Tonight, I celebrated the first LGBTQ+ Pride in my hometown. Being part of this historic moment in East Alabama history was quite poignant for me. Opelika has, for me, mixed associations. It was there, as a student at Trinity Christian School, that I experienced bullying from a teacher for “not being man enough,” and after graduation when I came out, I was banned from campus with the threat of having the police called on me if I returned. It was also there, in the Lee County Courthouse, where on July 22, 2013, I legally became Darcy Jeda Corbitt and began the journey of a lifetime. It was also there that, on August 16, 2017, that a clerk at the driver’s license office misgendered me, called me “it,” and ultimately denied to give me a driver’s license consistent with my gender identity simply because my previous Alabama driver’s license said I was a man. It was also there that I decided to serve a Federal lawsuit against the State of Alabama, challenging their right to define transgender peoples’ identity, dignity and worth. And it is there, today, that I celebrated my community, remember where we’ve been, and look with hope for a brighter, safer tomorrow.
And we are standing at a great divide between what our world is now and what our world may become. At its worse, discrimination and oppression loom over our community like a malevolent spectre, challenging our very right to feel safe and to live a life in pursuit of liberty and happiness. Less severe but just as deadly, apathy, moral disengagement, and microagression threaten to undermine the progress we have made as a community and as a nation. But it is not just hatred, bigotry, and fear which stand in the path of a brighter, safer, and more affirming future. We as a larger community of LGBTQ+ people, subconsciously or purposefully, weaken our own progression toward becoming a better version of ourselves. Our myopic fixation on white, gay masculine culture as our norm, our mindset of bi now gay later, and the complete erasure of anything but obvious tokenism of lesbian, transgender, queer, asexual, pansexual, intersex, 2Spirit, polyamorous plus identities reinforces the rampant racism, sexism, biphobia, and transphobia that tears our community apart and leaves many waiting anxiously in the fringes of our community begging to be heard.
We have forgotten, or perhaps don’t care, that Pride has its roots in a group of black trans women having enough of police brutality at the Stonewall Inn and resisting the evil of bigotry and violence. We certainly have done little as a community to elevate the voices of trans women of color, and queer people of color, despite the fact that the majority of the victims of anti-LGBTQ+ violence are disproportionately black, trans, and women. Nor have we made much of an effort to diversify the organizations serving the LGBTQ+ community. Even we are not immune. The Foundation does not have a single person of color on its staff or on its board, a fact which distresses me considerable because I am painfully aware of how stereotypes remain intact when we fail to have representation of all people. Our lack of diversity has not been from a lack of trying to recruit. The reality is, that when a community has a history of ignoring or tokenizing voices of color, those voices tend, and rightly so, to not trust a white woman asking them to join her organization. We can, and must, do better. Because when we fail to include the voices of all ethnicities, we are complicit in the rampant systemic racism of our culture, our community, and our programming.
While it is easy and frankly predictable to celebrate those who have made our community visible in the national arena, we must not do so at the expense of failing to give a voice and a platform to the gritty, ugly, and painful realities faced by the most marginalized amongst us: Bisexual individuals who feel ostracized by the LGBTQ+ community when they are in a relationship with someone of the same sex or gender, polyamorous people who fight against the slut-shaming that comes with being in love with more than one person, asexual people on the receiving end of intrusive questions, trans people whose very right to exist is at the forefront of our national discourse, and 2Spirit, intersex people, and the plethora of other identities which never get mentioned at all and thus live in a state of identity homelessness. Nor should we forget to honor and celebrate the unsung everyday heroes in our own communities who sacrifice their time, money, and wellbeing to make our local community safer, more affirming. We, as a community, have not progressed to where we are by being popular, entertaining, or by trending on social media. Nor will we successfully create a healthy, vibrant community that challenges the world’s stereotypes of us by living within the narrow confines of our own perspectives and focusing only on the aspects of our community that entertain us rather than combining that celebration with a sober reflection on our history and educating our neighbors on the whole of LGBTQ+ identity. We have advanced, and will continue to advance, by ordinary acts of every-day courage, by not pushing what is palatable but by boldly confronting the evil which threatens to destroy our very identities and existence.
As we move forward on our journey together, I challenge you all to listen to and elevate those voices which are most ignored in our society and in our community at-large. I challenge you (especially our allies) to dig deep into your pockets, until it hurts, and fund local, small LGBTQ+ organizations which work tirelessly, often thanklessly, and on the verge of bankruptcy to improve the lives of our communities. I challenge you to enjoy our community’s rich history of pushing boundaries, exploring identity, and creating community through drag performance and to find other mediums for community building and celebrating and educating ourselves and others on the rich and ever-changing tapestry that is our community.
Most importantly, I challenge you to resist that evil, both external and in our midst, which seeks to destroy us. It has come for us in our bedrooms, and we have resisted. It is coming for us in our bathrooms, and we shall resist. It is coming for us in our driver’s license offices and halls of government and we shall resist. It is coming for us in our schools, on our college campuses, in our clubs, and in our churches, and we shall resist. And, if it comes to our front door and drags out of our homes, we shall resist. Because we shall never give up, never surrender our sacred right to define our own dignity and worth.
Darcy J. Corbitt-Hall She/Her/Hers
President and CEO
Last month was an important one for me. March 21, marked eight years since I was publicly outed at the conservative Christian university where I was a first year undergraduate. This heart-breaking experience changed my life forever. Yet, as I reflected on the near decade I have spent living my truth I know I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I haven’t made this journey alone. I have been fortunate to be joined in this journey by some great friends.
On my anniversary I had lunch with a dear friend who was instrumental in my journey toward acceptance. It was she who first posed the question, “If you could be whoever you wanted to be, no consequences or pain, who would you be?” The answer was simple: Darcy. As we talked through the last eight years, I realized that every step of my transition has been an act of love.
Because love is the only thing I’ve ever wanted.
I started the process of accepting myself, and was ultimately outed, because I fell in love with a guy friend at university. It was through his eyes that I was finally able to see myself and to accept that I was worthy of happiness. In the aftermath of losing everything, including him, it was love that kept me moving forward and kept me alive. Love for who I am and who I could become.
And it is love that motivates the work I do as an advocate for the transgender community.
Everything we do at the Foundation is motivated by the simple philosophy that everyone should be treated with dignity, everyone deserves justice, and anything is possible with courage. And our volunteer staff give their time, energy, and talents to the community because they believe this simple, yet profound, philosophy. And we do what we do because we love the people we are helping to become better versions of who’ve they always been.
Thank you for loving with us.
Darcy J. Corbitt-Hall She/Her/Hers
President and CEO
I have lived the majority of my life living an identity that was assigned to me by society and enforced by social violence and fear. As a result, the majority of my life has been dominated by intense feelings of unworthiness, guilt, shame, and the unshakable sense that I was unlovable. All of this changed in 2011, in Montgomery, AL, when I took the first step toward becoming the person I have always known myself to be. For the last seven years, I have taken every day as a gracious second-chance at having a life that was my own and an identity that was mine to explore, to critique, and to define. These last seven years have been the best of my entire life, and every day I grow to love myself more than I ever thought was possible, to feel a worth beyond measure.
On August 16, 2017, my life changed in a way I would never have expected. In a period of half-an-hour I was subjected to the most blatant cruelty another human being had ever inflicted on me. It happened while I was at the Lee County Driver’s License office in Opelika attempting to get a driver’s license. When I arrived in the office, I was treated with the utmost respect and courtesy. I had just moved back to Alabama to complete my doctorate in human development and family studies, and the clerk was so friendly I told her about how I had grown up in Beauregard, had moved to North Dakota for school, and had returned, by a strange coincidence, when my doctoral advisor had been offered at Faculty position at Auburn University. Her friendliness died down when she pulled up my previous Alabama driver’s license record. On that record, my gender is listed as male. That is because I was assigned male at birth, though I have always strongly identified as a woman. Part of the last seven years of my journey has been to reclaim my identity as a woman and to live a life that is both open and affirming of my gender identity. While I have never made my every-day reality as a transgender woman a secret, it is part of me that is intensely intimate, and I choose to whom I reveal that information, as well as how much I choose to share.
This clerk chose to publicly humiliate me by loudly discussing my gender identity, the most intimate part of my life, in a room full of strangers. She insulted me by saying she “never would have known I was transgender until she saw my driver’s license.” She disrespected me by referring to me as “he” and “him.” She dehumanized me when she started calling me “it.” Even her apparent moment of self-awareness when she said to me: “I should be saying ‘she,’ right?” was more a microagressive jab than it was true awareness of how abjectly cruel she was being. In that moment, and in many moments since, I have felt twinges of that old wound of unworthiness, of ugliness, of never being good enough to love. In the end, I was informed that, in spite of having successfully completed the requirements of changing my gender on my United States Passport, Social Security Card, and North Dakota Driver’s License, that I was not eligible to change my gender marker on my Alabama Driver’s License unless I had or could prove I had “the surgery.”
I have not spent the last seven years of my life undoing 21 years other people defining my identity to just sit back and allow the State of Alabama to dictate to me who I am and what I have to do to prove it to them. I have not endured ridicule from friends, family, and complete strangers and death threats to simply ignore a civil servant whose wages my taxes pay belittling me and mocking me to my face and in front of my neighbors. It is in times like these that I have had to consider what the next steps of my journey will be. And today, on February 6, 2018, in Montgomery, AL, I am taking the next big step of my journey. As a Christian, and as an Episcopalian, I have pledged to “strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity and worth of every human being.” Policy 63 is unjust, has brought me no peace, and does not treat my identity with dignity. Nor does it make me feel like I am worthy. And I am not alone in feeling this way. Because this policy goes against my personal ethical and Christian beliefs I must take a stand against it. I am taking what will most likely be a very unpopular stand in spite of the great personal sacrifice it will mean for me and for those who love me. I am taking this stand because it is the right thing to do. I am taking this stand not just to respect my own dignity and worth but to respect the dignity and worth of every transgender person in Alabama. Because the state of Alabama does not have the right to define our identities or our worth.
Darcy J. Corbitt-Hall She/Her/Hers
President and CEO
A Message from the Board of Trustees
In August 2017, our founder and current President and CEO, Darcy Jeda Corbitt, was denied a driver’s license that reflects her correct gender in the state where she lives and attends school. As a result, the American Civil Liberties Union has filed a Federal lawsuit in the Middle District of Alabama on behalf of Ms. Corbitt and two other plaintiffs. Corbitt v. Taylor will open the door for thousands of transgender Alabamians to live safer, more affirming lives in their communities.
While the Foundation is not legally part of this fight, we stand behind Ms. Corbitt, her legal team, and her co-plaintiffs and applaud their courage in fighting for dignity and justice for transgender people in their state.
For the time being, other than providing general updates periodically to our supporters, the Foundation will be making no further comment on this lawsuit, either to the press or members of the public. All inquiries should be directed to the ACLU Media Team at firstname.lastname@example.org.
All donations received by the Foundation will be used to further our educational and charitable mission as defined by section 501c3 of the U.S. Internal Revenue Code. No part of our donations will be used to benefit Ms. Corbitt, her co-plantiffs, or her legal team. Individuals wishing to support our work can make a donation at www.darcycorbitt.org/donate. Those wishing to support the legal action being taken by Ms. Corbitt, her co-plaintiffs, and the ACLU may donate to the ACLU Foundation of Alabama at www.aclualabama.org.
Mary E. Belk She/Her/Hers
Vice Chairwoman, Board of Trustees
The last year was a big one for me and my family. In January, we launched this Foundation with the hope that we would make a difference in the lives of just a few people. To be honest, I greatly underestimated just how Loud and Proud our communities would be. By the summer, I was incredibly inspired by the generosity of our stakeholders and their willingness to support not only my work but the very real lives of the people we help. Not only did we exceed our fundraising expectations for 2017, we helped even more people than even the most optimistic amongst us even imagined.
And together, we have made an incredible difference in the lives of hundreds of people.
Throughout the year, I have met and talked with hundreds of transgender individuals and their loved ones, both in-person and online, and I have been moved by both their stories and the ways in which this Foundation has made a positive impact in their lives. More than once, transgender adults have contacted me to thank me for the support we provide online. A common thing they say to me is, “I wish this had been around when I was coming out.” I have been especially moved by the parents who have reached out to thank us for helping them accept and support their transgender children.
Because of our partnership, individual people and whole families are stronger and healthier than ever before.
The reality is, our programs exist because they didn’t exist when I was coming out. My work started as one person seeing a need and filling a need. Today, we have grown to over a dozen people around the United States working to make their community safer, healthier, and more affirming for transgender people. We are a network of nearly one hundred donors who want to see transgender people in their communities thrive and live the best version of their life possible. And they are doing it loudly and proudly during the most dangerous time to be transgender. Even with the toxicity of white supremacy, sexism, transphobia, homophobia, and fear reigning in our communities, I remain resolved to stand up and speak out for those marginalized in our communities.
And I invite you to continue our partnership.
In 2018, our theme of “Never Alone” speaks to our vision of a world where transgender people, and their loved ones, are connected to the help and support they need more than ever before. We will be increasing our reach throughout the United States through strategic marketing and communications on social media. We will increase the quantity and quality of our online resources. And we will explore new ways to reach and support our stakeholders in an ever-changing social world.
Are you with me?
Darcy J. Corbitt-Hall She/Her/Hers
President and CEO
In December 2015, I gave what would be the first of many talks across the state of North Dakota. Even though this was a continuation of a series of talks I'd given in Alabama and Georgia, this was, though I didn't know it at the time, the start of this foundation. This one talk led to a series of invitations which took me all across the state of North Dakota and Minnesota. On these journeys, I had the chance to meet with transgender people in some of our region's most rural places. The common theme of their stories was a sense of isolation and separation from the support available to transgender people in larger communities.
To fill the need many of these people had, namely a lack of support, I worked with many of my friends and colleagues to create MyTransitionPartner.com from the very basic list of resources I had available on my personal website. Today, this website helps an average of 50 people every day.
In January, we begin our third year of helping transgender people become a better version of who they have always been. Our theme for 2018, is Never Alone, and our annual goals will focus on increasing the level of support we offer online to transgender people who live in rural communities. While we will be unveiling these goals at our annual meeting in January, I can say that part of this year's plan is to increase the number of articles we have on MyTransitionPartner.com, improve usability and access, and add new features to help connect transgender individuals and their loved ones to real-time support.
While spending all of this time and money on a website may seem like a slight waste of resources, I was reminded today of just how important having support, in the many forms it takes, is to the wellbeing of a transgender person. As a transgender woman, I "pass" pretty well. In fact, if I don't say anything about my gender identity, most people don't realize that I am transgender. Today, while working in a rural community for my "day job" (i.e., not for the Foundation), I was publicly humiliated by a stakeholder in the place where I was working. This person essentially derailed my presentation to ask if I was a man or a woman.
This doesn't happen to me very often, but when it does it really hurts me. Because of where I was and what I was doing I could not defend myself as I typically would. In that moment I felt isolated, ugly, stupid, and worthless. The old demon of self-loathing started to creep in. Here I was in rural Alabama, at work, experiencing what many transgender people in rural places experience on a regular basis. To their credit, my colleague, who was co-leading, stepped in and handled the situation perfectly. It was such a blessing to know that people I respect and trust have my back, though that didn't stop me from feeling really dysphoric and lousy all the way back to Auburn.
Many transgender people in rural communities do not have this level of support, and many do not have access to mentors or counselors who can help them learn more about who they are, the rights they have, and the services available to them. In place of a brick and mortal community center, MyTransitionPartner.com allows people without support to find the answers and resources they need. And unlike a brick and moral center, we are always open.
Thank you for being our partner in Never Alone,
Darcy J. Corbitt-Hall She/Her/Hers
President and CEO
When we think about our legacy, we often think about the way people will remember us. For many, a legacy is a way of being remembered forever. However, from my perspective, our legacy isn’t about how we are remembered, it is about how our work continues on without us. This Saturday, I was in Mayville, ND, for the Great Plains Affirming Campus Conference. GPACC is an annual meeting of LGBTQ+ students, allies, and faculty which works to stimulate a respectful and affirming dialog about LGBTQ+ issues on college campuses in the Great Plains region. For most of the attendees of Saturday’s conference, my role in creating and sustaining GPACC was largely unknown. But the work I had done was still alive and working blessings in the lives of all who benefitted from it. For me, that was enough. To know that the things I had done were thriving without me.
In 2014, after my first big media appearance, I received a letter from an anonymous person describing in vivid detail that gross sexual act that they would perform on me before smashing my head in. I remember reeling from the explicit and raw violence and the undisguised hatred my open and affirming life had incited. This was the first, but certainly wasn’t the last time my safety and my life have been threatened with violence. Indeed, I have spent a great deal of time and money working to ensure I am safe. As a transgender woman, and as a doctoral student, doing the work that I do for the transgender community involves a great deal of personal sacrifice. Many people, myself included, often wonder why I make the time and the financial, physical, and emotional sacrifices I make every month to keep the work going.
The last couple of weeks I have been reminded why. Two weeks ago, a young Trans person I mentored died by suicide, and this past Sunday, another Trans person who was a close friend of one of our trustees died by suicide. This year, the deadliest year to be transgender in the last decade, is full of nearly weekly reminders of how vulnerable transgender people are. For these people, the ability to courageously fight for dignity and justice are no longer an option. They are why I make this sacrifice. Even in light of the communications I receive which remind me that my ability to courageously fight for dignity and justice walks a thin line, I know that I am strong enough, and resilient enough, to live my life in spite of the fear and the hatred.
Among the hate-filled emails and letters I receive are the hidden gems. They are from people who were able to embrace their identity because of the help we provide on MyTransitionPartner.com. They are from parents weeping with gratitude because we helped them understand and embrace their child. They are from people in the community who are desperate to make the world a better, safer place for transgender people and were empowered to do so by our free, online education. Three weeks ago, one such email from a transgender person told me that because of a talk I gave at some point in the past, they found the courage to come out to their family. Today, they are living an open and affirming life because I told them that they deserved to be themselves, and that they were worthy to be loved by themselves, and by other people, for who they have always been.
The truth is, in order to have a legacy that changes the world, we must make great personal sacrifices. Whether they be a sacrifice of personal safety, financial resources, our time, or our creative energy. Having a life-changing legacy involves us doing something to improve the quality of life of the people around us. It involves us having a vision, or following the vision of another, that sees the world the way it is and the way it can be. It involves us understanding that we may never be remembered for our work, but knowing that because we did it, our work will continue to change lives long after we cease to do it.
For the last two weeks or so, we have been asking you to change the world. The Foundation is doing great work which is benefiting a large number of transgender people and their loved ones and allies every day. And doing that work takes a great deal of personal sacrifice by the network of volunteers across the United States who work every single day to keep MyTransitionPartner, the DJC Fund, and Pathways Magazine running smoothly.
To quote our Chief Volunteer Officer, “No one at DJCF gets a paycheck. All of our money goes to helping transgender people.” Our amazing volunteers, team members, and trustees volunteer an average of 12 hours per week per person toward the work that we do. They do so because they believe in the power of our legacy of changing the world.
If we are to keep doing the things we are doing, then we need your help. Your gift of time helps to reduce the number of hours each person has to give each week to keep our programs running. Your financial gift allows us to continue to provide grants, keep our websites online, and travel to communities like yours to provide on-site support. I’ll be honest, fundraising has been difficult over the past few months, and we have almost exhausted our budget for 2017. The low number of pledges we’ve received for 2018, thus far, have our executive board concerned about our ability to fund all of our programs next year.
You have the ability to be part of our legacy of changing the world. I am challenging you, as I do every time I talk to you, to think about the way you can help up help the transgender, gender nonconforming, gender nonbinary, and gender queer individuals in your community. Whether it is through a gift of time, your talents, or financial resources, your gift will go directly toward helping improve the health and global wellbeing of transgender people.
We need your help. Will helping us be part of your legacy?
Today is National Coming Out Day, a time for LGBTQ+ people to come out, celebrate coming out, and honor those who have paved the way for them to come out. I was reminded today as I walked across campus toward my office of my own process of coming out. I remember being terrified of the prospects surrounding living a life that was open and affirming of who I was. Ultimately, I lost the right of coming out when a family friend outed me to my parents.
The aftermath was as awful as I had imagined and more. Nevertheless, I persisted.
The pain of losing my right to choose when and how I began my open and affirming life could have destroyed me. Instead, I used it to fuel my fight for equality and for the health and wellbeing of transgender, gender queer, gender nonconforming, and nonbinary individuals. The work that I do is the result of people seeking me out, because of my visibility as a trans woman in Alabama, and asking for advice. The emails and letters I answered would serve the basis for MyTransitionPartner.com.
If anyone ever tells you that we don’t need a Coming Out Day, then remind them of the importance of visibility.
I came out because I saw other transgender people around me living their truth, and I wanted the same joy and privilege of doing just that. In turn, I know of at least three people I have inspired to live their truth, and I have had the distinct honor of providing financial assistance, both from my own pocket and from this Foundation, that has enabled dozens of transgender people to start their journey toward a better version of themselves.
Visibility is a form of resistance, a way of standing up against those who want us to not exist.
Today, on National Coming Out Day, I have many different hopes for you:
Have a wonderful day of visibility, reflection, and support!
Lately, I’ve been thinking a great deal about stories. Partly because I am writing my first book. Partly because every day I hear stories about people who are very courageously standing up for what is right. Stories of people like Heather Heyer, the young woman brutally murdered for standing up against white supremacy in the United States. Stories of people like Rev. Robert Lee, the descendant of Robert E. Lee who spoke out against the hero worship of his problematic ancestor and lost his pulpit as a result. Stories of people like Munroe Bergdorf, the first transgender model to serve as the face of a major cosmetic brand, who was fired after calling out racism on a live television program.
Stories of everyday people living their lives in pursuit of equality and resistance to evil.
For these people, and the hundreds of thousands like them, standing up to resist hatred isn’t a planned act designed to bolster their reputation. Rather, their actions reflect a deep moral conviction that people should be allowed to live their lives without fear of oppression. And as a result, they lost something. For Rob and Munroe, it was a job they worked hard for while Heather paid the ultimate price.
My story, while not as heroic, is not that dissimilar.
I was born an ordinary person to an ordinary Southern family. For eighteen years, I denied my identity. An identity that was clouded by prejudice, ignorance, and fear. Then, everything changed. I started the difficult process of living an open and affirming life. By the age of 21, I was living my true self. As a result, I lost everything. I lost my job. I lost my home. I lost many of my friends. I lost my family, for a time.
What I didn’t lose was my dignity, my sense of justice, and the courage which pushed me forward.
At the time, I didn’t know that the pain and intense loss I was experiencing would serve as the fertile ground for something beautiful and far-reaching. For twenty years of my life, I didn’t have a word to describe who I was or how I felt. When I finally had a word, transgender, I still didn’t have a good understanding of what that meant. Finding information was hard and sources were often unreliable. From this need, I started work on what would become MyTransitionPartner.com, as I started recording all of the things I learned and all of the resources I had found. Later, difficulties in raising the money necessary to change my name, start hormone therapy, and the still far-off dream of surgery motivated me to do something to end funding difficulties for other transgender people.
Some people would describe me as extraordinary, but I still see myself as an ordinary lady from Alabama living her life and helping others in the best way she can.
The amazing thing about stories is that they have the power to transform not only ourselves but other people. If it weren’t for a transgender person sharing their story with me, I might not be where I am today. If it weren’t for me telling my story, MyTransitionPartner.com might not be helping an average of 500 people a day, and the DJC Fund might not be poised to assist ten people in North Dakota change their name by July 2018.
The other amazing thing about stories is the power they have to compound and create something even bigger than the storyteller could ever imagine.
Since 2013, I have had the distinct privilege of listening to other transgender, queer, gender nonconforming, and nonbinary individuals tell me their stories. Many of those stories have made me very sad, very angry about what it means to be a transgender person living in the United States in 2017. Some of them have been frankly heartbreaking. All of them have been life-changing for me and for every single person I’ve helped. That is because from these stories I have found strength and purpose and new directions for my work to take.
Over the next month and a half, I hope that we can start hearing your story.
My request is simple: Would you share your story with us? We have set up a portal where you can tell us who you are, how you got to where you are, what you want the world to look like for transgender people, and how the Foundation can help make that vision a reality. We want to hear from our TQ+ friends, we want to hear from our cisgender LGB and straight allies, and we want to hear from the people who love transgender, queer, gender nonconforming, and nonbinary individuals (family, best friends, partners).
In telling your story, you will change the world.
Darcy Corbitt-Hall She/Her/Hers
President and CEO
Board Meeting Delayed: Due to Hurricane Irma, our Executive Office was unable to prepare for the Board meeting scheduled for September 16. We are in the process of rescheduling our meeting for later in the month.
ND Dignity Grant Applications Delayed: We are still working on getting procedures in place to receive and process grant applications. Applications will be open October 1.
Seeking Volunteers: We are seeking volunteers in the Western United States, New England, and the Southwestern United States to develop state guides in these regions. Visit DarcyCorbitt.org/volunteer to apply as a content editor.
Call for Submissions: Pathways is seeking submissions for the fall issue. The theme is Reclaiming Identity, and essays, poems, short-stories, or artwork should speak to that theme. Visit PathwaysMag.blog/submit-content for more information.
FY 2018 Financial Pledging: Information will be sent out by October 1, regarding making a financial pledge toward our 2018 budget.
In the last seven years, I have found that the key to a healthy, affirming life is rejecting the plan and opt instead to being open to catch what life throws at you and run with it until you find a new aspect of your identity. Making a major life transition is never easy. My first big transition occurred in 2011, when I was outed as a gay man on the campus of a very conservative Christian university in Alabama. Later, in 2013, I began the process of living an open and affirming life as a transgender woman while still living in Alabama. Two years later, I transitioned to my new life in North Dakota. And now, two years after that transition, I am making the move back to Auburn, Alabama to continue the work I started there and finish my PhD in Human Development and Family Studies. This process of refining my personal narrative and selecting the best pathway to support my journey has been both incredibly difficult and incredibly rewarding.
In fact, in the last seven years I have redefined my sexuality, gender identity, career goals, life aspirations, and even personal philosophy.
Some may see this as me being wishy-washy. The reality is, that this cycle of change is a normal part of development in emerging adulthood. To explore who we are and what we want is a normal and healthy component of being a young person. And in my experience, both personally and as an advocate, developmental scientist, and as a trained therapist, any person who feels that they have a good handle on who they are and what they want is on the cusp of finding out they have no idea who they are or what they want. Because it is in our nature as complex human beings to be in a constant state of flux, and that is perfectly fine. Without the ability to change, we would not evolve as a species or as a society.
The best part of this cycle of change is that even in our plasticity there is still constancy.
With all of the life changes I have undergone in the last decade, I am fundamentally the same person. I may identify as a woman, understand my sexuality as much broader and more nonbinary than I first surmised, work for social justice, and be making the conscious and willing decision to move back to the South, but my core being has not changed. I am still a compassionate, driven person who cares deeply about the psychosocial wellbeing of the most vulnerable members of our society. I am a devout Christian and humanist who seeks to improve humanity through unconditional goodwill and an honest and supportive openness to the diversity of the divine. I am a merciful and longsuffering daughter, granddaughter, sister, niece, cousin, and friend who patiently bears with her family and long-time friends’ often bumbling attempts at understanding who she is. I am a hopeful woman waiting to find the right person to love and be loved by and start a family with. In spite of changing terms, attractions, life goals, and location, who I am at my core has not, and will most likely never, change.
This week I am making the 1,500 mile trek from Fargo, ND, to Auburn, AL, alone.
This arduous adventure is a perfect metaphor for the last seven years of my life. I am setting out on a difficult journey alone. While I want to reach the destination, getting there is something I’ve dreaded for most of 2017. It is difficult driving this far by yourself, and it is terrifying as well. Similarly, when I began the journey toward an open and affirming life, I had very little real partnership in the endeavor. Don’t get me wrong, I had many supportive and helpful friends, just as I have many helpful and supportive friends emotionally supporting me on this trip from a distance. But the real work, managing the exhaustion, stress, uncertainty, and risk of transition was something I had to do largely by myself. And I am definitely stronger for it. Even so, had I not been as strong as I was and as courageous as I was I probably would not have made it this far.
I started MyTransitionPartner.com to address the lack of support many transgender folk in rural states like Alabama and North Dakota experience which hampers their identity development.
Many people have asked me why I am doing this project. “There are established charities that could be doing this,” they say. And they are right: other people could be doing this. But they weren’t. I will be honest, there are days this endeavor is discouraging, and I feel like I am wasting my time. A large part of my job as the leader of this organization is public relations and fundraising. In the last nine months, I have spoken to a lot of people who are really supportive of what we are trying to accomplish. I have also met a lot of supportive people who are unwilling to provide us with the financial support we need to make this endeavor viable. And when you, like the eleven people on our team and myself, work your paying job, go to school, and come home and spend your post homework free time working to develop resources for MyTransitionPartner.com, it is really distressing and discouraging to see that we could only raise $55 during our July challenge for our hormone replacement therapy grants.
If my journey over the last seven years has taught me anything, it is that discouragement and setbacks are the motivation we need to continue the struggle forward.
In the aftermath of the President’s transgender ban announcement, my team and I were reminded of the importance of the work we do. In 24-hours, our web traffic increased 400%. Our Facebook following increased from 150 to 350. We provided direct support to people on social media and email. Our ally badges on Facebook were applied to over 15,000 profile pictures. In a very small and seemingly insignificant way we are making a difference in people’s lives. We are helping over 1,000 people daily to make that difficult journey of figuring out who they are or supporting their transgender loved one. We are working to ensure people in flux are not alone. And that is with a bare-bones budget in our spare time. Just think of what we could accomplish with more.
Remember in your state of flux, as you become a better version of you, my team and I are here for you.
Darcy Corbitt-Hall She/Her/Hers
President and CEO
Regional Offices Established. The Executive Board has established regional offices in Chicago, IL (Midwestern states), Auburn, AL (Southeastern states), and Lubbock, TX (Southwestern states as US Caribbean Territories), to manage community projects, development, and volunteer recruitment. Key operational divisions will also be housed in regional offices. We are seeking volunteers to head regional operations in the Western United States and Northeastern United States.
Executive Office Relocation. Our Executive Office is relocating to Auburn, Alabama. Operations, volunteer management, and finances will be managed from this location. It will also serve as the regional office for the Southeastern Region. Our Home Office will remain in Fargo, ND, with development, grantmaking, and communications being managed from this office.
Program and Community Division Relocation. The Programs and Community Division is now housed with our Midwestern Regional office in Chicago.
State Resource Guides. Our Summer Internship Program completed state resource guides for the Midwestern Region. Our program and community committee is working to review this content, and it will be available soon. We are seeking volunteers in the Western United States, New England, and the Southwestern United States to develop these guides in these regions.
ND Dignity Grant Applications will be available mid-August. Due to the move of our executive offices, the application period was delayed.
Next Board Meeting: September, 16, 2-2:30pm.
I have to admit that when it comes to technology I am pretty basic. The irony is that I run a cloud-based nonprofit organization which relies completely on technology to do its work. Tonight, though, I had a wonderful experience on Twitter. Now, full disclosure, I am not very good at using Twitter. In fact, our Twitter account (@transhelper) only has 23 followers. We follow a young trans man, and he tweets enough that when I do our daily tweet I see his updates. This morning, he disclosed that he was about to come out. I sent him a quick word of encouragement and a link to our website. I noticed later in the afternoon that he was quickly spiraling, and things were not going well.
This typically is the point in a trans person's transition which either makes or breaks them. I watch this unfold over an hour with things getting worse and worse. I sent a second tweet telling him to reach out if he needed us and sent more links pertinent to his situation. Then, I waited with baited breath, terrified that he would never tweet again.
He just tweeted us saying that we literally saved the day with our links.
This story is exactly what I want MyTransitionPartner to be. A resource which literally saves lives by reducing the negative reactions of loved ones and the community when people come out as transgender, queer, nonbinary, or gender nonconforming. A resource that gives people hope in the early days of transition. A resource that helps people find the courage to reclaim their narrative and dignity. And in the eight months since we've been operating we've seen our website grow into just such a resource.
In forty days or so we will disburse five name-change grants. These $150 grants will change the lives of five transgender people in North Dakota by giving them the ability to reclaim their dignity. These grants are only possible because of your generosity. Because of the success of our week-long fundraiser in June (thanks for putting up with the incessant emails, by the way) we have funded four of the five grants we will disburse in January. Already in July we have met all of the goals set by the Board of Trustees at our Annual Meeting in January of this year.
Even though we've met our grantmaking goals, we are not resting on our laurels. We plan to raise enough funds in August and September to fund two hormone therapy grants ($500 each) and one gender affirming surgery grant ($1000). We will disburse these grants in January. If you haven't made a donation during this fiscal year, I encourage you to consider earmarking some of your funds to help us provide these grants. As we received Federal recognition this summer, your donation may be tax deductible!
I would be remiss if I didn't let you know about the exciting opportunity we are offering in July. For a $30 minimum donation (or $10 for trans/queer/nonbinary/nonconforming folk) you can receive 5 issues of our quarterly magazine, Pathways! Subscribe to Pathways and get both a pretty awesome magazine and help fund transgender lives.
As always, my team and I are thankful for your support and trust in the services we provide. If you need anything please know that we are here for you!
Who We Are
Darcy Jeda Corbitt Foundation is a 501(c)(3) public charity promoting the health and global wellbeing of transgender, queer, and gender nonconforming individuals. All donations are tax-deductible to the fullest extent allowed by US Federal Tax Code.
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© 2016-2019 Darcy Jeda Corbitt Foundation, Inc.
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“Darcy Jeda Corbitt,” and the “DJC” logo are trademarks of Darcy J. Corbitt-Hall, used under license.
“MyTransitionPartner,” “Here for a better version of you,”, and the trans flag heart logos are trademarks of Darcy Jeda Corbitt Foundation, Inc.
“MyTransitionPartner,” “Here for a better version of you,”, and the trans flag heart logos are trademarks of Darcy Jeda Corbitt Foundation, Inc.