I’m Latino-American and I grew up watching a lot of telenovelas with my mom. The only transgender character I ever saw on these soap operas was murdered when she was outed to her ex-boyfriend.
For a while, that was all I knew, and I remember worrying, “Is this how I’m going to end up?” I didn’t know the term “transgender” or “transsexual.” I just knew that I never felt comfortable in the sex I was assigned at birth.
It wasn’t until the tenth grade that I learned it was possible to become a trans man. That people assigned female at birth could transition into becoming a man. I remember lying in bed one night thinking that I might be trans, and I felt so relieved to finally have a name for what I felt inside.
When I attended the Pride parade for the first time this week, I was longing to feel a deep sense of community, but I actually felt more like a spectator looking in.
Pride seemed more like Gay Pride. White same-sex couples celebrating being gay. I didn’t see many transgender people on the stages and floats. Sure, I saw drag queens, but drag queens aren’t trans people. And the all of the nudity and alcohol make young people like me feel uncomfortable.