February 11, 2023, the day after my 16th birthday, I found myself staring at my phone. I was holding eye contact with a beautiful girl, her dirty blonde hair bordered on ginger as it floated in front of her bright smile. She had glasses like mine and a sweater like mine. She was holding a piece of chocolate in her raised hand as if to offer it to me. She had been murdered. Stabbed by her own classmates with a hunting knife. Her name was Brianna Ghey, she was 16, and just like me, she was transgender. I had known I was trans for 3 years at this point, but I still lived in fear. Being raised in northwest Arkansas I never learned how to describe these feelings, only that they were alien and therefore unspeakable. I convinced myself that my only option was to independently figure myself out in secret, so I turned to the only source I had - Camp Mitchell. I had been attending this summer camp my whole life, and an isolated week on the mountain with none of my usual friends was a perfect testing ground for my new identity. Over the various weekends, weeks, or months I spent at camp I slowly shaped a new name, a new face, a new identity. I decided that on my 16th birthday, I would finally begin showing myself to the world, and then I met Brianna Ghey. A year later on February 8th, 2024, 2 days before my 17th birthday, I picked up my phone again to learn of Nex Benedict. Another transgender 16 year old who had been pummeled to death by their classmates. Except this time there wasn’t an ocean between us, only an hour's drive. All of a sudden I was confronted with a question: Would I have to die for people to finally learn my name? The internet had shown me horror story after horror story of people just like me and I found myself petrified. I lay there in my room, staring at the mottled shadows cast by my popcorn ceiling, my playlist shuffled. Ethel Cain’s Sun Bleached Flies sounded slowly through my room. I’d heard this song plenty of times and had grown a strong love for Ethel Cain. She was from the South and she was trans, just like me. As her singing filled my ears and lungs I sat up. I saw the Alex Consani Vogue covers and the Andreja Pejić GQ cover I had pinned to my walls months earlier. I saw the Jane Remover and David Bowie albums on my bookshelf. Everywhere I looked I saw evidence of life that had not just survived but flourished. As the music crescendoed, Ethel’s voice reverberated through my brain saying: “If it’s meant to be, then it will be.” Now, I find myself freshly 18 and proudly Samantha, I face the college application process and begin to think of future careers. It's a frightening time for people like me in this country, but that's exactly why I need to be me. If I could be an Alex Consani, a Sarah Mcbride, a Camp Mitchell to any kid out there like me, I want to be. I hope to pursue either an English degree or a social work degree to allow me the opportunity to set an example for those like me. Whether that path is through education, disaster relief, social representation, or camp directing, all I could hope for is to inspire and show those like me that we are truly meant to be.