Embracing Transgender Visibility in My Fiction

Embracing Transgender Visibility in My Fiction

March 31 is the Transgender Day of Visibility, a day to celebrate and honor the vibrant lives and powerful contributions of transgender people. It’s also a day to remember the very real struggles—poverty, discrimination, violence—that many trans individuals face daily. I want to say to my transgender friends that I see you and love you.

For years, I’ve wanted to write a transgender character into my books. It’s a natural fit, as my stories revolve around identity, empowerment, and finding yourself. And yet every time I’ve begun to outline such a character, I’ve hesitated. What if I get them wrong? What if, despite my good intentions, I accidentally reinforce harmful stereotypes or misunderstand someone’s truth?

I am bisexual and wrote Andrew, a bisexual man, in Painting Celia. I felt reasonably able to write him from my own experiences. I also wrote Trevor, a gay man, and did my best to let his sexuality inform but not define him. Trevor’s past (being shunned by his Mormon family) had a profound impact but he wasn’t reduced to this experience alone. Instead, it made him empathetic, resilient, and driven to support young, struggling artists. His orientation was integral to his story but not tokenized or superficial.

I’m currently working on Kelsey’s novel and decided that today is the day I work on how to write my transgender character with grace (or at least try). I’ve found good resources online, like the “Reporter Guide to Covering Transgender People, Topics, and Legislation” by Angela Dallara at GLAAD. The lessons there are basic, and more people need to know them.

Honestly, it’s a simple ask. I need to center my transgender character as a fully dimensional person, as I did with Trevor. Reducing her solely to their transition or identity struggles would be tokenism. Instead, I’ll let her share her joys, ambitions, and everyday moments.

Transgender Day of Visibility is about visibility, but visibility must be authentic. I’ve been watching the Netflix show “The Sandman,” which includes a non-binary character portrayed with refreshing subtlety and normalization. Their gender identity wasn’t the center of the narrative but integrated naturally through pronouns and references, allowing their true personality to shine through. That’s the kind of visibility that has to continue.

I’ve let fear stop me from writing characters that matter. Even having my books reviewed by sensitivity readers hasn’t completely soothed my fears. But now, equipped with more knowledge and understanding, I feel empowered to at least try approaching the character I’ve wanted to write for three years.

I’ve been seeing her in my mind for a long time. Jewel is a softly luminous woman, around twenty-seven, with golden skin and gentle dark eyes. She’s grounded and earthy, thin and barefoot, moving through the world with a dreamy preoccupation. Jewel is tall and wears caftans that are too short, tracks moon phases, and leaves small bundles of flowers behind her. She navigates life with paper maps rather than a smartphone. Jewel can be flighty and impractical but her empathy and strength helps others bloom with her. She was assigned male at birth, and she is a woman. Jewel has faced challenges, and while I worry about portraying her perfectly, I’m committed to writing her as authentically and compassionately as possible.

On the 2025 Transgender Day of Visibility, I commit to learning more, listening better, and creating narratives that uplift. I owe it to my readers and to Jewel. Most importantly, I owe it to my transgender neighbors and friends whose stories deserve to be told well.