But this distinction falls apart under scrutiny. Sexual orientation is defined by gender. A lesbian is a woman who loves women. But what does "woman" mean? The transphobic answer is narrow and biological. The inclusive answer—the one that has saved countless lives—is that womanhood (and manhood, and non-binary identity) is self-determined.

This argument usually rests on a flawed premise: that being gay is about "who you go to bed with," while being trans is about "who you go to bed as."

This is the work: to ensure that LGBTQ culture doesn't become a hierarchy where gay white men sit at the top and trans people of color struggle at the bottom. True pride is intersectional or it is nothing. The transgender community is not an "add-on" to gay culture. It is a foundational pillar. The fight for trans healthcare is the fight for all queer healthcare. The fight for trans youth to play sports is the fight against gender policing that hurts butch lesbians and effeminate gay boys. The fight for trans women to use the bathroom is the fight for every person who doesn't fit a binary mold to exist in public.

This shared oppression forged a shared culture—one of chosen family, drag balls (which originated as trans and queer POC safe havens), and coded language. It would be dishonest to write about this relationship without acknowledging the friction. In recent years, a small but vocal minority within the LGB community has pushed a "Drop the T" agenda, arguing that trans issues are separate from sexuality issues.

As we move forward, the question isn't whether the T belongs in LGBTQ. The question is whether the rest of the LGBTQ community will show up for the T the way the T showed up for them at Stonewall, during the AIDS crisis (where trans women nursed dying gay men), and in every drag bar that offered sanctuary.