Revisiting the conversation around trans inclusion

Last Friday was International Transgender Day of Visibility. As I reflect on what that day means, I keep thinking about this quote I read last week:

“For trans folks, visibility is a double-edged sword. After years and years of fighting for the right to be ourselves publicly, to access live-saving care and to life without fear, it feels like every day those rights are being eroded and threatened across the board,” wrote trans journalist Mel Woods in Xtra. “The fact is: we are hyper-visible right now, and it’s terrifying.”

I was also thinking about the article I wrote for that same publication about a year ago, about whether the Boy Scouts of America could be a model for trans inclusion.

The first sentence in that piece now seems almost quaint: “In what could easily become a record-breaking year for anti-LGBTQ2S+ legislation, trans youth are at the centre of the latest American culture war.”

The year 2022 was indeed record-breaking for such legislation, with some 315 bills introduced in statehouses across the country. But just three months into 2023, we’ve already seen 449 anti-LGBTQ bills in the U.S., according to the ACLU.

It’s worth noting, the vast majority of the bills proposed in 2022 did not become law, but that seems almost beside the point. The message that these politicians are  sending to LGBTQ people is clear: They do not want us to exist, at least not in public life.

That message has gotten so much louder now than I could have imagined back in 2022. It’s worth repeating this sentence from Woods: “We are hyper-visible right now, and it’s terrifying.”

And yet, there is one group of people that is hardly in the picture at all; a group that would seem to prefer complete invisibility: the Boy Scouts of America.

So I return to the article I wrote last June, which asked a simple question: Where is the BSA in all of this? Sure, the organization managed to avoid a culture war of its own over trans inclusion, and has admitted trans youth since 2017. But its relative silence at a time when trans people are consistently under attack is absolutely deafening.

On some level, the BSA’s reticence is understandable. The organization is in its weakest position in generations, with membership numbers decimated by the pandemic, and a reputation tarnished by the ongoing sexual abuse settlement. Why risk further controversy by wading into the red-hot conversation over trans rights?

Well, I would argue, because it’s the right thing to do. Imagine a world where, rather than trying to avoid the conversation at all costs, national BSA leaders came forward with full-throated statements in support of trans rights, trans health care and trans autonomy. What if the BSA invested in becoming a true safe-haven for trans kids in the many states where their rights have been curtailed? How many lives could they save, by giving trans kids hope and support?

I know there are plenty of people in the BSA—volunteers and professionals alike—that are trying to usher that world into reality, at least in their small corner of Scouting. But with the stakes higher than ever, I would hope we could be just as loud, if not louder, than our detractors.

Sound off: What do you think about the BSA’s current stance toward trans members? What else do you think they could or should be doing?

And for more of my coverage on this issue, check out the links below:

• In the early days of this newsletter, I profiled one trans scout in Texas who struggled mightily to find a troop that made sense for him.
• I’ve profiled a number of other trans scouters, including Phyllis Randolph Frye, Michael Kintscher, Erin Russ, and Colleen Baltutis.
• I wrote about the new policy that allows transgender eagle scouts to request a name change on their official eagle scout card, certificate, and congratulatory letter.
• I spoke to Tayler Hein to learn more about their experience as the first (known) openly nonbinary full-time BSA employee.