If you’ve been on social media lately, you’ve probably seen Democrats applauding California Gov. Gavin Newsom for his relentless trolling of Donald Trump. From all-caps posts and red hats reading “Newsom Was Right About Everything” to his willingness to mock right-wing culture war obsessions like the Cracker Barrel rebrand, Newsom has carefully styled himself as Trump’s foil long before 2028. For many Democrats, it’s entertaining—and even inspiring. But among transgender people, the reaction is starkly different: at best, unease; at worst, outright hostility. That contrast is telling. Trans people have learned, time and again, how quickly politicians can turn on them—and to many, Newsom’s political style is flashing a red warning light.
To be clear, Newsom has strengths. He knows how to land punches online, drive a news cycle, and needle Trump. On substance, he’s thrown his weight behind redistricting fights in California and pressed universities not to cave to Trump-era policy demands, including some affecting LGBTQ+ students. Democrats should welcome those moves. But alongside this, Newsom has signaled something far more troubling: that transgender people can be sacrificed in the pursuit of broader political gains.
The pivot has been both behind the scenes and out in the open. Reporting this year revealed that Newsom’s office quietly pressured lawmakers to shelve or weaken transgender protection bills in California. One measure—requiring courts to consider whether parents affirm their LGBTQ+ children in custody disputes—was vetoed outright. Others stalled under his watch, even as red states escalated their crackdowns. Rhetorically, he’s courted far-right figures like Charlie Kirk, aligning himself with trans-hostile narratives about sports, prisons, and medical care. He has leaned on discredited reports like the Cass Review, mused about delaying transition until age 25, and endorsed new rules targeting transgender athletes that create absurd results—such as forcing athletes like AB Hernandez to share podium spots that cisgender competitors would hold alone.
This isn’t happening in a vacuum. Sports restrictions are often the first wedge in a broader anti-trans agenda, softening the ground for more sweeping rollbacks of rights. We’ve watched countless figures—comedians, authors, tech moguls—slide from “just asking questions” to full-blown opposition to trans existence. Politicians are no different. And while some Democrats argue Newsom is still preferable to Trump or a Trump-like successor in 2028, the calculation for trans people isn’t so simple. Our community currently has one fragile safeguard: one major political party still largely resists the anti-trans wave. If Democrats abandon that stance, we could face bipartisan consensus that our rights are negotiable. That would not be a “lesser evil”—it would be devastating.
The U.K. offers a glimpse of what that looks like. There, both major parties have converged on trans-hostile positions, leading to nationwide bathroom bans and near-total restrictions on youth care. When left and right alike decide you are expendable, there is no one left to fight for you. Trans people in the U.S. know this trajectory, and we see signs of it in Newsom’s positioning. That is why, for many of us, his rise provokes as much dread as the Republican Party’s outright hostility. Republicans attacking us at least mobilize allies to resist. Democrats doing the same drains that resistance away. Transphobia within the party isn’t just rhetoric—it’s a slow-moving malignancy. If it spreads unchecked, it could hollow out decades of progress and leave our community without a political home at all.
