Two years ago, I wrote for Katie Couric Media about what it means to show up for transgender kids — how our youngest, Ellie, came and told us who she was on July 4, 2015, at 4 years old. And that loving our child meant choosing courage over fear, every single day.
Now 14, Ellie’s grown into a sharp, hilarious, Marvel-obsessed teenager headed to an amazing high school where she can explore her passions. She has best friends who adore her, teachers who nurture her, and dreams that reach far beyond our living room walls.
But the world around Ellie? It’s gotten darker.
Today, we’re living under a Supreme Court that just upheld sweeping bans on gender-affirming care and gives parents the OK to opt out of books that support inclusion. A second Trump administration has made it easier for state legislatures to roll out laws in waiting, criminalizing doctors and terrifying families. Trump has called providers, teachers, and parents “child abusers.” The House and Senate each have bills pending that would further ban care. This isn’t some distant possibility: It’s our present.
In just the first half of this year, over nearly 600 anti-LGBTQ+ bills were introduced in the U.S. — more than half targeting transgender youth directly. The Trevor Project’s 2024 survey shows nearly 1 in 2 trans and nonbinary young people seriously considered suicide in the past year. A quarter of them tried. These numbers gut me, because they aren’t abstract: They are Ellie. They’re every kid like her, sitting at kitchen tables across America, wondering why people in power seem to hate them so much.
So when people ask me, “What will you do if your state passes one of these bans?” I want to tell them: We’re already living like it has. We already whisper contingency plans at night. Three of our close friends have fled to countries willing to provide safety and care for their children. So we’re already bracing ourselves, because history — and today’s headlines — keeps telling us to.
But if you walked into our house on any random Tuesday, you’d see something else. You’d see Ellie sprawled out in her room, tangled in a blanket, laughing at TikToks with her friends. You’d see life. Messy, beautiful, ordinary, angsty teenage life.
Even in this relentless political storm, there is still hope.
I see it in the trans community, especially those who have spent decades fighting to live authentically. I see it in their wisdom and refusal to give up and am inspired daily knowing my child has them to look up to.
I see it in healthcare providers, unwilling to step down in the face of legislative bullying, who know, like every major medical and psychological association knows, that gender affirming care saves lives. I see it in trans-led organizations like A4TE and BetterWorld Collaborative, among the thousands of smaller organizations peppered across the united states
I see it in allies: Ellie’s tight-knit group of friends, her guidance counselor, and teachers. The ones who left videos and notes during the darkest moments of the middle school experience.
Ellie is not a political talking point: She’s our child.
And I see it in Ellie — how she loves her family and dogs, holds my hand through sleepless nights, conquers video games, and draws stunning anime. Even after the political debates, the middle school bullies, the cruelty slung towards her by this administration, she remains unapologetically herself, believing in the right to her own joy — and so do we. That gives me profound hope.
The numbers are grim. The policies are terrifying. The stakes are quite literally life and death. But love — our loud, stubborn love — will win. It’s louder than lawmakers pounding podiums. It’s louder than hate groups on social media. It’s louder than the lies that try to shrink Ellie down into something tragic or shameful.
Ellie is our child, not a political talking point. And no law, no president, no wave of bans will ever change that.
So we fight. We love. We plan. We refuse to back down. Because Ellie’s joy, rooted in the trans ancestors before her, is worth every single battle. And because she deserves to grow up safe, whole.
And wildly, unapologetically Ellie.
