The 20th November 2024 will mark the 25th anniversary of what has become known as TDOR, Transgender Day Of Remembrance. There are many days marked in the calendar each year where we are called to be visible, to be more active, to stand up and be counted for who we are but this one strikes a particular resonance with me because it doesn’t demand any of this.

TDOR asks us to take some time out to simply remember, to think about, the real people who have lost their lives due to fear, hatred and above all, ignorance. They’re not the activists that appear in your local papers speaking out against oppression, they’re not the politicians or the priests, or the commanders in the armed forces or police trying to combat organisational transphobia, they’re your next door neighbour, your work colleague, your fellow student, the person on the checkout at the local supermarket, etc. People we meet everyday simply trying to get on with their lives just like the rest of us.

The sole reason for the first ever TDOR was to remember the black transwomen that had been murdered and were simply being forgotten. Soon it was to become an annual event that would include candlelight vigils, religious services, film screenings etc.
I have been involved in running services for TDOR since 2004, sometimes within my church, sometimes at university and sometimes in a more secular environment. There are two things that never cease to amaze me at these services, one is the diversity of people who attend (and the stories they share about why they wanted to be there) and the other is the overwhelming number of names and how even with the increase in equality legislation across most of the western hemisphere the number continues to rise.
This year, October 1 2023 to Sept 31 2024, we have 406 reports of murders and suicides that are directly related to the gender identity of the deceased. There will be many more that didn’t list the gender identity as a factor and we still only receive information from a small percentage of the countries across the world with practically no information coming from Eastern Europe and the African and Asian continents.

All the time even one person dies simply for being who they are, we must hold this vigil to make it clear that they will not be forgotten, that they are important, that their lives mattered.

Remembrance is a powerful tool. We are told that if we don’t remember the past we are likely to repeat it. On 11 November every year there is huge pomp and circumstance in the UK as we remember the lives of all those who died in the two great wars and every war since. Traffic is redirected as streets are closed across the capital cities to allow dignitaries, statespeople, politicians and royalty to lay wreaths at huge monuments. This is done to remind us of the cost of war, the cost of hatred, the cost of seeing human beings as ‘other’ and therefore to be feared and eliminated.

There are no statues or monuments to commemorate all the trans* people who have lost their lives in the war for inclusion and acceptance but that doesn’t stop us from remembering.

Speaking a name out loud, makes a person real, validates their existence, and shows you care. Let us speak their names out loud until everyone can live their lives without fear and there are no more names to speak.