Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDoR)

On November 20 of each year, in hundreds of cities around the world, names are read aloud. There is no applause, no singing, no political speeches. Names of people murdered because they were transgender are read. The Transgender Day of Remembrance — TDoR — is the international day dedicated to their memory. It is one of the oldest and most deeply felt observances in the trans community, and its history begins with an unsolved murder.

The Murder of Rita Hester

On November 28, 1998, Rita Hester was found in her apartment in Allston, a neighborhood in Boston, Massachusetts [2]. She was 34 years old. She was an African-American transgender woman, known in her neighborhood for her outgoing and lively personality. She was stabbed more than twenty times. She died shortly after being transported to the hospital [3].

Her murder was never solved [3].

Media coverage was sparse and often disrespectful. Several newspapers used her deadname and masculine pronouns, a treatment that was the norm for trans victims at the time. The Boston police did not prioritize the investigation. The case remained open, with no arrests, no trial, no justice.

On the Friday following Hester’s death, December 4, 1998, about 250 people gathered for a candlelight vigil in her memory [3]. It was one of the largest demonstrations in Boston for a trans victim. But it was not an isolated incident: her murder was part of a recurring pattern of lethal violence against trans women, particularly Black women and women of color, which institutions and the media systematically tended to ignore.

“Remembering Our Dead”: Gwendolyn Ann Smith’s Project

Before TDoR, there was no centralized archive of murdered trans people. Their names appeared in short local news blurbs—if they appeared at all—and were then forgotten.

In 1998, activist, writer, and graphic designer Gwendolyn Ann Smith decided to change things. She created the web project “Remembering Our Dead”, an online archive that documented murders of transgender people dating back to 1970 [1][4]. Each entry contained the victim’s name, age, location, and circumstances of death. The project made visible what institutions were hiding: a pattern of lethal violence that disproportionately affected trans women of color.

It was the realization that cases like Rita Hester’s and Chanelle Pickett’s—another Black trans woman murdered in Watertown, Massachusetts, in 1996—were being systematically forgotten that motivated Smith to transform individual grief into collective memory.

The First Vigil: November 20, 1999

On November 20, 1999, one year after Rita Hester’s death, Gwendolyn Ann Smith organized the first Transgender Day of Remembrance vigil in San Francisco [1]. The date of November 20 does not correspond exactly to the day of Hester’s death (November 28), but rather to the time when Smith chose to establish the public remembrance.

The ceremony was simple, and has remained so: lit candles, the reading of names, silence. No music, no rallies. Just the weight of the names spoken aloud, one after the other.

That first year, a few dozen people attended. But the idea spread rapidly. Within a few years, TDoR vigils were being organized in dozens, then hundreds of cities worldwide. Today, TDoR is observed in over 185 countries [1].

How TDoR is Observed

TDoR maintains an intentionally somber and respectful structure. The traditional ceremony includes:

• Reading of the names: The names of trans and gender-diverse people murdered in the previous year are read aloud, along with their age, country, and the circumstances of their death.
• Lighting of candles: Each participant lights a candle in memory of the victims.
• Moment of silence: The ceremony concludes with a collective silence.

The simplicity is intentional. Smith has always insisted that TDoR is not a political rally or a protest: it is an act of remembrance. Words are kept to a minimum. What matters is presence, listening, and acknowledging that every name corresponds to a life.

In many cities, the vigil is preceded or followed by a candlelight march—a silent procession with torches or candles—that crosses the city center or heads toward a symbolic location.

The Data: The Trans Murder Monitoring Project

The data read during TDoR vigils comes from the Trans Murder Monitoring Project (TMM), a research project coordinated by TGEU (Transgender Europe) and its partner organization Transrespect versus Transphobia Worldwide [6].

The TMM collects and analyzes data on the murders of trans and gender-diverse people globally, based on news reports, local organization reports, and activist submissions. Every year, on the occasion of TDoR, TGEU publishes an updated report with the numbers from the previous year [7].

The Numbers

The data is alarming and persistent:

• Between October 2024 and September 2025, at least 281 murders of trans and gender-diverse people were documented worldwide [5].
• Since 2008, when systematic monitoring began, the total has surpassed 5,300 documented murders [5].
• 90% of the victims were trans women or transfeminine people [5].
• 88% of the victims were Black, Indigenous, or people of color [5].
• The countries with the highest number of documented cases are historically Brazil, Mexico, and the United States [6].

These numbers represent an underestimate. In many countries, murders of trans people are not registered as such, because the police do not recognize the victim’s gender identity, because family members insist on using their deadname, or because a data collection system is completely lacking. The TMM itself warns that the actual numbers are undoubtedly higher [6].

Who the Victims Are

Data analysis reveals a clear and consistent pattern. Lethal violence against trans people does not strike evenly: it is concentrated on specific groups.

The victims are overwhelmingly trans women of color, often living in conditions of economic and social marginalization. Many were involved in sex work—not by choice, but because discrimination in the job market had excluded them from any alternative. Many were young: the average age of the victims is around 30 years old.

The intersectionality of transphobic violence is a central element that TDoR helps make visible. It is not just about transphobia: it is transphobia intertwined with racism, poverty, social exclusion, and the stigma tied to sex work.

TDoR in Italy

In Italy, TDoR is commemorated in numerous cities with candlelight marches, vigils, and public readings organized by associations such as Arcigay, MIT (Movimento Identità Trans / Trans Identity Movement), and local trans collectives [10].

Commemorations in Cities

• Rome: Vigils take place in symbolic locations, often in central squares or in front of institutional headquarters. The Mario Mieli Homosexual Culture Circle is among the main organizers.
• Turin: Every November 20, a demonstration is held in Piazza Castello, a historical landmark for the city’s LGBTQ+ initiatives.
• Naples: Commemorations take place in locations tied to the history of the Neapolitan trans community, which has one of the most deeply rooted activist traditions in Italy.
• Milan: The vigil is generally held in Piazza della Scala or at the Arco della Pace, organized by Arcigay Milan and CIG (Centro di Iniziativa Gay).
• Bologna: The historical headquarters of MIT, the city hosts one of the most heavily attended vigils in Italy every year.

The Italian Situation

Italy presents a specific picture. On the one hand, it does not record the tragic numbers of Brazil or the United States in terms of documented trans murders. On the other hand, it still lacks a specific law against hate crimes based on gender identity—the defeat of the Zan Bill in 2021 left a legislative void that makes it more difficult to monitor and suppress transphobic violence [9].

OSCAD (Observatory for Security Against Acts of Discrimination), a joint interagency body of the Ministry of the Interior, collects reports of hate crimes, but data on anti-trans violence remains partial and non-systematic [9]. Therefore, the Italian TDoR also takes on a function of denunciation: making visible a form of violence that institutions struggle to measure.

Beyond Commemoration

TDoR was born as a day of mourning, and it remains as such. But over the years, it has taken on other functions as well.

Awareness

For many cisgender people, TDoR represents their first contact with the reality of transphobic violence. Reading the names—along with the age, location, and circumstances—has an impact that abstract statistics cannot have. Hearing that a 22-year-old girl was stabbed in her own home is different from looking at a graph about homicides.

Community

For trans people, TDoR is a moment of collective recognition. In a society that often invisibilizes trans experiences, coming together to commemorate those we have lost is an act of affirmation: these lives mattered, and the community does not forget them.

Documentation

TDoR and the Trans Murder Monitoring Project that accompanies it serve a documentation function that institutions often fail to provide. Every year, the TMM report represents the most comprehensive and cited source on anti-trans violence globally.

Criticisms and Debate

TDoR is not immune to criticism, much of which comes from within the trans community itself.

A recurring criticism is that, for years, the only internationally recognized trans visibility day was a day of death. Activist Rachel Crandall-Crocker founded the Transgender Day of Visibility in 2009 precisely to address this gap: the trans community needed a day to celebrate life, not just mourning.

Another criticism concerns the composition of the vigils: in many cities, the majority of attendees and organizers are white, while the vast majority of commemorated victims are people of color. This dissonance has led to internal reflections on the need for a TDoR more centered on the voices and experiences of the most affected communities.

Finally, some activists have noted that TDoR risks becoming an empty ritual if not accompanied by concrete actions: anti-discrimination laws, access to healthcare, employment inclusion programs, and the fight against poverty. Commemorating the victims without addressing the root causes of violence is not enough.

Why TDoR Matters

The Transgender Day of Remembrance exists because trans people are murdered and forgotten. It exists because transphobic violence is not a passing emergency, but a structural pattern that repeats year after year, with the same dynamics and the same victims: trans women, women of color, young, and poor.

TDoR does not solve this violence. But it makes it visible. And in a world that prefers not to see, visibility is already a political act.

Every candle lit on November 20 says: this person existed. This person was killed. This person will not be forgotten.