The observance serves as an annual opportunity to remember those who have been killed as a result of transphobia. According to the LGBTQ+ advocacy group Human Rights Campaign, at least 26 transgender and gender-non-conforming people have been killed this year. Among them are LaKendra Andrews, a 26-year-old Black woman and non-profit founder from Shreveport, Louisiana; YOKO, a DJ and artist from New Orleans; Chyna Long, a 30-year-old Black woman and dance choreographer from Milwaukee; and Luis Angel Diaz Castro, a Department of Education employee from Puerto Rico.
None of them were local to the Hudson Valley, but Board President Willie Morris says the region’s transgender community experiences fear and violence all the same. They see the vigil as an opportunity to provide healing and increase awareness.
"I hope that [participants] take away the understanding that they can be not just advocates, people talking, but people of action to support trans people that they may not even know are in their lives," says Morris.
Phoenix Laxton, a program assistant at the Center, says he also wanted the ceremony to reflect on and celebrate the broader trans experience.
22-year-old Jester Garcia is a member of the Center’s Early Gen-z Queer Hangout group. Assigned female at birth, Garcia says he has grappled with his identity for much of his life, but now he is ready to celebrate it. When he first came out as trans in middle school, Garcia says he received so much pushback that he temporarily detransitioned and switched schools as a result. Coming out a second time, Garcia decided he was going to do things “right,” and became dead-set on “passing” as a cis man.
"The average trans person needs to assimilate into society, and maybe I should name myself something really normal like 'Kevin.' And I should shave my head and start wearing polo shirts," says Garcia. "Yeah, that'll get me accepted into society, because then I'll be a 'real' trans guy. [My pronouns will be] 'he/him,' we're gonna be really normal this time...and I crashed."
At the end of the day, that didn’t feel right either— and Garcia says that’s OK. Clad in a bright yellow jumpsuit with star stickers dotting his face, Garcia says he’s learned over time that there is no right or wrong way to be trans. He wants others to know they don’t have to fit inside the gender binary to make others more comfortable.
"Adhering to arbitrary rules like this are something that can be necessary for survival. But we're not looking to survive, we’re looking to thrive," says Garcia. "And I feel like doing things out of the ordinary, the things that you are — that is an act of defiance. And it’s a necessary act of defiance."
On that note, Laxton set aside time during the vigil to share tips and resources with allies and members of the community. Strewn across the tables in the room are lists of grief and mental health counselors, as well as a map tracking legislation restricting trans people across all 50 states. A small pamphlet offers gender neutral alternatives for words like “Ma’am,” and “Sir,” and tips on how to talk about the transgender community in a way that isn’t dehumanizing. For example, using sentences like “He is trans,” or “She is a transgender woman,” rather than using "transgender" as a noun or verb, like “He is a transgender.”
When introducing yourself to new people, Laxton says it helps to be forthcoming about your own pronouns, whether you’re cis or trans, as it can take the burden off the person you’re speaking with to decide whether or not to come out to you by disclosing theirs. Laxton says the concept of asking for pronouns can be a complicated subject among some members of the community who prioritize “passing,” but overall, he’d like to see the practice normalized, with an emphasis on asking everyone their pronouns, not just “trans looking people.”
"Whenever someone asks me my pronouns, I'm very delighted that they asked me. But if you ask me, and then you mess up, I do get hurt," says Laxton. "You know, sometimes you gotta self-reflect. To be an ally, you have to sit with yourself and you have to analyze, 'OK, how do I see this person? Do I see this person as their identity?'"
Morris and Laxton say the Center is in the process of rebuilding after its own reckoning with allegations of racism and transphobia over the past few years. In early 2020, community members and other organizations called out the Center for a lack of diversity in its overall culture and leadership, as well as issues with accessibility, misgendering trans people, competing with other organizations, and hoarding resources. Laxton says the Center, which has been around since 2005, currently only has a few people on its payroll, but they plan to start hiring in the coming months, with an emphasis on diversity. According to Morris, the board has selected a new executive director, to be announced soon.
For Garcia, though, simply being a part of the Center’s hangouts the past few years has been rewarding. While to some, going to the Center and playing MarioKart with friends, or attending a drag-themed Halloween party, might seem like an insignificant, if fun, thing. But Garcia says, even at its base level, the Center provides something that is monumental.
"That is connection, that is expression, that is sharing art with people who are like you," says Garcia. "And it’s just, I feel, one of the most important things."
