What does it mean to gather in a moment like this? To sit in a room—shoulder to shoulder with strangers—and feel, even briefly, that you are not alone.
For faculty from UC Berkeley’s Othering and Belonging Institute (OBI), that question is no longer abstract. It lives in classrooms where faculty weigh every word. It lives in policies that redraw who is protected and who is exposed. And it lives in the quiet calculations people make every day about whether it is safe to speak, to teach, to be fully seen.
And yet, people are still showing up.
Recently, OBI Faculty Cluster Chair Eric Stanley convened more than 80 students, scholars, and community members for a conversation on trans studies—not because the moment is easy, but because it is not. Because something in this moment calls “for the kind of collective space where we can make meaning together, even as the ground shifts beneath us.”
Stanley for decades has produced work at the intersections of trans studies, racial justice, and critical theory.
Recently they were given the Chancellor's Award for Advancing Institutional Excellence and Equity, which has been presented to Berkeley faculty members annually for outstanding contributions in enhancing equity, belonging, and justice through their research, teaching, and public university service.
The award includes research funding that Stanley plans to use to launch a new dialogue series exploring trans studies in today's political climate.
“As attacks on trans communities intensify and universities become an increasingly contested battleground,” said Stanley, “there is a need for spaces where students, faculty, staff, and community members can come together to think historically, collectively, and courageously about the challenges of the present moment.”
For Stanley, this is the work: not just producing knowledge, but creating the conditions where people can come together to hold it—and each other. We spoke with them recently about the current political climate, the importance of trans studies, the pressures facing higher education, and why belonging matters now more than ever.
You've described this as an intensified moment of attack on trans communities. What are you seeing right now, and why does it feel important to create a dialogue series in response?
ES: We're seeing attacks on multiple fronts at once. There are direct attacks on healthcare access, ongoing efforts to restrict gender-affirming care, and broader cultural and political campaigns that frame trans people as a problem to be solved rather than human beings deserving dignity and safety.
What's striking is that these attacks aren't happening in isolation. They're interconnected. The anti-trans executive orders, the efforts to close or undermine gender studies programs, the targeting of individual faculty members—these are all part of a larger project.
That's why the dialogue series feels important. Universities are one of the places where these debates are unfolding, but they're also places where we can gather people together to think critically about what's happening. The goal is not simply to react to the latest headline, but to understand the longer history that brought us here and what it means for the future.
You've argued that today's political climate didn't emerge overnight. For those who don’t agree, What historical context do you think people are missing?
ES: One of the challenges of the current moment is that people often ask, "Where did this come from?" But none of this came from nowhere.
There have been people organizing, planning, and building toward this political moment for years. That's why history matters. History helps us understand that what feels sudden is often the result of long-term efforts and long-standing ideologies.
In my own work, I've argued that the last several decades of LGBTQ inclusion in the United States were always provisional. There was a widespread belief that we were moving along a steady arc of progress, but that progress was much more fragile than many people wanted to believe.
What we're seeing now isn't simply a reversal. It's the exposure of tensions that were always present. The acceptance many people thought was secure always existed alongside forms of antagonism and violence that never fully disappeared. History is recursive. Some things are new, and some things are newly reformulated versions of things we've seen before. Understanding that helps us make sense of where we are now.
You've spoken about violence against trans communities extending beyond physical harm. What does that mean?
ES: Physical violence is obviously real and devastating, but it isn't the only form of violence that trans people experience.
Violence also includes the withdrawal of access to the things that make life livable. Healthcare. Housing. Community. Safety. The ability to participate in public life. When access to those things is restricted or removed, that has consequences that are every bit as profound.
We know that anti-trans violence is significantly underreported, particularly among communities that already have strained or adversarial relationships with institutions. If you're undocumented, if you're Black, if you're already vulnerable in multiple ways, reporting violence may not feel safe or possible.
That's why statistics only tell part of the story. They reveal some things, but they also conceal a tremendous amount of lived reality.
How is the current political climate affecting universities and the people who teach in them?
ES: There is absolutely a chilling effect.
Many faculty members feel increasingly vulnerable. There's a growing sense that anything said in a classroom can be recorded, circulated, and weaponized. In large classes especially, you don't always know who is recording or how something might be taken out of context.
What makes that particularly difficult is that many of us teach subjects that are now at the center of political debates. You can't meaningfully teach gender studies, ethnic studies, or related fields without engaging the very issues that are being targeted.
At the same time, I think this moment demonstrates why those fields are so important. If anything, these are the programs that should be expanding. They provide some of the intellectual tools necessary to understand what's happening around us. The attacks on them only reinforce their relevance.
A recurring theme in your work is isolation. Why does that feel so important right now?
ES: Because isolation is one of the things that makes these attacks effective.
People feel like they're experiencing something alone. They feel disconnected from others who may be going through similar things. When that happens, it becomes much harder to respond collectively.
The only remedy is collectivizing both the trauma and the response. That's part of what gatherings like these are trying to do. They're creating opportunities for people to be together, to think together, and to recognize that they're not alone.
There's something powerful about being physically present in a room with others. Online spaces can be important, but they don't always create the same feeling. Being in a room where you can lower your guard, even briefly, and engage honestly with others is incredibly meaningful right now.
What do you hope people take away from the dialogue series?
ES: I hope people leave feeling connected—to ideas, to history, and to one another.
Organizations like the Othering & Belonging Institute help create spaces where people can understand how different struggles are connected. They give us opportunities to think beyond survival and toward new possibilities.
Ultimately, I hope people leave with a stronger sense that another response is possible. Not just enduring this moment, but finding ways to move through it collectively, with greater clarity, deeper relationships, and a renewed commitment to building a world where more people can belong.
