That time I got schooled by a 20-year-old

"Has that happened to you before?"

In trans years, I’m old as hell.

I’m so old, I’m a Trampa.

I’m so old, soon I’m going to have to say I have “salt and pepper hair— more salt than pepper.”

As such, I’ve been canceled a lot of times. I was canceled before we even called it “canceled.” So I have built up a certain tolerance to being told I have messed up. I got to a place where I welcomed the chance to be a better human; I saw it as a sign that others trusted me enough to tell me where I went wrong.

But lately— the past few years— the tone of cancelation has become even more brutal. Instead of hearing that I’d made a mistake, had stepped on toes, had used problematic language… I started hearing that I was trash. That I should kill myself. That they were coming for me and my family.

After earnestly trying to build up a tolerance for this onslaught, I left social media entirely. My body still tells me the world isn’t safe for me— that around every corner is another person who believes I am disposable.

I’m told that I need to slowly, intentionally begin putting myself out there again. To build new neural connections between myself and the world so I learn that danger exists, sure, but so does safety and love and community and compassion.

My first attempt was a conference: Creating Change 2023. I was scheduled to teach fertility to an audience of trans folks, and each rehearsal with my co-presenter sent my body into shivers. My hands shook as I built the slides; my voice quivered as I said my words over Zoom. I realized I had to tell my colleague what I was going through, so he was aware of my anxiety.

“I’m most afraid that people will throw things at me, and say that I have no right to be up there talking about this. Like, who do I think I am. You know?”

He sat in silence for a moment, really hearing what I was trying to convey.

“Okay,” he responded slowly. “So… has that ever happened to you in the past? Has anyone ever done that when you’ve presented before?”

It was a simple question— an innocent one. But it sent me spinning. I thought back to the dozens of in-person events I’d done over the past 20 years. The many stages and microphones. The flip charts and slide decks. The folding chairs and raised hands.

“No,” I answered him, as the answer dawned on me. “No, it hasn’t. People don’t do that in person— just online. You’re right. It hasn’t happened before and it probably won’t happen this time.”

And suddenly, I could breathe. My fear right-sized itself and I came out of the trance I’d been living in. For me, a stage is safe. A room is safe. An audience is safe. Any place where living, breathing humans can see that I, too, am a living, breathing human… that place is safe for me.

By asking a simple question, my co-presenter (a 22-year-old college student who’s been acting as my intern for the last three months) taught me more than months of therapy had.

“Has that happened to you before?”

If the answer is no, it’s likely not to happen this time. Because, as I mentioned before, I’m hella old. And if it hasn’t happened to me before, it’s not likely to happen now. And I can let the fear go.