Ignored, Isolated, and Angry: The Reality of Being Trans in 2025

Does No One Care? The Silence in the Face of Hatred

Since Trump won the election and stepped into the White House, issuing anti-Trans executive orders, I can't really recally any one person reaching out to check on me.

No friends. No work colleagues. No one.

The only exception is my boss, who is awesome. But aside from that? Silence.

Maybe it’s because I put on a strong front. Maybe people see me posting every day, pushing back against the anti-Trans rhetoric, sharing actual truths about what it means to be Trans, and assume I’m fine. Maybe they see my resilience and think I don’t need checking in on.

But I’ve also shared my fears. My worries. My anger. I’ve written some deeply vulnerable blogs—pieces where I’ve cracked open my soul and laid it bare. And still, no one has reached out.

Which leaves me wondering: Is no one even reading the words I put out into the world? Does no one care?

And that’s exactly why I keep my distance from people. Because at some level, I’ve always feared that most people don’t actually care—not really. Or maybe they do care, but they’re too consumed with their own lives to check in on anyone else.

Honestly? I don’t know which of those is worse.

Why Aren’t People Checking In?

Surely, the people in my life know I’m Trans. Surely, they see the hatred being spewed from the White House.

They see the executive orders stripping away healthcare, removing protections, making it clear that the goal is to erase us.

I know that, for now, my healthcare isn’t impacted. Yet. But my federal ID? My gender marker? That’s about to be erased. And this is just the beginning.

So why is no one checking in on those of us who are being directly targeted?

I can think of a few possibilities:

• Maybe they don’t realize how serious this is.

• Maybe they assume I’m strong enough to handle it alone.

• Maybe they don’t want to get involved.

• Maybe they’re scared to even bring it up.

But at the end of the day, silence is just another form of apathy.

Society is fractured, divided into two dominant sides—the ones who hate and the ones who ignore. And honestly? I don’t know which group is doing more damage.

I know there are people who support us. But if they’re out there, why don’t I ever hear from them?

Writing Into the Void

I put my words out there.

People view my blogs. Maybe some even read them. But no one comments. No one responds. No one even offers a single word of empathy.

It feels like people click on the link, see that it’s about something Trans, and then just… move on. As if the existence of my identity is something they don’t even want to think about.

As if I am not worth engaging with.

But now, more than ever, Trans people need support.

Even the strongest of us. Even the most resilient. Even the most stubborn.

Because, believe me, I am all three of those things. But even I need someone to ask, "Hey, are you okay?" every once in a while.

Maybe This Is On Me?

I won’t pretend that I haven’t isolated myself.

The only Trans people I know are through social media groups. I haven’t physically interacted with any, haven’t built an in-person support network.

That’s on me.

And because of that, most of the people I interact with in my daily life don’t understand what it feels like to wake up every morning and wonder what fresh hell Trump has signed into law today.

But even if they don’t understand, do they really need to, in order to show empathy?

I don’t think so. Because caring about someone doesn’t require full understanding—it just requires giving a damn.

Maybe my fear, my anger, my exhaustion makes people uncomfortable, so they don’t bring it up. But the truth is, this discomfort is nothing compared to the reality Trans people are living through.

Dysphoria, Dreams, and the Weight of It All

Maybe this is all feeding into my dreams.

Dysphoria has crept into them again—something I haven’t experienced in years. Last night, I heard my birth name in my dream, something that hasn’t happened in so long.

When I wake up, I know who I am. There is no confusion. But at night, my subconscious is dragging me back to a place I don’t want to be.

And maybe it’s because all of this—**the silence, the apathy, the erasure, the hatred, the fear—**is sitting in me, deeper than I want to admit.

Trump and the Tsunami of Hatred

No one has asked me how it feels to see Trump’s face plastered on the news every single damn day.

How much it angers me.

And look, he is entitled to his beliefs. Even if they’re idiotic, even if they’re uninformed, even if they contradict actual science.

But what gives him the right to try and eradicate my very existence?

And what makes it worse? The smugness. The arrogance. The way he knows he’s hurting people and he enjoys it.

I have rarely felt such strong hatred toward a single person. But with him? I might actually hate him. And that is not something I am proud of.

I hate what he is doing to the Trans community. I hate his wandering, nonsensical diatribes. I hate the way he spreads and encourages hatred.

And I hate that people refuse to stand up to him.

It’s not just his attacks on the Trans community. It’s his attacks on every minority group. And yet, people are still doing nothing.

I am so far beyond angered at the people who still support him. But I am equally angry at those who oppose him but refuse to take action.

How many more attacks will it take before people finally wake up?

Alone Against the Tsunami

I often feel alone.

Like I’m standing in front of this unstoppable tsunami of hatred, and there is no one beside me.

No one to help. No one to support me. No one to even check in.

And the world, at large, seems not to care.