Twelve years have passed since I first sat down with Lisa Salazar in 2013. Back then, we spoke about her remarkable journey as a Canadian transgender advocate, author, and spiritual seeker, exploring her experiences of transition, faith, and the challenges of living authentically. Since that conversation, life has unfolded in ways neither of us could have fully imagined. Lisa and I share more than just friendship, we are soul sisters. Both of us have undergone gender-affirming surgery, both of us hold strong religious beliefs, and both of us have navigated the sometimes tumultuous intersection of faith, identity, and advocacy. The passage of time has only strengthened our bond. And while the years have added their chapters to our lives, Lisa and I look as vibrant and determined as ever, our shared journeys reflected in our continued passion for living authentically and speaking our truths.
Lisa is the author of “Transparently: Behind the Scenes of a Good Life” (2011) and “Then This Happened: After Transparently” (2023). In the years since our first conversation, she has continued to evolve both personally and professionally. From advancing her studies in Theology and Pastoral Care to deepening her advocacy for transgender rights in increasingly challenging times, she has demonstrated remarkable resilience and grace. Her story reminds us that growth is ongoing, and that even after the “big moments” of life have passed, there is always room for discovery, reflection, and renewed purpose. In this follow-up conversation, we reconnect to explore how Lisa’s life and work have evolved, how her advocacy has deepened, and how she continues to find hope and purpose in a world that remains as challenging as it is beautiful.
Monika: Lisa, while I feel the years creeping up on me, you seem completely untouched by time, you look absolutely radiant. It’s such a joy to welcome you back to my blog.
Lisa: Thank you, Monika, you’re far too kind! If I look radiant, it’s probably less about time standing still and more about finally living in alignment with who I am. Transition gave me a peace that shows on the outside because it settled so much turmoil on the inside. And perhaps walking 20,000 steps a day doesn’t hurt either! What truly sustains me, though, is connection, with my work, with my loved ones, and with life itself. That’s the kind of beauty that doesn’t fade with age.
Monika: What has happened in your life since our first interview?
Lisa: When we first spoke back in 2013, I had just started my Master’s program in Theology and Pastoral Care, still figuring out what life after Transparently might look like. That journey carried me into the field of Spiritual Care as a multi-faith Spiritual Health Practitioner, where I now work in long-term care. It’s humbling, sacred work, walking alongside people wrestling with illness, disability, grief, and those unanswerable questions of meaning and faith.
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| "My advocacy has shifted." |
Monika: How has your advocacy work evolved over these years?
Lisa: My advocacy has shifted. Back in 2011, it felt like things were slowly, steadily improving for trans people. I truly believed we were on an upward trajectory, more visibility, more acceptance, and a sense that our stories were finally being heard. Today, the landscape feels starkly different. Around the world, and heartbreakingly here in Canada as well as across the U.S., we are under attack by conservative religious groups, political opportunists, and trans-exclusionary feminists.
Monika: With so much change, how do you approach your advocacy today?
Lisa: So my advocacy now is less about explaining who we are and more about defending our very right to exist. That said, I still believe education matters; the more people understand the human reality of trans lives, the harder it is to cling to stereotypes or fear. But the work feels heavier now, more urgent. Just in the past year alone, I’ve found myself writing and speaking again and again, sometimes out of frustration, often out of love, because silence feels like complicity.
Monika: Why do you think our rights have eroded so significantly? Is it that the world has shifted around us, or have we simply failed to notice the warning signs?
Lisa: It’s a painful mix of both. The world has shifted. Populism, religious fundamentalism, and culture wars have found fertile ground in fear and misinformation. Trans people have become convenient scapegoats for larger anxieties about change, identity, and power. At the same time, I think many of us, myself included, wanted to believe the progress of a decade ago was permanent. After marriage equality, after the early victories for trans rights, there was a sense of “we’ve turned the corner.” We underestimated the persistence of backlash and how quickly hard-won gains can be undermined when they are not continually defended. So yes, the warning signs were there, but perhaps we hoped too much that goodwill and reason would carry the day. What this moment teaches me is that rights are never a one-time achievement. They require vigilance, solidarity, and the courage to speak up again and again, even when it feels like we’re repeating ourselves.
Monika: When we talked 12 years ago, you did not intend to publish a sequel to Transparently.
Lisa: That’s true, and when I said that, I meant it. Transparently felt like a complete story at the time: the arc of my transition, the loss and the healing, the hard-won sense of peace that came with finally living authentically. But what I couldn’t see then was that life keeps unfolding, and so does the story.
Monika: So what inspired you to continue your story with Then This Happened?
Lisa: Then This Happened grew out of that realization. It’s not a sequel in the traditional sense so much as a continuation, an exploration of what it means to keep living and growing after the “big” moment of transition fades into the past. It looks at my advocacy, my spiritual evolution, the way my relationships with my sons have deepened, and the ongoing tension of finding hope in a world that often feels hostile.
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| August, 2021 (With the person I met in 2018). |
Monika: Did writing this continuation help you make sense of your experiences?
Lisa: In some ways, writing it was my way of making sense of this new reality. Of saying: yes, the world has changed, sometimes in frightening ways, but there is still joy, still connection, still purpose in the everyday act of being visible and being true.
Monika: When you published Transparently in 2011, your memoir recounted the first 59 years and six months of your life, culminating in that first month after your gender confirmation surgery. The book was infused with a sense of hopeful anticipation. I remember my own gender confirmation surgery vividly, I felt euphoric, finally ready to live authentically. Was it the same for you?
Lisa: Yes and no. The morning after surgery, I remember this incredible sense of quiet. It wasn’t euphoric in the fireworks-and-trumpets sense, but a deep, still peace, the kind that comes when a relentless inner conflict finally goes silent. For the first time in my life, I felt whole. That sense of wholeness has never left me.
Monika: That sense of wholeness sounds profound. Did you expect your post-surgery life to be so public?
Lisa: What I didn’t expect, though, was that my “authentic life” would turn out to be such a public one. My plan had always been to transition quietly, to live in the background, and to be known simply as Lisa, not as “Lisa the trans woman.” But then Interesting Vancouver happened, and a simple invitation to share my story with a room full of strangers cracked open a door I didn’t even know was there. Not long after, I found myself speaking out against Uganda’s “Kill the Gays” bill, then lobbying for the inclusion of gender identity and expression in the BC Human Rights Code. Later came the fight to support the SOGI 123 curriculum in BC schools, which became another unexpected front line in this work. Each step pulled me further from the quiet life I’d imagined and deeper into advocacy I hadn’t planned on but couldn’t turn away from.
Monika: So would you say that surgery gave you authenticity, but life after required new kinds of courage?
Lisa: Yes, surgery gave me the peace to live authentically, but the years that followed taught me that authenticity sometimes calls you to places you never thought you’d go. Today, I’ve made peace with that. I’ve learned that telling my story, even when it’s hard or scary, helps create space for others to live their truths too.
Monika: With everything that has changed in your life and in the world, where do you still find hope today?
Lisa: Hope, for me, isn’t a grand or abstract thing anymore. It shows up in quiet, ordinary ways. I see it in the young people I meet who are unapologetically themselves in ways I never could have imagined when I was their age. I see it in allies, parents, teachers, colleagues, neighbors, who are willing to learn, to stand beside us, and to challenge the narratives that seek to erase us. And I see it in my own life, in the relationships that have deepened over time, especially with my sons and their families, who remind me daily that love is bigger than fear.
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| "Hope, for me, isn’t a grand or abstract thing anymore." |
Monika: Even with so much hostility in the world, how do you keep that hope alive?
Lisa: Even in this climate of hostility and misinformation, I hold on to the belief that our stories, our ordinary, complicated, human stories, have the power to soften hearts and shift minds. That’s what keeps me going: the hope that by showing up, by speaking, by simply living openly, we make it just a little easier for the next person to do the same. At the end of the day, that’s what I want my legacy to be, not that I fought every battle perfectly or won every argument, but that I used my voice and my presence to carve out a little more space for kindness, for dignity, and for belonging.
Monika: Lisa, what does a typical day look like for you now, both personally and professionally?
Lisa: Professionally, I step into my role as a Spiritual Health Practitioner. Each workday brings encounters with residents, families, and staff, sometimes light-hearted, sometimes heavy with grief or uncertainty. No two days are alike, but the constant is presence: showing up, listening, and walking alongside people in moments that matter. Personally, I keep life simple. My days are shaped by both rhythm and routine. I’m an early riser and usually in bed before 9:00 p.m. I try to walk for a total of three hours each day, about 20,000 steps. On weekdays, I’m out the door by 5:30 a.m. and walk until 7:30, often with an audiobook or podcast as company. I leave for the hospital by 8:30, and since I cover a fairly large campus, I log another hour of walking throughout the day. Those minutes between encounters are when I recenter myself so I can be fully present for the next person. I’m usually back home before 4:00 p.m. Weekends often include longer walks later in the morning. I also enjoy cooking, writing, strumming my guitar, and spending time with my significant other a few times a week. Simplicity has become its own kind of sanctuary.
Monika: How do you like to spend your mornings or your free time when you’re not working?
Lisa: Mornings set the tone for my entire day. My early walks are more than exercise, they are my time to reflect, listen, and process through audiobooks and podcasts. That rhythm gives me both physical grounding and intellectual nourishment before I head into work. In my free time, I gravitate toward simple pleasures: cooking meals from scratch and writing. I’m frugal by nature, at my age, I need to manage expenses carefully in case life hands me longevity. Both of my parents lived past 95, and if I follow in their footsteps, I want to remain healthy, active, and a contributing member of society for as long as I’m able. For me, leisure and responsibility go hand in hand, and both are part of sustaining a life of balance.
Monika: Has your social life changed much since your transition and your first book, and if so, how?
Lisa: Yes, it has changed, though perhaps not in the way people expect. Transition inevitably reconfigures relationships. Some friendships faded, others deepened. Over the years, my circle has become smaller but more authentic. The people who remain are those who truly see me and want to walk alongside me. Writing Transparently helped open doors into advocacy, so my social life also became more public for a time. Today, I try to keep a balance, still showing up in public spaces when needed, but also protecting the quiet intimacy of friendships that nourish me.
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| "I’ve found myself drawn more deeply into writing than I ever expected." |
Monika: Are there any local places, cafes, parks, or cultural spots that you love visiting regularly?
Lisa: I live in Vancouver, which offers an embarrassment of beauty. I love wandering the seawall, especially around False Creek, not far from where I live and where water, city, and mountains meet in one breathtaking view. I also enjoy quiet cafés where I can sit with a friend and watch the world go by. Places of natural beauty restore me, and Vancouver gives me plenty of those on my walks. My favorite “cultural spots” tend to be smaller community events or local gatherings, spaces where conversation happens naturally and where connection feels authentic.
Monika: Have you discovered new interests or passions in the last few years that surprised you?
Lisa: I’ve found myself drawn more deeply into writing than I ever expected. After Transparently, I thought I had said all I needed to say, but words kept calling me back. That’s when I began my blog, documenting my experiences and lessons as my life was slowly reconstructed. Writing has become both a discipline and a lifeline. I’ve also been surprised by how much joy I find in mentoring younger Spiritual Health Practitioners. Passing along what I’ve learned, and watching others step into this work with their own gifts, feels like a passion I didn’t anticipate but now deeply value.
Monika: How do you maintain connections with friends and family, especially with your sons and their families, in your everyday life?
Lisa: Connection takes intention, especially as life pulls us in different directions. With my sons and their families, I try to be present in ways that matter, with regular phone calls, visits when possible, and showing up for milestones both big and small. Technology helps, of course, but nothing replaces a shared meal or a hug. With friends, I cherish those who are part of my everyday life, even if we don’t see each other often. What sustains me is less about frequency and more about depth, knowing we can pick up right where we left off.
Monika: Lisa, thank you for opening your heart and letting me walk alongside you through this part of your journey.
Lisa: Thank you, Monika, for giving me this space again, to reflect, to be honest, and to share how this journey has continued to unfold. These conversations matter. They remind me that even in the hardest times, connection is where hope begins.
All photos: courtesy of Lisa Salazar.
© 2025 - Monika Kowalska
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