the return of the trans underground The resurgence of underground organizing among trans communities reflects a critical response to increasing societal and governmental hostility.
the return of the trans underground
The Legacy of Peggie Ames
In the early 1970s, long before the advent of social media and a decade prior to the rise of internet forums, a woman named Peggie Ames emerged as a pivotal figure for trans women in New York state. Born in Buffalo, Ames dedicated years to working with gay rights organizations across rural and suburban Western New York. In an era devoid of digital connectivity, meeting other trans individuals outside the densely populated boroughs of New York City was a formidable challenge. However, through her involvement with the Erickson Educational Foundation, which funded research on trans medical care, and the Mattachine Society of the Niagara Frontier, a local offshoot of the pre-Stonewall gay rights movement, Ames cultivated an extensive social network of trans women and their cisgender allies.
After being forcibly outed in 1973, Ames became one of the few openly transsexual women with a public profile at that time. This visibility positioned her as a vital resource for other trans individuals seeking connection. By the end of the decade, she estimated knowing around 100 trans people in the Western New York area alone. As a public figure, she felt a profound responsibility to help unite the scattered members of her community.
Underground Networks in the ’70s and ’80s
Ames was not alone in her efforts; several trans women operated similar underground social networks during the 1970s and 1980s. These networks functioned through a system of correspondence: a well-connected trans woman would receive letters from others across the country, then respond by sharing contact information for other trans individuals she had previously connected with. In a time when many trans people were still in the closet and felt isolated, these pen pal networks served as a crucial lifeline.
Shifting Paradigms of Identity
The model of trans activism that emerged in the 1970s appears quaint when juxtaposed with today’s online communities. The terminology used by trans individuals has evolved significantly; the term “transgender” gained prominence, while some have recently reclaimed “transsexual” to emphasize the material realities of living in a trans body. This reclamation reflects a broader rejection of the utopian, assimilationist identity politics that characterized the latter half of the previous decade.
The 2010s witnessed a surge in trans visibility and identity, propelled by social media, policy victories, and high-profile representations in popular culture, such as Laverne Cox. This era seemed to herald a progressive shift for LGBTQ rights, suggesting an end to the long-standing discrimination and shame faced by trans individuals. However, the subsequent backlash against trans rights has been severe and alarming.
The Backlash Against Trans Rights
The recent campaign to blame trans individuals for the killing of Charlie Kirk exemplifies the intensifying anti-trans backlash. This movement has evolved from the fringe obsessions of minor celebrities and doxxing forums to a mainstream fascist agenda, gaining support from high levels of government. In a matter of decades, trans people transitioned from relative obscurity to being scapegoated by reactionary forces, absurdly accused of gun violence they are statistically unlikely to commit. This has resulted in a media landscape rife with bad-faith debates and discriminatory legislation that challenges their right to exist publicly.
For many trans individuals, this situation feels insurmountable. Once hopeful that history was bending in their favor, countless trans people now navigate their lives in a digital public sphere while facing an authoritarian surveillance state that has declared them enemies. This paradox raises a critical question: how can trans individuals adapt their activism in the face of such hostility?
Reassessing Online Activism
While some may view the current climate as a cause for despair, it can also be seen as an impetus to change tactics. Social media, once heralded as a revolutionary tool, has morphed into a mechanism of surveillance and distraction. Instead of fostering political power and community organization, many find themselves caught in a cycle of doomscrolling through the opinions of billionaires like Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg.
During the Trump administration, AI-driven social media surveillance intensified, with contracts established with multiple companies to analyze social media posts for federal agencies like ICE. The rise of facial recognition technology, combined with transphobic policing in public spaces, poses new risks for trans individuals and anyone whose appearance defies gender norms. The potential for doxxing and other forms of harassment looms large for trans individuals engaging online.
Embracing the Underground
In light of these challenges, it may be time to reconsider the role of the public internet as a primary tool for political activism. This does not necessitate abandoning digital communication altogether, but rather reevaluating the logic behind the necessity of public visibility in our lives. For queer and trans individuals to thrive, a return to underground organizing may be essential, learning when to be visible and when to exercise discretion.
The Concept of “Going Stealth”
In her work, Toby Beauchamp discusses the historical context of state surveillance as a means of policing trans and gender-nonconforming bodies. The term “going stealth” refers to the practice of selectively obscuring one’s trans status—not as deception, but as a means of regaining control over personal safety. This approach is often a response to a society that assigns suspicion and guilt to individuals whose identities do not conform to societal norms.
Recent efforts by the Trump administration to nullify gender marker changes on identification documents further illustrate the state’s intent to make trans status visible, thereby subjecting individuals to discrimination in various public spaces. Given these realities, it is unsurprising that more trans individuals are opting for lifestyles that prioritize personal safety over online visibility.
Demiground: A Hybrid Approach
Trans author Margaret Killjoy introduces the term “demiground” to describe a potential hybrid activism that compartmentalizes online and offline lives into discrete categories, each with varying levels of visibility and risk. This framework allows individuals to maintain a “palatable” online persona while prioritizing in-person communication and offline connections that may unfold in more discreet ways.
The goal is not to retreat from online spaces but to cultivate a disciplined approach to digital presence. Killjoy emphasizes the importance of creating an inviting demiground, where obscurity from state surveillance is not only politically valuable but also contributes to a more fulfilling life.
Lessons from History
This hybrid approach is not a novel concept; it has been practiced by marginalized communities, including sex workers, for years. In contemporary queer and trans circles, there is a growing emphasis on moving discussions to encrypted platforms like Signal or server-based platforms like Discord, which can be subject to legal scrutiny. However, the focus should remain on the mindset guiding the use of these tools. Regular check-ins via encrypted chats can complement face-to-face organizing efforts.
Ultimately, online tools should facilitate, not replace, the connections and local organizing that are vital for the survival of queer and trans individuals. As the political landscape grows increasingly hostile, it is crucial to recognize the essential work being done underground and the various levels of community engagement that exist.
Conclusion
The activism rooted in underground networks, exemplified by figures like Peggie Ames, serves as a reminder that queer and trans individuals have historically found ways to survive outside mainstream visibility. While the rise of online communities has empowered many, it is essential to continuously evaluate the effectiveness of these tools in serving the needs of marginalized populations. The ad hoc networks established by trans women in the past may not serve as a blueprint for future activism, but they highlight the enduring resilience and adaptability of queer and trans communities.
Source: Original report
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Last Modified: October 14, 2025 at 6:36 pm
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