The Silence Cannot Mean Inaction

At Outright, we are sitting with grief and with something else, too: a fierce, clear-eyed recognition of this moment.

Queer and trans youth in Vermont - kids who deserved futures full of joy, connection, and belonging - continue to die by suicide. Unless you live closely within these communities, you may not know their names. Safe communication practices and the need for family privacy mean these losses often go unannounced publicly. But the silence cannot mean inaction.

This is not new. In the midst of the HIV/AIDS crisis in the 1980s, when a statewide survey showed LGBTQ+ youth were at dramatically higher risk of suicide than their cisgender, heterosexual peers, a small group of community members in Vermont had the audacity to believe a brighter future was possible anyway. They formed Outright Vermont. They didn't wait for the world to become safer. They chose radical hope and took action. That is our origin story. That audacity is our inheritance - and right now, we need to claim it.

Because what's happening today echoes what our founders faced then. Both this Administration and many well-funded, well-coordinated anti-LGBTQ+ organizations are not simply trying to restrict rights; their goal is to erase the visibility, legitimacy, and existence of queer and trans people - especially young people - from public life entirely. More than 530 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced across the country. Executive orders, legislative attacks, inflammatory rhetoric from elected officials, organized parent-group mobilization, and alliances with extremist movements are unfolding at every level of society. The pattern is unmistakable: this is a deliberate campaign to push LGBTQ+ people - particularly youth - out of full participation in our communities and our democracy.

And it is working on young people's bodies and spirits.

According to the 2023 Youth Risk Behavior Survey from the Vermont Department of Health, 26% of Vermont middle schoolers and 29% of high schoolers identify as LGBTQ+. Among LGBTQ+ middle schoolers, 40% reported having suicidal thoughts - compared to 14% of their cisgender, heterosexual peers. Twenty-seven percent of LGBTQ+ middle schoolers had made a suicide plan, compared to 9% of their peers.

These numbers are not abstract. They are the weight that queer and trans young people carry every day - a deep exhaustion that comes from living in a world that has told them, loudly and repeatedly, that they are not welcome here. That they shouldn't exist.

We cannot look away from that.

At the same time, the systems meant to hold these young people are fraying. Crisis services, gender-affirming care, inclusive school environments, community supports - all of it is under pressure from political attacks, funding threats, and policy changes. The floor is shifting beneath kids who were already standing on shaky ground.

So what do we do?

We do what Outright founders did. We choose radical hope and we act from it.

Youth to the front - always. The young people living this reality are the experts on their own lives. Before we build programs, launch campaigns, or make policy demands, we listen. We follow their lead. We create spaces where their voices don't just get heard, but actually shape what happens next.

And we remember that connection is not a nice-to-have. It is protective. Research is clear: when young people have caring, affirming adults in their lives - people who see them, celebrate them, and stay - they are more resilient. They have more hope. That's not a metaphor. That's a survival strategy.

Connection doesn't require a budget line or a formal program. Host A Heck Yeah Party to create and deliver notes of affirmation to young people. A knitting circle. A kickball game at the park. An art night. These aren't small things - they are the fabric of community, and community is what keeps people connected. If you're a parent, student, or educator, consider starting or strengthening a Gender and Sexuality Alliance at your school. Every space where a young person can enter and feel like they belong matters more than we can measure.

But individual acts of care, as essential as they are, are not enough on their own. This moment calls for collective action and a willingness to defy and disrupt the systems causing harm. State and local leaders, school administrators, healthcare providers, business owners, faith communities - all of us must publicly, plainly affirm the dignity and humanity of queer and trans young people. We must protect access to gender-affirming mental health care. We must invest in crisis response infrastructure, including 988. We must reject legislation that targets and marginalizes LGBTQ+ people.

And we must be honest - with ourselves and with each other - about what LGBTQ+ youth in our own communities are actually experiencing. Not what we imagine. Not what's comfortable. What's true.

Belonging is not a thing that happens by chance. It is something communities build, on purpose, over time, together. This is a long-haul commitment - not a moment, not a campaign, not a reaction to crisis. It is the ongoing, daily work of creating a Vermont where queer and trans young people don't just survive but genuinely thrive.

We have been here before. We know what it takes. We know what's possible.

Let's act like it.