In his recent State of the State address, Illinois Governor J.B. Pritzker delivered a powerful critique of the Trump administration, drawing sobering parallels to the rise of authoritarian regimes throughout history. His words, rooted in both his Jewish heritage and his work with the Illinois Holocaust Museum, serve as a stark reminder of how easily democracy can be dismantled when fear, hate, and blame are allowed to take root. As a transgender woman living in America today, Pritzker’s address resonated with me on a deeply personal level.
Governor Pritzker highlighted the ways authoritarian leaders scapegoat marginalized communities—immigrants, LGBTQ+ individuals, people of color, and women—to sow division and consolidate power. This rhetoric is not abstract to me; it is a reality that has shaped my life and identity. Growing up, I was acutely aware of the social stigma surrounding my identity. Even after transitioning, I’ve encountered moments where prejudice and misunderstanding threatened my sense of safety and belonging. Pritzker’s words brought back memories of navigating a world that often seeks to erase people like me, reinforcing the importance of standing firm in the face of fear and ignorance.
Pritzker’s reference to the Nazis’ attempt to march in Skokie in 1978 is a chilling reminder that hate does not disappear—it waits for an opportunity to resurface. His question—“After we’ve discriminated against, deported, or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people… what comes next?”—echoes my own concerns. I’ve witnessed how quickly negative rhetoric can escalate, especially when it targets vulnerable groups. This question resonates deeply because I know what it’s like to feel as though society is questioning your right to exist.
Yet, Governor Pritzker’s speech was not one of despair, but of defiance and hope. His words, “Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage,” speak to the resilience I’ve had to cultivate throughout my life. Coming out as transgender required courage, but advocating for my rights and the rights of others demands even more. Pritzker’s message reaffirmed my belief that silence is not an option—speaking up is essential to preserving both personal freedom and collective democracy.
The governor’s commitment to protecting Illinois residents from the harmful policies of the Trump administration is particularly meaningful to me. His support for affordable healthcare and inclusive education directly impacts my life. Access to gender-affirming healthcare has been crucial to my well-being, and knowing that Illinois prioritizes these services makes me feel more secure. Similarly, the proposed Prescription Drug Affordability Act and expanded mental health services will provide essential support for many in the transgender community who face barriers to care.
Pritzker’s reflection on reciting the oath of office on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible highlights the responsibility leaders have to defend democracy. His refusal to “bend the knee” to authoritarianism aligns with my own determination to live authentically despite societal pressure to conform. I’ve experienced both discrimination and acceptance, and I understand the power of allies who stand up for marginalized communities. Knowing that Illinois has a governor who openly supports LGBTQ+ rights gives me hope that progress is possible, even in challenging times.
History has shown us that silence in the face of injustice allows hatred to thrive. As Governor Pritzker reminded us, it took the Nazis less than two months to dismantle a constitutional republic. We cannot afford to wait until it is too late. His story of the 20 Nazis who marched in Chicago and the 2,000 Illinoisans who came to counter-protest illustrates the power of collective action. Their courage smothered the embers of hate before they could ignite into a wildfire. This serves as a powerful reminder that everyday people have the power to shape the course of history.
For me, this is not just about politics—it is about my right to live, love, and thrive without fear. Governor Pritzker’s call to “gather your justice and humanity, Illinois” resonates deeply because I know firsthand what it means to fight for visibility and acceptance. I am committed to using my voice to advocate for those who cannot speak out and to stand in solidarity with anyone whose rights are threatened. History has taught us the dangers of silence, and I refuse to let fear dictate my future. In this moment, as authoritarianism looms on the horizon, I choose courage.
Unapologetically Sexual
By Katherine Walter
On May 30, 2025
In LGBTQ+ rights, sexuality
But I am not ashamed. Because when I say something as simple and carnal as “I like to suck dick,” I’m not being obscene—I’m declaring war on the suffocating norms that define who gets to express desire and how.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t just about sex. It’s about power.
The phrase “I like sex” is broadly acceptable when said by a cis, straight man. Even when women say it, it must be delivered with just the right balance of flirtation and modesty, wrapped in acceptable femininity. But when a transgender woman like me speaks directly and honestly about her sexuality—without euphemism, without apology—it’s treated as taboo. It becomes scandalous, political, dangerous.
And that’s exactly why I say it.
Heteronormativity doesn’t just regulate bodies—it polices desire. It dictates what kind of sex is real, what kind of sex is dirty, and which voices are allowed to claim desire at all. Trans women are often reduced to caricatures: hypersexual porn tropes or sexless tokens of pity. To say, plainly and proudly, that I love sucking dick is to reject all of that. It’s to assert my autonomy, my pleasure, and my humanity.
Yes, I am a transgender woman. Yes, I am sexual. And yes, I will speak about it.
My words weren’t unprofessional. They were inconvenient—to a system that still finds trans joy threatening and trans pleasure unspeakable. I lost a role in education for telling the truth about myself. But I gained something else: clarity. I know now that empowerment doesn’t come from fitting in. It comes from taking up space. From naming what you’re told to hide. From loving your body and your voice enough to say what they told you you shouldn’t even feel.
So I will continue to speak freely. Not because I want to provoke—but because I refuse to be erased. I want other trans women to know that they can be intelligent, nurturing, sexual, kinky, loud, soft, and bold—all at once. I want us all to know that our worth doesn’t shrink because someone else is uncomfortable with our truths.
When I say “I like to suck dick,” I’m not just being honest.
I’m being powerful.
And in a world built to silence women like me, that is revolutionary.