Published January 21, 2025

There’s a Jimmy Buffett song from 1985 called “If the Phone Doesn’t Ring, It’s Me.” It tickled me when I saw the title, and every time I heard it.

It’s been playing in my head since the election, and at a higher volume since the hour of the inauguration. I figured out why.

A thing I’ve been saying lately is that “I’m worried about you” rings hollow to me when said by people who’ve consistently voted for the party that wants to eradicate me, to make my existence illegal. It’s not as if it was a secret the past few years.

There’s no room in my life for people who were complicit in what’s happening, who helped put my neck on the chopping block. Whatever they did to help me in the past, they undid by giving aid and comfort to my enemies. If you vote to feed me to the lions, you will not be on my visitor list while I’m imprisoned. I won’t be taking your calls.

If no one answers, it’s me.

Yesterday was a bad day

As you might imagine, Inauguration Day was awful, although it began with love.

My oldest niece, the only person in my family who reached out to me the day after the election (and the only one to ask how I was doing in the first 50 days after the election), checked on me again Monday. She sent me money and encouraged me to have a self-care day.

My brainstorming about that was derailed when the nurse who gave me my B12 injection spilled some of it on one of my favorite tops. The stain was blood red. Fitting. I spent a good bit of the afternoon dealing with that, and then I took a long nap. Several, really. Self-care day, soon. I promise.

My niece says she’ll never stop supporting me or fighting for me. I wish she weren’t an outlier in my biological family, but she is. No one else says such things. Two Canadian-born women who years ago claimed me as their sister, and themselves as mine, have lovingly stepped into that void. I’m eternally grateful.

People texted me on the no-good, very bad day. No one called. Would I have answered?

How could I? I don’t exist.

You need to know how alone most trans people are in their struggles. I’ve read so many of their posts. I’ll be reading more of them after publishing this. I’m one of the lucky ones. More than a few cisgender people around the world have asked how I’m doing. They’re helping me cope with the horror. So are trans people. Lovely, kind trans people.

They’re just not related to me. But they’re family now.

I had a bad dream

The night before the inauguration, I dreamed I was forced to travel to a convention with men’s clothes only. I couldn’t find the floor my hotel room was on, and no one would help me, not even the staff. I felt so awful and alien and started crying in the hall. There’ll be more dreams like that one, I imagine.

There’s no good ending to this story. Just an awkward stop and punctuation mark if I remember to put it there.

If the story just ends, it’s me.

If you appreciate what you find here and feel generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading. Here’s a butterfly for you.

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The post If no one answers, it’s me appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published January 19, 2025

Terrified doesn’t begin to cover how I feel today. Day 1 is tomorrow. My whole-body shaking is worse today than the morning after the election.

Fuck.

Regardless of how we got here, we’re here. I don’t know how I’m going to do another four years of this, with most of the guardrails that were in place last time now gone.

I’m still on leave. I’m still broken. I live under my blanket fort and mostly sleep.

At this house, we are flying the flag at half-staff.

I can’t believe we’re doing this again

Eight years ago, I was still dealing with the greatest shock of my life. I’d been working for a couple of years with my therapist toward coming out publicly as a transgender woman, and I’d been counting on doing it after a woman finally became our president.

By Inauguration Day 2017, I was still devastated, and had lost my nerve. I decided I couldn’t do it, couldn’t come out. Not with him as president.

I wrote that I wouldn’t be watching his inauguration, and I did the best I could. The result was one of the messier messes I’ve ever written.

The only thing I could think to do was to go see “Hidden Figures,” which I didn’t know much about, and leave a ticket for the person behind me to see it for free. I did that a couple of times, actually.

I didn’t want to see his face or hear his voice again, but I was working for a newspaper at the time, editing hard news, politics and opinion — everything except sports — so that was going to be impossible.

It was, of course.

After a month or so, I realized I couldn’t let his being president stop me from living as my authentic self, so later that year, I came out to the world.

Trans people weren’t one of his targets at the time. He’d even opposed the so-called “bathroom bill” in North Carolina while campaigning for office. But now Republicans need us to be their new devil after getting Roe v. Wade overturned. They have to keep donations coming in somehow.

Long, torturous story short, we’re doing this again, only worse. I still can’t believe it.

I feel myself cracking apart

Despite the love and concern I feel from friends and strangers, I’m a wreck. It took me so long to write this with shaking hands that I have to go back to bed now.

I don’t know what I’ll be doing when he’s sworn in, but I won’t be watching. I’ll probably be thinking about everyone who’s going to suffer, here and around the world, and who didn’t help bring this about.

I won’t waste a thought on people who voted for him twice. “We’re worried about you” rings hollow to me when it comes from people who consistently vote Republican, who vote for the people who have targeted people like me.

My future feels tenuous. I’m due to come off leave in a month and go back to work. I can’t imagine that happening right now. I’m still barely able to function, much less stay awake for eight consecutive hours. I’m still sleeping 12 to 16 hours a day.

Thank you, everyone who has reached out and helped and sent hugs. It means everything.

Take care of yourself. No one is coming to save us. We are all we have.

Sending love.

Photo of flag at half-mast by Marc Van Scyoc via Shutterstock.

Thank you for reading

If you appreciate what you find here and feel generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading. Here’s a butterfly for you.

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The post I’m shaking worse than before at the thought of what’s coming appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published January 14, 2025

Hello. Overwhelmed here today but still here today. Wanted you to know.

All the love and support after my story yesterday means so much to me. Thank you.

That’s a hug blanket someone sent me even before the story. I appreciate and return the hugs and love today.

Much healing ahead. Will write soon.

Update: Thanks to a text I just received, I now know who sent the hug blanket. Thank you, Special K! Love you!

Thank you for reading

If you appreciate what you find here and feel generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading. Here’s a butterfly for you.

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The post I’m still here, and I wanted you to know that. Thanks for checking on me appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published January 13, 2025

Content warning given with loving concern: references to suicide and suicidal ideation, hate speech and anti-trans campaigns. Protect your peace.

Note: PDF and audio versions of this story will be on my LinkedIn and Bluesky accounts if my website crashes.

Here is the audio version in my voice:

Whatever’s next, my life is pretty much over anyway. The New York Times and The Athletic helped ensure that.

I work for the latter and get paid by the former. They decide who matters and who doesn’t, who’s a person and who’s an “activist,” who can speak out on their own behalf and who can’t.

I’m not fine with that. I’m not fine.

My answers on suicide-related questionnaires set off alarms for my healthcare team. I’ve had a breakdown. I wake up screaming because of my nightmares.

Imagine that a company buys the company you work for and is the biggest, most impactful enabler¹ of groups that don’t want you to exist — and it doesn’t allow you to speak out. How is anyone supposed to endure that for three years? I’m barely functioning, unsure I can work or trust again.

This is my story. It took two months to write. My hands shake, my body convulses, trembles. As a transgender person, I am in danger.

It’s Week 8 of a 12-week job-protected leave from my role as staff editor at The Athletic, where I’ve worked since late January 2021. The Times bought the company a year later, beginning my nightmare as a trans woman under Times control.

The New York Times has power over almost every aspect of my life.

I spent two months trying to build the one sentence that makes people realize I am a person, that I matter. Somewhere between one sentence and dozens, I hope there are at least a few words that elevate me from political talking point to human being.

Life was finally worth living.

I was hurting no one.

Who does this to people for merely existing, for finally finding joy?

What’s happening to me and my trans sisters, brothers and niblings, to nonbinary people, is criminal. In this, the Times cannot claim some mythical, noble neutrality.

I tried to pull myself together — posting, from bed, unused material from an ambitious project I’ll never finish, to try, in a “fake it till you make it” way, to force healing and create the illusion of being fine. I’m not. I can’t see a place for myself in this world. Two months ago, my country told me I wasn’t worth protecting, that trans people are expendable.

For the first time, a plan

When they find my body, they’ll see paper in a pouch on a lanyard around my neck. That’s to keep blood off the note. I’ll be in a patch of grass I’ve chosen so there’s no mess in my apartment or car.

My name, address and state ID (F for female) will be inside, with names and numbers to call, including my employer. “Carly Dubois wanted you to know she’s dead.”

For too many years, I went to sleep expecting nightmares and putting a wish out into the universe that I’d never wake up. But when I came out as a transgender woman in 2017, I finally wanted to live.

What a gift to myself.

Now, though, thanks to a well-funded anti-trans movement, the revival of debunked talking points and the willingness of the Times to give them unmerited oxygen, my joy has vanished. For the first time, I have a plan for ending my life.

I’m a nobody from nowhere. But if I were one of the people who steer these newsrooms, I might think I should reflect on why an employee would entertain death as a better option than returning to the prison I’d helped put her in.

Take your time

This story’s long, but how many words is my life worth? Is it worth the word count of a fawning feature story about an athlete or coach? Or a trend story on the latest splurge for people with more money than they’ll ever spend?

A week from Inauguration Day, are trans lives worth any words at all?

The more inept the incoming administration and its stooges prove to be, the more likely they’ll continue to torture trans people to make it seem they are capable of doing something. I don’t foresee anyone protecting us.

Take all the time you need to get through this story, one section at a time. It’s not going anywhere. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m getting this in just under the wire. If I knew a short way to describe a three-year nightmare, I’d do that. But I don’t.

If your first reaction to this story is to say it’s too long, relax. That’s a clear sign that you’re not the target audience. The right people will read every word.

Trans kids are being beaten and denied life-saving healthcare. The march toward banning trans adults’ life-saving care is gaining traction. People feel more emboldened than ever to act on their hatred of us. I can’t be silent any longer about any organization that helps them feel more comfortable doing so, even if it pays my salary. The forced silence is one of the worst parts of my nightmare, sucking the air out of my life day after day.

How would you feel?

A Supreme Court justice repeats disinformation about trans people after the Times gives it legitimacy and new life.

Vatican leaders, Vladimir Putin, Republican lawmakers, the incoming president and far-right leaders around the world demonize you. Democrats abandon you. SCOTUS justices display ignorance as they decide your future.

President-elect Donald Trump says, “With the stroke of my pen on Day 1, we’re going to stop the transgender lunacy.”

How would you feel? Day 1 is a week away.

We’re worried about dying. Being “eradicated.” Ended with the stroke of a pen. They’re worried about “unsparing criticism.” I’ve never worked for a Times-owned company during a Trump administration. I’m frightened.

How would you cope with this every day? Ask yourself what the next four years will be like for trans people. Ask how you’d feel working for people who let those planning your demise have a voice in the matter but won’t allow you the same.

What you should know

If you search our suicide statistics, know that we don’t kill ourselves because we’re trans. It’s because of how the world treats us. Also, statistics are lacking. If a trans person dies by suicide before transitioning, a coroner’s report won’t say they’re trans.

The author

Right now I’m still here, still visible. I’m a person, not a culture war — not a thought exercise for terrible opinion columnists. I exist. I bleed, cry, dream and hope, though hope is effectively gone. I’m not a statistic — not yet. But I’m running out of reasons to stay.

“Culture war” is a bullshit term for what anti-trans people do to us. It’s one example of the lazy ways the Times uses language in covering us and politics.

They might fire me. They might try to discredit me. They’re always right, of course, and their critics are always wrong. I don’t know how to fight that. But whatever they throw at me, I have receipts.

International Transgender Day of Visibility is every March 31. Easter moves around the calendar. In 2024, Easter fell on the same day as an annual awareness event for trans people. Maybe the Times will frame it properly when it happens again, in 2086.

It might seem minor to you, but the Times helped enable the shitstorm that followed. The Times is good at that.

The election destroyed me

I haven’t worked since Nov. 3. After an all-nighter two days later to watch election results, I emailed my boss and HR to say I’d be unable to work that night. Then I slept for 16 hours. Every day. For a month.

From that email:

Every network I saw last night mentioned that Trump spent more money on anti-trans ads than on any other issue. And that it obviously worked. Let that sink in. We are about 1-2 percent of the population. And now we are more vulnerable than ever.

Whether it wants to admit this or not, The New York Times played a significant role in this outcome, allowing bad-faith actors’ propaganda into its coverage of us, which has led to Times articles being official court documents in legal cases in states passing bans.

I’d hoped to wake up to a brighter future in a better country. Both were worse than I’d been counting on, my future and my country. I was shattered. Still am.

Three people at work checked on me after the election. We have hundreds of employees. One family member checked on me. Maybe the lesson is, most people don’t care. Maybe they approve of what’s happening. Or, maybe people don’t know what’s happening. The Times and legacy media share some responsibility for that.

What’s certain is, employee rules denied me a voice as a citizen. I’m losing my life, and the people I work for are helping that happen while silencing me.

I slept away the rest of 2024 and had to scrape myself off the floor to do anything. That includes putting my head back in the monster’s mouth to write this. This story is for people even more vulnerable than I am, especially trans women of color. This story is for people who think “picking our battles” is how we escape fascism.

The Athletic editorial guidelines

This is from the section Political Opinions and Participation in Public Life:

Athletic journalists can take part in religious, charitable and local or community affairs, and vote in elections. … But you should always take care to ensure that your involvement does not raise questions about The Athletic’s reputation, integrity or journalistic independence. That is especially the case when it comes to political or other topics that are in the news, including international affairs.

It’s me. I’m a trans woman, a “political” topic.

Journalists have no place on the playing field of politics, which increasingly intersects with the sports world.

You can donate to anti-trans political candidates, but I can’t donate to pro-trans candidates.

In particular, Athletic staff members should not express political opinions on social media or any other platform. Staff members may not give money to, or raise money for, political candidates.

The guidelines allow an employee to be active in a church or religious group that opposes trans rights and helps anti-trans campaigns, maybe even donate to that cause.

Staff members can contribute to and volunteer for religious or charitable causes, although if a particular cause becomes newsworthy for The Athletic, that staff member may be forbidden from covering it.

The same rules, retooled after the Times bought The Athletic, don’t allow me to speak publicly against those groups and anti-trans politicians, on my behalf.

Staff members may not march or rally in support of public causes or movements, sign ads or letters taking a position on public issues, or lend their name to campaigns, benefit dinners or similar events if doing so might reasonably raise doubts about their or The Athletic’s ability to cover the news impartially.

Someone will challenge these Times-mandated restrictions in court. Discovery would be illuminating.

How it started

The Athletic offered me the job, and I accepted, on Jan. 5, 2021, the day before the insurrection. A text message from my future boss had a 50-50 chance of leading to good news, and the call I placed confirmed the best news: I was one of three hired from among 446 applicants. My miracle had happened.

Before January ended, I called it my best month ever.

It was my last good month, but before things went bad, I was thrilled. I was the first openly trans person at The Athletic. No one blinked. It was no big deal. Though a hot mess, The Athletic felt like a startup with a heart, something I miss.

A year later, the Times reached an agreement to buy The Athletic. That terrified me, because I knew what was coming. The Times would continue endangering lives with noxious coverage of trans people. It would help put Trump back in the White House with irresponsible political coverage and commentary.

For three years, there has been no escaping it. But I knew about the Times a decade ago. That’s what made its acquisition of The Athletic in 2022 so terrifying.

The Times then bought Wordle, my favorite game, and slowly swallowed The Athletic. It swallowed my life. Today the Times feels heartless, sterile, soulless, and that’s reflected in how it’s changed The Athletic.

How it’s been going

In February 2023, one year after the sale, I needed time off for mental health. The Times smugly rejected credible complaints about its coverage, dismissing trans journalists as “activists,” then a day later let trans people know what it really thinks of us. Its “In Defense of J.K. Rowling” column gutted me.

I emailed management:

In terms of scope and reach, I can’t think of an entity that has done more damage to the trans community in the past several years than the Times.

I referenced the column, which was bad enough then and has aged horribly (a common arc for Times opinions). She’s the villain we’ve always said she was.

There are no trans kids. No child is ‘born in the wrong body’. There are only adults like you, prepared to sacrifice the health of minors to bolster your belief in an ideology that will end up wreaking more harm than lobotomies and false memory syndrome combined. pic.twitter.com/yyc4MxgfOk

— J.K. Rowling (@jk_rowling) December 28, 2024

Even if the timing of (the column) was mere coincidence and not a direct response to criticism, I wrote in my email, some decent human being in a position of power at the Times should have put that opinion piece on hold to avoid the appearance of giving an editorial middle finger to people like me. That no one stopped it was chilling to our community, but not a surprise.

That’s how that Times column hit: middle fingers raised to me and to the trans community, but instead of the fun pop-art look from my manicure, they were putrid, spiteful, sin-ugly old birds of hate flipped and approved by Times leaders.

I couldn’t bring myself to subject you to a representation of the ugliness I saw and felt when that column appeared, timing and context and all, so you get to see these. But I think you get my point. It was as big an editorial middle finger as I’ve ever seen.

(Those are my real nails, by the way. The strongest, most healthy part of me, and still a source of some of the only joy I have left in this life.)

My full email is in this post, but this part speaks to how beaten down I was:

I have never felt more alone, more isolated, than I do now, and the power imbalance in all of this, given the consequences to the trans community amid efforts to take away our healthcare and force us out of existence, is breathtaking in its own right.

The Times has been complicit in these efforts to do us harm, and trans journalists take offense at any suggestion to the contrary. … I don’t need to hear a lecture from anyone about how journalism works. This is my 40th year as a professional.

I took a month off. That was 23 months ago.

Flash forward to fall 2024

The week before the election is when I realized I don’t matter, that I’m not even an afterthought. I’m a neverthought.

A Times letter to employees urged caution in what they said, or even liked on social media. The Athletic forwarded it to us, adding: “As (the letter) pointed out, even personal messages shared by employees outside the newsroom can reflect back on our journalism, so please exercise your best judgment — especially in the coming weeks.”

Both letters asked us to support Times journalists. An unwritten subtext, which emerged in all-hands company meetings, was we needed to protect them.

Where was the letter on my behalf? The letter urging employees to be careful what they said publicly and privately, or liked on social media, about trans people? They know they employ some of us. Surely they saw the blitz of advertising by Trump and other Republicans making the election disproportionately about trans people. Where was the call for care on my behalf, on our behalf?

Can I ever speak up? Why can the awful men (and a few women) in the Times’ stable of dreadful columnists publicly discuss me and people like me, but I cannot? Why did the Times fail to quote a trans person in two-thirds of its stories about trans people over one year?

I’m just asking questions. Here’s another:

If companies won’t allow employees to speak out against a slow-moving authoritarian takeover of this country at any point between the start and its successful conclusion, aren’t those companies complicit in the coup?

Seeing that I don’t matter was a gut punch. My body’s still shaking so much that it’s hard for me to even type without dozens of mistakes.

I respected the boundaries of company policy in trying to rally support for trans people in our Slack channels. This is from October:

What, The Athletic’s bosses didn’t notice anti-trans ads dominating commercials during baseball’s postseason and college and pro football games? We cover sports and culture. It was in my face every day. No letter amid all that urging employees to be careful what they said or liked on social media about trans people?

This was a worse blow than the defense of Rowling. This was: Times journalists matter. You don’t.

Other vulnerable people work at The Athletic. They weren’t singled out to the extent that we were by these hate campaigns. The Times’ track record and fingerprints on our leadership suggest no one ever considered including me, us, in their plea for support.

Fascism’s portal

Feminist philosopher and gender studies scholar Judith Butler says, “Anti-gender is one of the vectors through which fascist passions are stoked and circulated, and those are passions that support increasingly authoritarian regimes that justify their wars and their acts of destruction by appearing as if they are putting an end to what threatens society with destruction.”

And from a November interview: “Once you decide that a single vulnerable minority can be sacrificed, you’re operating within a fascist logic, because that means there might be a second one you’re willing to sacrifice, and a third, a fourth, and then what happens?”

We must stick together. Cisgender women, they’re coming for you too. Attacks on bodily autonomy attack all of us. I was never coming for you. My joy stole nothing from you.

Because I feared losing my job, I was silent for three years and let Times editors, reporters and columnists — including guests who could say whatever they wanted — shape my future. I did everything “right.” Where’d that get me? Where’d that get us?

The Times has people who do great work. Its leaders and editors, though, have long been going out of their way to protect something. Whatever that something is, it’s not vulnerable people, as we see in ewphemism after ewphemism (spelling intentional).

That’s hardly the biggest example, just one of the latest.

What I face

The Times published the defense of the notoriously anti-trans Rowling on Feb. 16, 2023. I was diagnosed with heart failure two months later. My health nosedived. The diagnosis was later overturned, but the medical mystery remains. My body never got the memo.

They broke my heart. That’s my explanation.

That’s legal. They’re allowed to break my heart. Morally, they’re on their own.

There’s financial wreckage amid the debris of my lost years before coming out, so if I’m fired, without an income, my life would be over. If I stay silent, my life is over anyway. If I don’t stand up for my rights, who will? Almost nobody, 2024 showed me.

What life have they left me? When I’m out of legal moves and out of savings, what then? The world doesn’t need another homeless trans person.

Journalism that leaves its own behind must take a hard inward look, but is anyone expendable for the sake of some “objectivity” that enables real harm? If you agree with the employee guidelines that say journalists have no place on the playing field of politics, answer this: Can you name anything important that isn’t political?

If you or your group are able to cordon off politics from the rest of your daily life, you might have unexamined privilege.

Things that Americans are urged to do to save this country? Times and Athletic rules bar me from almost all of it. If you disallow choosing a side in this fight, you’ve chosen a side.

Please get a clue

I’m tired of men — most of them white, the majority straight, always cisgender, usually Christian, men who imagine they’ll be fine regardless — and women who uphold the patriarchy getting to discuss my life publicly while I don’t. White men: the original, all-time champion beneficiaries of U.S. “identity politics.” (I say this aware that for too long, as a journalist and male-presenting white adult, I was more problem than solution.)

Wake the fuck up, Times leaders. Wake the fuck up, journalism. Destructive politics like we’re seeing found America’s vulnerability: uncritical devotion to outdated ethics, norms and rules. The architects of this takeover identified our weakness and are using it against us. It’s you. You’re the weakness.

Dr. Annie Andrews, a pediatrician who knows what time it is, understands: “We cannot fight back against nefarious political forces without engaging in politics.”

In our dystopian future, those who foisted their rules upon me will be on the run by day, crouching in front of a fire by night, probably alone, muttering as they continue to search for safe drinking water, “At least I stayed off the playing field of politics.”

A Times that doesn’t exist

Something curious happened with Times coverage before the election. It was like a basketball game with an imbalance of fouls before a flurry of late calls evens things out. The Times gets the clicks a four-year Trump administration guarantees, and it will point to its late makeup calls and suggest it was against him all along.

Times leaders are historically more or less fine with the regular Republican cruelty, but what’s coming might have them reckoning with their failures. They didn’t just put their thumb on the scale to help Trump — twice — they put down both elbows and leaned in.

News organizations love to report what people reveal about their workplaces. Editors rub their hands together and say, “Stories like this are why I got into this business.” It’s different when their employees turn the spotlight on them. Prepare for hypocrisy.

These should be the best years of my career. If they were still alive, my parents and my first boss would be tickled to see NYT on my paystub. But they’d be thinking of a New York Times that doesn’t exist.

If you need a breakout quote, here’s something I’ve said for years:

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world The New York Times has a liberal bias.

Times leaders have to hear it at cocktail parties: liberal rag. We have to hear promises that we’ll be eradicated, and the bloodthirsty cheers that follow.

Treating “both sides” as equal in merit might work where people will be mostly fine either way, but I don’t live in that world. Maybe Times leaders do. But they’re not up to this moment in history. They haven’t been for a long time.

If none of this jibes with your view of the Times, you haven’t paid close attention.

I’ll have more to say about this in an upcoming story, but no newsroom I’ve ever worked in would have let this see the light of day. “That looks like a Trump ad,” someone would have said, “and along with the latte cartoon, it’s obscuring the news of the day. Find a more appropriate photo and rework the presentation.”

The worst is yet to come

Things will get worse. The Times helped bring it about. Remember when it had a respected, principled public editor? Who holds the paper accountable now?

As scattered pieces of the same oneness, we vulnerable people must connect ourselves to each other as best we can. Judith Butler has much to say about that. Listen.

Why am I allowed no real voice? Holding my employment over my head to keep me silent — with my ability to keep a roof over my head, feed myself and buy medications part of the bargain — is a particularly evil trap.

“Get another job” is easy to say when you don’t know our reality. I say that while acknowledging I’ve enjoyed more privilege than many trans people. As much as anything, I’m writing this for them. Most will still be here long after I’m gone (I hope!). I’d like to help them create a better world than the one I will leave.

I know how journalism works. I know what I’ve seen every day for a decade. What to leave in, what to leave out, how to frame things, it’s ultimately the say of who’s in charge.

I didn’t ask for any of this. Didn’t ask the Times to buy the company I work for, didn’t ask for journalism, the industry I’ve given my life to, to betray me, didn’t ask to be trans.

I didn’t ask to be born.

No other trans person knew this story was coming. It’s my fight alone until someone asks to join me. If people make their support clear, I’ll share links to their coverage. If no one supports me, that’s useful information. Right now I feel alone where I should feel supported.

Obeying rules accomplished nothing. I feel like such a fool for letting myself be muzzled.

Silent no longer

Roe v. Wade was overturned nearly 31 months ago. Republicans needed a new devil to keep donations pouring in. They targeted us. It’s part of the moral panic they’ve whipped up to seize power.

The Leopards Eating People’s Faces Party is insatiable. Your face might look pretty tasty to it someday.

The author as a child

I’m sad for young Carly, who somehow lived long enough to have a few years of joy as her authentic self. Assigned male at birth, she didn’t understand the assignment.

I had the privilege to mostly move through the world freely, safely, or safer than many ever feel in America. I understand their rage so much better now. Everyone should get to feel equally protected, but this country wasn’t built that way.

I wish I’d come to a better realization sooner.

The U.S. felt safe and just to me. Its power structure protected me enough to lull me into leaning into the punch. Perhaps too late, I’m over being asked to stay quiet and help sell myths of an America that never existed.

Nothing I’ve written here should be remotely controversial to anyone who’s been paying close attention.

Like the Times, The Athletic has some wonderful people. It also has men who betrayed my trust after coming from the Times. The Athletic protected me when it could, but 2024’s body blows were too much. I can take a lot of pain, but I’m past my limits.

The Times is a revealing daily reminder of who matters to this country and who doesn’t, especially if you know what to look for, including whose voices are left out — or given space akin to designated protest zones that ensure business as usual goes on.

If I live in fear of what these companies might do to me, I’ve got no chance against Trump and others who want to erase trans people. As long as my heart beats and I can reclaim my voice, I’m silent no more.

Thank you for reading

If you appreciate what you find here and feel generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading. Please share. Here’s a butterfly for you.

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Photo of New York Times Building by Tada Images via Shutterstock.

Footnote

¹The creation of Fox News dates to a Nixon White House initiative to create a new form of political weapon. The channel is not an enabler, it is a central piece of a larger machine. It has always been in a different category than The New York Times and other legacy news media. Fox News tells people what they want to hear. Much of the Times’ damage occurs in the persuadable middle largely because of the imprimatur of its platform, and it bolsters the Fox crowd’s belief in what is not true. The notion that the Times is “a liberal rag” helps drive the anti-trans legislation. The implication of Times stories being part of the anti-trans argument in court is: If even The (liberal) New York Times is saying it …

The Tennessee case (United States v. Skrmetti) would have never made it to the Supreme Court if not for the Times. I’ll have more to say about this in follow-up stories about the Times, but the paper’s status as the biggest, most impactful enabler of anti-trans campaigns, in context, is secure.

The post The New York Times and The Athletic robbed me of my voice and my hope, and helped steal my life: A trans woman’s nightmare appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published January 13, 2025

Below are notes, plus emails, letters and company policies mentioned in today’s story about being a trans woman working for a company owned by The New York Times, The Athletic.

My letter to HR and managers in 2023

Date: Tue, Feb. 21, 2023

• Other than the days, 26 years apart, when my parents died, the scariest day of my life was when I came out as transgender. That was surpassed last year when I learned that The New York Times would be buying The Athletic. In terms of scope and reach, I can’t think of an entity that has done more damage to the trans community in the past several years than the Times.
• That day last year was surpassed last week by my seeing the response by The New York Times to legitimate concerns raised in a letter signed by many Times contributors and by others, and in another letter. Then, the next day, I had a new scariest day when the Times followed that by publishing “In Defense of J.K. Rowling,” which seemed in context to be a clear signal to the trans community. Even if the timing of the latter was mere coincidence and not a direct response to criticism, some decent human being in a position of power at the Times should have put that opinion piece on hold to avoid the appearance of giving an editorial middle finger to people like me. That no one stopped it was chilling to our community, but not a surprise.
• The aftermath of all of the above finds me terrified, feeling alone and trying to navigate an existence that is all but unbearable.
• I don’t feel safe or welcome in the Times family, and you need to know that.
• The Times’ response, whether intentional or not, showed disrespect to trans journalists by conflating us with “activists.” Trans journalists understand this subject matter better than anyone else, and being dismissed as “activists” is a condescending rebuke that does its own harm on a number of levels.
• The Times’ history of LGBTQ coverage is problematic, which is well-documented and being explored again in light of these newest missteps.
• A part of me died last year when a member of management at The Athletic told me, during a company meeting on Zoom, that I could not publicly speak out about efforts to take my rights away as a member of a marginalized group. Under the guise of journalistic objectivity, this was inarguably the choosing of sides by the company in the wake of the acquisition by the Times.
• Following that meeting, one person in the entire company reached out to me to see if I was OK. One.
• I have never felt more alone, more isolated, than I do now, and the power imbalance in all of this, given the consequences to the trans community amid efforts to take away our health care and force us out of existence, is breathtaking in its own right.
• The Times has been complicit in these efforts to do us harm, and trans journalists take offense at any suggestion to the contrary.
• I don’t need to hear a lecture from anyone about how journalism works. This is my 40th year as a professional.
• I don’t want or need anyone from the Times to reach out to me.
• I don’t want anyone from The Athletic to reach out to me about any of this. If I want to discuss it further with someone, I will contact them.
• I am not quitting. I just want to put my head down and continue doing a good job. The best case for me is that no one from the Times discovers I exist.
• But it is difficult for me to envision The Athletic/The New York Times being a safe place for me in the long term.
• Please don’t call me or send me an email, message or text about this. I won’t respond.
• If you find it hard to sit in uncomfortable silence about all of this, you will be closer to understanding what it has been like for me for more than a year and what my immediate future looks like.

Thank you.

Carly

Letter to The Athletic’s employees from publisher David Perpich

Date: Wed, Oct 30, 2024
Subject: Supporting Our Newsroom This Election

Hey all,

AG Sulzberger sent an email to the Times’ staff yesterday that highlighted the incredible work of journalists in The Times’s newsroom during this election season — and the ways that other employees at The New York Times Company can support them.

I’m sharing his note with you below, along with a reminder for everyone in the newsroom to review our own editorial guidelines, particularly around political expression. You can read them under the “Political Opinions and Participation in Public Life” section. As AG pointed out, even personal messages shared by employees outside the newsroom can reflect back on our journalism, so please exercise your best judgment — especially in the coming weeks.

Thank you for your tireless work during this exceptionally busy season.

David

Letter from NYT publisher AG Sulzberger to Times employees

By AG Sulzberger
Date: Tue, Oct 29, 2024

Colleagues,

With Election Day just a week away, I want to take a moment to recognize the extraordinary work our journalists have been doing to provide the public with the information it needs to understand and engage with the election.

And I want to use this opportunity to remind all of us what we can do to support our newsroom colleagues as they continue to do the hard work of providing the best, most comprehensive coverage of the candidates, the issues, the concerns of voters and the state of the race.

In each of those four pillars of election coverage, our colleagues have done exemplary work.

• We’ve dug deeply into the issues, ensuring our readers are fully informed. We examined both candidate’s proposals and records on issues like the economy, climate, crime, abortion, immigration, international affairs and use of executive power. Our groundbreaking series on Trump’s second-term plans brought public attention to Project 2025. The Morning and “The Daily” have been producing sophisticated and digestible deep dives to help the public understand a variety of major issues.
• We’ve investigated the candidates themselves, providing essential insight into their views, records and actions. When the race began, we were reporting on a rematch between two candidates well known to American voters. But we never stopped digging into both President Joe Biden and former President Donald Trump, giving our readers a deeper understanding of both. No news organization has done more to bring the truth to light about President Trump’s relationships, businesses, finances, legal struggles, personal conduct, public rhetoric and attacks on elections or the rule of law. At the same time, we also stood out as one of the few news organizations to continually report on Biden’s age and fitness, a question of importance to the public. Since Vice President Kamala Harris entered the race, we’ve reported deeply on her record, history, relationships and motivations. We’ve also reported deeply on what the candidates’ vice presidential picks say about their visions for America.
• We’ve illuminated the lives and concerns of the nation’s voters, reflecting the hopes and fears of people in a country that is struggling to understand itself. Our reporters have been on the ground listening to people across the country, from cities to suburbs to rural communities and from the Northeast to the Southwest and throughout the rest of the country. In the process, they’ve explored how candidates and issues have resonated among diverse groups. And they’ve examined how the public has grown even more divided, more fearful of each other, more credulous of conspiracy theories and more tolerant of political violence.
• We’ve explored the shifting dynamics of the race itself. We analyzed how money, endorsements and campaign strategies are shaping the race and how the candidates and their messages are resonating with voters. We’ve shown how that plays out at the ballot box, presenting primary election results in every single state. Our polling operation, which has an unrivaled record over the last two cycles, continues to stand out for its embrace of complexity and nuance. We charted possible pathways to winning the presidency, tracked early voting and prepared for potentially slow and complex results. And our coverage of efforts to undermine and safeguard the integrity of the election has been the subject of particularly intense focus.
With this unmatched sweep of coverage, The New York Times serves as an irreplaceable guide to the election, helping voters find all the information, insight and context they need to cast their ballots with confidence, discern truth from misinformation and navigate whatever comes next. So I hope you’re as proud of this work as I am. And I hope you feel a responsibility, as I do, to support the colleagues behind it.

This brings me to my ask of all of you. If you’re in the newsroom, I’d like to remind you that our longstanding ethics guidelines prohibit the expression of personal political views in public. While the rest of our colleagues have no such prohibition, we’ve seen a number of instances in which the words or actions of our colleagues outside the newsroom were used to attack the work of our journalists or cast doubt on the credibility of The New York Times itself.

So for those of you not in the newsroom, please use your good judgment and exercise particular care in making predictions, amplifying an unconfirmed report or using intemperate language about a candidate or result. Remember your colleagues are working incredibly hard, often in the face of ongoing attempts to attack their credibility, to provide the public with important information in a way that meets our standards of fairness, accuracy and independence. Remember that you may be viewed as representing The Times, regardless of whether your job brings you in close contact with our journalism. Even something as seemingly mundane as liking a sharply worded political post on social media is often weaponized by those seeking to undermine our reporting. One question that may be helpful to ask yourself: Would I be comfortable with my name or the name of The Times being attached to this statement on Fox News or MSNBC?

This is the 44th presidential election that The New York Times has covered in the last 173 years. Elections bring our mission into distinct focus, especially as democracies are in retreat all over the world. This coverage is an essential public service and connects us to a proud tradition, even as the work I just named — just a sliver of the brilliant journalism we’ve produced — is distinctly a product of the modern New York Times. It would not be possible without the efforts of those across the company.

Along with our readers, I am deeply grateful.

AG

The Athletic editorial guidelines: Political Opinions and Participation in Public Life

As of Aug. 26, 2024

Athletic journalists can take part in religious, charitable and local or community affairs, and vote in elections. Our newsroom’s ethics policies are not intended to limit those rights.

But you should always take care to ensure that your involvement does not raise questions about The Athletic’s reputation, integrity or journalistic independence. That is especially the case when it comes to political or other topics that are in the news, including international affairs.

Journalists have no place on the playing field of politics, which increasingly intersects with the sports world. Staff members must not do anything that would risk damaging their professional neutrality or The Athletic’s.

In particular, Athletic staff members should not express political opinions on social media or any other platform. Staff members may not give money to, or raise money for, political candidates.

Staff members may not march or rally in support of public causes or movements, sign ads or letters taking a position on public issues, or lend their name to campaigns, benefit dinners or similar events if doing so might reasonably raise doubts about their or The Athletic’s ability to cover the news impartially.

Staff members can contribute to and volunteer for religious or charitable causes, although if a particular cause becomes newsworthy for The Athletic, that staff member may be forbidden from covering it.

These guidelines are intended to protect the core of our mission as journalists. Though The Athletic will consider matters case by case, we will be exceedingly cautious about permitting exceptions.

If you have questions about whether you can take part in a particular activity, please consult the Standards department.

Worth noting

After buying The Athletic three years ago, The New York Times expressly forbid us from saying we work for The New York Times, from identifying ourselves as Times editors or Times reporters. Not that I would ever do that, but consider all of what’s now true that wasn’t before. I put together a version of this list last year:

• Our paychecks say NYT on them.
• Their payroll department pays us.
• They administer our benefits.
• They switched who administers our 401(k) accounts (a company that still can’t get my name right more than a year later).
• They switched how we order and pay for prescriptions (a change that has caused many problems).
• They switched our health insurance provider (to UnitedHealthcare, its own nightmare).
• They and people who left the Times to work in management positions at The Athletic have rewritten our employee handbook and policies to more closely match theirs.
• Our stories show up on Google searches as The New York Times and www.nytimes.com.
• Our stories all have URLs that begin with nytimes.com.
• We use their Workday system.
• We are eligible for NYT employee discounts.
• The first page of chain of command in Workday lists NYT people only. My direct bosses are on the second page.
• We can use their office if we’re in New York.
• We must work on NYT laptops.
• We use their IT people.
• We must undergo all NYT security and employee training.
• Their unionized Sports department no longer exists in their unionized newsroom after they acquired the non-union Athletic (which put us in the position of being forced to replace union workers unless we had the luxury of being able to quit our jobs in protest).

What hasn’t changed?
• The Athletic remains a non-union workplace (for now).
• We can’t say we work for The New York Times. From the beginning, I’ve assumed that they mostly wanted that line drawn so we couldn’t join their union. But speaking of that, this is a new development that happened while I was putting the finishing touches on today’s stories That news broke Jan. 6. This followed soon after.

And this.

The response by Times management was predictable. So much so that the Guild statement was probably ready to go, with XXX still in the date at the top upon its release.

The New York Times controls almost every aspect of my life.

If you appreciate what you find here and are feeling generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading.

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First embedded photo of New York Times Building by Matthew Nichols1 via Shutterstock.

Second embedded photo of New York Times Building by Tada Images via Shutterstock.

The post Documents related to today’s story on being a trans woman at a New York Times-owned company appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published January 1, 2025

Waking up to the horrific news from New Orleans shook me. And brought back an awful memory.

I was a student at a seminary near New Orleans in 1982 when a man drove on Bourbon Street and injured at least eight people.

There was a group of students that invited me to join them for a Friday night out in the city, but I declined. I said I might go the next night if they returned. They didn’t. That night haunted me for the longest time.

The incident prompted the city to put up barricades in the quarter. I understand some of the protections weren’t up or were being upgraded at the time of this latest attack.

Oh, and yes, we were seminarians, but we were young, we liked music, having a drink or two, being among regular people and blowing off steam. Some people have a hard time understanding that.

I have a hard time understanding why someone would do what these drivers did.

My earlier post today was supposed to be it for me until later this month, as I am still healing, but I can’t stop thinking about the many layers to this. And my early post was written and scheduled long ago, and I’d all but forgotten it existed. Back to bed I go.

Here’s hoping you get through this new year safely.

Bourbon Street photo by travelview via Shutterstock.

The post The attack on Bourbon Street in New Orleans breaks my heart and is an echo of 1982 appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published January 1, 2025

Although I came out as transgender in 2017, there were no photos of Carly Dubois online until the first day of 2020. Well, except for my feet, showing off a fresh pedicure.

In December 2019, I decided it was time to be visible. It felt safe enough.

Little did I know.

On New Year’s Eve eve, I spent hours at Ulta getting made up for the photo and having my hair colored for the first time. They did a wonderful job.

Look how short my hair is.

I love that color. Someday, I might do it again.

The stylist who colored and shaped it is out of the business now, which makes me sad, but I hope she’s happy doing whatever she’s doing. Cami, sending love to you. You gave me confidence and changed my life.

She took pictures. I took pictures. Then I walked out of Ulta.

And I saw a photo booth in the mall. Hmm …

Why not?

The photo I now call Sepia Carly was the first photo of me in my entire life that I liked, and I didn’t just like it. I loved it.

It got plenty of display time on my social media accounts and elsewhere. And I loved telling the story of how it came about.

The story of how it came about

What I discovered in the photo booth is that I could see myself before the camera would take the picture. That made all the difference.

I’d avoided mirrors my whole life until then and did my best to not have photos taken of me. Even after being made up at Ulta, I was uncomfortable with it.

Somehow, in the photo booth, I liked what I saw and relaxed, which made me like what I saw even more, and I became happy, almost playful. People say they love Sepia Carly because she looks sassy, body language and all, but truth be told, I think that was an accident.

I had my crossbody bag over one shoulder, not across my body, and I’m pretty sure I raised that shoulder and lowered the other one to help keep the bag from sliding off.

Unintended result: The Carly you see in that photo. The first Carly the world ever saw.

Now you know.

We’ve come a long way

My hair journey has had some wild moments, with pinks and purples and reds and such. Now I’m leaning into my natural color, which I discovered was a glorious white/silver after the other colors faded away.

I still say I look better walking away from you than I do face to face.

Five years ago, I had fun turning Sepia Carly into the focal point of my wallpaper, or background, on Twitter. It was fun because it was so unlike me: calling attention to myself, and doing so in a way that’s a little over the top if you’re not in on the joke.

I’m talking about presenting the photo as art in a gallery. The words are serious and real.

It says she’s Carly, and that she used to hate looking at herself. … And then one day she realized who she really was, and everything changed. That’s so very cool.”

It is.

This will be by far the scariest year of my transition so far, and of my life. I wanted to begin it with a pleasant memory. I don’t know how many of those I’ll have after the 19th. I’m really struggling right now. I sleep 12 to 16 hours a day, and I almost never leave my bed. It’s a good thing I learned how to post with my phone. I can do it even under a blanket fort.

I’m still in 16 kinds of pain. But a delivery person handed me something over the weekend and said, “Have a good one, ma’am.” It cost them nothing to say, and it made the pain vanish for a few hours. A respite from constant struggle is as good as it gets now.

Sending love.

If you appreciate what you find here and are feeling generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading. Here’s a butterfly for you.

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The post Five years ago, I greeted a new year with a new look appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published December 25, 2024 

Holidays haven’t been holidays for me since early in my journalism career. When you put out a paper every day and the news doesn’t stop, the days all start to blend together. Then someone brings you a dinner to heat up and you remember.

Oh, right. It’s Christmas.

Twenty years ago today, I dared travel from Baton Rouge to Lake Charles to spend the day at my mom’s house before flying to Orlando the next morning for a week at the Capital One Bowl, but Nick Saban had other plans. He was leaving LSU for the NFL after all. So I had to hustle back for a full evening of coverage (and stay up all night) before heading to the airport in New Orleans.

Thanks, Saint Nick. Owe you one.

(When we got to our hotel rooms in Orlando, we turned on CNN and saw video of the tsunami in the Indian Ocean. I thought the world was ending.)

This year, Dec. 25 is Wednesday. Just Wednesday. As usual, a holiday showed up with me unprepared, but with a special twist. I have no food in my apartment, and no idea if I’ll be able to find any today.

I haven’t worked since Nov. 3, and I’ve slept between 12 and 16 hours every day for more than a month. That and other medical and mental health factors have done a number on my ADHD brain. My three days this week on liquids only, no solid food, ended with my apartment devoid of anything to munch, by design, and with no provisions for afterward.

So after 3 this morning I trudged downstairs to the vending machine across the hall from the laundry room and decided to buy cheese crackers and a soda.

But the bag got stuck.

“A good metaphor for my life lately,” I said in the predawn quiet.

But wait. There’s more.

I went back upstairs and got more quarters. I did have the foresight to get quarters Monday, for laundry, so I have plenty.

“I’ll buy the same thing, and that bag will bring down the other bag, and I’ll have both for today,” I thought.

Nope.

See the first one down there? It dropped, yes, but the new purchase was otherwise in vain. That bag took its place in the stuck position.

With the first one and the second one there, my brain did what it does.

“And the first one said to the second one there, I hope you’re having fun.”

I had more quarters with me. “Let’s see if the Cheez-Its have magic in them.”

One more press of 7.

“An even better metaphor for my life lately,” I said, to no one there.

Lucked my way into some nuts. Saving the crackers for later.

I left the remaining three quarters I had in my hand in the laundry room. Someone should have some good luck today.

When all else fails, put on some music

I’ve made no secret of my break from my churchy past, especially with the Catholic Church (and the Catholic six SCOTUS justices) making my existence as a trans woman so tenuous.

But every now and then I take comfort in some of the songs I played on guitar and sang at Mass way back when, including Christmas midnight Mass. Some of them are beautiful, and I still remember every chord and word.

This one always gets me.

“A time will come for singing when all your tears are shed.”

Some of the language could probably use updating, but the song always leaves me wishing for everyone to be relieved of their burdens.

We don’t need “the Lord,” mentioned in the song, for us to demand that men lay down their armor and hammer their swords into ploughs, to repair the wealth disparity, to work to mend broken hearts. I wait for the day when hatred grows old.

We have everything we need to fix this world. We just choose not to.

I am writing about the men (and the women who prop up their power) who protect the systems that sustain the pain of so many. You will read those words someday soon.

Going back to sleep now. It’s pretty much all I do now. This kind of healing takes time.

Sending love and hope for peace. Happy Wednesday, and whatever else it is for you.

If you appreciate what you find here and are feeling generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading. Here’s a butterfly for you.

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The post For me, today is Wednesday. Whatever it is for you, I hope it’s a good one appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published December 17, 2024

I might not be bringing sexy back, but when I couldn’t sleep last night I thought I might bring blogrolls back. It’s a way to freshen up my website with a throwback.

Remember blogrolls? I decided to add my version of one to the sidebar.

This video helped a lot.

In naming it, I really stuck with the throwback theme.

I wonder how many people will get the reference when they see it.

I’m not sure what I’ll do if I want to list more than six items, but I’ll worry about that later.

Now I think I’ll try again to sleep. You’d think I remember how, considering it’s almost all I’ve done since early November.

Sending love.

If you appreciate what you find here and are feeling generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading! Here’s a butterfly for you.

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The post Coolest Thing I Learned Today: Making my own version of a blogroll appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.

Published December 15, 2024

Yesterday, all my troubles did not seem so far away.

I woke up to a story in the local paper about the possibility the building I live in might have to go away for a major bistate project, which would leave me looking for a place to live.

This is one of the last “affordable” places in the city. The monthly rent I pay is $750 less than fair market value for a similar apartment. Where would I go? I have looked all over Oregon and Washington, and the options are depressing.

I ordered a modest grocery delivery, and as I was closing the door, the shopper asked if she could scan one of the products for a record of the transaction. When I began to reopen the door, the lock fell to the floor, leaving a big hole where it used to be.

This is the fourth time since I moved in here in 2018. Right now, I can’t lock my door if I leave. I’ve decided not to leave.

Meanwhile, my leave from work has hit a snag as I wait for approval. The other stuff, the assault on trans rights and on all of the load-bearing supports holding together the country, that hasn’t gone away. My depression, my nightmares, my full-body tremors, twitches, missteps, pain and more, that hasn’t gone away.

Sleep is the best thing I’ve got going right now.

My sleeping area doesn’t look like this right now. You don’t want to see what my sleeping area looks like right now.

Sending love.

If you appreciate what you find here and are feeling generous, you can check out the Tip Jar. Thank you for reading! Here’s a butterfly for you.

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The post No wonder sleep is better than being awake these days appeared first on CarlyJDubois.com.