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BUENOS AIRES, Argentina. Last week, it was publicly announced that journalist Franco Torchia had been fired from the daily dating show "Flechazo, amor oculto," broadcast on Channel 9.

But what kind of "love" do TV programs seek to reproduce and sustain? Does the media still hide and discuss expressions of affection from people who don't respond to the heterocis?

Torchia stopped appearing on the show, and a few days later we read on her Twitter that it was because she opposed discriminatory decisions.

“For those asking, Channel 9 kicked me off the show #Flechazo. Its authorities uphold a discriminatory policy according to which the program only unites cis-heterosexual couples.

At Torchia's insistence, one of the programs featured trans women. But that program wasn't aired at the time, but was shelved (as is often the case with our demands) for a few months. After much protest, the program was aired.

When did it air? November 30th, the day of the Argentina-Poland game. Given the World Cup pre-season, the program received little coverage.

Are gender-based connections and expressions that don't respond to hegemonic demands intentionally being made invisible? It's no small matter that, after the episode was uploaded to YouTube, the only part of the video preview for that particular broadcast that doesn't show the faces of the participants is the one that shows the hosts.

Because of “the people”

In most cases, making our existence visible in any expression that grants us citizenship—which are nothing more and nothing less than Human Rights—remains a battleground. The excuses are often confusing. We encounter "nice" people in different spaces who tell us that "everything is fine" with dissidents, but when they give us space, we end up in spaces of subordination. Inclusive ethics have their limits.

The limits, the ones that people who exclude us usually argue, are usually "the people": a shapeless mass of society that is supposedly not ready to see what is known and that prefers to continue speaking in euphemisms.

concealment has always been present in many ways. In the workplace, we have had to fight for a quota that would guarantee our right to work , and it remains a constant struggle, not only for inclusion but also for permanence, not to mention recognition of our identities and "dignified treatment."

The emotional level, expressing our kisses, hugs, and caresses, is still directly related to what "shouldn't be seen" in the media, in public squares, or in any public space. "Because there are children," they say. And in doing so, the capacity to grow in the world as it is: diverse, is underestimated and limited.

Is it worth occupying these spaces?

The question these discriminatory actions lead me to is: is it worth trying to occupy these spaces? In many cases, occupying them means waging cultural battles with producers, bosses, colleagues, and institutions whose policies are governed by a rating system, which is nothing more than the "sale" of goods or services. A capitalism we cannot escape. If we put on a blindfold, we remain complicit in these devices of violence.

So is it worth it? And the answer is, at least for me: yes!

Because our lives are filled with collective stories that were battles we must continue to defend. Because abandoning the struggle is a step backwards in our rights, which were won, not granted out of "good vibes." These struggles often seem confused and foreign to us, but at some point we will always be singled out as targets of discrimination. Like what's happening today to Franco, like what happened to that colleague whose boss told her: "It's not a problem here that you're trans, but come to work as feminine as possible and dress normally."

Love as an engine of change

The engine of change is love, our beloved Lohana Berkins told us. And that love, in many cases, is a battle against hatred, which continues to curtail our expressions and existences. We don't want a future without being able to express ourselves, without being able to appear in the media and have our loved ones seen, because that translates into being able to sit with our loved ones and hug each other in a plaza without them passing by and insulting us or throwing things at us. We don't want that future for children, or for anyone, and to achieve that, we must unify that "everything is fine with diversity" with coherent practices, otherwise it will continue to be a lie.

We support and thank Franco Torchia because, despite the difficult time he's going through in this situation, which isn't just work-related, he paves the way for defusing hypocrisies and allowing us to reflect on the situation.