Omission is a Choice: Why Erasing the "T" Matters

They didn’t just cut a lifeline, they cut a letter.
​
In recent weeks, the Trump administration ended funding for the specialized suicide prevention service for LGBTQ+ youth through the national 988 hotline, an option that had been literally saving lives. That act alone is cruel. But in the official statement explaining the decision, the agency referred only to “LGB+ youth services.” The “T” was gone. Not just from the hotline, but from the sentence. Transgender youth, who already face disproportionate rates of depression, bullying, and suicide, weren’t just abandoned. They were erased.

A lot of attention has been rightly paid to the hotline’s removal. But I can’t stop thinking about that missing letter. Because what it reveals is harder to headline. In so many modern culture wars, the political right at least pretends to offer a rationale, but in this case, there was no attempt to justify or explain the decision.

Consider recent examples. When same-sex marriage was being debated, conservative groups claimed it threatened the sanctity of traditional marriages. Faulty logic, yes. But it was logic of a kind. With DEI, the argument is that merit is being sacrificed, that white people are being passed over, that diversity compromises excellence. The data says otherwise, but it’s a claim someone could debate. The same applies for immigration. Appeals to public safety and economic strain peddle fear not facts, but they are at least still framed as policy.

What’s happening to transgender people, especially youth, is different. There’s no argument, just silent erasure. For instance, a recent Supreme Court ruling lets parents opt their children out of lessons that conflict with their religious views. That means books with transgender characters can be skipped. Not challenged, not debated, just skipped. It’s a quiet way to not just pass down values, but to shield the next generation from seeing the world as it is.

This is the omission bias in action. The Trolley Problem is the classic example, but essentially, we’re more likely to excuse damage done by inaction than by action. If the Administration had issued a press release attacking transgender youth, it might have made headlines. But removing a letter? Most people won’t notice.

Eliminating funding was a policy decision. Deleting the “T” was a value statement. It is part of a broader political effort to make transgender people disappear; first from sports, then from schools, now from law, and if they get their way, from language itself. And the most dissonant part of all this? Many of the people behind it act in the name of faith. They believe a God they’ve never seen but not the human being standing right in front of them.
​
But transgender people are here, regardless of what acronyms a federal agency decides to acknowledge. We choose whether to accept the silence. The best way to counteract the omission bias is with deliberate action. For every person who refuses to acknowledge someone’s humanity, there must be two who affirm it without hesitation. In moments like this, allyship is more than a gesture, it’s a responsibility.