This essay is far from perfect, but I am sharing it anyway. I need to do more. We need to do more.

And, it starts with conversations.

A transvestite¹—that’s the only label I understood then. It was the late 1980’s, and we didn’t have the knowledge or language to know better. I remember thinking, “He probably gets turned on by dressing in women’s clothes. No big deal.” After all, I worked in a store that catered to people’s pleasures.

I was 19 when I worked as a night clerk at an adult bookstore², five nights a week, from 5 p.m. until midnight. If you’ve been inside one, you know it’s exactly what it sounds like. A retail store selling sexually explicit products for adults. Books, magazines, videos, toys, lingerie, and other adult-oriented products for customers 18 and older.

Today, adult stores are more mainstream and focus on empowerment, wellness, and sexual exploration. Back then, they were on the fringes of society. Many were windowless, with extra parking around the back for customers who preferred not to be seen entering. The purity culture of the era held that any emphasis on sexuality was shameful, adding to the stigma surrounding these businesses and the people who frequented them.

The layout of this shop—probably the same for most—was designed to offer space for customers to move at their own pace without intrusion. Because what we sold was deeply personal, there was an unspoken agreement of privacy and respect between clerk and customer.

A 2024 google street view image of Ms. Kitty’s Adult Emporium in Spokane, Washington.

The customers were more diverse than you might think. As expected, men of all ages frequented the store to watch movies, rent videos, or purchase books and magazines.

But a Friday night might also include a group of young women looking for fun items for an upcoming bridal shower or bachelorette party. They purchased things like phallic-shaped suckers and lipstick, and crotch-less panties for the bride. I’d congratulate and wave them on with a genuine smile as they giggled out the front door.

Nervous couples shopped together to discover new ways to enhance the intimacy in their marriages, whether they had been married one year or thirty. They would point and whisper to each other until one stepped forward to ask me a question, and I would pull out the display model of a toy for them to touch and examine. “This is one of our best sellers and has several settings,” I’d say, twisting the ‘on’ button as I handed it over. “I’m told it’s enjoyable for both partners.”

The bookstore offered a safe space for people to be without judgment.

To be a successful clerk, I learned about edible body products, the various attributes of different sizes and shapes of vibrating devices (including the pros and cons of silicone versus glass versus plastic), and the concept of a ‘safe word’ when discussing the large selection of leather gear in the cases. I knew which devices were best for those with sensitive skin, and I knew the basic skills and popularity of the various porn stars featured on the xxx-rated VHS videos for sale and rent.

I learned to be nonjudgmental. Regardless of what was purchased and by whom, I would wrap the items in tissue, put them in a discreet bag, and toss in a few chocolates as I thanked each person for coming in.

One of the benefits of the weeknights was they were often quiet and afforded me the luxury of diving into a good book. (Back then, it was likely a Anne Rice or Jean M. Auel novel.) Customers could enter from the front, facing a busy street, or from the back hidden parking lot, but both doors had a set of bells on them to catch my attention.  The store was empty one evening when the back door jingled.

“Good evening.” I glanced up from my book to see a tall man stepping in from the shadows. I flashed a gentle smile and noticed his lips, tinted with hot pink lipstick, and blush coloring his cheeks. He hesitated, his eyes darted to the door and back to me again. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.” I continued my smile and held his gaze to assure him he was accepted here. I noticed his hand shaking as he clutched a pink purse to his chest and slowly stepped forward, his heels wobbling slightly. “I like your shoes,” I said, remembering the struggle of learning to walk in high heels.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m just looking.” He stepped slowly along the glass display counters, and the fingers of his hand gently brushed the countertop. His pink nail polish matched perfectly with his purse and the barrette that held back the bangs of his long brown hair. As I recall, he spent about 30 minutes in the store that night, looking at various items. I don’t remember that he purchased anything, but when another customer came in, he quickly darted out the back.

More than 30 years have passed since then, and the day after the 2024 Presidential election, I remembered.

Like 74,100,834+ of us in the U.S., I was heartbroken with the results. Call me naive, but I had REAL BIG HOPE. I believed ‘love would win.’ I couldn’t fathom how we’d elect leadership that would take away more human rights in this country. I took a PTO day from work and watched Will & Harper on Netflix. I figured if I was going to cry, I might as well cry about something wholesome. (If you haven’t seen it, I recommend it.) Once the sorrow passed and I got back to routine, the worry set in—worry for our LGBTQ minorities; worry for our immigrants; worry for our children; and worry for women (especially those in the aforementioned categories.)

Then the guilt hit. I hadn’t done enough.

Labeling ourselves as allies, showing banners on our social media profiles, wearing rainbow pins on our jackets, flying BLM flags, or joining Pride marches might let our marginalized friends know we are on their sides—this is a good thing, but falls short for affecting change. Clearly, or we wouldn’t be in the position we are now where so many people are at risk of losing their human rights³. We are not changing minds by staying in our bubbles of like-minded folks.

We must start conversations to cultivate safety for everyone, and we start right where we are. We can’t fix things from the top down, but we can work on things from the bottom up. Here’s what I’ve learned from my marginalized friends: ‘Ally’ isn’t a label (noun)—it is action (verb). When each of us takes small steps toward change, we can collectively yield big results.

First, we need to tend to our personal circles and use our influence on the people around us. Talk to your kids and be open to their questions. Be willing to talk to your extended family members about how you feel. If they demonstrate bigotry, call them on it. I am not saying you should be aggressive, but your right-wing uncle needs to know how you feel. (Please note: if you are estranged from your family for your own safety and mental health, I am not suggesting that change.)

Once you move out from your immediate personal circles, start having conversations in your public circles. Talk to your co-workers. How many of you reading this worry about what public places will be safe for you? As a cisgendered⁴, white woman, I realize my privilege to feel safe going to my favorite restaurant, library, grocery store, and hair salon. Don’t we all want to feel safe when we step outside our doors to do the things we want to do?

Remembered the shy person who came into the bookstore and the mistake I’d made about their intentions? Their coming in dressed as they did had nothing to do with sex or perversion. They weren’t trying to “get their kicks.” The store had offered a rare safe space for them to be without judgment at a time when those spaces were hard to find.

Depending on where you live, safe spaces are still hard to find for many marginalized people. They fear doing the most mundane of things—going to the grocery store, grabbing a beer at the bar, writing on laptops in the coffee shop, watch a movie in a theater, or heading to the local bookstore for a new book.

Challenge yourself to ask your hair dresser at your next appointment: “Is this a safe place for my queer and trans friends?” Look around at your favorite bookstore and ask: “I am looking for books about the marginalized. Do you have a black history or LGBTQ section?” Ask your favorite waitress or bartender: “Do you think my trans friend would be safe having a drink here?”

You don’t even have to have a marginalized friend to ask the questions.

By asking, you are initiating a conversation that might never have happened otherwise. You are using your influence in your spaces to educate and change minds. If they can’t answer clearly, you might provide suggestions in ways they can make it clear they are a safe space (that might be pronouns on staff name tags, or visible flags in the window.)

If the answer is an outright “no,” if they are not willing to commit to being a safe space, maybe it is time for you to find a place that is. Your statement to the longtime hairdresser or bartender you’ve had might be the biggest change you can affect.

Isn’t being a ‘safe person’ enough?

If it was, we wouldn’t where we are right now, would we? The thing is, many of our minority friends already have people, what they need is safety. Many of us truly believe we are a safe ally. Can we truly be safe when we are not a member of any of those communities? I want to think so, but even at 53 years, I am still making mistakes.

A couple of years ago, at the beginning of June (when Pride Month is celebrated), I made what I thought was a well-meaning gesture on my public Facebook page. I posted a rainbow colored graphic that said:

“Pride Month starts tomorrow!
Parents aren’t accepting?
Fine, I’m your mom now.
I love you.
Now go clean your room.”

It got shared many times over and attracted lots of attention. We all want to call ourselves allies, right?

A friend of mine in that marginalized community had made a gentle yet corrective statement. “Please don’t say you are my mom now. That kind of statement reminds so many of us of what we’ve lost. Many of us are not accepted by our parents. It hurts. There are so many other, more tangible ways to be an ally to us.”

She had a valid point. Despite my intention, my words had the potential to rub salt in many wounds. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt someone. I wanted so badly to delete that post and erase it from my history. But, if I needed to learn, so did others and deleting it wouldn’t help anyone.

So, I altered it, but kept the original hurtful statements (edited) on it.

The original statement is now crossed out in read and covered in tape. What matters more is that “I can’t replace what you have lost. I can help in other ways.”

Here is the thing, we have to keep trying. Mistakes will be made. Being willing to be open to learning is what matters. We have many resources at our disposal to help us learn. My friend

Evey Winters

offers valuable insights on what kinds of actions an ally can take in her essay, "Gardening for Allies" some of which I have shared here. And, this guide for the holidays: “Be Their Home.”

I encourage you to explore more from her and others in marginalized communities. Step out of your bubbles, stay open to learning, listen carefully, share what you’ve learned, and don’t fear making mistakes—own them and keep growing.

We have to do more, and we have to start now.

Back in the late 1980’s, when I worked in that adult bookstore, I didn’t know what I know now. I still don't know what gender that person was or how they really wanted to live, and I didn’t have the knowledge then to ask. I hope they were able to find happiness and live as their true self.

I hope they found acceptance, love, and more safe spaces.

If you want to learn more about trans issues but don’t have a trans person in your circle (or even if you do), I recommend the “Wanna Learn More Network’s Facebook Group: You Might Wanna Learn More About Trans People

If you are trans in the USA or Canada and you need help and don’t have anyone to reach out to, please know you can call the Trans Lifeline.

More information: https://translifeline.org/hotline

“Trans Lifeline’s Hotline is a peer support phone service run by trans people for our trans and questioning peers. Call us if you need someone trans to talk to, even if you’re not in a crisis or if you’re not sure you’re trans.”

I highly encourage you to do more research from multiple unbiased sources. More than anything, I ask you to demonstrate love to those around you.

Footnotes:

1. “Transvestite” is now considered a derogatory term, but I didn’t know in the 1980’s. When I learned better, I behaved better. History of the word: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transvestism

2. An article from The Inlander about Ms. Kitty’s, an adult bookstore in Spokane, Wa.: https://www.inlander.com/culture/a-clean-well-lighted-sex-store-2134213

3. Human rights issues in the United States:
https://www.amnesty.org/en/location/americas/north-america/united-states-of-america/report-united-states-of-america/
https://www.hrw.org/world-report/2023/country-chapters/united-states
https://www.amnestyusa.org/press-releases/amnesty-international-will-defend-human-rights-during-president-elect-trumps-second-term/

4. Definition of cisgender from Dictionary.com