Turn on the news right now and you will almost certainly find a panel discussing transgender people. In the aftermath of the killing of Charlie Kirk, these conversations have multiplied across networks. But whether the tone is sympathetic, hostile, or neutral, one thing keeps happening. Trans people themselves are absent.
This is the paradox of our time. We are accused of being “everywhere,” yet when it comes to shaping the conversation, our seats remain empty. That absence fuels the myth that transgender people have become overrepresented in culture. The reality is simpler. We are not too visible. We are only hyper-visible when someone else chooses to make us a symbol and invisible when it comes to being recognized as full participants in society.
When Visibility Isn’t Representation
Visibility and representation are not interchangeable. Visibility means being noticed, whether willingly or unwillingly. Representation means being included in the narrative, able to speak in our own voices, and recognized as experts on our own lives.
After Charlie Kirk’s death, news outlets leaned heavily on the alleged identity of the shooter’s roommate. The word “transgender” became a headline, a way to stir up debate. Commentators argued about ideology, identity politics, and culture wars. Segment after segment rolled out, but not a single trans person appeared on screen to challenge mischaracterizations or to add context drawn from lived experience.
It is not new. Transgender people have long been reduced to case studies, objects of fascination, or a convenient scapegoat. We are dissected like a specimen under glass while panels of cisgender commentators analyze us. That is not representation. It is exploitation.
The “Too Much” Narrative
Every time a trans character appears in television, every time a trans athlete makes headlines, and every time a trans activist speaks publicly, backlash follows. The refrain is always the same: “We see too much of you.”
The numbers tell a very different story. Trans people account for only about one to two percent of the U.S. population. On television, trans characters still represent less than one percent of all recurring roles. In news coverage, we often appear only as subjects of debate, not as contributors to it.
So where does the feeling of “too much” come from? It comes from discomfort. For those used to being the unquestioned default, even small steps toward inclusion feel overwhelming. For those invested in maintaining hierarchy, the simple act of existing in public feels like a provocation. What is described as overexposure is, in truth, the growing pains of a society learning to share space.
The Cost of Exclusion
Leaving trans people out of conversations is not only disrespectful, it is dangerous. When our voices are excluded, misinformation spreads unchecked. False claims about healthcare, sports, and education go unchallenged, creating a climate where fear flourishes. Public perception warps when trans lives are filtered only through the words of those outside our community. And policy follows perception. The wave of anti-trans laws across the country grows stronger when legislators and the public hear nothing but distorted versions of who we are.
The absence of trans voices doesn’t just silence individuals. It shapes the trajectory of laws, schools, and workplaces. It turns a population into an idea, something to legislate about rather than listen to.
What Real Representation Means
Representation is not about saturating the media. It is about balance. It is about ensuring that when transgender people are the topic, transgender people are also part of the discussion. It means bringing us to the table as journalists, as doctors, as athletes, as artists, as parents, and as leaders.
We have seen glimpses of what happens when this shift occurs. Shows like Pose and Sort Of changed how audiences understood trans life by centering trans writers, directors, and actors. Independent outlets led by trans journalists are filling the gaps that mainstream news continues to leave open. And when trans advocates are consulted in the crafting of policy, the resulting legislation is far more reflective of lived reality.
Representation does not mean we flood the airwaves with our presence. It means we take our rightful place in conversations that affect our lives.
Beyond Headlines
Representation also matters in quieter places. It happens when a student sees a trans teacher, when a patient meets a trans doctor, and when a family member discovers that a loved one can live openly and thrive. These moments are not news stories, but they are life-changing. They remind young people that they belong not as a controversy, but as part of the fabric of everyday life.
Resisting Erasure
Challenging the myth of over-visibility requires more than pointing out statistics. It requires action. Media outlets must be held accountable for the voices they platform. Trans-led platforms need community support so they can continue to grow. Schools should provide curricula that acknowledge trans history and culture, not erase it. And communities should celebrate trans joy, not just trans struggle, so that visibility is not always tied to controversy.
Representation is not about demanding special treatment. It is about refusing to accept erasure.
Why This Matters Right Now
The killing of Charlie Kirk has become a cultural flashpoint. In its wake, trans people have been thrust into yet another round of public debate. Once again, we are present in the story but absent from the room where the story is being told. Our identities are used as shorthand for division, for fear, for controversy. Without our voices, the picture is incomplete, distorted, and deeply unfair.
Representation matters because truth matters. Transgender people are not “too visible.” We are still fighting to be seen in ways that matter most.
Books for Real Trans Voices
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- “Redefining Realness” by Janet Mock – A memoir that helped reshape cultural understanding of trans women.
- “Sorted” by Jackson Bird – A candid and relatable account of transition told with humor and honesty.
- “The Transgender Issue” by Shon Faye – A sharp look at politics, media, and society through a trans lens.
- “Before I Had the Words” by Skylar Kergil – A personal coming-of-age story filled with reflection and discovery.
- “Black on Both Sides” by C. Riley Snorton – A groundbreaking history tracing the intersection of Black and trans experiences.
The Bottom Line
The idea that trans people are “too visible” is a myth that thrives on silence. We are only visible when it serves someone else’s agenda and invisible when it comes to shaping our own narratives. Until our voices are present in the rooms where decisions are made, visibility will never be enough.
Representation is not saturation. It is survival.
