When the Williams Institute at UCLA released its new study this month, the headlines were everywhere. According to the researchers, about 2.8 million Americans aged 13 and older identify as transgender. That’s roughly one percent of the population in that age group, which includes about 2.1 million adults and more than 724,000 youth between 13 and 17.
On paper, those are simple demographics. But numbers never stay simple when it comes to transgender lives. Within hours, commentators hostile to our community seized on one figure in particular: the 724,000 transgender teens. They held it up as proof that something unnatural was happening, that “confusion” was spreading like an infection in schools, and that society was “making kids trans.”
It’s a familiar move. Every time visibility grows, panic follows. The latest talking point is that transgender identity is contagious. It isn’t. The numbers don’t prove a wave of influence. They prove honesty, safety, and progress.
How the Numbers Were Counted
For decades, researchers struggled to count transgender people accurately. Surveys often skipped gender identity entirely or framed it so narrowly that many people were erased. Earlier studies could only rely on small, state-level data or patchwork community surveys.
The Williams Institute report improves on that history. It draws from large-scale national surveys, including the CDC’s Behavioral Risk Factor Surveillance System and the Youth Risk Behavior Survey, which now include gender identity questions. Those questions were carefully worded to reflect a range of experiences, including trans men, trans women, and nonbinary people.
This isn’t guesswork. It’s a careful aggregation of reliable surveys combined with statistical modeling to fill in gaps where states have not yet collected inclusive data. The end result is the clearest national snapshot we’ve ever had.
That’s why the numbers look bigger now. We’re not suddenly seeing more transgender people; we’re finally seeing the people who were always there.
Why Youth Numbers Look Higher
One of the loudest reactions has been to the finding that 3.3 percent of American teens identify as transgender compared to about 0.8 percent of adults. On the surface, that looks like a generational surge. But the explanation is much simpler and far less alarming.
Young people today are growing up in a world with more language, visibility, and relative safety. They see trans actors on TV, hear classmates talk about pronouns, and have online spaces where gender identity isn’t whispered but spoken out loud. These supports don’t create trans identities; they create conditions where honesty is possible.
Older generations didn’t have that. Many adults did not have the words to describe themselves or the safety to admit who they were. For them, silence was survival. For teens today, disclosure is still risky but far more possible than before. The gap between youth and adults doesn’t prove a trend; it proves how much harder it was to be counted in the past.
The Contagion Myth
Despite this clear reality, opponents of trans rights have latched on to the youth figure as evidence of a so-called contagion. They argue that being transgender is a fad, something spread by social influence, peer groups, or TikTok.
This is not just inaccurate. It’s dangerous. It paints trans youth as victims of manipulation rather than people speaking their own truths. It treats identity as an infection to be prevented instead of an experience to be respected.
And it echoes older moral panics. In the mid-20th century, left-handedness was stigmatized and even “treated” as a disorder. In the 1970s and 1980s, gay and lesbian people were accused of “recruiting children.” Feminism was described as a disease that would spread if girls were allowed to see women in leadership. Each time, visibility was described as a threat. Each time, the panic was proven wrong.
The same will happen here. But in the meantime, this false narrative causes harm.
The Harm of Panic
The contagion myth isn’t an abstract argument. It has real consequences for real kids.
When lawmakers buy into it, they use the numbers to push for restrictive laws. They point to 724,000 teens as evidence that schools are “confusing” students and then move to ban inclusive curricula. They frame gender-affirming care as part of the problem and then outlaw puberty blockers, hormones, and even therapy.
Schools and families feel the effects immediately. Parents are pressured to second-guess their children instead of supporting them. Teachers are forced to remain silent about gender diversity. Classrooms become battlegrounds over bathrooms and pronouns.
And the youth themselves? They bear the weight of it all. Trans teens already face higher rates of depression, anxiety, bullying, and suicide attempts. Being labeled a “contagion” only compounds their vulnerability. What they need is compassion and protection. What they are given, too often, is suspicion and hostility.
What the Data Really Shows
When read without panic, the Williams Institute report tells a very different story. It shows that transgender adults make up less than one percent of the population, a number that has stayed consistent for years. It shows that nonbinary people are increasingly visible and included in surveys. And it shows that young people are more likely to come forward when asked.
Taken together, the data paints a picture of stability, not epidemic. The supposed “surge” among youth is not a surge at all but the removal of silence.
If being transgender were contagious, adult numbers would be rising at the same rate. They are not. The stability among adults proves the point: identity does not spread like a virus. What spreads is honesty when conditions allow it.
Why Visibility Matters
For those of us in the transgender community, the most powerful part of this report is not the numbers themselves but what they symbolize. They represent lives that are finally visible. Each percentage point stands for people who no longer have to pretend, who found the language to say “this is me.”
Visibility isn’t always safe. Trans people still face violence, discrimination, and rejection. But being counted is a form of recognition. It says: you are real, you exist, and you matter.
That’s what scares our opponents. Not contagion, but recognition. Because recognition demands rights, dignity, and equality.
The Pattern of Panic
History makes this clear. Every time a marginalized group becomes more visible, opponents claim it’s spreading like a disease.
When interracial couples appeared in public, critics claimed the sight would encourage others. When gay and lesbian people fought for marriage equality, opponents said it would “confuse” children into becoming gay. Even when women first entered universities in larger numbers, detractors warned that seeing them there would tempt more women to abandon traditional roles.
These arguments all follow the same pattern: fear disguised as concern, panic in place of evidence. And each time, society eventually recognizes the truth. Diversity doesn’t spread by contagion. It becomes visible because people are no longer forced to hide.
What We Should Do With This Moment
So what do we do with these new numbers? First, we protect the ability to collect them. Inclusive research is essential. Without it, trans people disappear from the record, and opponents can pretend we don’t exist.
Second, we resist the misuse of the data. The figures don’t show a problem to be solved. They show a community to be supported. That means affirming families, protecting teachers, and creating safe schools.
And third, we celebrate. Because 724,000 trans teens telling the truth about who they are is not a contagion. It is a triumph. It is evidence of resilience and courage, even in a hostile environment.
The Bottom Line
The Williams Institute report is not a warning sign. It is a mirror held up to America, reflecting back what has always been there.
The attempt to frame transgender youth as a contagion is nothing more than recycled panic. The truth is far more ordinary and far more powerful: when kids feel safe enough to be honest, they will be.
The only thing contagious here is honesty. And that is not something to fear. It is something to protect, nurture, and celebrate.
