Today (11/20) is Trans Day of Remembrance. This year in the United States, we remember at least 32 transgender people who were murdered, with over 4/5th of them being trans women and 85% of them people of color. [1] Something else I am reflecting on today is how immense the contributions of trans* people have been and continue to be in our culture. From the Black drag queens who modeled the original chosen families, to the movement leaders today who continue to use their unique experiences to direct our energy as change-makers, alternative and organizing spaces would not be what they are today without trans and nonbinary people. Today I honor the trans people who were lost, and celebrate those who are living.

Let no one think of us as sidelined, awkward, lost souls; trans people are leaders at the very heart of revolutionary movements.  Many of the folks in our community are trans* (the star indicates the inclusion of non-binary folks). One of our beloved community members who passed away last week was trans. One of the beautiful things about Emmanuel Church and Central Reform Temple is how welcoming we are to the queer community, from the weekly Thursday-afternoon lunch with older gay men to the many lesbian couples present amongst the parish or at Shabbat services. I would say that overall, though, trans people are so far less represented, likely due to an age skew towards a generation which was not afforded the same access to gender as mine does. Many folks in the community seem to be encountering alternative gender pronouns for the first time when I introduce myself.

So what do all trans people have in common? We transitioned. There is a before and after, whether that is from one biological identity to another, or from one experience of a gender to a non-binary one, with as many different stories and experiences as there are human intricacies and complexities in between. We also, overwhelmingly, have histories of trauma, abuse, marginalization, and rejection. We overwhelmingly find support and strength in the formation of chosen family.

We understand what it means to have a “before” life, a younger self who, for all intents and purposes, is no longer here. I sometimes think about my younger self and reflect, “I love her, but she’s gone.” Something you might hear a trans* person say when asked about previous versions of themselves is, “I don’t like to talk about before.” Since I mostly navigate queer and queer-informed spaces at this point, I take for granted all of our unspoken agreements: never assume pronouns, don’t ask about dead names or younger-self pictures, and generally speaking, don’t ask too many personal questions. Let people reveal themselves in time as it feels right to them. Certainly, don’t make them responsible for educating you on pronoun use or other curiosities you may have on gender and sexuality.

We understand splitting. We understand what it means to have a part of your life be so painful that you chose to hide and find respite in other parts of yourself, parts that are still whole and undamaged, maybe parts of yourself that never had a right to exist growing up. Personally, I remember feeling as surprised as the rest of my community when I reclaimed the “masculine” aspects of myself that had simply never existed growing up. This time of my life was the most profound of my existence. It was an experience of encounter with the Holy Spirit, to use Christian terminology; it was a meeting with my Higher Self. It was this Spirit that showed me the way, showed me who I was, helped me reclaim parts of my soul that had long been socialized out of me. I so wish religiously-minded folks in the USA would realize that to deny me the truth of my trans* experience is also to deny me my relationship with God.

So today, I honor the dead, celebrate the living, and extend warmth and solidarity to the trans* members of our community. Thank you for being here, and thank you for being you. It is an honor to work and live alongside you.

—EAS