Corey Rae

I was 12 years old when I discovered the word “transgender.” It was my Eureka moment. I had felt like a girl for as long as I could remember but didn’t know how (or if I could ever) present myself as one. Finding a word I could identify with was monumental because it validated my feelings from all those years and let me know there was hope.

When I first transitioned during my junior and senior years of high school, I wasn’t stealth, meaning I didn’t hide my transition. I was open about my identity in front of my classmates and town. In fact, I became the world’s first openly transgender prom queen in 2010. I had always idolized the classic ‘90s and early ‘00s prom stories, and wanted to emulate the beautiful girls on screen. When I started to transition, I thought I could make that dream come true, so I ran, got nominated, and won. It was like the movie moment I had always dreamed of, and I realized that night that if I wanted something badly enough and worked hard for it, it could come true.

But throughout college and a year beyond, I did live stealth, mainly out of concern for my safety and wanting to have a “normal” college girl experience. By June 2016, it felt like I was living a double life between the people I knew from high school and the ones I met afterward. I was trying my hardest to keep those worlds—and the friends I had in them—separate. It was weighing heavily on me and I needed to release it.

In 2016, I was working in a hospitality job I hated, so I decided to create a digital modeling portfolio and also started writing what I thought would be the first chapter of my book, which eventually became my first blog post. Then the Pulse nightclub shooting happened. Seeing an attack on the LGBTQIA+ community horrified me. And even though Caitlyn Jenner had recently come out, which made the media and general public discuss transgender people more openly, most people had such negative thoughts about the trans community. There was no education, no awareness, no respect. I knew that we could be loved and supported, and that we could transition beautifully from a young age because I was a product of that. I knew I couldn’t stay silent—that I needed to stand up, speak out, and help people see my community in a more positive light. So, I ultimately decided to publish that first blog post, called “Allow Me to Reintroduce Myself.”

As important as it is to tell stories of the horrible things that happen to trans people—specifically trans women of color—it’s also important to show that they can grow up to be beautiful and successful. Representation matters, which is why I continue to show people that trans women can be young, fun, cool, and sexy. I do this through activism, sharing a majority of my life on social media, press interviews, and articles such as this one, and through acting, writing, and producing projects that will hopefully prove these points. I want young trans kids to know there is hope, and that we can live a positive, happy, fulfilled life.

So, to anyone who’s struggling with embracing their identity, my advice would be to take your time, and know that no 2 people’s lives are the same, so no 2 transitions will be the same. Don’t compare yourself to me, celebrities, people on social media, or anyone else. Although I lived stealth out of a concern for safety, I don’t know if that’s what’s best anymore. As long as people are in a place where they feel safe and secure, I encourage them to own their truth and start living their lives authentically and out loud. Just know that the hard times will pass, and it does get better.