Editor’s note: Trans Day of Visibility, March 31, was a time to reflect on the trans community’s needs and the threats it faces. But of course, there’s much more to say — especially in the Tenderloin, which contains part of San Francisco’s Transgender District.
So artist and writer Monteque Pope Le-Beau brings us this important story about struggle and identity. They issue a challenge that we should all take up, to open ourselves to those whom we don’t (yet) understand.
“What are you?”
These are words that another person felt they could say to me. I don’t know why they thought that was OK. Maybe it was the same reasoning that drove doctors to “treat” the “illness” of my gender, ravaging my body when I was an adolescent so many years ago. I still carry the injuries.
Countless others have had similar experiences that they didn’t deserve.
In nature, diversity is the norm. The animal kingdom features a wide array of spectrums, and humans are no exception. In fact, many scientists and medical professionals regard gender as a spectrum that includes transgender and nonbinary individuals. While this type of variety is incredible, it can evoke fear in some.
There are also those who are prejudiced against trans individuals, and who struggle to understand them because their true identity often remains unseen, obscured behind an appearance that it doesn’t entirely match. That’s unlike heterosexuals, bisexuals, lesbians, and others who can more easily wear their identities for others to see. This should not matter. What should matter is the person’s character.
Trans individuals are remarkable because they possess an authentic sense of self within. While some end up medically transitioning their outward selves, others may choose not to or face challenges that prevent them from doing so, yet they embrace their true identities.
Just like I have.
Identity, denied
Reflecting on my own experiences, I was once a carefree child, blessed with a loving family and an incredible single mother who treated me as her most cherished jewel. I faced no suffering or hardship. I was athletic, skateboarding, snowboarding, climbing, hiking, and running. My mother often remarked that witnessing me was akin to watching “poetry in motion.” I relished the sensation of running barefoot on wet sand; it felt liberating.
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My mother, a medical professional, home-schooled me and introduced me to the world of books and travel, expanding my knowledge and empathy for different cultures and nations. Life was wonderful.
My gender assigned at birth was female. When I reached puberty, my body began changing, becoming more outwardly male. I embraced it. I developed into a strong and handsome figure, resembling a muscular football player. My mother assured me that what was happening was perfectly natural, and in some cultures I would be revered as a healer or spiritual leader. She provided me with resources to deepen my understanding and checked in with my feelings regularly.
However, when my mother sought medical advice to ensure I was healthy, the nightmare began. The doctors decided my hormones were the enemy. They didn’t care that I liked who I was becoming, and treated me with a rigid medical approach, attempting to “correct” what they believed was wrong and force femininity back onto me. Yet, I was already who I was meant to be — there was no need for correction.
For nine years, I took the drugs they told me to, and that were supposed to reset my gender. My mother would later find out that these drugs were not thoroughly tested for cases like mine — administered for so long, to a young, developing body and mind. The long-term effects were devastating. The medication caused brain damage. I went from being a 4.0 honors student to a shadow of myself, unable to care for myself or communicate with others. I lost many talents, including my ability to play music and speak foreign languages. My mind felt blank, like a wiped hard drive.
My courageous mother, initially intimidated by the doctors’ warnings, ultimately conducted her own research and discovered the truth about the medication, and she took me off it. With her support and patience, and with therapy, I began to recover and gain strength. But I was forever changed, and haunted by lingering side effects.
I am thankful that the doctors only medicated me and stopped short of surgery, which would have altered me in even more and irreversible ways. I’m also thankful that today trans people generally have more treatment options than I had, and access to more doctors who are kind and understanding.
However, these and other societal improvements are now being threatened by fear.
Mapping a community’s wounds
LGBTQ+ youths today face heightened risks of mental health injury and suicide due to mistreatment and inadequate access to appropriate medical care. The Trevor Project, a nonprofit organization specializing in crisis intervention for LGBTQ+ people under age 25, documented these trends in its recent, first-of-its-kind longitudinal study, which followed more than 1,600 participants from September 2023 through March 2025. The study found that anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation all rose in the first year of observation. The situation was worst for trans people.
“Transgender and nonbinary (TGNB) youth and participants ages 13 to 17 reported the poorest mental health outcomes and represented the highest risk for suicide,” according to the Trevor Project. “TGNB youth were nearly twice as likely to report anxiety (70% vs. 42%) and suicidal ideation (53% vs. 28%) compared to cisgender peers, a pattern that persisted a year later.”
Of course, it’s not just youths; trans people of all ages suffer, with many facing abuse, violence, or even death.
“Transgender women and men had higher rates of violent victimization (86.1 and 107.5 per 1,000 people, respectively) than cisgender women and men (23.7 and 19.8 per 1,000 people, respectively),” according to a study by the Williams Institute at UCLA School of Law, which analyzed 2017 and 2018 data.
These aren’t just passing, dismissable trends. This is a matter of life and death.
We are all butterflies
Trans individuals are talented, creative, and intelligent members of society. Some have served in the military, while others lead corporations or work as engineers or scientists. They are extraordinary people who have navigated extraordinary challenges. Trans people are our neighbors, community leaders, and friends.
There are both admirable and less favorable individuals among trans people, just as there are in other groups and the broader population. There is nothing inherently frightening about trans people. As FDR famously stated, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”
For society to evolve and thrive, we must accept all its members, including trans individuals, for who they are — not who we wish them to be. We must recognize that trans individuals seek the freedom to live their lives authentically, and we should not try to stop them.
We are all butterflies, enduring our own struggles, as my mother taught me. It is through these struggles that we gain strength. If you crack open the chrysalis before a butterfly is ready, it will fall and perish. But if left to struggle, the butterfly emerges stronger and capable of flight.
My own struggles made me the person I am proud to be today. Likewise, we all must keep challenging ourselves to be better — to be open toward the people we don’t easily understand. It will be a difficult struggle. But it will make us all strong, together.
Monteque Pope-Le Beau is a poet, artist, and founder of Dreamweaverarts. They use art as a catalyst for change, drawing from personal experiences, including overcoming illness. Their brand, “Circles of Enlightenment,” promotes community well-being.
