Sara R Phillips has always lived her truth boldly, gracefully navigating the delicate spaces between personal identity and collective activism. From the very beginning, she questioned the boundaries placed around her, at five, when boys and girls were being split into separate classrooms, she felt the first stirrings of a self that refused to be boxed in. By seventeen, she had begun tentatively explaining her feelings to her father, who, in the context of the time, responded that it was just a “phase.” For Sara, that response, while imperfect, was a quiet permission to keep going, to keep seeking herself. She grew up, fell deeply in love, married, and raised three children, all while the urge to live fully in her true gender identity blossomed quietly, persistently, like a hidden garden demanding sunlight. Coming out in 1992, she stepped into a world rife with voyeurism and negativity, determined to claim her life and her identity despite the harsh gaze of society. Her activism is both deeply personal and profoundly generational. As co-founder of the Dublin Trans Peer Support Group and Chairperson of TENI, she has fought tirelessly to build structures of support, community, and legal recognition.
Under the leadership of both Sara and Broden Giambrone, former CEO in TENI, Ireland passed the historic Gender Recognition Act in 2015, making it one of the first countries in the world to allow adults to self-determine their gender on official documents. Beyond policy, she has curated the Irish Trans Archive, documenting over 300 years of Irish trans history, reminding us that trans lives are not a modern phenomenon, they are woven into the very fabric of our society. Sara’s work extends internationally through her roles on the boards of Transgender Europe and the International Trans Fund, while at home she continues shaping national conversations on gender, equality, and inclusion via the National Women’s Council of Ireland. Yet, for all her achievements, Sara’s activism is rooted in care, for those who came before her, for those who live now, and for those yet to come. In 2018, she walked Dublin Pride as Grand Marshal with her mother and daughter, a living testament to family, visibility, and resilience. This conversation with Sara is about courage and compassion, about the life-long work of claiming space, telling histories, and building futures. She embodies a rare blend of wisdom, warmth, and determination, reminding us that activism is not just about laws or campaigns, it’s about the people, the families, and the lives we fight to honor every single day.
Monika: Hello Sara! Thank you for accepting my invitation.
Sara: Thank you Monika, it is a pleasure to speak to you and share my insights and my story. Thank you for inviting me. Your introduction is very kind.
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| In 1996. |
Monika: Many of us move through life as wives, mothers, and daughters, often carrying the weight of our past and sometimes wishing we could leave it all behind. You, however, have chosen to embrace your identity with strength, becoming an advocate for transgender rights and speaking openly about the importance of presenting a positive image of our community. In all of this, have you ever felt tempted to remain in the background, to simply be seen as a woman without the added layer of being a transgender woman?
Sara: It was always my intention to try to live a more private life, to blend in, but at the same time embrace my identity when I needed to and accept what it meant to be trans. I was careful to protect myself throughout my transition, which didn’t happen overnight. My friend once said it was like the tide coming in.
Monika: At what point did your perspective shift from protecting your privacy to stepping into a more visible role for the community?
Sara: As I transitioned, the more I learned, the more I studied and researched, the more I understood that our community has always been marginalised, misunderstood, and vilified, and that narrative needed to change. The only way to do this was to provide positive stories and positive visibility, where family, friends, employers, schools, and wider society were supportive, where trans people could live their lives in their families, sports clubs, and pastimes without fear or voyeurism. I felt I was in a unique position to step into that spotlight. My family, my employer, and my friends were all supportive, and activism gave me the drive to change things for those who come after us.
Monika: You’ve worn many hats, from chairing TENI to serving on international boards. How do you prevent burnout, and what do you personally hold onto as fuel when the fight for trans equality feels endless?
Sara: Well, burnout is always a possibility and I have been on the verge a couple of times over the years and we all need to take care of our physical and mental health. Personally, I don’t sleep a lot and I like to have variety in what I do. There have been times when I took on far too much. I like to spend time with my family, girlfriend, travel, and embed myself in my music, whether collecting, listening, going to gigs or trying to play. All this takes my mind off activism for a little while. It’s important for all activists to step away and refuel, enjoy time with family and friends, and enjoy your interests.
Monika: The passage of Ireland’s Gender Recognition Act was a historic milestone, but progress never truly ends. How do you hold on to the sense of achievement from moments like this while also keeping attention on the struggles that remain, particularly for non-binary people, intersex individuals, and young people?
Sara: I agree, the Gender Recognition Act 2015 was historic for Ireland, and for the following two years we were able to maintain pressure to improve it, with a government review recommending the inclusion of non-binary people, those under 18, and intersex individuals. These recommendations were never implemented. We must celebrate the wins and remind ourselves and others of them when the anniversaries come around, but we also need to keep our focus on the foundation of our work. Social change and support mechanisms are key.
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| In 1999. |
Monika: What do you see as the most important areas where support is still urgently needed?
Sara: Trans people will continue to come out, and the more positive visibility there is, the larger our community will become. We need to help people navigate healthcare, education, employment, and the constant negativity in the media. Providing support networks and information is crucial, while also advocating across all these sectors, but above all starting with family. If your family understands and supports you, you have a foundation of strength. We need to let young people know they are supported, that they are valid, and that they can build a life filled with joy and happiness.
Monika: You’ve documented over 300 years of Irish trans history through the Irish Trans Archive. Was there a moment when uncovering a particular story made you feel deeply connected, or even unsettled, by the legacy of those who came before you?
Sara: There have been many moments through my research that have had a big impact on me. Small stories of an individual's existence, a moment of resilience, usually a moment of negativity, but I always wonder about the rest of their lives, the joy they had, the freedom, no different to what we experience today. One such story, from about 200 years ago in Ireland, caught my eye. It was a newspaper story of the person's death and the extraordinary inquest to discuss her gender after the autopsy. There was clearly a back story that wasn’t being told and I set out to research it. What I have found is an astonishing chronicle of a life with so much positivity, crazy stories which reach the highest points of Irish society, and the biggest diva of the past 200 odd years. I'm currently writing the book, and if I ever get to finish it I’ll send you a copy.
Monika: You came out during a period of “voyeurism and negativity.” How do you think the visibility of trans people today compares, and what lessons can today’s activists learn from those earlier, more precarious times?
Sara: We are in a very precarious time right now. While it is certainly different from when I came out, it is no less negative but in a very different and dangerous way. There is so much disinformation about trans people spread throughout the globe and especially in the western world, we have become the scapegoats for something bigger and more dangerous. We are much more visible and to a certain degree more vulnerable.
Back in the early 1990s there were so few of us that were out, today there are many more, but that also brings challenges. However, the key, for me, is to continue to build allies, educate society on who we are and what our hopes and aspirations are. Debunk the lies, break the so-called ideology, get back to educating people about our existence. We have to try to find ways to oppose the negative misinformation, not by just attacking it directly but by showing positive examples and information to those who can defend and support us. Education, education, education is the key.
Monika: Choosing a name is such a deeply personal decision, one that can hold layers of significance and meaning. How did you come to choose the name Sara? Does it carry a special resonance for you, perhaps representing a part of your journey or embodying a particular feeling or aspiration?
Sara: I don’t really know when I chose my name. I have a feeling it was always with me. From a very young age, it was a name I liked. So by the time I came out I already had the name. There was nothing of significance behind it, it was just that I liked it and I felt it fit me. I am also very precious about my spelling of the name, without an h. I get very upset inside when people spell it incorrectly. My middle names are chosen deliberately as they are my grandmothers’ names on my mother’s and father’s side. Most importantly, when I came out initially, I chose a surname that I felt was protecting my family, however I always knew that my family surname would be the one I chose to use as I transitioned.
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| Dublin Pride 2013. |
Monika: When you came out, did your mother embrace you as her daughter? And do you feel any connection to her in the way you look, carry yourself, or even in your style and mannerisms?
Sara: I think like all families, it takes time for them to come to terms with the changes in your name, pronouns, and appearance. However, they always made sure that I knew I had their support and that I was part of the family, especially my mum. Over the years I have just become the oldest daughter, rather than the oldest son. I think my style is very different from my mum’s but I've noticed mannerisms creep in over the past few years. We all turn into our mothers one day.
Monika: During your transition, did you have any transgender role models who inspired you or helped guide your journey?
Sara: I took my inspirations from many places. I know I designed my transition through the knowledge I had sourced from many different places. I also knew that I could never be a Caroline Cossey or April Ashley, but their strength certainly empowered me. My trans friend Caroline was also important in my journey. I was able to explore my identity in a safe and comfortable environment. I was a little wayward in those early days, living a second (maybe first if I thought about it) puberty and I often got lost with transition. I needed to focus on my future and that needed time and support. Caroline provided advice and a listening ear. She could also be a very practical teacher. I am just sad she couldn’t listen to her own advice as she never got to transition.
Monika: I finally felt free after my transition. How about you? Was there a single moment, or maybe a series of moments, where you truly felt like you had stepped into your most authentic self?
Sara: Social transition for me was my first liberation and my first tentative steps into the world were fraught with fear, but the moment I took those first steps, I knew I would never go back. But there was still always a sense of not being me. Mentally it allowed me to explore who I am, what I stand for, and who was to be presented to the world. It never gave me a glimpse of who I really was. Medical and surgical transition provided the final step for me personally. This was never about who I presented to the outside world but was always about me, how I could live with myself, feel comfortable in my body. I have always lived within my physical differences, but finally getting to where I wanted to go provided that freedom.
Monika: Many transgender women have a variety of experiences with hormone therapy. Looking back, how do you feel about the physical and emotional effects it’s had on you?
Sara: Hormone therapy was like giving me a blood transfusion. It woke me up, brought me alive, helped me to be me. A friend once compared it to putting petrol in a car after having diesel in it for so many years when it should have been on petrol all along (too masculine an explanation for me, but it works). It was and can certainly be emotional, but I don’t have any issue with that, in fact I embrace it. I am and always will be an emotional person. As my natural levels were already elevated, the physical changes when they came were satisfying. They provided more evidence that this was me.
END OF PART 1
All photos: courtesy of Sara R Phillips.
© 2025 - Monika Kowalska
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