Blending In, Standing Tall: My Quiet Trans Journey in a Loud World

In October 2023, PinkNews reported a troubling rise in anti-trans hate crimes across the UK. According to data from the Home Office, there were 145,214 hate crimes recorded by police in England and Wales in 2022–2023, with transphobic hate crimes rising by 11% to 4,732 offences. The report suggested that this increase may be linked to the intensifying debate around trans rights, stoked by political rhetoric, media narratives, and social media discourse. Prime Minister Rishi Sunak, for instance, claimed at the Conservative Party conference that Britons were being “bullied” into believing that people can be any sex they want, a comment that many LGBTQ+ advocates argue dehumanises trans individuals and legitimises hostility.

This is the climate we find ourselves in. One where trans lives are politicised, where identities become battlegrounds, and where visibility can sometimes mean vulnerability.

There’s something quietly radical about simply living your life. Not marching, not shouting, not demanding, just being. As a trans female, I’ve often reflected on why I haven’t been targeted by hate in the way others in the trans community sadly have. The answer, I think, lies in the way I’ve chosen to navigate the world: not by foregrounding my trans identity, but by blending into society as the female I am.

I don’t get hate because I don’t invite the spotlight. I don’t walk into a room demanding validation or correction. I walk in as Khloe. A female, a tech expert, a parent, a partner, someone who loves cars, planes and nerdy stuff and keeping life moving forward. That’s what people see. That’s what I present.

This isn’t about shame. It’s not about denying who I am. It’s about agency; my right to live authentically without having to constantly explain, defend, or justify. I’ve done the emotional work. I’ve done the medical work. And I’ve earned the right to move through this world with dignity.

But even though I don’t suffer from hate directly, I am worried. Not for me, but for those who haven’t had the privilege, support, or even the choice to blend in. Young trans people still discovering who they are. People who are unapologetically visible, and who, simply by existing, are painted as threats or provocateurs.

I see a rise in hate crimes, especially against trans people. I see politicians using identities as political footballs. I hear the rhetoric, the headlines, the soundbites designed to inflame and divide. And I worry. Not because I’m scared for myself, but because I know that when society becomes hostile, no one is truly safe forever.

It’s easy to blame activists, to say that visibility, or assertiveness, or protest is what provokes backlash. It does, there’s no doubt about that. But that’s not the full story. The real problem is the reaction to any form of progress. When a marginalised group gains ground, there’s always a cultural pushback. And those in power often stoke that fear for political gain.

I don’t think activists get it right. But I also don’t think blending in should be the only path to safety. People shouldn’t have to pass or hide just to be respected. I’ve chosen a quieter road, but that doesn’t mean I don’t admire those who stand tall and visible. Their courage creates space for all of us.

So, no, I’m not suffering from hate. But I walk through the world aware. I walk with empathy. Because the safety I enjoy is fragile, and built on years of effort. Not just mine, but the brave voices who refused to be silent.

I don’t want to be a symbol. I don’t want to be a protest. I just want to be Khloe. But I also know that my quiet life is only possible because others chose to be loud. And for that, I am grateful, even as I remain quietly, proudly, myself.