She Was Fired for Defying Trump—But She's Coming Back Swinging

Karen Ortiz never expected to become a symbol. For years, the New York–based federal judge and public servant was known for her quiet diligence and commitment to civil rights law. But this spring, Ortiz was fired from the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) after vocally opposing an agency directive to deprioritize cases involving gender identity discrimination, a shift issued in response to a Trump executive order declaring only two “immutable” sexes. Ortiz called the move both unethical and unlawful, and sent a now-viral agency-wide email urging her colleagues to resist.

The EEOC claimed she was terminated for “unprofessional” conduct, citing internal messages she sent criticizing leadership, including Acting Chair Andrea Lucas, and warning of a growing “hostile environment” for LGBTQIA+ complainants. But Ortiz, who is now pursuing legal claims of whistleblower retaliation and discrimination, says the real reason is clear: she refused to stay silent. (The EEOC declined to comment, citing its policy not to discuss personnel matters.)

This week, civil rights groups sued the EEOC, accusing it of abandoning protections for transgender workers, and adding new urgency to the fight Ortiz had been waging from the inside. Now, Ortiz is speaking publicly about what it cost her to take that stand—and why she’d do it again.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity and length.

What led you to send the email urging your colleagues to resist the EEOC’s new directive on trans discrimination cases?

I’d just come back from visiting my mom and was still feeling raw. Mid-flight, I checked my email and saw yet another directive telling us to deprioritize trans discrimination cases. And I thought, this is bullshit. I typed out a message to my district colleagues—measured, legal, but clear: This isn’t normal. By the time I landed, the email had vanished from my outbox. Someone had deleted it. That’s when I realized, they weren’t just ignoring the law. They were actively silencing dissent.

That Monday, I walked into the office and sent a second email—this time to Acting Chair Andrea Lucas and copied over 1,000 colleagues. The subject line was “A Spoon is Better than a Fork.” I questioned her fitness to lead, let alone practice law. It said, essentially: I will not compromise my ethics. I knew the risks. But I couldn’t stay silent.

What has been the hardest part of that decision?

The silence. Not from the public, but from inside the EEOC. From colleagues I thought would stand up with me. This is civil rights work. If you can’t speak up when people are being harmed, what are you even doing here? It’s not enough to say you believe in justice. You have to act on it. And yet, the silence has been deafening. However, the trans and queer communities have checked in on me regularly. They don’t owe me anything, and still they reach out. I’ll be in a low moment, and I’ll get a message from someone just saying, ‘We see you.’ That lifts me. It reminds me that this is about more than me. It’s about all of us.

What were you told when you were fired, and what grounds did the agency give for your termination?

The first thing that went through my mind was, they know not what they do, and that management is absolutely spineless. The agency accused me of “conduct unbecoming a federal employee” for calling out illegal behavior by Andrea Lucas, and claimed I couldn’t be “rehabilitated.”

You’re now challenging your termination through the legal process. Can you share what legal claims you're bringing and what outcome you're hoping for?

I have two active cases: a whistleblower claim before the Merit Systems Protection Board, and an EEO complaint for discrimination and retaliation, which is still under investigation. If either isn’t resolved internally, my legal team—Incendii Law, a fierce, female-led firm—is prepared to take the fight to federal court.

Ultimately, I want to force real change in the agency’s leadership, which has been compromised by Andrea Lucas and this lawless administration. I’d like a public apology from the EEOC for the harm done to trans and nonbinary communities—and to me. I believe I can still help repair the damage, whether by returning as a judge or serving as a Commissioner. These cases take time, but I’m a former marathon runner. I have stamina.

Why did you decide to take legal action rather than walk away quietly?

I may be an introvert, but I don’t stay quiet when I see harm being done. Legal action forces the agency—and the government—to face what I’m exposing. This isn’t just about me. It’s about refusing to let them walk away quietly while attacking the rights of trans and nonbinary people. I’m just the vehicle pushing this into the headlines, and hopefully into people’s hearts. By taking this public, I’m saying—loudly and on the record—that trans and nonbinary people deserve the same rights and dignity as everyone else.

Did you ever imagine that speaking out against the EEOC’s new directive would put you in the national spotlight?

Not at all. I wasn’t grandstanding, I was just saying, “This isn’t legal.” But in some ways, I’ve been training for this my whole life. In high school, some boys toilet-papered our yard and spelled “FAT NYMPHO” in front of our house—to shame me for my body, my race, and for having sex. I didn’t call the police. I went to each of their homes and told their mothers what happened. That taught me early: People count on your silence. When you take that away, they panic.

I grew up as one of the few minorities in Garden City, Long Island. Even when I was liked, it felt conditional. I was still “Other.” Later, at Columbia, I could finally breathe. I stopped shrinking to fit. I’ve been unlearning and unpeeling ever since.

You’ve been through profound loss in the past few years. How has that reshaped your sense of identity?

I’m 53 now, and the layers keep falling away. My marriage ended. I lost my stepdad to brain cancer. My mother’s dementia advanced. Every one of those losses stripped something away, and what was left underneath was this steady, unwavering sense of self. I’m not afraid anymore—not of what people think, not of losing a title or a job. I’m just not. And that freedom? It’s everything.

You were fired for resisting what you saw as an unlawful directive. And yet you still speak about compassion for everyone involved. Why is that important to you?

When I say I care about people—even those who are harming others—I mean it. I can want consequences for them and still hold space for their humanity. That’s not weakness. That’s clarity. That’s strength. I don’t want to be the kind of person who loses compassion in the fight for justice. The point is to stay human. I don’t regret a thing. Not a single word. I know what I’m doing. And I know why. It’s not about ego. It’s about alignment. I’d rather live on cornflakes and community than keep a job that costs me my soul.

What would you say to other federal workers who feel like they’re being asked to compromise their values?

If they’re really your values, it shouldn’t be hard to stay true to them. Values aren’t meant to be convenient—they’re the truth of your soul. That truth is your North Star. Let it guide you, and you’ll never be lost. And don’t mistake clout for character. Just because you don’t have a management title doesn’t mean you can’t speak truth to power.

So what comes next, short term and long term for you?

Now that I have more time, I’ve been doing volunteer work in my community—I walk dogs through an organization called PAWS. I’m also working on a site called Feds Against Fascism to connect with other public servants who feel like the system has lost its way. And yes, my legal team is preparing to sue the EEOC. That’s the next immediate step.

Long term? I’m seriously considering running for office, specifically the Senate. I have the experience, the heart and soul of a public servant, and the audacity to throw my hat in the ring.