This commentary is by Andy Wood, a resident of Albany, Vermont
In grief and anger, I write this letter to the world.
UCLA reports that transgender individuals are over four times more likely to be the victem of a violent crime than cisgender individuals. That is 86.2 per thousand compared to 21.7 per thousand.
The Human rights Campaign posted a list of 57 trans people who were violently killed in 2021. They state this is an incomplete list because the misreporting or complete lack of reporting makes these numbers difficult to track.
If you had read me these facts a few days ago, I may have believed them, but the reality, the consequences, would not have registered. Then, on April 12, Fern Feather was stabbed to death. These are facts confirmed by the autopsy.
When I woke up that morning, I received word from a friend that a man, whose name I did not recognize, had been stabbed to death just 15 miles from my home. I was running late for work and didn’t particularly want to hear bad news first thing in the morning. I made the comment, “That’s an awful way to go.” I was ready to be done with the conversation when he mentioned the victim had a second name. Fern.
Surely that’s a common name, no? I had to be sure. “You don’t mean Fern Feather?” Yes. Fern Feather was the name tagged as an afterthought on the police blotter.
Fern was more a friend of a friend to me. I had been lucky enough to care for a few of her birds in the past and hold happy memories of conversations and gentle dove wings. Stories of care, of beauty seen in places you would never think to look. In my brief interactions with Fern, there was nothing but gentleness.
My first reaction was grief. Grief for the world and the loss of such a genuine person. My second reaction was to call my mom so she wouldn’t hear it on the news. As the day progressed and more briefings and the autopsy findings were released, my reactions turned to bewilderment and anger.
Just a few weeks earlier, she had made a public Facebook post exclaiming, “It’s time to tell the world I’m a hot trans woman in a currently male hot body suit!! Dang sure took long enough eh?! Please share this to liberate our other beautiful ones!”
This did not come as a surprise.
Yet when she died, I saw article after article deadnaming her. Deadnaming definition: to call a trans person by their birth name after they have changed their name. Misgendering her, and completely omitting the fact that she was trans.
We live in a small community and word quickly gets around. Humans are by nature curious and soon everyone had a piece of a story they wanted to share about or find out. Who she had slept with and when she met her attacker and why they were together and who was on drugs. And while I’m hearing bits and pieces of these stories and trying not to propagate my own, I’m getting more and more frustrated by the fact that her killer is being charged with murder and not a hate crime. I hope that will change. I hope that the petition to charge him with a hate crime gets traction. I hope that folks continue to reach out to news agencies and demand that they correct their stories.
Yet those things are not enough. Those actions won’t change the fact that Fern is spending the night in a morgue.
When I went into work later that morning, my sweet boss asked if I was OK and how I had known her. Now, he had not seen the news reports, so when I said “she,” he thought nothing of it. I was trying to explain to this man who signs my checks and who I’ve just met why exactly I was afraid that a man stabbing a woman to death would not be tried properly. I decided it wasn’t worth explaining.
I feel so guilty for that. For doing exactly what the news was doing, for omitting such a crucial part of her identity. These cowardly acts of not acknowledging the “hard” part of the situation are the same thing that got us here in the first place.
No, my boss is not going to stab me to death when he finds out I’m gender queer but the fear of a negative reaction is there. The fear that a conversation about trans people will yield undesired or uncomfortable results keeps me silent. My silence, your silence, the media’s silence on the topic only helps to continue the ignorance and acceptance of these violent acts against the trans community.
My best friend is a woman. A woman often labeled by the community as trans. She was one of two people on that day who I spoke with who seemed to understand my grief and anger about Fern’s misrepresentation. She, having been on this earth longer than I, knows the struggles of being a part of the queer community when simply being gay or lesbian was socially unexceptable. She shared my anger with members of the queer community for not standing up today, for sitting back and gossiping, for allowing the cycle of violence to continue.
Gay rights, marriage equality and the relative ease of being gay or lesbian or bi in America today happened in part because trans people stood up and fought for the community. Where is the community when we are fighting for safety and justice for our trans sisters?
Where are you when someone makes a jab at a passerby that doesn’t match their idea of the gender binary? Where are you when little trans boys are binding with Ace bandages and causing permanent damage to their bodies because they don’t know how to safely ask for resources? Where are you when trans women are being insulted and assaulted for trying to use the bathroom? Where are you when your community, your family needs you? Where are you today while Fern Feather lies dead and everyone takes one last jab at her expense?
Now, what are you going to do to fix it? Do better.
