A cisgender friend of mine recently asked me if I, or other trans women, saw being a “trans woman” or “trans” in general as a sort of intermediary identity. She wanted to know if at some point —whether due to where we are in transition, or how others perceive us — we might decide to drop the “trans” and simply call ourselves “women.”

I had never been asked this question before.

In fact, it was a pleasant change of pace. When you’re trans, and a trans woman in particular, you get used to people wanting to deny the validity of your gender. So, to have someone wonder if at some point we’d remove the “qualifier” on our gender was kind of the opposite of what I’m used to.

However, the general idea lying in the question— that “trans” might function as a qualifier — is not new.

A similar question is brought up by Jen Richards toward the end of episode nine of the podcast Queery with Cameron Esposito. At around the 56 minute mark, Richards relates a question that Eve Ensler — of The Vagina Monologues fame —shared with her that comes up in some feminist circles when talking about trans issues. The question was why trans women always “other” themselves by referring to themselves as “trans women,” rather than just “women.” After all, these feminists say, if we were to just call ourselves “women” we would be able to participate in the mainstream women’s movement more directly.

Richards correctly points out that this question evidences a lack of understanding. After all, it ignores the fact that many “feminists” have gone to great lengths to try to tell trans women that we can never be women. So we don’t “other” ourselves by calling ourselves “trans women” so much as we are “othered” by some cisgender folks who claim that because we are trans we are not women.

Further, even when we are “included,” the mainstream women’s movement tends to erase or gloss over our needs. This sort of erasure is not unique. The predominantly white, cisgender, heterosexual, and upper-middle class narrative of the mainstream women’s movement does a poor job of accounting for the multitude of different experiences women can have — there is no one “women’s experience.” In fact, this realization is the underpinning of intersectional feminism.

While intersectional spaces are generally more welcoming and validating of women whose experiences diverge in some way from the mainstream narrative, it still isn’t entirely uncommon for trans women to be erased or marginalized even in some so-called “intersectional” spaces. Whereas cisgender women with different experiences are all understood to be women despite their differences, some otherwise intersectional feminists still believe that there is a categorical difference between “trans women” and “women.” So, we are often left to fend for ourselves and fight for our own rights without the support of the wider women’s movement.

G iven this context, when I responded to my friend’s question, I touched first on the fact that trans women are women.

“Trans” is not a qualifier, it is a descriptor. In other words, trans women are not separate and distinct from other women. We are simply a specific type of woman — one belonging to the same overarching category as all other women.

With that out of the way, I touched on how keeping “trans” as part of our identity helps us advocate for our needs. Dropping the “trans” makes that sort of advocacy difficult by erasing what it is that makes us unique. Keeping “trans” also increases our visibility, which helps to support other trans folks and ideally contributes to the demystification and normalization of trans folks in society.

However, I did concede that there are definitely days where I’ve been tempted to stop referencing the trans aspects of my identity. Even with the many and various privileges I benefit from, the stigma that comes with being trans can be a lot to bear at times. So, being able to “drop” that stigma by no longer referencing my trans history and how it plays into my identity as a woman isn’t without its appeal to me as an individual.

This might explain why some trans women do cease to reference the trans aspects of their identity.

This is particularly common for those of us who “go stealth.” Trans women who go stealth are perceived/treated as cis women without a second thought and without anyone ever knowing that they were ever assigned anything other than “female” at birth. For many of these folks the mental calculus is clear, “Should I allow others to treat me just like every other woman or should I put myself at risk of discrimination, stigmatization, and violence. Yeah… I’m going to go with option number one.” In the past, and in many areas today, eventually going stealth was the ultimate goal of many trans women.

However, we need not “go stealth” to drop the “trans” descriptor day to day. Sometimes, trans women will drop it in certain contexts to escape at least some of the stigma of being trans. Sometimes, we’ll do it out of safety concerns. And sometimes, we’ll do it because we don’t consider the fact that we were assigned male at birth to be anyone else’s business or ultimately important to others understanding us.

All of these are valid reasons to stop referencing the “trans” aspects of our identities, and I would never tell anyone who did not want to carry the descriptor “trans” that they have to carry it.

T hat said, it makes me angry that society has made being trans into something that some trans folks are reticent to mention, let alone celebrate or call attention to.

In fact, it is society’s stigmatization and marginalization of trans folks — and the anger that it provoked in me — that ultimately made me decide not to drop the “trans” descriptor. It even encouraged me to be out as a trans woman publicly in the hope that I could use what little visibility I could muster in order to advocate for myself and others like me.

When it comes to those who openly identify as trans women, this “stick it to the man” posture is not rare.

I’m sure there is some sort of psycho-analysis that could be done to explain why it is I and other trans women often choose to bear the stigma of being trans when we could avoid it, or mitigate it somewhat. I have no doubt that for many of us, our experiences have created in us a complete inability to sit down and shut up when it comes to these things. It’s just not something we can do — no matter how appealing it is.

So, many of us find it important to not only assert the fact that we are women, but that we are trans women. Being trans is a point of pride and not something we would want to hide — even if we could.

In my own case, I feel that the “trans” descriptor ties me to a community that is often fraught with struggle and pain, but which also displays a strength and resolve above and beyond what many people are capable of. The everyday bravery present in the actions of members of my community is immeasurable. So my being a “trans woman” reminds me of the strength of my community and inspires me to be a better person.

In fact, I have come to believe that the “trans” tacked onto my womanhood is not only not a qualifier, it is an accolade. Better yet, it is an honorific. It is a descriptor I wear with pride because to not wear it, or not take pride in it, is to deny my community and the value that we bring to the table.

Sure, many of us could stop referencing the “trans” aspects of our experiences, blend into society, and appease a certain group of feminists that are o.k. thinking of us as women so long as we don’t draw attention to ourselves or claim any value in experiences that they do not share. But at what cost? We are already women. There is nothing to gain in erasing the fact we are trans, and so much to lose.

So do some trans women decide to stop referencing the trans aspects of their identity/experience in favor of a more “straightforward” womanhood? Sure. That is 100% their decision, and I support them in making that decision. But that ain’t me.