Why My Trans Friends Are Fleeing Texas

“Texas has become one of the most dangerous and hostile places for transgender youth and transgender people and their families in America,” Andrea Segovia, senior field and policy adviser of the Transgender Education Network of Texas, told reporters in February.

My trans friends are fleeing Texas like rats leaping from a sinking ship, and I can’t blame them.

In state legislatures across the country in recent months, Republican lawmakers have introduced hundreds of bills targeting trans people, in what advocates say is a feverish attempt to erase trans and nonbinary people from public life.

This year alone, state lawmakers have introduced a staggering 483 anti-trans bills, according to the Trans Legislation Tracker, which compiles information from civil rights groups and other sources. Only four states have not had an anti-trans bill introduced this session.

In Texas, there are 49 bills targeting the LGBTQIA+ community, currently. Over half of those are specifically anti-transgender.

What I didn’t expect was my own sense of terror and rage at the Texas Legislature. I didn’t expect to realize even after so many years of being a trans activist that turning the tide on the wave of anti-LGBTQIA+ bills hitting the Texas House and Senate floors would continue to prove fruitless.

As it is, there is very little a Texan citizen can do to oppose bills passing through a GOP-dominated Texas Legislature, especially with Governor Greg Abbott at the helm, who has the final power to veto or sign a bill into law.

Here’s a crash course on how a bill becomes a law in the Texas Lege:

1. The legislature meets every odd-numbered year (2023) to write new laws and to find solutions to the problems facing the state. This meeting time, which begins on the second Tuesday in January and lasts 140 days, is called the regular session. The governor (Greg Abbott, who is vehemently anti-LGBTQIA+ and specifically loudly transphobic) can direct the legislature to meet at other times also. These meetings, called special sessions, can last no more than 30 days and deal only with issues chosen by the governor.
2. On the first day of each regular session, the 150 members of the house of representatives (Republican [86] Democratic [64]) choose one of their members to be the speaker of the house (Rep. Dade Phelan, who favors anti-transgender legislation regarding trans youth). The speaker is the presiding officer of the house. He or she maintains order, recognizes members to speak during debate, and rules on procedural matters.
3. The speaker also appoints the chairs and vice chairs of the committees that study legislation and decides which other representatives will serve on those committees, subject to seniority rules. There are 31 committees, each of which deals with a different subject area, and five committees that deal with procedural or administrative matters for the house. Most members serve on two or three different committees.
4. In the senate, (Republican [19] Democratic [12]) the presiding officer is the lieutenant governor (Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick, also vehemently anti-transgender), who is not actually a member of the senate. The lieutenant governor is the second-highest ranking officer of the executive branch of government and, like the governor, is chosen for a four-year term by popular vote in a statewide election.
5. The first thing that the speaker of the house and the lieutenant governor ask their respective houses of the legislature to do is to decide on the rules that the legislators will follow during the session. Some legislative procedures are provided for in the state constitution, but additional rules can be adopted by a house of the legislature if approved by a majority vote of its members.

Once rules have been adopted, the legislature begins to consider bills.

This process moves very quickly, given that the regular session is only 140 days long. Often, the Texas Senate will abbreviate the process of a bill moving between committees to the floor for hearings and amendments, and back to the place where it originated in order to expedite the process.

The Texas House of Representatives will often let the process unfold a little more slowly. However, with the recent successful passage of SB 14 through GOP-dominated committees and back to the Senate for final approval before moving to Governor Greg Abbott’s desk, the process for the other anti-transgender bills that will follow it seems inevitable.

My best friend, a Southern trans woman who moved 2 years ago to the Pacific Northwest “within spitting distance to Canada, just in case,” has adopted a mantra.

“It’s time to leave Texas, Kelly. Get out while you still can.”

I keep balking, citing my Social Work degree program at Texas State. I cite my tightly and painstakingly woven community of friends who are like my family. I cite my actual blood family, who lives on the Gulf Coast, and has resided there for 8 generations. I cite my privilege, being a white cis-passing transmasculine person. With this beard and flat chest and white skin and fierce activist ideology, surely I should stay and fight this. Even with the inevitable Senate approval of SB 14.

But today, as I jogged up the steps of the Texas Capitol rotunda for what felt like the 18 millionth time, my heart started to sink.

The rally in front of the Texas Capitol was for construction worker’s rights. There was no sign of the fanfare that happened earlier that morning or even last Monday.

I registered my opposition for SB 12, a Senate Bill set to criminalize drag shows in Texas on a tablet hidden in a quiet corner on the 2nd floor. A small trickle of people follow me and do the same. It feels meaningless, an empty gesture at the Sisyphean task of protecting my community in this state.