Gender-Based Violence

The Challenge

Transgender women—particularly trans women of color—face epidemic levels of violence in the United States. Each year, dozens of transgender and gender-nonconforming people are murdered, and the true number is almost certainly higher due to widespread misgendering of victims by law enforcement and media.

The violence extends far beyond homicide. Trans people experience disproportionate rates of sexual assault, intimate partner violence, harassment, and hate crimes. The U.S. Transgender Survey found that 54 percent of respondents had experienced some form of intimate partner violence, a rate that dwarfs national averages. Surveys consistently find that more than one in four transgender people have experienced a violent attack, with rates significantly higher for trans women and people of color. FBI Hate Crime Statistics have documented a persistent rise in anti-transgender bias crimes over the past decade, yet even those numbers represent only a fraction of the reality, because most jurisdictions still do not track gender-identity-motivated offenses in a systematic way.

The intersection of transphobia and racism compounds these dangers. Black and Latina trans women account for a vastly disproportionate share of fatal violence against transgender people year after year. This is not coincidence; it is the result of overlapping systems of marginalization—racism, transphobia, poverty, housing instability, and exclusion from formal employment—that concentrate risk on those who are already the most vulnerable.

The systems that are supposed to protect survivors often fail them. Law enforcement agencies frequently lack training on transgender issues, leading to re-traumatization during reporting. Domestic violence shelters may turn away trans women. Courts may fail to recognize the gendered dimensions of violence against trans people. The result is a cycle of underreporting that masks the true scale of the crisis.

Existing survivor services were not designed with transgender people in mind. Shelter systems, hotlines, legal aid, and counseling programs often lack the cultural competency and specific resources needed to serve trans survivors effectively.

Why This Matters

I write about gender-based violence not as an outside observer but as a survivor. I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and domestic violence. I have experienced hate crimes. I have received death threats serious enough to require changes to my daily life. I have been forced into exile from my own country due to threats against my safety.

That history is not something I share for its own sake. It is the lens through which I evaluate every policy proposal, every funding decision, and every gap in the service landscape. When I review a shelter intake form that lacks options for transgender residents, I understand the practical consequences in a way that goes beyond theory. When I push for trauma-informed training for law enforcement officers, it is because I know firsthand what happens when a survivor encounters a system that is unprepared or unwilling to help. My policy work is grounded in lived experience, and I believe that proximity to the problem—when paired with rigorous analysis—produces better solutions.

These experiences are not unique to me. They are part of a pattern that has persisted for decades, claiming lives and driving transgender people—especially those who are most visible in advocacy—into hiding, poverty, and despair.

The violence is not random. It is the predictable consequence of a social and political climate that dehumanizes trans people, portrays them as threats, and strips away the legal protections that might otherwise deter violence. When politicians describe transgender people as dangerous or deviant, they create the conditions under which violence becomes more likely. When courts and police fail to take anti-trans violence seriously, they signal that trans lives are less worthy of protection.

Addressing gender-based violence against trans people is inseparable from the broader fight against all forms of gendered violence. The same structures of power and control that enable violence against cisgender women also target trans women—often with even less accountability.

What I've Done

My work on gender-based violence has spanned advocacy, policy development, and direct community support:

• Advocating for survivor services that are inclusive of and responsive to the needs of transgender individuals, including training programs for domestic violence organizations and sexual assault service providers
• Working on policy reforms to improve law enforcement response to anti-trans violence, including data collection, officer training, and hate crime reporting
• At Gender Justice League, helping build a Community Security Program that provided emergency shelter placements and individualized safety planning for trans and gender-nonconforming people facing imminent threats of violence
• Advocating for trans-inclusive domestic violence services, including pushing mainstream DV organizations to adopt intake protocols, staff training, and housing options that do not exclude transgender survivors
• Supporting community safety programs that address violence prevention through mutual aid, bystander intervention, and community-based alternatives to policing
• Speaking publicly about my own experiences with violence and threats to break the silence that surrounds gender-based violence against trans people
• Contributing to research and public education efforts that document the scope of anti-trans violence and identify effective interventions

Where We Go From Here

Better data is the foundation for better policy. The current lack of comprehensive, accurate data on violence against transgender people makes it difficult to allocate resources, design interventions, and hold systems accountable. Both the FBI and the Department of Justice systematically undercount anti-trans violence—the FBI's Uniform Crime Reporting program still relies on voluntary participation, and many local agencies either lack the codes to classify gender-identity bias or simply do not use them. Federal and state agencies must improve data collection practices, including proper recording of victims' gender identities and mandatory reporting of bias motivation.

Dedicated services for transgender survivors are urgently needed. This means funding shelter programs that welcome trans women, training crisis counselors in transgender-specific issues, and creating legal aid pipelines for trans survivors navigating protective orders and criminal cases.

Training law enforcement and service providers is equally critical. Police officers, prosecutors, shelter staff, and crisis counselors need practical, ongoing education on working with transgender survivors—not a single workshop, but embedded competency standards that are tied to funding and accreditation. Without this, even well-intentioned systems will continue to fail the people who need them most.

Systemic reform must address the root causes of anti-trans violence. This includes challenging the political rhetoric that dehumanizes trans people, strengthening hate crime laws and enforcement, and investing in economic opportunities that reduce the vulnerability created by poverty and housing instability. Reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act with explicit, robust protections for transgender survivors is a legislative priority—VAWA remains one of the most important federal tools for funding shelters, legal services, and prevention programs, and its provisions must reflect the full diversity of people who experience gender-based violence.

Community-based approaches to safety—mutual aid networks, restorative justice programs, and violence interruption initiatives—offer promising complements to traditional law enforcement responses that have too often failed trans communities.