Monika: Many of us feel the pressure to “pass” as women, and even after surgeries, society keeps judging us. How do you personally deal with the outside world’s expectations?
Sarah: Well, I’m lucky, in that I mostly pass. My biggest problem is my voice, which just begs for the wrong pronouns whenever I’m on the phone.I would rather use any other form of communication, Morse code, smoke signals, carrier pigeon!
Monika: (laughs) I can relate. So what about day-to-day life, how did transition affect that?
Sarah: When I first transitioned, I had to wear a lot of makeup to cover a lot of stubble. Electrolysis liberated me. I stopped wearing makeup, and I’ve mostly never looked back, exceptions: my sons’ weddings and such.
I also avoided things like repairing my car in the driveway. However, I’ve gotten over that. I just live as myself, mostly casual clothing, often grubby work clothes. I suppose there are a number of things trans people might want from transition. For me, it’s all about the social roles. I’m comfortable with me, and others are comfortable with me, too.
Monika: For me, it was different. I remember the time right after my transition, it was pure euphoria. My closet is still full of dresses and shoes that I literally bought by the dozens back then, and I must have tried on hundreds. I felt like I had to make up for all those years that were taken from me.
Sarah: Oh, I did that, too. But that’s when I was young and cute, and when everything looked good on me. I do know what you mean about making up for lost time. I transitioned at age 35, so I didn’t really have much youth left. I would give anything to start over as the right gender. Of course, that would make me a lesbian kid, which would have challenges of its own.
Monika: Choosing a name is such a deeply personal decision, one that can hold layers of meaning. How did you come to choose the name Sarah? Does it carry a special resonance for you, like part of your journey or a feeling you wanted to embody?
Sarah: My name doesn’t have any special meaning. I think it’s a pretty and dignified name. There were a few Sarahs I knew during my life, and all of them were strong, intelligent girls and women.
Monika: In the early movement, disagreements often happened behind closed doors, over phone calls or conference tables. Today, conflict plays out publicly and permanently online. Do you think that’s helped or hurt the community?
Sarah: Oh, back in our day, we also had public feuds preserved online, at least within email circles. Back then, they were called “flame wars.” I’ve been flamed. I’ve never initiated flames, that I’m aware of, but I’m certainly guilty of snarky retorts. And, of course, I was a participant in the TransFlakes rebellion, where we really did have to take down some bad stuff in order to move forward. I would say this in-fighting is usually detrimental, as it’s usually petty and personal. But there are times when a fight needs to be won to set the course straight. I think we’d all be grateful if the personal/petty stuff were kept off to the side. The headline fights, though, must take place in the public sphere, and I suppose social media may be useful that way.
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| Doing Trans 101 at a Psych 101 class at her university. |
Sarah: Well, that’s a very insightful question. These definitions are all about identity, and identity determines mission.
Monika: Right, so how do you see that playing out over time?
Sarah: I don’t know that the term “transgender” has expanded. It has certainly changed. Back in the mid to late 1990s, when the term came into popular usage, it was an extremely broad umbrella term. It included what we called back then transvestites/crossdressers, preop and postop transsexuals, non-op transsexuals, drag queens/kings, and those who were outwardly nonbinary (modern term). Basically, it included anyone who at some time presented differently from the norms of their birth gender.
Nowadays, “transgender” no longer refers so much to outward expression as to an internal feeling or sense. So, someone might feel nonbinary inside without expressing it outwardly and still be considered transgender. Meanwhile, a crossdresser or drag performer who feels no internal gender incongruity might not be considered transgender at all.
Monika: That’s an interesting shift. And what about the term “transsexual”?
Sarah: The term transsexual has been so engulfed by “transgender” that there’s no polite way to describe someone like me with specificity about medical or anatomical status. We used to call someone like me “transsexual,” but now it seems pejorative to some.
Monika: Got it. So how does all this affect activism and politics?
Sarah: I’d like to think it doesn’t. Back in the 1990s, we were wrestling with the language our civil rights legislation should use. One of my missions was to make sure any law that said “gender identity” also said “or expression.” That phrasing would provide broad coverage and prevent opponents from finding loopholes. That “identity or expression” framework is in almost all modern legislation, even if it’s buried in definitions.
When “transgender” is in a group’s mission statement, the definition decides who they advocate for. Personally, I dislike narrowing these terms. I’ve always believed in big-tent coalitions. They’re hard to build because they rely on mutual trust, and that trust erodes when people argue about who belongs.
Monika: And what about public understanding?
Sarah: It confuses the public, but I don’t think that’s bad. I’d rather the public stop trying to dissect us. I’ve always preferred the most global terms possible. I was an early adopter of “queer,” which some fuddy duddies still see as a pejorative. I think it defines all of us as people who transgress gender norms. And being queer is just fine! Best of all, broad coalitions give us broad numbers, and that gives us relevance.
Monika: I understand that Transgender emerged as an umbrella term that could unite many gender-nonconforming people into a single civil-rights movement. However, I tend to think of myself as transsexual. I know the term originated in medical and psychiatric contexts, where trans people were often framed as patients needing diagnosis and approval, but for me it speaks to aligning my physical sex characteristics, and it also carries survival, history, and hard-won legitimacy. How do you feel about trans people reclaiming “transsexual” as a self-descriptor today, and do you think there is room, politically or culturally, for more precise language without reopening old wounds?
Sarah: Well, I think every conversation creates a context that demands precise language. For instance, a conversation about trans issues might include the term cisgender. However, we wouldn’t use that term outside of that context. The same is true of the term transsexual. There are very important discussions that need to take place about transsexualism specifically, and I don’t know any other way to have those discussions without using the term “transsexual,” which seems to offend some people.
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| With Vanessa Edwards Foster in front of the White House 1997. |
Monika: Some of that discomfort seems to come from fears about implication, especially around surgery or medical transition. Do you think that’s where much of the resistance originates?
Sarah: I don’t fully understand these feelings about the term. I think many in the transgender community (which, as a reminder, no longer includes crossdressers and drag performers) might object to the term “transsexual” because it implies their trajectory is to transition surgically. However, we had a way of describing such people with no intent to have surgery, whether for personal or financial reasons. We called them “non-op transsexuals,” vs. “pre-op” (intending to have surgery) and “post-op” (already undergone surgery).
This kind of parsing is actually why I love big-tent umbrella terms. Whenever we carve ourselves into smaller and smaller identity categories, there’s a human tendency to compare, rank, and argue about them internally. When you zoom out and look at this from the perspective of straight society, they don’t understand these distinctions at all. And unless they are personally close to a trans person, they don’t really need to.
Monika: When those internal distinctions collide with external hostility, what do you think the real political cost is of fragmenting ourselves too much?
Sarah: Let me give you a concrete example. Because of right-wing backlash against Drag Queen Story Hour, a bill was once considered in Ohio that would literally have made it a felony for me to read a book to my grandchildren. The definitions in the bill made no distinction between drag queens, transgender people, or post-op transsexual women.
So how do we respond to that? Do trans women say, “No, no, don’t include us, we’re not drag queens”? And then drag queens say, “No, no, we’re not the dangerous ones either”? All that does is weaken everyone involved.
The stronger response is collective: to stand together and say that queer people are not harming children, we are trying to make reading more joyful and inclusive. In the end, the people opposing us don’t care about our internal distinctions. Either they accept all of us, or they reject all of us.
Monika: You were part of a generation that often had to educate first before advocating. Do you feel that the movement has lost anything by assuming a baseline of understanding that may not actually exist?
Sarah: I don’t know that modern activists assume a baseline understanding, but I honestly haven’t worked with them enough to know. As a scientist, I certainly wouldn’t write a paper or give a talk without offering a very quick definition of the terms I use. You never know who is reading or who is in the audience. The same is true with lobbying for LGBTQ rights. I find that if people are confused, they usually ask for clarification anyway.
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| Speaking at an EBaH rally on a brutally windy day. |
Sarah: I think the two are inextricably bound, but I understand your meaning. I think visibility is essential, but we must all balance the gains against the risks in this political climate. I am selective about my visibility. I am out to people in my life who I trust, and I am not out to other people in my life who I do not trust. And to other people in the world who are not part of my personal community, I am out to those I feel are safe, IF there is a point to being out. Otherwise, I’m not out. And ultimately, I would like to return to a time when it doesn’t matter whether I’m out, because being transgender is probably the least interesting thing about me.
Monika: Many trans elders describe a sense of historical erasure, where earlier work gets forgotten or oversimplified. What do you wish people remembered about the activists of your generation?
Sarah: The activism of my generation was largely centered on inclusion. Without inclusion in the broader LGBTQ efforts, we have almost no voice.
Monika: Inclusion as survival, not just symbolism?
Sarah: Yes, inclusion as survival. To use the tired old metaphor of circling wagons, what if we only have one wagon? Our numbers do keep growing as we continue to come out of the woodwork, but we are still a small minority of the LGBTQ community.
What we have to continue being is an important minority. We trans people really do earn our keep, because we are the badass warriors of the LGBTQ civil rights movement. We are fire-hardened, and we fight like our lives depend on it. All the advancements we’ve made as the unified LGBTQIA2S++++ community were possible only because we fought shoulder to shoulder with people who might not even fully understand us.
Monika: That unity feels especially fragile right now.
Sarah: It is. Our adversaries, the religious right, the TERF movement, and others, are trying to split us apart because they understand that power dynamic very well. Their strategy is to drive wedges between us by bombarding us with grievance propaganda, like the idea that gay and lesbian people would be better off shedding trans people who “don’t belong” or who have “gone too far.”
None of us should listen to that or fall for it. Every time we hear it, we should circle our wagons even tighter. Remember that transgender inclusion, a coalition of the entire LGBTQIA2S+++ community, was the number one achievement of our generation. That’s what made all our progress possible. Don’t let it go.
Monika: Given how central coalition-building has been to our progress, do you think there is still a genuine path toward broader acceptance of trans women within feminist movements? And if so, what do you believe has helped, or could help, bridge that divide rather than deepen it?
Sarah: Monika, the TERF movement is a mirage, and in my opinion, TERFs aren’t really even feminists, right? Their entire mission is built on defining women according to their reproductive anatomy, something I think mainstream feminists roundly reject. The broader feminist community already does accept us. We have a long history with them, and they know all too well the importance of coalition building. They didn’t make any real progress themselves until they became racially inclusive.
That doesn’t mean we can take our acceptance for granted. The TERFs are gaining ground with their disinformation propaganda. Now is the time for us to cluster even tighter with our allies. For instance, I think we have a lot in common with regard to autonomy over our own bodies. We should be fighting alongside pro-choice feminists for reproductive freedom, just like they should be fighting alongside us for gender affirming care. The arguments mostly overlap.
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| Ohio State U., October 11, 2000, at a student gathering on National Coming Out Day. |
Sarah: I think we can weather the attacks and come through them with the turn of political cycles, but I think fragmentation is something that can cripple our movement potentially for generations. We were all unified in 1969, made a lot of noise, raised a lot of awareness, and then fragmented in 1972 or 1973. It took us over two decades to regroup.
Monika: Many trans women are writing their memoirs these days. Have you ever thought about writing your own book?
Sarah: I have, and I might. I think it is important, now that we are being erased. The focus would be less about me and more about the times I’ve lived through. I’ve had the honor and privilege of working alongside some amazingly bright, strong, and talented people, of whom I’m in awe.
Monika: If you could quietly pass one piece of hard-earned wisdom to a young trans activist just starting out, something you learned the hard way, what would it be?
Sarah: Just one? Come on…
Monika: (laughs) Okay, give us the short masterclass.
Sarah: First: you will never have more leverage over a politician than during a political primary. Primaries usually draw maybe 10% of voter participation compared to general elections, and the same goes for off-year elections. If you want to remove a renegade incumbent, that’s where and how you do it. You need a serious get-out-the-vote effort to support a challenger.
Monika: That’s already more practical than most activist advice. What else?
Sarah: Don’t just lobby Democrats. Lobby Republicans too. Not every Democrat is our friend, and not every Republican is our enemy. We’d actually have more Republican support if we showed up in their offices more often.
When you lobby Republicans, think like a Republican. Dress nicely and professionally. Avoid anything “in your face.” Go in with economic arguments. Talk about how discrimination against trans people reduces labor force participation, lowers tax revenue, increases entitlement spending like Medicaid, and shrinks economic activity.
Also remind them that trans people are among the most creative people in society because we already know how to think outside the box. And always try to give lawmakers arguments they can use to justify their votes to conservative constituents.
Monika: And after the meeting?
Sarah: Say thank you. Follow up. Send a handwritten thank-you card. After every meeting, write down detailed notes about what was discussed and share them with other activists who will be visiting the same office later.
Monika: That level of discipline really matters, doesn’t it?
Sarah: It does. In order of decreasing effectiveness, here’s how to interact with a lawmaker’s office: A lobbying visit, always the highest impact. Calling and speaking with a legislative assistant, bonus points if you make an appointment. A printed letter. A phone call answered by a junior staffer. Personalized emails or voicemail. Canned emails. Petitions are almost always useless. Protests can raise awareness, but you won’t persuade a lawmaker with one.
Monika: A lot of people are scared of calling offices.
Sarah: Oh, phone calls are easier than you think. A usually friendly junior staffer answers. Identify yourself and your relationship to the office, like being a constituent. State your concern. Identify the bill by number. They’ll say they’ve noted it and will relay it to the lawmaker. You both say thanks, and that’s it. Easy peasy.
Monika: Any final strategic tips?
Sarah: Don’t just contact your own representatives. If a bill is in committee, contact every committee member. If it affects a relative in another district, call their reps. You can always contact leadership, like the Speaker of the House.
And I’ve found that if my message is “support or oppose this bill or I’ll donate to your opponent,” I can call just about anyone. Likewise, if I’ve donated to a campaign, I feel fully entitled to call and voice my concerns. I usually preface by saying I’m a campaign contributor.
Finally, when forming alliances with other movements, like the pro-choice movement, remember they’re not just there to help you. You have to put in real work for them too.
Monika: So what’s the core philosophy behind all of this?
Sarah: We’re as good as anyone else. So, we should hold our heads high and demand our rights like we deserve them, because we do. Don’t let anyone make you feel small or unworthy. Or in the words of a very wise woman, “It’s all attitude, honey.”
END OF PART 3
The photo in front of the White House: courtesy of Vanessa Edwards Foster.
The other photos: courtesy of Sarah Fox.
© 2025 - Monika Kowalska
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