Monika: And what about the others?
Vanessa: Dawn Wilson and Anne Casebeer (both from Kentucky) I met and stayed with one night on my very first lobbying trip to Washington with ICTLEP. In fact, I learned mostly from Dawn and Anne how to lobby. Watching Dawn go off-script and personalize her pitch while lobbying truly struck a chord in me, something I would use in lobbyist training in the years to come by not doing a scripted speech (like Phyllis wanted), but instead having a lobbying packet with numerous subjects and telling people to structure their pitch to something they could relate to and personalize – a more impactful way of pushing for whichever legislation selections we had.
Sarah Fox and Cathy Platine I met in 1997 on my second trip to DC for GenderPAC’s lobby days. JoAnn Roberts was not one of the eight of us who voted to found NTAC (the eighth, Danielle Clarke, voted for us to stay with GenderPAC). JoAnn was the first to step up to bankroll the founding of NTAC, along with Diane Dale, and I met them both (albeit in male mode) at our board meeting at Southern Comfort 2000 shortly after seating all our board members.
Monika: Dawn Josephine Wilson, a Kentucky-based church elder, world-class fencer, and dedicated LGBTQ+ advocate, was perhaps the most well-known member of this group.
Vanessa: Yes she was, absolutely! And with good reason. She was once a Lincoln Republican, and pre-transition, worked in some capacity in Sen. Mitch McConnell’s office! It’s another reason I keyed in on her lobbying skills, as she was much more polished, relaxed (which I was not that first time), and more capable of speaking with other congressional aides on their level. That’s what I was trying to copy for the rest of my first lobbying trip to DC. She and the late Dee McKellar also took over the lead from me at Sen. Harkin’s office, where we first discovered HRC undermining us by pre-lobbying the ICTLEP event, and managed to get a lot of information from that aide. She also noted (as did I and a few others besides me) the pre-lobbying before both of the two GenderPAC lobby events in ‘97 and ‘99, and was a catalyst about our need to address this in the meeting that created NTAC. She was even the one who chose the restaurant, La Panetteria in Bethesda MD, where we always went to debrief after those early forays on the Hill.
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| "Transparency was our strong suit." |
Vanessa: True, though there probably should have been more recognition for Anne, as she stayed involved as long as I did. More so than I, she kept a low profile since she was never going to transition, and ended up tending to her business, her wife, and their relationship. Maybe she was much better at telling people “no” than I was. Either that, or maybe she didn’t get so many of the “we want you on this,” “we want you to do that,” or “you need to join X.” She managed to keep a much better personal-life balance than I did. And passability be damned, Anne was actually a damn effective lobbyist in my eyes! Truly she was, even though she was busy trying to convince me that I was (which I wasn’t buying at the time)! She also did a lot of things with a lower profile: she was immediately one of NTAC’s officers (albeit board secretary), and coordinated most of our lobby-day logistics while cataloging the collection of our lobbying notes from visits on the Hill. Of all those mentioned in this question, she was definitely someone who should’ve gotten that recognition.
As for the others, Cathy Platine and Dawn had an early falling out, and there was a lot of rancor on the board before Dawn, and then later Cathy, dropped out. Cathy and another Trans woman ended up purchasing an old, defunct inn at the foothills of the Catskill Mountains, turning it into a haven for unhoused Trans people for a time. Later, it became a place of worship for the Cybellene Maetreum, as it's called, a somewhat Celtic or Wiccan religion. She dropped out of activism around that time, around 2000.
Both Sarah Fox in 2000 and later Jessica Redman in 2001 dropped out to go stealth and focus on their careers and marriages.
Monika: NTAC differed from other transgender advocacy organizations by operating without paid employees, office space, or financial backing from other organizations, maintaining its independence and transparency. In hindsight, was this the right decision?
Vanessa: In hindsight, no. Actually, that was my fault. Dawn originally went to fundraise shortly after GenderPAC purged all its Trans board members and shifted to a "gender" or genderqueer focus (the parlance at that time). When she did, both she and Yosenio got firmly rebuffed. The general response was, “We just got burned by the group we thought was our Trans advocates, and now you come along wanting money for your brand-new group? Who are you, and why should we?” Initially, Dawn felt this was racism rearing its ugly head, as both she and Yosenio Lewis, as VP, were Trans people of color. My counter was for them to listen to what they were saying: they rightfully felt burned, and we were brand new with no track record. So, why not set a five-year period where we wouldn’t fundraise, develop a body of accomplishments, and then reapproach it with proof of what we had done? It worked in preventing that from devolving into what I feared would be a divisive issue.
Monika: But that wasn’t the only challenge NTAC faced, was it?
Vanessa: Another kink in the plan was not getting our 501(c)(3) established at the same time we got the 501(c)(4). Christine Stinson, our treasurer, suddenly resigned due to issues with the board, who voted to add a Veterans Committee (which later broke away to become TAVA) onto the NTAC board committees midway through that process of getting our 501(c)(3). Unfortunately, I shouldn’t have suggested such a long timeline for our initial promise, particularly when a competitor emerged on the horizon in three and a half years, raising funds, opening an office, and founding her own group, based not on any track record of her own, but rather on the progress we had all made over the years. It was my insistence that we live up to our word.
In the end, that’s what sucked the oxygen out of the atmosphere before we even got started with fundraising. NCTE became the choice of HRC and others in the G&L community. They tended to be more cherry-picked, focusing on successful Trans people rather than drawing from the entirety of the community as we did. This approach proved much more attractive to the money people and the HRC folks. Transparency was our strong suit, but the more controlled, non-transparent approach was preferred by the ones who could make a difference.
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| "Maybe I expected too much when I first went up on the Hill." |
Monika: You’ve gone head-to-head with politicians of all stripes, some slammed doors in your face, while others surprised you by actually listening. Who was the most unexpected ally you ever found on Capitol Hill?
Vanessa: Maybe I expected too much when I first went up on the Hill. Most everyone was underwhelming early on. One office where I was surprised to get an attentive audience and was actually treated politely, seeming to care about the subject, was the staffer in Sen. Jesse Helms’ office! After being treated like an "it," laughed at, or rudely dealt with in offices like Phil Gramm’s, Tom DeLay’s, or the worst, Trent Lott’s offices, I was very surprised at both visits to Jesse Helms’ office and how the aide did take notes, not just smile and nod. A distant second were my visits with Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison, where I did have cordial chats (though no support) and actually got a couple of photos with her on two visits to her office.
Two others were Sen. George Voinovich (similar to Hutchison) and one, Sen. Fred Thompson, who came out and told me he was never going to support our issues for “special rights,” but did give us a recount of HRC’s visit to their office and how they were denigrating and damaging our efforts (George did a little of that as well). While not an ally, he and Voinovich did us a favor by letting us know what occurred while we weren’t around, giving us an accurate lay of the land. It was something Thompson in particular felt was “shitty” and violated his sense of principle.
As for an actual GOP ally, I’d have to go with TX State Rep. Warren Chisum, hands down. Sen. Shapiro and Carona supported us on the Senate side, but getting anything out of Texas’ crazy House was a major feat, as that was where all the extremists were. In the House, there really wasn’t such a thing as a GOP moderate in those little gerrymandered fiefdoms. It’s because of Chisum that we even have any kind of an inclusive James Byrd Hate Crimes Bill.
Monika: At that time, politics seemed to be a domain dominated by men. Did that make your lobbying efforts more difficult, or did you find that the empathy from female and male politicians was similar?
Vanessa: That’s a good question, but I don’t think I can quantify whether gender made a tangible difference in actual support. Women were slightly more amenable to our causes overall, while men tended to be more overt in their opposition. But this was subjective. We had Democrats of both genders who opposed us, though far fewer than Republicans, who were almost uniformly against us.
That said, some of my strongest allies were women, like Texas Rep. Debra Danburg, who was staunchly and heroically supportive. One of the two Texas senators who backed the inclusive language in the James Byrd Bill was also a woman, and my biggest ally on the GOP side. On the flip side, Texas Rep. Arlene Wohlegemuth and the legislative director in Texas Sen. Tom Deuell’s office once called DPS (Texas State Police) on me, having me escorted from their offices simply because I countered their biblical quotes with red-letter text biblical quotes of my own. There was no disturbance, just the fact that I turned their own discourse against them and exposed their hypocrisy. Unfortunately, I had several run-ins with DPS over that issue in Austin.
We also had Dianne Hardy-Garcia, executive director of LGRL (the Lesbian/Gay Rights Lobby) in Texas, who actively worked against me. She personally followed me around and back-lobbied against me in the legislature during the 1999–2001 fight over the James Byrd Hate Crimes Bill, ultimately helping to lobby trans people out of the bill’s inclusion. Yet LGRL never even managed to get GOP Rep. Warren Chisum on board! I learned in 2009 that neither she nor the lobbyist for Equality Texas had ever been granted an in-person meeting with him. Chisum told me himself that their only visit involved them being “rude, cussing at him, calling him names, and raising their voices” (I only did the latter).
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| "Everyone is in “hunker-down” mode, just trying to survive." |
Monika: You once said that Trans activism is unique because, for many of us, it’s about survival. Do you think this urgency gives us an advantage, or does it sometimes burn us out before we can make the long-term impact we need?
Vanessa: I don’t know how much of an advantage it would be, beyond creating a community of us who are more motivated to push for our rights due to the urgency of surviving, as you put it. We’re always, even in good times, right on the edge, just a hair’s breadth from falling into the abyss. We remain a small, easily overlooked, cash-poor community without significant infrastructure or a voice. Only this year did we finally get a “seat at the table,” but it was immediately rendered mute.
Moreover, we’re still dependent on other communities that can’t fully understand our urgency, let alone share it. In short, that’s not much of an advantage! Unlike other communities, we must fight a multi-front war, taking on those within the GLB community before we even get the chance to face the real battle with conservatives. We have many individuals with the drive and determination due to our diverse circumstances, but over time, this will lead to burnout. It’s what burned me out in 2009 after too many battles in a twelve-plus-year stint; it became a dispiriting grind. Right now, in the midst of the first month of Trump 2.0, we’re not in a position to mount much of any offensive. Everyone is in “hunker-down” mode, just trying to survive. It’ll probably be at least another four years before we see any light at the end of the tunnel and a renewal of the fight. Time will tell.
Monika: You’ve dedicated so much of your life to fighting for others, have you ever had a moment where you just stopped and thought, "Damn, I’m proud of what I’ve done"?
Vanessa: Both yes and no. The James Byrd Bill in Texas is a good example. Yes, there’s a sense of accomplishment in achieving inclusion. But there’s also a measure of shame in not being able to secure it for my own people, even after the second attempt, ten years later. It was only in the past year that I had the courage to even bring it up, as I feared I’d be criticized for not getting us included. The lack of coverage affected me personally, and the last thing I wanted was for others in the Trans community to accuse me of abandoning us or selling us out. I did not! And I’ll never forget former Sen. Rodney Ellis for lying to me and selling us out. Otherwise, I would have made it known loudly at the time. But I believed him, and then later thought I could get it done anyway. In some ways, I worry that our efforts to raise awareness only put us on the Heritage Foundation’s radar, and subsequently made us #1 on their hit list!
But I am truly proud of how we moved the ball forward in the press at the turn of the millennium, getting the demonization and dehumanizing language of Trans people, especially those who were mostly victimized or vilified unfairly, out of the media lexicon. This helped society at large recognize Trans people as sentient human beings with families, ambitions, skills, and all the same desires that most everyone else had and took for granted. It was such a sea change from the ‘90s that I like to think the favorable press and our advocacy efforts in Congress, universities, colleges, and local churches around the country made it less frightening to come out into society with more understanding, at least for a decade or so, until the pendulum began to swing back violently. We’re no longer hidden and unknown, whether for better or for worse.
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| "We’re no longer hidden and unknown" |
Vanessa: Ooh, that’s a sore subject! In short, yes. Very much so. When I think of friends, even former crossdressers, who obtained surgery, married, and moved on with their lives, it’s depressing. It feels like I’m stuck in place, amberized, while life around me goes on. So, I try not to think about it. Instead, for over a decade, I’ve focused on working and trying to repair my financial situation because activism was, and is expensive! With any luck, it’ll provide a little extra for my retirement to survive on. And now, retirement will have to be out of the country, so that’s a new wrinkle. Who knows if this dream will happen? But I know Murphy’s Law is always right behind me, so I’ve got to prepare for that, always!
Monika: And those women who gave up activism to undergo feminization surgeries, get married, and blend in as 'perfect wives', did they ever return to support the organization? I imagine these two paths, activism and blending in, don’t align at all.
Vanessa: True, activism and “woodworking” (as we used to call it) are almost always mutually exclusive. An exception to this is Danielle Askini, a political activist who somehow managed to thread that needle, staying deeply involved in activism while also balancing a relationship, a husband, and even surgeries! She recalls attending her first lobby day at NTAC and receiving initial support and mentoring from Monica Roberts. That astonishes me, I still have no idea how she managed it! For me, that balance was always elusive. I was too monomaniacally focused on my organizational and political demands, at least until economic desperation forced a shift. Survival, and keeping a roof over my head, took priority as I scraped by on the scant income from my spotty employment.
Monika: How did you choose the name Vanessa? Does it hold special meaning for you?
Vanessa: Good question. In 1983, as I prepared to go out for the first time, traveling cross-country to Fantasia Fair on Cape Cod, I began considering my first name. My birth name started with an M, and my family called me by my second name, which began with an S, but neither felt right. Monique didn’t click with me either. Since I had never used my birth father’s last name, Edwards, I thought, why not use my third name, Van? That’s how Van Edwards became Vanessa Edwards, and it clicked immediately! No one would know it was me.
Fun fact: While at Fantasia Fair, I was chatting with a man who kept asking questions, trying to catch me off guard. At one point, he asked, ‘So, Vanessa, what’s your middle name?’ I hadn’t thought that far ahead, so I just blurted out my mom’s middle name, Lorraine. He responded, ‘Vanessa Lorraine Edwards, that’s a beautiful name!’And I agreed!
Later, when it came time for my legal name change, I kept Vanessa Lorraine Edwards but also re-added the M (Maura) and S (Simmi) from my birth name, along with my stepdad’s last name, Foster. So now, I have the second most names in my family, only outdone by Aunt Mossy, who, like me, never used her first name!"
END OF PART 2
All photos: courtesy of Vanessa Edwards Foster, unless otherwise noted.
© 2025 - Monika Kowalska
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