Me, Myself, They

by Joshua M. Ferguson

  I felt vulnerable and helpless while waiting for the laws to catch up with reality with respect to human rights in this country. Of course, I can’t equate the struggle of non-binary people to achieve social recognition with our correct gender markers with other human rights violations that are committed in many parts of the world. For example, our fight for recognition is not the same as combatting the illegality of same-sex sexuality, which often results in physical violence and sometimes murder.

  The despair that I faced while waiting prompted me to continue taking action, to continue applying pressure. I wrote new op-ed pieces in VICE News and HuffPost, discussing the benefits of officially recognizing non-binary people with correct gender markers. And then I decided to travel to Toronto to show the politicians that I meant business, that I would not be ignored. My responsibility to my community necessitated that non-binary gender markers be made available to all non-binary residents. I had to keep acting for non-binary youth, adults, and parents who didn’t have a voice. I had to show the government what my determination looks like in person. My thinking was that they couldn’t ignore me if I was standing in front of them, face to face.

  I travelled to Toronto in November 2017 to visit the Ontario Legislature. I was prepared to meet the lawmakers in person, including the premier of the province, Kathleen Wynne, if it came to that. I wanted them to feel the heart of my advocacy. I wanted them to know the humanity of the issue. This wasn’t just about me; this was about our society. It was about allowing those of us who feel stifled by the binary to be a little more free with our identity, and to feel protected by a government that recognizes who we are. I wanted them to feel the distress I was experiencing on a daily basis by constantly having to present ID that didn’t match the reality of my identity.

  My visit to the Ontario Legislature was at the official invitation of my political champion, MPP Cheri DiNovo. Cheri is unwavering in her commitment to the trans community. I could tell from our very first meeting that she would champion my cause. She understood the urgency of our need to be legally recognized after being invisible and erased for so long. Cheri is a brave and brilliant woman. There is remarkable action behind her pressing political words. And her path is guided by her heart. She’s passed more lgtbq bills than any other politician in Canadian history. She gets things done! The world would be a much better place if there were more politicians like Cheri DiNovo.

  This was my first time at the Ontario Legislature. My steadfast lawyer, Mika Imai, joined me for the visit on November 27, 2017. It was a very cold day in Toronto, yet the bright sun gave me a sense of hope. I arrived at Queen’s Park a short distance from the front entrance of the Legislature and captured a short video for my social media pages. Florian was capturing B-roll for our documentary, and I was preparing myself for what was to come. How would I face them with the truth? Was I even ready for this? Would I come across more truthfully if I just let myself feel all of the wild emotions running through me that morning — the exhaustion, the worry, the stress? No, I had to be both myself and something else to appeal to all of them; I had to embody strength and perseverance, face them with composure, but also let myself be seen as an honest human being who is obviously distressed, which was the picture of truth.

  Walking into the assembly and being faced with a full view of the governing party, the Ontario Liberal Party, forced me to sit with a whole host of uncomfortable emotions. In some part, I felt naked, exposed and open, while I sat there. The politicians started to pile into their seats, their demeanour blending a posturing facade with a truthful promise for their various political purposes. It took almost the entire hour of Question Period to reach Cheri’s question about the delay of my non-binary birth certificate application and the resulting human rights complaint. With a respectful ferocity, Cheri directed the question to the Honourable Minister Tracey MacCharles, who was the Minister of Government and Consumer Services (the ministry in charge of Service Ontario), in the absence of the premier. Then, in an assertive tone, she asked the members of the government to look directly at me in the public gallery. I imagine they started to see the face of the issue at that point.

  I took hold of Florian’s hand and I started to cry. I couldn’t hold back my emotions. The pressure that I was feeling from the dozens of politicians looking at me was impossible to ignore, so I was just going to feel it. I gave in to vulnerability. I was supported by Florian, my lawyers, Cheri, and other sympathetic MPPs, but I felt pinned to the wall by the pressure of their gaze. I’m only human. I don’t represent the entirety of the issue. I was one person sitting there in front of them with tears streaming down my face. So much for composure.

  After Question Period, Cheri arranged a brief meeting between me and the Honourable Minister MacCharles. What was I going to say? Could I even meet her face to face while I was so angry and upset by the delay? MacCharles joined us outside the doors to the legislative assembly. We shook hands, and I forgot about everything that I had planned to say when our eyes met. I just spoke from my heart. I could feel her heart. She was kind, and it was obvious that she empathized with me in some way. We looked into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls. I felt as though she accepted my story. I could sense that she understood the humanity behind my face, the issue in front of her. My vital purpose for being there in person was to humanize my story, to help humanize our community, and I felt as though it had worked. At the very least, she got to see me beyond the news headlines. I left that meeting uncertain about the future, yet aware that something had shifted.

  At the end of 2017, both the Ontario and the British Columbia Human Rights Tribunals accepted my complaints. This acceptance appealed to the respective provinces to either agree to settlement discussions or prove legal rationale for the alleged discrimination that I had faced as a result of the delays and denials. We engaged in confidential discussions with both provinces in early 2018. Months later, I was able to share positive news with the public.

  April 19, 2018

  I’m an amazon, a fucking warrior. I have survived so much. I can get through this, and I will. It’s so easy to focus on the worry and fear instead of the victory. I feel like I am moving closer to the end — a feeling that seemed unattainable last week.

  I am trying to hold on to the victory, the hope it will create, the lives it might save, the hearts it will warm. I’m at the intersection of many different paths in my life right now. Seeing beyond what’s right in front of me is a survival mechanism. It is also obscuring the moments of my life where I am making magic, weaving and casting spells from within my reservoir of purpose and passion. I am doing it. I am contributing to change, the great tidal shift in our culture. I am doing this. I just have to remind myself in the moment to enjoy it, to revel in the victory instead of always preparing for what’s to come, the next battle, the new fight since it always seems like I am having to fight for respect and dignity.

  People ask why I have to fight, why can’t I just accept my position in society and live my life? Well, it’s for that very reason that I have to fight. It gets exhausting to explain myself over and over again, to reassert myself, and to try to get people to understand me. At the very least, I deserve to be respected and valued as a human being. Yet, I don’t always receive this dignity from other people. I find myself getting stretched thin by the inability of people to see me like any other human being. It’s always Joshua the game-changer, Joshua the ground-breaker, Joshua the transgender person, Joshua the shit-disturber who never shuts up. Intimidating as I might be to some people, I am just hoping for validation and respect like every other human being. It’s tough to always be treated like the one who sticks out from the crowd, the black sheep, and yes, I suppose that I am putting myself out there to be visible and vocal, but the purpose is beyond just me. This is bigger than Joshua. It is more than me. I am fighting for the hundreds of thousands of trans people across Canada and the millions beyond who have to face suffering, stig
ma, and fear because of who we are. This is why I will never give up.

  May 4, 2018

  I typed “Service Ontario birth certificate” into Google after returning to Canada from a trip overseas. Clicking on the link, I scrolled down to the part of the website listing change of sex designation information. There it is. The policy in all its glory sitting there completely public on the Service Ontario website. The policy clearly states that a person with an Ontario birth certificate can apply for a change of sex designation to Male (M), Female (F), and Non-Binary (X). It also included a sentence with the other part of the two-fold policy, the so-called gender-neutral option which now provides an option to apply to have sex designation removed from birth certificates entirely. I could hardly believe my eyes. It’s finally real.

  I want people to know. They have a right to know. This is a victorious day not just for me, but for the entire community, for all of humanity.

  I now have my birth certificate in hand. Well, maybe not literally in hand, but it’s with my Dad in Ottawa. The documents are sitting safely in my old bedroom, where I sat in my early twenties gazing out at the stars, wishing for love that was granted with Florian, and wishing to change lives, to save lives, to make life just a bit easier for myself and others. My wish has been granted. It’s a wonderful feeling to be officially recognized and counted by the place of my birth for who I really am. Ironically, the X-Men were one of my favourite super-hero teams growing up, and the treatment of their mutations bears a striking analogy to the experience of LGBTQ people. And now, I am literally an “X-(Man)/(male)” — it actually says it on the registration of my birth. “Male” is now in parenthesis with an “X” outside of the brackets beside it. Joshua the X-male. The truth of this is actually quite funny, and it makes me feel good.

  I am counting down the moments to when I can finally hold my new birth certificate in my hands. I will run in that door, up the stairs and into my room, rip open the envelope, and hold it close to my heart.

  On May 7, 2018, I went public with the news that I had become the first person in Ontario to be issued a non-binary birth certificate. I had to prepare myself for this day, and it didn’t come easy. I wrote about my experience in an op-ed piece for the Toronto Star.

  My non-binary birth certificate

  a victory for the trans community

  Almost one year ago, on May 12, 2017, I walked into the central Service Ontario office in Toronto to apply for my non-binary birth certificate. I had no idea about the challenges and the emotional roller-coaster that faced me.

  After Ontario delayed my application, and a subsequent human rights application, finally, I now have my non-binary birth certificate. It’s a victory for me. It’s a victory for our community.

  After years of having the system define me, that has now changed. With the new Service Ontario policy for birth certificates, people in the province now have a choice beyond male and female on their birth certificates and it illustrates that non-binary people exist — we are Ontarians and we are Canadians.

  The province has made history by becoming the first jurisdiction in the world to implement a twofold policy for birth certificates.

  Birth certificates are now more inclusive. The policy achieves a respectful balance by recognizing non-binary people who want official sex markers, trans and cis people who don’t want any sex markers at all, and the men, women and children who do not want these policy changes to affect their birth certificates.

  To be clear, on the birth certificates of newborn children, parents will still be able to designate M, F or now an X (especially for the 1 in 1,500 babies born intersex), or they can choose not to list the sex designation of their child at all — allowing their child to one day self-determine their gender identity. The policy will have zero impact on the majority of Ontarians who want their birth certificates to stay the same.

  Every time a trans person is forced to present a piece of ID designating incorrect sex markers, it exposes us to anxiety and distress because it is a vital part of our existence in society.

  Commonplace experiences, such as travelling through airports, attending school and picking up parcels, can turn into stressful and painful events for trans people when we are forced to present personal information that does not match who we are.

  Frequently, when I present my ID with an M or Male listed, the postal worker, bank teller, airport employee looks at me like there is something wrong with me because my ID doesn’t match what I look like. These situations can range from stares to questioning the validity of my ID and therefore my existence.

  Ontario’s new policy will save lives.

  It will have a profound positive impact on the lives of trans people. It will give people a choice for their birth certificates and it will give hope to trans people across the country who still live in provinces with governments that fail to recognize who they are, especially people who are neither men nor women.

  In part, motivating a policy that officially recognizes non-binary people in Ontario has become one of my proudest moments. I was tormented as a gender-nonconforming child, teenager and young adult at the hands of people who verbally harassed and physically assaulted me. I don’t want other children to grow up feeling the sting of another person’s fist or the sharp, dehumanizing verbal abuse because their gender identity or expression isn’t officially recognized and protected on government-issued ID.

  Research from the University of Texas emphasizes that trans youth have suicidal thoughts at twice the rate of their peers, and 1 out of 3 trans youth have considered suicide.

  The National Center for Transgender Equality in the U.S. states: “gender incongruent ID exposes people to a range of negative outcomes, from denial of employment, housing and public benefits to harassment and physical violence.”

  Trans Pulse at Western University “found a significant decrease in suicide risk among those who had ID documents matching their expressed gender. Having proper ID was found to have the potential to prevent 90 in 1,000 trans people from seriously considering suicide.”

  What matters is that people value and respect each other even if we don’t agree. To elevate basic dignity for one another is the power of our shared humanity.

  It was one of the most intense moments of my life. So much had led up to it. I was overwhelmed with it all. Everything came full circle — an entire year of fighting, worrying, and stressing out about all the possible outcomes — and finally I had claimed my victory.

  On the morning of May 7, as the media was picking up on the story, Florian and I made our way to meet Kathleen Monk, an expert in communications who kindly supported me, at the Human Rights Monument in Ottawa for a press conference. I was feeling my nerves, but I was prepared. I stood confident in front of the monument, where many human rights activists had stood before me, knowing that this policy would save lives. The day was about my fight, and my victory — but it was also more than that. The weight of responsibility loosened its grip on me and I felt free.

  I posted a one-minute video taken with my iPhone to Twitter on May 8; it showed me discussing the news and its significance for the non-binary community in Canada and beyond. Twitter made it a “Twitter Moment,” and I was surprised to see that the video received over fifty-thousand views within just a few hours. The story of my victory was featured in the national press; NowThis News created a video about the story that generated more than three hundred thousand views; and then NBC News reported on it, which brought an international audience into the mix. It was scary, but I knew how important the moment was for non-binary visibility. I could hear my champions cheering me on.

  Fighting for legal recognition opened new creative opportunities for me. Earlier, I had helped foster non-binary representation and awareness with our film Limina, and now I felt as though I had to do more. I felt like it was time to tell my story, to bear my truth visually in artistic form. I wanted to carve out the space of n
on-binary representation to create representation where it doesn’t exist.

  Two chapters in my doctoral dissertation analyzed trans representation in documentary film. I had studied many trans documentaries in detail. The way that some of these films captured their subjects, manipulated their stories, sensationalized their lives, and objectified bodies was a pattern of representation that I wanted to move beyond. Many trans documentaries focus on similar narratives of trans identity: representing a trans person’s transition. I saw the same transition story over and over again, just with different people. But I didn’t see my transition story in these films. I wanted my kind of trans representation to be included in the landscape of documentary cinema. So I embarked on a path to create my own representation.

  The idea for a documentary about my life first came up while I was fighting for legal recognition. Early in the fight, after I had publicly applied for my Ontario non-binary birth certificate in May 2017, I was approached by a number of Canadian funding bodies and networks with interest in creating a film about my advocacy. I knew from the beginning that if we were to tell my story in a documentary it would have to be intimate, personal, and highly subjective. I didn’t want the influence of a major broadcaster altering my story to fit business objectives. I opened up to those around me I trusted most, asking for their advice. Wisdom came from a good friend of mine, Jules Arita Koostachin, who advised me from her own experience with storytelling and truth-telling.