Members of San Antonio’s transgender community say they’re staying put despite Texas’ hostility

When the U.S. Supreme Court last week upheld Tennessee’s controversial ban on gender-affirming care for minors, the news hit hard for Hunsen Abequeer, an Alamo City drag performer who’s transitioning from a woman to a man.

The high court’s decision will allow similar bans to remain in place in Texas and around two dozen other states. Statistics suggest the inability of minors and their families to access gender-affirming care will have devastating effects on their mental health and well-being, said Abequeer, who considers himself lucky to have moved as a child from a rural Texas town to more-accepting San Antonio.

“I don’t think the Supreme Court realizes they have blood on their hands now,” Abequeer said. “Kids are going to die, kids are going to kill themselves, and I’m not being dramatic, not trying to fearmonger. If you look at the statistics for the amount of, not just LGBT people, but specifically trans people that try to commit suicide before the age of 21, it’s horrifying.”

To Abequeer’s point, roughly 46% of transgender and nonbinary young people seriously considered attempting suicide last year, according to the advocacy group the Trevor Project. What’s more, a total of 14% of transgender and nonbinary young people actually attempted suicide last year, the organization reported.

In addition to the Supreme Court ruling and a wave of anti-LGBTQ+ actions taken by the Trump administration, Texas lawmakers continue to pass legislation aimed at making it more difficult for trans people to live their lives.

During the Republican-controlled Texas Legislature’s most recent session, lawmakers filed more than 100 anti-trans bills in the most recent session.

While most failed, legislators did pass at least 10, including a law defining “man” and “woman” by a person’s reproductive organs and another creating a new section on state medical records listing patients’ assigned sex at birth and any physical sexual development disorders. Additionally, they banned LGBTQ+ clubs from schools and barred minors from accessing resources for gender-affirming counseling through the state’s rural pediatric mental health system.

Advocacy groups have repeatedly ranked the Lone Star State among the nation’s most unsafe places for transgender people, and Abequeer said he’s thought of leaving for one of the blue states held up as trans sanctuaries.

However, the reality is he’s not ready to disrupt the life he’s built in the LGBTQ-friendly 2-1-0.

Abequeer said he regularly calls state lawmakers to express his concerns, even though it doesn’t seem to have done much good so far. He’s also incorporated protest-oriented messages into his performances at local clubs — including messages about protecting transgender minors.

“Just getting up and leaving, that’s a privilege that I don’t have,” Abequeer said. “I have too many roots put down here in San Antonio, not just family, but my jobs, my work, my me: Hunsen. People don’t realize it, but as a drag artist, moving from one city to another is not easy. Generally, if you do that, you are starting from the bottom.”

Visibility and role models

San Antonio real-estate broker Kasandra Alicea, a trans woman, said she’s worked with client families who are leaving Texas due to the state’s ban on gender-affirming care for kids. However, like Abequeer, she said her strong ties to the area are too strong to break, even in the current inhospitable environment.

Alicea, who transitioned when she was a teenager in the mid-’90s, said she has a different perspective from younger members of the community because she lived through a period when considerably less local support existed for trans people.

“Because I lived through what I’d generalize as scarier times, I know that this is just temporary,” Alicea said. “Of course, I have to pay attention to what laws have been passed, what’s been said, what narratives are being put out there. But I try to focus, for the most part, on what’s to come, which I feel is an eventual turn back to the positive. Basically, I know we’ll get through this, but we have to fight the fight to get there.”

Thanks to her successful brokerage business, Alicea said she’s able to use her social media presence to present herself as a positive role model for younger trans people or those considering transitioning.

“So, if I can give a bit of hope to someone to try to keep them happy and focus on something positive, I feel like that will trickle down to other things in their life and create a different outcome for them,” she said. “Because in a little less than a year and a half, we’re going to be able to vote again, and we’ll change things. And then in another three-and-a-half years, we’ll make an even bigger change. So it’s just a matter of riding it out.”

Alicea lives outside San Antonio city limits in what she describes as a predominantly red area. Even so, whether showing houses or striking up conversations at her local H-E-B, she said she’s heartened most people don’t appear to harbor the same resentment she’s seen from right-wing political figures.

“Once in every blue moon, there’s an instance where you think, ‘Oh, that was odd,’” she said. “But for the most part, 99.5% of the time, there is no issue. I’m sure some people realize, ‘Oh, wait a minute, that’s a trans person out in public,’ and they may have their own feelings about it, but they don’t say anything.”

Standing up

As one of San Antonio’s most outspoken advocates for trans rights, Luka Rios has seen the state’s political shift firsthand. She began advocating with the Human Rights Campaign around 15 years ago, becoming the first trans woman to serve as state co-chair. She was also a member of former Mayor Ron Nirenberg’s first LGBTQ+ Advisory Committee.

While Rios, a San Antonio native, said she’s intent on staying in her hometown, she has friends who are weighing whether to leave Texas because they fear for their safety.

“They don’t like where things are heading,” she said. “Literally every single person I’ve talked to that’s thinking about leaving Texas, says, ‘Dude, this is literally straight out of Handmaid’s Tale, that show, and it’s crazy.’ And we’re heading that way. We’re heading in a way where it’s going to affect our personal lives, our state of minds — and that’s crucial for sure.”

Rios, who also works in real estate, said she’s throttled back her activism but still remains politically active by meeting with local elected officials about the trans community’s concerns. Even so, the current political climate has made her less likely to let others outside of her advocacy know she’s transgender.

“It’s not an obvious thing when people meet me,” Rios said. “And, for me, for a while, I just try to stay under the radar. It’s like where it seems to be heading right now. A lot of trans people don’t want to be put under the spotlight like that.”

While Rios said she’s heartened more cisgender people are beginning to understand the political storm facing the trans community, she added that they must be more than silent allies.

“I think one message should be, if you see someone being affected by the current political environment, do what you can,” she said. “Call your council people and advocate. Even post something online that’s positive [about trans people]. We live in a world of social media and everyone’s on it. So, even small things like that can help.”

Abequeer, the drag performer, said he’s steadfast in his resolve to stay in San Antonio. Just the same, he worries for families with trans or nonbinary kids and also for young people just awakening to their sexual identities.

“Stop listening to the fear-mongering of these politicians who don’t have your best interest at heart,” Abequeer said. “Listen to the doctors, who are certified to tell you what’s best for your child, OK? Because I am just so worried about the youth right now, especially considering that the Supreme Court just made it so that we’re not protected by the Constitution.”

In the end, Abequeer said, the trans community is the latest politically expedient target for lawmakers who see political gain in turning Americans against each other.

“So, if it’s not trans people, it’s Muslims. If it’s not Muslims, it’s immigrants. If it’s not immigrants, it’s always going to be somebody,” Abequeer said. “Right now it’s our turn, and that sucks. But what can we do about it, except continuing to live on and continuing to fight like we’ve been fighting this whole time?”

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This article appears in Jun 26 – Jul 9, 2025.