Let's be under no illusions: There are attacks on, for example

Pete Buttigieg, himself a servant of his country in war and in peace, spoke with firm conviction: “Let’s be under no illusions: There are attacks on, for example, transgender Americans from the Oval Office, picking on troops—people willing to lay down their lives for this country—not to mention teenagers in our high schools. So we’ve got to end the war on trans Americans.” These words are not spoken lightly; they are a shield raised against injustice, a call to conscience. For Buttigieg, who has borne the weight of military service, knew the cost of sacrifice. To see fellow citizens—whether soldiers or children—targeted by their own leaders, was to see the nation betray the very principles for which it claims to stand.

The origin of this cry rests in the stormy years when political leaders sought to bar transgender Americans from serving openly in the military, and when policies and rhetoric from the highest office in the land fed hostility toward them. At the same time, transgender youth endured harassment in schools, denied the dignity of safety and belonging. Buttigieg’s words pierce through the fog of politics to reveal the truth: these were not debates about abstractions, but assaults upon living, breathing people—neighbors, friends, sons, daughters, comrades-in-arms. Thus he declared it plainly: there is a war on trans Americans, and it must be ended.

History itself shows us the pain of such exclusions. Recall the era when African Americans were barred from full participation in the armed forces, their loyalty questioned, their courage doubted. Yet in the crucible of war—from the Tuskegee Airmen to the Black infantry of World War II—they proved with blood and valor that equality denied is never equality deserved. Later, when women fought for the right to serve, they too were told they had no place in the battlefield. Yet today they stand among generals and admirals. The story repeats: whenever a group is cast out, the nation wounds itself, for it loses not only their service, but also its own moral strength.

And consider the plight of the young. To be a teenager, already vulnerable, and to find oneself mocked, harassed, or erased by policies crafted in distant chambers of power—this is to carry a burden heavier than youth should bear. History tells us that persecution of the young leaves scars that endure for generations. When Jewish children were shunned in Nazi Germany’s schools, when Black children faced jeering mobs at the schoolhouse doors in the Jim Crow South, these were not minor exclusions. They were wounds upon the soul of a people. Buttigieg, in naming transgender youth, calls us to see that the same story is unfolding again, and to act before it festers into deeper injustice.

The meaning of Buttigieg’s words is therefore both simple and profound: a nation cannot claim to honor freedom while waging war on its own people. To exclude those willing to defend the republic is to betray the republic itself. To target children is to strike at the future. True strength lies not in uniformity, but in the embrace of all who call the nation home. When leaders use their power to pick on the vulnerable, they invert the very purpose of leadership, which is to protect, uplift, and bind together.

The lesson, then, is clear: in every generation there arises the temptation to single out some group as less worthy, less human, less American. Resist this temptation with all the strength of your heart. Stand beside the marginalized, not above them. Speak their names in dignity, not derision. Defend their rights, for in defending them you defend the soul of your nation. Silence, in such times, is complicity; courage, in such times, is loyalty.

Practical wisdom demands this: if you are a leader, use your voice to affirm the worth of every citizen. If you are a teacher, shield your students from cruelty. If you are a soldier, remember that the brother or sister at your side, regardless of gender or identity, may one day save your life. And if you are simply a neighbor, practice kindness, for in the small gestures of respect and solidarity, the great battles of justice are won.

Let the teaching resound: end the war on trans Americans—and on all people unjustly targeted. Build instead a peace where every person’s dignity is honored, where the young may grow without fear, where those who would serve may serve proudly. For only in such a nation does freedom ring true, and only in such a land can unity stand unbroken.