James Knowles
Culture Editor
A wrinkled piece of paper, with the words “PLEASE LOOK UP!!!!!” printed large in all-caps across its surface, was taped to a garbage bin outside the Weber Fine Arts Building. A comment in parentheses specified the nearest window — the word “window” was repeated again in large, uneven handwriting.
There were more signs nearby. Some were copies, with arrows drawn by the same frantic hand as the first pointing to a window in the concrete overhang above. Others featured singular large arrows pointing in the same direction, “please” written inside each.
Behind the glass of the window was the message someone found so important:
“DON’T KILL KIDS
82% of trans youth consider suicide
Gender affirming care lowers their death rate by 70%”
The window was situated in Alyssa Schmitt’s workspace in the Weber painting studio, and the signs were theirs. Schmitt (who uses they/them pronouns) created the project, named “Don’t Look Up,” as a combination of a public art piece and a social experiment.
Amid a recent wave of transphobic sentiment and legislation, including LB 574, which would ban gender affirming care for Nebraskans under 19 years of age (including puberty blockers, hormone therapies, and gender-affirming surgeries) and recently advanced in the Nebraska Legislature, Schmitt said they felt the need to do something to fight back:
“I made the sign and put it up, and then the need for people to actually see it and hear it became more important to me. That’s why I feel like I kept adding so much, because in a way the sign is… a cry for help because at this point in time, we have people who are dying.”
Schmitt’s message was drawn from a 2022 JAMA Network study of 104 trans and nonbinary youth that found gender affirming care (including puberty blockers and certain hormones) was associated with 73% lower odds of suicidality, as well as a PubMed study that found 82% of trans individuals have considered suicide and 40% have attempted it.
Schmitt first created the sign after being inspired by the walkout organized by students of Central High School on “March 31,” the Transgender Day of Visibility. Alongside a few friends with their own signs, Schmitt protested at the intersection of Dodge and 72nd streets. Days later, they decided to put the sign to another use:
“So seeing the sign kind of got me thinking… I have a huge window in my studio space. Why am I not using it to say something?”
After putting the sign in the window, they needed to ensure that it would be seen. They initially decided to use reverse psychology, and put up signs reading “don’t look up.” A few days later, they switched the signs to the straightforward and desperate “please look up.”
From when they installed the first signs, Schmitt had spent hours observing passersby and their reactions to the display.
“I kind of started also keeping track of people that would look at the sign… but not take the time to read it,” Schmitt says, “sometimes people will fully stop and read it and think about it — and it was pretty few people that did that.”
By Schmitt’s observation, less than half of pedestrians even looked up, and only half of that number seemed to read the sign. They also noticed that the “don’t look up” signs seemed to be more effective.
In the final phase of the piece, Schmitt replaced all the outdoor signs with the data they collected, as well as direct challenges to the observer:
“492 anti-trans bills have been introduced THIS year
Will the stats be the same if the govt. [sic] comes to eradicate us?
Our blood is on the bystander’s hands”
As an artistic statement, Schmitt used the project to capture a specific moment in time. Its interactive and evolving nature made it something of a performance to them, and displayed Schmitt’s compulsivity as an artist.
“The haphazard chaoticness of the hangings and the writings is meant to reflect how it feels to know all this stuff and be hearing all this stuff, and watching it get worse and worse and worse, but you still have people that it goes right over their heads because they don’t have to think about it,” Schmitt says.
Schmitt has personal connections to the issue. Firstly, they’re part of the queer community.
“I don’t consider myself to be trans, but gender is something that I’ve questioned,” Schmitt says.
Ultimately, they find it unimportant.
“People should be able to just be who they are and not have to be defined by their gender”
Perhaps more importantly for Schmitt, though, one of their closest friends is trans.
“Seeing someone first-hand go through all of the joys and horrors of being a trans person in this world just inspires me and makes me want to protect more people like him because I care about him,” Schmitt says.
While such a personal connection has been a motivating factor for Schmitt, they think that apathy from those without any such connection to the issue is one of the most dangerous things of all — ultimately, that apathy is what they hoped to fight with their public piece.
“It’s not the people that are hateful that necessarily allow for these things to go down, it’s the people that don’t believe it’ll ever get that bad,” Schmitt says, “And it’s the people that it doesn’t matter to them, it doesn’t affect them, they don’t have to care. It’s the people that, you know… just walk on by.”
