Language has always felt personal to me, especially when it comes to how I describe my own life. Words like “transgender woman,” “transgender female,” and “MTF” are often treated as interchangeable, but they do not feel interchangeable from the inside. Each one carries a slightly different emphasis, and over time I have become more intentional about which I use and why.
I call myself a transgender woman because that is the role I occupy in society. It reflects how I move through the world, how I am perceived, and how I understand my place in social space. The word woman matters to me. It names my gender, not my medical history. “Transgender” simply describes the path I took to live authentically. When I say I am a transgender woman, I am asserting that I am a woman—fully—and that my past does not disqualify me from that category.
At the same time, I recognize that “transgender female” can be an accurate description of my embodied reality. I rarely use it, because it sounds clinical. It feels like language pulled from a medical chart rather than from lived experience. Still, accuracy matters to me. My hormone levels are typical of a cisgender female. I do not produce testosterone. I no longer have testicles. While I do not have a vagina, my endocrine profile and much of my physiology align with female norms. In a biological sense, something real and measurable has shifted. My transition was not only social; it was physiological.
That is why I no longer relate to the term “MTF,” or male-to-female. It suggests movement. It suggests that I am in transit, or that I carry maleness forward into the present as an active descriptor. I do not experience myself that way. “Male” was an assignment imposed on me at birth, not an identity I inhabited in any meaningful sense. My transition is not an ongoing crossing from one category into another. It was a process with a direction, yes—but it is not my current state of being. I do not feel like I am male-to-female. I feel like I am female, and socially, a woman.
For me, the distinction between gender and sex is not abstract. “Woman” describes my gender role, my social identity, and my place in cultural structures. “Female” describes aspects of my body as it exists now, after years of medical transition. I rarely lead with the latter because I do not want to reduce myself to anatomy or hormone panels. I am not a medical case study. I am a person. Still, I will not deny that my biology has changed in profound ways. To pretend otherwise would feel dishonest.
What matters most is that I am not in a perpetual state of becoming. I am not suspended between categories. I have lived in this body, in this identity, for years. My transition feels complete to me. The language I choose reflects that sense of arrival.
So I call myself a transgender woman because it captures my lived reality in society. I acknowledge that “transgender female” can describe my physiology, even if I rarely use it in everyday conversation. And I leave “MTF” in the past, where it belongs—as a description of a journey that has already reached its destination.
As a transgender woman, my journey of self-discovery and affirmation has been deeply intertwined with my understanding of sexuality, identity, and autonomy. I identify as a sex-positive transfeminist, which means I believe in celebrating the full range of human experience, embracing sexual expression, and challenging the societal norms that seek to limit or shame it.
The Criminalization of Transgender Identity
By Katherine Walter
On March 6, 2025
In LGBTQ+ rights
While Illinois has upheld legal protections for transgender individuals, the national wave of anti-trans legislation is deeply concerning. These laws do not only harm those living in conservative states but also create ripple effects that extend nationwide, even reaching those in progressive areas. The increasing criminalization of transgender identity threatens fundamental civil rights, healthcare access, and the ability of transgender people to live openly and safely.
State legislatures across the country have introduced and, in some cases, passed extreme laws targeting transgender identity and gender-affirming care. Some states have proposed criminalizing transgender people for identifying as a gender different from what was assigned at birth, labeling this as fraud and imposing severe legal penalties. Others have removed gender identity from anti-discrimination protections, allowing increased discrimination against transgender individuals in employment, housing, and public services. Laws have also been passed that restrict or even ban access to gender-affirming medical care, not only for minors but in some cases for adults as well.
At the federal level, executive orders and policy changes have further undermined transgender rights. Government efforts to redefine gender strictly based on biological sex have effectively stripped transgender individuals of legal recognition in various federally funded programs. Funding for gender-affirming healthcare has also been targeted, making it more difficult for transgender individuals to access essential medical services, even in states that support such care. These measures reinforce discrimination at a national level and create a legal environment where transgender people are increasingly marginalized.
For those living in states like Illinois, where transgender rights are legally protected, it may seem as though these laws will not have an impact. However, the reality is far more complex. Federal policies can override state protections, particularly when it comes to funding for healthcare programs. Clinics that provide gender-affirming care may struggle to maintain services if federal funding is restricted. Additionally, the growing number of transgender individuals fleeing hostile states in search of healthcare and safety could place a strain on resources in states that offer protection.
Beyond the legal and healthcare implications, the rise of anti-trans legislation contributes to a culture of hostility and discrimination. Even in states with protective laws, the national conversation around transgender rights affects public attitudes, often leading to increased discrimination, workplace bias, and violence against transgender people. Hate crimes targeting transgender individuals have been on the rise, fueled by rhetoric that paints them as threats rather than human beings deserving of dignity and respect. Traveling becomes riskier for transgender people, as neighboring states with restrictive laws create environments where something as simple as using a public restroom or presenting as one’s authentic self could lead to harassment, arrest, or violence.
As a transgender woman living in Illinois, the inconsistency of protections across different states creates a constant sense of uncertainty. Rights that are protected in one place can disappear the moment state lines are crossed. The ability to live freely and without fear should not be dependent on geography, yet that is the reality that many transgender people face. Even in a progressive state, the fear of national policy changes and the emboldening of anti-trans sentiment weighs heavily on daily life.
The economic and social consequences of these laws extend beyond the transgender community. Businesses are pulling events and operations from states that pass extreme anti-trans laws, leading to financial losses. Universities in these states are seeing declines in applications from LGBTQ+ students, affecting campus diversity. If the spread of these laws continues, even states that have supported transgender rights may face political pressure to conform to restrictive national policies.
At its core, the push to criminalize transgender identity is a moral and ethical crisis. These laws deny transgender people their dignity, autonomy, and basic human rights. The argument that such laws are meant to protect children or uphold traditional values is nothing more than a justification for discrimination. Medical professionals overwhelmingly agree that gender-affirming care is essential and life-saving. The refusal to recognize transgender identities and the restriction of medical care only lead to higher rates of depression, anxiety, and suicide among transgender individuals. These laws are not about protecting anyone—they are about controlling and erasing a marginalized group.
The continued expansion of anti-trans laws should concern everyone, not just those directly affected. When governments begin rolling back rights for one group, history has shown that other marginalized communities will soon be targeted. Today, transgender people face the brunt of these attacks, but tomorrow, it could be anyone whose identity or autonomy does not align with the political agenda of those in power. If these laws are allowed to stand, they will embolden further government overreach into personal identity, medical autonomy, and individual freedoms.
Addressing this crisis requires action. Elections matter, and voting for candidates who support transgender rights is crucial at every level of government. Legal challenges to these laws are ongoing, and organizations fighting for transgender rights need support. Social advocacy is also critical—challenging anti-trans rhetoric, educating others, and standing up for transgender individuals in everyday life all contribute to pushing back against this wave of discrimination. Protecting the most vulnerable members of the transgender community is essential, whether through direct financial support, providing safe spaces, or amplifying their voices.
The criminalization of transgender identity is not about safety or protecting society—it is about control. The ability to live as one’s authentic self should never be a political debate. No one should have to fear losing their rights, their healthcare, or their safety simply for existing. This fight is about human dignity, and it is one that cannot be ignored.