Olympic runner Nikki Hiltz and ACLU lawyer Chase Strangio on trans equality in the Trump era
Olympic runner Nikki Hiltz and ACLU lawyer Chase Strangio on trans equality in the Trump era
As anti-trans legislation and rhetoric continue to escalate across the U.S.—from sweeping state-level bans on gender-affirming care to renewed efforts to bar trans people from public life—trans nonbinary elite runner Nikki Hiltz and ACLU LGBTQ+ rights lawyer Chase Strangio find themselves at the intersection of justice and representation. Fresh off a historic Olympic run and record-breaking season in 2024, Hiltz has become one of the most visible trans athletes in the world. In the same year, Strangio, the codirector of the ACLU’s LGBT & HIV Project, argued a landmark case before the U.S. Supreme Court, challenging Tennessee’s ban on gender-affirming care for minors. Though their platforms differ, both emphasize the power of showing up authentically, especially in a political climate that seeks to erase trans existence. We asked the two changemakers to interview each other about the personal cost of visibility, the meaning of true allyship in business and beyond, and the LGBTQ+ trailblazers who inspire them to push for progress.This conversation has been edited for length and clarity. Nikki Hiltz: Within the past four years, [you’ve] been everywhere fighting the good fight. I came out in 2021, which, at the time, had the most legislation passed [targeting] LGBTQ+ and, specifically, trans people. Every year since, it’s been more and more. Chase Strangio: I do remember you coming out and a number of cases involving trans athletes in sports. In 2021, the first [anti-trans] sports bill passed, which was in Idaho. I was really focused on sports at the time. Trans inclusion and participation in sports was something that people were very tentative about. Athletes have such an important, critical voice. Hearing and seeing [you] has been a source of inspiration and a lifeline in terms of representation and advocacy. Just seeing you achieve has been really thrilling because so much of trans discourse often is about all of the ways that we’re targeted. But I really love watching and celebrating trans success. One thing I’m struggling with a lot right now is that I actually don’t like being [so] visible [in the public eye]. And yet, I don’t want to disappear. It’s become a part of how I do the work. I’m curious how you feel about being visible and being highly seen in all of these different ways. Hiltz: We’re on a big stage, especially with something like the Olympics. It’s the biggest global sporting event ever. It doesn’t necessarily come naturally for me. I’ve made change through visibility. After the Olympics, I remember a mom messaging me saying that her kid had come out to her as nonbinary, and she knew what that meant because she followed me. Just by being me and running on the biggest stage, I normalized this identity that’s been so dehumanized. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I’ve been running my fastest after coming out. Where do you see your visibility play a role in your work? Strangio: In 2013, there was this real absence of people in my field who were trans lawyers speaking out about trans advocacy. It felt important to push myself because I knew on some level that visibility was going to have an impact in both where I’m engaging with lawyers and then also for the public. Leading up to the marriage equality [Supreme Court ruling], this backlash was looming and increasing toward trans people. Very few people who were trans were speaking in the media about being trans in a way that resonated for me. I remember this moment of saying [to myself], “You have all of the resources in the world. You have support. You have a responsibility.” I have experienced similar things to those that you mentioned: Young people reaching out to me and saying, “Seeing you made me realize I could do this.” It’s that reminder that there’s so much fullness in trans life and being a model of that feels absolutely essential. Our power comes through our unapologetic insistence on being ourselves in spaces that don’t expect us to. Hiltz: I really relate to that. I feel like we’re both just two people who are really good at our jobs. Strangio: There’s all different types of visibility. The first way in which my visibility sparked change was being an out trans lawyer at the ACLU, a 100-year-old institution. I was the only trans lawyer there. By being visible in that space and engaging with lawyers and other staff, it allowed the ACLU to shift over time, which I think is one of the biggest impacts I’ve had, because it is such a large and powerful institution in legal advocacy. I feel that I am an embodied refutation of [our opponents’] arguments about trans life. Before I arrived, there were just fewer opportunities for staff in the legal department to work directly with trans people who were also lawyers. With more trans people coming into the space, we are able to help our colleagues understand the nuances of our legal arguments and the realities of our lived experiences in more concrete ways
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