TDOR

I have been asked to participate in the University of Michigan's/Ann Arbor's observance ceremonies for the Transgender Day of Remembrance each of the past three years (see 2005 and 2004).

Each year, I enter a deep depression as I reflect on the lives lost in senseless violence (can violence ever be sensible?).  And, I wrack my brain for something new to say. I want to just say "STOP IT!", but of course that's almost as senseless. Very few people show up to these events, indeed usually only those who know or are somehow touched by a transgendered individual or trans-related violence. So, I end up preaching to the choir, as they say.

In a very real sense we can never end this violence until we address some of the underlying causes of it.  Until we, as a society, deal with people who beat their boys to death in an attempt to toughen them up -- and I don't mean deal with them by sending them to prison, I mean deal with them by changing our system of values such that people don't hold the "tough guy" image as something to aspire to. That, too, is gender-based violence. Until we find a way to instill in our girls the self-esteem that comes from the certain knowledge that they are valued for who they are and not how "pretty" or how thin they are.  That, too, is gender-based violence. 

All the speechifying in the world will make little to no difference in the actual violence endured by trans-people.  That is not to say that holding these ceremonies and giving these speeches isn't important.  To the extent that we raise the consciousness of even a handful of people, it's time well spent.

The text of my short talk this year is below the fold.  I wish I had more time; there is so much more I want to say.  If you're in the Ann Arbor area, and you're not glued to the Game of the Century, please come by the Rackham School at 6 PM and pay your respects.  A reception will follow the program.

     REMEMBERING STRENGTH

Even before we are born, we are divided into pink and blue. Yellow and green are temporarily permitted, but any gender ambiguity -- even in a tiny bald baby -- is resolved as soon as possible. So we start our lives, pink or blue, and our names, our clothes, our hair, our toys, and everything we see and hear reinforces that we are pink or blue, as clear and permanent as anything can be.

But what if, as you grow up and become aware of what pink is, and what blue is, you discover you aren’t pink, or aren’t blue? What if you feel inside that who other people think you are, and what you have been told you are, is not who you are? Would you have the strength to say to yourself, I will be who I am, not who they want me to be? Would you have the strength to stand up to all the pressure of your family, your friends, and your community to conform to their gender norms, and instead express yourself as the differently gendered person you know yourself to be? Would you have the strength to risk losing your family, your friends, your job -- even to risk your own life -- so that you can live it honestly?

Those of us who have done so have all lost something. When I transitioned from David to Denise, I lost a wife, a daughter, a home, and my job (in fact, several jobs). Others of you have also lost relationships and opportunities as a result of your transgression of gender norms. But thankfully, unlike those we are here to honor today, we still have our lives. We are here to remember those who risked everything and lost everything – they died at the hands of those who cannot see us as people; who cannot see us as human beings just trying to live our lives the best way we can.

This past year, we’ve added another group of names to our list – the list of the dead in this particular undeclared war. One such name was Alexis King, who died in February of this year in Nicetown, Pennsylvania at the age of 21. She was born Brandon King, but knew she could not live that way. It must have taken a tremendous amount of strength for her to resist the pressure in high school to just go on as Brandon, but she chose instead to be true to herself. She dropped out of high school and began living as Alexis. Unfortunately, it is very difficult for transgendered persons to find employment – a recent study in San Francisco indicated that only 1 in 4 was able to find a full time job, and only a few of those were significantly above minimum wage -- so many turn to the streets, as Alexis did.

Her life as a woman was hard, and brief. She was shot by an 18-year-old customer who became angry when he learned that he had hired “a cross-dressing man” for sex, as the police described it. A precious life taken, like so many, because she did not conform to society’s gender rules.

We need to remember her strength, and those of others who suffered and died due to nonconformity to gender rules, by encouraging all of our friends and allies to do several simple things: 1) stand up to hate speech; 2) help make safe spaces for those whose gender expression puts them at risk; and 3) lobby for nondiscrimination based on gender identity or expression, starting with the Regents at this University.

I don’t want you to think, however, that I feel transgendered people uniquely suffer from social injustice, or are uniquely entitled to protection. Every person who is the victim of discrimination or violence, whether it be due to gender identity, race, religion, or any other reason, is worthy of our concern, and all deserve acceptance, respect and protection.

We will not succeed in achieving a safe world for transgendered people until society as a whole stops fearing those who are perceived as different, and learns what it truly means to celebrate diversity. When we begin judging others not by their appearance, but by the content of their character, as Martin Luther King, Jr. put it, then we will be truly free to be who we are, whether pink, blue, or any of the colors of the rainbow.