For transgender activists, upholding the anti-discrimination law is personal

Laverne Cox speaks with BAGLY youth and HRC President Chad Griffin at Boston Alliance of LGBTQ Youth on October 24, 2018, in Boston. Yes on 3 is the coalition working to uphold the state's transgender nondiscrimination law on the Nov. 6 ballot. (Natasha Moustache / Getty Images)

A few days ago, Kai Strickland was washing their hands in a public restroom.

"Someone came in, they stopped, their body language changed, they got their phone out," Strickland recalled. "They turned around and left. It turned out they left to hide in a stairwell to wait until I finished washing my hands to use the bathroom."

"A lot of times when I go to use the restroom, it is incredibly stressful because I never know how people are going to react to me. All I want to do is go to the bathroom," Strickland said.

Strickland, who identifies as transgender and uses the pronoun they, explained, "I have to do this evaluation of, OK, am I safe right now? Can I get to the door? Do I need to feel compelled to make small talk with someone to try to put them at ease so I don't need to be as worried for my own personal safety?"

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For many Massachusetts residents, Question 3 on the November ballot, which could repeal the state's transgender anti-discrimination law, is more than politics; it's personal.

The 2016 law prohibits discrimination against transgender people in public places and lets transgender people use the restroom that conforms with their gender identity.

Opponents of the law say it endangers the safety and privacy of people in sex-segregated spaces.

Transgender activists campaigning to uphold the law say they have experienced discrimination in a variety of contexts. They say that although discomfort with transgender people still exists in the state, they rely on the legal protection of the law to feel comfortable living their daily lives.

Here are some of their stories.

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Kai Strickland (Shira Schoenberg / The Republican)

Strickland, 34, a lab technician at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, grew up amid rigid gender norms in the Midwest and never felt like they fit in. Strickland has only recently come out as transgender at work and has become a public advocate for upholding the anti-discrimination law.

"It has been one of the most amazing and fulfilling and happy times of my life to finally be able to say this is me, this is who I am, I'm proud to be myself," Strickland said. "And part of being able to do that is because I live in Massachusetts, I work in Massachusetts and I know that I have legal protection. I'm not going to lose my job, I am able to go clothes shopping, meet my friends for dinner and not worry about someone saying, 'Oh, get out, we're not going to allow you to enter this place.'"

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George Hastie (Shira Schoenberg / The Republican)

George Hastie, 49, of Boston, works for a state program that helps people afford HIV drugs. Although he was born female, he felt male at a young age and named himself George at 4 years old. But that was in 1973, and his parents and community could not accept that.

Hastie said he "shut that down for 40 years," and only began transitioning to being male in 2014. Hastie said he felt comfortable doing that at a time when President Barack Obama said government contractors cannot discriminate based on gender identity, and Massachusetts Gov. Deval Patrick took steps to improve access to health insurance for transgender people.

"Those things helped me as a person finally transition and affirm myself as male, which I had felt as a young child," Hastie said. "Laws matter in the larger context of having us feel a bit safer and protected and also being treated as a full human being and deserving of civil rights protection, deserving of respect, deserving of having access to public spaces like going to restaurants or going to the gym, going to bathrooms."

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Mimi Lemay (Shira Schoenberg / The Republican)

Mimi Lemay is the North Shore mother of an 8-year-old transgender son.

Her son, who asked not to be named, realized he felt male at 2-1/2 years old. At age 4, he changed his name and pronouns.

Lemay said her son was "deeply unhappy" as a girl. After the transition, "He literally came to life."

"He's a happy kid. He's a generous, happy, intelligent, active member in his little third grade community," Lemay said.

The anti-discrimination law, Lemay said, "is really an equality bill that allows people like my son to go and enjoy all the places and public spaces that Massachusetts has to offer without fear of harassment."

"If the equality law gets repealed, then that will send a message to people in the state that discrimination is legal and accepted, and that will absolutely have an effect on the way we feel when we use public spaces with our son," Lemay said. "We want to feel safe. He deserves to be safe."

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Vanessa Ford with her children, Ronnie and Ellie (Shira Schoenberg / The Republican)

Vanessa Ford's transgender daughter Ellie is 7. She likes art, video games and puns. She has been living as a girl for three and a half years.

"If this law is not upheld, our family will be unsafe in public spaces," Ford said. "What that means is if we go to the park with Ellie, if we go to the movies, if we go to a restaurant, we could be asked to leave solely on the basis of my child's identity, and there would not be a law to protect us."

So far, Ford said Ellie has been lucky with supportive friends and family.

Ford is a teacher who also led an education program for a nonprofit. The family moved from Washington, D.C., to Massachusetts last year, knowing it would be a safe state for them.

"Upholding this law is life-saving to my child," Ford said. "We just want to function like every other family here in Massachusetts."

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Ryley Copans (Shira Schoenberg / The Republican)

Ryley Copans, who is nonbinary, is 24 and in their last year of law school. Copans hopes to work in civil rights law, helping the gay and transgender community.

As a non-binary person, Copans said, "I'm put in a position that I have to make hard choices for my own safety a lot of the time."

Copans has faced discrimination. Once, while in a restaurant with a lesbian couple, the server stopped bringing them food. "They very blatantly were bringing stuff to tables next to us that ordered well after us, refilling their water and just staring at us," Copans said.

Copans said the right to public accommodations is about sitting in a restaurant or going to a theater. "This ballot question shouldn't even be a question. It's about basic human rights and people's right to exist," Copans said.

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Mason Dunn (Massachusetts Transgender Political Coalition photo)

The co-chair of the Yes on 3 campaign to uphold the law is Mason Dunn, a 33-year-old transgender man.

Dunn grew up in California and moved to Massachusetts over a decade ago.

Soon after he moved to Haverhill, Dunn said he was asked to leave a clothing store where he was trying on clothes.

If the law had been in place then, Dunn said, "It would have given me the opportunity to hold that store and any place else open to the public accountable for those actions."

Dunn said he knows transgender people who have moved to Massachusetts in the last two years because of the "increased climate of inclusivity" created by the public accommodations law.

He said the fight over the law raised the visibility of the transgender community and also raised awareness of transgender people as "valued members of this community."

Dunn called the ballot question "a real opportunity for Massachusetts to send a message that we are a state that respects the rights and dignity of all people, including the transgender community."

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