My Trans American Road Trip

Director: David Batty
Release Year: 2016

In the 2016 Channel 4 documentary My Trans American Road Trip, directed by David Batty, former Parachute Regiment officer and current affairs foreign correspondent Abigail Austen embarks on a deeply personal journey across a sharply divided United States. As the first British Army officer to undergo gender reassignment surgery, Austen is no stranger to struggle or controversy. But even she admits to being shaken by what she encountered while filming in the U.S., a nation she deeply admires.

 

The timing of the documentary is critical, filmed just days before the 2016 presidential election, with Donald Trump rising in the polls and LGBTQ+ rights hanging in the balance. The film unflinchingly exposes the raw and often vitriolic state of transgender discourse in America, as Austen sets out to understand why trans rights have become such a contentious electoral flashpoint. The documentary centers around Austen’s trip to North Carolina, the epicenter of a political and moral firestorm following the passage of House Bill 2, infamously known as the “Bathroom Bill.” The legislation mandates that individuals must use public restrooms corresponding to the gender on their birth certificate, effectively policing gender identity and excluding transgender people from public spaces. The bill sparked national protests, corporate boycotts, and a fervent debate over civil liberties. 

 

Austen, as both a journalist and a transgender woman, moves through this environment with grace and determination, seeking out conversations with those on both sides of the divide. From state lawmakers and pastors to activists and everyday citizens, she confronts a spectrum of opinion, much of it deeply unsettling, even when wrapped in the language of religious conviction or cultural tradition. One of the most striking aspects of the film is Austen’s unwavering composure. Her military background shows in her ability to remain calm and collected, even when faced with overt hostility. She listens, she asks questions, and she doesn’t flinch. Whether she’s sitting across from a firebrand preacher who insists no transgender person will ever use the women’s restroom in his church or talking to political figures who frame their transphobia in legalistic terms, Austen maintains a measured presence. It’s a strategy that pays off, allowing the viewer to absorb the contradictions and fears behind anti-trans rhetoric without distraction.

 

The documentary is visually rooted in Americana, dusty roads, small towns, churches with marquee signs proclaiming moral certitudes, but its true terrain is ideological. Austen’s conversations expose a moral panic cloaked in concern for children, safety, and tradition. These interviews do not simply reflect a discomfort with trans people; they lay bare a deeper unease about changing cultural norms and the erosion of binary thinking. It’s not just about bathrooms. It’s about identity, power, and who gets to define what it means to be a “real” American. One of the film’s most memorable moments occurs when Austen defies a church's explicit ban on trans women using the women’s restroom. After a sermon laced with condemnation, she quietly walks into the very bathroom she has just been told is off-limits. It’s a small act, but one charged with defiance and dignity, a moment that distills the absurdity and cruelty of laws like HB2.

 

In another standout scene, two real estate developers discuss the economic fallout from supporting the Bathroom Bill. Their concern isn’t for the transgender individuals the law marginalizes, but for the businesses fleeing the state in protest. The irony is thick: it takes financial loss, not moral reckoning, to spark regret. Austen also touches on the role of culture and celebrity in influencing public opinion. She references the Broadway musical Kinky Boots, which responded to the bill with a spirited anthem titled “Just Pee (Where You Want To Pee).” It’s a rare moment of levity in a documentary otherwise heavy with tension, reminding viewers that solidarity and joy still flourish even in hostile environments. But Austen does not leave the viewer with false hope. Instead, she paints a sobering portrait of a community under siege. “I thought things had started to change,” she says at one point, visibly rattled by the resistance she encounters.

 

For someone who had successfully fought to change military policy in the UK and had served proudly in the U.S. alongside American troops, the depth of anti-trans sentiment in parts of the country feels like a betrayal. Austen sees transphobia not as a fringe issue but as the next major civil rights battle, one that will require as much resolve and sacrifice as those that came before it. The documentary closes not with a sense of resolution, but with a call to awareness. Austen makes it clear that while some progress has been made, the trans community remains one of the most vulnerable in America. Legislative attacks like the Bathroom Bill may seem absurd on the surface, but they are part of a broader attempt to delegitimize transgender identities and restrict the spaces where trans people can exist freely. Austen’s road trip is both literal and symbolic, a map of a nation still at war with itself over who gets to belong. 

 

My Trans American Road Trip is a powerful and often uncomfortable watch. It does not sugarcoat the reality of life for transgender people in America, nor does it offer simple solutions. Instead, it demands that viewers look directly at the prejudice still embedded in the fabric of the nation and consider what it will take to uproot it. David Batty’s direction and Abigail Austen’s lived experience converge to deliver a film that is as urgent today as it was in 2016. For anyone trying to understand the stakes of the transgender rights movement, and the backlash against it, this documentary is essential viewing.

 

via: youtube

radiotimes.com and imdb

Image credits: YouTube