Jaco - a TGNC Portrait Project by Lavender Phoenix

JACO by Jappy Cheung

APIENC - Winter 2018

ABOUT THE PROJECT

Jaco is a visual arts project documenting the lives of trans and gender non conformingÂ Asian, East Asian, Southeast Asian, and South Asian people.

"I am a student from Hong Kong and this is my first time working and studying in the Bay Area. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve met many TGNC API folks in daily life, but I find there is a lack of representation of TGNC API folks on social media. This lack of visibility is telling people that TGNC API folks do not exist in the world. I aim to uplift transgender and gender non-conforming Asian and Pacific Islander visibility through this photography and oral history project." - Jappy Cheung

December 2018

No part of this zine may be reproduced without prior written permission from the artists.

For Jaco and Ellen

TABLE OF CONTENTS Cameron

Austin

Avery

Eli

Kyle

Brian Huo

Ari

Rabeya

Trang

Phibi

Eddie

Jojo

Cameron

My name is Cameron, or Cam for short, and my pronouns are they/them.

Pronouns mean respect: valuing and witnessing who I am as a multifaceted human being. It’s a way to acknowledge my existence. When someone uses the correct pronouns, they’re saying “I see you. I see you as your whole self and honour your truths. I see the ways you’ve survived and persisted in a world that wants you dead.”

I identify as a lot of different things: trans, nonbinary, agender, genderfluid… I mostly go with trans and nonbinary for simplicity’s sake. I also identify as queer, which I like because my sexual and romantic attractions constantly shift. It’s one of the few terms I feel encompasses the freedom and fluidity in how I experience human connection.

I first came out as a lesbian to my close group of friends in middle school. I knew “lesbian” didn’t quite fit me, but I didn’t know what else to call myself. Back then “queer” didn’t exist the way it does now, so I settled for lesbian because at the time it was the closest word I had to describing how I felt. Soon after people started spreading rumours that outed me. After a while, I got sick of it and decided to come out more publicly on my own terms. In that way, it was sort of a “Fuck you, yeah I am gay. So, what?” It shut people up pretty quickly at first, but once I started speaking out about queerphobia and transphobia, I got a lot of backlash. Ultimately what got me through were my close friends who were incredibly supportive. I definitely wouldn’t be here now and wouldn’t have achieved half as much as I have without the people who have stood by me throughout my life. I owe all of this to them.

I came out to my mom as gay in high school, but she sort of pretended it didn’t happen for a long time. I honestly don’t remember much from back then because a lot of traumatic things were happening in my life, but she would say things like “When you get a boyfriend…” or “When you get married to a man and have kids…” I don’t know what she was thinking when she said this or how she was processing the news in general, but her biggest concern has always been how this part of my identity would make my life harder in a lot of different ways. She tried to change me, control me, do other things that made me upset, and we got into a lot of arguments. I know she was coming from a place of love and concern, but it was really hard to hear such unsupportive, invalidating remarks. It made me feel like I was wrong or shouldn’t be this way, like I wasn’t enough as I was.

When I first started questioning my gender in high school, I held a lot of internalized transphobia and a very limited understanding of what being trans felt and looked like. The knowledge I had access to was very binaristic, so I thought being a trans man was my only option because “well, if I’m not a woman, I must be a (trans) man... right?” Even though it didn’t feel right, I hypermasculinized myself and rejected all things feminine to try to fit into mainstream narratives about trans people. I was afraid that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be “trans enough” and would consequently be alienated from the trans community. I struggled with that a lot, even after I started learning about gender identities that fell outside of the binary.

Eventually, I came to accept that I didn’t have to force myself into either “man” or “woman” in order to belong—I didn’t have to force myself to be yet another version of who I’m not. My beliefs around what being trans meant expanded tenfold, and suddenly there were so many possibilities open to me! Being able to define for myself what my gender means in spite of so many systemic oppressions working against my existence has been really liberating and empowering.

If I had the choice, I’m not sure I ever would have come out to my family as trans. The whole thing was a wild ride. I was secretly making plans to get top surgery, which I had wanted for years at that point. It always felt like such an out-of-reach dream, so I never thought it would actually happen. But over the course of a few months I managed to get all the necessary documents, including a ridiculous psych eval, together and I had a surgery date two months away! After the initial excitement wore off, I had to start planning for the recovery process. Who would I tell? Who would pick me up and take care of me after the surgery? Where would I stay? All these problems felt impossible to solve without my family’s support. At that point, I had developed a lot of chronic health problems because I was binding my chest every day for years, plus I was severely depressed and suicidal (a lot of which was related to dysphoria and social isolation). I’m sure that if I didn’t get top surgery when I did, I wouldn’t be here today. So I felt like I had no choice but to come out to my family, ask for their support, and hope for the best.

I was terrified and kept putting it off until the literal last minute. I came out to my older brother first and asked him to be there when I told our mom. He wasn’t that supportive, and it was like pulling tooth and nail to get him to agree, but he eventually did. So, I frantically started looking up words for “transgender,” “nonbinary,” “top surgery,” etc. in a Chinese dictionary, which in hindsight is kind of funny.

Exactly a week before my surgery date, I came out to my mom. I sat her down with my brother and told her I was planning on getting surgery. The instant the words came out of my mouth, my mom started sobbing and begging me. “No, no, please don’t.” I don’t know if she meant “don’t get the surgery” or “don’t be trans,” but it broke my heart. I tried to explain why I needed the surgery so badly, but the words just didn’t exist in Chinese. I didn’t exist in my own language and culture. My mom told me she wasn’t against the surgery but wanted me to postpone it because she was scared and wanted more time to get more information. She described it as me “dropping a huge bomb” on her, which is totally understandable. It was a heartbreaking situation for all of us.

I already knew in my heart that I had made my choice to move forward with the surgery regardless of how my family felt, but outwardly I was still so torn because I could see how much pain it was bringing my mom. I felt so guilty, like she had sacrificed so much for me throughout my entire life and I couldn’t even give her this one thing. But what drove me to stand strong and advocate for myself was knowing that it wasn’t wrong of me to do something that was wholly for myself. I just realized I didn’t have to sacrifice myself for my family despite all the familial obligation ingrained in our culture and family dynamics.

It seems silly, but that was the first time I truly realized that I was important. That my family’s needs weren’t more valuable than my own and that prioritizing my needs above my family’s wasn’t selfish or uncaring. Even today, proceeding to get surgery against my family’s wishes has been the most difficult and heartbreaking but also the most liberating decision I’ve ever made.

There are a lot of misconceptions about TGNC folks. Even within the TGNC community there’s so much judgement and cruelty. Trans people get policed by other trans people all the time for not being “trans enough” or not “passing” as cis well enough. Or we’re forced into the binary when fellow trans and/or queer people label us as “femme” or “masc” without our consent. It’s frustrating because we’re all we have, we’re the only ones we can rely on to fight for our rights and humanity. It makes no sense to tear each other down when we should be uplifting each other to create new possibilities and build a better future for all of us.

A few months ago, I found out that I’m the first person of color in the US to legally change their gender to nonbinary. The second person in California and the third person in the US overall. I was honestly shocked. I didn’t go through the whole process thinking I would be making history. I was just doing what felt right in the moment. But this realization does put a lot into perspective for me. Anyone can create change, and no effort at shifting culture or pushing back against oppression is useless. And as big of an impact as an individual can make, a community can manifest even greater transformation. My name and gender change wouldn’t have been possible without the support of my community, who not only fundraised enough money to cover the costs in less than a week but also have continuously sustained me with strength, hope, and softness through the most difficult parts of my life. Everything I do is for my QTPOC community and nothing I do is possible without the work of the people, especially of black trans women, who came before me. I hope to continue building on the foundation they’ve given their lives for.

For me, being a queer & trans Asian person isn’t just an identity, it’s a political statement. My survival is a constant act of resistance and a strive toward solidarity with other marginalized communities.

Austin

My name is Austin. I identify as a queer non-binary trans person. I use they/them pronouns. When I use they/them pronouns, I feel most at home with my body.

When I was young, people would put labels on me when I was not even sure of my own gender or sexual identity. They thought I was a tomboy, they said I was masculine and I walked like a dude. From my body and voice, people also determined me as a girl because of my chest and soft voice. In the simplest terms of coming into myself, I recognized that I am neither a man or a woman. I am just Austin.

Before you come out to other people, you have to come in and come out to yourself. That is part of the process that we need to learn: how can we grow into the body that we have and make a home in what contains us. My process was kickstarted before there was the vocabulary to define what I felt. I am forever grateful for the support and vulnerability my friends in college offered when I was questioning my gender identity. I still vividly remember the night it all happened. I was with my friends when the truth of who I am, as a trans person, took its first breath. I remember crying out in release. For the first time I accepted and embraced myself fully. It was breathtaking. I never felt so seen, and I still think it was one of the most ground-breaking discoveries with myself.

There are still assumptions, stereotypes, and oppressive shame and guilt that hinders my ability to breathe. I remember I was just holding someone I loved, and some people said that was wrong, and they asked me who I was pretending to be. They saw me as someone who is not a man nor a woman. Someone who cannot perform to the gender roles we have been assigned to. Whether in their outright disgust or poignant glares, I can feel their assumptions and desire to suppress all that is me. And some days, it can be hard to breathe knowing that transphobia is alive and prevalent. I should not have to tell you that there is so much anti-trans violence. I should not have to tell you that it can be hard waking up knowing that trans lives arenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t valued - repeated over and over again. Me repeating the statistics does not directly or immediately help black trans womxn who face deadly violence. Me repeating why it hurts does not help me heal. As much as it is important to think about the violence and repression, it is even more important to think about resistance and resilience. I want to share and hear more about the light and beauty of trans, nonbinary, gender non-conforming folks just doing the simplest things like sharing a meal and admiring dogs together. I am here not to educate nor explain who I am to people who do not care. I am here to do more than mourn for my trancestors that have paved the way for me to be here. I am here to not just be ready to die to protect who we are. I am here to live and look toward the future where we can all be our fullest selves.

To my fellow trans, nonbinary and gender nonconforming siblings, I wish to remind you that we are whole even when the world tries to break us every day. You are loved. I see you, I believe you. Being yourself is more than enough and I am sending you so much love and strength today and every day.

Avery

My name is Avery. I was assigned female at birth, but I am a non-binary transgender queer. I realized it in college, after I went to a T-Camp, a retreat for transgender people and gender questioning people. There, you could learn more about different gender identities.

After I went to that camp, I started using they/them as my gender pronouns. This was the first part of my transitions. I got top surgery a year ago, and I am taking testosterone. I am always going to be transitioning, because being a non-binary person means I am constantly fluid.

The first time I realized I was a queer was when I got into a relationship with a girl. I came out to my parents as bisexual when I was 16. They were very angry, sad, and disappointed.

“So, you want to be half a boy and half a girl?” They did not understand. I think they accept it now, but we don’t talk about it. They just want me to be happy and healthy. However, my parents don’t know that I’m trans. If I use the words transgender or non-binary to my parents, I don’t think they’ll understand. If I wanted to, I could find the Vietnamese words for it, but I think I would have to give them a whole gender 101 first. I haven’t told them about getting top surgery. I’m sure my parents have noticed that I am different, but they never asked.

I’m always explaining myself to other people, which is very hard to live with. I work with the assumptions that most people do not know what non-binary means. In that sense I feel invisible. I work with the assumption that when people see me, they may just think I’m a lesbian. People do not recognize me as a transgender person, and I also get treated poorly when people think I am a woman.

I used to try a lot harder to be masculine before I took my top surgery and hormones, like I was trying to prove something. After I started taking testosterone, I became a lot more confident doing things that might be categorized as feminine. Before, I would try not to wear dresses. I still don’t wear makeup--it is too hard for me--but now I am obsessed with the color pink, which I never liked it before. Right now, I can actually do things that make me feel better rather than just trying to prove myself. My physical transition has been good.

I don’t think the US government is treating us fairly in a lot of ways. In a lot of states, it is still legal to fire somebody for being a transgender person or queer. It still takes a lot of work to justify getting surgery.

People think we are dirty, we are being abused, we are traumatized, or that if you are a trans woman, you automatically do sex work. To some degree this is true, but we should not be defined or only understood by our traumas. Unfortunately, there are still people who think transgender women are just “men who dress like women.” I used to work with LGBT youth, and I remember one of them was a transgender man who had faced sexual assault. They firmly believed that all transgender women were rapists. This was informed by their traumas, and it was really fucked up. Even though they were a transgender person, their trauma shaped the belief that transgender women were just men who were trying to get into women’s spaces.

I want to tell the public that we are everywhere, and you cannot tell just by looking at us. Also, I love and appreciate all transgender people for existing. We are powerful, and we make beautiful things in the world.

Eli

My name is Eli. I was assigned female at birth. I identify as queer and transmasculine. My gender pronouns are he/him/his or they/them/theirs.

I live my life out and visible. I came out to myself in middle school as queer. I came out as transgender in my early 20s. I don’t think I had really thought about gender until I met other transgender people. I was able to connect with folks in my community at the time and have conversations with them about their experiences. I quickly started questioning what sex and gender really meant in this world.

When I was first trying to figure out my gender identity, I would only see white stories and white narratives. I had a hard time finding Asian transmasculine folks, and would mostly come across transwomen. It seemed like people had really negative perceptions about trans people.

When I decided to come out as transgender, I first came out to my friends and then my family. With my parents, I sat them down and I told them. I literally gave them a PDF about gender identity that I had highlighted, and I told them I was gender queer—that was the terminology that I used at that time. I was 23. They were surprised, to say the least. Things were definitely difficult at first. We took some much needed time apart, and they eventually came around, and are very supportive now.

When I first started my physical transition, people often questioned if I was a boy or girl, and unfortunately I experienced some physical harassment. Sometimes I tell folks, and sometimes I don’t tell them, because they don’t need to know. People are often nosy, and ask things that they don’t need to know.

I am proud to be a transgender person. Like I said, I live my life pretty visible. I work for a queer non-profit organization and have the privilege and safety to be out at work. My work outside of work is doing creative things: making music, DJing, and organizing parties and events that center queer and transgender people of color. We are just human, trying to live. We have been around for forever. Whether you have realized it or not, you probably have talked or interacted with transgender person before.

Kyle

My name is Kyle. I was assigned female at birth, and am a trans man. My pronouns are he/him.

People often ask me when I first “knew” I was trans. First of all, that question carries a ton of assumptions about what it is like to be trans. But how I answer is that I’ve always known there was something uncomfortable about my body, but I didn’t know what. These vaguely uncomfortable feelings were a package at my door that I never dared to touch or open. I knew there was something unpleasant to be unpacked but I had no idea what was inside.

March 2017 was the first time that I allowed myself to consider the possibility that I might be trans. That summer, I took my first step by cutting my hair really short. When I looked in the mirror, I was overcome with a sense of self love and contentedness with my appearance that I had never felt before. A few weeks later, my nonbinary friend offered to let me try their chest binder. I had not considered binding before then, but when I did, it felt just so right. My body felt more like a home. Obviously binding is uncomfortable, but the effect it gave was so euphoric.

The first person I came out to was my transfeminine friend that I met freshman year. We lived on the same floor. At the time, she was the first trans person I had ever met in person. Before then, my only conception of trans people were as the butts of jokes on TV shows. The only portrayals I had seen of trans people were that they were confused, pathetic, disgusting, conniving, or dangerous. How could anyone in a hostile environment like this even consider being trans?

I kept my parents updated the whole time. I have a really good relationship with my parents, and I am really close to my mom. I did not want to, nor would I have been able to hide the whole thing from them. Right when I wanted to start my transition in March 2017, I gave her a heads up that I was questioning my gender. She started crying, “no, no, no… It cannot be. It is not possible…”

I am really grateful that my parents have not cut me off in many ways. They obviously care about and love me. As much as I dislike rigid Confucianist ideas of family structure, I believe it was why they never would have considered disowning me. In the same way I am pressured to be a model child, they are pressured to be—or perceived to be, at least—good parents who wouldn’t abandon their child. Though my mom has stopped trying to actively stop my transition, she cannot feel the happiness I get through transition, as much as she tries. She hopes that I am just confused. If I told her it turns out I am not trans, she would throw a fucking party! She would be so happy because it is just easier to be cis.

There are so many misunderstandings about the TGNC community. When I came out to my family, my sister said she didn’t quite believe I was trans—she was not convinced by the stories I had written in my coming-out post on Facebook. Everyone has this idea that there is only one narrative of the trans experience: you are only “truly trans” if you knew it ever since you were born, always hated your body in a very vocal way, and were never happy. This tragic story of “born in the wrong body” is the only one cis people will believe and accept. While the story is very true for some people, it is not how it is for everyone. Yet cis people and institutions use it as a benchmark to measure up everyone else to, denying necessary treatment to people who do not fit the one narrative. There is no one way to be trans and there is nothing inherently bad or wrong about being trans. The only reason living as trans people is so difficult is because our society and its institutions are transphobic.

Brian Huo

My name is Brian Huo. I was assigned male at birth, but my gender identity is gender fluid. I am actually fine with any pronouns. To someone who identifies as gender fluid, neither homosexuality or heterosexuality really accurately describes me. I generally just describe myself as gynephilic.

I knew my gender identity was different from my assigned sex at birth since I was in high school. Before that, I didn’t really know anything about gender identity or what being transgender meant. When I learned about gender neutrality and gender fluidity, I found that it better described what I was feeling more than anything else had before. I’m not super firm about the specifics yet, but I found it’s the best way to describe myself.

Being a genderfluid person does not really affect me that much in daily life--mostly because I feel fairly neutral and present as male. I've considered taking hormones, but I doubt I would ever consider surgery since my gender identity shifts all the time. Besides, it takes a lot of steps to even be eligible for surgery.

The biggest problem that I face as a genderfluid person is that people do not understand what genderfluid means. It’s not really a thing that has much representation in the media yet. Mostly, people just make fun of the idea online. When people learn about it for the first time, they don't tend to take it seriously. “How can that be possible?” It sounds ridiculous to them. They’ve only ever identified as one gender, and they don't comprehend what gender fluidity would feel like. Even when some of my friends are supportive, they do not know what they are supporting. It bothers me.

We had sexual health education in high school, but it didn’t mention anything about gender identity. It only covered some basic biology and basic reminders about safe sex. We don’t have any mandatory course about gender identity or anything else LGBTQ+ related here at my university. There are courses related to that, but we aren’t required to take them.

I am sort-of out to people now. I’ll usually tell people if they ask me, but I never made a public post or anything like that. One of my friends from high school was the first person who knew it. At that time, I was learning about gender identity through some online articles and different platforms. One of my friends was on the same platform, and we started to talk about it. Then, I came out to my parents. I just really wanted them to get to know more about me and see me for who I am, but it didn’t work out that way. They still don’t really accept it. The way that my mom reacted was better than my dad. She was confused but she is trying to understand it. My dad was just really upset. It is kind of weird because he supports LGBT rights politically, but he will not support his own child for being a genderfluid person.

My parents and I speak both English and Chinese to each other. They speak mostly Chinese to me, but I speak mostly English back. I never really knew how to express can the concept of gender fluidity in Chinese. I needed to explain this word to my parents, since this wasn’t something that they have heard. They think I should just try to act like a “normal” person, and I should just try to fit in more. I don’t know whether that's worth it, but it does mean I feel like I have less freedom at home.

A lot of people say coming out is always a good thing, but I don't think that's true. If you do not feel comfortable coming out to anyone, then that's a valid personal choice. It is up to the individual whether coming out makes you feel better or not. In the end, only how you actually feel matters.

To me, my gender identity is part of who I am, but only a small one. For science, it is a big part of who I am. I believe in scientific reasoning; that people should not judge new ideas based on the ideas that they already have, because there is no other way to learn. The whole point of scientific research is that we do not know everything, and we are wrong about something, so we have to keep learning. To bring this to the scale of the individual, if you are not ready to realize some of your ideas are wrong, you are never going to grow.

Ari

My name is Ari. I’m assigned male at birth, am genderqueer, and my pronouns are they/them/their.

In 2014 I started to reevaluate my gender after moving to Seattle and being drawn to communities of trans and gender non-conforming people. I’m out to everyone in my life at this point, and I’ve found that strangers have started to take my style of dress as a hint.

I’ve grown more confident in my body since obtaining gender affirming surgery in 2016 and learned to enjoy the changes in public perception of my gender based on environment and clothing.

I’ve considered taking California up on their offer of a third gender marker on my driver's license I hesitate to give up my male privilege. I pass as a cisgender man when I wear masculine clothing, without risk of my ID giving me away.

I want to get government out of the business of recording gender on IDs, and into improving the quality of life for other demographics.

Rabeya

My name is Rabeya. I am a fourth-year student at Cal. I was assigned male at birth. I identify as a non-binary and gender non-confirming person. My gender pronouns are they and them. Gender pronouns are pretty important to me personally. When people use the pronouns that I request, I feel validated, I feel like they respect me.

Starting from the end of high school, or the beginning of college, I realized my gender identity was different from my assigned sex at birth. I think I felt like that when I was 5 or 6 years old, but I was taught that I was a man because of my genitalia. I tried to convince myself that I was a man for about 10 to 12 years. I thought I was a guy, and I did not question anything. But I also did not understand what gender identity meant, so I wasn’t sure what to question, because I did not know what that term meant. I think I only learned more terms after I got into college.

We did not really have sexual health education when we were in high school. We had a health class taught by a man, and he seemed to feel ashamed to talk about sexuality. It was a joke, and no one really talked about sexual health issues. I did not know what transgender identity was at that time. I did not have the language to know what that word meant. Only when I was in college and people said, “Oh, do you think you are gender fluid or something else?” I did not know what that was, and they told me it was a gender identity. So I would say I started to figure out more about my gender identity once I got into college.

I was surrounded by a lot of toxic guys when I was in high school. It was my LGBTQ friends from high school who supported me in wearing women’s clothes and figuring out my gender identity. I believed I belonged to the LGBTQ community because they were the people who accepted me. They know me, and I trust them.

I came out to my parents recently. I did it over text because I was scared. I didn’t want to tell them in person, since they didn’t accept me when I was figuring out my gender expression. Though I didn’t know the term transgender, and I could not explain anything to them, they found out I was dressing in women’s clothes and they did not like it. Right now, I keep sending them resources to read, and I feel better after telling them things related to my queerness.

I don’t plan to do any surgery, I think I am okay with the genitalia that I have. However, I may start taking hormone therapy. I am on the school insurance plan right now, and it will be cheaper than getting it outside of the school system.

I don’t really feel safe to go to the public restroom. If there is a unisex restroom, I may go to that. If there is none of it, I may go to the women’s restroom. No one has said anything, but I get very nervous. A lot of times I’m worried that cisgender people might judge me or look at me weirdly. I don’t know whether people will deny my existence in public.

People have a lot of stereotypes about us. Many people wrongly think that trans women are just men who like wearing women’s clothes. They think we are just men hiding in the shadows. There is also a big stereotype that trans women are only sex workers and nothing else. It is true that many trans women of color are sex workers because they have been kicked out of their homes and are not able to find other jobs. They are chased by the police, and they aren’t being protected at workplaces. However, transgender people are so much more than those hard experiences. In order to improve the living standard of the transgender people, the government should legalize sex work.

Many cisgender people think we are mentally ill or we have mental disorders. Just because we think about gender identity in different ways does not mean we are mentally ill. It does not mean we don’t deserve mental health care. We are human, we deserve as many rights as cisgender people do. We like to do many things. Please stop making stereotypes about us, please stop discriminating against us, and please portray us in a better way in media.

For the TGNC folks, just keep fighting, and also look out for your mental health. It is very tiring to focus on advocacy work—we have to look out for each other.

Trang

My name is Trang. I am a student of life. I am interested in how we can create a more collective world. I am learning things about worker co-ops. I like playing sports, I like watching dancing shows, and I love to freestyle dance.

My assigned sex at birth is female. However, my gender identity is non-binary, and I am a queer. My gender pronoun is they; in Vietnamese, it is chanh. I was first introduced to gender pronouns when I was in college. Using the correct gender pronouns means you are acknowledging our existence and going outside of what you are taught is right.

I always knew about my queerness. I don’t fit into any gender roles that society has put upon me. For me, I believe the gender binary is socially constructed. The gender binary is violence. It is created to put people into groups and it reflects power positions. I think gender identity, or the way that we live should be very free and expressive.

I first came out in high school when I was in my senior year. At that time, I really hesitated. Even though I said it, I didn’t fully accept myself. It wasn’t until college that I was able to explore different identities in LGBTQ community. When I had the space to learn more about different ways that people could express themselves, the term that fit me most is queer.

It is hard for me to give up my identity of being the eldest daughter. There are different expectations in an immigrant family. I tried to be the daughter that my parents wanted me to be. It took me years to finally let go and heal myself from that, and I started to embrace myself as a nonbinary person. It is a continuous journey.

The first time that I came out to my mom was in 2011. I felt like I wasn’t ready. One day, we were doing laundry and she said, “oh, when you grow up and when you have a husband…” I stopped her, and I asked, “Mom, what if I do not marry a guy? What if I want to get married with a girl?” “Are you crazy?”

I started crying and then she cried, too. “What happened to the guy that you were seeing in high school?” She started bringing up things from the past, and she blamed my coming out on how I was hanging out with too many gay people, and going to San Francisco all the time. She thought I was being affected by a lot of external influences. It was like an environmental disease.

I told her: “Mom, I knew it since I was in Vietnam, the only difference is that I have the courage to tell you now.” Emotionally, I was not mature enough to explain more. We didn’t have conversations about it until later on. I didn’t really tell my dad: it was my mom who called him and told him. When I saw my dad, he didn’t say anything to me. He didn’t look me in the eyes for a really long time, and that really hurt me. I had a pretty good relationship with my parents when I was growing up. I think coming out shifted our relationship a little bit. My dad had a really strong reaction, but he also could get over it eventually.

The difficulties at that time of my coming out influenced the way that my parents were raising my younger brother. My brother was free and outgoing, and he could freely express himself. We were okay with it, but then my parents became very careful of the way he expressed himself. One day, he was having fun and walking a catwalk. My aunt said to my mom, “Hey, why you are not doing anything? You should fix him, or he will turn out like the other.” A lot of those comments happened then, and they really silenced me. It was very hard for me to have conversations with my parents about gender and sexuality face-to-face. There were so many emotions. Even after I came out, I did not fully express myself until 2016.

To me, queerness is a blessing in terms of how I want to love and care about others, and how it allows me to be more loving and compassionate. I expressed that to my parents and said how I felt hurt by them. That really shifted our family dynamic. They started to appreciate the work that I’m doing, and they understand my queerness better. I can invite my friends to come over, and I feel safe with them there.

Sometimes I still feel frustrated. There is still so much violence based on gender identity and sexual orientation. There is still a lot of discrimination. There is still a lot more work that needs to be done. It is important for us to talk more about gender liberation and the gender spectrum. I think there is always an issue about safety, but in this place that we have each other, we can help and embrace each other.

I am really proud of the way that we are able to live our true self, I am really proud that the elder generation has created a pathway so I can now express myself and share my identity. We can continue to be as badass or shiny as we want to be!

For me to say that I am a non-binary person, that I am genderqueer and that my pronouns are they/them is all so empowering. It’s in more recent years that I have really embraced these identities.

Phibi

My chosen name is Phibi, but my legal name is Philip. I was assigned male at birth. I identify as a pansexual gender non-conforming person. I mainly use thxy/thxm pronouns, but use he/him/his when I have to. For me, gender pronouns such as he/him and she/her connotate a lot so I use thxy/thxm instead.

I was born in San Diego and my parents are both from Sài Gòn, Việt Nam. I think I identify more as Vietnamese American rather than Asian American. Asian American is a lot better than oriental, but Asian American is often thought of in terms of East Asians such as Chinese, Japanese, and Koreans. It is not always centred on Southeast Asians like myself or South Asians. I am proud to be Vietnamese American. There is no separation of the two and they are both equally as valid. I am not just Vietnamese or just American, I am Vietnamese American.

I first began to confront gender norms at a young age when I asked my aunt, cousins, and mom if I could join them in painting their nails. They said that I could only paint my toenails and that it had to be hidden. There was one occasion as a young child where I woke up early in the morning to try on my mom’s clothing. I went undercover until I could experiment with a gender bender day for Spirit Week, during a high school program I was a part of. I could not really explore anymore because I lived with my father and I was constrained by finances. Eventually, I did learn how to do my makeup when I participated in a school district wide drag show. When I went to college, I felt more free to experiment with gender expression. I would often go to Buffalo Exchange to get all of my clothing.

Just having a gender identity that is beyond cisgender or even the gender binary can be terrifying. It feels like your whole world could collapse. There is the fear of not falling in love, not getting married, not having kids, being rejected from social circles, fear of safety, and not being able to do certain things that require legal documents. I have been harassed on the street before but it is really just men who are insecure about their masculinity. They internalize from a young age that somehow anything associated with femininity is inferior, so they hold on this toxic masculinity by avoiding their emotions and attacking femmes. I have personally never been physically confronted, but of course my mental health still takes a dip. It makes me feel afraid to really be authentic so I often resort to going undercover in my cisgendered male disguise.

Even when I am with my family, I stay undercover, especially because of language barriers. The pronouns/terms of address in Vietnamese are often so gendered that it feels so weird when someone calls me “anh.” During a dinner with other QTViệt people, I learned about “chanh” as a gender neutral pronoun and that just blew my mind.

I haven’t successfully come out to my parents before. I have tried multiple times, but it has always turned out badly because of language barriers. How am I supposed to explain my gender identity without using words other than “man” or “woman?” Recently, I have been trying to introduce my father to the term “non-binary.” My parents are very much aware that my gender expression fluctuates since I have them on social media, but someday I want to be able to fully come out to them.

When it comes to being TGNC, a lot of folks have a general idea of what transgender is, but not gender non-conforming. GNC is very much misunderstood and excluded, but our existence redefines gender. For many, their first exposure to a transgender person may be Caitlyn Jenner. Some folks will say “it is 2018. Transgender people are doing better.” However, black trans women are being killed every year. If the only trans women that are allowed to be alive are white trans women, then is everything really better? There is so much work to be done to achieve justice for transgender and gender non-conforming folks.

I think justice should be more than just a one-time solution. It should be intergenerational and sustained through generations. That is why I want to push for a public K-12 education where students become aware of their own identities and celebrate identity. I want classes where they debunk myths about gender. I want ethnic studies and gender/sexuality & women’s studies. If we can learn about math, science, and reading through different grade levels, we can learn about our own hxstories and empower ourselves throughout different grade levels too.

I am currently APIENC’s 2018-2019 MOVE Fellow, and I am working on a book called Together, We Bloom. It is intended to help TGNC youth around my age to contextualize their upbringing, empower them to find their own identity, ground them in TGNC hxstory, provide them mental health tips, and connect them with community resources. The theme is based off the lotus flower growing through mud as an unlabeled seed, growing through rain, blooming in the sun, and finally restarting the cycle with seeds once again.

Together, We Bloom is intended to help the reader explore gender identity and find an identity that they resonate with. However, I personally find that labels can sometimes be exclusive and limiting. There is no one right way to look queer and just because you are cisgender, doesn’t mean you cannot help your transgender siblings. I think that labels are a good starting point, but it is up to us to define our identities.

My message to the public is that just because gay marriage has passed does not mean that we are done with LGBTQIA+ rights. I get that gender can be confusing, but that does not mean you shouldn’t take the time to educate yourself about it. Don’t go up to a queer or transgender person and just interrogate them. Have these conversations naturally, use pronouns, and leverage your privilege to help others. You cannot change your privileges, just how much you oppress. It is important to question things we are taught. We may have learned things when we were young and it might not appear to hurt anyone, but you cannot always see the people who are oppressed when you hold privilege.

Finally for my fellow TGNC folks, make good use of your time and energy because it is not always worth it to call out someone unless you have the emotional labor to do so. Gender is a journey and healing from trauma can be an ongoing nonlinear process. Practice wellness through eating, sleeping, exercising, socializing, and doing what you love. Be with the people who love and support you because they are lucky to have you in their lives. Our existence and just being alive means a lot. We’re more than just statistics and no matter how much discrimination we have to endure, we have a long hxstory of resistance. And the hxstory will not end soon because we’re not going to stop fighting.

Eddie

My name is Eddie. I was assigned female at birth. I identify as a man and a transman. My gender pronouns are he/him. To me, using the right pronouns honors my masculine spirit and the man I live as in the world.

I have an early memory of looking in the mirror as a child. I knew that one day I would go through puberty, and I tried to imagine developing a womanly figure. But I simply could not. That image seemed totally impossible to me. Growing up I was not forced to be very feminine until high school, when my mom became very involved in how I looked. She cared a lot about female appearances, and she was always expressing in different ways how she expected women, and therefore me, to look. I disliked the way my clothes hugged my waist and accentuated my hips and bust. I never felt comfortable in my skin. But I really wanted to please my mom, so I tried very hard to become the feminine woman she expected. I became very self-conscious about my appearance and obsessed over ways to become like the slender, graceful types my mom adored. But no matter what, I always felt ugly.

When I went to college, I met so many people from diverse cultures and backgrounds and finally felt free to explore my sexuality and gender expression. I became part of the queer community on campus and came out as bisexual, then a lesbian. I cut my hair, I wore men’s clothing, I dropped my feminine façade and became uninhibitedly masculine in my behavior and roles. I did not know exactly what was driving me. I just did what made me feel more comfortable and confident. And when I looked into the mirror, I saw an image that was closer to what I saw in my head.

Among my group of young queers, we realized we were breaking “rules” of society. We embraced the whole range of expression in our search for ourselves. When one of my close friends began exploring transitioning from female to male, I became very curious and drawn to learning all about his journey. When he announced he was getting top surgery, I felt an intense pang of envy. It was like my body suddenly woke up. What seemed like a dream could actually become real. And in that moment, I knew that was what I needed. I was not thinking “I want to become a man”. I simply wanted my body to match what I see in my mind, and I was willing to do whatever it took to do that. And so, I began my own transitioning journey.

I got top surgery when I was 21. I hid my entire transition from my parents. I did not want them to worry about me or try to prevent me from doing what I needed to do. That year during Christmas break, I went home fully transitioned. Somehow, we managed to avoid talking about it for days. But finally, my parents, sister and me all sat around the kitchen table and confronted it. Rightfully, they were confused and upset. They asked question after question like, “What if you cannot find a job?” “What if you never find a partner?” and I tried to answer each as confidently as I could. But truthfully, I didn’t know either. I was scared, too, but I did not want to show it. They said I was selfish to do this without considering the effect on our family. I felt angry and ashamed. I tried to reassure them everything would be fine, but they believed I screwed up my life.

Over the years, they became much more supportive. I worked hard to prove to them that I was able to make a living and find love. And they could see how much more fulfilled I have become. Now I feel closer to them than ever before because they finally see and accept the real me.

To me, coming out is a process of many conversations. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t always come out to people the first time I meet them. I may not even come out the tenth time I meet them. Being trans is not something that I hide or show-off. I would never deny being a transman, but I am discerning with whom I share that part of me. Even though it has been 14 years since my transition, I am still healing and growing in that area.

For the transgender community, I want to say: Never stop questioning and growing. Living in this society as a transgender person means being subjected to countless pressures, projections, assumptions, and misunderstandings. Being committed to living authentically requires constant reflection and self-discovery. The journey begins again and again at the moments you realize that you still question whether you are accepted or loved. But donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t ever stop there. Keep walking.

Jojo

My name is JoJo. My gender pronouns are they/them and he/him. I am a trans, queer Filipinx.

When people use the correct pronouns, I feel like I am visible and heard. Pronouns are simple and short words, but they hold so much weight. When someone uses the wrong pronouns, I feel like I am invisible and invalidated.

Growing up, I always knew that I was “different.” I thought being “different” was wrong and that I needed to hide that part of myself from everyone. I first learned about the word transgender from my high school peers who were openly out. I was not out yet at that time, but I was able to have conversations around the LGBTQ community and the different identities. This opened a door for me. I was going through a lot of changes and hardships during that part of my life. It felt scary and I didn’t know what was going to happen. I was disconnected from my friends and family; with my mind and body.

I recently came out as trans to my parents. They still have a hard time with it, but I know they are happy for me. At the end of the day, they just want me to be happy. I am glad and fortunate that they are supportive—I know that is not always the case for everybody.

Being trans has shaped me and taught me a lot. There are many hardships and difficulties. It is tough and scary to be openly out. But at the end of the day, I am happy and proud to be trans.

People wrongly believe that trans people have to look a certain way and act a certain way. Every TGNC person has their own definitions of their TGNC identity, and that is what makes being TGNC so unique and beautiful. It looks different for all of us. I get to choose my own labels. I am me. I am who I am. My identity will never be changed by others.

Currently, I am in the process of having my name and gender marker change on all of my legal documents. The hardest part of the process for me was deciding on a new name. Transgender people have always been here. In the past, our history has been erased and people are still trying to erase it, but we are not going to let that happen. We will continue fighting for that visibility, we will continue to be seen and heard. Our existence is resistance.

Today, the trans and gender non-conforming community face many barriers. Our resilience helps us overcome prejudice, discrimination, and violence. Our wisdom and knowledge guide us as we navigate the multiple institutions that were not created for us. We are more than numbers and statistics; we are contributors and leaders in our communities. We are a community that is here for one another to be brave and vulnerable; to support and uplift each other to heal and grow. We will not be quiet and back down until we are included with full equity.

ABOUT APIENC APIENC is an organization for and by queer and trans Asian and Pacific Islander people. We build our power and increase the visibility of our communities. Through organizing, we inspire and train leaders, establish intergenerational connections, and document and disseminate our histories.

Want to get involved? Create art? Build culture? Shift movements? - Email: info@apienc.org - Instagram: @APIENC

Thank you to all the TGNC people who shared their stories. Thank you to our trans ancestors for your work, and thank you to everyone who continues to imagine new worlds.