When I was a kid, I used to play mermaids in my neighbor’s pool. I was frustrated that I couldn’t breathe underwater. This would be funny among my trans friends because, due to the creature’s transformative abilities, the community has often used mermaids as a trans allegory. But I look back and think about myself below the surface. I would open my eyes and see the hazy pool lights around me, I would pretend that I was breathing, and I believed, with enough patience and power, my underwater existence was possible.
I would be lying if I didn’t say the Hill felt like the moment before I came up for water, a tightness in my throat and a racing heartbeat. As a trans person working on the Hill at the start of the second Trump Administration, I decided not to tell my office about my identity. It was safer that way. I figured if I stayed under the radar in my office, no one would find out; but I quickly learned that by hiding, I was losing my seat at the table.
I found ways to pursue the issues I am interested in, without threatening my safety. I went to briefings and wrote memos on queer and trans topics, and learned that, while the administration is trying to push me below the surface, with enough perseverance, I can breathe underwater.
When I look back at my internship, I will not remember the threats to my existence. I will remember how I fought for a seat at the table, I will remember LGBTQ+ Victory Institute and the community I built. I will remember my office, which gave me the space to learn, grow, and gave my younger mermaid self a future to be proud of.
I now see that, while the Administration tries to push us below water, trans people are like mermaids – we thrive underwater.
