The Orange Emperor’s War on Trans Lives: Policies of Cruelty and Distraction

Exposing the Hidden Agendas Behind Erasure, Legal Battles, and Political Chaos

I'm sitting there, minding my own business as the Orange Emperor begins his first official tirade, and my socials are suddenly flooded with anti-trans quotes attributed to him—undoubtedly penned by his Christian nationalist backers. It’s the same tired rhetoric, repackaged and weaponised, but now with the force of an executive pen. This latest order is not simply another instance of performative cruelty; it’s a calculated assault on hard-won protections that have served as lifelines for trans people. These policies don’t exist in a vacuum. They’re part of a broader, insidious history of discrimination designed to erase us, to push us to the margins and keep us there.

Take the Zzyym Ruling, for instance. It affirmed the right of non-binary Americans to hold passports that reflect their lived realities, aligning the U.S. with international standards under the International Civil Aviation Organization. It was a landmark victory for trans rights, a recognition that gender is not confined to a binary dictated by outdated bureaucracies. Yet here we are, with an executive order poised to undermine this progress, to force trans individuals into an administrative limbo where our identities are invalidated. Similarly, the Bostock v. Clayton County ruling offered trans people vital protection against workplace discrimination, recognising that being fired for who we are is, in fact, a violation of Title VII’s prohibition on sex-based discrimination. But this new order seeks to sidestep that, carving out exemptions and leaving us vulnerable in every sphere of public life.

Then there’s PREA, a policy meant to address the appalling rates of sexual violence in prisons, which disproportionately affect trans individuals. By denying us protections under this act, this administration makes its priorities abundantly clear: punishment over justice, erasure over inclusion. These aren’t just policies; they’re acts of violence cloaked in legalese, a systemic attempt to roll back decades of progress while emboldening those who seek to harm us. It’s a reminder, yet again, that our existence is seen as negotiable, something to be debated, controlled, and ultimately erased.

Restricting Updates on Federal Documents

Restricting updates to federal documents to reflect gender identity is not just another bureaucratic inconvenience—it’s a violation of international treaty standards and a direct attack on our ability to exist with dignity. The Zzyym Ruling made it clear that the rights of trans and non-binary people to accurate identification are not just a matter of policy but of basic human decency. It brought the United States in line with International Civil Aviation Organization standards, ensuring that passports could accurately reflect the lived realities of individuals outside the gender binary. Yet here we are, watching this progress unravel at the hands of an administration determined to shove us back into categories that don’t fit, erasing us in the process. It’s a cruel regression, one that does far more than inconvenience—it jeopardises lives.

I’ve been waiting for months to get my legal documents corrected. California’s courts, which regularly comply with laws to issue orders for amended and corrected documents, have been a beacon of hope in an otherwise hostile environment. This summer, I was finally planning to have everything aligned: my name, my gender, my truth, reflected not just in the state’s records but on the federal documents that shape so much of our lives. And now, what? I’ll have corrected state documents, but mismatching federal ones, like my passport or Social Security records, with incorrect information that doesn’t reflect who I am. These inconsistencies aren’t just awkward; they’re dangerous. Mismatched documents invite scrutiny, harassment, and worse. They force us to out ourselves in situations where we should feel safe—at airports, in job applications, at the doctor’s office. They leave us vulnerable to discrimination and violence, turning everyday interactions into battlegrounds.

This is what these restrictions do: they strip us of autonomy, forcing us to navigate systems designed to deny our existence. They ensure that trans people remain trapped in an endless loop of invalidation, where even the most basic acts of self-determination—like updating a document—become Herculean tasks. Public records are not just pieces of paper; they’re the foundation of our legal recognition. When they erase us, they send a clear message: we don’t matter. Our identities are disposable, our lives negotiable. This isn’t just a logistical nightmare; it’s a deliberate act of erasure, designed to remind us at every turn that we don’t belong. It’s an injustice that forces us to fight for the most basic acknowledgement of our humanity, over and over again.

Exclusion from Anti-Discrimination Protections

Explicitly excluding trans individuals from the enforcement of anti-discrimination laws isn’t just cruel—it’s blatantly illegal. The Supreme Court’s ruling in Bostock v. Clayton County was unambiguous: discrimination based on gender identity or sexual orientation is discrimination based on sex, a direct violation of Title VII of the Civil Rights Act. This landmark decision gave trans and queer individuals critical legal protections, offering a semblance of security in a society that so often denies us even the basics. Yet this administration seems determined to rewrite the law through executive fiat, sidestepping Bostock in a bid to strip away our rights under the guise of “religious freedom” or “policy exemptions.” It’s a direct attack on the legal precedent that has been a lifeline for so many, and it undermines the very foundation of anti-discrimination protections in the United States.

The effects of this exclusion ripple far beyond the courtroom. In employment, it signals to bosses and hiring managers that trans people can be dismissed or turned away without consequence. It places us back in the precarious position of having to hide who we are to survive, knowing that our livelihoods could be stripped away simply because of our existence. In housing, it emboldens landlords to deny applications or evict tenants, leaving trans individuals disproportionately vulnerable to homelessness—a crisis that already affects our community at staggering rates. In healthcare, it gives providers an excuse to refuse treatment, forcing us to navigate a system that sees our identities not as valid but as debatable. These exclusions are more than loopholes; they’re weapons used to keep us out of public life, denying us the fundamental resources we need to thrive.

But it doesn’t stop there. By codifying these exclusions into policy, the administration is normalising broader structural discrimination. It sends a message to institutions, businesses, and communities that it’s acceptable—encouraged, even—to discriminate against us. It creates a chilling effect that extends beyond the letter of the law, embedding prejudice into every interaction and every decision we face. This isn’t just about eroding protections; it’s about ensuring that trans people remain perpetually vulnerable, trapped in cycles of poverty, marginalisation, and fear. It’s a systemic attempt to legislate us out of existence, to make it so difficult to live openly that many of us simply can’t. And for what? To appease those who fear what they don’t understand, to placate the ideologues who would rather erase us than accept that we, too, are human.

Denial of Protections for Trans Prisoners

Denying protections for trans individuals under the Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) is not just a policy failure; it’s a deliberate act of cruelty that leaves some of the most vulnerable members of our community at heightened risk of harm. PREA was established to address the endemic sexual violence in the U.S. carceral system, where trans prisoners already face disproportionately high rates of abuse. Studies have shown that trans individuals in prisons are nearly ten times more likely to be sexually assaulted than their cisgender counterparts. For many, incarceration is a nightmare of constant violence and dehumanisation, with little recourse to seek protection or justice. Stripping away these safeguards only compounds that horror, making an already precarious existence even more dangerous.

The denial of these protections isn’t abstract; it has very real, very devastating consequences. Trans prisoners are often placed in facilities that align with their assigned sex at birth rather than their lived gender, exposing them to environments where they are relentlessly targeted. They are harassed, assaulted, and demeaned by both fellow inmates and, in far too many cases, the very guards meant to protect them. Access to gender-affirming healthcare—a lifeline for many—is frequently denied outright, further compounding the psychological toll of imprisonment. These policies force trans individuals to fight not only for their dignity but for their basic survival in a system designed to break them.

Ethically, this policy is indefensible. It aligns with a punitive justice framework that prioritises retribution over rehabilitation, treating trans lives as disposable. It sends a clear message that the state is not interested in protecting those it incarcerates, particularly those who are already marginalised. The very premise of PREA was to address the systemic failures of the carceral system, to create a baseline of safety for those trapped within it. To exclude trans individuals from its protections is to abandon that mission entirely, to say that some lives are simply not worth safeguarding.

This policy does more than exacerbate existing inequalities; it legitimises them. It emboldens those who seek to harm trans prisoners and strips away any semblance of accountability for the violence they endure. It reinforces the idea that trans people don’t belong—not just in public life but even in the barest sense of institutional protection. This isn’t justice. It’s cruelty for cruelty’s sake, a calculated decision to dehumanise and erase under the guise of governance. It lays bare the systemic rot at the heart of the carceral system and its refusal to see trans lives as lives worth protecting.

What’s really going on?

What’s really going on here? On the surface, these policies look like nothing more than red meat for the Christian nationalist base—a performative nod to the ideologues who’ve hitched their agendas to the Orange Emperor’s throne. But scratch a little deeper, and the motives become clearer. These executive orders are a gift to their lawyers, who stand to rake in millions defending these legally dubious positions. Every one of these policies will be challenged in court, as they should be, and the government will also be forced to spend millions of taxpayer dollars defending what are essentially indefensible edicts. It’s a lucrative cycle, with the only losers being the trans community and the public whose resources are being squandered on these ideological battles.

And yet, this is about more than lining the pockets of their legal teams. It’s a distraction—a spectacle designed to keep us outraged and focused on these abhorrent policies whilst the real sleight of hand takes place elsewhere. Whilst we’re fighting for our basic rights, scandals are piling up at an alarming rate. There’s the pump-and-dump scheme involving the Trump Meme coin, a grift so brazen it would be laughable if it weren’t real. And let’s not forget Melania, who apparently couldn’t resist cashing in with her own version of this absurd cryptocurrency scandal. Meanwhile, a cavalcade of bizarre and unqualified appointments has turned the government into something resembling a farcical reality show. A Fox News host as Secretary of Defense? It’s almost comical, if not for the catastrophic consequences.

Then there’s the inauguration debacle, where tickets were suddenly cancelled without refunds after the event was moved indoors—an insult to those who had shelled out obscene amounts of money for access. And whilst the chaos unfolds, the emperor himself appears to be thriving. His wealth has mysteriously ballooned by nearly $100 billion since election day, a staggering figure that raises more questions than answers. How much of this circus is designed to distract us from the fact that his time in office seems to be a carefully orchestrated heist, with the country’s resources and institutions bent to serve his personal gain?

In the end, these policies and scandals aren’t isolated incidents. They’re part of a broader strategy: sow division, stoke outrage, and profit from the chaos. Whilst we’re busy fighting for survival, the empire continues to enrich itself, unchallenged and unchecked. It’s a grim reminder that behind every act of cruelty lies an agenda—one that has nothing to do with governance and everything to do with power and profit.

Final thoughts …

The broader impact of these executive orders on trans rights (aka, human rights) in the United States is impossible to overstate. They aren’t just individual policies; they’re part of a larger, deliberate effort to roll back progress and entrench trans people as second-class citizens. These actions echo a growing global trend of anti-trans policies, where governments weaponise our identities to score political points, placate reactionary bases, or distract from their own corruption and incompetence. From the UK to Hungary to the U.S., the message is the same: trans lives are disposable, trans rights negotiable, and trans existence itself something to be debated, rather than celebrated. It’s a coordinated assault, fuelled by the same ideologies of control and erasure, spreading across borders like wildfire.

These executive orders serve as a stark reminder that rights are never guaranteed—they must be defended, over and over again. They remind us that vigilance is not optional but essential, and that solidarity isn’t just a moral imperative but a survival strategy. Each attempt to marginalise us must be met with resistance, not just from trans communities but from all who understand that equality and justice are not limited resources. We must fight these policies in courtrooms, in legislatures, and in the public square, using every tool at our disposal to push back against the tide of hate.

At the same time, we must not lose sight of each other. Solidarity means more than political action; it means showing up for one another in practical, tangible ways. It means creating networks of care, amplifying trans voices (find me @jaimehoerricks.bsky.social), and refusing to let these policies define our narratives. It means refusing to be erased, no matter how loudly those in power insist we don’t belong.

As bleak as these times may feel, history has shown us that resistance works. Progress is never linear, and every backlash is a sign that the tide of change is terrifying those who benefit from the status quo. We’ve seen it before, and we will see it again. Together, we can ensure that this chapter ends the same way those in the past have—with communities standing strong, fighting back, and ultimately prevailing. The fight is far from over, but neither is our hope.