International Transgender Day of Visibility

March 31 is International Transgender Day of Visibility (TDOV), so consider this a love letter addressed to whom it may concern.

Executive director and cofounder of Transgender Michigan, Rachel Crandall Crocker, LMSW, set TDOV on the calendar in 2010. As an occasion for celebration and social awareness, TDOV is all about humanizing gender-diverse people around the world. On every social media platform, you will see the courageous faces of people of every age, generation, race, and ethnicity who share who they are. You will see coming out stories recalled from the past or happening in real-time, as many use the date to announce their authenticity. You will see posts of solidarity and advocates flying trans and nonbinary flags. And for every visible trans and nonbinary person you see, there is an untold number who remain unseen.

Perhaps it’s not time yet.

Perhaps their gender is still gestating.

Perhaps there are too many risks.

Social camouflage is sometimes necessary, as so many of us traverse hostile environments. Yet herein lies the importance of TDOV. Whether you’re out and visible or biding your time, it’s heartwarming to know there are so many gender-diverse people who understand and empathize with the trans experience. More than that, it’s socially empowering and psychologically invaluable.

Feelings of isolation and alienation are rampant because trans and nonbinary people aren’t born into a trans and nonbinary family with a trans and nonbinary culture. We’re scattered around the world, so it’s important for us to find each other, see each other, and validate each other. In the U.S., the Williams Institute estimates there are 1.6 million transgender people. That’s 300,00 children between the ages of 13 and 17 and 1.3 million people aged 18 and up. To put that into perspective, 1.6 million is approximately the population of Phoenix, Arizona. 1.6 million is San Antonio, Texas. 1.6 million is Philadelphia. 1.6 million is San Diego.

No, we are not all the same. Our many differences account for our beautiful diversity. But think about that number for a moment. Our population is comparable to some of the larger cities in the country, and our numbers are growing. Fear mongers would blame the steady increase of visible trans people on the paranoid and unsupported claim of social contagion. Allies will tell you it’s because of all their awareness and safe-space campaigns. But between you and me? It’s you and me.

We’re building community because we see each other. We’re building resilience because we look out for each other. And we’re building hope because we support each other. We were always here, but there's a big difference between knowing that in a broad historical sense and seeing it. Events like TDOV are powerful because the mundane act of witnessing each other's existence is as affirming as it is inspiring.

We live in a time so inundated by anti-trans legislation that every newscast is depressing. When politicians dehumanize and scapegoat the trans community to whip up conflict. When the violence against trans and nonbinary people has skyrocketed so high the Human Rights Campaign (HRC) declared a national state of emergency for LGBTQ+ Americans for the first time in 40 years. For all these reasons, International Day of Transgender Visibility is needed now more than ever to connect us, build solidarity, and humanize who we are.

Source: Alex Stitt, LMHC (They/Them)

So here's my picture. I'm a trans-nonbinary, genderfluid mental health counselor with a rainbow necklace and a goofy smile. Like many people who struggle with gender dysphoria and beam with gender euphoria, I have a complicated relationship with photographs. Yet I chose this one for TDOV because I'm genuinely smiling. On TDOV, I smile a lot. I smile when you post about yourself, whether a simple selfie or a cheerful meme from behind your avatar. I smile to know you exist and are brave enough to be.

You see, I know, as you know that authenticity isn’t easy. It requires courage in the face of adversity, holding fast against ignorance and accusation, and knowing the greater cost of staying in the shadows. And I know, as you know, that it’s worth it.