Gender Expansive & Transgender Scholarship

Like every gender non-conforming child, I knew from a young age that I was not the same as my same-sex peers. I was born assigned male at birth (AMAB), and growing up I struggled with reconciling my gender identity internally. I was never comfortable in all-male spaces, such as bathrooms, locker rooms, and ESPECIALLY hotel rooms on out-of-town field trips (those often ended in sleepless nights). For a long time, similar to other AMAB transfeminine people, I attributed these feelings to being gay. I felt like the title of a “gay man” allowed me to explore my gender freely, and finally experience gender fluidity in an uninhibited fashion. However, I was quickly reminded that all-male spaces are the same regardless if they are heterosexually or homosexually oriented, and I could not feel seen because… I am simply not a man. No matter how much I tried to feel represented by gay maleness, I felt like I was continuously compensating for my femininity by overemphasizing or sexualizing my body, in a way that felt like I had to sacrifice my authenticity as a human being and market my gender. After many periods of insecurity and depression, I knew something had to give. Through the guidance of transgender friends who have been in my shoes, I accepted the reality that was always the most fearful to recognize- I am trans. Yet the very night that I accepted myself as non-binary, my nightmares ceased, and every day since has been a blessing in the journey of unlimited and boundless self-discovery. As a result, however, my familial relationships suffered. Following my first year being out, and my exploration of gender fluidity through both bodily and stylistic changes, my parents withdrew their financial support of my college as they believe it is “radicalizing” me. Thankfully, my newfound confidence has allowed me to achieve many milestones on my own, including a temporary position at the ACLU of Florida, where I help organize young Latino students like myself to vote locally and fight against disenfranchisement and suppression. This has allowed me to keep my head above the water for the time being, but my contract expires this year, and I am concerned about the future of my housing and education. At times, I question my decision to come out, and wonder if I would’ve been better off keeping it a secret- but the joy and peace that I feel now is priceless, and I would not give it up for the world. I am currently studying to attain a bachelor’s in Global & Sociocultural Studies with a focus on Sociology, and I also hope to attain certificates in both Queer Studies and Women’s and Gender Studies. I have always loved history and the complexities of our society, but I have also learned how sociology plays out in my own lived experience. Furthermore, broadening my studies to include queer concepts has also deepened my self-understanding of how societal institutions interact to shape the ideas around gender that have long dominated my conscious and subconscious thinking. Through research that examines the intersection between queerness, gender performance, and the mixed-race ethnic groups of Latin America and the Caribbean, particularly in my mother country of the Dominican Republic. I know my contributions as a brown gender non-conforming person can help rewrite the narrative around Afro-Latino queerness that has often been produced from a white cisgender perspective. By doing so, I hope to uplift brown queer experiences and give them their deserving place and dignity within academia, furthering the battle for equality and recognition for all queer peoples around the globe.

People often ask me, "When did you know you were trans?" I used to answer, "in middle school" or "when I was twelve," since that was when I started to outwardly project my gender-expansive identity and advocate for greater inclusion in educational spaces. However, in hindsight, I knew I was transgender when I was much younger. But what I knew then was only that I was different, very different, and that there was no word for me. In elementary school, you were either a boy or a girl, and to be both meant that you were neither. So while I didn’t yet know that I was transgender, really, I did know that I was invisible and painfully anxious. In elementary school, anxiety pervaded my days. I felt anxious because I felt hollow and amorphous. There were no gender-neutral bathrooms. I didn’t know where to go. Teachers did not read books with non-binary characters. I didn’t see myself. Counselors did not question my resistance to joining the girls' book club, even though I was an advanced and passionate reader. I didn’t engage. Nurses did not question my almost daily office visits after boys-against-girls activities in physical education and on the playground. I didn’t connect. Perhaps if my school was not so entrenched in hetero-normativity, I might have not missed so much school for being “sick”. The absence of a lexicon and a place for students like me led me to the conclusion that I was damaged and broken. Eventually, in middle school, I embarked on a journey of self-education. I found books, websites, and virtual communities that helped me realize and embrace my identity. Empowered to not let future students muddle through the same uncertainty and exclusion, I found my voice and steadfastly advocated for broadening identity norms. Collaborating with concerned teachers, I helped launch the Gender and Sexuality Alliance at my middle school, cultivating a reassuring space for queer youth. One afternoon each week, the GSA supported a group of diverse students in discussions and activities promoting unconditional acceptance. In high school, as an employee at the local public library, I regularly encouraged the circulation manager to acquire books with gender-non-confirming characters. For trans kids, representation in books is life-altering. For others, portrayal in literature allows for a human connection that otherwise might not be made. As a creative arts camp counselor, I nurtured self-expression and identity awareness. In a community that bolsters extreme athleticism, it is hard to be the kid who chooses art over sport. I intentionally helped children move beyond perceived expectations and develop their own sense of self-worth. As a result of these lived experiences, I have decided to pursue my Bachelor of Arts degree in Elementary Education with an emphasis on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. I intend to shine a light on the harmful gender-normative practices that schools perpetuate. More importantly, I aspire to broaden students' perception of the expansive nature of gender through stories, media, and art. If I were fortunate enough to be awarded this scholarship, I would want its supporters to know that an investment in me is an investment in a voice for the underrepresented LGBTQ+ community and a gatekeeper of the systemic cracks that children sadly fall into. I want to become a teacher in order to demonstrate that schools can and should be a safe space for all people.

I don’t really think they get it. What it feels like to be on the outside of the perceived ‘majority’. To have to pay more for a single dorm, or go without housing, because in a gendered system, the faculty don’t know where to put you. To anxiously email professors before the first day of school. Hoping that they get your name right during attendance so they don’t out you in front of the entire class. The fear that you will not be welcome in clubs or activities, that you will be embarrassed if you raise your hand to speak, or that you will be denied Federal Financial Aid because you legally changed your name and gender marker. I’ve experienced all of these, especially the last one, because of how my society devalues me. Which perhaps is how I found a refuge, in art, and science. Art is easy to understand. Queer people tend to gravitate towards it like moths to fire. The things that make us different are often celebrated in the art world, where people are more open-minded, more creative, and more accepting than many of our peers. Science though? Why was I drawn to that? Well, not to answer a question with a question, but have you ever had a perfect raspberry? Soft, like velvet, and perfectly sweet. Those irresistible ones, that a person could eat like candy. I’m sure plenty of people have had unimpressive berries too. Those ones that look ready to eat, but that offer only a slightly tart dullness. Like a sample-sized LaCroix. Not everyone knows that the difference between these two kinds of berries is the number of pollinators they have. The number of moths, bees, birds, and butterflies that touched their lives, when they were still flowers. Diversity, in all things, is and always has been the flavor of life on Earth. It makes us stronger, it makes us smarter, and it makes the planet as a whole a more beautiful place to live. In science, I found beauty in diversity, which means I was able to find the beautiful things about my Afro-Latino, trans, nonbinary self. Art and science inspired me to pursue Medical Illustration at the Rochester Institute of Technology. Medical illustration is important because it is used in educational literature to show healthcare professionals what to look for, to treat and diagnose their patients. Unfortunately, like many of the resources in the education world, many of these diagrams cater to the cisgender, heterosexual, white perceived majority. When I graduate from RIT, I aim to create Illustrated Medical Resources that represent people like me. People of color, trans bodies, and queer family structures. I want to play a role in making The United States a place where gender-nonconforming people and people of color do not have to worry about being misdiagnosed because of prejudices, or lack of resources, in health science. Because of the way I look, I have never been able to hide. I am a five-foot-tall firework of curly hair. I am a burnt sienna wildfire in a white-washed forest. This means that whether I want to or not, I make an impact everywhere I go. That is why I will create illustrations of LGBTQ+ people, and Medical Concerns that are unique to our community. So that we can have better, more comprehensive medical care. Which includes doctors who are used to seeing us, in all the shapes, colors, and sizes we come in.

My first barrier to education as a trans man was being kicked out by my abusive family members when I came out at 16 years old. I struggled with homelessness and bullying in my final years of high school and still graduated with a 3.2 GPA. When I attempted community college as an adult, I was constantly misgendered and singled out by professors. Unfortunately, I was forced to register in the school's system as my birth sex. This led to transphobia from other students on top of the issues with professors. I left the college and re-registered years later when I was "passing" as a male and faced the same issues. Ultimately, I left community college and focused my sights on career training. I pursued certification as a Community Health Worker and a Peer Support Specialist to support LGBTQ+ and disabled individuals. Though my professor was inclusive, I faced harassment and bullying from my peers in the classroom because of my disabilities and being out as a trans man. In response, I spoke to my professor and provided Trans* 101, LGBTQ+ 101, and Disability 101 training to my classmates. The bullying and harassment gratefully stopped and many mindsets were changed. I next decided to complete a degree, but online, to avoid transphobia and harassment in the classroom. I am studying towards a Bachelor in Community Health Education, in the Public Health field. Thanks to the transferrable credits from community college, I am now a sophomore at Southern New Hampshire University Online. My career goal is to become a Health Educator and a Doula. I have applied for a scholarship program here in Michigan that will be training Doulas to work with individuals insured by Medicaid. I will also serve the LGBTQ+ community, particularly trans men and non-binary people. If accepted into the Doula training program, I plan to work part-time as a birthing Doula with underserved populations throughout my undergraduate schooling. I am a non-paid employee at a transgender-led organization, Transcend the Binary. I serve as a Community Health Worker, in the Education and Development Department, and as a Peer Counselor. This position is relevant to both my career and educational goals. I am currently involved with seeking out funding for the organization and our partners to provide interventions that reduce the rates of non-HIV STIs in the transgender and gender non-conforming communities. One planned intervention spans two years and will continue after I complete my undergraduate degree. I hope that I can make an impact on the LGBTQ+ community through this intervention and others like it. After I complete my undergraduate degree, I would like to complete some type of graduate degree. I am debating between studying for a Master of Public Health and a Master of Social Work degree. I plan to combine the skills learned in my Community Health Education degree program and future Doula training to further my career. My goal is to run my own birth Doula and health education practice that supports and empowers the LGBTQ+ community. I hope to continue my non-paid work with Transcend the Binary, as community service is a passion of mine. I also will be seeking out more opportunities to become involved in research that supports the LGBTQ+ community, with a focus on the trans and gender non-conforming communities. I feel that I have already made a strong impact on the LGBTQ+ community through my community service work. My life's mission is changing the world, one person at a time. I will continue this practice throughout my undergraduate degree program and beyond through my service to the LGBTQ+ community.

I am nonbinary and specifically identify as gender fluid. I typically use they or he pronouns, but sometimes I use she, or more expansive options such as neopronouns like ae/aer. I have questioned my gender since 7th grade and fully came out in 10th grade as genderfluid and bisexual. I often faced disbelief or open disrespect from teachers and staff at my school, being casually misgendered and deadnamed, and ignored when I pointed out the issue. In my first year of college, my parents, who had thus far been paying for my college with the money we had saved up, disowned me. They had initially been somewhat accepting of my identity, but when I informed them that I was seeking top surgery for gender affirmation and my mental health, they told me that I was not ready. They believed I was too young to know for certain or to want gender-affirming care, and that I should wait until I was twenty-five. The argument escalated, and I fled to my partner's house. When she went to collect my things, they had already been packed by my parents. This has left my financial future uncertain. I do not know if they are willing to continue paying for my college tuition or help me in any way, and even if they were, the few times they have attempted to contact me show that they simply want their perfect "daughter" back. I can't give them that, not without sacrificing everything I am, and have fought to become. I am applying for scholarships and financial aid so I can pursue my goals without forcing myself back into the closet to appease my family. I am a biochemistry major planning on attending medical school, preferably abroad in Germany, as I have an interest in the German language and will hopefully be minoring in it. If all goes well, I may even move there permanently. I am planning to study toxicology in medical school, and I want to become a toxicologist or possibly a phlebotomist. I have had an interest in the medical sciences since I was twelve, and I have been deadset on this specific goal since I was fifteen. I plan on using my skills to assist other LGBTQ+ people seeking medical attention and gender-affirming care. Transgender people are often ignored, dismissed, or outright disrespected by those who are supposed to take care of us. Even regular checkups can become uncomfortable or outright hostile. I have had horrible experiences when seeking care from regular doctors, and this is not an uncommon occurrence. Having someone in their corner with the skills to help effectively can make all the difference for a trans person seeking healthcare. I want to be that someone. I am going to help LGBTQ+ people gain more footholds in the medical sciences, so our existence isn't outright dismissed by those who have our lives in their hands.