Saxon Smith (she/her) is a member of our Community Advisory Board (CAB) and is currently a sales associate at The Snooki Shop and will be working as a server this summer at Island Breeze in Cherry Grove. With a strong passion for the performing arts, Saxon aspires to relocate to New York City to pursue a career on Broadway as well as in television and film. Outside of work, Saxon enjoys spending time outdoors, connecting with friends, and playing video games. Saxon is also committed to personal growth and authenticity, with plans to continue important milestones in her transition in the near future.
Four years ago, I stood on the cusp of a new beginning. On June 26, 2022, I took a step that would reshape my entire world: I started hormones. After months of dreaming and three months of social transition, I was finally aligning the person I am inside with the outside. As that summer unfolded, each day on hormones felt like a wave—sometimes cresting with joy, sometimes pulling me under. I was learning what it meant to navigate the world as a woman—realizing, in real time, the subtle shifts in how I was seen, heard, and valued. It was a time of deep self-discovery, one where I began forming connections with other women who, in their strength and vulnerability, showed me I wasn’t alone.
About six months into my transition, I began laser hair removal on my face, something I hoped would help me feel more at home in my skin. But that process was far from easy. The technician I worked with didn’t just make me feel unsafe; she tried to take ownership of my journey. It sent me spiraling into a dark place. But by speaking up, by leaving that situation, and finding a provider I trusted, along with starting therapy, I began to rise again. That summer wasn’t just about hormones: it was about reclaiming my autonomy, my care, and my sense of self-worth.
As I started therapy and found a more supportive laser specialist, I felt a subtle shift. For the first time in a long time, I felt in control. That clarity helped me focus on finding work that resonated and job opportunities started opening up on Long Island. Every small step was a reminder: I was building a life that was truly mine. Transitioning on Long Island brought a unique weight. In a place so steeped in conservative values, I often felt like an outsider—surrounded by silence, or worse, by invisibility. At first, I doubted if I could thrive here. But step by step, I found small pockets of acceptance, places where I could be visible, even if just for a moment. Each day, I remind myself: my courage is real, even in a place that tries to hide me.
As I moved through different jobs on Long Island, each role was a new terrain; some were welcoming, others hostile. I faced microaggressions, outright transphobia, sexual harassment, and the constant need to prove my worth. But each time, I refused to let those moments define me. I sought out safe spaces, built friendships with people who saw me, and bit by bit, I grew stronger. Every hardship was a reminder that my presence matters, and my journey is mine to claim. Slowly, after all those struggles, something inside me began to majorly change. I started to see my reflection not as a stranger, but as someone I could love. As my body changed, I felt a growing confidence, a trust in the process that I hadn’t known before. Each day, I woke up and liked what I saw a little more—not just in the mirror, but in the person I was becoming.
Over time, I realized an uncomfortable truth about society: for many, especially for trans individuals, how we look often becomes the first—and sometimes only—thing people see. I faced that bias, endured it, and though it was hard, I refused to let it define my worth. Today, I stand as a young woman, not just surviving, but thriving, building a future, reaching out to my community, and trusting that the love I give is the love I receive. As I stand here today, I don’t just see how far I’ve come—I see the role I can play for others. I know that, because I pass, I carry a certain privilege, and I’ve made it my mission to be a motherly figure in this community. I reach out, I listen, I educate, and I offer guidance to those who are just beginning their journeys. Because every one of us deserves to be seen, loved, and guided toward the future we dream of.