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It can be a scary time to be trans, but there's joy in living with authenticity

It can be a scary time to be trans, but there's joy in living with authenticity

Yahoo3 days ago

"Trans euphoria is a reality, a very, very strong reality. And as much negative news is out there, I think there needs to be as much transgender euphoria and joy celebrated, honored, respected, spread out into the world.'— Aspen Paskal
The latest news about trans people in America is rarely positive. Executive orders coming out of the White House curtail the public lives of trans people more and more each day. Discrimination and harassment are rampant as are the stories of violence and suicide. We can predict that more trans people, especially trans women of color ― already more at risk than other groups ― will be murdered.
And that is often compounded by gender dysphoria, the distress some people feel when their bodies or presentations — or society's perceptions of them — don't align with their gender.
While it's a scary time in history to be trans, there are countless transgender and gender nonconforming people leading everyday lives full of joyful resistance. And just plain joy — the kind all humans feel in large ways and small, the kind that comes from taking a risk, achieving a goal, helping others or enjoying nature. Joy can, and should, be accessible to everyone.
More from Freep Opinion: As a gay couple, we worried about acceptance in conservative Michigan town
Ximón Kittok (they/them) says it's 'vital' to focus on trans joy, now more than ever.
'It offers that important counter narrative to what a lot of the media out there is focusing on,' Kittok said, 'which is the misinformation around trans identity and trans experience, or tragedy narratives around how tough it is to be trans.'
As executive director of the Grand Rapids Trans Foundation, Kittok knows this well.
'I think focusing on gender euphoria is a beautiful thing,' they continued. 'Transness is about coming into yourself in a really authentic and meaningful way.'
For Kittok, who is genderqueer and nonbinary, that means asking themselves the kind of questions many of us ask, even if we're not trans or gender nonconforming: Who am I? How do I want to show up in the world? How do I want to show up to myself in a way that feels very liberating?
'Despite all of the negative legislation and media coverage, people are continuing to come out as trans because it is that life-saving and life-affirming,' Kittok added.
More from Freep Opinion: I'm a gay man in Detroit. Celebrating Pride feels more important than ever.
New research from Swinburne University and Murdoch Children's Research Institute in Australia backs this up. Reframing how trans people see themselves can improve mental health outcomes.
And it's not just the fault of the government and the media. Even the medical establishment sometimes focuses too much on transness as marked by gender dysphoria and feeling out of place in one's body, Kittok says. 'Shifting the narrative to something that is more focused on gender euphoria can sort of depathologize the experience,' Kittok said, 'where it's less about what's wrong and more about finding what feels right.'
Given that gender dysphoria is a feeling of distress, gender euphoria, conversely, is the feeling of comfort or happiness some trans people feel when their gender is affirmed.
People sometimes experience gender euphoria when their body aligns with their gender or when others use the correct name and pronouns for them.
One trans advocate in the Swinburne University study compared gender euphoria to 'being able to breathe without having to think about it, when — maybe for years — you had to think about every single breath.' For some, it's about being addressed properly for the first time. For others, it's hormones or surgery that help people feel more comfortable and in alignment with their identity. It might be the first time a trans person wears clothing and presents oneself to the world in a way that feels authentic.
At the Grand Rapids Trans Foundation and out in the community, Kittok often witnesses trans and gender diverse individuals experiencing validation in their authentic selves for the first time.
Sometimes, that happens in a courtroom.
'We have helped hundreds and hundreds of trans people through their legal name change process,' Kittok said. 'And as part of that, for our organization it's important that we provide emotional and moral support.' They explained the law recently changed, and that navigating any legal process can be daunting. Talking to a judge can also feel daunting, so folks using the Foundation's services are asked if they would like someone to accompany them and be a 'friendly face.'
'The moment when the judge says, OK, your name is now officially, you know, 'your name,' and they sign the document, the level of just joy and ecstasy that people experience in that moment where their name is officially changed is a really beautiful and powerful moment,' Kittok said. 'I think name changes tend to be sort of a rite of passage for the trans community in a lot of ways.'
Baddie Brooks (she/her), a vocal artist, musician and first-year music teacher who lives in Ypsilanti, talked about her own experiences with gender euphoria. Brooks was recently named Miss Trans Michigan 2025 by Trans USA National Pageantry, a 501c3 organization whose pageants emphasize advocacy for the trans community.
It's like a weight has been lifted, Brooks says.
'It almost feels like you had an elephant on your chest and then it just lifts suddenly.' That can happen naturally when people use Brooks' correct pronouns or she is treated with respect in the workplace.
When people refuse to do 'the bare minimum,' Brooks says, it's sad.
'I definitely get nervous every time I start a new job, because I never know if the environment is going to be accepting or not. I'm thankful to be in the current position I'm in as a music educator as well as a performer, because, you know, whenever you have an employer who's not accepting, it's very disheartening.'
As a performer and pageant winner, Brooks has chosen to lead a very public life. And a large part of her confidence stems from the joy she finds in being and expressing her authentic self. Brooks enjoys the glamor of pageantry, noting that she's a big fan of drag pageants. Miss Trans Michigan piqued that interest, she says, 'Because it was rooted in advocacy for the trans community. And everyone who's competing is trans.'
Brooks first experienced gender euphoria as a student at Eastern Michigan University where she studied journalism, public relations and music.
'I think one of the first moments that I experienced joy is the first time that I got my makeup done,' Brooks said. 'Their name was Morgan, a friend that I went to school at Eastern with. It was my first time wearing makeup and I kind of did it in secret, because I just wasn't allowed to do that in the home that I grew up in.' That was the first time, Brooks said, she was able to express her femininity.
Brooks performed at Ferndale Pride May 31, and continues touring festivals all over the state and beyond. Separately, Brooks' 16-track album, released in 2023, is the basis of her Reclamation Tour, which, not coincidentally, has a lot to do with trans joy.
'On my tour, people will expect the full creative storytelling of reclamation,' Brooks said. 'So the story will center around how queer and trans people are able to reclaim their identity and how there is power in reclaiming who you are despite society's expectations, despite bias, discrimination.'
Like Brooks, Aspen Paskal (he/him) is an educator. Over the course of his career, he has worked with youth in communities across the country. Recently, Paskal was laid off because the grant that supported his work was cut 'due to the political situation.'
Paskal is taking it in stride, perhaps because at 61 he has faced greater personal challenges, and remains remarkably positive. Gender euphoria is something he's very attuned to.
'For me, it's a meditation practice,' said Paskal, who was born in Detroit and returned two and half years ago after a long hiatus. 'So when I first get up in the morning, I'm going to actually support and honor me being trans in the world, and what a gift it was for me to take 40-plus years to realize that I was a trans masc person.'
Sharing that inner joy and direct experience is part of Paskal's practice, too. He explained by positing a few questions:
'Sometimes being trans, there's ways that you have to figure out, how can I access that trans joy more often? How can I bring it into my daily life? How can I bring it into my relationships with people that I love? How do I bring that trans joy to people that I might be having some disagreements with because they're misgendering me or they're not using the pronouns or respecting the pronouns that I use?'
Paskal has gone through many life changes over the last few years in the aftermath of the death of his father at the age of 102. At that time, Paskal decided to return to Detroit to live in the home he grew up in. A profound moment occurred one day, when Paskal, who is a master gardener, was tending a plot at a community garden in Berkeley, California, his home of more than 35 years.
'I was just filled to the brim with sadness,' Paskal says, 'grieving the loss of my father, grieving the loss of not being in Detroit, grieving the loss of a relationship that had recently ended. So there had been a number of things that I brought directly into the soil, the compost of the plot. And I just cried.'
Then Paskal asked the universe for a sign, to show how he could go through the grief and sadness and still remain rooted to the planet. At that moment, out of that place of sorrow, Paskal envisioned a well-rooted tree with many interconnected roots. And he recognized the roots as belonging to a colony of trees: Aspen trees.
'I knew immediately that that was my name: Aspen,' Paskal said. 'And out of that interconnected place, it was like I just walked through a brand new door. There was sunlight just streaming down everywhere. And I realized that the life that I had been carrying around in my body for so long finally was starting to emerge. And from that, I realized that it was time for me to leave the Bay Area, believe it or not, and come back to my roots, Detroit. And it was the best decision I've made in my entire life.'
Ellen Knoppow is a writer who believes in second acts. Her work has appeared in Pride Source/ Between The Lines, The Philadelphia Gay News, Our Lives Magazine and Oakland County Times. In 2022, Ellen received the award for Excellence in Transgender Coverage from NLGJA: The Association for LGBTQ+ Journalists and a 2024 Michigan Press Association award for her coverage of government and education.
Submit a letter to the editor at freep.com/letters, and we may run it online and in print.
This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: For Pride, trans Michiganders share joy in their identities | Opinion

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As a gay man, I'm finally flying a pride flag. I don't know what took so long. | Opinion Having witnessed one attempt after another by the current administration to erase LGBTQ+ people, I'm no longer OK with being a quiet gay. Show Caption Hide Caption WorldPride marched through DC for Pride month, in defiance of Trump WorldPride, The global festival promoting LGBTQ+ visibility, held it's anniversary parade in D.C. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've never bought a pride flag, much less displayed one, in my 60-some years. I've been gay for all those years, and openly, publicly so for almost all of them, but have never flown the rainbow flag. But recently, lost in thought on my front lawn here in a small town in central North Carolina, I looked up at the American flag I fly from the front porch. Five years ago, I wrote why I decided to hang the Stars and Stripes, reclaiming it as a flag of all the people, not just some. I remember thinking I was making a statement about inclusion, equality under the law and, yes, patriotism. No one, no political party, should hold the U.S. flag hostage. When people ask me where I live, I proudly tell them, 'It's the house with the Stars and Stripes. You can't miss it.' A friend's flag helped me find a reason to show my pride Then, my neighbor and friend Pier Carlo Talenti, also a gay man, posted a photo of his charming cottage with a big pride flag hung on the front porch, seeming to wave at anyone passing by. He wrote, 'For the first time ever, I'm flying a Pride flag.' And then he went on to tell us why. Talenti was angry that the Department of Defense had decided to rename the USNS Harvey Milk, erasing the gay civil rights leader from the Navy vessel that has borne it since 2021. Milk was assassinated in 1978 because of his sexual orientation; Talenti was sure the announcement of the change had been made specifically to coincide with Pride Month. 'So petty and hateful,' he wrote. He added, 'I need my neighbors who … represent a broad political spectrum (to understand) that there's a gay man living and working here and making their community better. America belongs to all of us.' In just a few hours, dozens of his friends and neighbors had commented, all of them echoing this one: 'I support this message.' A friend in Washington, DC, added, 'Maybe a few of your friends will even join you.' Well, it didn't take long. A Louisville friend posted, 'We've never flown flags either until now. We've got one, too.' That's when I went online and purchased what's known as the 'Progress Pride Flag," which includes five half-size stripes in an arrow shape representing trans and nonbinary individuals, marginalized communities of color and those living with HIV/AIDS on top of the traditional rainbow flag. That particular flag makes a clear statement in support of everything the Trump administration has tried to erase. Opinion: I wrote a book on finding joy. Even now, it's easier than you think. Trump administration trying to erase LGBTQ+ community President Donald Trump and Republicans have made their own statement on the LGBTQ+ community. It started with Trump's anti-transgender attacks, central to his reelection campaign in 2024. Once back in the Oval Office, he called on Congress to pass a bill stating that there are "only two genders' and signed an executive order in January halting federal funding for hormonal and surgical intervention for trans minors. Erased. Anti-trans decision: Supreme Court turned its back on trans youth. Our community never will. | Opinion Then, Trump fired members of the Kennedy Center Board of Trustees, became chairman and canceled all the events planned to celebrate LGBTQ+ rights for June's World Pride festival in the nation's capital. Erased. Not having done enough damage, Trump has now banned transgender people from serving in the military. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced that he'd scrub the name of the USNS Harvey Milk, who served as a Navy operations officer on rescue submarines during the Korean War then went on to become the first openly gay man elected to public office in California. If all that wasn't enough, the administration announced plans to end a suicide hotline explicitly created for LGBTQ+ youth. Why haven't I flown a pride flag before? But it made me wonder why I had never done this before. I have been writing about LGBTQ+ issues for decades: books, columns, public talks. I'm no shrinking violet (one of the seven colors in the rainbow flag, and one of many more on some of the newer variations). My identity is no secret. Still, I had my reasons for not identifying my house. I live not far from Ku Klux Klan country, and in recent years KKK members have visited our town, white robes flowing and Confederate flags flying. They've made threats. They've left abhorrent literature on people's front porches. A 2019 invasion frightened many in town, especially my Black and Brown neighbors, who witnessed a hate they thought belonged to another time. I'd been fearful, too, and did not want my house to become a target. As a journalist, I'd already faced a home invasion from a reader who stalked me online for months, finally deciding to confront me by trying to break down my front door. This was in 2018, just before five journalists were killed in Annapolis, Maryland. There was another reason, too, which has only congealed for me. Over the years ‒ decades ‒ I'd changed. At one time, I had enthusiastically and regularly marched in San Francisco Pride, but I hadn't participated in years. I'd once lived in the Castro District (one of this nation's gay meccas), but I'd moved to the suburbs and then to North Carolina. I had once been single, but I'd married my husband and committed to our two dogs. My god, I even got rid of the flashy fake diamond stud that I'd sported for many years. Was it just age, my older self not being as out there as my younger one? Or had something else happened, and I just wasn't 'that kind of gay' anymore? I wasn't even sure what that meant, but it seemed I'd become the kind of gay who didn't hang a pride flag from his front porch. Well, I am again. Like Talenti and other friends, it's time for me to step it up. Having witnessed one attempt after another by the current administration to erase LGBTQ+ people, I'm no longer OK with being a quiet gay. It's time to be a more visible and vocal member of our community ‒ to be counted and to be seen. I've said for many years that I refuse to let fear drive how I live, not realizing I'd already succumbed in this very important way. I think of others in the LGBTQ+ community who live lives at much greater risk than I do, thanks to their sexual identity and the color of their skin, and I know that I need to step into the light on behalf of those who must still live in the shadows. That's why I've hung the pride flag on my front porch, for everyone to see. It's a beacon in these dark times. Now, when people ask me where I live, I tell them, 'It's the house with the pride flag. You can't miss it.' Steven Petrow is a columnist who writes on civility and manners and the author of seven books, including 'The Joy You Make' and "Stupid Things I Won't Do When I Get Old." Follow him on Threads: @

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