As Donald Trump’s second presidency gets underway, grassroots organizers are steeling themselves to protect their communities from anti-trans policies and rhetoric. There is already work to be done. 

After pouring millions into anti-trans and anti-LGBTQ ads during the election, Trump spent the first few weeks in office signing a number of rapid-fire executive orders. The first executive order, issued on inauguration day, attempted to limit the definition of sex to male and female only. Others followed suit, banning trans people from openly serving in the military, restricting gender-affirming care for minors, and rescinding gender-affirming policies in schools.

Taken together, these executive orders target everything from the safety and dignity of incarcerated trans women and accurate federal documentation to basic, life-saving health care.

“[An executive order] doesn’t carry the force of law itself,” says Sruti Swaminathan, a staff attorney at the ACLU. Indeed, opposition is mounting as these orders face significant logistical and legal challenges. But, Swaminathan says, the impact is felt immediately through a “chilling effect” that scares trans people and emboldens their detractors—cultural sentiments that can’t be challenged in the court of law.

For trans people, especially those existing at the intersection of multiple identities, the impact of anti-trans policies and rhetoric doesn’t trickle down into their lives so much as it opens the floodgates for harm.

“ It’s got the pressure of a fire hose being sprayed, and it’s not being filtered in. It’s beating into our existence,” says Nish Newton, an organizer for the Idaho-based organization Black Liberation Collective (BLC). Simple tasks like running errands, seeing friends, and other essential, enriching parts of life can feel out of reach for trans people right now. “A lot of folks don’t even feel like they can leave their homes.”

Since 2020, there has been a swell of anti-trans and anti-LGBTQ legislation, all running parallel to attacks on reproductive care, immigrant rights, and education. According to Trans Legislation Tracker, there are currently 569 active bills in the United States and nine have passed. Though some of this legislation may pass, it is important to note that the vast majority of anti-trans legislation fails, in part due to their own unpopularity and the dedicated work of organizers. (The Republican majority is paper thin in both the Senate and the House, which also may make it challenging to enact Trump’s agenda.)

Now, grassroots organizations—specifically those led by and with trans people—are uniquely poised to not only help their communities weather the storm but also challenge the policies and attitudes that harm trans people in the first place.

“I see the moment as an opportunity. An opportunity for trans leaders to really, really get engaged, unite, and speak in one voice,” says Sean Ebony Coleman, founder and CEO of Destination Tomorrow, a LGBTQ grassroots organization working in New York City, Atlanta, and Washington, D.C. “Folks that understand history know that we’ve seen some of these tactics before, so that means there are ways to push back.”

On the Front Lines

Political actions on the state and federal level have a direct impact on the day-to-day lives of trans people. Bathroom bills, for example, which require people to use the restroom based on the sex assigned to them at birth, can mean that trans people have to plan their days around when they will use the restroom or risk potential harm. 

“You learn to navigate systems and places early when you are trans,” says TC Caldwell, executive director of The Knights and Orchid (TKO) Society, a Black trans- and queer-led organization in Alabama. “I make sure to use the bathroom before I go out to eat or shop. Why? Because most places don’t have gender-neutral bathrooms. If I do have to go, I go to the bathroom of the gender I’m called the most for that day because safety is our priority when going out as trans people.”

But in reciprocal fashion, grassroots actions—providing mutual care, building resources, and developing effective programming—can ripple upward and bring systemic and cultural change.

“We know our communities best,” says Caldwell. “We are on the front lines, responding to crises in real time while also working to dismantle the systemic barriers that create those crises.” 

According to Caldwell, TKO Society uses a mutual aid and care-based approach to provide comprehensive health and wellness services to their community. “We focus on building networks of trust and support, leverage community knowledge to design programs that actually work.” 

Caldwell says the care coordination program, for example, has helped hundreds of people access affirming health care and secure stable housing. “We’re expanding those efforts by partnering with other grassroots collectives to scale up.”

“When people are turned away from shelters or denied health care because of their identity, we step in—not just to provide immediate support but to advocate for systemic change through education, coalition-building, and policy work,” says Caldwell. “This approach isn’t just about filling gaps. It’s about building infrastructure that uplifts and empowers marginalized people.”

And unlike top-down charities or larger, more hierarchical organizations, grassroots networks have the ability to adapt in real time to the changing needs of their communities. 

BLC organizer Nish Newton says their organization used to rely on a mutual-aid-focused model of fundraising, but soon they found that “[the model] wasn’t really proactively pouring into folks and sustaining their wellness.” To move away from this more “reactive,” emergency-based model, BLC launched a guaranteed-income program in 2023, BLC PWR, which provides Black trans Idahoans with $1,000 monthly stipends. 

This year, Newton says they are already reimagining the program to better respond to their community’s feedback around financial support and other direct services. “It has been really, really beautiful in a lot of ways to shed our skin every year, and it doesn’t really fit into the mold of a lot of traditional organizations,” says Newton. “ It’s an innovative way of existing, but essentially we make ourselves and we break ourselves every year.”

Trans Rights Start Close to Home

In addition to providing direct services, there are a few main ways grassroots organizers push back against transphobic policies at the federal level—and much of it starts close to home.

Though it may sound simple, this type of relationship-building—especially with Congressional members who vote on far-reaching federal policies—can help set a political agenda that’s actually aligned with the overall country’s expressed desires. (After all, most voters, including Republicans, think the government should be less involved in legislating the lives of trans people, according to a recent survey by Data for Progress.)

Destination Tomorrow founder Coleman says speaking to elected officials about funding, policy work, and anti-trans legislation helps “connect the dots” for politicians who otherwise may not truly understand the scope and impact of these initiatives. “If [elected officials] don’t see [trans people] as their constituents, I think it’s easy to harm us,” Coleman says. “When folks pass these ridiculous laws, executive orders in this case, it is done without the thought of how it’s honestly going to impact people.”

This manner of networking also allows advocates to play offense, nudging policymakers to introduce bills that would both enshrine and expand rights for trans people. Currently, 14 states and the District of Columbia have passed “shield” laws that protect access to gender-affirming care, according to the Movement Advancement Project. Two additional states, Arizona and New Jersey, have protective executive orders in place. 

Introducing protective policies at the local, state, and federal levels makes it harder for new transphobic legislation to take root—and if there are more progressive LGBTQ elected officials, then more protective, trans-affirming policies will possibly be passed. In Minnesota, for example, the state’s first openly trans legislator, Rep. Leigh Finke, made sure a “trans refuge” law was a priority among Democratic leadership. And despite an attempted filibuster from opponents, the bill passed both the state’s House and Senate. 

In 2023, Minnesota’s “trans refuge” law went into effect, offering protection to patients and clinicians seeking gender-affirming care, including those coming from out of state. “Hundreds of people and families within the first six months moved to Minnesota,” Finke told NPR. “I’m sure that’s a major undercount.”

In the Courts

Despite these efforts, some anti-trans legislation will surely pass. When proposed anti-trans legislation becomes laws, litigation offers an important guardrail against discrimination. Litigation, which resolves rights-based disputes through the courts, can retroactively challenge unjust policies, enforce civil rights laws, and set far-reaching legal precedents. 

Lawsuits start at the local or state level and can flow upriver, all the way to the Supreme Court. In 2023, three families of trans minors and a medical doctor in Tennessee filed a lawsuit to challenge the state’s law banning gender-affirming care for minors. 

Though the court’s ruling is still forthcoming, the impact of litigation similar to U.S. v. Skrmetti is twofold. Not only does the case question the legal basis of harmful, transphobic legislation, but it also provides a platform for trans people to provide alternative narratives about their lives that counter far-right fear mongering. In other words, these cases are not just legal proceedings. They are tried in the court of public opinion, too.

By mobilizing public support on behalf of vulnerable trans youth and naming bullying for what it is, ACLU staff attorney Sruti Swaminathan says it is possible to deter further policies and “reshape the political narrative around trans people in general, but also what rights we deserve.”

There’s no denying that these strategies—educating officials, introducing protective policies, litigating anti-trans discrimination, and shifting cultural narratives—are hard and slow-moving, sometimes taking years to come to fruition. Part of the value of grassroots organizations is that they tend to their communities now while still planting the seeds for a future where all trans people can thrive. 

“Every time someone gets connected to life-saving care, or finds a stable place to live, or even just feels seen and affirmed by their community, we’re chipping away at the systems designed to erase us,” says TKO Society founder TC Caldwell. “A big part of our work is to remind people that no one is disposable, and we prove that change is possible when we fight for each other.”

CORRECTION: This article was updated at 11:01 a.m. PT on Feb. 26, 2025, to update the number of active anti-trans bills circulating in the United States. Read our corrections policy here.