They’re Coming for Us Again: What It Feels Like to Watch Queer and Trans Rights Rolled Back in 2025

 

This isn’t just backlash—it’s erasure. And it’s happening in real time.



I don’t know how else to say it: they are coming for us.

Not in a subtle way. Not in whispers. Not in isolated incidents. But in sweeping legislation, prime-time propaganda, school board crackdowns, and presidential campaign rallies. In the past two years, queer and trans people—especially youth—have been turned into political targets so routinely that it barely makes headlines anymore.

I used to think we were moving forward. I really did.

Marriage equality felt like a milestone. Trans visibility grew in pop culture. Pride festivals expanded in small towns. It started to feel like maybe—just maybe—we could live, love, and work without having to justify our existence every single day.

But 2025 has reminded me of a cruel truth: progress is not permanent. And in America, every inch of queer joy comes with a fight.


The Backlash Is Here—and It’s Organized

We’re living through the most aggressive, coordinated rollback of LGBTQ+ rights in a generation.

At least 23 states have passed laws in the last two years restricting gender-affirming healthcare, banning drag performances, limiting pronoun use in schools, or dismantling diversity and inclusion programs in public institutions. Some have done all four.

Hundreds of school districts now require parental notification for a student’s pronouns. Trans athletes have been banned from youth sports. College LGBTQ+ resource centers have been shuttered. In several states, it is now illegal for healthcare providers to offer hormones or puberty blockers to trans minors—even if the family, doctor, and patient all agree it’s life-saving care.

These aren’t abstract policies. They’re targeting real people. Our people.

I see it in the parents who are terrified their kids will be outed at school. I hear it in the voices of teens forced to detransition because a state legislature decided their identity was too controversial. I feel it when friends whisper, “Should I leave this state?”—not because they want to, but because it’s no longer safe to stay.


This Is Not About “Protecting Children.” It Never Was.

They say it’s about parental rights. About morality. About fairness in sports.

But let’s be honest—it’s about control.

It’s about policing gender. Policing expression. Policing bodies that don’t fit the mold.

Drag bans? Those aren’t about “adult entertainment.” They’re about making queer celebration illegal in public.

Book bans? They’re not protecting kids—they’re erasing them.

DEI bans on college campuses? They aren’t about merit—they’re about power, and who gets to define what “normal” looks like.

The message is loud and clear: queer and trans people are too controversial to protect, too inconvenient to see, and too political to be heard.


It’s Not Just Red States. It’s Everywhere.

I need to say this directly: you can’t hide behind geography anymore.

Even in blue states, queer and trans communities are under threat. LGBTQ+ centers are underfunded. Housing for trans people is in crisis. Police brutality still disproportionately affects queer people of color. Anti-trans rhetoric has spread far beyond Fox News—it’s on college campuses, in boardrooms, and around dinner tables.

We’re not safe because we moved to a “progressive city.” And we shouldn’t have to relocate just to survive.

Freedom shouldn’t require a ZIP code.


The Human Cost of This Hate

This is more than a policy crisis—it’s a mental health crisis.

  • 41% of LGBTQ+ youth seriously considered suicide last year.

  • 54% of trans and nonbinary youth reported being bullied at school.

  • 1 in 4 queer adults say they’ve been harassed at work in the last year alone.

The constant fight to justify our humanity takes a toll. Some days it feels like our identities are debated more than respected. That our pronouns are a punchline. That our visibility is conditional—accepted when it’s trendy, discarded when it’s inconvenient.

I’m exhausted. And I know I’m not alone.


Why Silence Is No Longer an Option

Here’s what haunts me most: how quiet some of our allies have become.

Companies that once flew rainbow flags are now scaling back DEI efforts. School administrators are afraid to speak up. Political leaders issue vague statements about “respecting all sides” while our rights vanish.

Silence, in this moment, is not neutrality. It’s permission.

If you say you care about LGBTQ+ rights, then this is the time to show it—not just when it’s easy, but when it’s dangerous.

Because we don’t need rainbow logos in June. We need solidarity every day.


What Gives Me Hope

Despite it all, we’re still here. Still fighting. Still building.

I see queer organizers forming underground support networks in hostile states. I see teachers sneaking affirming books into banned classrooms. I see trans kids testifying at state capitols with voices that shake—but don’t break.

I see people who could walk away from this fight choosing to stay in it.

That’s the story the headlines don’t always tell. We are not victims. We are visionaries. We are fierce, creative, resilient people. And we are not going anywhere.


What You Can Do Right Now

If you’re reading this and wondering where to start, here’s how to help:

  • Speak up. Use your platform, your influence, and your privilege. Call out anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric—even when it’s uncomfortable.

  • Donate locally. Support trans mutual aid funds, housing programs, and mental health resources in your community.

  • Show up. Attend protests. Vote in local elections. Advocate at your school board or workplace.

  • Listen. Let queer and trans people lead—but don’t let them fight alone.

  • Stay loud. When the headlines fade, stay committed. This fight doesn’t end in an election cycle.


We Deserve Better Than This

We deserve joy. We deserve rest. We deserve to grow up, fall in love, get jobs, dance badly, and exist without fear.

We deserve classrooms that see us. Workplaces that protect us. Communities that embrace us.

We are not political pawns. We are not debate topics. We are human beings.

And I will never stop fighting for a country that recognizes that—not just in policy, but in practice.

Because queer and trans people are not the problem.

We are the promise. More on Shane Windmeyer here. 

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