Rest, Dear Friends: Trans Day of Remembrance
I want to start this entry by saying I don’t identify as transgender. Some people assume I am because of how I look, and although it’s not an identity I hold, I do consider it an honor to be perceived to be part of a community with so many people I love and admire.
I have never been great with self-assigning my own labels, but I do know, however, that I share some common experiences with many of the trans folks I know. I have to worry about my safety when I’m out in the world. I have to be aware of my surroundings. I sometimes get misgendered, sometimes on accident and sometimes done in a hostile way, I sometimes get pushback when I’m using the public restrooms, I’ve had TSA misgender me and humiliate me more times than I’d like to think about. Sometimes people make assumptions about my identity, who I love and who I’m attracted to, based on what they see.
There are, however, places where my experiences differ from trans folks. Places where I am afforded protection or privilege. My responsibility as an ally starts from knowing where our experiences align, where my experiences differ, and how I can use my privilege to elevate the community I serve.
TDoR (Trans Day of Remembrance) is a somber and necessary day where we pause to honor trans individuals who died by violence in the past year. It was started in 1999 by transgender advocate Gwendolyn Ann Smith as a vigil to honor Rita Hester, a trans woman killed in 1998 (GLAAD).
“Transgender Day of Remembrance seeks to highlight the losses we face due to anti-transgender bigotry and violence. I am no stranger to the need to fight for our rights, and the right to simply exist is first and foremost. With so many seeking to erase transgender people — sometimes in the most brutal ways possible — it is vitally important that those we lose are remembered, and that we continue to fight for justice.”
– Transgender Day of Remembrance founder Gwendolyn Ann Smith
Whenever a trans person dies (either by violence or by suicide), the news comes to my desk. It is a part of my job that I will never get used to. We always check if the individual was in the adult industry. If we don’t recognize their picture or name immediately, we will cross-check their legal name in our 2257 database to see if they’ve shot for us. The number of times we’ve found a match is more trauma than any singular community should bear.
The transgender community faces a disproportionate amount of violence and death compared to non-LGBTQ identified individuals. Moreover, hate crimes against trans individuals are often misreported, underreported, or not reported at all. This is NOT okay, and as allies, we need to do better. The safety and livelihood of so many people we love depends on it.
Today I honor and reflect on the memory of those trans individuals who died by violence this past year, a fair number who also worked in the adult industry.
Family, I see you. I have dedicated my career to honoring your identity, your hustle, your stories.
You are not alone. Rest, rest today—Rest and self-care as a radical act of personal and community activism. Please know I will continue to use my marginality and privilege to fight for you and fight like my life depended on it too. I promise not to be an ally on the sidelines. I promise to be an ally there in the trenches with you. I will not waiver or fold – I will hold your stories and protect and uplift them with every ounce of strength I have.
(Cross-posted to Grooby.com)
