Dear trans survivors, 

Over the past three weeks, our world has turned upside down. COVID-19 has forced us to stay in our homes – that is, those of us who are lucky enough to have homes. We’re missing the first few nice days of the year, and missing each other.

For many trans people, it’s not the first time our lives have suddenly upended, and it’s not the first time we have felt isolation. I haven’t seen another trans person in three weeks, which feels just like the time when I was the only trans person I knew. For many of us, this feeling is a daily reality, and I’m more aware than ever of the strength it takes to know yourself in isolation. 

I wanted to write to trans survivors, especially the ones who are quarantined with their abusers right now. We’re starting to see thinkpieces come out about the reality of being stuck inside with your abuser, and they’re good, but they’re all about straight cis women and I don’t see us reflected anywhere.

I want you to know, firstly, that what you’re experiencing is not just ‘drama’. How many times have we minimized abuse because of the stubborn belief that cis women can’t cause harm? Or because we just feel lucky that cis men will date us? How many times have toxic relationships, that might be called abusive if we were straight, been written off as ‘drama’ because our analysis doesn’t allow for queer people to hurt each other? And how many times have our bodies been the place where the difference between theory and reality is reconciled? 

What does it mean to have a body that is always being reconciled? 

I want you to know that your consent is still mandatory under quarantine. It can be hard to believe in our bodily autonomy when we’re routinely hypersexualized, and when doctors treat us like science experiments. 

When saying no has the potential to cost us our community, or the roof over our head, ‘safety’ and ‘consent’ are ambiguous terms. This is doubly so for trans women, who are often treated as disposable even within trans community. I know trans survivors might be making hard choices with sex right now, but we deserve a world where our sexuality is ours. 

I want you to know that the beauty standards that trans people are held to are ridiculous at the best of times, and close to impossible under quarantine. It’s OK if you haven’t shaved for a few days or a few weeks; your gender identity is still yours. Nobody else gets to name it. It’s OK if you’re binding less or not at all, because who has time for shoulder pain in the apocalypse, and we’re talking about a respiratory virus after all.

I want you to know that you deserve support and access to healing, even though I know that many places still aren’t accessible to trans survivors. You deserve to bring your whole nuanced self to your healing work, and to not worry that it will make service providers uncomfortable or unsettle their analysis of harm. You deserve a shelter if you need one. You deserve to access help without hiding parts of yourself. 

You deserve safety in your home, and you deserve to hide from coronavirus without your identity being called into question, or the fear of being outed. You deserve safety all of the time, and I know that right now, it might be harder to come by than ever. 

WAVAW is here for you, and we believe you. Even if you’ve never named what you’re experiencing as abuse; even if you have named it and chosen to stay. Even if you’re worried about getting another queer in trouble. Even if you still love your abuser, or if you’ve done things to survive that you’re not proud of. Our crisis line is standing by, and our trans specific services are still available. 

It has been so hard feeling this isolation from each other, but I promise we will see each other again. We will run into each other at the dog park or the book store, and give each other a nod like we always do. We are experts at knowing ourselves under dire circumstances, at holding our trans-ness close and safe. We are experts at surviving. 

In solidarity, 

Felix