Kiki Lemke
After graduating high school and beginning college in a period of the COVID pandemic’s social isolation, a special excitement was in the air as Kat and their friends got ready to go to their school formal during their college sophomore year. Not only was Kat finally free to go to a school dance, after both senior prom and their freshman year dance were too unsafe to attend, but for the first time, they got to dress in a way that coincided with their queer trans identity. Kat cites this now as a “specific moment of gender euphoria.”
“I actually got to dress how I wanted to dress,” he says. Kat put on a turtleneck and a snazzy suit. Mixing the expected roles of masculine gender presentation, Kat put on some makeup as well. To top it off, they gave themself a little mustache. Kat’s friends hyped up their confidence even more, telling them, “You look so good!” and Kat felt the exact same. Remembering the moment fondly, Kat says: “I was like yeah, like I felt hot, I felt cool. If I had to describe gender euphoria, it would be just that, like dang, I feel confident in who I am right now. I feel like younger me would see me and be like, oh my god, this is so cool!”
Everyone deserves to feel comfortable and confident in their own skin, but for transgender people in Georgia, experiencing this feeling of gender euphoria is becoming less accessible and less safe. Though Atlanta has dubbed itself the “LGBTQ+ capital of the South,” this queer city resides in what has recently been the increasingly anti-LGBTQ (and especially anti-transgender) state of Georgia1. Conservative politicians have made restrictions on gender-affirming care a party priority; more than 20 states have recently passed bans on gender-affirming healthcare, including Georgia2. Georgia Republican Gov. Brian Kemp signed SB 140 in March, which prohibits some gender-affirming care for minors, claiming the law would “ensure we protect the health and wellbeing of Georgia’s children.”3 Since July of 2023, transgender youths (under 18 years) have been effectively banned from beginning gender-affirming healthcare4. From December 2022 to October 2023, the State of Georgia has been in a lawsuit from state workers’ who were denied use of their health insurance for gender-affirming care5. In the summer of 2022, organizers had no choice but to shut down a rally for transgender rights after receiving specific death threats6. These laws across the U.S. specifically attacking transgender youth are usually contested or even overturned for being unconstitutional, but their continuous cropping up has still needlessly complicated the lives of such a small and already-vulnerable group of people (about 1.18% of teenagers in Georgia age 13-17 are estimated to be transgender7). The G.O.P. has effectively waged a culture war against transgender people to secure the vote of the religious majority of their party8. This recently-enacted legislation goes beyond the scope of keeping children and adolescents in Georgia from medically transitioning; it has sparked a period of increased danger for all transgender people in the state.
Kat, a senior student in political science and gender studies, has a youthful face decorated with piercings and framed by short wavy reddish blond hair. He sports a few eccentric tattoos and styles himself in a funky-patterned button-down shirt and dangling banana earrings. He is trans and non-binary, and he uses they/he pronouns. He has put forth a lot of effort on his campus in mobilizing LGBTQ+ civil engagement, including a pride panel and a gender-affirming haircare event.
“To understand [gender-affirming care],” Kat tells me, “I would probably contrast it with the concept of reproductive justice, because with that, it’s not just access to abortion. It is definitely about that, but it’s also about being able to have childcare and being able to have your children not just survive but thrive, should you choose to have children, and to be able to have consistent access to reproductive healthcare, not just abortions, but also gynecological care, anything like that. So the way that I would describe gender-affirming care – yes, it is about haircuts and hormones, if you really want to put it that way, but to me it’s not just about physical appearance and therapy and things like that. It’s also being able to thrive in different realms. As a professional, it’s knowing you will be respected and heard as a queer or trans person in that space. I think with, of course, medical care, feeling like I’m not going to be discriminated against because of my identity, and I will get care that both meets my biological needs while also affirming who I am and who I feel like I am. And also being able to go into a store, and clothing shopping, and not having to feel constrained to the whole men’s aisle or women’s aisle, and also not feeling like whatever is the gender neutral aisle isn’t just navy blue hoodies and gray tee shirts – you know what I mean? To me, gender-affirming care…gives you the comfortability and security that you need to be able to move through every facet of your life,” Kat explains.
Kat comes from Barnesville, Georgia, which he describes as a small, rural, conservative town. Reflecting on his adolescent years, he says, “ I don’t even really know if I saw a future for myself.” They explain, “I was just constantly trying to mask all my differences and make sure I was fitting in to what people thought was okay. What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t really know what my life was going to be like ‘cause I was kind of happy with just letting myself go with whatever people wanted me to do…I was very very closeted when I was younger. I went through a very much ‘hyper-feminine’ presentation phase, and it wasn’t until the COVID lockdowns and everything like that at the peak, when I actually cut my hair – because I used to have, like, 20 inches of long curly hair, and I got it cut – that was so liberating. And then I think I finally realized that I don’t have to just be in this box. The world is bigger than just this one small town…”
Like many other trans people, Kat can attest to the difficulties of being trans in a state whose Republican majority legislature has waged a culture war against trans individuals, but it does not stop him from self exploration, nor does it stop him from presenting in ways that feel gender-affirming for him. “While expressing myself, and recognizing my gender identity, being open with that, and actually presenting myself – to an extent – how I want to present, I feel like it’s expanded my access. I am finally getting involved in different queer spaces, and it’s really cool … while it doesn’t deny me access to different spaces, I feel like I have to be a lot more careful and guarded in doing anything,” he says.
There was one sobering moment in particular that reminded Kat of how careful they have to be. In the summer of 2022, Kat had been preparing for a trans justice rally that spawned from the anti-transgender bills being proposed at the time, which are now being implemented in Georgia. Kat had been nervous, but definitely excited, about participating in this rally, only to find out it had been canceled. There had been a lot of opposition to fighting for transgender rights, and some anonymous transphobes had posed death threats to the organizers. Though there are always risks in political protests, these threats were too specific for them to even cautiously proceed with the rally. On this situation, Kat says, “so this was obviously really f***ed up and scary. And part of me was like… we have to keep going; this is part of it, interacting with this sphere. But I think it is still really exhausting to navigate this dynamic of being an ally and advocate and also trying to care for yourself and others. You have to be aware of the fact that, hey, while the media may ramp up or play down some different aspects of this, there are threats all the time just for us having our different identities.”
Another trans student I spoke with, Reeve, has socially transitioned and is now medically transitioning. He rocks a short red-dyed mullet and a smattering of tattoos. He is a sociology major who plays guitar and acts in the shadow cast of the local Rocky Horror Picture Show on the side. Having grown up in Alpharetta, North Fulton County, he, too, has faced danger for existing as an openly queer and trans person in Georgia.
Years ago, Reeve was a passenger in a friend’s car as they were driving through Blue Ridge. “We were in the middle of absolutely nowhere,” he describes. Reeve and his friend were traveling through that tiny mountain road, with nothing but a guardrail protecting them from a sharp drop off the side of a cliff, when someone started tailgating them. They started to suspect the source of this aggression might have been the pride sticker on the back of Reeve’s friend’s car. For miles and miles, they kept switching lanes, but the man kept following them. Eventually, he pulled up right next to them, in a move that could have only been an attempt to run Reeve and his friend off the road. The aggressor rolled down his window and yelled at them. Reeve did not roll down his window, not caring what this man wanted to berate him with. The only thing Reeve did make out was “f***ing f***ots,” and in that moment, a hard truth hit him: “the world is not a very safe place for people like me right now.”
Reeve describes how they navigate their openly queer life in Georgia: “I came out as queer when I was 14. I was still very much in the church, and there was this huge backlash towards that when that happened. Ultimately I was like, ehh, I don’t think I want to be a part of this anymore,” Reeve says. “But as an adult, realizing that I am trans has been a process that has taken 10 years for me to begrudgingly accept…Even just from 2 years ago, where my life is now is just so vastly different than where I thought I would end up…growing up in the South and being a queer person, I went through a lot of, you know, really difficult s***. I was fired from my first job for being queer…I lost all of my friends; all of my friends’ parents were like, you’re not allowed to see Reeve anymore – Reeve is dangerous and a bad influence, and all this other s***. Going through that as a 14 year old, as horrible as that was, I think that that’s taught me a lot of resilience and now as an adult, I am just kind of very good at navigating that kind of thing now. I know who to trust; I know who not to trust. I know how to protect myself in a social way and extend that to other people.”
Kat recalls a moment when someone outwardly disrespected them for their trans identity: “In my SCALE [internship] site, I remembered this big weird moment for me. I did SCALE at the Atlanta Women’s Foundation. And I went in there very open at the fact, like hey, I am trans. And things were going well for a little bit, but then at one point, I remember they had brought us in for a meeting or something with their board of financial advisors… I made a comment ‘cause I was feeling like I could actually engage, and then the CEO of the Atlanta Women’s Foundation was quoting me…after it was done, I told her, ‘just for the future, my pronouns are they/he.’ And then I remember, she literally laughed and was like ‘…okay,’ and then changed the subject.” He laughs, “I was like alright, y’all kinda lame for that.” As much as Kat can let it roll off their back now, they remember how disheartening it was to be disregarded that way: “That was a humiliating feeling. Gender dysphoria comes out for me in a lot of small moments like that. At my job last summer, it wasn’t necessarily safe to come out, and I dressed in ways people think of as more feminine, so I got hit with the ‘she/her’ a lot. But if it’s happening like that, in something that’s not a heavily personal context, I can usually brush it off and just pin it for later, you know. I remember in that moment at my [internship] site just being like oh my gosh this is really weird and…painful. The reason I highlight that one moment so much is because I completely disengaged with that internship site afterwards…I just had no motivation to continue with the projects. I was the only openly trans or gender nonconforming person [in my] group. It felt like everyone could keep going and still be excited and engaged, but I felt like I just tripped over this huge rock or something, like I’m here struggling to just pretend to be engaged with this. I really wish I had stood up for myself. Experiences like that are way too common.”
With multiple discouraging experiences like this, Kat says he prefers to focus on good moments instead. “On the flip side I had an internship over the past spring at the Carter Center and they were so loving and accepting, genuinely. Usually when people see me, because of my physique, people tend to lean towards the ‘they,’ I think, but obviously it’s ‘they/he’ for a reason. People actually interchanged them at that place. Even when people did misgender me sometimes because, I get it, accidents happen, the actual program director was like, hey, we need to be respectful of our team members, so jot this down, these are Kat’s pronouns. I remember that, not exactly feeling cognizant of the feeling of gender euphoria, but that really made me feel like I am my complete self. I can express myself how I want to and still be that b***h and still get everything done,” he says.
Reeve also describes a happier moment for him, when he had started being a part of the Rocky Horror shadow cast. He says performing in Rocky Horror for the past year has been “the most gender euphoric thing ever because everybody here is trans, and everybody here is doing drag, and everybody is so happy to be here, and it’s such a fabulous expression of queer joy.” He tells me about a particularly euphoric moment for him while acting: “The first time I ever performed on stage with this production was back in January or February, and I played Eddie, who is the Meatloaf character,” Reeve explains, “And he rides a motorcycle, and he plays the saxophone, and he is, apart from Frankenfurter, the coolest character in the movie. He sings the best song in the whole show, and then he immediately gets murdered. Being able to put on this leather jacket and this wig, run out on that stage, and have everybody in the audience absolutely go nuts, and really be able to lean into that hypermasculine…character. Being able to do that was so euphoric for me…I had just started going by they/them pronouns exclusively at that point for maybe a couple of weeks, so I wasn’t used to hearing that when people would refer to me. I remember he said, at the end of my show when I was about to take a bow, ‘And for their first time, Reeve as Eddie,’ and that was one of the happiest moments in recent memory.”
Trans people may have a lot of reasons for using hormone therapy or not. Kat says, “I think about that all the time…I have thought about hormones and that kind of thing…It’s something that really intimidates me…The reason I haven’t gone through that yet is because I am worried, not so much about how I would physically change…but I wonder how my relationships with different systems would change, and with different people in my life too…I do wonder, if I started testosterone, and my voice got deeper, how would my grandparents and my mom react to that? ‘Cause I don’t really think they would be super welcoming of that at first.”
Reeve, the other transgender student whom I spoke with, has recently started taking testosterone. He did not come to the decision easily, though. He had a lot of fear of whether he would welcome all the changes that come with hormone therapy, worrying that he would feel less attractive for physically showing his inner masculinity. He explains, “I was a chubby kid, I was a chubby toddler, I think I was in the 90th percentile for weight when I was born, so I’ve always been a bigger person. And as a teenager, kind of learning to accept that – that my body just always going to look like this, and that’s fine – I feel like a lot of people, myself included, kind of lean into this very hyper-feminine sort of presentation. If you exist in a bigger body, that’s more socially acceptable, to kind of be this very hyper-feminine, almost maternal figure, I suppose. And when I realized, oh, that’s not actually who I am or what I want for myself, I kind of just didn’t have a reference point for…the person that I could be.” However, it has been worth it for him; he says starting testosterone has been “fan-f***ing-tastic.” He says he has been seriously thinking about it for about a year now, and that he realized he is trans in an “oh s*** moment,” while driving back from his parents’ house after seeing them with his girlfriend. He says, “…we were in the car, and I just kind of had this moment of realization where I was like, I don’t think I’m ever going to be truly happy until I can grow a mustache and have people perceive me as a dude. And then I was like, that’s not a thought that a cisgender person has…Following that, I had about 8 months of [considering], do I want to transition, or do I not want to transition, what are the pros, what are the cons? As I’m easing myself into this identity, and more socially transitioning, getting people to call me something else, and, you know, changing the way that I dress, and the way that I present myself: that kind of allowed me to be like okay, this feels good, I can take it to the next step now. And, you know, I’ve literally been on T for a week; I haven’t noticed any drastic changes obviously…but being able to have the opportunity to do that and know that this is happening, these changes are coming soon, my life is about to get so much better, has been really really wonderful.” We must never forget that trans people have to overcome the fears of risking their own safety and relationships to be “out” as trans. Seeking hormone therapy and other physically gender-affirming measures is a risk – Reeve says he knows at least four people personally who have been kicked out of their homes for being trans. But people do take those risks when the alternative is never being content and comfortable in their own bodies, the way everyone wants to be.
Finding queer community can be life-changing for transgender and other LGBTQ+ people. Reeve particularly emphasizes the importance of finding other southern queer people. “There is such a thriving queer community in the south, and especially in the city of Atlanta,” he says. “I think that being both a queer person and a southerner, having those two identities together, has certainly taught me a lot of resilience. I see that in the people around me as well. There’s such a strong alliance that I feel with southern queers versus queers from everywhere else. It’s like, oh, you can cook really good mac and cheese, and you’ve probably seen a thing or two.” Reeve laughs. “We’ve all had to look out for each other. I’ve had friends who have slept on my couch when they were homeless, and when I got fired from being queer at my first job, the people who helped me up were other queer people that I knew. It’s hard in a lot of ways, but I think that the community aspect of it is so wonderful and so beautiful. Southern queers are fantastic.”
Trans people and their support systems are not taking lightly the decision to seek hormone therapy and other gender-affirming care. Why should the state have a say? The assumption is that transitioning cannot be made too accessible, but it has never been such, and it has never been easy to be transgender in the United States. However, there is joy in resistance. Reeve says, “…people would like us to not exist completely, or if we do, be in hiding and be f***ing miserable. When you’re a trans person, and you are happy, and you have a good life that you have made for yourself, and you have a good network of support, you are doing all the things that you want to do, that is a form of social justice in itself.” Even as it is getting harder to exist as a trans person, trans people are still coming out, and they are still seeking gender affirming care. And through it all, they are trying to live rich and fruitful lives. Kat wants people to know, “Being trans is awesome. We’re not just defined by the bad things that happen to us.”
- Toni Odejimi, “How the Big Peach Became the LGBTQ+ Capital of the South,” The Atlanta Voice, July 6, 2022, https://theatlantavoice.com/how-the-big-peach-became-the-lgbtq-capital-of-the-south/. ↩︎
- Mizelle, Shawna. “Federal Judge Restores Part of Georgia’s Law That Had Banned Gender-Affirming Care for Trans Youth | CNN Politics.” CNN, September 6, 2023. https://www.cnn.com/2023/09/06/politics/gender-affirming-care-georgia-ban/index.html. ↩︎
- Ibid “Federal Judge Restores Part of Georgia’s Law That Had Banned Gender-Affirming Care for Trans Youth | CNN Politics.” CNN, September 6, 2023. https://www.cnn.com/2023/09/06/politics/gender-affirming-care-georgia-ban/index.html. ↩︎
- Mizelle, Shawna. “Federal Judge Restores Part of Georgia’s Law That Had Banned Gender-Affirming Care for Trans Youth | CNN Politics.” CNN, September 6, 2023. https://www.cnn.com/2023/09/06/politics/gender-affirming-care-georgia-ban/index.html. ↩︎
- Associated Press, “Georgia Agrees to Pay for Gender-Affirming Care for Public Employees, Settling a Lawsuit,” NBCNews.com, October 20, 2023, https://www.nbcnews.com/nbc-out/out-news/georgia-agrees-pay-gender-affirming-care-public-employees-settling-law-rcna121395. ↩︎
- Associated Press, “Anti-LGBTQ Threats Orchestrated on the Internet Shut down Trans Rights and Drag Events,” NBCNews.com, June 18, 2022, https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/anti-lgbtq-threats-orchestrated-on-internet-shut-down-events-rcna33955. ↩︎
- Herman, Jody L, et al. “How Many Adults and Youth Identify as Transgender in the United States?” The Williams Institute, June 2022, williamsinstitute.law.ucla.edu/publications/trans-adults-united-states/. ↩︎
- Garcia-Navarro, Lulu, and Daniel Thatcher. “Why the G.O.P.’s Attack on Trans Rights Could Backfire on the Party.” The New York Times, Accessed 9 Dec. 2023. ↩︎
Be First to Comment