Meg (she/her) is a parent of a TGNB individual and one of our newest CAB members. She is a fierce ally and advocate who loves to learn, and submitted her below reflections to share with our readers. “My latest method of procrastination is pocket gaming. (Somebody take my phone!)”
Things I continually remind myself of when in spaces meant to foster inclusivity and belonging: "be an active listener," "don't take up all the air in the room," "make sure to boost others' voices before your own." (To be candid, some are much harder than others thanks to my little friend, ADHD.)
So imagine me, a cis female (who uses parentheses to share her inner monologue), writing an article and taking up space in a place dedicated to strengthening TGNB voices. It took A LOT of self-reflection, but after months of dodging requests for contributions to the zine, I realized that loving someone in the TGNB community is a worthy reason to contribute to this space.
I remembered how many times I had been in the waiting room, sitting across from other parents, partners, siblings, or friends. We were there for the same reason: for the person we love. And all of the times I've been with others, conversations often share the same thread of loving out loud*.
What's the asterisk? It's "safety.”
For many, living and loving out loud has always meant advocating, learning, and finding community with an asterisk. But ever since the escalator ride heard 'round the world (the one in 2015, not the one in 2025), that asterisk sometimes feels overwhelmingly impossible. The result, much to their delight, is fear, which leads to isolation, ultimately resulting in a lack of community.
Enter loneliness, the latest endemic. The result of addictive tech, politics, economy, oppression, COVID, all the things! Loneliness does not discriminate; it's here for all skin tones, all political (or cult) groups, all genders, all ages. It also has special talents – have you ever felt lonely, even when in a room full of people?
I'll admit, my favorite place is under any figurative rock. (Like Patrick in SpongeBob. That starfish is living my dream!) But when you're busy living under your rock, it's easy to perpetuate the belief that your feelings are unique. (And when it comes to being lonely, feeling unique is never helpful.) Our loneliness feels justified because there is nothing to prove otherwise. The thing is, the lack of proof doesn't mean we're right.
When we build a community, we begin to realize that as individuals, our concerns, fears, and passions aren't unique. Community exists because of shared concerns, fears, and passions. And in these communities, we can begin to make connections, find comfort, and, in turn, live more authentically. (Turns out our therapists are right.)
I know what you're thinking. In theory, all of this sounds good. You might even be ready to dive right in, but when the actual day comes, we know the excuses will be flowing. (Honestly, same!) I might acknowledge (for the first and possibly last time) that being part of a community alleviates isolation, quells fears, and quiets loneliness, but it doesn't mean I can get myself there.
What now? We try. We'll probably make excuses or have actual last-minute conflicts, but all we have to do is show up once. Fortunately, we already have a safe place where we've begun building a community. It may not be "Luke's Diner" (or if you prefer "Central Perk", or "Cheers", or "The Peach Pit"...), but I'd bet we can come up with our own fun name. And just like those TV hangouts, it has the perfect formula for a classic.
(Oh, hey, CAB! You've been here the whole time, haven't you?) Facilitated by the Center for Trans Care, which, these days, feels like one of the last places where we feel safe enough to let our guard down, and managed by its staff, whom we all know and love, the Community Advisory Board, or CAB, exists to help foster a stronger community. The best news is that you can take advantage of the CAB community in a way that works for you.
On a more serious note, now more than ever, we need this. Community is one of the tools we have to make it through hard times. Modern history demonstrates that, even in cases of manufactured fear, toxic communities will inevitably form. The thing is, these two types of communities are not mutually exclusive; we can't let toxicity be a reason to disband meaningful, positive, life-saving communities.
TGNB folx need a place to be seen, heard, celebrated, and loved. Parents, partners, and others who love and care need a place to come together, learn, and celebrate. Plus, we really deserve a break from the heaviness of the world. We'd love for the CAB to become the place where "everybody knows your name (and pronouns), and you're always glad you came." (Sorry, the instant the bar "Cheers" entered my head, the theme song was playing on loop.)
Remember, especially in the case of this community, existing is an act of resistance. And (to cite more social media mantras) TGNB folx have always and will always exist. As will the people who love them.
Find out more about the CAB, its offerings, and how to get involved here.
And stay tuned for some new ways to build our community by subscribing to the Cab-A-Zine.
Thank you, Meg, for sharing your experience! It is calming and reassuring to know we have such wonderful supportive parents for our trans youth, and we look forward to more CAB initiatives and having you on our team!