The Target on Black Trans Youth
It is an undeniable truth that Black children are born with a target on their backs. That target gets even bigger when those children learn more about themselves and realize that they are trans. When most people think of targets, they picture red rings and a center meant to be shot. But for Black trans people, the target is not something they carry, it is something that they become in the eyes of those who live their lives with hatred. Their very identity makes them a mark. Their bodies, their voices, their truth, everything about them becomes a bullseye.
I knew this immediately. I grew up with the knowledge that as a Black child, I didn’t have the room to make mistakes. I was sent into a crying fit every time I messed up as a child, something that I now know was my fear manifest. I tried my best to be the best so that there was no flaw anyone could point to when targeting me, it was a near indestructible armor.
It was in middle school that my armor started to crack. I had attended a very mixed school and found myself a friend of many of the white people I was surrounded by in band class. It was hard and confusing to be learning new things about myself while being surrounded by people who I had thought would try their hardest to tear me down. In fact they built me up and are part of the reason I am who I am today. I was able to accept myself as queer and even learned that I was transgender through my time quarantining at home during lock down.
But middle school wasn’t all fun and games. The solidarity I had found with the majority white band kids wasn’t reciprocated by other students of color or even some of the staff. I had kids calling me fruity and getting all on my case about my sexuality. All at the same time, I had my homeroom teacher targeting me and my friends for no other reason than the fact that she did not like to see people of color succeed. Time and time again there were shots being fired at me, but I wasn’t alone. I had my friends and even other teachers who helped me feel safe and loved during an extremely weird time in my life.
The pandemic was a terrifying time for everyone, but I think I had it particularly bad. I was more anxious than ever and feeling at my lowest emotionally because the safe community I had wasn’t just taken from me, but I had no way of reliably talking to anyone outside of direct messages on Zoom calls if we even had class together. In addition to feeling generally depressed, I was experimenting with my gender and starting to come to terms with the fact that I was trans. I had never felt more free and confident in myself until I realized who I was meant to be, and I was lucky enough to have two really cool teachers help make me feel seen in a time where my family was ignoring the fact that I had come out at all. “You’re either with me or against me,” is a phrase that sums up my middle school journey pretty well. When I was met with confusion instead of acceptance or hatred from my parents when I first came out it really threw me for a loop. I even remember saying I wish they kicked me out instead. Looking back now I wouldn’t trade what I have for the world.
“My suit of armor from my childhood had evolved into a luxurious gown, made of everything that made me perfectly me. ”
The pandemic was nowhere near over by the time I was starting high school, but I was lucky enough to find a group of friends who made the second most important transition of my life a little easier. I had found what I had lost in middle school once again in high school, more queers kids who helped me be comfortable but also more black and brown kids who understood me on some level. Now, just because some people understood me, that didn’t mean I would no longer be a target. Almost every aspect of my identity was being put on display, and I couldn’t always tell who actually was looking out for me when people started to talk behind my back and create rumors.
Luckily, I can say that my horrible start to a 9th grade year did not reflect the rest of my time in high school. My suit of armor from my childhood had evolved into a luxurious gown, made of everything that made me perfectly me. The target that I was born into is not one that makes me cower in fear. My entire life has led up to now, and I can confidently say that I move through the world as a beacon of hope and inspiration to all around me who are willing and open to learn.
So yes, it is undeniable that Black trans youth are born with a target on their backs. What can be challenged is the way people see these targets. These flaws that society has taught the world to prey upon could be something you foster into a beautiful flower. Be the reason someone can feel safe, not the reason they reinforce their armor. Their bodies, their voices, their truth, everything about them is a reason to love them. Trans people are people. Black people are people. Treat them as such.
One thing that helped me survive the target I wear on my back was community. Being able to lean on friends and organizations that want the best for me. The Sylvia Rivera Law Project is an organization with the goal of supporting trans people of color. GLAAD is a non-profit organization with all kinds of resources and programs for queer and trans people. And in the event that things get to be too hard, the Trans Life Line is a peer support and crisis prevention based non-profit.
