To Pick on Trans (People)

Let’s be honest: It’s easy to get worked up about trans people. It’s a simple, convenient, and—dare I say—comforting outrage. A distraction. A moral panic wrapped in the illusion of certainty.

But here’s the problem. The moment you stop and actually examine why trans identity unsettles you, you realize something unsettling in return: It’s not about them. It’s about you.

See, when someone challenges the idea of what a “man” or a “woman” is, they’re also challenging something much bigger—the idea that identity is fixed, that you are who you’ve always been told you are, that you are standing on solid ground—something that won’t ever change.

And that’s terrifying.

So… instead of wrestling with the implications of that—of what it means to be truly ourselves, to be unbound from expectation and tradition—we lash out. We ridicule. We pretend that this whole conversation is about a bathroom sign, a sports team, or a pronoun.

It’s not.

You Are Not Who You Think You Are

The truth is, we all struggle with identity—we just don’t like to admit it. And it’s much easier to point fingers at someone else’s transformation than to acknowledge how fragile our own sense of self really is.

You don’t think you struggle with identity? Fine. Let’s put that to the test.

The high-powered business leader who retires and suddenly realizes they have no idea who they are without their role to fulfill.

The mother who poured everything into her children, only to find herself lost when they no longer need her the same way.

The “responsible one”—the kid who had to grow up too fast, who became “the reliable one” but never got to ask what they actually wanted.

These are all examples of stolen identities, not by choice, but by expectation, by necessity, by the quiet weight of “who you’re supposed to be.”

The Ego Loves a Scapegoat

Here’s something you won’t like to hear: When you judge someone else for their identity struggle, it’s often because you don’t want to confront your own.

Your ego loves to point fingers. It loves to believe that the problem is “out there,” that the world would be just fine if everyone else would simply fall in line and “fix their shit.” That’s not true.

The real crisis isn’t gender identity. It’s identity, period. It’s the millions of people living lives they didn’t choose, following scripts they didn’t write, clinging to labels that were handed to them at birth like an inheritance they never asked for.

And when you see someone step off that script? Change their name? Choose a different path? It shakes something in you. It forces you to ask:

• Who told me who I am?
• What parts of myself have I buried to fit in?
• If I weren’t afraid, what would the real me really look like?

It’s Not Them—It’s You

Trans people aren’t dangerous. They’re not a threat to society, or morality, or whatever tradition you think is under attack. If so, your “God” (who created them) is pretty small. 

What’s actually threatening is the idea that identity is fluid. That who you are isn’t set in stone. That you, too, could change.

And if that thought makes you uncomfortable, don’t blame them.

Blame the version of you that’s too afraid to  break free to pursue the real you as you point fingers at others who do.