Harvey Milk was right

Last night I got a text from my mom that she had a “very upsetting” conversation with one of her friends about “Transgender kids & school bathrooms.” She wanted to me to call her.

I didn’t call her, partly because I was nursing a hangover, but mostly because I didn’t feel like I had the courage to hear what mean thing someone I love and have grown up with and spent holidays with, had to say about me and my community.

A little context: I grew up in Fullerton, Orange County. If you’re not familiar with Orange County, imagine a bunch of white, wealthy Republicans, sitting around, smoking cigars and judging people (the ninth circle of hell).

Alright alright, there’s more to it than that, but suffice it to say you couldn’t pay me to live there ever again and it is certainly not the greatest place to grow up LGBT. In fact, I cannot name one person at my high school who was ‘out’ as an LGBT person. And my high school had about 2,400 students.

I came out as gay sometime in college, and since graduation, have seen several of my classmates come out, as well. I’m not sure if, like me, they had never even considered that they might be LGBT in high school because it never seemed like a possibility, or if they knew, but felt so suffocated and terrified by the conservative, binary, gender-conforming environment that is Orange County, that they just couldn’t come out.

Growing up, my parents were the only Democrats around. In 2008, after I came out, they put a ‘No on Prop 8’ sign in our front yard to show their support. But everyday, as soon as I drove out of our driveway, I was immediately surrounded by what felt like an endless ocean of yellow ‘Yes on 8’ signs, including in the yards of our family friends. The signs were everywhere, screaming to me that I was wrong and crazy for thinking I should ever be allowed to marry the person I loved.

In the years since that election, my parents’ friends learned that I was gay, happily attended my wedding and welcomed my wife into their homes with open arms. I honestly don’t think they would vote against gay marriage today.

But, after I finally called my mom and heard what had happened (her friend made the typical, flawed argument, “Do you want men in the bathrooms with your daughters?”), it’s clear that none of that realizing-they-had-been-on-the wrong-side-of-history-before matters in the face of today’s transgender hysteria.

I think that my mom’s friend is probably like most Americans who are scared of trans people in bathrooms: they probably used to fear gay people, too, but then met a few of them and realized their fear was completely irrational.

Everyone where I grew up knows I’m gay, but a lot of them probably don’t know I’m trans. And on the day of Harvey Milk’s birthday, I’m realizing that what he said about gay people in the 70s is still true today, especially for trans people:

So here goes, to everyone in Fullerton, Orange County: My name is Marnie Florin and I am transgender. I use gender neutral pronouns, such as ze/they/Marnie. And I’m going to use whatever fucking bathroom I want.