For this year’s Transgender Day of Visibility, we’ve compiled a few stories from four transgender YDNC members and friends. The question asked was “What does visibility mean to you?”
Here are their stories:
From Arden Jones
I am absolutely certain that I met another transgender person before I turned 19. I passed her in the street. I spoke with her at a party. She was checking her hair in the mirror when I walked out of the bathroom stall at the airport. The thing is, I didn’t know she was trans.
I spent most of my childhood believing that something was deeply wrong with me. Given the opportunity, I chose to attend a girls’ school, under the impression that what girls’ schools did was turn you into a girl. Even at 4 and a half, I knew I wasn’t one. (Spoiler: I’m still a guy.)
I’m a Millennial, so the process of coming out was not easy. Not having any knowledge of trans people meant that I had no framework for understanding what was different about me. I am so happy for the kids today and that I have the chance to be a role model for people like my friend’s son.
Transgender visibility, for me, means that I get to go out into the world and be a rebuttal to what some people say about people like me. If I’m working at a political event, writing for a literary journal, or just gardening in my front yard – that’s a chance to make sure trans kids know that they have a future.
Being visible is also a way to reduce the burden of shame that society has dumped on us. We don’t know why people are trans, (though there are many theories) and frankly the “why” doesn’t matter. People should treat each other with basic decency and respect because it’s the right thing to do. Why should I be afraid of being open about who I am? Being trans is the least interesting thing about me. I grew half my veggies last year and once scared off a grizzly bear by arguing loudly in French (thanks mama)- so obviously, being trans doesn’t define me at all, though it’s a part of who I am.
From (Andy) Elim Craighill-Middleton
Transgender Day of Visibility means a lot to me – among the background noise, the harassment, and static, it’s a moment where I can truly exist. Even a decade ago, folks like me would obscure who they were, or hide in small groups because the word ‘transgender’ was barely known. We lived, loved, and died in silence. Many of us – self included – had to come out and come to terms before even knowing there was a word for what we were feeling. Can you even imagine how hard it is to be something, but not have the words to describe what you are? We’ve got labels, sure; People refer to themselves by ethnicity, nationality, sexuality, gender, fandom, personality type, and more – but ours were kept secret, and for good reason. Police have arrested people for what we call ‘walking while trans‘, we’ve been beaten and killed, but never, ever broken.
Today means so much more. Having this level of visibility and being recognized as a valid person is such an empowering, uplifting feeling. We’ve gotten here on the backs of those who came before us – those who lived their lives unapologetically and made a difference in their communities (just look at Cecilia Gentili) to give us a chance to reach the same heights our cisgender peers did and do, and today we honor them and their living legacies – ourselves and our community.
Here’s the truth: We’re here. We’re not going away. And we’re humans, just like you.
Today is proof we matter. Proof we exist. And we’re going to keep existing; If there’s a shadow, it’s because we’ve cast a light. Choose to celebrate trans joy with us – because that’s what it’s about.
From Cooper B.
Transgender Day of Visibility means that I get to count as a person. It means that when my family or my boss reject me based on who I am, I still get to have a voice and be part of a community. Visibility’s my armor.
It’s hard not to focus on the bad days sometimes. Like when my boss quit when she found out I was trans. It caused me a lot of pain to realize someone would rather not exist around me than accept me for who I am. I thought we were friends.
Now, I look for trans joy and today gives me that chance. It is inspiring to see people in power care about people like me, and to see people like me in power and media, like Olivia Hill or Laverne Cox. I get to have hope.
I get to be a person doing all kinds of jobs. I get to be a guy playing video games, a guy at the gym, and a guy hanging out with friends. Basically, I get to be me.
There’s always another dead trans kid in the news, but that’s not all we are. It is good to see happy living ones, and while we see a lot of tragedies in our community, there are more and more stories of success, joy, and acceptance. We’ve come so far in just a few years, and under Biden we’re going to go further.
We’re normal people with the same hopes and dreams as you. Thanks for seeing us, too.
From Raven R.
For me, being a POC transwoman, I have lived the majority of my life hiding who I am—choosing to go unseen—for the sake and comfort of others. From an early age I felt lost and believed it would be impossible to find a place for myself in this life I did not choose for myself. As time went on, I dared to open up and share the version of myself that I thought had to remain provide for my safety, I eventually found family in others beyond the bond of blood.
It is the love and kindness that I have received from my found family that gives me the strength to keep going day by day. I felt seen in ways I could have never imagined by individuals I have yet to even meet face to face. They respect me and encourage me to continue taking steps in this journey of self-expression and acceptance that I may one day find comfort in my own skin. They have made homes for me within their hearts.
For me, being trans means waking up and making a conscious decision to believe in hope. To face rejection or ridicule and still believe that there is acceptance for you; to face adversity and despair and still believe that you can find joy. It is an exercise in courage and self-kindness. I believe my journey has given me a unique perspective and has allowed me to cultivate a level of empathy and understanding that has brought such treasured souls into my life that I could not dream of being anyone–or anyway–else.
