In a world where statistics often tell stories, a 2020 poll by Ipsos recently caught my attention and revealed a startling truth: over half of Americans reported not knowing a single trans person. Another 22% answered “unsure,” or refused to answer. In sum, it amounts to a staggering statistic:
Just 29% of adults say they know someone who is transgender, according to new research (2022) from Morning Consult and The Trevor Project. Just 17% know someone who is nonbinary.
That's more than just a number; it's a stark reminder of the invisibility and isolation many nonbinary and trans individuals face in society. Attempts to further exlcude trans and nonbinary people have been rising steadily in recent years, as fear-mongering about trans people is used to deny us access to healthcare, workplace protections, safe places to use the restroom, and the ability to participate in sports.
Hi, I'm Atlas Wylde, and I am a nonbinary trans person.
As one of only an estimated 0.6% of Americans who identify as trans, I’m realizing more and more that my perspective and experiences as a trans person are not only foreign to most cisgender people, but they are critical to call attention to. I understand firsthand the importance of visibility activism—showing up authentically as a form of contributing to social change.
The statistics mentioned above aren't just numbers to me; they represent a call to action. They remind me of the pivotal role visibility plays in shaping attitudes and perceptions. For far too long, trans and gender non-conforming individuals have been marginalized, our voices silenced by a society that fails to acknowledge our existence. But we are here, just as we always have been throughout history, and our stories deserve to be heard.
Before I knew I was trans, while I was still in grade school, I came out as a queer person. At the time I did so in 2004, attitudes toward gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual and polysexual people were changing, but widespread support for marriage equality was far from won. I was coming of age in a time where my sexuality created awkward encounters and inspired jeers and exclusion.
I was 23 when the Supreme Court ruled on the Obergefell v. Hodges case, outlawing discrimination against same-sex relationships on a Federal level, and codifying queer marriage equality into United State law. As a result of this timeline, I am someone who has experienced both acceptance and hostility with regards to my sexuality, and I came to intimately know the power of visibility.
I've seen how societal attitudes towards queer individuals have evolved over the years, thanks in part to increased visibility and advocacy. But while progress has been made for some members of the LGBTQ+ community, trans, nonbinary, and gender-nonconforming individuals continue to face discrimination and violence at alarming rates.
In 2024, over 285 anti-LGBTQ+ bills were introduced in America as of a report made on January 19th. In less than three weeks, almost 300 bills were introduced, a majority of which specifically target trans and gender nonconforming individuals. The strategic, calculated, combined effort of these bills is to erase trans people from public life, and deny us access to vital resources and healthcare. It's a sobering reality that demands attention and solidarity.
As discouraging and overwhelming as these facts are to trans peoples, amidst the challenges, hope remains. Just as attitudes towards queer individuals shifted over time, so too can perceptions of trans and nonbinary people. It starts with visibility—with meeting a trans person and understanding that we are your siblings, cousins, neighbors, and friends. It's about recognizing our humanity and standing with us in our fight for equality.
As Martin Luther once said,
Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.
For me, visibility is my apple tree—a symbol of resilience and hope in the face of adversity. Our forward progress depends on protestors and legislators, artists and advocates, athletes and teachers and religious leaders. I have the gift of being able to use words to tell my story, and this is my role: to be visible as a trans and nonbinary person, to live a full and robust life, and to refuse to hide. And I'm not alone. Countless trans and nonbinary individuals are planting their own apple trees, each one contributing to a brighter, more inclusive future.
Still, trans people cannot do it alone. We need allies who are willing to stand with us, to amplify our voices, and to challenge the systems of oppression that seek to silence us. Whether it's through supporting organizations, advocating for policy change, or simply being a friend, everyone has a role to play in advancing visibility and acceptance.
Many of our allies are still waiting for the moment that opens their eyes to our plight, that inspires them to change their heart and support our causes. This is the importance of being visible. Not just of doing traditional “activism” work, but of simply living, working, relating, and participating AS a trans person. My willingness to be seen allows those in my small community to know me, it allows them to help us tip the scale in support of trans folks, moving the needle past the current statistics until one day, a majority of Americans can confidently say that they know a trans person.
Trans people come from all walks of life, and to the extent that we can do so safely, when we show up as we are, we add our humanity to the narrative. We invite our communities to know us and to love us; we invite them to root for us, to understand us; we invite them to to know more than a distant, mostly-fabricated story designed to frighten them. We invite them to grow and to expand and to make the future brighter.
“The clear association between adults knowing someone who holds a particular LGBTQ identity and feeling comfortable with that identity emphasizes the need to amplify trans voices, increase the diversity of LGBTQ representation in media, and improve public education around sexual orientation and gender identity.” Quote by Amit Paley, Chief Executive of The Trevor Project.
So, to those who are reading, thank you, and I ask for your continued support. Whether it's through supporting my personal work on Patreon, sharing this message, or simply educating yourself more on trans issues, every action matters. Together, our collective actions can tip the scale towards understanding and acceptance, ensuring that future generations of trans and nonbinary individuals can live authentically and without fear.
The older I get, the more I am confronted with the unique nature of existing in a cisgender world as a transgender person. I am trans, and that matters. It matters that I be able to say that.
Thank you for standing with trans people. We have a right to exist as our fullest selves, and now more than ever before your support will write history.