Last Saturday I was honored to deliver the keynote for the inaugural Lake Stevens Pride Festival. Below is an audio recording of the speech followed by the written version of the speech. Note: It is not a transcription.

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This speech is about building a home within myself; one of joy, unconditional love and liberation through transformational relationships. It is also about  heartbreak and dissonance and learning the hard way that there are so many more ways to imagine and create home and community than what most of us are taught growing up. I am also going to talk to you about Star Wars. Lastly I’ll talk about allyship, and paying it forward to protect our dreams and practice of community. 

There is a lot of rhetoric about protecting children, including how  children lack the knowledge and experience to know much about anything. As such, the narrative goes, their words and their views should be discounted.  Knowledge from life experience that comes with age is important. But we are selling humanity devastatingly short by thinking we know our children better than they know themselves. 

There are profound consequences to  invalidating children. Recently when I was on a trip home I found a box of early elementary school projects. One of those was a story I wrote called, “My Best Friend Emily.” Here’s how the story went, “This is Emily. Emily is my best friend. I love Emily. Emily has beautiful green eyes. Emily is funny. Emily makes me happy.” Apparently, I hadn’t heard of pronouns yet. 

The special feelings of closeness I had about Emily would be experienced with other girls as I aged. I knew they were special. But as a female child, I was told that was friendship, there was nothing special about it. On the other hand, whatever feelings I had toward boys – now, those supposedly were special. 

When I got older and boys expressed an interest in me, I didn’t even consider if I was interested in them. Spoiler alert, I certainly wasn’t that kind of interested. But I was supposed to be. I tried. It didn’t matter how their actions in those relationships made me feel – the gut turning fear and repulsion – that was just nerves… butterflies.

If someone had asked me when I was a child, “are you a boy or a girl?” I would have said I was a boy. Not to say that I always knew.  I was taught that it was impossible and so, I immediately dismissed this embarrassing fantasy. When puberty came, it affirmed that my gender was outside of my control. I became hyper feminine because, if I had to be a girl, I was going to be good at it.

In high school my dad gave me one of his old dress shirts and taught me to tie a tie. I put it on and felt – amazing, euphoric. I was excited to wear it to school. My adolescence was filled with hurtful days and strained relationships, this day stands out. I had discovered something I loved about myself. I assumed others would love it too. When they did not…I understood I was unlovable, or that what felt right to me was wrong to the rest of the world. 

I reached adulthood with a strong but highly inaccurate narrative that I was a straight, cisgender, neurotypical woman who was unlikable and whose feelings could not be trusted. This is the cost of invalidation.

Don’t despair, the story turns around. 

Since I couldn’t trust my feelings to help me understand what was going on, I tried to get as much distance from them as possible. I started mimicking the behavior of others in order to socially survive. 

After many years of practicing, I got pretty good at it. I went from total outcast to just eccentric and intense but occasionally included. Eventually I would have periods of time when I was able to almost “fit in”. I was friend-ing, and lover-ing and worker-ing. 

The problem with forming relationships by always meeting other people’s expectations is that the relationship depended on continuing to meet those expectations and when I didn’t, the relationship fell apart. 

I built an ice fortress around my heart trying to create a sense of safety. 

The first time I knew something true about myself despite what other people said, was in claiming my sexuality. It was a literal awakening. The evening before I was watching a talk show that featured a queer person. Their authenticity burst through my ice fortress, latched onto my heart and gave me the courage to own my truth.  I woke up and thought, “Holy moly. I’m a lesbian!” 

As you can see, this story isn’t over yet.

At 19 years old, I came bursting out of the closet. This claim of self was life altering. And for the first time in a long time, I started making authentic connections with people.

But there were still parts of me that people said were impossible. 

I decided that except for this gay-thing, all my other feelings were useless. 

I was 33 years old the first time I met an openly trans man. I was 34 years old when I came out as a trans man. Now, you might be thinking, “I knew it! It’s contagious!” Well, it’s either that or just the fact that he carried himself with this lightness that I deeply envied. Maybe it was because when I looked at him, I felt I could see his authentic self. But mostly I think it was that when I looked at him, I could see myself.

His existence and presence made me realize that I had been avoiding some very important questions, “Who am I when no one else is around? Who am I around the people who love me the most?” I looked inside and found an innocence and purity – I found my masculinity – I loved it and I claimed it.

We don’t get to hear a lot of trans stories. And those we do are often of terrible loss. Those stories are tragic and frightening. I am so grateful that that is not my story. Mine is a story of enduring love, of finding my way back to myself after an extended detour through pressure to assimilate, to conform, to meet expectations at the cost of my true self. 

When people hear that I am married they are fascinated to find out that my wife and I were married prior to my transition. They want to know, “how do you tell your spouse you are trans?” I don’t think I’ve ever told her.  I did open up about how I was feeling and what I was thinking about. I did invite her to accompany me on this journey of discovery and said, “It’s pretty cold in this ice-fortress I live in to protect myself  but I would cherish your company.” She accepted the invite.

We are worthy of great, enduring, and unconditional love. 

Ok so, at 34 I realize I’m a trans man. I handle my transition like a checklist. I’m living my authentic life. Things are going great, right?

Well…thing is… I had a lot of practice at meeting other’s expectations, it wasn’t long before I slipped back to that routine.

I was recently diagnosed with autism. Well there’s a key piece of information that would have been helpful to know a bit sooner. In retrospect I realize that  I have spent a tremendous amount of time creating social algorithms to try to understand social rules, and not trusting my own feelings. I am learning to distinguish myself from my mask. 

People who know me know that I am wound really tight. I take things REALLY seriously. I’m working on this too. 

A little over a year ago I had a surprising and upsetting professional setback. Now, we’ve talked about how I like to distance myself from my feelings. Well, distance was impossible with this situation. My feelings had swallowed me up and days were passing as I languished in my pit of feels.  

I was discussing the situation with a colleague, probably in a very logical manner knowing me. She said something that at the time, felt dismissive. I was hurt and felt wounded. If I had followed the algorithm, I would have pretended I wasn’t hurt and added a layer to my ice fortress.

This particular colleague has always had a real disregard for my ice fortress. She pretends it’s not even there and I’m like, “did you not see the fortress?” She’s all like, “That old thing? Totally unnecessary. You’re fine. You don’t need it!” She’s infuriating like that. What’s worse is I often end up smiling even when she is walking all over my fortress. 

Now, since I knew she was inclined to disregard my fortress anyway, I wondered what would happen if I too disregarded it. Could I just set my feelings down between us and trust her to not pull away? 

Then the most amazing and genuinely life changing thing happened. She didn’t stay put. She leaned in. She validated my feelings. 

What’s the big deal? The big deal is that I had lived my whole life just trying to respond correctly to other people, desperately trying to avoid rejection. I had found the courage to have a need, and to have it be known. I gave vulnerability and was met with care. She is now one of my dearest friends.

Why am I telling you this? 

Due to media coverage and the insidious narrative frame of protecting children, many people are under the impression that we are fighting against drag bans, sports bans, and book bans. In truth, people are being denied lifesaving healthcare and forcibly de-transitioned. Youth are being traumatized by being forced to go through the wrong puberty. This isn’t just about gender affirming healthcare. In some instances, people are being denied healthcare that has nothing to do with their gender identity. 

To those of you who are here in the spirit of allyship, thank you for joining us as we celebrate unconditional love, beauty of the queer community, and living our truths. Tomorrow, we need you to take action. And the day after. And the day after.

A couple of years ago I spoke at another local Pride event. My speech focused on the courage it takes each of us to become who we truly are and the role of visibility and language in finding our way to our identities. The horrific attacks on human rights for LGBTQIA+ people, particularly transgender people, have completely altered my understanding of the word “courage” and its role in our society. 

The courage of LGBTQIA+ people will not be enough to protect us. 

I heard a quote the other day by Stan Mitchell, “If you wanna be someone’s ally, but haven’t been hit by stones being thrown at them, you aren’t standing close enough to them yet.” 

The state of our country is overwhelming. It can be hard to see a path forward but by being in community together, that is how we practice hope. We keep trying. We keep resisting. 

I was watching Star Wars Andor, like the geek that I am, a few months back. The show beautifully explores how rebellions are created and what is needed to spark change. One character’s manifesto brings me hope: 

“The imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that. And know this, the day will come when all these skirmishes and battles, these moments of defiance will have flooded the banks of the Empire’s authority and then there will be one too many. One single thing will break the siege. Remember this. Try.”

Allies, we need you on the front lines. 

To my trans siblings and other members of the LGBTQIA+ community, we need you to resist. Resist believing the lies they are telling about us. Remember that the challenges we are facing are not because of who we are, but because of how we are treated. Take comfort in your inherent goodness, the purity of your intentions, the strength of your heart. 

And then do something really radical. Something to make the people weaponizing our lives wretchedly uncomfortable – enjoy your life.

Surround yourself with people who give you strength and love you unconditionally. If you haven’t found that group of people yet – keep looking because I promise you, we are here. We want to be part of your joy. And yes, the world will continue to break your heart sometimes. That is valid. I’m not promoting toxic positivity. I’m saying take from this world the joy you are owed and find the people who will hold your pieces together as you apply the super glue and wear their love like armor.

For those of you who want to be considered allies, ask yourself, each and every day, “What I have done to support trans liberation today? What have I done to support the liberation of LGBTQIA+ people today?” And don’t allow yourself to ever say, “Nothing.” Are you standing close enough to understand the urgency? Can you feel the stones?

Alone we cannot stop the onslaught of hateful and oppressive legislation. But we can show each other care, we can foster community, we can create the belonging that all of us need to withstand everyday life. And we can transform the care we receive into joy, into action and propagate unconditional love and acceptance. We can nurture the rhetoric of inclusion. We can admit we are experts on ourselves, even those of us who didn’t get the memo that we are a transgender, neurodivergent man who is likable and can trust his feelings and, plot twist, is STRAIGHT.