I have never fit the mold created by gender. I have always been incredibly androgynous by nature. I have also always known exactly who I am, allowing me to navigate every day as a checkpoint in my development. I believe in living life with no boundaries, so it is easy for me to constantly expand my perspectives of gender and sexual identity as I collect new experiences. This combination of confidence and dedication to myself makes it rare for people to not accept me at face value. People tend to feel innately comforted by my authentic energy. Although I have encountered prejudice, I understand that prejudice stems from and is taught from ignorance and fear of the unknown. By remaining confident in myself and patient with people, I am able to educate, enlighten, and inspire others to broaden their perspectives.
I believe that survival in this world is dependent on one’s ability to connect with oneself — especially as a queer individual. We live in a society that thrives on division and brainwashes us to believe that individuality equals division. People spend most of their lives trying to conform to one construct or another that has been provided to them by some external stimulus. This often leads people to feel lost and alone as they wander through their experiences. When we feel safe enough to explore and express our authentic truths, it allows for us to achieve our greatest potentials.
To be queer is to make a commitment to love and embrace yourself no matter what. There are people who still believe that the answer to hate is to hide in the shadows, but being visible and being counted means being out, loud, and proud.
My name is Latasha and I am a queer leatherwoman of color. I knew at an early age that I was attracted to girls but I was also attracted to boys. As I got older, I navigated more toward the lesbian side of the LGBTQI spectrum. Being a queer POC woman in my current social setting has its ups and downs. Cisgender gay men want to label me as “lesbian” because I am attracted to both men and women. But I don’t consider myself bi or pan. Being an out queer POC helps other queer POC persons know that they are not just accepted in certain spaces but wanted.
Being my authentic self is extremely important, as I live an open life. I feel that if you can’t be truthful to yourself about who you really are, you definitely can’t live a happy authentic life publicly. Being able to live your truth, whatever that may be, is important in today’s society so that you can stand up for yourself and others. Sadly, for some being out is not an option.
Being visible and being counted is a subcategory of being authentic in my opinion. Being visible is the outreach, the footwork, the educational opportunities for us to teach and guide those who feel that they are alone or that they can’t live their truth for fear of social rejection. Being both visible and counted is important in our society.
With the increase of visibility of the trans community, many individuals are now able to transition in their teens and twenties. I was thirty-five. While that may not seem particularly old, to completely change my life when I was pushing forty presented many obstacles. It was daunting, it was scary, but it was necessary.
I was fortunate that I worked for a Fortune 500 company that offered great benefits and was very inclusive. A couple months after beginning my transition, I began a new position at the same company, and I was able to go into that position as my authentic self. While I hadn’t had my name legally changed yet, it was relatively easy to go in, introduce myself as Jace, and not have anyone bat an eye.
As far as work, I recognize that I am extremely privileged. Transitioning a little later in life meant that I was established in my employment. Within five months of beginning my transition, my insurance took care of both my hysterectomy and top surgery. I was able to have my birth certificate amended and obtain a new passport in two years’ time.
I was also fortunate that in my personal life, I was supported. I had a large circle of friends, many of whom were trans. When my relationship fell apart, I knew I had a strong support system. My family took my transition well, making the immediate effort to use the correct name and pronoun.
I spent the majority of my life being inauthentic, struggling with depression, being unable to really connect with anyone on a truly intimate level. My decision to transition finally came after a six-month bout of extreme depression that affected my relationship, my work, everything. Saying the words “I think I need to see a therapist about transitioning” took such a massive weight off my shoulders. In that instant I felt more free than I had ever felt. However, as the months went by and the pieces of my transition mostly fell into place without too much resistance, I began to feel an extreme guilt, because it was so easy. So I made the decision to use my privilege to educate, to inform, to teach. I chose early on to not live “stealth,” so that my being visible might help or inspire others to live as their authentic selves. Also, because I am familiar with the process of dealing with court and insurance issues, I am able to pass that information on to others to help make their transitioning processes smoother and less intimidating.
Today I am out and proud, and I continue to be visible. It’s important that we are seen and that we are seen as “regular” people. The transgender community is just like everyone else. We are parents, brothers, sisters, doctors, lawyers, teachers. We are here.
The intersections of race, ethnicity, and gender identity can be complex. I have often wondered whether my Blackness somehow invalidates my transgender identity and vice versa. The two don’t seem to mix oftentimes, as we rarely see Black transgender men, especially those with darker skin, in the forefront of any media presence. I am very aware of my Blackness and in some cases, I am very aware of my transgender modifier. There are times that I don’t feel transgender enough because I can “pass” for cisgender, thanks to more than a decade of hormone-replacement therapy and surgery. There are times that I don’t feel Black enough, because I’m not as connected to the Black community in Phoenix as I would like to be.
Despite my feelings of insecurity, being authentic is everything to me. I strive to be proud of all the things that make up who I am. Brother, partner, corporate worker bee, transgender, and Black. Being authentic means learning to love who and what you are in addition to being able to show yourself to others.
Being visible and being counted is essential to our survival as LGBTQ+ people of color. People’s minds and hearts change simply from being able to put a familiar face to one of the LGBTQ+ letters. It is so important that our stories be heard and felt. The more visible we are, the more opportunities others have to see how alike we are. Finding those kinships is what bonds us together, and those bonds are what enable us to build and maintain strong communities.
I have been transitioning for 5 years so I am very “cis passing” in my environment. For me, it is amazing to have that validation, but at the same time it makes be feel like I am hiding. I try to be outspoken and open if it serves a purpose in that environment. I noticed that people treat me differently since transitioning – I am a white, male passing 30 year old. But really I am a transgender Jewish, pansexual man. I see that people talk to me differently, listen to me differently, and interact with me differently. Even people I have known for years unknowingly treat me differently; like my opinion somehow matters more now then when I was female identified. I notice my privilege and am aware of it. I think that helps to ensure I don’t lose myself to my new found privilege.
Authenticity does not mean openness, though. You can be stealth as a transgender individual and still be authentic. Authenticity to me means being you, unapologetically. I strive to be authentic in every aspect of the word. Authenticity means something different to me at the beginning stages of my transition to now. Being a “passing male” was what made me authentic at the beginning. Being a man of integrity, love, compassion, and strength is what makes me authentic now and what I strive for now that I have become more comfortable in my body.
Again, being visible isn’t a goal for everyone in the transgender community. For me, I am visible for those that can’t be. Some of our community deal with the risk of losing their jobs, their homes, and their lives to being visible; I am aware of my ability to assimilate so I feel that I need to be visible and be counted so that people can meet one of us to know that we aren’t scary and that our lives have value. Being visible and being counted means that we do exist – we are your neighbors, your friends, your coworkers, your family. We aren’t making this up. We aren’t deviants or fetishes. We are real people trying to make sense of this world just like everyone else. We exist, and we’re not going anywhere.
Tell us your experience as a transwoman in your environment – work as well as social settings:
At first it wasn’t the easiest. Mostly because of my own thoughts and feelings about what people may think say or do. Then eventually I just realized that this is for me, my happiness and no one else’s. Once I let my whole walls of defense down, my eyes were able to open and see the true picture around me. Everyone wants and needs to be loved, and sometimes some people may not understand your need for this, but it’s not for them. Now I can say I feel comfortable in my work life and social settings. I think it’s also important to point out, that by surrounding yourself with positive people who love you is truly important.
How important for you to be authentic?
It’s a necessity, it’s a must. I have lived a lie for many years before being honest about my authentic self. It’s liberating, but also required in order to live my life to my fullest potential. At the end of the day that is all I can dream and pray for.
What does it mean to be visible and be counted?
Visibility to me, means breaking down the barriers that block us from each other. It means standing up even if your friends are too afraid. Visibility is more than just being “Visible” it’s an action something you strive to do, not be.
Being a transgender male, I have had individuals look up my birth name, out me, fetishize me, talk about my genitals, unfriend me, talk down to me, misgender me, talk about my chest, I have been pushed out of jobs, others have disregard myself and my partner the list goes on and on. So for me being a transgender male and first and foremost a human has been challenging. My need for connection has always been there. My life has taken various twists and turns, lenses and lessons. Above everything I have learned that honesty, kindness and grace will make the most impactful moves. Hate always has consequences, some you don’t even see. Loving who I am, everyday, and allowing myself to show up for all marginalized individuals because I am with them. Speaking up for women, people of color, being open and honest about my experiences and continuously learning is how I stay active and visible. In doing so I show I am resilient.