(Trans)itioning Across the Universe.
“Queer as being about the self that is at odds with everything around it and has to invent and create and find a place to speak and to thrive and to live.” — bell hooks
Gender and sexuality represent constructs of colonialism. I have lived long enough to know that much of society is not yet ready for that conversation. Notably when social media conveys the wrong message that the tiny, loud, and well-funded minority of white supremacists are more powerful than the alternative. That does not mean we cannot engage in conversations about deconstructing identity. Creating safe spaces where Queer people can thrive and explore who they are is possible. Despite any setbacks in gay liberation, I have witnessed substantial progress in galvanizing the LGBTQ+ community to engage in radical activism to combat societal shame that attempts to diminish our right to exist.
I am not fond of labels, but I am navigating a world where many of us attempt to make sense of who we are to establish supportive communities around us. I knew I was a human rights defender in 1987 after my friend Jackie, a Black trans woman, died from HIV complications following a battle with pneumonia. By the end of 1987, New York City reported 16,243 cumulative AIDS diagnoses and 9,866 total deaths. Those numbers increased over the years. Conceivably I was too young to fear the disease. However, I was painfully cognizant that I would never see Jackie again. I think about her often. Her life served as a beautiful reminder that Black joy was a possibility. She taught me never to reject whom I could become.
I am an entity that cannot be quantified. But most importantly, I am free. I have endured immense pressure from society to define myself. I learned how to shed the labels others put on me. Heteronormative society is not entitled to my life. I frequently look at photos of myself in my youth and ask them for forgiveness. I am sorry for being so unkind to a soul who did not understand who they were. Who does at a young age? I am sorry for allowing society to meddle in who I was. I forgive myself for lacking confidence and allowing others to take advantage of me. I forgive myself for thinking I had to offer my love to people who could not keep me safe.
Eleven months after Jackie’s death, my friend Ivette, a Black trans woman, was murdered during an act of trans violence. I was only six years old and had already suffered two tremendous losses. Jackie’s death was like a gut punch, but it was easier to understand than Ivette’s murder. I did not comprehend why anyone would want to hurt Ivette for being trans. I am vehemently against the gay/trans panic defense. My mother attempted to explain both deaths to me in the best way she knew how. Fortunately, my mother was my first teacher. She taught me that people should be able to exist authentically without fear that their lives will be cut short.
I was two years old when I realized I was unique. I began examining the meaning of life. I was excited to navigate the intricacies of an unpredictable existence. If I could talk to my younger self, I would tell them they are doing an incredible job navigating a society not constructed with people like me in mind. The LGBTQ+ community has not always been kind, either. The internalized homophobia that so many Queer people harbor is harmful. This society terrorizes people who are content with who they are and unapologetic about it. My skin is my armor. My gender-bending temple shelters me from a world that attempts to steal my joy.
Following Ivette’s murder, I promised myself and the Black trans community that I would do everything possible to fight for trans lives. Jackie and Ivette were the first humans outside my mother who taught me how to live freely and authentically. Pride is not about defining my identity to educate others. Pride is not about ‘coming out’ for people who cannot see beyond the binary. Pride is not above rainbows. Pride is not about proving to society for 30 days how to love louder. Pride is about the radical joy that grows within me every day I get to exist in my skin. Pride is about the freedom to express my identity in the most extravagant ways. Pride is about allowing myself to feel.
My identity is ever (trans)muting into a reality that allows me to feel whole. I feel privileged to be able to say that. I am excited about who I am becoming. I am proud of how much abundance and love I project into the world. I have not always benefitted from a supportive family, but family can also be chosen. I have a tribe I must thank for who I am today. Many people died fighting for what I have. I have lost many trans siblings over the trajectory of my life. My existence is a testament to those who sacrificed their lives for the right to be free. Free from criticism. Free from hate. Free from violence. I must thank Jackie and Ivette for having an everlasting impact on how I navigate the world. They are my Angels.
Trans people are my family. There is no other way to define what the trans community means to me. I promised Jackie and Ivette that I would do everything I could to defend trans rights. I was just a small child when I made that promise to the universe. I did not always get it right. It required decades to foster the courage to stand firm in who I am. I have lived longer than Jackie and Ivette ever had the chance to. I live for them, too, because I know they are watching. I fight for the countless other Black trans women who, unlike me, do not feel safe in their bodies. I am here because they existed. I hope Queer children can regard my life as a testament to a future full of possibilities.
On June 6, 2023, the Human Rights Campaign issued its first-ever ‘State of Emergency’ to ensure safety for LGBTQ+ residents and travelers. Society often intimidates Queer people into repression. I refuse for my life to be a script produced by the oppressor. My identity will consistently be shades of grey. Constantly shifting into a person I get to meet every time I evolve. I know who I am better than anyone will ever know me. I am aberrant; therefore, I will always be free. Jackie and Ivette unapologetically lived free and died young. They epitomized what it was like to soar. My freedom is for them. I will never stop dreaming of all the days they will not see.
Pa’lante!