by Diego Sanchez of AIDS Action Committee
A week after saluting our fallen soldiers on Veterans Day, and days before food and football feasting on Thanksgiving, we honor and reflect on our murdered transgender brothers and sisters on the International Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR) on Nov. 20.For some, it’s a day on the calendar. For me, it’s a day of vivid, visceral feeling because I know one thing: that on any day of any year, as a transsexual Latino man, I could be among those killed. I could, like too many others—remembered or forgotten—be attacked by someone with no regard for my life, someone who may not face responsibility for his or her brutal act of violence. TDOR remembers our dead and celebrates our lives.
The penalties for killing or firing someone like me are topics of debate in the halls of Congress, in the media and at people’s dinner tables. It’s troubling to realize that the protections most of us take for granted must be justified for the transgender community—we must convince people of our humanity. Those attitudes are humbling in their cruelty and destructive potential.
When I was five, I told my parents that I was “born wrong.” I didn’t have other language for it, but I knew I felt like a boy, despite being born female. My mother embraced me and showed me a magazine cover featuring Christine Jorgensen, then the most visible transsexual woman. She held me and told me it would be okay. Like every mother, I’m sure that she wished her embrace could protect and keep me safe in the world. But it couldn’t and it can’t.
In the trans community, experiences like mine are rare. Life has treated me gently and kindly. I was dually socialized. Mom gave me lessons for girls. Dad gave me tools to be a wise gentleman. I studied hard, enjoyed people, sports and music and built a successful career. I’ve reached my 50th birthday. So many of us are murdered well before our prime. That’s humbling, too.
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