(TW: Death, Bullying, Violence, Murder, Depression, Suicide, Conversion Therapy, Misgendering, Politics)
Below is the speech I gave at the Transgender Day of Remembrance gathering in Howell, Michigan, on November 17th, 2023.
Each of the speakers spoke our truth, shared statistics and personal stories, and honored those we lost this year.
(Links have been included to my source material and relevant information.)
Good evening.
I am a 24-year Livingston County resident.
…an artist who expresses herself through multiple mediums, including: writing stories and poetry, photography, graphic design, and music.
I am an intersex and transgender woman, and my pronouns are she/her.
My name is Evelyn Redwine.
When I was invited to speak at our local Howell Transgender Day of Remembrance, I hesitated to accept, feeling that I was not the best choice.
I reached out to a dear friend, who is a respected and treasured member of the trans community, to talk with her about my concerns. One of which was that I am only now beginning my public transition.
This is only the tenth time I have put makeup on myself and the second time I have been out to a public event in my hometown.
I asked my friend, “What gives me the right to stand in front of people and talk about trans issues and experiences when my exposure to conflict has been limited?”
She agreed that being upfront about where I am in my journey would be a good place to start.
When I came out to my “then” spouse 34 years ago, the topic of intersex and trans was not widely understood or even talked about. At the time, she had only heard of one trans person, tennis player Dr. Renée Richards.
In some ways, visibility has made things easier for the trans community. We are able to build upon the foundation that was created by those who came before us. We are able to share stories of people who have lived their truth out and proud.
The same societal influences that kept me from living or even speaking my truth are now being used by emboldened preachers and politicians who choose to war against anything that speaks of diversity, though we live on a planet where diversity is the norm.
In June of 1963, I was born, having both male and female traits. Back then, doctors and parents believed it best to “fix” babies who were born with any nonbinary traits. They believed it would be easier for children if they fit into the “normal” gender binary.
Physicians and doctors advised parents to keep the facts of their child’s status at birth from the affected children, to sweep it under the rug, as it were.
Well, they had been sweeping an awful lot of abuse under that rug in order to create the illusion that they lived in a nice, clean, organized society where people who were different from them were kept “where they belonged.”
From the 1960s through the end of the 1980s, nobody I knew talked about LGBTQIA+ issues except to ridicule those who did not fit society’s mold.
Even in my earliest memories, I knew I was a girl. At three years old, I understood that who I was inside did not match what everyone else said I was. Like a lot of trans kids, I longed to express myself honestly but was pushed toward toys and interests that were those of my assigned gender. When my body began to show signs of female puberty, my mother and our family doctor forced testosterone on me.
Later in life, my father and brother thought it best to “toughen me up” in order to keep me from becoming fodder for bullies. In doing so, they became the primary bullies in my life. I quickly realized that to survive, I would have to become like them or at least act like them.
I fell in line and suppressed my inner self, but it came with a cost.
Depression and self-deprecation were my constant companions starting at age 12. My situational depression continued till, at age 44, I attempted to take my own life. It was at this point that I reached out for help and found it in the form of a caring gender therapist, trans and church-related small groups, and understanding friends and family.
Talking about what I was going through helped a lot, but starting estrogen therapy gave my mind and body what it had been needing all along. It also gave me a peace I had not felt in a long time.
Not all transgender people can point to the reason their gender is at odds with their body or societal expectations, but they shouldn’t have to. The fact is, we exist and have existed throughout history.
Despite not knowing that I had been born intersex, I innately and definitively knew what my gender was. Though the doctor and my mother knew the facts surrounding my birth, I had no agency over my own self-expression or which puberty I would go through. This speaks to one of the many reasons transgender children, who are both insistent and consistent, should be allowed to express themselves freely as the gender they claim to be.
In truth, nobody can tell you who I am but me.
November 28th will mark the 24th anniversary of the first Transgender Day of Remembrance. In 1999, Gwendolyn Ann Smith and a group of trans activists carved out a day to remember those in the community who had lost their lives during the previous year, specifically those who had been murdered. The official day was later changed to November 20th.
We gather here today because each of us understands the need to honor the lives and speak the names of those who have been lost because we understand that we live in a world that, in many cases, looks the other way when one of us is killed.
If we expect the world to acknowledge what has been lost, that change, that acknowledgment, that movement starts with us talking about a subject that the world does not want to hear and showing them a history of oppression and violence they may not want to see.
Tonight, I would like to share a handful of short stories I believe shine a light on the current state of our country as seen through the eyes of those affected by anti-trans bigotry and violence, as well as laws that have been proposed and in some cases, implemented across the United States.
Having just completed a 2,000-mile escape from her home state of Texas to Connecticut, Kimberly Shappley said, “We woke up this morning in a new state. Kai began to cry happy tears while we unloaded our bags at the hotel last night. We are so relieved to be out of Texas.”
The family is now settled. They are starting to grow roots and are hoping they don’t have to move yet again.
Kimberly expressed her continuing concern for her trans daughter, Kai, and everyone in the trans community. “Like so many families of trans kids who have already moved across country, I am afraid it may not have been enough as the momentum against the community continues to build.”
Another highly visible activist and mother of a trans child, Debi Jackson, and her family recently fled the United States in order to protect her daughter, Avery.
An adult user on Threads recently commented, “My girlfriend and I have been trapped in Kentucky and saving up to move to Chicago, so we’ll be closer to Canada and in a safer area while waiting.
The end goal is Norway, Iceland, or maybe New Zealand, but right now, we’re just trying to escape before our access to hormone replacement therapy gets even more dicey.
This country isn’t safe.”
An article by Nico Lang in the Huffington Post relays the story of the Wilson family, who immigrated to New Zealand after Lauren Wilson, the mother of a trans son, was stalked and harassed in their home state of Texas. Their address was leaked online, and protesters began showing up at their door. After Lauren began being followed to work, her trans son, Grey, blamed himself.
He felt he had brought all of this down upon them. “The thing they hate about her is me,” he thought to himself. “They’re going after her because of me.”
“I felt a lot of responsibility for what was happening,” said Grey, now 19. “I know logically it isn’t, but a part of me thought, ‘Well, if I wasn’t trans, she wouldn’t be getting harassed.’”
On July 28, a Staten Island woman was reportedly maced, dragged out of a local deli by her hair, and kicked in the head after the cashier mistakenly identified her as being trans. Although the cashier has been fired, the store hasn’t cooperated in identifying him.
We will hear a lot of names tonight. These were people with friends and families, with talent and beauty both inside and out. Each of the names we will hear tonight are those of people who made a difference in their community and in the lives of their families and friends; each of them mattered, and being a victim of murder does not change that.
We will hear names like:
London Price, a 26-year-old Black transgender woman who was described by her aunt as being “always beautiful and pretty,” saying, “She’ll give you the shirt off her back, and I think that’s kind of what put her in this situation to get her hurt.”
Jacob Williamson, an 18-year-old transgender man, worked at a local Waffle House and was beloved by coworkers. Jacob loved to sing and draw.
Ashia Davis was a 34-year-old Black transgender woman from Detroit who was full of joy, devoted to her faith, and a loving dog owner to a Yorkie named Clyde.
Ashia’s good friend, who is also transgender, said they had known each other since they were children. “And we loved each other. Ashia was a good friend of mine.”
Camdyn Rider, a 21-year-old white transgender man, was eight months pregnant at the time of his murder. Camdyn had recently posted on Facebook about how excited he was to welcome a child into the world.
Koko Da Doll was a 35-year-old Black transgender woman, a successful rapper who was working on new music, and starred in the barrier-breaking, award-winning Sundance Film Festival documentary, “Kokomo City.”
In 2023:
88% of victims were people of color
54% were Black transgender women
73% were killed with a gun
47% of victims with a known killer were killed by a romantic or sexual partner, friend, or family member
…and…
50% were misgendered or deadnamed by authorities or the press.
Today is a day set aside for remembrance. This evening we gather here in the historic Howell Opera House to acknowledge and honor those in the transgender and gender non-conforming community around the world who have lost their lives in the past year.
Despite our best efforts to educate the world about the importance of diversity, equity, inclusion, justice, and belonging…
Despite the fact that we have made enormous strides in recent years…
We are still unable to protect ourselves and our trans siblings from the destructive power of propaganda, bigotry, hatred, and violence that are still part of daily life for marginalized communities around the world.
Still, there are those who, having been entrusted with positions of power and influence, oppose our very existence. To say that they have been making life more difficult is a gross understatement. Their goal is to push us to the outskirts of society and back in the closet by legally making it impossible for a transgender person to exist in their state and in their country.
The evidence can be seen as displaced families flee states that have proposed or enacted bans on medical care for and the public existence of transgender people of all ages.
Their propaganda, whether in the form of misinformation or outright lies, has had an impact on how LGBTQIA+ people are seen, understood, and treated by much of the world population.
Despite continued assaults on our rights, despite the hatred fueled by misunderstanding, in honor of the people whose deaths we mourn this evening, we cannot lose hope.
We must stand up for those who remain.
In the coming year, more names will be added to the list of lives lost.
Once again, we will gather to mourn, but we will not lose hope. We will not stop trying to create a better, more equitable world where people are free to be their authentic selves without fear of prosecution, without fear of losing their job, their home, or their lives.
To paraphrase author John Pavlovitz,
“In days like these, nothing helpful can come from resignation.
Hopelessness has never made the world more safe, just, or beautiful, and it is of no use right now.
Anything else we can work with.
Anger, outrage, and grief can be redirected into a passionate and productive response.”
Thank you, John, for being an ally and a friend.
The first step is to acknowledge that our hope lies in the ability of one person to influence another through the power of connection.
Darkness and evil are exposed by light and truth, and though it may look like we are losing this battle, we are, in fact, making a difference.
Our voices and our truths are opening hearts, dispelling falsehoods, and exposing bigotry. This is why we see an increase in the bold and unrelenting attacks on transgender rights and bodies.
The more acceptance we receive, the more pushback we see. In the past, I have wondered why they chose us as their political pawns.
I and much of the country see it clearly now.
These are desperate acts perpetrated by terrorists who use fear to control the reactions of those they perceive as their enemies. These are the death throws of an antiquated societal system that forced the beauty of diversity to fit into a narrow, homogenous existence.
By limiting what was seen as acceptable human expression; by forcing intersex, transgender, non-conforming, and two-spirited people to fit a binary gender mold, America lost something past cultures understood.
With diversity comes a better understanding of each other and of what is possible if we work together.
How can we make a difference?
…by doing.
Sharing facts is important. Sharing your experience and the stories of people in the trans community gives a face to otherwise disconnected information. Only through a change of heart can we hope to affect their values and their votes.
Only through their votes can we change the political landscape.
What we are doing is working. We see it clearly in the opposition’s desperate attempts to quell this uprising of empathy and understanding,
of inclusion and acceptance,
of visibility and dignity.
So keep giving of your time, your resources, your compassion, and your heart.
For together, we can continue to honor the lives lost…
By speaking their names…
By sharing their stories…
By standing up and taking part in their fight.
…and never losing hope.
Thank you for being here tonight and for your continuing support.
~ elr
Image: ID 46342389 © Ivan Kmit | Dreamstime.com
Thank you dear Evelyn for sharing your thoughts and intimate details of your life.
Like so many others, you lived through persecution based on ignorance and lies. You feared exposing the true nature of your soul. Your fervent prayers to Almighty God seemed to go unanswered. Shame became internalized as self loathing.
That was then.
By permitting yourself to live your authentic truth you lost a great deal. Fortunately, much of that loss was the decades long shame and anxiety.
The woman that I saw at a PRIDE event this past summer was one that I prayed would emerge and feared never would. She was confident, happy, and excited about life.
Love, Val