John,
Robert Frost wrote, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by.” For me, that less traveled road is the intersection of being Black and transgender. Every day, I stand at that crossroads, guided by an inner compass, knowing each step is critical – not just for myself, but for the communities I bridge simply by existing.
We live in a time of division, where lines seem to harden and trust erodes. Institutions falter, and the future can feel uncertain. Yet, tapping into the resilience of my ancestors, the love of my chosen family, I found an unyielding spirit, a rebellious readiness for whatever.
Since the election last year, I’ve poured my energy into nurturing my communities. I was the "well of shea butter and joy," checking in on folks, offering encouragement, striving to uplift with a laugh. But by the time we made it to the first week in February, that well ran dry.
The weight of the world, the relentless attacks on transgender rights – even here in Virginia where I’ve been fighting on the legislative lines professionally – began to take their toll.
Imagine this: Fighting legislative battles to protect my transgender family, then turning around to explain to my own Black family – loved ones who still struggle to understand – why these fights matter, why I need their support when it feels like so much is being taken away.
When you’re navigating the corporate world as a Black man and then come to the family cookouts, where your transgender identity makes you the "black sheep," where do you turn? Who truly understands the complexities of this journey? These are the questions I grapple with daily, parked in this intersection.
But during Black History and Futures Month, I've been powerfully reminded of something vital: we are writing Black History right now. I am Martin’s dream realized. Like Marsha, I am a legend in my own time.
And when I feel lost at that intersection, I remember the paths blazed by Black transgender pioneers like Angelica Ross, Brian Michael Smith, and Charley Burton. They navigated similar scary, yet liberating intersections, and created extraordinary history.
Now, it's my generation, my Black transgender siblings and allies in the fight, our time to do the same.
Your Favorite Face In The Fight,
JaiVyn Whitehead (he/him)
Development Manager
Equality Virginia
