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Honoring Transgender Day of Remembrance – November 20

To honor Transgender Day of Remembrance which is observed on November 20 each year, ELCA Racial Justice Ministries invited Vicar Vica-Etta Henrietta Steel to share some thoughts with our readers.

Editor’s note: Our author intentionally capitalizes the word queer throughout. While this capitalization may not be congruent with style guidelines, ELCA RJ Ministries supports this style decision.

Each year, on Nov. 20, the Transgender Day of Remembrance is observed across the nation. Each year, the vast majority of the transgender people who are murdered are Black and brown transgender women. People gather to mourn, to light candles, to say the names of those who have been murdered. 

Each year we gather. Each year.

The Transgender Day of Remembrance is a day to call for justice for transgender people. The day of remembrance is a day to call for racial justice. The harm done to our transgender family in this nation, and across the world, is a racial justice issue. 

The transgender community is under constant and growing attack. Over half the states in the nation have enacted or are considering laws that take medical care, safety and opportunities from our transgender family (for more details, see Erin Reed’s “Anti-Trans Legislative Risk Assessment Map: September 2024 Edition”). According to Nature Human Behavior, rates of attempted suicide by youth and young adults have skyrocketed, up to 72%, in states where anti-transgender legislation has been enacted. These laws harm all of us, but the greatest harm is done to those who face multiple marginalizations, specifically BIPOC, disabled or neurodivergent people. Too often, people in America have become injured to the reality of murder and harm. Complacency becomes complicity and the horror of murder being normalized in the broader society is magnified in our marginalized communities. 

I cannot speak here of all the harm done to transgender people. It would be too much for you to read. It is too much for my heart to take. All I can do is share some of what I experience as a Queer woman who is transgender and lesbian. I am white. I tell you this because when I came out to the world, when I lost access to the privilege afforded me as one who had presented as if I were a white man, I learned how much privilege I hold, still. 

When I tell you that I have learned to be wary of police and cautious of men, do you understand that as privilege? My wariness grows from a fear that, if I am arrested, a person who carries authority in a gun will place me in a holding cell with men. I do everything I can to avoid that harm. When I travel alone, I drive the speed limit and obey all traffic laws. If I see police officers at a roadside gas station, I get back on the road and continue driving. I take precautions to make certain it is safe for me to use the same bathroom other women use. (I always travel with a change of clothes and other materials so I can avoid a stop if it isn’t safe.) Do you understand the danger we who are transgender face in this world where our right to exist is open to debate? Where we are not allowed to be present when cis people legislate or argue our fates? Where fear of our existence is sold across the nation for the political gain of those who prosper from harm? Where even people and organizations that claim to be our allies choose silence in the face of open expressions of transphobia? The need to be safe is a real concern. Also, I do not fear being shot by those same police for simply existing. It is my privilege to fear rather than experience the unjust incarcerations that are the reality for far too many Black and brown transgender women (for a more detailed analysis, see the Movement Advancement Project report “Unjust: How the Broken Criminal Justice System Fails Transgender People”). 

I write here to share that it is long past time for us all to speak with and lift the voices of our transgender family, especially the Black and brown women in our circles. The Transgender Day of Remembrance is a day of racial justice. Trans joy and trans uplift are racial justice issues. I hope that we all integrate the work toward justice for and with Queer communities, especially transgender communities, into the work toward racial justice. 

As core work toward racial justice, I urge you to follow the writing of Black transgender women who help everyone understand transgender people’s stories of pain and joy. If you don’t know where to start, I offer the leadership of Imara Jones and her work at TransLash.org. Seek out Transgender Day of Remembrance services in your communities or online. Find and say the names of those murdered each year. I pray that we all begin.

 

Vica-Etta Henrietta Steel is in ministry at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Madison, Wis. She is also the developer of JustBe Ministry, an inclusive ministry in the public square, rooted in Queer community with a focus toward centering BIPOC Queer voices and the voices of all who have been historically and are currently excluded. She works to lift trans joy in a world that gives us so much pain.