On The Importance of Conscious Visibility

By Jessica Hicklin (MO)

For many years I have turned the pages of my calendar, wondering every year as I scan through the month of March, “What the hell is the point of Trans Day of Visibility (TDOV)? I’m loud, proud and trans everyday. Doesn’t that make everyday TDOV?”

It took me many years to realize the foolishness of this belief. What’s worse, reflection on my own journey to the woman I am today confirms just how wrong I really was.

For example, in the early days of my journey, as I hid in the proverbial closet, I found the visibility of Jazz Jennings, Chelsea Manning and Caitlyn Jenner life saving. In fact, “If they can do it I can” became the silently uttered mantra that kept me strong as I provided the obligatory answers to the ridiculous questions time and again, “Yes, my name really is Jessica,” “No, I’m not gay and confused,” and “Yes, my life really does depend on this.”

The visibility of these strong trans women became the light that led me out of my darkness. As I struggled against officials who reduced my struggle for life to a simple, “the constitution doesn’t guarantee the right to lipstick and panties to any one,” it was these women’s visibility that drove away that oppressive darkness for me. Therefore, I venture that TDOV is not just another day of being trans but instead, is a day to celebrate the strength of visibility in our beautiful trans family. It is a day to celebrate that strength in ourselves as well, to recognize the light we hope to shine for the rest of our family still stuck in the darkness that we have all known at one time.

Of course, if we are to speak of becoming visible in a way that brings hope, strength and light to our family, we must take a second to consider what it means to be visible in such a way. In particular, we must learn to cast a light with our visibility while remaining mindful of the shadow we cast. Of course, it is no surprise that I made mistakes in this department.

In fact, as news of my fight for trans healthcare (Hicklin v. Precynthe) grew and people began to refer to me as, “Mother”... to speak of my visibility as a light in the dark, I made the mistake of thinking that just being a visible trans woman was all I needed to do for my family. To just be seen as trans and unafraid was, I hoped, all I had to do to help others out of the darkness.

At the time, I did not realize how hurtfully mistaken I was. Yes, several women expressed that my visibility was a source of strength for them but, many more indicated that the shadow cast by my visibility was oppressive. Not in so many words mind you. Instead, more and more I began to hear comments about “real” boobs and “that hair down to your ass,” not in endearing terms but as expressions of envy and otherness.

When I finally understood what my family was saying to me, I was horrified. Horrified to realize that where once I was able to speak of togetherness and being heard, to convey the message of sameness and of the beauty of the truth in the light, I now found myself speaking to individuals who could not relate to me. They did not know me and did not feel anything like me. They did not know my past, they did not know my journey... they did not knew the depths of the ugliness of my prison of maleness before I had finally escaped. They only knew of the woman they see in the papers and hear about second hand. That woman that even I am struggling still to become.

Shame on me for forgetting my journey, where I came from. For forgetting the days where I once expressed that same envy and sense of otherness, where I felt so deeply in the core of my being, “I’ll never be a Jazz...” that I nearly gave up not only the struggle for my truth but the struggle for my very existence.

Thankfully, the loving kindness of a very good friend helped me understand a simple truth that saved me. The truth, “Those people are an example of ‘a’ way to be trans, not ‘the’ way to be trans. You are your own light, amazing and beautiful in your own way.”

She was right, and ever since that simple truth became a part of my life I have endeavored to make my visibility “a light”, not “the light” for my family. Her message has become my message of visibility to my family. We are all beautiful, perfectly trans in our own way.

As I encourage my family to celebrate this upcoming Trans Day of Visibility with me... to be there standing tall and proud in order to push back the darkness that seeks to encroach upon our joy and imprison those yet to be freed from the dark I implore us all to do so consciously. To remember that while we are bright and beautiful truths, expressing our transness, we are an example of “a way” to be trans, not “the way.”

Besides, how boring would it be if all of our lights were the same? Perhaps only slightly less than if our lights didn’t shine at all.