I was there in my best teenage boy attire: Baggy jeans, chest binder, crew neck T-shirt, chucks, and no makeup. I knew that I still didn't pass completely from across an audition room, but I walked up to the table, and flashed my equity card.
I've been asked to write about my own journey as a gay woman who is an out-and-proud trans ally, and I feel not brave but kind of useless. Let me explain.
Despite huge strides in the media's depiction of trans folk, in real life many still struggle against less than optimal social and financial odds.
For my graduate research I interviewed "Bernie" and other lesbians about their lives in the 1940s, '50s, and '60s. Their stories have haunted me since. These stories, and the experiences of gay men, bisexuals, and transgender people told to me by friends and friends of friends, are woven throughout my first novel, Blackmail, My Love.
I first met Cleopatra Kambugu in June 2012 and was fascinated by her determination to be the first Ugandan transgender woman accepted for her true gender identity. Despite the hate and violent history in her country, she wanted to humanize trans people.
As mayor, Mr. Park halted the enactment of Seoul's Charter of Human Rights for the city's upcoming observance of Human Rights Day. Why? The Charter included a provision stating support for non-discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity.
I don't speak for all trans people; I appreciate the sentiment, but it's not for you to write a trans anthem because you haven't lived a trans existence. Trans lives are still very much misunderstood by mainstream culture.
I'm not the type of person who likes to keep secrets. I grew up in a house where secrets floated in the air at all times, and I never liked to keep track of who knew what. But when I realized at the age of sixteen that I was a lesbian, I suddenly had my own secret to keep track of.
I think that before 2009 few people around the world knew what the Ugandan people are like, with little media attention to the country following a bru...
Today I'd like to discuss one of the first two post-Macy cases being brought by the EEOC, a case that highlights the conflict surrounding the transgender condition brilliantly. It shows us the state of mind of those Americans who either are profoundly ignorant of science or detest those who don't fit into their limited conceptions of sexuality.
If my purpose is to create change, to help bring about the end of legalized discrimination against LGBT people, my actions should be such that they are effective at bringing about that change.
We asked New Yorkers to finish the sentence, I can get married, but I still can't... and here's how some of them responded.
Sex-segregation in public schools is not only an archaic policy, it also threatens the safety of trans students and institutionalizes patriarchal definitions of gender that harm our entire society.
When asked what I did on YouTube, I used to say that I made videos to help other trans youth. However, the truth is that everyone who has reached out to me has helped me. That's what is vital about community; it hasn't been a unilateral mentoring relationship but a let's-help-one-another-and-see-what-we-can-build-together-from-this partnership.
For transgender people, who face employment discrimination, anti-trans health insurance policies and a bevy of other financial hurdles, "coming out" can come with a price tag.
"I can't do this alone." I muttered those words to myself at several points during my transition, especially as I prepared to come out in my workplace. I can remember feeling as if I was staring up at Mount Everest wondering how, and if, I could ever make it over or around it.