I spent my Monday advocating for trans rights.
“Advocacy” can mean a lot of things, of course. A social media post, calling a representative, building community, writing a blog post. Some people think of it as just reading the news. I think I’ve thought of it as all of those things at some point in my life.
Today, however, advocacy meant something very specific, and that was going to the state capitol to meet with my representatives. After I was up, I head out to my car (because there’s no reliable public transit from Seattle to Olympia). It is, tragically, a 2019 Tesla Model 3, which basically represents the most hated billionaire transphobe in the world right now. I tried counter signal last night, attaching a trans pride flag to the trunk for the drive south. Alas, someone last night saw it and stole it. I tried to be generous, and hoped it was a trans kid who didn’t have any money but needed a flag. I worry though that it’s one of my neighbors, angry at my expression of pride.
I set out for Olympia. The capitol is about 67 miles south from our house. Without traffic, it’s about an hours drive, and with bad traffic, about two. I love Olympia in some ways; it has a classic west coast downtown, a college, and a cluster of classical Roman capitol buildings, set against a lake, and flanked by a memorial, a farmers market, and downtown. Every time I go, I feel my own Pacific Northwest sense of democracy, nestled amongst nature, ideas, and bit of drizzle, and some coffee. It feels a bit identity-less, much Washington state does in general.
I wasn’t going alone. The day was organized by Gender Justice League, a not-for-profit focused on human rights for two spirit, trans, and gender diverse people in Washington state. Each year, the League takes advantage of the Monday President’s Day holiday to organize meetings with as many state Senators, Representatives, and their staffers as possible, inviting folks from around the state to visit with their representatives, and lobby for the relevant bills in consideration in the state legislature, with a bit of prep before and rally after.
The morning began a hotel down the street from the capitol, with about 200 advocates, trans and cis, crammed into a damp meeting space with cold brew, oranges, and donuts. The room had the usual janky hotel challenges, with no amplification and not enough seats. But the League staff and the many volunteers made the most of it, keeping everyone accountable to getting information, organizing groups. Our agenda started off with a bit of an introduction to lobbying, followed by a review of the bills under consideration, and then ending with a few tips about how to spend our 10–15 meetings with representatives and staffers.
I came representing the 46th legislative district, which covers most of northeast Seattle. There were seven other folks who joined, from Wedgwood, Pinehurst, Wallingford, the University District, and other neighborhoods in Seattle that everyone forgets about. We had a good group of trans folks and allies, not quite as big as the massive group from Capitol Hill (a particularly queer neighborhood north of downtown), but definitely bigger than necessary, given the strong support of trans rights from our representatives.
Others came from more hostile districts. Many of their representatives declined to meet, or had a history of being hostile in meetings. This split the room into folks who were there to shore up support by being present, and to alert representatives to bills they might have missed; and those who were entering hostile territory, who had to be ready to argue for their humanity. Unfortunately, since the latter group tends to be folks from central and eastern rural Washington, these were also the folks who had the furthest trip to make to Olympia. That meant that those in most need of defending had the fewest there to represent them. The organizers reallocated some folks to these hostile meetings, to ensure they had a voice.
The bills under consideration were:
- HB 1296, a bill that amends last year’s parental bill of rights (i-2081), which forced schools to violation trans youth’s privacy by outing them to hostile parents. This new bill defined a statement of student rights, guaranteed student privacy from parents, includes explicit anti-bullying measures for trans youth. The Democrats promised to fix it in this year’s session, and so our lobbying for this bill was all about followthrough.
- SB 5179, a bill that holds school boards who are violating Washington’s anti-discrimination policies against queer and trans students by creating transparency, training, reporting, and consequences for boards that are hostile to trans youth. This bill, as a companion to HB 1296, creates consequences for not following HB 1296.
- HB 1604, a bill that gives trans and intersex people in jail agency over who conducts their search. Currently, every time someone incarcerated is transferred, they are usually subjected to a search by a hostile, gruff male prison guard. This bill allows them to be searched by staff of their choice, or a medical professional.
Our district 46 group broke off to form our advocacy plan. We shared our positionality and lived experiences in relation to the bills. Some of us worked with trans youth, others had been to jail. Others were their as supportive allies. The League gave us little sheets to prepare our talking points, and we collectively decided who would speak, and who would play support roles, keeping time, taking notes, and doing introductions. We made our game plan, then set out down the street to the capitol.
The campus was a bit chaotic. This is one of the only weekdays in session that’s a holiday, and so Planned Parenthood was there, a large 50501 march was outside, and various other smaller groups, like a union, were present. As one of the co-leads of the group, I brought my teacher energy, helping everyone find the rooms, know where to go, made sure everyone felt ready. Our first meeting was with Senator Valdez’s staff. Our two speakers, both trans, were fantastic, linking their lives and the people they support to the bills. Valdez was a champion of all of them — and a co-sponsor of one— and so the main thing the staffers wanted from us was stories and a photograph, to keep Senator Valdez in the fight.
After Valdez, we ventured to find Representative Farivar’s office. We had a time, 11:50–12:00, but no location, so my co-lead and I roamed the Legislative Hall, asking security guards about where her office was. It turned out it was in another building. About a minute before we gathered, one of Farivar’s staff came racing out of breath and said, “Is someone from Gender Justice League?” We all said in unison, “that’s us!” She apologized that the Representative wouldn’t make it, as she was called to the floor, and we all crammed into the corner of a lobby outside the Representative’s office. One of our group talked about the education safety bill, and then I talked about the board accountability bill. Another strategically mentioned knowing one of the Representative’s childhood friends. And then we took a group photo. I watched carefully as the staffer took diligent notes about the bills, many of which she wasn’t yet aware of.
With our meetings done, we ventured out to Tivoli fountain, where the League had a few tents set up with food and drinks for lunch. I grabbed a pastrami sandwich and talked about therapy and care work with one of the social workers in our group. We talked about just how much energy its taking to care for everyone now, which doesn’t leave much for the fight. But then we forgave ourselves, remembering that we came all the way to the capitol to be visible to our legislative advocates, and that we weren’t tired yet.
We ended the day with a rally on the steps of the Capitol building. Planned Parenthood spoke; our new Attorney General, who has taken up the mantle of suing the White House multiple times in the past 4 weeks like our last AG, said he was hungry for a fight; a Senator and a Representative sponsoring the bills spoke, and then the Insurance Commissioner promised to preserve access to gender affirming care, as is promised by state law. Intermixed were several trans youth from Planned Parenthood’s youth advisory councils, who were hilarious, cute, and fiery, somehow all at once. We all had a good yell, a bright woo, and more than a clap or two.
One speaker, the mother of one of the first trans kids to testify to the U.S. congress several years ago, reminded us: our time to come together in moments like this to rally, make demands, and find each other, are rare. We need to store them up, and remember this energy the next time we are in despair or feeling isolated. I looked up at the clouds, which were rapidly rolling in, and told myself to be present: every single person on these steps and on the street, maybe thousands, are fighting this fight with me.
The rally ended, and it started to pour. We all shuffled back to the hotel, dropped off our notes, said goodbye. I sat in my tragic Musk-mobile and listened to the rain fall hard on its hood. This is just the beginning of a long war. Take a deep breath, get home safely, and fight again another day.
