None so great a hardship has befallen me than that of my own identity. As a transgender man, I reflect often on how I became the person I am today. I never even thought I would make it this far: a successful college freshman, with a beautiful girlfriend and an amazing life. In my youth, I was always very isolated from the rest of my class. I had very low self esteem and my social skills were rough around the edges to say the least. This effect only compounded as I got older and the social world became more complex. Little did I know that what made me so different and so socially impaired compared to my peers was that I was born in the wrong body. I had always experienced a severe disconnect between how I felt and how I appeared. I recall cutting at my own body with scissors in just elementary school in an attempt to make at least something feel right. This anguish continued through middle school and carried into high school when I made my first suicide attempt. My self-hatred had grown so much and I couldn't even understand why. I had such an intrinsic dislike for my body, that I didn't know any better life to live. When I decided to end it, things became more clear. The onset of puberty had only exacerbated my symptoms. Through years of subsequent therapy, I came to realize: I am transgender. This means that, although I was born in a female body, my heart and mind are very much that of a male. Suddenly everything fell into place. Why I was so ostracized from other girls when I was young. Why I had such a deep-seeded hatred and disconnect from my body. The realization finally made me feel whole, after 17 years of feeling like millions of disjointed pieces. With this hurdle behind me, I feel like I can accomplish anything. I feel like I can surmount any obstacle and face any challenge. I am ready to take on the world and all of its beauty. I am grateful every day for the opportunity to be myself. I have grown so much over the past 7 years, I am hardly recognizable. Coming from someone who never thought they would make it this far: it is worth it. It is worth it to endure and heal and grow. It is worth it to get help and follow your heart. It is worth it to continue living.

The meaning of life is not something one can qualify, especially not as a broad-sweeping statement across all of humanity. We, as a people, are so diverse that there can be no one meaning to guide us all. Nevertheless, humanity wonders. What must be our purpose? This often alludes to the reason we were created. That being said, I argue that there is inherently no meaning, none at all. At least, none to tell us why we were created or what our explicit purpose is, but rather there are billions of unique meanings that make us who we are. To seek the meaning of life, one must look deep inside to find one's own, true purpose. Maybe this is one thing: to save the world; or perhaps it is many. When I look inside myself, into my future, my dreams, I see an advocate. I see someone who lifts every forgotten and downtrodden voice and elevates them so that they may be heard. I see someone who fights for what is right and never settles for less than that. That is my purpose, my meaning of life. Now, look inside yourself, what is yours?

To say that theatre is my passion would be an understatement. I have spent the last seven years of my life (which is a lot for a 19 year old), dedicated to the craft, engaged in and out of the classroom at every opportunity that came my way. I am now a Theatre Design and Technology major at the University of Central Florida with a heart set on scenic and lighting design. As for my vision, I am determined to become an advocate through my art. Too many important voices are lost in the cacophony of society for me to leave them unheard. This includes every queer, Black, Indigenous, poor, disabled voice that struggles to rise above their oppressors. It is my vision to lift these voices as best I can, to work to tell their stories and share what these people have to offer. Through advocacy and engagement, I intend to change lives for the better, to change society for the better. I have gained such a vision through my own indescribable hardship. As a transgender man, most of my life, my true voice has been silenced. Even after my coming out, there has been an endless assault on my dignity, my health, and my existence as a person from peers and legislature alike. It is my dream to end this relentless discrimination; not just for transgender people but for all those oppressed in society. I know it will take innumerable hours of work, and frankly unimaginable amounts of dedication, but I am determined nonetheless to take my chip out of the great mountain that lies before us.

Empathy, hand in hand with kindness and compassion, plays a large role in how we choose to interact with people. I use empathy on a daily basis to solve problems in a team setting. If one member of our team has a disagreement with myself or another, I empathize with their situation and their feelings in order to find the root of the problem. Without this kind of response, conflicts can escalate and destroy a team before it has the chance to complete its goal. On an individual level, I often practice treating others with empathy when I encounter someone whose beliefs and experiences are different than my own. For example, it takes a great degree of empathy for me, a white person, to engage with anti-racist efforts as I have no direct, personal experience with racial oppression. Through empathy I am able to perceive and embody the emotional toll that such experiences have on people of color and construct a productive response. I am always sure to treat others with empathy as that is how I would want others to treat me. If someone else hadn't taken the time to empathize with me or my situation, I may never be understood personally or socially. I might never get the help I need. So, I am dedicated to using empathy and being that help for others.

Mars, not like the planet, but a transgender artist responsible for a body positivity and transgender self-love movement. He understands and teaches on the personal, spiritual, life-changing struggle that is being transgender. He has inspired me to love myself and pursue my passions as an artist. "Trans joy is resistance."

The life expectancy of a black transgender woman is only 35 years. As a transgender man myself, I was floored upon reading this for the first time. Though its validity is debated, I have no doubt on the reality of this statistic for countless transgender people. With every breaking news story of a trans man assaulted, or trans woman murdered, I am forced to face the reality of my identity in the workings of society as a whole. Transgender people are continually shown that they are not welcome, that their lives are unimportant, and that their contributions are worthless. I am determined to change this narrative. As a living, breathing representative of the transgender community, I have made my first positive and valuable impact just by surviving, by coming out and pursuing my best self. For me, that is not enough. I want to prove to the world that every trans life is valuable and important. My first step is through the arts. The arts are humanity's most personal and revealing reflection, more so than any mirror. So, by pursuing a degree in the creation of theatre, by bringing transgender identity and ideas to the table, I broaden this reflection of humanity beyond the cisgender, heterosexual normalcy that it prefers. In my experience, "transgender" is a word only whispered, even in the arts. The image of the transgender person, or "transvestite" is dominated by celebrated yet simultaneously mocked caricatures such as Tim Curry's Frank N. Furter in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. "Transgender" as an identity is most often reduced to such caricatures as gaudy, overtly sexualized, and unmistakably identifiable. In reality, transgender people come from all backgrounds, live in all walks of life, operate in all fields of study, and experience the same breadth of personality as anyone who wasn't transgender. If the audiences eyes were opened to just one more transgender character, just one more coming out, just one more transgender success story, they would be forced to realize how this artistry reflects on the real world. I will admit, I struggled to reach this conclusion. For years, I believed that if I wasn't curing cancer, or becoming president of the world, then my contributions would not be enough. With the constant reinforcement of the value of STEM careers, I was left hopeless with a paintbrush in one hand and a wrench in the other. It wasn't until I was introduced to the real art of theatre that I believed in the value of my passions. I wasn't going to be relegated to a career I didn't love for the sake of STEM, I would find influence and positive impacts my own way. This newfound passion for creation was only multiplied by my realization that I was transgender. I learned that, with the arts, with my paintbrush, I could teach others, I could uplift my community, and prove the worth of every transgender life by pursuing what I love. Though my passion lies behind the stage, I know that my ideas and influence over the productions I work on will be enough to assert this goal onto the performance. There is a little bit of "transgender" in all of the work that I do, and I don't mean secret flags or covert references. I mean that my contributions as a transgender person will pave the way for other transgender artists. I mean that my story of passion and success will show the world that we are not unimportant, that we are not society's leftovers, that we can be intelligent and as vividly alive as any other person.

October 26th, 2019: I turned in my ticket at the door, allowing just enough time for one deep breath to settle my nerves. I was a junior attending my very first Homecoming dance, having been too afraid to face crowds before. Prior to this day, I was Florida’s Rapunzel. Soft, sweet, naive, with trademarked golden hair trailing to my knees. It was the staple of my identity, having never cut it after first grade. As an unremarkable girl, it was my defining feature. So when I finally took my place, stepping timidly onto the dance floor, I became an entirely different person. I could breathe, despite a chest so tightly bound. Being absolutely and undeniably unremarkable could never be the man I was that night. I wouldn’t call it a “coming out” and much as it was a “coming in;” as if for the first time, I wasn’t a spectator in my own life. My voice was my own. I could walk and smile without an iron grip tugging at the back of my head. I could suddenly strut and dance and hold hands with buzzed sides and a neatly tailored coif. There was no facet that wasn’t entirely, devotedly me. As superficial as it seems, hair was the last thing holding me back from discovering my identity as a trans man. Admittedly there was nothing that surprising about the experience. I had the telltale signs in my younger years, having rejected most assertions about my gender. As people start to mature, their bodies deviate from the amorphous blobs that are children. Like many transgender people, by eleven I was filled with an unfamiliar and overwhelming hatred for my body. Dysphoria took control over my life. I endured years of self-scrutiny, self-harm, and self-starvation with no end in sight. In retrospect, it was a very dark period of my life but since then I have taken measures to preserve my health and wellbeing. Realizing my true identity was the first step to solving the puzzle. My saga of grappling with mental illness was nearly over after that. The vast emotional real estate left in the wake provided more than enough room to support others who share my story. Now, I am the Transgender Representative at my school’s Gender Sexuality Alliance. I have become a leader. The trans youth of my community have someone to look up to; one who has found the other side and survived. Belonging to a family as beautiful as this has allowed me to become compassionate and nurturing and brave. There is no obstacle I won’t face on behalf of my peers. I have dedicated myself to spreading awareness, resources, and supporting those who need me. It feels like a true calling. I have found so much beauty in living after years of indiscriminate strife. It’s a sensation I can never forget. That night in October was the first time seeing the world through my own eyes, feeling it with my own hands.

I was seven years old when I participated in my first performance. I played a horse (my favorite animal at the time), costume and all, on a farm made up of first graders. Despite how scared I was at the time, this introduction to theatre would alter the course of my entire life. As of today, I am eighteen years old with six consecutive years of theatre work under my belt. There are no words to fully describe the impact that theatre has had on my life. From skill building, to finding community, there isn't a facet of my life that hasn't been touched. During my years on the stage and behind it, I have learned more about life and the real world than I ever have sitting at a school desk. The most profound and involved kind of education is one that exists uniquely on the stage. Artists such as myself must face their own fears, take criticism with grace, and adapt to constantly changing surroundings as the production comes to life around them. I have also learned innumerable practical skills. In my younger years, I experienced severe social anxiety. Now, I am able to face front of house duties calmly and boldly, all while interacting with strangers. This took years of practice and failure. I have never been challenged more than I have in the theatre. There, I have been able to grow and thrive as an artist and as a person. So, it is where I intend to stay. The unique challenges that theatre artists face pale in comparison to the lifelong bonds that they form. Working on a production builds incomparable friendships and makes connections that otherwise would never be available. In such a diverse and well-rounded community, artists may immerse themselves in a celebration of their craft. Whether it be stage construction, sound design, or onstage performance, every artist has the opportunity to connect with others in a productive and cooperative way. In my life this has been the foundation of all of my lasting friendships, as we have bled, sweat, and cried over our work together, unifying us until the end. As my theatrical career carries on, I will build skill after skill and friendship after friendship. However, there is one important aspect of theatre that I have yet to touch upon: the audience. The two core components of theatre are the performer who expresses meaning and the audience who must interpret it. For every production, there is a lesson to be learned, a reflection to be made. So, I may touch the lives of others through the message presented on the stage. In my life, I advocate often for social and personal change. On the stage, I communicate these ideas in a paracosm of real life. Ultimately, when I touch the lives of others, I am enabling them to reflect on their lives, and how their experience relates to the one portrayed. Is there a problem to be solved? A change to be made? Perhaps they will realize something about themselves that they never realized. That is the impact I want, the goal that I chase. Through theatre, one of the pinnacles of human communication, I want to change lives.