- As a trans person, I knew it would be difficult to work a corporate job. I decided to freelance.
- But when I wanted to buy a house, I needed to get a salaried job, so I joined a company full time.
Up until 2021, I had been self-employed for 15 years. I pieced together editing and writing gigs as I cleaned houses. I also taught LGBTQ inclusivity training at schools, camps, and businesses.
Juggling freelance and service work is exhausting, but I was doing what I loved and was respected for it. As a transgender person, that respect was an important part of my work. Being self-employed meant I could surround myself with people who understood my gender identity.
Getting to fully be who I am, especially at work, is vital to my mental health and overall wellness.
But that freedom in self-employment came at a cost: lackluster and expensive health insurance, no paid time off, and the inability to secure a loan to buy a small house for myself and my three kids. The bank said I needed a salaried position to secure a loan, so I made the switch.
I realized I had to risk the safety of self-employment and get a salaried job instead
I know the effort it takes to be a marginalized person in heteronormative spaces — especially in the workplace. The constant misgendering is damaging, and the frequent need to educate people is tiring. I was nervous to leave self-employment behind and have to potentially work for a company that didn't understand me.
But I wanted a home for my kids, so I put my nerves aside and applied for roles at several companies. Months later, I was hired for a full-time role at one of them. They seemed to value my writing and editing; they applauded the perspectives I offered by being an openly queer and nonbinary person. My identity was part of what made me the right fit for the job.
The job-offer letter was enough to get me preapproved for a loan, and nine months later, I bought my family a house. By the end of 2022, I felt like I was finally settled and taking advantage of the corporate perks.
But the energy it took to be an openly trans person in the workplace took its toll
While my immediate team was amazing, we were eventually all impacted when the company was acquired by another, larger one. Structures changed, and the honeymoon period of feeling safe was over. My mental health began to decline.
Throughout the workday, I was bombarded by microaggressions. Sometimes I was misgendered, and other times I was asked to be a visible part of the company's DEI efforts. I often felt like I was taken advantage of for my "expertise" and identity.
Other marginalized teammates and I were always weighing when and how to advocate for ourselves. The company pushed for inclusivity practices, but whenever the company fell short, I felt the need to speak up.
I know the risks of being out in the workplace, but staying quiet to keep folks comfortable was never an option for me and never will be. I need the world to be safer for my kids and other queer folks, so I kept pushing for the inclusivity the company promised.
But whenever I pointed out shortcomings, some members of management didn't seem to appreciate it. I started to feel like a burden. The corporate world made me feel like I could only be trans in the workplace if I was quiet.
In January, I was laid off
Initially, I was scared and angry when I was told the news; I felt betrayed.
But I wasn't too surprised. During recessions, queer and other marginalized folks are often hit the hardest. Despite proof that diversity is good for business, DEI employees are often the first to be laid off when a business cuts costs.
It probably didn't help that I was also outspoken about the problems in the workplace. But I'm still proud of myself for speaking up. Eventually, I started to feel relieved that I was laid off; I didn't realize how much anxiety and fear I'd been experiencing in that job.
I'm back to freelancing now. I continue to chase the next job and paycheck while I search for a dental plan that will help cover the cost of my kid's braces. But at least I'm now able to create safe working spaces for myself, where I get to work with people who respect me — and appreciate when I speak up.