I was 18 when I finally purchased my first “secret” piece of medical equipment. It could crack ribs, bruise lungs and cause damage that prevents me from getting “the surgery,” should I ever choose to do so. But I had to bank on the knowledge of strangers from across the globe telling me the truth, that I was ordering the right one from a reputable source.
I’m talking about a binder.
Most don’t know what that is.
There are those familiar with the three-ringed office organizer, where to buy one, how it works and why it’s useful.
But only a few people know about chest binders, such as proper binding technique and why this type of binder is important to people like me. Among other things, it allows me to finally feel free and run around as an authentic version of myself.
When I first considered binders, I only knew a couple of people at the time who had the resources to buy one. But the company they had both chosen was no longer considered trustworthy. I was on my own. Luckily my hours of research paid off, my binder was perfect.
A binder is only a small part of my day, roughly worn for six to eight hours. It doesn’t account for other parts of my daily experiences like worrying about the dress code, my speech patterns and tone, or simply making a transaction at the bank. It also neglects to recognize larger impacts within my life, such as trauma, safety concerns (mental and physical), getting into relationships and learning how to live authentically.
My existence is a patchwork quilt: tearing pieces off, then rearranging and adding new colors and textures to redefine me. It is a beautiful creation, unique to myself and yet shared with the world. This fluidity is the very basis of my being, never being tied down to just one idea of a gender or self as I take what the world gives me and make it my own.
But there are plenty who are ignorant to the art of sewing, so to speak. Imagine admiring a quilt but not knowing how to make one on your own. Just glancing at the surface of a quilt does not tell you the stories behind every piece, each inner lining or the labor of love that went into making it. So, too, can many overlook the experiences that have shaped the transgender community and the manners in which we sew and mend together each “hole” or “imperfection” with a new fabric.
To tell transgender stories accurately, it must be ensured there are trans voices within the newsroom.
Just as with my binder, there are no guides on how this is being done. Much less how it should be done. Instead, there are only “paid affiliate links” as the monetization focuses on the division and controversy of my identity, not its humanity; our experiences.
In the midwest, where I grew up, my local newspaper did not tell any of these stories. There was no documentation of the words spit at me or items thrown at my loved ones. Every hateful act was swept to the side and left for the LGBTQ+ community – despite how little we had – to mourn.
There were individuals getting abused, kicked out of places and threatened for just existing. There was nobody keeping track.
Other times, there was joy, pride and celebration. Pride flags were flown in June and the first church in town came forward to openly proclaim its acceptance of LGBTQ+ people. Nobody was keeping track of that, either.
They are easily twisted, exaggerated and lost throughout a game of “safety telephone,” with the original speaker forgotten in messages of “He said that she said they said that-“.
This game removes the facts of what is occurring within my community, forcing us to place our safety, our lives, into how credible a person appears to be. We are not given the time or knowledge to do background checks like journalists can, we simply have hope and wait to be proven right or wait to be burned by the flame to learn wrong. It is a gamble and LGBTQ+ individuals deserve more than a roll of the dice to determine their wellbeing.
These individuals, while a minority, are not small, by any means. There are friends, family members, coworkers, peers and all sorts of community members who are impacted by this issue. We are the cashier at the grocery store, mechanic for your oil change, app developers, artists and so much more.
Without proper awareness or understanding of these issues – and the manner in which something as common as shoes could result in the loss of my life – it is nearly impossible for them to be accurately covered without trans voices in the newsroom.
I am nonbinary and transmasculine. I see issues that others may miss in the very way that I am ignorant to concerns that my cisgendered counterparts may have.
Just like the idea of a “binder,” I immediately think of the path that’s often overlooked because of the way it intersects into my life: For me, it is life-altering. An office tool? Not so much.
As a journalist, I am aware of the importance of sharing news and information about the community. Immediately my mind is abuzz with ideas: Is there anywhere nearby that has chest binders? Who is accessing them? Is it being advertised anywhere? What is the cost? Are people binding safely? What are people risking to get one?
It is not just one story, it is dozens that branch out from this piece of the quilt. It is not just obtaining things to make yourself “appear trans,” it is living through the process and everything in between, such as getting stares from older people and learning to feel unwelcome in places that once felt like home. It is finding and building new areas into a community. It is the beauty of humanity as people come together and share their very being with others.
There are hundreds of stories being overlooked by newsrooms because they lack minority voices. One cannot learn what they are missing unless they diversify their places of work and get input on the unknown.
Allies are an important part of this ecosystem, yes. But in times where my very existence is being debated in the legislature daily and pillars of my hometown community see me as subhuman, allies are no longer adequate.
The re-humanization of our lives and stories is a must. The best people to find and tell these stories are ones who also know the pain.
If a cisgender person wrote my story, I could not fault them for overlooking my struggles. But they didn’t have to live wondering if they would be called their own name at graduation, or which name they could go by at work in order to be guaranteed adequate hours of pay. They don’t know the calculation or fear that goes into decisions such as hairstyles or even laughing at jokes. They have not had to consider the risks and rewards that are experienced by being trans.
I have had to endure all of those and so much more. Being trans is not a trend or one aspect of my identity. If I took out even a few threads from my patchwork quilt, my existence would be fundamentally altered. Allies, though well intentioned, could easily get lost while observing this quilt.
Being conscious that the stories of trans people exist in a different capacity than most realize is not enough. This is what allows the politicization of my identity to continue. Yes, I am not the norm, but I am not an oddity. I am a person with dreams, goals and beliefs. I am a student in a classroom, a brother, a mentor and an employee.
I exist in many roles and capacities throughout the communities I live in, no matter whether a senator believes I am “real” or not. My news is not politics, my news is how my community is able to celebrate and define our existence as a people. We are more than idle thought and consideration, we are here and we are everywhere.
If a newsroom is to serve its own community and readership, it must accept this fact. If a transgender journalist worked on the newspaper within my hometown, I would no longer be an afterthought. I would no longer exist in the pages as a singular voice for protections for the LGBTQ+ youth of my hometown.
Instead, there would be trustworthy stories documenting the experiences of my loved ones. No longer would this game of telephone exist, with its risky search for chest binders and learning the hard way about who and what is safe. There would be accessible resources and discussions.
The energy would be refocused onto the heart of my identity, onto me. With proper coverage, each piece of my quilt, and the hundreds of thousands others that exist within the trans community could be covered. Not to merely be discussed, but to be seen, wholly and truly.
Newspapers are necessary for healthy and functional communities. They are how individuals keep up with important stories and learn everything occurring around them.Trans people bring necessary assets and information into newsrooms that are being undervalued, it is time that changes.
Transgender people are vital to newsrooms everywhere.
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