Commentary: Honoring queer lives, remembering trans siblings lost

by Rachael Ward | published on Nov 19, 2024

This week marks Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR), an annual time of mourning and honoring trans siblings who have lost lives to violence on Nov. 20. UCC Minister and Team Leader for Gender & Sexuality Justice Ministries Rachael Ward (they/them), reflects on the weight and potential of the present moment and offers resources for engaging with TDOR this week.

To be queer is to leave traces along our life threads. Traces as evidence that we’ve been here all along. Traces from queer ancestors who advocated for us to live bolder queer lives beyond them. Traces of joy, hardships, sorrow, resistance, and persistence as markers to keep showing up.

A library of queer stories lives and breathes all around us. And it’s more than worthy of spending time within – queer, straight, and beyond.

I believe in storytelling. Stories tell us who we are, and our re-sharing of stories helps us make sense of the “why” and to gather for the “what next.” Every time we share stories, we speak truth to power. And I can’t imagine a greater time for such truth to be spoken than right now.

These truths – our queer truths – are that we’ve always been here. You cannot erase what has always been. Queerness lives in the earth, the stars, and amongst us. Queerness is for all of us. Its fluidity and its justice-forward hope is that every single human being would be liberated to practice the freedoms of being human together.

For my fellow queer siblings: We are indeed magic. Holy and created with joyful purpose. No one can take the stardust of our magic away from us. This moment may feel suffocating. The past few weeks may have felt like a swirl of panic, fear, and even perhaps just freezing in place.

All of these emotions and more are beyond valid.

Anytime when humanity rebukes the magic of God’s creation – the vastness of all that makes us human – a disruption to bearing witness to one another occurs and we are more prone to fall prey to the oppressors’ entrapment.

Things feel weighty because they are – that rupture is around us. And for many of us as queer people, we’ve been bracing for what may come next.

In the midst of the weight, I’ve found more tables open in friends’ homes. More networks to share resources widen. More co-conspirators and allies taking turns at the wheel. What I have found in the weight is a shared resistance. I hope our neighbors and siblings will keep holding the weight with us.

We need each other. The possibilities of how we see our way through are together.

This week marks Trans Day of Remembrance, a yearly memorial of mourning and honoring of trans siblings lost to violence. More than 350 trans lives were lost this year globally.

Trans siblings deserve to live long joyful lives. Trans siblings deserve to become trans ancestors. And trans siblings need your support in holding the weight of grief in this moment.

We can be faithful neighbors and siblings by asking our trans siblings where it hurts and believing them. I often feel the most profound starting point of healing and renewal is choosing to believe people and listen to where they are and what they need.

Now, perhaps more than ever, we need you.

Engaging TDOR This Week

On Wednesday, I will be lighting a candle and reading the names of those lost this year throughout the day as a way of bearing witness. You can join me in doing so by finding names here.

Each year for TDOR, I write the name of an individual on a piece of paper and carry them with me. I let their story be a reminder to persist in offering love to my queer, trans, non-binary body and others. I invite you to participate in this offering too.

Last year’s TDOR service reverberates still for shared presence. You can watch that service here.

An Offering of Prayer from enfleshed by m jade kaiser:

We
ancient and still becoming,
tired and resilient,
children and elders
precious to each other,
We remember
across borders,
through words that fit and don’t,
in the midst of layers and intersections,
violences of so many kinds.
We remember lives, names, stories.
We remember our parts
in the webs we grieve –
the ways and times we have been more of a friend
to white supremacy or colonialism,
capitalism or misogyny, ableism or fatphobia,
anti-sex worker biases or cultures of policing,
or our religious institutions complicities that weave through them all
than to those on this day we call kin.
We remember what causes us to betray.
We remember we are capable of solidarity, true and lasting.
We remember more than death, more than what deadens,
but we will not let their cruelty be forgotten, erased, dismissed.
We remember good days for each other.
We remember love that surprises.
We remember our beloveds, resting, haunting, remaining.
May there be comfort among the grieving,
reflection among the privileged,
and loyalty, courage, and power
to move and make us,
hold and heal us
in the directions of
trans flourishing,
collective and within

Additional Resources:

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