HOLYOKE — At Translate Gender’s third-annual Trans Day of Visibility Resource and Art Fair last spring transformed the Holyoke Senior Center with rainbow paper chains looping across the walls, their colors complimenting the array of different pride flags stationed around the room.
Kids weaved between rows of tables offering everything from binder-making tutorials to legal aid and handmade pottery. One vendor sold glass eggs filled with multicolored confetti.
“There’s a metaphor in the trans community about breaking your egg as a metaphor for coming out,” they explain to a customer. “I thought it would be cute.”
Nearby, a line formed at a table offering notary services on name change documents, while other attendees browsed the free community closet.
But there was visible edge to the afternoon in late March. Dotted among the crowd in bright orange vests were members of the Western Mass Dyke Patrol, their backs marked by a black panel with an inverted triangle. Their presence served as a reminder that while this space is designed for trans joy, that joy is increasingly under threat.
“We’re trying to tap into, like, ‘OK, this is a really scary and confusing time and [there is] a lot of uncertainty.’ So how can we empower each other to be more resilient, to take care of ourselves and our communities?” said Shai Kuper, one of the five co-directors of Translate Gender.
Founded in 2006 as a peer-run support group for trans and gender-diverse families, the organization has continuously expanded its offerings and is now a full-fledged nonprofit serving over 1,500 people in western Massachusetts.
Though the national climate is increasingly hostile, Translate Gender’s events are designed for trans people and their allies — or, to use Kuper’s terminology, “co-conspirators” — to build collective power.
“We insist in our lives and what we do that we are visible every day. And we want our community to be visible every day,” Kuper said.
That focus on visibility takes many forms. For Mariel Addis, who writes a column on LGBTQ+ issues for the Gazette, it means attaching her photo to the top of each piece she writes. As she navigates the minefield of current events, her lipsticked smile and purple-rimmed glasses greet each person who clicks on the link.
“It’s not for vanity purposes. I want people, if I bump into someone in town, to be like, ‘Are you the ones that writes?’” she said.
Whether it’s the cashier at CVS stopping to talk to Addis about her trans daughter or a coworker complimenting the piece in passing, each interaction is proof that her voice is being heard.
“It feels good to know that people get it and they do care,” Addis said. “The more and more I keep writing, I just hope that people are more and more aware of people in the trans community.”
To Addis, Northampton passing a trans and gender-diverse sanctuary city resolution signaled just how far her hometown has come in its embrace of the trans community. Growing up in the ‘60s, she didn’t know anyone who was trans or otherwise gender diverse. But upon returning to her hometown in 2013, the community had visibly grown.
During the hearings for the resolution last fall, Addis watched a 9-year-old trans girl approach the podium to express her support for the measure. Afterward, Addis went up to her.
“I can’t remember exactly what I said but ‘you’re awesome’ or something like that. And when she got up to go to the bathroom she gave me a high five,” Addis recalled.
Now, Northampton’s example serves as proof of concept for getting similar measures passed elsewhere in Massachusetts. Easthampton and Greenfield recently followed suit, joining Boston, Cambridge, North Adams, Salem and Worcester in protecting its trans residents.
But legislation alone can’t be the foundation — especially as targeted federal attacks on trans rights continue to escalate. What sustains the trans community, Kuper argued, is something deeper.
“Throughout our history as trans and non-binary people in this world, we have always had each other,” they said. “We’ve always, always come together. We danced, we celebrated, we laughed, we supported each other, and we cared for each other. And that is how we’re gonna go through this now as well.”