You really do need a trans friend

and I'm pretty sure I'm the guy for that job

Photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona on Unsplash

Hey friends. We’ve seen a lot of things change here in the TransFriend community over the last few months, including a lot of new faces joining us on my (mostly) weekly newsletter. Welcome, to those of you who are new here. And thank you to those of you who’ve been growing alongside me for a while, especially those of you who have decided to become paid subscribers. We’re coming up on the one-year anniversary of TransFriend, and it feels like I should have something important to say.

But I’m a little stumped.

I’d love to share some joy with you.

I want to bring you something heartfelt and inspiring.

This started out as a place to connect, and it’s happening, and I couldn’t be happier about that. You’ve all listened to my terrible jokes and my (occasionally sad) stories about life and stupid things I’ve done, and your engagement feels like hugs and high-fives when I need them most.

But, as some of you already know, I struggle with things from time to time. It’s been a tough start to the new year to see such a landslide of anti-trans legislation happening across the United States. And if that wasn’t enough, Substack has been embroiled in a whole Nazi problem that’s caused a lot of folks to pack up and leave. And I feel like I should say something about that so that you know where I stand and how I intend to move forward in this (conflicted) space.

Let’s start with background…

TransFriend started off here on Substack in early February of 2023. At that time I had zero subscribers, and I was terrified to tell anyone I was writing at all. If people watched me fail, somehow that was worse than me failing in silence.

But something funny happened. You all started to show up. Some of you shared these posts with others in your life, and a community started to grow. As of today there are 185 of us here. That feels like a huge number. I am constantly in awe of how many of you show up, especially when you share your thoughts and feelings in the comments or in emails to me. Your engagement has made everything here worthwhile.

We’ve endured some hate-fueled comments in a couple of places, and I had to make the hard decision to ban and delete those comments in order to protect this space for myself and for others. I do not regret that decision.

Right around the time I showed up, a lot of transgender writers on this platform were leaving due to Substack leadership demonstrating a wholesale unwillingness to ban hate speech and attacks against the trans community. This has, of course, bled over into any and all marginalized communities here, and lots of folks have endured significant attacks. I cannot blame any of them for leaving. Worse still, this platform actively solicits some of the most vile groups to bring their voices here and spread racist, misogynist, anti-queer rhetoric. Some of that content is paid for and heavily promoted by Substack leadership.

In very recent weeks I was part of a vocal collective of writers asking Substack leaders to stop promoting and monetizing Nazi content here. The results were fairly predictable. While there was a delayed acknowledgement of the existence of Nazi content, nobody wanted to step up and say it was bad or eliminate it from the platform. There was also a lot of shady business happening in the background. Others have written some very fine pieces on this, and their voices are far more eloquent than mine.

I could leave, too. I could say goodbye to this platform and try to set up elsewhere. There are certainly options.

But for a guy like me with a relatively small voice and audience, leaving is erasure, and there would be no comeback. I would most likely elect to stop writing. And yes, I have very sincerely considered doing just that.

When considering whether to stay or go, there is always a gut feeling we can tap into, and mine is acutely tied to the transgender and queer community, that same community I’ve been searching for my entire life. Some of us are lucky to stumble into it early, others have to work for decades to build up a few members of chosen family around us. Unlike other types of communities, when one trans person or a family with a trans member leaves a place we don’t take all of the trans genes out the door with us. Someone else has been left behind, someone who is perhaps yet-to-be-born. We’re seeing this happen in red states across the US. 2023 was a tough year for anti-trans legislation, and 2024 is gearing up to be worse. We don’t all have the privilege or access to leave our homes in search of something better, and there’s a chance that nowhere is really safe enough for us to relax and be ourselves.

Is Substack any different?

And if I go, who am I leaving behind?

If you take a quick tour of Substack, like I did, and you search for transgender writers and newsletters, you’re likely to find that some great folks were here once upon a time. They brought in talent, diversity, unique perspectives, funny stories, sad songs, insightful poetry, beautiful prose, and voices that deserve to be heard. But where are they now?

Most of them stopped writing. They left, they set down their pens, they succumbed to intrusive thoughts of imposter syndrome, they abandoned projects, and – horrifically – NO ONE EVEN NOTICED.

Please note that there are still some truly outstanding writers and creators here, some of which are new, many of whom came long before me, and I am so glad to be among such beautiful people and their work. But there is simply not enough.

There are not enough transgender writers on Substack.

There are not enough queer writers on Substack.

There are not enough trans and queer writers of color on Substack.

There are not enough trans and queer disabled writers on Substack.

There are not enough trans and queer neurodiverse writers on Substack.

There are not enough.

But I am still here, and I’m digging in my heels with stubborn force to be the pain-in-the-ass who just won’t quit (even when maybe I should). I’m here for the new trans writer who stumbles across the internet looking for their community. I’m here for the older and middle-age queer folks who really need to see someone like them who is taking a stand and being his own weird-ass self on full display. I’m here for the runaways who are tired of running and just want to sit down and chill for a little while where it’s safe. I’m here for the families raising queer kids who need to see another family out there making it work, too. I’m here for the allies. I’m here for the people who have never met a trans person and are scared to screw up if someone in their life comes out as trans (and yes, you can screw up here with me and I’ll keep being your friend). I’m here for the wonderful friends I’ve made by posting my bizarre life stories into the void. I’m here for the silent person haunting the background, afraid that they might be transgender and not knowing what the hell to do next.

I’m here celebrating the joy of being a trans person who is alive and okay and sometimes sad and often afraid to feel my own emotions, but I’m Still. Right. Here.

I’m glad you’re here with me.

Your trans friend,

Robin