For Trans Day of Visibility, 38 Transgender People Sound Off on Technology and Media

“Visibility should be about the things that make a person great.”
Image of ultiple trans pride flags wave in the breeze at a TDOV 2017 event
ROBYN BECK/AFP/Getty Images

March 31 is International Transgender Day of Visibility (TDOV), a holiday the trans community uses to celebrate being seen. The day is marked with events in places around the world as trans and gender non-conforming (GNC) people come together to celebrate being trans and what it means to be seen.

The issue of transgender visibility is complex and in a state of massive evolution. Despite historical examples of gender rebels, experiences outside of a cisgender binary have often been erased — sometimes intentionally. Despite this history, the last several decades have seen major gains in trans visibility as the Internet and social media have created more ways for trans people to connect, share their stories, and be visible.

I’m a 27-year-old transgender woman, and media played a big role in my ability to come out. It was a combination of four trans women who helped me. Magazine profiles and cover stories featuring Against Me! lead singer Laura Jane Grace, Orange Is the New Black star Laverne Cox, and former Olympian Caitlyn Jenner helped me see myself. The first friend I ever saw transition was Patti Harrison, who I met in college and who came out after we graduated on her way to taking the comedy world by storm.

Considering my own gender, I secretively joined online spaces that gave me a chance to express myself without worrying about outing myself. The power I found in connecting with other trans people gave me courage, provided me with advice, and directed me to resources I had no idea existed. I’ve been out for over three years now.

But my story is just one of so many. So I talked to 38 people with all sorts of trans and GNC identities, ranging in age from 15 to 58. I asked them what visibility means to them, what influenced their process, if there was a specific turning point they remember, and whether technology played a role in their coming out or transition. Here’s what they said.

Gia Parr | 15 | she/her/hers

Watching YouTube and seeing people such as Gigi Gorgeous and Jazz Jennings on a constant basis for months made me realize that all these feelings I’ve had during my life matched the description of the people I was watching. I officially came out at 13.

I could do a lot of research on the transition process because of technology. Even though technology helped me greatly, it also scared me. I realized with the support from people who knew me before I officially came out, this would be the right decision. When I did come out, I received a great amount of support from my town, school, and friends.

Landon | 16 | he/him/his

Choosing to be visible for many trans people is a privilege that we cannot ignore, and I hope that trans visibility helps to secure a tomorrow where visibility won’t be something revolutionary, where visibility will be safe for our trans siblings of color, where visibility will not cost us our jobs, our families, or our lives.

I remember attending a music summer camp before the seventh grade. On the final day, another attendee asked me whether or not I was transgender. I sat with this person and their friend (who told me they were both trans guys), and they showed me a trans man’s transition timeline video on YouTube. Had it not been for technology, I may not have come out.

Tru Wilson | 16 | she/her/hers

Visibility to me means that I am seen as more than just my label.

I had seen certain documentaries on TV that gave me the words to describe everything I was feeling. What made the idea of transness click for me was a documentary my mom showed me when I was nine. I saw the kids talking about their transition and how the felt before and after and I connected to them entirely. That’s what gave me the words and confidence to come out to my parents.

Ada | 17 | they/them/theirs

Visibility means having media that represents me, it means being out and proud, and most importantly, it means being seen and appreciated for who I am. Chelsea Manning's coming out sowed the seeds of doubt in my head, as up until that point I'd only seen trans-masculine people or heavily stereotyped trans women represented.

I'm not out in real life yet, so social media and the Internet have given me a sense of community, and I don't know what I'd do without that.

Lilly | 18 | they/them/theirs

Visibility is the first step for developing a society where our community is acknowledged and accepted. If we were to increase the representation of transgender individuals in these aspects, especially intersecting with other identities — sexuality, race, or ability, for example — I have no doubt that it would alleviate the pain and confusion that so many young trans people experience.

G Rodriguez | 18 | she/her/hers, he/him/his, or they/them/theirs

I am a visibly brown, low-income, Latinx, queer non-binary person. It's hard to even imagine a world where I can see that in books, TV, movies. Visibility means recognizing all of my many intersections in identity. Media doesn't show people like me, so I had to look elsewhere.

Hate to say it, but Tumblr (I am rolling my eyes at myself) helped me figure out what this community is, and where brown and black folks fit in. Nowadays, it’s more Twitter. Using Twitter helps me see that I am not 'too much' for having all these intersections in my identity.

Arabella Miller | 19 | she/her/hers

Growing up, I didn’t see any media that was in a positive light for trans folk. It was always the butt of a joke I didn’t understand, but it always made me feel horrible.

I was introduced to Tumblr around the time I was coming out at age 13, and that brought a whole wave of things I did not understand. It made it easier for me. There’s so much good that I can see, and I don’t feel like I’m just evil incarnate, as I did constantly being bombarded with other media.

Mike/Delaney K. | 19 | he/him/his or they/them/theirs

Visibility means being able to turn on the television and see a trans character existing for no reason other than trans people already exist. It means being able to go outside and not be assumed cis because I present quite femininely.

I remember being about 14 when Leelah Alcorn died, and having followed her Tumblr and grown up near her, I became determined to transition. I’m almost 100% socially out.

Oliver Whong | 19 | he/him/his

When I was growing up and wrestling with my identity, there were no healthy representations of trans men, let alone trans men of color, feminine trans men, non-binary trans men, disabled trans men, or any trans characters outside of a cis lens.

When I was in early high school, I watched every short film centered around trans men I could find. Connecting with the two other trans people at my high school was the only thing that made me feel like I could come out. I had authority figures in my life telling me I was not actually trans, so having someone who understood what I was feeling made a world of difference.

Gab Rima | 20 | they/them/theirs

I attached myself to characters that I felt defied gender norms. Seeing Kurt Hummel on Glee be fearlessly androgynous was a turning point for me.

The Internet shaped my entire identity formation and coming-out process. I learned about the trans community online, as I did not meet any trans people offline until my senior year of high school. Without the online trans community, I would still be closeted, confused, and incredibly isolated in Nebraska.

M. Hoover of Ganymede | 20 | he/him/his or they/them/theirs

Visibility is complicated for me. I benefit from other people's visibility, and I try to be visible online, but outside my apartment, I still live as a girl. I want visibility for fem trans men, soft trans men.

I don't remember any media that taught me about being trans. I loved any tomboy character I came across, though.

Ojo | 20 | they/them/their

The lack of trans visibility I experienced when I was younger definitely did delay my transition process. Representation more or less tells you what being trans is, but visibility gives trans people a voice. I'm endlessly grateful to and for social media, especially because I was homeschooled.

Jenni Holtz | 21 | they/them/their

Media was extremely influential in my identity realization. I was always into Mulan, Motocrossed, and She's the Man. I think watching those movies were the first moments I saw something on a screen that made me think, "That's me."

I remember sitting in my college freshman dorm room and watching YouTube videos about transitioning. I wrote a note on my computer that day. It said "I'm trans. Today is the day I came out to myself." Without the Internet, I'm not sure I would have the language that reflects who I am.

Christian Kennedy | 22 | they/them/their

I understand visibility in the sense of feeling seen correctly by those around me. In media, visibility is seeing realistic portrayals of queer folks — and trans and non-binary folks of color, especially. These representations need to come from trans creators to feel like visibility.

Discovering my non-binary identity clicked when I started to wear whatever I wanted. It made the masculinity boxing me in and the femininity I had always tried to suppress seem trivial.

I remember pointing out to people in my life that Jaden Smith was wearing skirts. It offered some understanding to the elementary-schooler secretly trying on dresses and high heels before their parents got home after school.

Noah Zazanis | 23 | he/him/his

It can mean a lot to see people like you surviving and thriving and provide a model of possibilities. But sometimes visibility can mean legibility to systems that harm us.

I was lucky that transness was normalized for me early on. What made me realize I was a trans guy was dating a cis man for the first time in my life. I wanted to be dating men as a queer man and wouldn't be comfortable until the world perceived me that way. I think gender is often worked out relationally like that!

Camden | 23 | they/them/their

Visibility corresponds with normalization, which ideally means that being trans becomes safer. Every bit of visibility is a victory that gives me more peace of mind. I didn't know that transgender people existed until I was around 14.

My classmates referred to me as a boy until we started going through puberty. All of the adults in my life just chalked those years up to being a phase or being a tomboy, and I listened. When the news about Leelah Alcorn's death came out in 2014, the anger and sadness I felt in response made everything click. I wish it didn't take Leelah's death to give me that perspective.

I came out as gay in high school when I was 15 and lost all of my friends. I turned to online communities. I would definitely say that social media had a negative impact on me when I was younger, but as I got older, the Internet became a tool I had just been using the wrong way before.

Emmet Nahil | 23 | he/him/his

Being visible means being active and vocal regardless of any danger I might face being out, trans, and Middle Eastern. Nobody is inherently admirable, but being visible means that younger trans folks have someone to look at and say, “I can do it, too.”

Just hearing people talk about their transition on social media has been the most useful tool in validating my feelings. It's opened some of us up to harassment, but social media is making everyone more informed than ever before on the fluidity of gender and identity.

Ana Valens | 25 | she/her/hers

Visibility is about more than just representation. When I was graduating from college, I bought Casey Plett's A Safe Girl to Love. Casey's stories are all about trans women, for trans women. That was the first moment I felt seen in a book. Visibility is not about having cis people trying to interpret what it's like to be trans.

While the Internet can be an atrocious place, I think it's brought the trans community together in a way that no other technology has in the past. The Internet is so important to our contemporary history, and I'm grateful for it.

Delilah Orizaba | 25 | she/her/hers

I had a middle school teacher named Mr. Sanchez, and he was this cool Latinx guy. Halfway through the year, someone said, “Mr. Sanchez used to be Mrs. Sanchez.” He explained to us that the rumor was true when I was 14.

When I started questioning my gender, I went to YouTube and the Internet. I struggled as a person of color. I wanted to see representation of trans women of color.

Technology was a source to have the beginning little baby information. Not only have I gained that information, but I’ve been able to share my story with others through social media. I’m all about paying it forward.

Alex Petkanas | 26 | they/them/theirs

Recently someone mentioned to me that he understood what "non-binary" meant and how "they/them" pronouns work because of the character Taylor Mason on Billions, played by Asia Kate Dillon. Because there is representation, people who might not have non-binary people in their personal circles still have a reference point. It is essential that we have different kinds of non-binary representation, so people don't assume non-binary just looks like skinny, androgynous, white people.

These have always been my feelings about my gender. I'm just now putting it into words. The final push for me came from a friend who heard me say over and over, "I wish I used they/them pronouns" and "I wish my name were Alex" until they reminded me that it was perfectly OK to make those changes.

Ash | 26 | she/her/hers

Visibility is about knowledge. A lot of my friends had that knowledge when I came out. For others, it becomes my job to teach.

I'm from an Indian background, and the meager handful of Hindi movies I saw with trans people (or hijras, as they're known there) depicted them as side characters often used for comedic effect. I probably never saw trans people depicted as actual people until Laverne Cox on Orange Is the New Black.

I was active on Tumblr in high school, and that was how I learned the basics. It was stuff I'd never been told before.

Alex Smith | 27 | they/them/theirs

Visibility is something that I personally struggle with. I feel visible and seen as a queer person, but not always as a trans person because there is no one way to pass as a non-binary person.

I’ve had a complicated relationship to social media, but it did (and still does) have a huge impact on the lens that I use to view myself. Being able to connect with other trans people and see their transitions has been helpful. That kind of insight can be damaging, as well — popular social media accounts tend to showcase bodies that are passing and conform to conventional standards of beauty.

Nate Dobson | 28 | they/them/theirs

For me, visibility means understanding, which means safety. When we're properly represented, it becomes more difficult for people to misrepresent us a threat. Even more so when that visibility becomes inclusive of non-wealthy, non-skinny, non-white, non-binary folks.

It's kind of hilarious to look back and realize it took me 26 years to realize that cis men don't stay up until 4 in the morning crying to Against Me!'s "The Ocean" and searching for transition testimonials on YouTube.

Recognizing that I'll never be able to control others' perception of me was super liberating. I wasn't painting my nails because I wanted to be perceived some way anymore; I was painting my nails because I wanted to feel cute.

Vrai Kaiser | 28 | they/them/theirs

As a ‘90s kid, I was drawn to Mulan. I was dearly in love with Haruka from Sailor Moon and Ken Ichijouji in Digimon. Queer narratives were hard to find where I grew up in Wyoming, and explicitly trans narratives were almost impossible.

I'm told I was angry from a young age at being told I was a little girl and not a little boy. By the time I realized medical transition was a thing around high school, there was this mourning feeling. The feelings I’d had as a kid hadn't gone away, but I'd discovered there were elements of feminine socialization I liked. It was a year or two after that I discovered the word "genderqueer," which was such a relief I burst into tears.

Ian Madrigal | 29 | they/them/theirs

Visibility is key because it allows trans kids to imagine a future. It wasn't until adults my age started coming out in greater numbers that I could imagine living openly was both possible and worth it.

Making friends with other trans folks was life-changing. I saw friends in real life and strangers on the Internet experience so much joy and freedom. The Internet continues to play a role in changing my life now that I am out and medically transitioning. So few doctors have a working knowledge of trans medical care that trans people share information.

Cheyenne | 30 | she/her/hers

Visibility should be about the things that make a person great.

I didn’t know about transgender experiences or what the word "trans" meant until I got into my 20s. I was always androgynous. I was on this journey to make myself look as feminine as possible. I didn’t know that what I was doing was considered a trans experience.

It’s been tough since day one. But now that I have the terminology to define it, I feel happier and more comfortable. Visibility shook things up in me. But I took the greatness of it, the best of it, and made it my own.

Davey | 30 | they/them/theirs

Visibility is not the same thing as economic and racial justice, mutual respect, or the material things I need to survive. To me, being visible to straight and cis people has meant having a target on my back. It does sometimes make me emotional to see other trans and non-binary in mainstream media, but as a transsexual, it's impossible not to think about how whiteness and corporatism benefit from them being there.

There was little media that was positive or affirming growing up. There was stuff I probably infused with my own subtext, like Inspector Gadget, Animorphs, and X-Men.

I didn't understand trans people were real until college. None of it clicked until I consciously met a trans-masculine person in real life. If visibility means anything to me, it's the beauty of encountering other trans people who know who they are.

Michelle Perez | 30 | she/her/hers

Visibility means arguing the case to be alive and as boring as my cisgender counterparts and trying to make art exploring the self.

Video games where you could choose your gender made me see the possibility of being trans. The most notable first experience I had with this was Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. I was obsessed with emulating Chun-Li after playing Street Fighter.

Lorelai Moira King | 30 | she/her/hers

Visibility is both a blessing and a curse. I’ve never faced outright discrimination, but I know I’ve had people look at me like I’m disgusting. It's unsettling to be looked at like you’re the scourge of the earth. I found friends in similar situations and support, all because of the Internet!

Aidan Zingler | 34 | they/them/theirs or ze/zem/zer

Visibility means I don't have to pretend to be someone else for someone else's comfort. I can live as my authentic self.

It took me several years of research and listening to trans folks before I realized that I was non-binary. It took a lot of listening and meditating on myself before it "clicked." It was hard until I found people like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox.

Amanda Klinger, Esq. | 35 | they/them/theirs

As a non-binary, gender non-conforming person, I am always highly visible. I kept my traditionally “feminine” name, but am almost always read by strangers as male until I speak. I have had many sweet moments with younger people who see me and have a flash of recognition or connection.

There was a woman at my parents’ church when I was growing up who wore men's suits. She did woodworking projects, drove a cool truck, had short hair, and was not bound by gender rules. She showed me that you could dress and act in whatever way and it was a fallacy that men and women "should" be certain ways.

Kate | 37 | she/her/hers

On a day-to-day level, visibility is mostly an annoyance. It means that, whenever I leave the house, I'm probably going to have to deal with nonsense from strangers. But it’s also honestly a blessing to be in a situation in my life where it's merely an annoyance and nothing worse.

It wasn't until social media lowered the barrier to entry for broadcasting your thoughts online that I realized that there are all kinds of trans people and that the only real criteria for transitioning was deciding to transition.

Zoë Florence Rothrock | 37 | she/her/hers

Technology had a gigantic impact on me. I think the democratization of information on the Internet indirectly saved my life. It allowed me to find stories of other people who are trans that I could relate with.

Without a doubt, being online helped me break through my own denial, bias, and misinformation about myself. The Internet even helped me find the right therapist and gender clinic for my needs. It needs to remain as a resource for the next trans kid who is desperately searching to find answers.

Elizabeth Parish | 41 | she/her/hers

My mom took me to see Rocky Horror Picture Show as a kid and I think that helped build my closet. I think that every bit of cross-dressing "comedy" reinforced that in me. I've felt that until recently, the media portrayed us as weirdos, perverts, or jokes.

There were numerous times that I either tried to come out and failed or the people I was coming out to weren't supportive. It wasn't until I met my wife that I finally found someone who let me feel safe enough. As trite as it sounds, the 2016 election was kind of the final straw.

Charlotte Grove | 44 | she/her/hers

I know that just being me allows cis people to see trans people as we are: people. I also know that, for better or worse, how people see me is going to reflect onto other trans people.

I knew I was trans back in 1979, even though I didn't have the words then. I spent a lot of my high school years reading anything I could find about gender transition. There wasn't much. On my second and successful transition attempt, the Internet was a lifeline for me.

Patti Flynn | 49 | she/her/hers

Transness clicking for me was part Laura Jane Grace and part Caitlyn Jenner. At that point, I went to go see a therapist. I also hit the Internet. I made a Facebook account. I found some message boards and made friends from around the globe. If not for the ability to connect to other people in ways that felt safe, I don’t know if this would have been a happy story.

Denise Bowker | 57 | she/her/hers

Renee Richards made me see the possibility of being trans. I read everything I could find on her. I was 13 when her story came out.

Did technology impact my transition process? Other than saving my life? There is a forum, Susans.org, where I've met people who have virtually held my hand. If you post a problem, you'll get multiple answers from people who have or had the same question.

Tammi F. Ebbin | 58 | she/her/hers or they/them/theirs

Sadly, because I’m traveling in the American South a lot, these days I don’t feel safe to be “visible,” so I travel in drag in my old male persona. Back home, I feel safer to dress the way I feel best. I hope in the future there are safer spaces — especially in rural America.

For some reason, I didn’t think being trans was a possibility for me until my friend questioned me, saying, “What’s holding you back?”

Editor’s note: Answers have been condensed for clarity and space.

Want more from Teen Vogue? Check this out: Why Transgender Visibility Matters to Me