Transgender Day of Remembrance: Finding Courage in Our History

When I think of queer history, I think of transgender trailblazers. I think of those who led the charge at Stonewall, who fought through the HIV/AIDS crisis, who became our elders and fought for civil unions, marriage, and for queer families.

There is a lot happening in the world around us, and I admit that it can be overwhelming, but remembering the work of those who came before us is what grounds me in this moment, in my commitment to you, to us.

When I think of remembrance, I recall being young and not seeing much of a life for myself. I remember being unsure of my gender, my sexuality, and many other things.

What kid is fully sure of anything when they lack the knowledge, the vocabulary, and the support they need to understand themselves?

I remember the weight of uncertainty, the fear that silenced me when I didn’t know how to speak up for myself. So, how could I speak up for others? Would I ever learn?

I didn’t believe I was brave. I didn’t believe I was strong. I didn’t believe I was gay. I didn’t believe I was transgender. I didn’t believe in myself, what I wanted to do, or what I was capable of. I didn’t believe that I mattered, that I had purpose, that life would get better.

Hell, I didn’t believe in much of anything at all.

For a long time, I fought to ignore the kid inside me, the one who was desperate to be free, expressive, kind, caring, and bold. The kid who knew exactly who they were.

The kid who wanted to live with love at the center of everything they do, of everything they create. The kid who wanted to love themself, and to have love be who they are, not just something they gave and continue to give.

Transgender Day of Remembrance reminds me that my transness, my queerness, is a privilege, an honor, a joy.

Transgender Day of Remembrance calls me to reflect on the disparities within my own community, on how my experience of being transgender is shaped not only by my identity, my experiences, but by the privilege I hold through my whiteness.

I move through the world with protections, assumptions, and access that are systematically denied to so many others, especially Black transgender women who face the highest rates of violence, marginalization, and erasure. Their lives, their safety, and their brilliance are threatened because our systems are built in ways that fail to protect them.

Acknowledging this isn’t a performance of guilt; it’s an anchor of responsibility. It reminds me that allyship is an active practice, one that requires me to use my privilege consciously, consistently, and unapologetically to uplift, defend, and advocate for Black and BIPOC transgender people.

Transgender Day of Remembrance reminds me that allyship within the queer community is paramount to our success, our safety, and our growth.

Living a life that is authentically mine is a privilege.

It is a privilege to live a life that honors what I know to be true about myself, to be true about our community. Living my own truth motivates me to ensure that others get to live theirs as well.

I am honored to follow in the footsteps of trailblazers, and to love, and be loved, by a community as resilient as ours.

I am reminded that love is the most powerful tool we possess, not only for ourselves, but for each other, our community, and the world around us.

Transgender Day of Remembrance reminds me that our brothers and sisters, those between and beyond the binary, our friends and loved ones, are still with us, feeding us the strength we need to continue the work they began.

Being a trailblazer doesn’t always require a grand gesture. It can start with a brick and end with a much-needed, soul-healing embrace from community.

And while attempts to legislate us out of existence are many, we, too, are many.

We might bend, but we will not break. We might fall, but we will rise. While there may be losses ahead, we will persevere. We will thrive. We will win!

We have history. We have stories. We have love.

The past walks with us as we move forward. The fire lit by Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera still burns within each of us.

Nex Benedict, Brianna Ghey, Leelah Alcorn, and so many other transgender youth continue to guide us toward a world that would have held them safely in its arms.

I remember them. I remember their names. I remember what they mean to us and how they continue to shape our movement and the future we are determined to build in their honor.

We honor our fallen siblings and friends by choosing joy, building community, and leading with unconditional love.

We remember Jax Gratton, Parker Savarese, Elisa Rae Shupe, Aubrey Dameron, Tahiry Broom, Sam Nordquist, Ervianna Johnson, Amyri Dior, Linda Becerra Moran, Jordan Maye, Charlene Cook, Katelyn Rinnetta Benoit, Kaitoria Le’Cynthia Bankz, Norah Horwitz, Kelsey Elem, Shy’Parius Dupree, Karmin Wells, Charlotte Fosgate, Jonathan Joss, Tessa June, Hope Lyca Youngblood, Laura Schueler, Emma Slabach, JJ Godbey, Christina Hayes, Lily-Dawn Harkins, Gabrielle Nguyen, Kia-Leigh Tabitha Roberts, Kamora Woods, Nathaniel Pabón Cruz, Arty Cassidy Beowulf Gibson, Dream Johnson, Rosa Machuca, Blair A. Sawyer, Aurora Pellegrina, Onyx Cornish, Kasí Rhea, Robyn James Post, Lynn Spencer, Blake Sturm, Lillia Holland, Blaze Aleczander Balle-Mason, Scarlett, Tiara Love Tori Jackson, Lia Smith, and Marisol Payero.

I remember being a queer youth. I remember believing the world was not, and never would be, for me. I remember being scared.

I learned to listen to the kid who wanted more for themself, to be happy, to be free. The kid in me that always knew who the adult in me would become.

I am not scared anymore.

I can’t be. I won’t be.

Transgender Day of Remembrance is our past, our history, our care, our hearts, and our love.

It is all that we carry as we move forward, and it will always, always be remembered.