吃瓜大本营

Transphobia was not a term I鈥檇 even heard of back in 2001 when I got my abortion. I hadn鈥檛 come out as trans yet, but was masculine presenting, and that was enough to make people giggle and whisper about me behind my back when I told them I was pregnant. Twenty years later, I can still hear their giggling and the embarrassment I felt.

As a Black trans man, my abortion experience was not easy, but it saved my life. I was raped during my junior year in college in Huntsville, Tex., and fell into a deep depression that only got worse when I found out I was pregnant. I knew I needed an abortion, but couldn鈥檛 afford it. It must have cost about $300, $350 back then. Finally, I got a payday loan and went to the abortion clinic around the corner from my house.

In Texas, you have to wait a day or two, which is supposed to make you think twice about what you were about to do, as if you haven鈥檛 already been thinking about it nonstop. So I waited and then came back. Both times, there were protesters outside shouting and carrying horrible signs of babies in bellies.

Abortion comes with a lot of stigma in general. For trans men, it comes with the added stigma of your gender identity. You鈥檙e doing your best to present as a man, and for some reason, people don鈥檛 associate babies with men 鈥� as if there are no fathers. Then there鈥檚 the difficulty of speaking out publicly about your abortion. Some people will say, 鈥淚f you want people to respect you as a man, don鈥檛 go around telling the whole world you鈥檙e pregnant. Then you鈥檒l only be seen as a womb-holder.鈥� But I decided to tell my story anyway.

Growing up, I always felt like the black sheep because I never saw my experience and identity represented anywhere. I didn鈥檛 fit in with the boys, and didn鈥檛 fit with the girls either. I didn鈥檛 know any other Black trans men, much less other Black trans men who had an abortion. If I鈥檇 heard any other Black trans voices when I got an abortion, I believe it would have been a lot easier. I would have been prepared for the protesters and the giggling and whispering behind my back. It would have validated my feelings and experiences, like 鈥淥h, this is something that can exist. I鈥檓 not crazy.鈥�

If sharing my story could help just one other person, then it would be worth reliving the trauma. And it wasn鈥檛 until I started telling my abortion story publicly that I found out that a lot of women in my family had abortions, too; the same family members that I was afraid of telling two decades ago. Back then, I didn't even know Black trans people existed. Since coming into my own trans identity, I鈥檝e realized that the more I share my story, the more voices like mine I find.

The conversation about reproductive justice should include trans people because we are a part of this movement. Trans people build families and have abortions, too. We have our own stories and the more our voices get heard, the more we can help others going through the same things.

Learn more about Cazembe's story below: