The country woke up to Kansas. Merrique Jenson never slept.
For nearly 25 years, Merrique Jenson has built community and done the good work in the Midwest longer than most people have been paying attention. She has testified at state capitols, organized on the ground through wave after wave of anti-trans legislation, and watched from the inside as a momentum she helped build across Missouri, Kansas, and Arkansas grapples with its own contradictions.
I sat down with Merrique just over a week after Kansas passed SB 244. This sweeping anti-trans law invalidated trans people’s driver’s licenses overnight and introduced a bounty system targeting trans women in public spaces.
She wasn’t surprised. She was ready.
The conversation that enveloped was about what it actually means to do the work when the cameras aren’t rolling – and what it costs.
Midwest trans organizer, Merrique Jenson. (Photo: Sean Black)
Marie-Adélina de la Ferrière: For folks just now paying attention, what have you and other organizers been saying for months or years that this moment is proving right?
Merrique Jenson: We saw it when Missouri was at the forefront in 2023 of really chipping away and banning gender-affirming care. Not just for minors, but also for adults who were incarcerated, and adults who were on Medicaid. We’re frankly kind of surprised that Missouri wasn’t the one to do it first. Kansas has been one of the more progressive states in our region because of Governor Kelly, who’s an amazing advocate for trans people. She vetoed this, but it still got overturned by Kansas legislators.
For Missouri and Arkansas, two other states I work deeply in through Transformations, this is an area where there is a deep culture of intense racial bias and prejudice and violence. The Mason-Dixon line ran right through Missouri. And there is literally a settler mentality in this region: you don’t rock waves, you don’t push buttons. You are grateful for what you’re given; you don’t challenge the status quo.
Trans people are living in the very audacity of that. We’re living in our authentic brilliance and truth and beauty. And so trans people in the Midwest are in constant juxtaposition — not just to the culture and beliefs, but to the very idea of what the Midwest is built on.
Walk us through what resistance actually looks like right now. Not on social media, but the real work on the ground.
There’s Transformations and all the work we’ve done. We just finished our liberation camp this past fall. There’s also a new organization in Kansas getting real momentum right now called the LGBTQ Foundation of Kansas, run by a trans man named Matthew Newman. There’s not actually a lot of trans leaders running orgs in Kansas right now. A lot of the trans folks have gone underground.
And I want to name this: there was a white trans-identified person who was fundraising in the name of community, claiming to donate to Black trans women, and it turned out to be false. People were fake, and donations weren’t going where they said. They got called out enough times that complaints were filed with the Kansas attorney general, and the org shut down. That really hurt.
The narrative of people just leaving has been loud on social. But who does that actually serve? And what gets erased when fleeing is framed as the obvious solution?
I think it creates this idea that blue states are the answer.
The narrative of fleeing is really privileged. You’ve got to have money to move. You have to have a job that’s remote or transferable. The “great transmigration” is real, and people are moving from the Ozarks, from the South, from the Midwest to liberal blue states. But for most of the girls I know, most of the dolls, they haven’t even changed their IDs or birth certificates, because that in itself is a privilege. Getting a lawyer, finding the money, taking time off work.
So this law, in some ways, doesn’t directly affect them. But what it does do is create a further culture and climate of fear. People are now looking. There’s a real incentive to find a trans person because you can make $1,000 [from the bounty].
For people who want to move beyond outrage and actually be useful, what does meaningful solidarity look like right now? Where should resources, attention, and energy be going?
Doing exactly what you’re doing, right? People think about giving money, and of course, that’s important. But you have a platform, you have a voice. Use it to uplift and make sure when you’re talking about trans people, you’re actually trying to get it to other trans people.
A lot of times, people are talking about us, and I’m like, “Who is your core audience? Do you even know any trans people?” Start there. There are amazing trans folks talking about this. Instead of you telling the story, bring a trans person from Kansas onto your stream. You can curate it, ask questions, but use your platform to elevate. That’s how you redistribute resources.
I also need to say: I’m really sick and tired of national movements booking the same girl from New York, the same person from DC. If you keep doing that, just say you’re canceling out the Midwest. The folks we need to be listening to right now are the ones on the ground, who have the real skills. How many trans storytellers, editors, and journalists do we actually have? It is a handful. That is really important work to invest in.
I’ve also felt very alone in this work. Even going to national conferences and looking around, genuinely feeling like there’s not even a level of respect for what I do that’s given to other leaders because of the region. And I’m like, do y’all know I’m literally the only executive director running a trans organization covering three deeply red states? No one else is doing that. Period.
I know the work is heavy. How are you taking care of yourself right now?
What brings joy are my dogs. My partner, who calls me every day and checks on me. Camping. I’m a DJ. I love media-making and storytelling. And honestly? There’s a world where I’m like, I should just go do that. Go tell stories, talk to community. I think that’s really where my heart is.
Last question: What do you see winning looking like for trans Kansas, and what do you believe is possible in the next one to three years?
Winning would look like a really strong coalition of trans people from Kansas, together. Whatever that looks like. People who are actually in it, actually in the region, actually building with each other: not being parachuted in and out by national orgs, not being spoken for.
Just us: resourced, connected, and in it together.
