Hiram College hosted a Suicide Prevention Walk last weekend. I’m sure there have been a million stories sent out about it, but I trust that this story — my story — is a little different.
I woke up at 8:02 in the morning. I was supposed to be on campus taking pictures, starting at 8:00. I am not a morning person. I did not want to attend the event. But I work for College Relations and they sent me out, on a Saturday morning, to get pictures of the event.
This is mom Erin and daughter Evie: 
I was glad to see them. I used to teach Evie when she was in pre-school and I had Erin as a professor in the recent past. Erin had proved to be a valued ally — she's one of the first people I came out to as being trans masculine. Seeing their faces at the pancake breakfast before the walk began gave me a little boost of hope that I needed.
The whole night before, I had tossed and turned with nightmares about my family's less-than-supportive response to my coming out two weekends prior. I was worried about the upcoming Easter dinner and other family gatherings. I had been feeling discouraged and unwanted and unloved. But then I saw Erin and remembered that some people take using correct pronouns and respecting identity seriously. And I was comforted some.
I had to track down some sort of story to pull together on the off chance the office wanted to use it — but my boss had told me several times it was unlikely they would use it as they already posted a story about this year's event. I decided, at random, to approach this group of kids:
Check out some pieces of their board: 
I was so taken aback by these kids and their awareness and passion for this issue. I felt a little less alone. I felt a little less desperate. Their booth had pride flags made out of construction paper, and invited people to stick it in the ground to support people in the MOGAI community — either in memory of a lost loved one due to suicide who belonged to the MOGAI community, or in hope for their own self and their own struggle.
I stuck a trans flag in the ground. After that, the kids stopped using the "she" pronoun for me and just used my name. It was so affirming. They didn't know to ask for my pronouns, and I didn't have enough spoons to just tell them, but they knew enough to stop calling me "she."
I watched as the event went on. As people passed by, more and more people placed flags in the ground:
I was proud to watch those young ones talk to groups of people and explain why they were standing out in the chilly weather that day:
I still feel pretty low most days. But Saturday's event gave me a sense of community and... hope. And I'm thankful for that small group of kids for being braver than I was at their age. They made a difference in my life.
I'm thankful for Erin and Evie and have even more respect for them knowing their lives were impacted by suicide:
I'm thankful for Nina (red hair) who shared a very small bit of her personal struggle with me on Saturday and, again, those kids:
And I'm thankful for Chris, who talked at "open mic" after the featured speaker. Chris talked about how he was impacted by a transgender friend's suicide:
