Telling my story.

From a keynote that I delivered at the Museum of Public Relations’ Pride Month event, “The LGBTQ Experience in Public Relations: Visibly Proud.”

That’s how it all began for me after becoming the first transgender person to successfully transition in the 160-year history of New York Life Insurance Company back in 2005.

It is quite simply the through line to everything related to the journey to my authentic self – to the person that I’ve always known myself to be.

In the lead up to my coming out, for every person that I shared my true self with, I did so by telling a story in the hope of making who I am as accessible as I could to their unknowing ears.  I did so somewhat naively, not knowing how it would land, despite my attempts at fashioning it as authentically as I could.

It’s the only way I knew how.

For my entire life, telling a story had always been my default mode of communication.  It’s what I always did – most of the time without even thinking.  It was how I pursued a human connection – how I went about getting people to like me – and hopefully, not see the real me hidden behind the façade of maleness I was desperately trying to keep in place.

Telling my story helped me hide the real me from everyone around me.  All of those stories – mostly real, and some – I must admit – that were fabricated for the time, the place, and the audience – all seemed to work at keeping my deep, dark secret from the world through four-plus decades of shame guilt and denial.

So, it should come as a bit of a surprise that when it came time for me to give back, to pay it forward, I wasn’t sure how to go about it.  While I was quick to point out to the HR VP’s at New York Life that “I may be the first, but I won’t be the last,” I had no idea about how I would go about creating a path for others to follow.

What perhaps I didn’t fully realize in that moment was that I was taking on a responsibility to do everything I could to make it easier for those who were to come after me – whether they be at my company, or at any other.

It would require me to create space on my shoulders for those who would follow me, just as I stood on the shoulders of my trans sisters who came before me.  People like Maggie Stumpp who, as an executive at Prudential, had come out a year or so before I did.  Her story – and how it was spread through the media of that time – gave me the courage I needed to overcome my fears and pursue my dream.  I felt a strong desire within myself to do the same, but I was at a loss as to how.

I struggled with what it was that I could bring to the trans inclusion conversation.  What was my angle, how could I best position myself to be heard amidst what seemed like a cacophony of much more compelling voices.

But then, through perhaps more than a little divine intervention, I received two particularly important pieces of advice that taken together formed a seminal moment for me.

The first came from a friend of mine who at the time was a leader at a national LGBTQ organization.  In responding to my question “but is there room in the sandbox for me?” he said quite pointedly “Stephanie, it’s not a sandbox, it’s more like a beach!”  And the second came from another transwoman who had already achieved some measure of notoriety with a book of her own, who said to me “all you have to do is tell your story.”

These honest and authentic answers instantaneously impacted me.  Suddenly I realized that my own story – however mundane and run-of-the-mill it may have seemed to me, wasn’t mundane or run-of-the mill at all.  And, that there was a place for it in the ever-expanding constellation of voices that were already out there calling for equality and inclusion for all transgender people.

What I have learned every day since is that there is immense power in our stories.

They truly can change hearts and minds.  It is the connective tissue that binds us together as human beings, because they have the unique ability to tap into our shared humanity – and it is precisely this shared humanity that is our greatest common denominator.

But it is not just the stories of other LGBTQ individuals that add to this collective voice, it is also the stories of our allies.  Those that stand in solidarity with us and urge others to join our fight to be heard.  They are equally, if not more important, than our own.  Their stories of love and support for the LGBTQ people in their lives creates space for others to step up and do the same.

For the last seven years I have been privileged to serve on the board of PFLAG National and have witnessed firsthand the incredible power that a parents’ love for their LGBTQ child can create.

It’s as if we were all standing on the shore of a mountain lake . . .


And that’s where each one of you here today come in.  By amplifying our stories – and those of our allies – you are creating even more ripples.  And make no mistake, each one of those ripples contributes to the movement – to the greater good.  By proudly proclaiming your support and allyship you are sending a powerful message to your employees, clients, business partners and customers that equality for all people is a major priority.

But the question I put before you is this:  are you – and the company that you represent – and ally with a capital “A” or an ally with a small “a?”  Capital A allies are visible, engaged in our history and our issues, and embrace teaching moments when they encounter them.  Small a allies just talk a good game and wave their pride flags for the month of June and then put them back in their desk drawer for the other eleven months of the year.  They acquiesce when conflict arises, and they shy away rather than lean into the difficult conversation.

Make no mistake, we are at an inflection point for the LGBTQ community – and in particular the transgender community.  We need all the capital A allies we can get, because we cannot fight this battle for equality and inclusion alone.

Our very authenticity is under attack.  While this has certainly happened before – think North Carolina’s bathroom bill in 2016 – it has now taken on a particularly hate-filled and hurtful turn.  The opposition has taken direct aim on the most vulnerable of my community – trans kids and trans athletes, many of whom are of middle school and high school ages. At last count, some 37 bills have been introduced across 20 state legislatures, and in nine states these have been signed into law banning transgender girls and women from participating in school sports consistent with their gender identity.  The latest happened at the very beginning of Pride Month – on June 1st to be exact – in Florida – and as you all well know that timing was not by accident!

But trans youth are fighting back by living their truth – and telling their stories.  Voices like Stella Keating, who bravely testified before the Senate on behalf of the Equality Act, are sharing their challenges, their hopes, and their fears so that society can get an honest picture of what it is like to be a young trans person in today’s America. They are courageous, they are brave, they are resilient.  They are my heroes.

And that is why, among other things, I decided to write my book. I am proud to share my stories with the world in the hope that it can raise up the many in my community that feel they do not have a voice, for they all have a right and a need to be heard.  And that’s why I think it is right for precisely this moment in time that the transgender community finds itself in.

One of the key post-transition themes that I write about is around my experience with white male privilege.  For 25 years of my corporate life, I had it and didn’t think much of it.  But when I made the decision to embrace my true self and live my life authentically, it vanished in an instant.   All that power that I possessed throughout my climb up the corporate ladder was gone.  And its loss cut like a knife.

Many of you possess great privilege – I’m speaking directly to the straight and gay white males in the room.  How are you going to use this to fight for equality for underrepresented communities like mine?  We need you.  And to be clear, it is not a zero-sum game.  Share your knowledge.  Share your value.  Share your network.  Share your own story.  Because as you lift us up, you elevate the entire LGBTQ community in the process.

In closing, I ask each of you here to consider these questions:

-What is your responsibility as public relations and communications professionals, to amplify these voices and raise up these conversations?

-What will you do to mirror the courageousness of my younger trans siblings in combating the onslaught of misinformation and disinformation designed to eradicate their existence?

-What will you do shape the narrative around equality and inclusion for not just the transgender and non-binary community, but for LGBTQ persons everywhere within your cultures and within your community?

I ask each of you, what will be YOUR story?


Thank You Very Much and enjoy the panels!




The Trans Experience in the U.S. with Gennifer Herley and Stephanie Battaglino

Dr. Gennifer Herley PhD., Founder and Executive Director of TransNewYork and Stephanie Battaglino, Founder and Owner of Follow Your Heart, LLC, join Fabrice Houdart to talk about the various lived experiences for transgender people in America.

Joe Biden needs to push the Equality Act through in his first 100 days as President

Despite our victory in the Supreme Court last year in the Title VII cases (Rest in peace, Aimee Stephens), the only clear path to true workplace equality for transgender and gender non-conforming people is the passage of the Equality Act. The long and far-too-winding road that was the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA) needs to come to an end. Our President-elect has pledged to make this a top priority at the outset of his administration, and we need to hold him to that. To be sure, there is much that needs to be addressed in our nation, but that said, this cannot – and will not – be left behind.  Read more



A Reason for Hope

In any other year, in any other decade, in any other century you might not necessarily need to have a reason for hope.  In the “before times,” pre-COVID that is, hope flowed freely throughout the world.  It swirled and danced around the globe unfettered, just waiting for someone, somewhere to latch on to it.  The touch points are as varied as there are humans on this earth:  hope for a new job, hope for an uneventful pregnancy, hope for admission to college, hope for a loved one who is waiting on positive test results from their doctor.  You can insert your own here.  I know I certainly can.

But then 2020 arrived and as the year unfurled it became very apparent that this year would be like no other we have ever experienced.  Too many lives lost, too many dreams shattered.  Far too much suffering inflicted upon our world.  Our collective psyche has taken quite a beating.  Tears come so very easily to me now.  The truth is, I’ve cried at enough corny television commercials to know that I wear my emotions on my sleeve, but nothing like what this year has wrought.  My emotions are closer to the surface than they have ever been in my life.

I have lost a brother, a mother-in-law, a brother-in-law, and a very dear friend this year.  None of their deaths had anything to do with the pandemic, but the pandemic played a role in each of them, crushing my grieving process.  I could not travel to whatever highly restricted and stripped-down funeral services took place, leaving me to process the loss of these lights in my life alone in my own space and time.  Their passing has caused me to look at my life and my own mortality in a vastly different light.  Collectively, they have shaken my foundation of hope and left me muttering to myself “why.”

Perhaps you have seen Google’s “Year in Search” video.   It turns out the number one search word for all of 2020 was “Why.”  Not very surprising with the year we’ve had to endure.  So much struggle, anguish, hate – are you listening J.K. Rowling and Tucker Carlson? – and needless loss of life.  A country divided.  Far too many of my trans and black brothers and sisters killed – again and again.  We all know their names – George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade and countless others.  So many radiant points of light extinguished, and life stories left untold.  Yes, Black Lives DO Matter and so DO Black Trans Lives.

When the “Why” casts such a shadow over us and looms so incredibly large over our world, how can the light of hope possibly break through?   What do we do when “Why” has disassembled our world and repeatedly beaten us down to the point where we have nothing left to give emotionally?

Perhaps where we need to start is by turning “Why” inside out.  Transforming the riddle that has been 2020 into a message of Hope for 2021.

Why . . . can’t we . . .?

Why . . . shouldn’t we . . .?

Why . . . of course we can!

It begins by creating space for hope in our lives.  It’s already there, waiting to be embraced, even in the direst of circumstances.  We just need to have enough faith to believe that its presence exists among us.   Because it does.  I think it has something to do with gratitude and embracing those things – whatever they may be – that bring you joy.

Hope is divine.  Hope is healing.  Hope gives each of us the energy to face another day and then another one after that.  Hope keeps despair from creeping into our consciousness.

And for many of us, that’s as good a place as any to begin.  One day at a time.  One foot in front of the other.  Hope creates the path forward where none had existed before.  And most importantly, hope can help us turn the page on a year we just as soon forget.

Wishing each of you a Safe, Healthy and Happy New Year!

Cool People with Katie Neeves

It was a real pleasure getting to spend some time with a fellow trailblazer, Katie Neeves, Trans Ambassador (She/her)!! Thank you so very much for having me on, my sister!