International Transgender Day of Visibility

You Are Seen, Friends: A message of love and hope from Aris Hearth of "A Perspective of Leaves"

Photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona on Unsplash

Qstack is proud to present this foreword and essay from

Aris Hearth

of

A Perspective of Leaves

to mark and celebrate International Transgender Day of Visibility - Monday, March 31st, 2025.

Our trans family and friends will always be welcome, supported, and defended in this place.

I wrote this piece for Trans Day of Visibility 2024. While the sentiments and stories I tell remain true, we are at a markedly different moment than we were a year ago.

Trans people are facing monumental threats to our livelihoods and right to self determination, with near-daily legislative efforts targeting us at the state and federal levels. Many trans people are working to flee the United States. I don’t go a day without thinking about my safety, the safety of my loved ones, and what I can do to help my community survive.

I have written a number of pieces on navigating fear and safety as a trans person, including Eye Contact with Strangers, Reflections on Safety: What I learned Traveling Abroad as my Trans Self, and The Shape of Fear. I go back to these pieces often to remind myself that no matter how dire the national context is, I live in my local context. Daily bodily safety depends on my neighbors, the members of my community, and my intuition, not on what the law says about my existence.

Before we get into the piece, I want to share an excerpt from a recent letter I wrote to my best friend:

I’m really afraid to die a violent death. I don’t want to be a casualty of the political times we’re living in . . . I'm never going to be completely without fear - fear is normal and human. But, all of the people who love me make me feel safe. I am protected by all of the love I receive, and my love protects in return. I have to believe this in order to keep a livable life.

Something feels almost karmic about the nature of my most violent intrusive thoughts. What I mean is: everything happening politically makes it easy to see various pathways that would lead to me being killed for being trans. It feels like every day there’s more reason to believe my darkest fears will come true. And yet, I cannot believe they will. I have to continue to fight my intrusive thoughts, even as they seem more and more real. This does feel karmic to me, but not in a “I deserve this” kind of way. I mean that it feels specific and particular to my path and the lessons I will learn in this life. Me going through this time as the person I am feels meaningful, like I am meant to be here.

I have been gifted this life as a trans person, and I intend to use it to experience as much love and joy as I physically can. I know that no matter what, we are worth celebrating.

To keep up on trans-related news in the United States, I suggest reading

Erin Reed

’s

Erin In The Morning

. I have also been finding much comfort in the writing of

Margaret Killjoy

in her publication

Birds Before the Storm

.

—

Aris Hearth

I am Trans and I am Alive

---

I spend a lot of time thinking about my queer elders, the ones I never got to meet. The people who died in the AIDs crisis and the people who never felt safe to be themselves. Generations of queer knowledge have been wiped out again and again, and yet we survive. We relearn the lessons of our ancestors because they weren’t here to teach us their wisdom. We educate ourselves and each other about our health and safety. Openly trans people start to become elders in their communities by their 30s. If we live past 40, it is something to celebrate. Today is about recognizing the lives we are still living, and I wouldn’t be living this life without the people who came before me.

Trans history will never be fully erased because it is constantly being written. Our history is alive in our bodies - we are the experts on what we have lived through. Trans Day of Visibility is a chance for us to raise our collective voices and say, “we are alive, our contributions matter, and we honor our ancestors.” Trans people are often denied the right to be in mourning and are not seen as worthy of grief. In resistance, I celebrate the ways we have survived. Today, I uphold the living memory of Lucy Salani, the only known Italian trans woman to survive the Nazi concentration camps. She was a beautiful 99-year-old elder when she died in March 2023.

Lucy was nineteen when she was first drafted for the Italian army in 1943. She defected on numerous occasions, first from the Italian army and then the Nazi army when Germany overtook Italy.¹ She survived by working as a sex worker, meeting with clients in the German forces. Eventually, she was found and captured when one of them recognized her. She was sent to a forced labor camp and managed to escape, but was caught again and sent to a concentration camp:

October 1944, [Salani] was deported to the Dachau concentration camp, and had to wear a Pink Triangle. Salani had the task of marking corpses with number plates and transporting them to the crematorium or mass grave on carts. The camp was liberated by US troops on 29 April 1945. While many inmates were compelled into death marches away from the camp as US troops approached, Salani was in a group that was lined up and machine-gunned. Salani was hit in the leg but was found alive under dead inmates.²

Lucy survived unimaginable circumstances. She went on to live a life generally unknown to the public, moving around Europe and eventually undergoing gender reassignment surgery. It wasn’t until 2010 that her story was widely shared in the documentary Being Lucy (original title: Essere Lucy), written and directed by Gabriella Romano.³ By this time, she had spent a lifetime in activism for trans and gay rights, as well as holocaust awareness. “She became an advocate for concentration camp survivors, criticizing how they were ignored and forgotten.”⁴

Lucy Salani. This photo brings tears to my eyes. She reminds me of my grandma. Source.

I want a piece of Lucy’s bravery to live within me. I want to hear her voice and laughter. I am afraid to learn what she lived through, but I am more afraid to pass the chance of carrying her story with me. Many of the records of what happened in concentration camps were destroyed in order to hide the atrocities. The precious few memories live on in the stories we tell.

For me, Trans Day of Visibility is a day for shedding light on our lived experiences. I am openly trans all year. I know that trans people are visible because we face danger every day.⁵ Ironically, the very people legislating against us don’t always know when they’re speaking to a trans person. I can’t stop thinking about our future safety in this country.

I have to remember there are people still fighting for us, and we will continue to be here whether anyone likes it or not. But, we have to go further than the fact we have always been here. We still need to access healthcare, housing, and the right to livable lives. Our ancestors have struggled and died for what we have and it can’t be undone without resistance. Even if my life is lost to violence, I find comfort in knowing others will always survive.

I have a younger trans sibling who lives in the Midwest, far from me and the relative safety I enjoy here. I get to see him in person once every year or two. He has a medical condition that makes him reliant on our dad, who is not accepting of our identities. This makes it difficult to be as open with my brother as I’d like to be. My dad doesn’t take much interest in my life nor keep me up-to-date on my brother’s health and safety, and sometimes these walls feel insurmountable. It is difficult to maintain a long-distance connection with him. The best I can do is let him know my hand is always held out for him and cherish the memory of his smile the last time we reunited.

When my brother came out to our family, he was a late teenager. He was so sure and confident when he said, “I am a trans man, and my name is S.” I was in awe of his bravery. He gave me the courage to be more open with our family about myself, something I had been avoiding. Once I knew I wasn’t the only trans person, I couldn’t let him stand alone. Having this shared experience with him keeps our bond strong from afar. I’ve had pretty good conversations with our grandparents about my identity and hope to encourage them to be open about his. Amidst relatives who are not accepting, I will always show my brother that his wishes and identity are valued. I am his trans elder, full of admiration for the person he is.

I am openly trans for myself and my community. I want other people to see me and know they aren’t alone. No one in this world has to understand what being trans is or means. The experience of being trans is ineffable - I don’t think many of us could describe it perfectly. The knowledge that matters is the knowledge that helps us live full and free lives. I don’t have to be understood to be respected. I don’t have to be understood to be accepted as a full person deserving of safety and freedom of movement. There is magic in the wonder of my existence. Even if I could know exactly why I am who I am, I wouldn’t want to. I am trans and I am alive - that is all I need.

1. “Lucy Salani (1924-2023) upholsterer, concentration camp survivor” - A Gender Variance Who’s Who

2. “Lucy Salani (1924-2023) upholsterer, concentration camp survivor” - A Gender Variance Who’s Who

3. Books by Gabriella Romano: Italian Fascism’s Forgotten LGBT Victims (2024); The Pathologisation of Homosexuality in Fascist Italy (2018); Il mio nome è Lucy (2012)

4. “Lucy Salani (1924-2023) upholsterer, concentration camp survivor” - A Gender Variance Who’s Who

5. This is a notable difference in safety from what was reported in March 2024.