My TV Is Still Glowing: On Survival, Identity, and the Fight Ahead

Feb 19

Author’s note: "This is one of the hardest things I’ve had to write, but it’s also one of the most important. If you’re struggling with identity, survival, or just trying to hold onto yourself in difficult times, you’re not alone. This is my story, my fight, and my reminder that no matter what happens, my TV is still glowing."

Some days, I can sit with the decision I’ve made and remind myself that it’s strategic—that it’s survival. But today, it feels heavy.

I made the choice to detransition while this Administration is in office, not because I stopped being me, but because protecting myself and my family matters more than anything. I said before that this is still a form of fighting—playing their game so I can make it through to the other side. That truth hasn’t changed. But today, I’m feeling the weight of what it means to hide away a part of myself.

Mourning and the Fear of No Longer Belonging

There’s a sense of mourning in that. A grief in having to step back for the sake of safety, even when I know I’m still the same person at my core. And with that mourning comes another complicated feeling—the fear of being seen as a fraud in the Trans community, even though I know that survival isn’t betrayal.

Many of my friends in the community have been nothing but supportive, reminding me that I’m still valid and that this doesn’t change who I am. And yet, I can’t shake the fear that others might see me as someone who has abandoned the fight, even when I know I’m still fighting in my own way. It’s hard to make peace with a choice that feels both necessary and heartbreaking.

More than that, there’s a deep fear of no longer belonging. The Trans community has been my home, my refuge, the place where I’ve felt seen and understood in ways I never had before. What happens when I step back, even temporarily? Will I still have a place? Will I still be embraced? It’s a terrifying thing to feel like you’re at risk of losing your own people, even when the logical part of you knows that community isn’t built on a single moment or decision. But fear doesn’t always listen to logic. And right now, that fear is loud.

Genderfluidity, Strategy, and Survival

But maybe this isn’t detransitioning. Maybe, as a genderfluid and nonbinary person, I’m just leaning into one side of myself for now. This identity is something I only recently embraced, after years of believing I had to exist in a binary framework. Realizing that I don’t have to be strictly one or the other was liberating.

And yet now, I find myself having to pause that freedom—not because I want to, but because I have to. But that doesn’t mean it’s gone. It doesn’t mean I’m gone. Maybe, for now, I’m embracing a fem existence—not to erase who I am, but to endure. To protect myself. To make it through so I can reclaim what’s mine when it’s safe to do so.

Fighting for the Future—For Me, and For Her

And when I look at my stepdaughter, who recently came out as Trans, I realize that this fight isn’t just about me. It’s about her—her future, her safety, her right to exist as herself without fear. She deserves a world where she doesn’t have to make choices like this. She deserves a future where being herself isn’t something to be strategic about, where she doesn’t have to weigh her identity against her safety.

And if making this hard decision now means I can be here for her, means I can fight in a way that ensures she won’t have to, then I’ll do it. Because she, and every Trans person coming after us, deserves better.