I recorded my first vlog last Thursday (New Zealand time.) It’d been a long time coming. A reaaaaaallllllllllllllllllly long time.
You see, I’ve been writing long-form and short-form blogs on topics ranging from fitness, to parenthood, to leadership, to feminism, to Dad Jokes for nigh on a decade now (yes, I am THAT old). So it just made sense that vlogging would be the next step for me when it comes to embracing the tickle of creativity in new forms and channels.
That said, there’s always been a little hitch in my proverbial get-along when it comes to posting a vlog. Writing has always come naturally, almost easily, to me. Words are comforting. In them I find routine, familiarity, and power. Discovering new words and marrying them together with those I’ve written a million times over to form a rhythmic sentence is a joyful experience. Blogs, Facebook posts, Tweets, and Tumblr posts are malleable, editable. And, they allow me the freedom to re-jig a sentence or a paragraph if the first version wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined. In short: even though I can am fearless behind a camera, and in facing a blank page that yearns to be filled with emotions and dreams and pain… I am shit-scared of looking down the lens of a camera and opening up.
I’ve got all of the whiz-bang gear that any self-respecting Youtuber in the making needs. A sharp DSLR camera. Lighting rig. Heavy-duty tripods all around. And an opinion on most things (with, unlike many young content creators, decades of experience to back up said opinions.) That said, it took something big, frightening, and altogether maddening to get me into the DOING the doing. The only way I was truly going to allow myself to feel vulnerable, unprotected, and open to criticism, was in speaking up for others more vulnerable than me.
That’s why I had to do it Thursday.
Thursday was the day that the President of the United States decided to strike out at a brave community of already marginalized people. He, in a series of hateful tweets, tried to crush the aspirations and professional journeys of 15,000 trans Americans serving in our military back home. I know that this was a diversionary tactic meant to distract from his other criminal behaviors. But, this time he picked on the wrong people. At the wrong time. On the wrong platform. I for one had finally had enough.
From the moment I woke up to Trump’s idiotic, bombastic tweets I actually felt a both a physical and emotional response in myself. My eyes cried angry tears. My next blushed red with anger. And, I felt completely hopefully to do anything to help anyone. Being so far from home, I couldn’t join in the marches, or help the cause on the ground with my physical presence. And, I didn’t think something as simple as words on a page would be enough to let our trans brothers and sisters across the world know that they’re not alone. That I’m here for them. That they’re burdens on no one.
And then it hit me, this was the time. I needed to give those who feel like they don’t have a one, a voice – by using mine. For the first time ever, I needed to make a stand and speak up.
Trans people are not a burden.
They are brave.
They are strong.
They are worthy.
When simply leaving the house in the morning is an act of defiance, then I could face an unquestioning camera in an empty room and add my voice to their fight. Thursday (and, for that matter, every day) was as good a day as any to reaffirm the beauty in our differences. All of us. In my vlog, I ask my fellow Americans – as well as other global allies and citizens – to stand with me in protecting our most vulnerable.
It was touch-and-go there for a moment when I thought I might break down into tears. Or spout expletives in rage. But, for those without a voice, I tried to use mine in the most respectful way I thought possible at the time.
Below is the video I made. Please watch it, and if you’d like, share it. If only one person watches it and sees that there’s help and love in the world for them – and they realize that others will stand with them and help carry the weight of their world – then I’ve done my job.
Our country was founded on the acceptance of difference. On different-ness. Creed, race, religion… all of it. We need to go back to celebrating that which both binds us and makes us unique. We need to stand for those who cannot stand for themselves.
Kindness first, always.