I want to stay in Kentucky but as a transgender person, I’m scared | Opinion

Born and raised in Louisville, I grew up loving my city, but scared of the rest of the state. In high school, I started to get more politically active and soon found a love for community organizing. After working on a few state-wide and local political campaigns, I knew I was meant to keep my roots and make a difference here. I traveled to all corners of the state, meeting new people and seeing the beauty of our commonwealth.

I love Kentucky, but, once again, I’m scared.

I came out as non-binary about two years ago, but I didn’t really resonate with “transgender” until I read the definition: any person who does not identify with their sex assigned at birth. That’s me.

Transitioning is hard, to say the least. I was about to start my second year of college, preparing myself for the questions and having to re-introduce myself. Fortunately, the majority of professors at my school begin the year with introductions, including names, pronouns, and some other descriptor like major or hometown. I gathered pronoun pins and cut my hair and did anything that would signify that I am not who I used to be.

My gender journey only furthered my passion for advocacy, especially within this state. When Senate Bill 150 was introduced earlier this year, I didn’t take it seriously at first. There was no way, not in my state. It only started to really set in for me later in February, and suddenly I was hit by transphobic rhetoric from every possible direction. Elected officials, religious leaders, even peers, are all telling me that I am not welcome in the only home I’ve ever known.

This legislative session was rough, for me and every trans Kentuckian. We have always been here, but now, we’re being forced out. I will begin my senior year of college in the fall, and I’m reconsidering where I’ll live after I graduate. Kentucky is my home, but I don’t know if it’s safe for me anymore.

We’ll see what happens in November. I’m hopeful, but cautious. I’ve learned to expect the unexpected and prepare for the worst. I’ve started researching sanctuary states, like Oregon, which will protect and serve trans people. I love Kentucky, and I don’t want to leave. I want to stay and keep fighting the good fight, but sometimes you have to prioritize your safety and peace.

I wrote a poem about what makes Kentucky home, for me and for many. It’s also a message, to lawmakers and politicians and media: trans Kentuckians belong here, and we deserve better.

My Old Kentucky Home, a poem.

My old Kentucky home is not the one you preach

My Kentucky is bluegrass and folk and y’all

In my Kentucky, y’all means all

My Kentucky is Jack Harlow and Tyler Childers and Charles Booker

In my Kentucky, immigrants thrive and build each other up

My Kentucky is Churchill and Ale8 and Red River Gorge

In my Kentucky, we look out for each other, because we have to

My Kentucky is unions and horses and sunsets

In my Kentucky, the weather is unpredictable but always beautiful

My Kentucky is not the one you preach

It is NOT a state of hate and bigotry

It is NOT transphobia and fear

My old Kentucky home is welcome to all, and home to me.

Ysa Leon (they/them), 20, is a rising senior at Transylvania University with majors in Writing, Rhetoric, and Communications and Social Change, and the first openly transgender Student Government Association President.

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