What Pride Means to Me

Happy Pride! Last month, I had the privilege of speaking to a group of students at a local community college on the subject of pride. The following is the text of my remarks.

Happy Mini Pride, everyone! My name is Kassie, I'm trans, and I use she/her pronouns. I want to thank the West Valley College Center for Identity, Exploration and Identity and the LGBTQ+ Youth Space Speaker's Bureau for inviting me here today.

I was asked to speak on the topic "what pride means to me," and that's not an easy question for me because I have a tendency to get stuck finding the right word with the right meaning for what I'm trying to say. I used to be the sort of pedantic person who thought I should only be proud of earned accomplishments, and that even then it would be somehow arrogant or vain to be proud of whatever middle-of-the-road skills, and talents I possessed. So I can't say that I had much of what we hew-mans call pride And for a lot of my life I didn't have the language or awareness to understand where this lack of pride, this absence of self-esteem was coming from. Because it's hard to have pride when you're living in the closet.

I grew up in the 1960s and 70s when transgender people were seen as curiosities, jokes, or even monsters. I learned early on that wanting to be a girl was the worst thing a boy could want and that I needed to hide who I was and who I wanted to be. The opposite of pride is shame, and that I had that in bucket loads. I worked hard to make myself as invisible as possible. I couldn't take pride in my appearance. I had no sense of style. Maybe I still don't, but that's a topic for another time. And before I get too tragic, there are plenty of things in other parts of my life that I can feel proud about. I've had a career, and a family that loves and supports me. And my partner and I have raised a daughter who is a pretty great person.

But pride in the sense of belonging to a larger community that stands up for one another and celebrates together was something that eluded me. And even after I finally came out of the closet and started my transition at the tender age of 58, it took time to build up that sense of queer pride, like a muscle that I had never learned how to exercise. And so I've spent a lot of time parsing that word and all its various meanings.

For example, pride means being visible. Here's a true story about visibility. The morning after our country leapt into the abyss and elected a President who had relentlessly attacked trans people, I had just dropped my daughter off at school and I found myself parked outside the nearby Krispy Kreme. Like many of you, I was feeling depressed and scared, and like maybe some of you, I was thinking of self-medicating with a couple of original glazed. But I hesitated.

After all, here I was, a member of one of America's most hated out groups. Would someone accost me? Call me a monster? Tell me they didn't have to serve my kind any more? Should I de-transition or go into hiding? But before I could start spiraling, I gathered my courage and told myself, "I am a proud transgender woman buying donuts." And of course, the nice Krispy Kreme folks were happy to accommodate me.

Pride starts with self-acceptance. When I was ten years old, the other boy children all wanted to be Batman while I wanted to be Wonder Woman. And without the language we have today to understand being transgender, I didn't know what to do with that feeling except keep it hidden. When I learned that there were people who had actually changed their sex, it was mind blowing, but my own internalized transphobia kept me from considering the possibility of that for myself. It took decades and a number of bad therapists before I found someone who helped me understand myself and accept myself for who I am. I am transgender. And I'm proud to be transgender.

Pride takes strength. Not the shouty, bullying bombast that the current administration thinks is strength, but the fortitude to face down those bullies, those racists, those misogynists, homophobes, and transphobes. Pride takes strength and pride gives us strength. Our pride makes us strong, like another meaning of the word, a pride of lions. We together are lions.

Pride is political. Surviving and being visible are political acts. The federal government is making every effort to let queer people know that we are not welcome in American society. And even some of our so-called allies in government and the media are still blaming us for the rise of the right. They're telling us that we've gone too far, that we're responsible for Democratic losses, that we need to sit down, shut up, and go back into the closet. But we aren't going to do that. Because queer rights are human rights!

Finally, pride is being joyful. It's being all together here in each other's company in the sunshine sharing food and music. I confess I still have some trouble with the experiencing joy part, but I'm working on it. And I'm proud of all of you, and I'm very proud to be part of this community. Thank you.