Trans* Talk: Grief

The Evergreen Echo

**CW: death, murder, grief

On May 10, at the University of Washington, 19-year-old Juniper Blessing was stabbed to death in the laundry room of her student housing. The following week, hundreds of people came together to honor her memory, creating a memorial outside of the University’s main library. Among the flowers and notes were small Trans Pride flags and a chalked message: “Protect Trans Youth.” 

I encourage you to read more about Juniper, her passion for singing, her field of study (atmospheric science), and the love the community held for her. On Trans Day of Remembrance, I am certain that those of us here in Seattle will share an extra moment of silence for her, as we do with all of those we have lost. 

This article is the hardest one I’ve ever had to write. I don’t say that lightly or with an ounce of hyperbole. I mean it: This is hard. For a while, I toyed with writing something else entirely, to focus on what I usually do—the silver linings. While I report on hard topics and bad news for our community, I feel like I can always twist some part of it into good, or somehow impart that it’s not all bad, that good people remain, that good stories remain, and that we can be the writers and owners of those good stories. Then, I saw the pictures of Juniper’s memorial, cried for a while, and sat down to write.

I am a believer in hope, in joy, and in living fully as yourself as a means of resistance. I say it in every Trans* Talk article, in every conversation with a friend, and I mean it. Despite all of the injustice we, the Trans* community, have faced, I maintain my belief that love will conquer all. I believe good prevails, and empathy is one of the most important tools we have as people. Radical joy was not my default; it took work to get to a place where I even feel joy, or a place where I feel like I am being my truest, fullest self. But hearing about Juniper rattled me, and my beliefs, to the core. 

According to Remembering Our Dead, a website linked to Trans Day of Remembrance which houses the names of Trans individuals who have lost their lives due to violence or suicide, we have lost 11 siblings in the US since the start of 2026 (as of May 7, when the site was last updated, making Juniper Blessing the twelfth). Last year, we remembered 73 deaths in the US and 77 the year before. Since 2019, we have stayed around 70. That’s 70 of our loved ones, 70 of our siblings, our children, our parents, our relatives. And with anti-Trans* legislation and rhetoric all around us, we can only expect the number to rise. The grief is immense and ever-expanding, like ripples on the surface of water. My heart aches for all of them, for those I knew and those I didn’t. 

The Evergreen Echo

It is hard to maintain the belief that joy and life is an act of resistance when we have lost so many, and it becomes hard to defend. I often catch myself wondering if I am doing enough. Do I donate enough money? Do I attend enough protests? Do I say enough? Do I write enough? What more can I be doing? Is it wrong to live joyously when so many people are hurting? Is it heartless?

I am not sure if I know the answers to all of that myself. But what I can say is that I always come back to this: There are people out there who want to see us suffering. They want us to hide. They want us to disappear. There are people who believe that what we are and who we are is an illness, that it’s wrong and sinful, that being Trans* is a horrible affliction. And in my mind, there is no better way to resist these people and prove them wrong than to be ourselves, happily, and out loud. There is no better way to empower each other than to speak up about how magical it is to be who we are, and to prove to each other that being Trans* is not a disease but a gift. There is no better way to honor those of us who have been lost than to celebrate their life.

Being joyful is not a passive act—it takes great effort. In a world like the one we live in, finding small pockets of happiness becomes something we must work for. When I find joy in a new haircut or a pair of shorts that fit, these are the ways I push back. I refuse to make myself small, I refuse to hide, I refuse to break down. With effort, I live authentically. With effort, I survive and find joy. And with that joy, I resist. 

Rest in Peace, Juniper Blessing.