Senior year of high school was miserable for me. Pressure from school, my grandfather’s passing, my grandmother’s worsening health, and the uncertainty I felt about my sexual and gender identity were the perfect mental health storm. With much sadness, I dropped out of school midway through the year. Depression and anxiety are still a part of my life, but the confidence I have gained from being open about my gender identity functions as a bedrock for me. Once I became comfortable with my transgender, nonbinary identity, gender dysphoria was replaced with joy. I was incredibly lucky to be born to parents who are supportive of my transgender identity. And yet, of all the other transgender people I have met, few have had accepting parents. Many were thrown out of their homes. Some have faced violence. This needs to change. Young transgender people must be taken seriously and be treated with dignity. Mental health can be a struggle for young trans people, but emotional support and acceptance from family and peers has real, measurable effects to improve self-esteem and reduce self-harm. Research has shown that LGBTQ+ children whose families accept their identities are up to 50% less likely to attempt suicide, are less likely to show symptoms of depression, and on average have better mental health outcomes than LGBTQ+ children whose parents fail to support them. Finding community was essential for improving my own mental health. For young trans people with unsupportive parents, peer support can mean the difference between safety and danger, success or failure. And lastly, parents need to be there for their transgender children. With the right support, trans youth can lead healthier, happier lives.

I used to believe that good students were always a certain kind of person—young, ambitious, hyper-competitive, and endlessly optimistic. I have met some students who resemble all these traits, and they are often incredible people. Yet, I always felt like that was not who I am. I enjoy a little bit of competition, but I like cooperation much more. Keeping myself busy is helpful, but I also enjoy taking my time to process things slowly. This archetype I kept measuring myself against, the “ideal student” pursuing the “ideal career,” always left me feeling alienated and insecure. Tutoring at my local community college showed me that there are many kinds of students, and that college is important for so many different reasons. College is not just for future lawyers, doctors, and CEOs. It can teach practical skills, enrich the mind, bring communities together, and make people better citizens. At the time of writing, I still work as a peer tutor. I have learned so much at this job—about creativity, about community college students, and about myself. It has kept my writing sharp and completely shifted my perspective on what makes a good student. I’ve tutored students more than three times my age; students with disabilities; students for whom English is their third or fourth language; ones who are high school students, or have multiple jobs, ones who are noncitizens, or who have children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, or some combination of all these things. Every student can learn and grow, and everyone needs help and encouragement from time to time. I have learned that every person’s needs are unique, but we all share one fundamental thing in common—fear of English 102.

When I was seventeen years old and in the early stages of accepting my transgender identity, my shame was all-encompassing. I have been "out" for four years now, and pride is all I feel about my nonbinary identity. Over the span of just a few years, the rights, representation, and respect for transgender people have grown such that people like me are increasingly able to live their lives as authentically themselves. There is still a long way to go for the full acceptance of transgender people, but society is moving in the right direction. I have hope that my community will someday have the safety and liberty we have always deserved. Meeting other nonbinary people at community college was a watershed moment for me. Some of us faced violence and bigotry at work or even at home, but we made sure to the best of our ability that the campus could be safe for us. We held support groups, game nights, and even school dances for the college LGBT+ community. The fact we were able to exist visibly at community college was so important for students' wellbeing. A few decades ago, none of this visibility would have been possible. History, anthropology, and archaeology have shown that transgender people have been present in some way in all cultures throughout time, regardless of the oppression we may face. There are stories of gender fluidity from the earliest written records we have, which almost certainly means that transgender people existed before writing was invented. Variety in gender expression has existed even in highly patriarchal times and places. In fact, our current ideas and expectations of gender and sexuality are relatively new; words like "homosexuality" were only invented in the late 19th century. Third genders exist in many cultures, and they often have a social role with deep spiritual importance. Being transgender is not, and has never been, a fad. My gender does not make me inferior, nor does it make me less moral. They/them pronouns are not going to destroy civilization, no matter what the latest clickbait headline or vote-hungry politician might say. I want to live in a society where no one is oppressed for their gender, and it is my belief that we are slowly moving towards this dream of equality. That is why I have hope.