From the closet to the cathedral, from the clinic waiting room to the runway:

To our transgender elders who threw the first brick, who walked the lonely miles before GPS or Google, who sewed their own truth out of borrowed fabric and sheer will: we see you. Your survival is scripture. Your existence is the foundation.

So today, we claim joy as resistance. We claim rest as radical. We claim the right to be boring, to be extraordinary, to be angry, to be soft. We claim the name we chose. The clothes that feel like skin. The love that sees us fully.