Being trans is a never-ending exercise in choosing yourself over the limitations of society. It is not lost on me that this International Trans Day of Visibility comes at a time when our heightened visibility is married with physical and institutional violence and the revoking of vital health care for trans people not just in America but all over the world.
I grew up in Boston, Massachusetts—left-leaning on paper but puritanical in practice. New England is just the Junior Velasquez remix of England—might I remind you it was the home of the Salem witch trials! Hello! Not a slay! My father is a Baptist minister so I refer to myself as God’s Karma. “You want to preach about love and acceptance?” Well here is your test, diva!
Growing up, I always knew my spirit was divinely feminine, but trans representation was non-existent in my orbit. We often talk about generational trauma, but one overlooked facet of the conversation is generational fear, and sadly, my upbringing was plagued with it. It made me believe I could only succeed if I became invisible- and one day, I would slither to freedom. And I did! I moved to London at 18 to attend Central Saint Martins, I met my chosen family—but that same fear followed me across the pond and wouldn’t leave me alone, stifling me from fully blooming.
Never in my life did I think I would begin my transition in my hometown, but life is always doing some funny shit! When my visa expired in 2020 I had to move back to Boston, the place responsible for making me small. The year before I began medically transitioning was one of the lowest times in my life—my depression was unfathomable, my dysphoria was so disruptive that I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror—think Mulan as she is belting down “Reflection,” but the Christina Aguilera version. When we say gender-affirming care is life-saving, we are not exaggerating!
Transitioning is an act of self-love. It is saying: “The world may not see me, but I will never neglect myself again.” Navigating this journey has made me realize I am more powerful than I could ever have imagined. Chile, these are spooky times, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t crashing out more than usual. I am a 6’1” Black trans woman, I am always visible! Truthfully I am scared right now, however, our opps want us to cave, and I’ll be damned if I let them win.
Right now, it’s imperative that we actually protect trans kids by advocating for them, reminding them they are loved, and affirming to them that they are valid. To the young trans children I would say: You are the future supremes. It is hard to have perspective when you are young and decisions are being made without your consent but we are fighting for you. Remember, no one will ever have the power to strip you of your ability to dream.
For my cousins in the alphabet acronym, it is so imperative that you are protecting trans people- especially Black trans women who have historically been disproportionately affected by violence, job discrimination, homelessness, and transphobia. For the self-identified allies—who feel most “free” in the gay clubs and who’ve loved Pose and have co-opted the vernacular of Black trans women—now is a good time to really commit to showing up as an ally in all facets of life!
When I think of trans visibility, I think of the fab girls who are inspiring me and changing the world with their art like Quay Dash, Aariana Rose Philip, Cortisa Star, Memphy, and Zora, to name a few. I feel immense gratitude for the legacy created by the iconic Black trans women who came before me and broke down barriers in my industry like Connie Fleming and Tracy Norman.
In Kristen Lovell and Zackary Drucker’s 2023 documentary, The Stroll, which recounts the history of Black trans sex workers in the Meatpacking District, one of the stars, Nicole, fervidly reminds us, “Even in your depression. You owe it to every trans woman before you and everyone after you to keep moving and keep pushing.” In these harrowing times, I channel the strength of the trans women who came before me, who fought for our rights, and who have made it possible for me to live the life I am living today. It is my responsibility to make this world a more beautiful, loving place for this generation after me.
To the dolls: You are seen, you are loved, you are everything!
Trey is a writer and model based in Boston.