As Pride Month approaches, a time meant to celebrate the resilience, beauty, and diversity of the LGBTQ+ community, we are once again confronted with a grim reality: the persistent and alarming rates of suicide among transgender individuals. Recent events, such as the tragic death of 17-year-old Charlotte Fosgate being turned into a punchline on social media, highlight a disturbing trend of dehumanization and mockery that exacerbates the mental health crisis within our community.
I’m an older transgender woman. I’ve had thoughts of suicide before, more than once. I’ve come close. This isn’t a sign of weakness but rather a result of the overwhelming weight of this world, which sometimes seems to crave my departure. But I never followed through. Not because it doesn’t hurt, but because there’s a fire in me; a spiteful, survivalist spark that refuses to give the haters the satisfaction. And I know I’m not alone. Many of us stay alive out of anger, out of defiance, out of sheer unwillingness to let this cruel world win.
The Stark Reality
According to The Trevor Project’s 2024 U.S. National Survey on the Mental Health of LGBTQ+ Young People, 46% of transgender and nonbinary youth seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year, and 12% attempted suicide. These are not just statistics; they are mirrors of real pain, names we may never know, and voices silenced too soon.
Even worse, the widespread anti-trans legislation in the United States intensifies the already escalating crisis. A study published in Nature Human Behaviour found that state-level anti-trans laws have led to a 72% increase in suicide attempts among transgender and nonbinary youth. Our government is legislating us into despair.
The Impact of Dehumanization
Charlotte Fosgate, known online as @burntfishie, posted a haunting farewell on social media before her death. Rather than being met with compassion or mourning, her final photo and words were turned into viral jokes, memes, and transphobic commentary.
Adding insult to tragedy, far-right cartoonist Hans Kristian Graebener, better known as Stonetoss, used Charlotte’s final image as his Twitter banner and added a bio mockingly advertising, “Use code ‘FourtyOne’ for 41% off merch,” a reference to the widely reported statistic that 41% of trans people attempt suicide. This wasn’t just insensitive. It was an act of violence dressed up as a joke.
This pattern of mockery and commodification of trans death reinforces a dangerous cultural message: our pain is entertainment. Our deaths are clickbait. And those messages land hardest on those who are already struggling to survive.
Online Harassment and Digital Abuse
Digital platforms have become ground zero for modern cruelty. Algorithms prioritize engagement over empathy, making controversial or hateful content spread faster than truth or kindness. For trans people, that means our identities are constantly under attack, our trauma used as fuel for internet fame.
Doxxing, deadnaming, misgendering, and threats, these are everyday occurrences for trans people online. And when our most vulnerable moments become memes, the message is loud and clear: even in death, we don’t get to rest.
Platforms like Twitter/X have failed repeatedly to moderate this abuse, even allowing monetized hate accounts to thrive. Until we hold these companies accountable, digital harassment will continue to be a potent weapon in the battle against trans lives.
Media Representation and Dehumanization
Sensationalism sells, and that includes death. The media often treats trans suicide as tragedy porn or ignores it altogether unless it fits a provocative narrative. When news outlets cover trans deaths without empathy—or worse, with subtle misgendering or victim-blaming, they participate in the very erasure they claim to report on.
We need media that honors lives rather than exploiting deaths. We need stories that celebrate survival, resistance, and joy, not just tragedy. Because every time a trans death is mishandled by the press, it tells another struggling person, “Even if you die, they won’t get your name right.”
Family Rejection and Religious Trauma
Some of us grow up being told we are an abomination. That God hates us. That we are broken, sinful, and perverse. Whether it’s from a pulpit or a parent, this kind of rejection is one of the most common catalysts for suicidal ideation among trans youth.
Conversion therapy still exists. So does emotional neglect disguised as “tough love.” Some are kicked out. Others are forced to pray away their identity. And the scars of that abuse last a lifetime.
But affirming families can change everything. Acceptance reduces suicide risk dramatically. And faith doesn’t have to be a weapon—there are growing numbers of churches, mosques, and synagogues that affirm and celebrate transgender lives.
Economic Insecurity and Housing Instability
It’s hard to fight for your future when you don’t know where you’ll sleep tonight. Transgender individuals, especially youth, face disproportionately high rates of homelessness, unemployment, and poverty.
A capitalist system often views transgender individuals as liabilities. Employers discriminate, landlords judge, and resources are scarce. When basic needs aren’t met, mental health plummets.
Mutual aid networks and trans-led nonprofits are doing critical work to keep people afloat. But until we address systemic discrimination and build safety nets, this economic violence will continue to push our people to the brink.
Barriers to Gender-Affirming Care
Gender-affirming care saves lives. That’s not a slogan. It’s backed by every major medical association in the U.S. Yet lawmakers continue to ban or restrict access to this care under the guise of “protecting children” or “biological integrity.”
Denied hormones. Denied surgeries. Denied name changes or gender markers. Every barrier adds weight to the already crushing burden of dysphoria and social rejection.
And yet, many persist. Some travel across state lines. Some crowdfund life-saving procedures. Some wait for years. Because transition isn’t cosmetic, it’s survival.
Transphobia in Schools and Bullying
School should be a place of safety, learning, and growth. For trans youth, it often becomes a battleground. Bullying, harassment, and institutional erasure are daily realities. Teachers misgender. Classmates mock. Bathrooms become political.
According to GLSEN, over 80% of trans students feel unsafe at school. That’s unacceptable.
We need inclusive curricula, gender-neutral bathrooms, and policies that protect trans students. We need teachers trained to affirm, not erase. When school becomes a battleground, hope doesn’t last the entire semester.
Crisis Fatigue in the Trans Community
How many times can you mourn strangers who feel like family? How many times can you post a memorial graphic, light a candle, or scream into the void before you go numb?
Many of us are burned out. Tired of hashtags. Tired of vigils. Tired of surviving in a world that treats us as disposable. And yet, we keep going.
Joy is resistance. So is rest. So is logging off. It is not your job to carry the whole movement on your back. Staying alive, finding happiness, and making it to tomorrow—these are all revolutionary acts.
The Role of Allies and Bystanders
Silence is complicity. If you say you love us but laugh at the memes, you’re part of the problem. If you watch us get dogpiled online and scroll past, you’re part of the problem.
Being an ally means showing up. It means using your voice when we’re too tired. It means donating when you can, intervening when it’s safe, and amplifying trans voices, not speaking over them.
Report hate. Uplift joy. Offer help. Hold space. Your actions can keep someone alive. They might even save a life.
The Bottom Line
If you’re reading this, and you’re struggling, don’t give them the satisfaction.
Don’t let the ones who mock us win. Don’t allow the lawmakers who desire your silence to succeed. You are here. You are real. You are enough.
There are people who love you, even if they haven’t met you yet. There is a future for you, even if you can’t see it yet. Stay. Fight. Breathe. Make it to Pride. Make it to next week. Make it to the next laugh. Because we need you.
- The Trevor Project: 24/7 crisis support for LGBTQ+ youth. Call 1-866-488-7386 or visit thetrevorproject.org
- Trans Lifeline: Peer-run support for trans people. 1-877-565-8860 or translifeline.org
- 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Dial 988 for confidential support any time.
You are not alone. You never were. And you never have to be.
