The Power of Presence: Why I Choose Visibility in a Season of Shadows

Today is the Transgender Day of Visibility, a day born from a need to celebrate resilience and progress. But I must be honest: this year, the air feels so much heavier. As I look at the world around me, I am filled with a profound sense of anger and frustration. I find myself asking: where is the civility? Where is the humanity, the compassion, and the grace that should bind us together as children of the Divine?

We are living through unprecedented times. My community—a mere 1% of the population—is continually being hauled out to be publicly flogged in the town square for partisan political gain and to deflect attention from the real issues of the day that affect every single one of us. We are being used as a proverbial punching bag by those who fear our existence and seek nothing less than our total erasure.

The War on Our Existence
It is difficult to grasp what passes for “governance” today. We are witnessing a relentless bombardment of hate-filled executive orders and state-sponsored bills—literally hundreds of them—aimed at dismantling our right to fair treatment in every facet of life.

• In Idaho, we see the state pushing extreme measures like House Bill 752, which seeks to criminalize my very presence in public spaces by threatening a felony charge and up to five years in prison for simply using a bathroom that aligns with who we are.
• In Kansas, the state has moved to invalidate and revoke driver’s licenses that reflect our true identities, forcing us to carry documents that mark us as “other” and effectively “outing” us every time we try to rent a car, vote, or check into a hotel.
• Even at the highest level, the Supreme Court has signaled a dangerous willingness to let these attacks stand, recently allowing Idaho to enforce a ban on essential healthcare and signaling that our fundamental protections are on the chopping block.

I am tired of the false narratives and outright lies.

I am tired of being singled out and silenced because I somehow look “different.”

I am tired of being treated as an “ideology” rather than a human being.

They do not know me, and they will never know me because they choose not to. I used to say, “Give me ten minutes, and I can show you how much humanity we share, and that we are not all that different from one another.” But I just don’t think that will work anymore, as those who chose to hate are simply not interested in having that conversation.

Why I Stand Defiant
In the face of this vitriol and this ignorance, I am choosing defiance.

For four and a half decades, I lived in the shadows of shame, guilt, and denial. I know what it is like to hide just to survive. But I also know the power of taking that leap into the unknown and finding a bridge of radical hospitality and love on the other side.

They will never take that away from me.

Visibility is no longer just a choice; it is a necessity. I tell those who hate me, and those who love me, that I am not going away. I am a thread in the fabric of this community—I am your neighbor, your friend, your sibling, and your colleague. If you cut me, I bleed; my heart beats just like yours. My life and my journey are real and valid.

The Final Word: A Choice of Light
To our allies: we need your light now more than ever. You may not walk in my shoes, but you can stand beside me in solidarity. It takes courage to be vulnerable—to admit there is more to learn—but creating that space is how the soul is enriched. Your actions and your words of support are like the pebbles tossed into a still pond; the ripples they create can touch minds and hearts far wider than you imagine.

We are all charged with leaving this world better than we found it. We all possess the virtues to do so: our faith, our values, our integrity, and our grace.

They are our True North.

They may try to legislate us out of bathrooms, off of IDs, and out of the public square, but they cannot legislate the Divine out of my soul. They cannot draft a bill that undoes the truth of who I am. I will continue to shine my light, for a city built on a hill can never be hidden.

I am here. I am visible. I am a child of God—and I will NEVER be erased.