This Pride, we’re launching an exciting storytelling campaign: “Voices of Pride: Sharing Our Stories”. This initiative is all about celebrating the beautiful diversity and resilience within the 2TIGE community. We believe that every story holds powerâthe power to inspire, to educate, and to connect us all on a deeper level.
As part of this campaign, we’ve pre-loaded a couple of prompts for our community storytellers to share their experiences.
Why Your Story Matters:
đ Authentic Representation: Your experiences contribute to a richer, more vibrant tapestry of our community.
đ Connection: Sharing your journey can be a beacon of support and solidarity for someone in a similar situation.
đ Celebration: It’s a way to honor our achievements, struggles, and the ongoing journey towards equality and understanding. How to Participate:
Reflect on your unique experiences and what Pride means to you.
Craft your storyâwhether itâs a defining moment, a message of hope, or a celebration of identity.
Share it with us! Submit your responses to the prompt(s) that excite you, by clicking here.
Also, please donât worry about perfection; itâs your authenticity and joy that we want to see!
I began my transition journey before even knowing what Transgender was. This was not a widely used word circa 1992-1993, my senior year of high school. Even though we all seemingly straddle the spectrum of identities and orientations, it was then (and still is to a great extent now) a hush-hush society as far as anything related to sex is concerned. It was a world in which I had no visible representation of what it is to be a Trans woman. It was a lonely and bewildering time of questioning my mere existence. Why am I so different? How is it that everyone else is so normal and I am not? What kind of freak am I?
These and many other questions pervaded my thought process, compelling me to seek answers. I needed someone to show me that I was not alone in the questioning, as it were. I craved an exampleâother than RuPaul strutting to âSupermodel (You Better Work)ââthat there could be the possibility of me: a proud member of our Two-spirit, Trans, Intersex, Gender-expansive Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (2TIGE BIPOC) community. And I needed to see visible evidence with my own eyes. Gratefully, that happened.
My very first âaha!â moment was when I saw the beautiful Shannon DeVaughn, known then as “The Million Dollar Look,” a Trans woman drag performer from Knoxville, Tennessee. I was seventeen: young and naive, a curious pre-blossoming caterpillar whose cocoon had not yet formed, using a fake ID to get through the crowded line and into The Carousel II club.
Shannon was beautiful. She was in the wind. She was flitting all about the stage: spinning, twirling, giving life, sensual smiles, and gracious nods of acknowledgement. She was glamouring the house down BOOTS! She was the room’s sole butterfly, instantly becoming my inspiration as I and everyone else in the club that hot summer night was captivated and in awe.
I saw not only Shannon’s pastied breasts, her flowing golden locks as metaphorical wings, but literally felt in that moment an extremely new, impossible (yet obviously possible) example of who and what I could be. I saw confidence and courage. I saw a reflection of what I AM. I saw a woman of the Trans experience!
By simply being proudly and unashamedly visible in her authenticity, Shannon gave me the encouragement I so desperately needed as a loner teen. Her mere visibility inspired me to perform at the Carouselâs Wednesday talent night show a few weeks later.Â
Before then, I was the introverted techie in my high school drama club. I installed various lighting in the school auditorium, ran the light board, shone the spotlight on the play cast, along with a slew of other busy-work production tasks. I was excited to be part of our school productions in whatever capacity I could be: there was a semblance of inclusion behind the scenes. My inclination was to not have that spotlight on myself. And then I met Shannon, who, as the first Trans woman Iâd ever seen, was the definition of an icon: a person who influences your life for the better, inspiring the liberation and motivation required to be your best self.
Performing drag on a stage of absolute acceptance was my introduction to a life of creation and a catalyst for my metamorphosis into Jacquii Chenyneh Kween Cooke. At the end of the day, though, through Shannonâs unapologetic visibility, I came to realize that this is no costume I wear. I couldn’t really take the drag off. I didn’t want to take it off. The experience allowed me the honesty to say, “I’m not a man. And I don’t want to be a man. I cannot be a man.”
I had begun to blossom into myself as a proud Black Trans woman. I only wish for my fellow Trans siblings to blossom comfortably and feel at home in their truth and own skin as well.
During this LGBTQIA2S+ History Month, I encourage exactly that. Iâm unsure of the turn my journey would have taken had I not seen Shannon demonstrating the possibility of being a Trans woman so many years ago. Iâm grateful that she stood firm in her authenticity to be the Trans visibility my seventeen-year-old self needed. She remains iconic in my mind because of this simple refusal to be disappeared into the shadow of secrecy and shame.
As another Trans icon, Lourdes Ashley Hunter, says, “I want to be seen, affirmed and celebrated as a whole damn person… I want to wake up without the threat of violence!” This is what Trans icons bring, having fought for a seat at the roundtable of inclusion for not only themselves but for our entire 2TIGE community. Shannon DeVaughn is white, but her display of pride empowered me to display my own pride as the 48-year-old Black Trans woman I have grown to be today. My aim is to one day be considered an icon myself, as I, on behalf of Trans Empowerment Project, continue my work to champion joy, equity, and thriving into the lives of the most marginalized of us within the greater LGBTQIA2S+ community.
You can support the work we do at TEP by visiting our donation page and making a contribution to the cause.Â
In 1827, the English poet, literary critic, philosopher, and theologian Samuel Taylor Coleridge defined poetry as âthe best words in the best order.â He further wrote, âWhen we write, we string words together like beads, ever mindful of color and shape, the powerful nuances of meaning each word conveys.â As a Black Trans poet in the 21st century, I find Coleridgeâs assessment to be spot-on. I would add to his definition that poetry is not merely a collection of best words, but it is also personal. I describe it as a soliloquy in reflection: our needs and desires, our wishes, sorrows, and joys written for posterity. It is an emotional testament to our existence.
Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote that poetry is âthe work of a nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.â Iâve experienced a darkness so profound, the only thing I could see was the sweet song I longed to birth into the world. At one time, blocked from indulging my various curiosities, I turned to verse to hear my own voice. I found that I thrive when sharing my life experiences with whoever has a receptive ear. Thus is the transformative power of poetry.
In celebration of Black Poetry Day, I encourage all to unleash the symphony of our collective voicesâto sing and allow joy to thrive in both the seen and unseen spaces of our existence. Shout(if you must) your experience using your best words in their best order, unlocking your profound wisdom, enabling a journey to self-discovery, and uplifting your community through testimony of how it was, how it is, and how it can be.Â
Several Black poets have shaped me in my own journey. Langston Hughes was the poet, philosopher, and essayist extraordinaire whose genius shone through in his character Jesse B. Semple. Zora Neale Hurston, though not primarily a poet, wrote verse after verse on how to attain self-respect when the door has been slammed in your face. She schooled me on how to get that door answered and open. Black poets have always been philosophers. Their need to share wisdoms gleaned from their experiences gives manyâincluding meâthe courage to share their own.Â
I discovered the tenacious Ntozake Shange and knew instantly that itâs okay to embrace my natural self, even when it comes to having ânappy edgesâ and an attitude just as unkempt. Then I found the rebellious words of Ai Ogawa, a Black poet and educator who won the 1999 National Book Award for Poetry for Vice: New and Selected Poems. Ai talked unashamedly and courageously about rape, not shying away from the dark and controversial stuff of humanity. She was known for her mastery of the dramatic monologue as a poetic form,âI want to take the narrative ‘persona’ poem as far as I can, and I’ve never been one to do things in halves. All the way or nothing. I won’t abandon that desire,â she said. It’s like she wanted to give a voice to the marginalized, impoverished, and abused, just as we do in our work at Trans Empowerment Project.
On this Black Poetry Day, we at Trans Empowerment Project challenge you to channel your inner poet, recognizing that you are seen and appreciated, and that your value is priceless. Take some time to read some poetry. Write or sing some of your own. There is value and empowerment in your words, not only for yourself, but others. We are committed to supporting and championing you to use your voice in order to foster equity, joy, happiness, peace, and love into your life. Moreover, we dare you to do the same for others.
I Am Not Tragically ColouredÂ
(about Zora)Â
So the Moon shined in April, a half quarter gleam at your backside Zora. He was as dust tracks on your road, caressing you with His natural endowmentÂ
for falsetto grace-hope.Â
You knew that Olâ Man Moon â He kept you lit when you were scoring the most beautiful Neale Hurston masterpieces.Â
Well that Olâ Man Moon steady hides behind, beyond thee like an unseen strata of cumulous clouds.Â
Heâs demure with songs of lust, his wind still yearning your silver-linings and your unkempt starry nights. Like tornadoes piquing in the eye of ecstasy:Â
He wants you, your barefaced façade like an eclipse of GodâĻ You wrote to him, âTell my horse.âÂ
I laughed that frosted May. Giggled raucously.Â
The Moon was full with springtime surprise, but no stars in the garden that night? Where lay those subtle orbs of fire?, their blatant sighs in an atmosphere filled with mocking. Mustâve slyly spied swiss upon my mahogany visage, an unwinked eye? Hooded?Â
I smiled with you Zora; I kneeled beside the subtle of your blasphemyâĻ I smiled poetry.Â
I winked it actually, my left eye lazyÂ
and my right shining in jest â I steady smileÂ
the prose of questing for an entire humanityÂ
no longer mired in the muck of Jim Crow, no longer as the mule of young virile men.Â
From terror to triumph I smile (for we are all vital) And you shine Zora. You shine on.Â
Butterflies and orchids. Half-rainbows, stars at noon. Wine and green blades â Daffodils of yellow make you swoon.
And the chilâren in sand boxes: NaïvetÊ amazed. Overalls specked â Slides and swings rathering spirits gay. Shall you comfort on benches like chaise lounge rooms? And fall in gardens: Honeysuckle, Azalia, Hyacinth blooms? Special aroma awaits you. (In the gourd vine of redemption.)Â
Kittens claw seraph wings and dogs paw like loyalty. Eyes of golden green, a hazel teeming with malice. Defense blows in the wind as claws grasp.Â
A face in moonlit shadow. A voice beckoningÂ
as rain drizzles in the pallor of an invisible orb. Stars ablaze; clouds rampantly gray: a great man deadâĻ (dust tracks blown in the wind of perseverance; in the midst: reparation)Â
âĻand her eyes, they laugh, theyâre on the silver-lined, for she could never hold a grudge; grudges rot hearts. Plus sheâs naïve-smart, loving child at thirty-one. Her eyes be watching God; Theyâre hungryÂ
Jack Knoxville is the founder and Executive Director of Trans Empowerment Project. In addition to his activism, Jack is also a prolific writer and poet. In celebration of Black Poetry Day, here is a sampling of some of Jackâs work.
Iâm too Angry
Iâm too angry about myÂ
Lived experiencesÂ
You know, The ones that
Get the privileged
Likes on Instagram
For âstanding in solidarity withâ
My anger,Â
no longer hidden by desperation, has made me a marked man
and will never get me heard over my Blackness or my Transness
Only discarded like the empty promises transcribed on protest signsÂ
Strewn across empty streets
The posters that these t-shirt collectors put together
For fun,
On a Friday while
Drinking wine and filling their bellies
While I starved
For food
For funds
For friends
For family
For freedom
To BREATHE.
These momentsÂ
A movement, carried through the interwebs by tweeting birds
Drown out the sound of sorrowÂ
In the void of isolation while the afflicted wrap themselves in the familiarity of loneliness
After beingÂ
tokenized, capitalized onÂ
by slogans on swag
Under this guise of solidarity
These words,Â
Intentional splatters of ink
Meaningless to anything other than the page
Fall, and flop with a thudÂ
In front of me, at my feet
When they work so hard to keep me out of the room, let alone near the table
My lifeâs a drag to hear about
To have gone through, to have to heal from
Especially when the hurt wonât stop
Is only valuable when told through other peopleâs voices
A story that affords me space for the price tag,Â
Of my soul for their swag,Â
But when the conference is over, and they go home, Iâm the one thatâs left with the night terrors of reality while they get to sleep.Â
CW: This article deals with mental health and suicide prevention
When I was 21 years old, I hiked a mountain with my roommate. For these purposes, weâll call him Ben. I had shut myself in my room for over a month, and Ben was determined to get me out of the worst of it. He packed us both backpacks, drove us out to his favorite mountain in the state of Colorado, and we were off.Â
We didnât talk at all aside from the occasional warning about a tricky part of the path or pointing out an interesting sight. My pack was heavy, and by the way it sat on him, I could tell his was a little lighter. I figured there was no harm in asking to transfer some of the things in my pack to his. To my surprise, he told me no.Â
About a quarter of the way up, I had to break. I was sweating up a storm, already exhausted, and taking off a backpack had never felt so good. Ben was sweating, but not nearly as tired as I was. He set his pack down and sat and waited for me. Didnât scout ahead, never asked me if I was ready to keep going. He just offered me water and a granola bar, and waited. I checked out his pack to see it was surprisingly light: in fact, it was only about half full. Iâm not the confrontational type, so I let it go. We continued up the mountain and I was fading fast. Iâd stop, Ben would stop with me, and when I was ready weâd go on.Â
About 3 miles from the top and after about 5 hours, I insisted on splitting my pack. Ben asked me to sit, which I wasnât about to say no to. He explained that he didnât really know what was going on with me. If it was depression, anxiety, family issues, or all of the above, he just knew I was carrying something. While heâd love nothing more than to take some things from my pack, he couldnât. What he could do is walk with me up this mountain. He could slow down, wait, and make sure I had what I needed to do it, he just couldnât carry it for me. We ended up getting to the top, making it back down, and Ben drove us home and made dinner. We sat, I talked, he listened.Â
This month, TEP has been discussing Suicide Prevention and Awareness. There are so many of us in the 2TIGE (Two-Spirit, Trans, Intersex, and Gender-Expansive) community who are carrying things in our packs. Our mental health, our physical health, and our basic needs are a very simplistic start. For TEP to say that we can take things from your pack to make it lighter would be a lie, but we can go on that hike with you and give you what we do have to get up that mountain yourself. And it doesnât end with our staff. Our Community Captains are dedicated to making sure all 2TIGE people not only know that their community is out there, but that they belong in it. From clothing swaps to community dinners, to food pantries and so much more, they want to be here for you. If you see yourself in my story, we strongly urge you to see if our inTRANSitionsprogram has assistance we can provide. If you see yourself in Ben, go check out our Grow Power Locally page and get more information on becoming a Community Captain for your local area. A good friend of mine loves to say that you can change a life just by saying âhello,â and sometimes that can mean saving it.Â
[Content Warning: The following content may evoke strong emotions and trigger memories. It aims to shed light on the issues faced by the Two-Spirit, Trans, Intersex, Gender Expansive, Black, Indigenous, and People of Color Communities (2TIGE BIPOC) during Suicide Prevention and Awareness Month. If you prefer to skip potentially triggering content, please refer to the Tips/Lessons Section Link below.]
Trans Empowerment Project (TEP) stands firm in our unwavering commitment to forge a world that is equitable, where every individual can bask in the joy of simply existing peacefully. We yearn not just to aid you in the pursuit of happiness, but to help you grasp it firmly, embrace it wholeheartedly, and nurture it ceaselessly. It is our unshakeable belief that we are entitled to experience unbridled joy in our day-to-day lives. We demand the fundamental right to exist without the abhorrent attempts at erasure and sabotage hurled at us by those who hold positions of power they don’t deserve. Far too many of us contend with our own internal demons, compelled to battle our own inner self-saboteur. We often have our own self-destructive thoughts and have no need for external forces to compound our pain, to deepen our wounds, or to amplify the struggles we face.Â
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jacquii Cooke, Multimedia Specialist for TEP and former Program Manager of inTRANSitions (TEPâs direct aid program). Through this heartfelt testimonial, I intend to share personal reflections, drawing upon my own experiences of engaging in self-destructive behavior, of staring death in the face, all while desperately crying out for help. I suffered silently. I was (and still am) seeking solace from a world that seems all too eager to turn a blind eye, unwilling to freely give the peace and help we all ultimately need to thrive while striving to live our best lives.
The colloquialism “I can do bad by my damn self,” reverberates in my mind as a relentlessly echoing and sobering truth I heard daily in childhood. My lived experiences align perfectly with that very colloquialism, as witnessing the malevolence I absorbed and inflicted upon myself seeped deep into my soul, molding my anger into a toxic brew of depression. It is said that depression is simply anger turned inward, and I have experienced this truth intimately. Over the last two decades, my experience has followed an agonizing pattern: moments of triumph, followed by descent into darkness, descending further still until things became bearable, and finally, a glimmer of hope that allowed me to label it as good. Yet, against all odds, I stand here today, proudly proclaiming that my rollercoaster of trials and tribulations has settled on the platform of “better.” I am determined to live my best life, defying the odds that once threatened to extinguish my light. I am alive and mentally stable enough to share my story with those within our community, our Trans siblings who bear the weight of their own struggles, and those who stand as allies doing the real work to help others in the community.
Even now, the scars on my left arm vividly mark my first attempt at extinguishing that candle. I felt used, dismissed, discarded, completely alone, and left to wallow in my own self-pity. The burden of loneliness seemed like the straw that would break this camel’s back. I just knew there was no other viable alternative but to call it a day. But I was wrong. And fortunately, that night as I knocked on Death’s door, that door remained closed. After a trip to the emergency room, the stitches on my arm marked the beginning of my journey with mental health facilities, where I hoped to find the support I so urgently needed.
The memories of this unsettlingly haunting choice raised questions for which I didnât see the answers. It’s an unfortunate set of recollections I have, but what if the answers had been truly visible? Twenty-six years after my first attempt, I wonder: what if there were solutions offered during my first in-patient stay at Lake Shore Mental Health Facility in Knoxville, TN? What if there were organizations like TEP and our inTRANSitions program, offering real resolutions for folks in similar situations instead of band-aid fixes? Today, the answers to these questions have become clear. And I want to share them, along with some positive and inspiring lessons I’ve gleaned over the years, because it does get better.
Back in 1992, there was barely language to define my Trans identity; or rather, there was language, but it was suppressed and cruelly cloaked in a blatant attempt at colonial erasure. LGBTQIA2S+ organizations, inclusive of the most marginalized within the community, were and still are slightly hidden from view. The first advocacy group I joinedâthe then University of Tennessee GLB Student Unionâsaw its acronym with important letters missing from what many naysayers now unironically refer to as the “alphabet mafia.” The struggle is real, but the tables are on the way to turning right side up, if gradually. The fight for representation and equity is coming to fruition through the brave (often brazen) visibility of our diverse experiences.
There are now mental health facilities dedicated to helping those of us in crisis. As a direct result of five years of therapyâsomething I am a vocal proponent of since it has proven a readily available tool in my arsenal of self-discovery and ownership of self-care,âI felt empowered to join Trans Empowerment Project’s dedicated team. The inTRANSitions program in particular has helped me immensely during my evolutionary journey, providing the support and resources needed to live a more fulfilled life. The inTRANSitions program and other organizations’ programs, whose ultimate mission is to uplift the community from places of struggle, crisis, and trauma to something better now absolutely do exist. The proof is with me now, proudly writing to you as TEPâs Multimedia Specialist, looking to reach out to folks who were or are in similar situations and offer some hope with my story.Â
Opportunities exist for us when we continually stroll the path to evolving for the better, seeking happiness as if it were the storied pot of gold at the end of the proverbial rainbow. Many would say that we are the rainbow, and that we only seek to find ourselves, not confined to the shade, but in light-filled spaces filled with joy, equity, and mutual respect for each other’s dignity and right to thrive.Â
Allow me to share some tips and lessons on breaking the cycle of merely pursuing such happiness, but attaining it. Here are six practices Iâve put in place for my own self-care and peace of mind. I certainly encourage others to do similar towards the goal of moving yourself beyond survival mode to thriving:
Practice Self-Acceptance: Embrace and celebrate your identity. Learn about Trans rights, healthcare options, and resources available to you. Affirm self-compassion by endorsing your worth and uniqueness. Being well-informed in the arms of acceptance can empower you to make informed decisions about your own well-being.
Set Boundaries: Learn to prioritize your self-care by setting boundaries with others. Clearly communicate your needs so that you protect your mental and emotional energy.
Build A Support System: Surround yourself with supportive friends, family, and healthcare professionals who can offer a listening ear and are affirming of your identity. Share your feelings and challenges, as talking about them can provide relief.Â
Explore Support Groups: Join support groups specifically designed for Trans folks experiencing similar feelings or challenges. Engage with media, books, and social platforms that uplift and represent Trans voices. Intentionally placing yourself in such spaces can foster a sense of community, belonging, and understanding, as well as help reduce feelings of isolation.
Create A Safety Plan: Work to develop a crisis plan that outlines steps to take during a moment of crisis. This plan typically includes strategies to identify triggers, coping mechanisms, and emergency contacts to help you navigate in such moments.
Celebrate Personal Milestones: Acknowledge your own progress and achievements. This can help build self-confidence and resilience. This strategy can help elevate your self-esteem and is the foundation on which you might find your own champion within.Â
Now, as I continually try taking my own tips, evolving myself for the better, and transforming into the embodiment of my most authentic self, I urge you to take hold of this fervor and call for self-care, healing, and joy during Suicide Prevention and Awareness Month. Channel this testimonial and be encouraged to be your most happily authentic self every month. We are not called to struggle alone, there can be happy endings. Channel it into helpful action when you see friends, loved ones, and strangers alike enduring struggle.
We see you. And I know we must cooperate, finding our power together, advocating for the rights and well-being of our 2TIGE community, especially the most marginalized of us within it. Let us support one another, rejecting the notion that our existence is anything less than extraordinary. Together, we can create a world weâre proud to call home. We can create an existence where our every moment is painted with vibrant brushstrokes of love, joy, acceptance, healing, and empowerment!
Trans joy might be radical, but JOY is a birthright. Help us bring folks who are struggling from surviving to thriving and experiencing joy. The program that helped me get there is inTRANSitions. Make a donation for this life-saving work and sign up for updates to get involved. And together, daring to be better to each other and to ourselves, let’s make it happen.
My very first âaha!â moment was when I saw the beautiful Shannon DeVaughn, known then as 
blossom comfortably and feel at home in their truth and own skin as well.
