By Justine Gonzalez, EQCA program associate
On March 31, the world will observe Transgender Day of Visibility. The meaning and importance of visibility is not static. It changes with us, on our journeys as individuals and as a community. People take all sorts of journeys throughout life. For transgender people, our gender journey can be one of many, but it is often one of the most visible to our friends and family.
During the summer of 2014, I made one of the most difficult decisions of my life: to come out as transgender. I asked my friends, family, and colleagues to refer to me as JC (my then-first and middle initials). I was serving as an aide in Los Angeles City Hall, a place with many visible LGBT leaders – our City had elected three gay men to office just the year before. In this environment, some may be curious as to why coming out as transgender was a difficult decision. I even asked myself that question as I considered coming out.
Part of my work in City Hall was serving as the Mayor’s LGBT Liaison. I lived out as bisexual, and made sure to be on top of most, if not all, critical issues facing our communities. Every day, I read reports of the challenges facing the transgender community. I understood, at least intellectually, the risks transgender people take every day they decide to walk outside closer to their true and authentic selves.
Transgender women face an alarming rate of violence, at the hands of people they love and strangers in the street. We face discrimination when searching for employment and housing. And yes, we face discrimination when searching for a bathroom.
As a parent to a one-year-old girl, I was even more afraid to risk the physical and economic security of my family. The threat of facing discrimination, humiliation, and violence, and the potential for my family to witness any of it looms over my head every day, as it does for so many others. But if I have learned anything since then, it’s that J
The happiness I feel when my daughter calls me mama, when my co-parent says she loves me, when my mom says she is proud of me, is matched only when someone thanks me for my commitment and service. It is a happiness I am committed to sharing, and it’s a happiness worth fighting for – not only for myself, but for every transgender person.
Living out and visible is my way of telling the world that our happiness is worth the fight. That transgender students deserve access to restrooms without having to take a fight to the Supreme Court. That transgender people deserve to walk down the street without harassment and threat of violence. That we are all people who deserve dignity, respect, and access to opportunity.
I am, and forever will be, thankful to those who inspired me with their visibility and courage, and to those who continue that journey.