Today is Transgender Day of Visibility. And, as I do on most days, I have many feelings.
On the one hand, I want nothing more than your (our) visibility. I want us to be everywhere. I don’t want anyone to be able to go anywhere without knowing that there is a trans person there with them; without knowing that respecting us is not just an expectation, it is a demand.
On the other hand, visibility should never be a prerequisite for your existence. You have always already deserved existence, survival, happiness. We shouldn’t have to go to the Supreme Court to be able to use the bathroom. We shouldn’t have to leave our homes, we shouldn’t have to let lawyers speak for us, and, more than anything, we shouldn’t have to die. Our worth should not be predicated on how visible we are.
I came to law school because trans people are my home. Because I will choose trans people every time, without question and without apology. Because I wanted to be useful to this community that gives me everything every day. Law school might absolutely be the right choice for you, and it might be the right choice for you for any one of an infinite number of reasons. Maybe you are looking for a way to be useful. Maybe you are trying to figure out how to protect the environment, or maybe you want to be a judge. As long as the reason is right for you, it is not wrong.
But if you decide to do this immense thing anyways, know that you are needed, even when it feels like you aren’t. Know that you are powerful, important, and worthy, regardless of how visible you are or aren’t.
You are not wrong.
And, if you don’t come to law school, you are still not wrong. Law school is hard. It was not designed for us, and it is reluctant (at best) to remold itself to fit us. You will most likely have to hide parts of yourself (literally and figuratively) every time you use the bathroom. Every time a professor tells you that “they” is a plural pronoun. Every time you remember that this fight we are in does not begin or end with bathrooms and pronouns; it begins and ends with our lives.
I am reminded of these things every time I read the law and realize that this instrument, this tool, was never meant for us. It was never meant to fight in the ways we fight, never meant to change in the ways we change, never meant to mourn in the ways we mourn, never meant to be personal in the way that everything is personal to us.
In short: the law does not deserve you, so never feel bad or guilty or anything less than entirely valid for choosing something or someone that does.
But if you decide to do this immense thing anyways, know that you are needed, even when it feels like you aren’t. Know that you are powerful, important, and worthy, regardless of how visible you are or aren’t. Know that there are trans lawyers already existing in the world who have let me cry in the hallway because I never thought I would meet a non-binary lawyer, but there they were, standing right in front of me. These lawyers have bought me lunch, asked me if I wanted to get coffee, and reminded me both of my ability to leave this place, and all the reasons why I won’t.
And they—we—will do the same for you, not because you have decided to be a lawyer, not because law school is hard, and not because you are (or are not) visible, but because this is one way we fight, one way we change, one way we mourn, one way we remind ourselves how personal this is. Because you deserve to have a community with you no matter what. Because we all need to cry sometimes and drink coffee and eat lunch. Because you are worthy, visible or not.
No matter what you decide about law school, no matter how visible you are, know that we are rooting for you every day. Without question and without apology; with a ferocity only we understand.
Sincerely,
Cam and Jasper
