Growing up, I didn’t know it was possible to be anything other than what the doctors told my parents I was when I was born. I always felt “tomboyish”; I loved being outdoors, playing sports, and wearing baggy clothes. I always felt like I didn’t quite fit, but lacked the language to describe how I felt and didn’t see representations of transgender people in the media or in my communities.

I remember hearing the word “genderqueer” for the first time when I was 18; it struck a chord that resonated so strongly in me that, all of a sudden, for the first time, I felt real. Gender-queer. Queer as in strange, odd, different. Queer as in my gender.

Transgender Day of Visibility means getting to exist as I am, and, by virtue of being myself openly, offering glimmers of possibility and permission for others to exist outside of what was expected of them or who the world told them they were supposed to be.

My name is Danny, and my pronouns are he/him and they/them. I am a queer, non-binary, trans man. I conceptualize my gender as being near enough to the “man” box that I’m comfortable with being perceived as such, but far enough from the box to have an experience of gender distinct from binary men. To me, Trans Day of Visibility is about being my true self, out in the open. 

There are risks and barriers that come with being visibly trans; being authentic to ourselves is itself an act of protest. It’s also about showing (and seeing) that it’s possible to be trans and have a life filled with happiness and love. There is so much to being trans that we so rarely get to see because the few depictions of us in the media are so often centered on tragedy. Trans Day of Visibility is an opportunity to highlight the joy and magic of our community, and all the amazing things folks are doing.

When I was younger, the world was so big. 

The big adults bombarded me with “possibilities” for my “potential”. And when I was younger, I did dream big—but those dreams slowly shrank as I grew. I didn’t see how “someone like me” could simply exist, let alone be in community with others like myself.

And then I found Transgender Day of Visibility. I saw so many different people’s existence. I was exposed to so many ways of being! I saw their potential, and I felt in community.

On Transgender Day of Visibility, I saw all the possibilities of who I could be while being true to myself in all aspects.

I grew up lonely and spent hours in front of the mirror looking for ways I could look more like a boy. It wasn’t until seeing conversations about puberty blockers in the media in 2017 that I dared to dream of what my life could have been like if I’d experienced my adolescence today.

Later that year, I was attending a queer film festival when a handsome man talked to me, and over our little chat, disclosed that he was a trans man. That was it. That was all I needed for my life to change forever.

I realized I could be the man I had been hiding all my life from everyone but myself. I could be proud, I could be out, I could feel safe, I could be happy, and I could even be handsome! Since that day, life has been everything I was told it couldn’t be: a journey filled with love, freedom and, growth. And it was made possible by the visibility of others who’d gone on this journey before me.