(content warning: politics, suicide, living as trans.)
Note: This is not formal psychiatric advice; it is simple observation from my own experience. If you are to the point where you fear you could harm yourself, please seek help from a licensed counselor or therapist; I did, and it saved my life. And if you are in imminent danger and fear you are suicidal or about to harm yourself, here are some hotlines you can contact if you are in the US:
“Hello, my siblings under the pink, white, and blue… how are you doing today? Are you taking care of yourself? I know it’s a rough time, friends… but when your very existence is viewed as a transgressive act, every day you live is a little rebellion against the state. Remember the Turlough Principle, my siblings: “You must survive. Too many enemies would delight in your death.” In other words, my buddies and beauties, let your life be a middle finger to those who desperately need it - because so many desperately need it. Stay alive, my friends; stay alive. And, in that vein, it’s time to dig deep and to get down; here’s Barry, Robin, and Maurice, the Bee Gees, with “Stayin’ Alive”!”
As we approach the Dark Ages of the Trump Presidency, I am reminded of just how dark the last weeks and months before publicly coming out were.
I’ve mentioned in an earlier post just what the end of 2021 and beginning of 2022 was like for me. I had lost hope. My transition had stalled, I couldn’t see a good reason to go on… I very nearly lost my life in those days.
It was the “not seeing a good reason to go on” that really scared me. This was about a 7 or 8 on the suicidality scale. I’m not sure I can describe how it feels. Most of us have something that pulls us back from the edge in our difficult moments. All of a sudden I was in a difficult situation, and found… nothing. It felt very much like rock climbing, and finding out halfway through that the safety harness was faulty. The parts of my psyche that kept me reasonably safe through past depressive moments weren’t there anymore, and the wrong move could be disastrous.
I knew I was in trouble, but still at a point where I could take steps to fight it. In general, a person who is suicidal knows they’re in trouble… but how do you ask for help? I didn’t see myself in immediate danger, so I didn’t contact a suicide hotline; this was a mistake on my part, as the suicide hotline could have at least guided me to a safer place. But I knew I needed to act, and quickly. I could not see a good reason to go on.
So… I came up with a bad reason. One of the problems with my job at the time was that I made adversaries. This was, sadly, normal; I would have to make decisions others wouldn’t be happy with, and some people did not take this well, and would act out in response. This was one factor that pushed me so close to the edge, as those aspects of my job - their actions, and some ramifications from those actions - were interfering with my transition.
I turned that into motivation to keep on going. If I gave up, if I ended my life, I had little doubt they would gleefully step over my dead body. In living to make sure I was still there, that they would not break me, I let my life, my continued existence, be a middle finger to them. I might die, but I wasn’t going to die quietly.
The embodiment of this for me came in the form of a Doctor Who quote, one said by a character by the name of Turlough, speaking in the Doctor’s fever dreams as he lay dying:
“You must survive. Too many of your enemies would delight in your death.”
— Turlough (played by Mark Strickson), Doctor Who, “The Caves of Androzani”.
I’d watched Doctor Who with the fervor of a zealot while growing up; I’d heard those words dozens of times. And, when I needed them the most, those words came back to me. These aren’t words of lofty goals and higher principles. These aren’t words that speak to faith or justice - in fact, these are words devoid of any higher power, nor make any claim to justice. This is hardscrabble hope, the spiteful “fuck you” to a world where justice is scarce, a firm statement that says that death may come to me, but my life will not be freely given.
Note: If it’s a bad reason that keeps you from ending it all, it’s not a bad reason.
Unfortunately, spite can only take you so far. I was under no illusions that this could be a long-term fix. But it bought me the one thing I desperately needed: Time. With the time it bought, I was able to seek help; I found a counselor willing to work with me, and slowly I was able to walk back from the edge. When another crisis erupted in mid-March of 2022, I was better prepared to handle it. I publicly came out the following month, in April, went full-time in June, and I haven’t been close to the edge since.
I made it through. Not everyone is as lucky.
And there are others who will seek to burn through any luck we have.
The suicidality statistics for trans people are appalling. It is estimated that 42% of trans people have attempted suicide in their lifetime. Moreover, the overwhelming evidence is that the primary reason for this suicidality is not from being trans, but specifically from being in a non-supportive or hostile environment.
Unfortunately, with the moves from conservative politicians, with their stripping away of our human rights, they seek to create the impossible - to craft a world without trans people. A world where we quietly fade away, quietly die. And once we as individuals are gone, the story is taken out of our hands; as its members have done at many points throughout history, western society will try to bury our existence as though we never were. We’re just beginning to understand how much of genderqueer history has been erased or glossed over, from trans women singing hymns to Inanna to Berlin’s pre-Nazi-era trans community.
The next few years will not be easy ones for us. By their own admission, they want to “eradicate transgenderism” - and, given that being trans isn’t a choice, there’s only one way that happens. To survive, as individuals and as a community, it is going to take love, it is going to take resilience, it is going to take guile and creativity, it is going to take resistance both quiet and loud, and it is going to take effort to establish and keep those bonds of community open.
Learn from previous generations, my siblings. Not just previous generations of trans activists, but previous generations of other gay and lesbian activists, previous generations of black activists, and previous generations from every marginalized group throughout history.
The first rule: Stay alive. Do not obey in advance by giving up. If sheer, unadulterated spite keeps you from exploring that undiscovered country, great. If looking forward to the next season of your favorite television show keeps you here, awesome. If creating the perfect work of art or writing the Next Great Fantasy Novel or even seeking out the perfect cup of tea fights back the darkness, even if only for a little while, spiffy. In that quirkiness, in that passion, in that beauty, let your life be a middle finger to those who desperately deserve it - and let that keep you here until community and counseling can help you stay here.
It’s going to get tougher, my siblings. Dark times are ahead. Right now, too many enemies would delight in your death.
Don’t give them the pleasure.
I’ve heard others give their “You must survive” addresses; this is mine, and it is by no means the most definitive on the subject. Charlie Jane Anders wrote an entire book on the subject, one I strongly recommend. For a more recent example, Tilly Bridges addressed this subject far more eloquently and passionately than I ever could. I think my take on this might be just a bit different, though not necessarily unique; no doubt the quirkier parts of this essay were at least somewhat influenced by Kate Bornstein’s Hello, Cruel World. I’ve written about parts of these events elsewhere, and referenced this elsewhere; I’m just adding a bit more detail for relevance.