Activism Comes in Many Forms

Lessons from my life as a trans activist

Activism Comes in Many Forms

Speech by Spencer Bergstedt, JD

Presented at the UUA Beyond the Binary Conference, Syracuse, NY April 26, 2025

WELCOME

Welcome to you all. I’m so pleased to be here and share this time with you. I’d like to take a moment to thank the conference organizers, staff, and volunteers who have made this event possible. I’d like to thank Maxx and Amy for all their hard work and their flexibility in allowing me to be here virtually today.

I struggled with the decision to travel or not. At the end of the day, however, I had to decide how to be of best use to all of you while honoring my own risk assessment about air travel in today’s political climate. As a father of a disabled child, a caretaker to my elderly mother, my own health issues, and being an outspoken trans activist who also happens to be an immigrant – I made the decision that I thought was best.

I invite you all to stay at the conclusion of the speech for the Fireside Chat. I hope you bring lots of questions and help me learn from you all.

INTRODUCTION

It is no secret that the world in which we live in the moment is fraught with instability, uncertainty, and a good deal of fear. All of us here this weekend are no doubt experiencing an ever-evolving hurricane of emotions as our very existence is being attacked on a near daily basis. It feels overwhelming - because it is. The efforts on the part of federal, state, and local governments is purposefully designed to be overwhelming, to make you afraid, and to make you compliant. My aim today is to try to calm some of those fears and to hopefully, give you some tools for resistance, and encourage you to revel in your existence.

Before I get to any of that though, I want to apologize to you all. In preparing this speech, I realized something – my generation and the generations after mine – have not done a good job of sharing our experiences of political resistance, activism, community building, resilience, and the power of joy with all of you. As a result, you may feel at a bit of a loss of what to do to meet this challenging moment in time.

Resistance and activism is like a very complex spider’s web. Each action builds on every other action - and each is essential for creating the beauty and strength of the web. No action is inconsequential, none is too small, and none is replaceable. The web we collectively weave is the one that will bring about positive change.

I’m hopeful that in sharing my stories about activism that you will find some resolve to engage with your own activism and that you find some hope.

PART ONE – MY CHILDHOOD AND ACTIVISM

I was born nearly 62 years ago (my birthday is in a few weeks) in 1963. When I look back at my childhood – say from my earliest memories at maybe age 3 until I was 10 – it was a time of immense social, political, and global change. I grew up in the Seattle area (where I still live) in a household with parents who thankfully never censored the news from me. I watched Walter Cronkite on the evening news every night to learn about what was happening in the world. How many of you have never heard of him?

Let me tell you a bit about Walter Cronkite (and about mainstream media at that time). Mr. Cronkite was a journalist in the truest sense of the world. He seemed to me to be a voice of pragmatism, reason, and honest reporting of the news of the day. Reporters in those days didn’t try to present a deeply filtered, political affiliation specific, either sane-washed or overly bombastic story. They reported. They weren’t hired for being telegenic or entertaining – they were journalists, working hard to dig deep into stories, and report the facts as accurately as possible. And the news in those days was A LOT.

Mr. Cronkite would come on the television (which was black & white) and tell us about the world. What was happening in politics, space travel, economics, social change, and more. Through those news reports, I learned about the Women’s Rights movement, the Civil Rights Movement, the Vietnam War, Watergate, the assassinations of Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcolm X. I learned about space travel, the Billie Jean King’s fight for equal pay in women’s tennis, and about LGTBQ+ people. I learned about Woodstock, the Summer of Love, hippies, and more. I learned about the Chicago 8 Trial and the Kent State Massacre (where non-violent student protesters were gunned down by National Guards).

My earliest memories are about the political and social upheaval happening around me. Being a child of the ‘60’s and 70’s meant that one was immersed in the changes in the world. No matter where you lived, the entirety of the western world was shifting. And me, being me, couldn’t help but get involved in community activism.

My first foray into activism was in joining the student council of my elementary school when I was in 2^nd grade. I don’t know that we accomplished much in the way of change but I do have fond memories of my principal, Mr. Foltz, who went from being a very buttoned down, clean cut man to, by 1970, was sporting long side-burns, colorful Qiana shirts, a snappy scarf tied around his neck, and flashing the peace sign at everyone.

Where my activism really began was in the anti-war movement. Down the street from my house, a mom and her 2 kids moved in with their grandparents. The kids were about my age. Their dad was active military and deployed in Vietnam. One aspect of that war was a large number of Prisoners of War and Missing in Action personnel. The mom in that family was very active in the POW/MIA Movement – trying to bring attention to those men who’d been captured or were missing and hoping to bring them home alive through political pressure to end the war. A student group, Voices in Vital America (VIVA), came up with the idea of bracelets as a way to show solidarity with missing troops and with bringing them home. Each bracelet was a cuff style, made of metal and engraved with the name, rank, and loss date of a specific serviceman. Often, people vowed to wear their bracelet until that servicemember was brought back home. Over the course of a few years, I wore 3 of them. Those bracelets were a visible and tangible way to protest the government on a daily basis and were great for those of us who couldn’t/didn’t attend protest rallies. All told, about 5 million bracelets were sold. The bracelets, along with other efforts from VIVA, helped generate enough public outcry regarding the issue of POW/MIA troops and contributed to the 1973 release of 571 prisoners.

My next pieces of activism came via the Women’s Rights Movement. Growing up as an AFAB person, who knew I was a boy from an early age in a world that was pretty unforgiving of gender expression variance, who didn’t conform to being girly and was very athletic, sports were an essential outlet for me. Playing sports, I could just be me. I’ve followed, and played, a number of sports throughout my life. As a pre-teen and through my teenage years, I was a bit obsessed with tennis. Billie Jean King showed up solidly on my radar in 1971 when she won Wimbledon for the 2^nd time. Billie Jean is a hero of mine, not just because of her skill as a player, but more importantly for her examples of activism, steadfastness, and resilience. By the 1970’s, she was the most vocal proponent of women getting the same prize money as the men at major tournaments. In 1973, she famously beat Bobby Riggs in a live televised “Battle of the Sexes” tennis match. She founded both the Women’s Tennis Association and the Women’s Sports Foundation. If any of you are AFAB and had the satisfaction of playing high school and/or college sports, you have her to thank, in large part. She was a key proponent and public face for Title IX. Title IX was passed in 1972, prohibiting sex discrimination in educational programs and activities, including sports.

THE HIGH SCHOOL YEARS

In 1973 we moved from Seattle to a small town about 30 miles southwest of Minneapolis. While my parents found many friends and a happy life, I was basically miserable in Minnesota. Whereas my masculine presentation had been accepted in Seattle by my friends, Minnesota was where I became the prime target of bullying all throughout middle and high school.

Sports, however, continued to be an especially important part of my life. Little did I know that in a few short years, my personal life, sports, and political activism would come crashing together in an unexpected way. By the time I got to middle school, I knew I was attracted to girls…..and I knew I wasn’t one. There was no information I could find anywhere about my kind of person, except in the context of being a butch lesbian. Who was attracted to Femmes.

Then, in 1976, along comes Renee Richards. Do y’all know about her? Dr. Renee Richards is a trans woman who, in 1976, sued the Women’s Tennis Association for the right to play professional tennis on the women’s tour. She was the first trans person I had ever heard of. I was fascinated. Thankfully, because of her lawsuit, there was suddenly a lot of media attention on the subject of trans people and I began to find information and sources. Sadly, none of them were about transmasculine people.

Anyway, back to Dr. Richards. Here was an example of someone who was fighting to be able to simply participate. Her personal quest became political and she chose to be public, open, scrutinized, attacked, and more – because she was driven to be able to be seen as her authentic self and to participate in society just like anyone else. And who supported her? That’s right – the WTA founder, Billie Jean King. Billie Jean submitted an affidavit saying she fully supported Dr. Richards and that she didn’t have any physical advantage over women competitors. Dr. Richards won her right to play and she played on the WTA Tour from 1977 to 1981. I was blessed to see her play in person on 2 occasions.

Five lessons I got from Dr. Richard’s fight are these:

1. The Personal is Political

2. Personal discomfort for the greater good is worthwhile

3. Never be afraid to be your authentic self

4. Allyship is action, not just words

5. True allyship, vocal and resolute, is vital to success

How did my personal activism manifest at this time?

Some of it seems paltry, but I assure you, that every decision you make to act consciously and conscientiously in harmony with your values and ethics makes a difference. I subscribed to womenSports magazine (which BJK & the Women’s Sports Foundation founded) and to Ms. Magazine. I read voraciously about trans women (I couldn’t find anything specific to trans men at the time and figured we just didn’t exist) and queer people. I read feminist authors. I learned queer history. I read about the Civil Rights Movement. And I continued to watch the evening news with Walter Cronkite and expand my education on world politics, civil rights, the migrant farm worker’s movement, and anything else I could absorb.

Once I got my driver’s license in 1979, my best friend (a fellow butch dyke) and I were traveling into Minneapolis to attend Pride events, had older friends get us into gay bars, and worked on building queer community. While I didn’t find acceptance in my town or school, I learned that I was resilient. I found those places & causes that would become the foundation of my adult activism. And most importantly, I learned to find my people and my sense of being part of something bigger – a community.

I’m going to fast forward a few years here. I graduated high school in 1981, immediately moved back to Seattle for college, and never left.

LAW SCHOOL & BEYOND

Law School

After undergrad school, I started Law School in 1985. Little did I know how much the next few years would shape the world and my activism with it.

My first day at Law School orientation I, like everyone else, was sitting in the large lecture hall scanning the crowd trying to suss out my classmates. I noticed a few other likely queers and at lunch time, we all converged together to bond. After a few months, when the abject fear and overwhelm had settled, we convened one evening to talk about forming an LGBTZQ+ student group. There were other student groups on campus but there had never been a queer one. So, we started it. It felt both risky and invigorating to be out, proud, and active at a time when it was still illegal to be queer in much of the country. Later, the other local law school started their student group. And shortly thereafter, older queer practicing lawyers joined us in starting the first local queer bar association. Over time, that group split into a private law advocacy group as well as a group within the State Bar Association.

Timberline/Community Orgs

During law school my main social outlet was country western dancing at an awesome gay country dance bar called The Timberline. Through The Timberline, I participated in fund raising, dancing in the Pride Parade, and learning more about community organizations, politics, and effective advocacy.

Once I graduated, I joined a number of boards of directors which further shaped my activism. Community organizations are a great place to get your feet wet with activism and advocacy. You can volunteer as much or as little as you have time, energy, and interest for. You’ll meet wonderful people, you’ll gain valuable skills, and you’ll impact your communities for the better.

One of the boards I was on was Alice B. Theatre. Alice B. was a queer theatre, named for Alice B. Toklas. We featured queer actors acting in plays and showcases written by, about, and for queer people. It’s where I first learned about Alan Turing. Do you all know about Turing? Turing was a truly remarkable Englishman who is considered the father of theoretical computer science. Without Turing’s work during WWII decoding Nazi war plans, it is highly likely that the outcome of the war might have been different. Turing was also gay. And was convicted under British laws against homosexuality. His sentence included chemical castration. Sadly, he took his own life in 1954 at the age of 41. Were it not for queer theatre, I may never have learned of him.

We employed queer people in theatre/performing arts jobs from prop masters to lighting and sound to costuming and hair and makeup and more. We were able to use the platform of art to bring visibility to queer art, artists, and stories. Going to the theatre also became a way of building community and connection. It taught me to never underestimate the power of art as a vehicle for social change.

Hands Off Washington

The early ’90’s were a time of significant political and legal action for LGBTQ+ folks around the country. We were still in the early days of the HIV/AIDS epidemic – and gay men in particular took the brunt of social outcry, violence, and discrimination. Politically, we were seeing more anti-discrimination laws being passed. We had seen the first domestic partnership laws passed in places like San Francisco and Seattle. We’d seen more anti-cross dressing laws repealed (although NYC had one until 2011 and we’ve now seen a resurgence of them with the various drag bans aimed at demonizing the art form of drag). We’d even seen the beginnings of more trans rights ordinances, state statutes, and legal rulings being enacted.

In Oregon, there was one particular anti-gay political activist named Lon Mabon. Lon had been on a campaign of hate in Oregon and also brought it to Washington State. He got ballot initiatives onto the ballot seeking to discriminate against LGBTQ+ people.

In Washington State, an organization called Citizens for Fairness aka Hands Off Washington was formed to defeat 2 ballot initiatives. One of the main tactics of Hands Off was sending folks door to door. Oftentimes, canvassers would end up talking to folks who had never knowingly met someone LGBTQ+. While there was hostility, there were also meaningful conversations which led people to conclude that discrimination is bad.

One of my takeaways from Hands Off was that it’s much harder for people to hate people who are different from them once they’ve met those people. In those days, it was estimated that the LGB population was about 10% of the overall population. Given what we know about self-identification today, that number is higher. And we’ve seen, over time, greater acceptance of Lesbians, Gay Men, and Bisexuals as people have been increasingly out, media representation has become more common, and most cis people have figured out that queers are not taking anything away from them.

Pride Foundation

In 1993, I joined the board of The Pride Foundation - a community granting organization which helps fund other non-profits as well as providing academic scholarships. During my time at Pride, I was also coming to terms with my own gender journey.

At one point, right before I had come out about being trans, we were discussing potential board candidates. One candidate was a trans woman and one of the other board members quipped that we could just ask her to be whatever gender we needed for the purposes of gender parity. Other folks laughed. I was livid. I got up and left. I came home and drafted an email to the entire board resigning my seat. I explained that I, too, was trans and that the blatant bigotry on display – coming from a fellow queer – was inexcusable. The person who made the quip was quick to take responsibility, apologize, and offer to resign in my place. But I declined. Leaving all of them to have to sit in the discomfort of their transphobia was more satisfying – and hopefully educational – than my staying would’ve been. This taught me about the power of confronting bias – even amongst people who you consider to be friends….or family.

HIV/AIDS

As a person in my particular age group, I can’t avoid talking to you all about the impact of HIV/AIDS on queer activism.

You have to remember that an awful lot of the hatred being directed at queers at that time was largely in reaction to the HIV/AIDS epidemic. When doctors began noticing a pattern of infection with this new disease, it was called GRID. Gay-Related Immune Deficiency. Gay men were blamed, victim shamed, discriminated against in housing and employment, and essentially given a death sentence. The cis het world saw HIV/AIDS as something happening only to gay men – it was outside of them and they didn’t need to even think about it.

But queers? We thought about it a lot. By the early ‘90’s, it wasn’t unusual for me to go to 6 or 7 funerals in a week. Lesbians took on the role of care takers to their gay & trans fem siblings. We organized food delivery programs, safer sex education, and hospice housing. We relied on one another. We danced, and partied, and laughed, and continued to be sexual beings. We created art and music and theatre. Some of us engaged in protests like ‘Die Ins’ or Marches. We created a quilt made up of many quilts so that our people would not be forgotten and so that the magnitude of loss was on visual display. Some ran for office. Lawyers argued legal cases. Some lobbied governments from local to national. We didn’t always agree with each other but we knew we were stronger together. The power of chosen family and prioritizing community efforts was palpable and led to so much positive change for LGBTQ+ people.

TRANSITION & TRANS RIGHTS

I transitioned 30 years ago, in May 1995. A lot changed for me then – not the least of which was my activism. I focused my energy on trans issues – particularly for trans masc people. There was then, as now, very little attention paid to trans men and trans masc people – and how our experiences, needs, and issues sometimes are specific to us.

My post-transition activism has been far more public facing than my pre-transition work – and I thought that had been pretty public. I’ve organized conferences, appeared in documentaries, TV, radio, & podcasts. I’ve written articles for media and law journals. I’ve run support groups – both in person and since the pandemic, on-line. I’ve done a lot of public speaking & training – for judges, my colleagues in the legal field, corporations, non-profits, & small businesses.

I’ve also continued my behind the scenes work as well. Sitting on various boards, participating in policy planning/drafting meetings with governmental agencies, & strategizing with colleagues about winning legal arguments.

MY ACTIVISM TODAY

As with anything that occurs over time, my activism has evolved and changed over the years. Currently, my activism looks more different than ever before. I started doing IG and TT videos under the brand of The Trans Dad. I share everything from Dad advice to transition tips to, more recently, information about what’s happening politically and socially. It felt important to me to ensure that younger folks know that trans people survive into old age, to share the knowledge I’ve gained over the years, and for me to be able to stay current with what’s happening within queer and trans culture.

During the pandemic I started an online bi-weekly support group – which is still running. I set some intentions for what I wanted from such a group. That it be supportive. That folks gas each other up, not tear each other down. That folks maintain the sanctity of the group. We have folks calling in from all over the world. Deep and meaningful connections have been made between participants. The level of support and camaraderie is unparalleled. I have to say this has likely been the most rewarding work of my life.

My activism also looks different now - in that I am older and I have other considerations about how to spend my energy effectively. For example, I’ve stopped going to protests in person. I physically can’t run - in the event it’s necessary. I have a disabled child and an elderly mother that I’m responsible for and can’t be absent for them. I’m older and have more health needs that make protests impossible for me. And, in this current climate, as an immigrant who is a naturalized citizen, who is trans, and very outspoken, I feel I have to be extra careful – in ways I’ve never before even thought twice about.

CONCLUSION

Thank you for taking this trip down memory lane with me. As you can see, many of the issues we face currently are not new. We’ve dealt with them before. Sometimes, like now, it’s a few steps back and then we will leap forward once again.

I’ve received many gifts in my lifetime of activism. The biggest of them is the knowledge that being unapologetically who you are is essential. Visibility is key to progress. It’s harder to hate people when you know them. We are stronger together. Everyone’s voice matters. There is no action too big or small. Whether you are on the front lines or in the background. Whether you are speaking on stages or talking to individual people. Whether you fly a pride flag, wear a t-shirt with a slogan or image, write a letter to the editor, send postcards to get out the vote, whether you create art or music, donate books to your local library, run for office, or march at a Pride event – it all matters!

Today, activism is needed more than ever. Pick any subject related to trans, non-binary, and intersex people and there is a need for your voice, your action, your support, your money, your knowledge, your expertise, and most importantly, your energy and authenticity. I hope you’ll leave here energized, full of creative ideas, and resilient.

And remember, Existence is Resistance.

Thank you.