Out of darkness, light is born. Today is the solstice, both winter solstice and my own. It is the darkest night of the year, but starting tomorrow, the sun will shine a little longer each day. I’ve been reflecting on the power of being. The power of being oneself. The power of being myself. And I’ve realized that in the simple act of being myself, I can save lives.

I am a recently out genderqueer person, fairly new to owning this, though it is who I have always been. I know that I am me, I know that I am not female, but I also know that I am not male. Those three pieces of knowledge increase my risk of attempted suicide to 41%. Transgendered people have a suicide statistic that is 25 times the national average. (http://www.nbcnews.com/id/40279043/ns/health-health_care/t/transgender-americans-face-high-suicide-risk/#.UrZZ7pGkDhk)

It can be dangerous to be trans*. There are people who want to hurt us, who want to kill us, who want to fire us from jobs, who want to deny us housing, who want to deny us medical care, who want us arrested, who want to shame and mock us. And those are just the external threats. The inner dangers include depression, anxiety, dysphoria, and suicide.

I have known many dark days. Depression is my shadow. Sometimes it cowers beneath me, sometimes it stretches long and wide, obscuring my path. A few times, the shadow has grown dark enough that I almost snuffed out my own light trying to escape.

But I have met a number of people over the years who have been out and visible as trans* people, as queer people, but most importantly, as themselves. They have given me the hope and the inspiration to hang on. Some of these folks I am lucky to have as friends. Some have changed my life just by existing. Their visibility and courage has given me hope. And it is in gratitude to them, that I have grown into myself and am coming out as a genderqueer person.

Growing up, I never saw people like me on television, in magazines, or in books. Until I knew what to look for, I rarely saw people like me on the street. But once I started meeting other gender variant people, I felt the safety of numbers. Even two or three is much more powerful than just one. Through connecting with the internet community, I have learned there are thousands more out there who have felt the same pain and endured similar experiences. It’s powerful enough to cut through the aloneness of trans*depression and can be powerful enough to prevent suicide.

It is time that I shout it from the rooftops, “I am Charlie! I am trans*! I am genderqueer! And I am very happy with who I am!”

Today, I am publicly changing my name and my pronouns. Well, as best I can. I have an email address that uses my chosen name. I’ve created a new Twitter account and a new Medium account, easy as pie since they are non-gendered spaces. My friends can now freely call me by my name in public without fear of prematurely outing me. As for Facebook, I am stuck. Facebook limits the number of times you can change your name on your profile and I have already exceeded my limit. I could create a new account, but to do so, I must choose between two gender choices: male or female. It will have to wait for another day. I’m too excited to be myself today to have to compromise and lie about who I am by checking one or the other.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Dan Savage lately, and through his podcast pep talks, I realized something very powerful. Times are changing. People of all shades of gender, sex, and sexuality are being offered places at the table. And the fact of the matter is, people who would judge me, ought to be afraid of society judging them.

Fortunately, I don’t have a lot of people in my life who would judge. I am friends with a lot of different kinds of people, but the one thing they all have in common is that they are loving and accepting souls. They are the kinds of folks who might be learning for the first time what genderqueer means, but the fact that they are willing to learn makes a world of difference.

It is a very good time to be trans*. And a very good time to be alive.