The Bias Against Trans People
The life expectancy of a Black trans woman in the US is 35 years.
The life expectancy of a Black trans woman in the US is 35 years.
Let that sink in. Lots of you reading are probably past that age. For me, that’s ten years from now.
And considering everything I’ve been through, ten years from now doesn’t sound as bad. At various point in my life, I thought I would never live past my 18th birthday. Then it became my 20th. Then my 25th. And now I’m just waiting, trying to get my life in order, trying not to think I could be killed any time I go outside. Trying to stay safe online without having nightmares about people looking up my address and murdering me. Trying to remember how important the advocacy work I do is, and not focusing on the people around me who might follow me when I go home.
And if things go wrong, who would I call?
But let’s take a step back.
In the US, and many other countries, being transgender is a death sentence. Looking at the main surveys, half of the responders have been verbally and physically harassed. Nearly half has been sexually assaulted. The United States is the third country with the highest number of violent reported deaths of transgender people.
Here in the UK, we tend to think hate crimes aren’t that common. We dismiss them as a “US thinks”, but the data begs to differ. The Trans report from Stonewall, shows that two in five people have experienced a hate crime. That means that every time I walk out, there’s about a 50:50 chance someone will try to hurt me. That sounds entertaining.
And let’s not forget that the people who gender me correctly are a minority. Should I look for the rates of violence against women? Probably not, Covid-19 is enough to make me want to stay indoors.
So, let’s say that happens. You’re in the unlucky 41% (well, I already am, unfortunately).
Who you gonna call?
Considering that “surprisingly” almost half of the people (46%) who took part in the Transgender Discrimination Survey stated they’re uncomfortable calling the police... Ghostbusters is probably a fairly accurate guess.
Why would someone who’s been abused, assaulted, threatened refuse to seek help? Well, probably because that’s not what the police provides. In lots of cases, they’ve offered the opposite as help.
I had already talked to a few friends in the community about this, and the sense of powerlessness is overwhelming. Trans people would get “clocked”, usually profiled as sex workers, and this happens frequently in the UK as well. While there isn’t the “trans panic defence”, being transgender is still perceived, sometimes legally, as a deception.
The few times I have interacted with the police, it was before the start of my medical transition, but that didn’t reassure me. But the bias against trans people tends to be combined with classism and racism. As a white well-dressed man, despite having suffered abuse in the past, I know I am generally safer than my siblings.
While 22% of responders recall being harassed by the police, those numbers are almost double for Black people (38%). When it comes to physical assault, the proportion is similar: 6% for white people, 15% for Black people. Sexual assault? 2% vs 7%.
Statistics also show household income has an impact on how trans people are treated: 44% of people earning less than 10k reported disrespect, against 18% of high-earning individuals.
There are also data about how gender impacts that: while trans women tend to be at higher risk of violence, it’s interesting that trans men and transmasc people tend to be more uncomfortable around the police. Personally, it doesn’t surprise me: being raised as a woman, being victim of abuse and feeling uncomfortable in men-only spaces, I have often felt unsafe around authority figures. But considering the reports show the police often misgenders trans people, it would make sense to attribute it to some form of misogyny.
And this doesn’t take into account what could happen after the arrest: 41% of Black respondents have been arrested because of their gender identity alone, and about half of the trans people incarcerated report harassment and abuse from inmates and staff, regardless of gender, and about 20% reports sexual assault. And because of single-sex spaces, it’s even harder to monitor the situation.
Every time I go to a protest or I appear as public speaker, I am terrified of the idea of being arrested. I have no clue what gender a court would consider relevant, I would have little support and protection from abuse, and even if I have never committed any crime, it’s hard to shake that fear off.
And this fear is widespread. Our existence has been questioned so many times, criminalised so many times, that we feel guilty simply for being alive. Sometimes we struggle to rationalise it, but ask any LGBTQ+ person if they’d feel comfortable being pulled over and you’ll see the answer in their eyes.
So, what can be done? Where can we go from here if there’s so much harm already happening?
When Black Lives Matter started trending again, after the murder of George Floyd, the discourse about the role of the police and how we held them accountable came up again in many online spaces.
The UK has a long history of deaths while in police custody as well. An Inquest survey shows that Black people are twice more likely to die in custody than white people. While the police isn’t usually armed, dangerous restraints are often used, and that can lead to a further escalation of violence, since hand to hand combat can arguably pose higher risks for the officers. Tasers are four times more likely to be used against Black people (as reported by the Guardian’s Bias in Britain). The lack of guns means these deaths haven’t been quick. They have been violent, and could have been more easily avoided.
Lots of people have been asking to defund or retrain, but with these numbers, it feels like any time spent looking for other solutions poses a risk to minorities. But abolition can sound extreme. We are used to the police. We need someone to call when we’re in trouble. So what would happen? Would all the police officers lose their jobs?
The issue is that the police isn’t stopping or preventing crimes, it’s escalating them. Police officers are trained to enforce the law, that’s what they’re paid to do. This means they have a limited understanding of how to handle sensitive situations around mental health, trauma, crisis.
And looking at the current situation with the NHS, if we had to pick where to invest our taxes, would that choice really be that controversial?
Once the police arrives at the scene, it’s often too late. Crimes haven’t been decreasing. If you look at statistics for rape, domestic violence, stalking, convictions are a very small number. The police is historically born from racial struggles. Abolishing the police means limiting their power.
If someone is attempting murder, by all means I wouldn’t expect a nurse to deal with it. But the police is called because of a number of various issues, and it’s unrealistic to expect a single system or organisation or force to be equipped to deal with all of them. The goal is set stricter guidelines about what they are supposed to do, how they are going to handle it, and leave the rest to other public services. Looking at the Eurostat data on Total general government expenditure on public order and safety, the UK spends more than the European average on police forces.
This means defunding is entirely within the means of the country. We need community, we need education, we need to learn how to support each other. A system that has been created as a way to – literally – police people won’t allow change, won’t allow growth. It can’t.
And while the majorities remain mostly unaffected by police brutality, it’s getting harder to ignore. When we are called to take decisions about the community we live in, do we think of the people the police is supposed to protect? Or do we keep individuals in an unnecessary position of power that has been actively used to harm civilians?
Abolition is unlikely. It asks for a radical change, and changes are scary.
But it opens a discussion. It creates an opportunity.
Even if you don’t personally agree with the suggestion, listen to the argument. Ask yourself why we got to this point. Why people are asking for the police to step down. And step in instead. Listen to them.
Protect them.
Protect them like they couldn’t.
Written by Ramses Oliva
In addition to working 9-5, Ramses can't seem to stop writing, even if it means scribbling on a notebook overnight. He's a trans activist who loves talking about queer identities, diversity and art. He is co-host of the brand-new podcast "Punching the Wall" and you can find him posting overpriced selfies on Instagram at @queer.discart.