As we enter this new year, I’ve found myself thinking about this work in very personal ways.

Just a few weeks ago, I was listening to the news, and I felt that familiar heaviness settle in—the kind that comes when you realize how much fear and misinformation are shaping conversations about trans and gender-diverse youth. More recently, I was sitting with colleagues and friends—clinicians who care deeply about their work—talking not just about our clients, but about the scrutiny, exhaustion, and uncertainty many of us are carrying right now. What struck me most in those moments was not despair, but resolve.

This moment is urgent.

Across the country, anti-trans legislation and public attacks are not only targeting trans youth and their families, but also the caregivers and professionals who support them. Parents are being made to doubt themselves. Clinicians are being asked to defend ethical, evidence-based care. The emotional toll is real—and it is shared.

And this is exactly why Phase 1 matters now more than ever.

Phase 1 is about returning to what is steady and true. It is about grounding ourselves in a developmentally informed, relational understanding of gender—one that allows us to respond thoughtfully rather than react out of fear. When the outside world feels loud and destabilizing, Phase 1 reminds us that good care begins with listening, curiosity, and clinical integrity.

I also believe this work is deeply hopeful.

Every time I sit with a family who feels less alone after being truly heard, or speak with a clinician who feels re-anchored in their confidence and ethics, I am reminded that affirming care is not abstract—it is lived, relational, and profoundly impactful. Even in the face of hostility, there is so much quiet, meaningful work happening every day in therapy rooms, kitchens, classrooms, and communities.

I want to say this clearly: your work matters. Your steadiness matters. Choosing to stay engaged, informed, and compassionate in this climate is an act of courage. It sends a message—to youth, to families, and to one another—that care, dignity, and ethical practice are not negotiable.

My hope for 2026 is that GHTI serves as both a grounding place and a call forward: a space to deepen understanding, strengthen resolve, and remember that none of us are doing this work in isolation. Together, we are building something resilient—something that can withstand pressure and still lead with humanity.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for staying present. And thank you for continuing to show up for trans youth and their families when it matters most.

Until next time,
Shawn V Giammattei