was born November 30, 1963. She lived in Boston, where she was a vibrant presence in the queer and trans community.

    On November 28, 1998, she was stabbed to death in her apartment, reportedly twenty times. The media misgendered and dead named her. Only demonstrating the disrespect and erasure trans people face even in death.

    Her death sparked outrage and action. Leading to the first TDoR and the enduring memorial project that ensures trans lives are remembered. A mural in Boston now honors her, cementing her presence for generations to come.

    Notable Trans People Remembered: Impact & Legacy

    Sir Ewan Forbes (1912-1991)

    A Scottish doctor and trans man, Ewan Forbes, faced a legal challenge from his cousin. All over the inheritance of a baronetcy. Forbes, being AFAB, was forced to claim an intersex condition in a secret court hearing to win the case. Ewan lived publicly as himself, married the woman he loved, and carried his title. Though, the secrecy delayed broader legal recognition for trans people in the UK. His story is a reminder that trans men have always existed, just usually quietly. While erasure is even evident in victory.

    Albert Cashier (1843-1915)

    Albert Cashier, an Irish-born trans man, served in the Union Army during the American Civil War. He lived his adult life as a man until a car accident in 1910 revealed his assigned sex at birth. Later, in a state institution, attendants forced him into a dress against his will. Comrades remembered him as loyal and steadfast, and he was buried in his full military uniform in 1915. Albert’s story illustrates resilience, service, and the courage of living authentically despite societal erasure.

    Dr. Alan Hart (1890–1962)

    Alan Hart, a trans man and American physician and radiologist. He was also one of the first trans men in the United States to undergo hysterectomy and gonadectomy in 1917. Though, his career and life were lived under the constant threat of being outed. Which, sadly, would have ended his medical work. Hart’s persistence highlights both the courage and the invisibility imposed on trans men in history.

    Billy Tipton (1914–1989)

    A celebrated jazz musician, Billy Tipton lived and worked as a man to pursue a career in music. Jazz venues wouldn’t book women musicians, so Billy became. He lived the life he wanted, just as many queer people of the time did. And Billy thrived, he led bands and toured relentlessly. Eventually he built a reputation as a talented, reliable musician. Billy booked steady gigs in Oklahoma and Washington, raised three boys, and maintained a family life. Billy’s life was loving and ordinary in all ways that mattered. Though, after his death in 1989, paramedics discovered he had been assigned female at birth. Turning what should have been private, into a media frenzy. Billy was ripped open by tablets hungry for spectacle. Instead of honoring a respected musician, the media turned him into a headline. Misgendering him, mocking him, and sensationalizing his life without the faintest understanding of the violence that exposure like this causes. This was one of the first major examples of the modern press publicly outing a trans man without consent. Eventually, it shaped the way media ethics would be debated. Yet, none of that noise changes the truth. Billy lived his life as himself, loved his kids, made his music, and never owed the world a fucking thing. Billy Tipton’s story is a stark example of how transgender men have been misrepresented, even after death.

    Gwendolyn Ann Smith

    The founder of TDoR and author. Her activism preserves memory and builds community. Gwendolyn dreams to exist in a world where we no longer need the memorial she created. Her work ensures that trans lives lost to violence are not forgotten, creating a foundation for grief, resistance, and advocacy.

    Monique Thomas & Chanelle Pickett

    Both women are trans women of color whose deaths preceded Rita Hester’s. Monique Thomas (1998) and Chanelle Pickett (1995) are integral to TDoR’s early history. Their lives and deaths emphasize that violence against trans women, especially Black trans women, is part of a systemic pattern.

    Marsha P. Johnson (1945–1992)

    A self-proclaimed transvestite, She/her, drage queen activist, and community elder, Marsha P. Johnson co-founded STAR (Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries) with Sylvia Rivera. She fought for queer and trans youth, living openly and boldly. Remembering her highlights the activism, joy, and resistance within trans communities, and not only loss.

    Recent Transgender people lost to soon

    Mar’Quis “MJ” Jackson

    A 33-year-old Black trans man and Philadelphia activist. MJ worked with the William Way Center, Transgender Legal Defense Fund, and The Free KY Project. He was found deceased on December 14, 2022, from multiple blunt force injuries. His life was full of love and activism. Being described as someone who “would get the party started anywhere” and “loved everybody.” In January 2025, Charles Mitchell was convicted for involuntary manslaughter and other charges related to MJ’s death. His story paints a picture of violence against trans people. While we also seldom get actual justice.

    Nex Benedict (2008-2024)

    A 16-year-old nonbinary student from Owasso, Oklahoma, Nex endured severe bullying and a physical assault at school. Despite the school nurse recommending a medical examination, Nex finished the day at school. To arrive home bloodied after being left to endure the rest of the day without proper care. They later died from an overdose, a death considered a result of systemic failures in schools and anti-trans environments. Nex’s story reflects both the vulnerability of trans youth and the urgent need for systemic protections.

    Sam Nordquist

    Sam was a 24-year-old trans man of color from Minnesota. He endured weeks of physical and sexual abuse, starvation, and psychological torture before his death in early 2025. Seven scumbag monsters were charged with second-degree murder. Two of which had recently been released after sexual charges. These excuses for humans also had two minor children actively engaged in abusing Sam. This angel of a human was also a healthcare worker. He loved his community, he wanted simply to be loved. I will always have a dedicated memorial page dedicated to him on my website. His memorial page tells the story of what he loved, shares art, and honors him. His life, work, and heart should not be reduced to his death. Sam reflects the vibrancy, generosity, and bravery of trans men today.

    Why This Matters: Memory, Violence, Resistance

    TDoR is resistance, not just memorial. Reading names refuses invisibility. Lighting candles is defiance. Violence against trans people is not new, and systemic and cultural erasure persists.

    Legal protections in the U.S. stay a patchwork at best. As of 2024, only about 21–23 states plus D.C. explicitly protect gender identity across employment, housing, and public accommodations. In the remaining states, trans people can face legal discrimination. This includes things like “gay/trans panic” defense. This legal defense still exists in roughly 30 states, excusing violence based on bias.

    Now we approach weaponized visibility. Trans women are often hyper-visible, opening them up to new dangers. While trans men are erased, their existence ignored in public discourse, sports, and legislation. Both experiences mirror systemic abuse that fuels discrimination and violence.

    Honoring the Living While Remembering the Dead

    TDoR is both grief and affirmation. It memorializes those lost like Rita Hester, Monique Thomas, Marsha P. Johnson, Brandon Teena, Sam Nordquist, Nex Benedict, MJ Jackson and so many more. While still reminding us to support living trans people. History stretches from the Union Army to contemporary schools and workplaces, showing how erasure and resistance are deeply intertwined.

    Every name read on TDoR is a spark, every candle lit a defiance. We remember, we resist, and we build toward a world where no trans life is taken by hate.

    Trans history reaches further than most realize. Before the Nazis destroyed Berlin’s Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, trans people in Germany had access to pioneering medical care and advocacy resources. They of course were violently erased in the 1930s. Remembering these early efforts reminds us that trans existence and resilience predate contemporary struggles.

    This post highlights trans men more heavily than I typically would on a TDoR post. However I a trans man, only recently learned the historical trans men’s names let alone their histories. Figures like Billy Tipton, Albert Cashier, Sir Ewan Forbes, and Dr. Alan Hart lived powerful, often invisible lives, and their stories deserve visibility alongside the trans women who are too often hyper-visible and unsafe. For many trans men, history has quietly erased them and that invisibility is part of why this remembrance matters today.

    Poem about Sam

    Poem about trans people gone to soon

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  • Respect Isn’t Optional: Transphobia, Cowardice, and the Workplace Reality

    Respect Isn’t Optional: Transphobia, Cowardice, and the Workplace Reality

    This isn’t a poem.

    It’s a truth that’s been festering too long.

    Just so you know it’s not hard to let transgender people exist. It’s not hard to let any minority exist. Especially at work, where the only thing anyone should care about is whether or not we’re doing our damn jobs.

    I’ve never once forced anyone to call me by my name or my pronouns. But Axton is my legal name. So if you wanna call me by my birth name, figure it out, babygirl. You’d still be too scared to say it to me. And I bet $100 bucks you couldn’t even pronounce it.

    I’ve never cornered someone, never demanded, never begged for respect. I don’t give a rat’s ass, honestly, but we’ll get to that. If you choose not to use my name or pronouns, that’s on you.

    But here’s the thing if you can’t show me common human decency, I don’t owe you any either. And when you’re a coward about it, I don’t get the same chance to return the disrespect, or the chance to be the bigger person and not act like an 8th grader who is in my at least third decade of life.

    It’s not even about the pronouns. It’s about the fake. The ones too scared to stand up and say it with their chest, who suddenly find courage the second they think it’s safe to be a little bigot bitch.

    They laugh with you, the “we’re cool” smiles melting into whispers as soon as you walk away. The stale energy when you walk in. The way they act like you can’t hear them. As if they aren’t obvious. Yet somehow, they never have the guts to be real about their transphobia when they’ve had every chance.

    I’m really not stupid.

    My ears don’t shut off when I leave the room. But your mouth sure seems to work better when I’m not around.

    You think I don’t know? Please. I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night.

    If you don’t respect me, fine. Be real about it. I’d have way more respect for the person who misgenders me to my face than the one who waits until my back is turned. Because that kind of cowardice? That’s lower than bigotry. That’s weakness.

    I’ve worked at a lot of nursing homes… some as agency, others as staff… and I’ve seen transphobia in every single one. It slides under the radar almost every time, even when you bring it to the right people. One place even had a specific anti-bigotry clause in their handbook.

    Yet when two aides started telling everyone I was a delusional woman who says she is a man yet “has a pussy,” HR never got back to me. I called weeks later and was told that “the problem” said everything was fine now. Sure it was. So I quit. I don’t have to deal with sexual harassment. Since when do we ask the problem if there’s still a problem?

    Someone always says, “Hey Axton, I heard this said about you…”

    Funny how nobody ever knows who said it though. Just a pile of whispers, recycled jokes, and other people discussing that I’m trans, calling me a tranny, or exclaiming “I did not know Axton was a woman!” As if they’re not just announcing my anatomy to the world.

    Let’s get one thing straight: you refusing to call me Axton or a man doesn’t change my LEGAL name or LEGAL gender. Just like saying trans people don’t exist doesn’t erase our existence.

    It doesn’t shave the beard off my face which, by the way, probably looks better than your man’s, your dad’s, and yours combined. Yes I see the hair on your face, bold of you to be transphobic with all that. (Body and facial hair on woman is awesome unless she is a bigot!)

    You don’t have that kind of power. You never did. Whose delusional?

    When you bring that childish energy into a workspace, that’s where I draw the line. We don’t have to be friends. We don’t even have to like each other. We are here to do nothing but our job. But it’s not hard to be a respectful person.

    And for the record, I’m no narc. I wouldn’t turn you in or start a fight if you said it to my face. I might buy you a drink and congratulate you for being the first one honest enough to do it.

    At least then, you’d be standing on your own bullshit instead of hiding behind a nervous laugh and a whisper.

    And that’s the real difference.

    I can handle a bigot.

    But a coward? That’s worse.

    Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about being liked.

    It’s about existing in peace while earning a paycheck.

    It’s about basic decency… something you’d think would be easy by now.

    So if you can’t respect me, fine.

    But don’t mistake your cowardice for morality.

    Because I’m still here.

    And your whisper will never be louder than that.

    I’ll be here waiting for you to say it to my face.

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  • I Am the Echo: A Transgender Memorial Poem by Axton N. O. Mitchell

    I Am the Echo: A Transgender Memorial Poem by Axton N. O. Mitchell

    “I am the Echo”
    An Original Poem by Axton N.O. Mitchell

    I am not the scream,

    not even the shout.

    I am the echo no one warned you about.

    You hear the bang, then the boom.

    You think it’s over much too soon.

    I am the echo

    of dead transgender men,

    laid to rest beneath markers

    that never quite said who they were.

    Erased at every turn,

    even in death.

    I am the echo that won’t let you forget

    names like:

    Sam Nordquist,

    Brandon Teena,

    Codii Lawrence,

    Arlo Huber,

    Nex Benedict,

    and so many others

    we’ve buried far too early.

    I am not their scream,

    I am not their shout, 

    those belong to them alone.

    But their echo lives on in my existence.

    In every breath I take,

    I speak their piece.

    Black background wrinkled with trans color font & trans symbol

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  • Published: The Men Who Are Trans + My First Feature in Forever With Pride

    Published: The Men Who Are Trans + My First Feature in Forever With Pride


    This journal entry marks the beginning of something I’m genuinely proud of.

    My poem The Men Who Are Trans has been published in the newest issue of Forever With Pride. It appears alongside a feature article. The article dives into my creative work, my love of poetry, zines, and even a little nod to rock hounding. This piece is more than just a publication. It marks the first month of a yearlong partnership with the magazine. I couldn’t imagine a better way to begin.

    This poem, in particular, is tender and rooted. It’s a quiet thank-you to the men like me. These are trans men who remember what it’s like to be hurt by someone who was supposed to love them. They use that memory as a guide for how to love others with care and intention.

    The simps who brood over you while staring at the moon.
    They forget to text you
    back while writing verses
    about their favorite muse,
    You.

    The feature article introduces readers to my broader body of work. It includes my handmade items, prompt journals, and e-books over on Etsy. It also shares my deep love for nature and ritual. Additionally, it highlights the thread of advocacy that runs through everything I create. It’s rare to find a publication that understands you completely. They see you not just as a writer, but as a whole, layered person. Forever With Pride does just that.

    You can read the full poem and feature here:

    👉 https://foreverwithpride.com/forever-with-pride-e-magazine/

    I’ll be contributing to Forever With Pride every month for the next year. I’m excited and honestly a little emotional. I’m thinking about where this journey might go. Thank you for being here. Whether you’ve been reading my work for a while or you just found me through something here, it means a great deal to me. Your support matters greatly.


    links Another Publishing Submit to Quarterly