Your Lovable Trans Auntie is here to answer your questions about love, life, and identity

Kiki was her name.

Even before her transitioning, everyone in the family called her Kiki. Elisabeth, her mother, gave her the nickname as a kid as if she somehow saw into her seventh child's future.

Music was her life, so hearing her belt out 90s pop and R&B tunes by Mariah Carey, Mary J. Blige, and Whitney Houston wouldn't be surprising. If it wasn't the Motown hits blasting that woke up the house, her cooking wafted certainly would. Always a feast fit for royalty. She was well-known in the neighborhood, primarily for her wit and sass, and no one questioned or teased how she walked, talked, or gestured.

She was just, well, Kiki.

With only four years separating us by age, Kiki was more like an older sibling than my mother's youngest. We loved watching wrestling (she terrified me whenever she reenacted Papa Shango), and we would join in whenever Uncle Andy, her older brother, and his friend DJ Green Lantern hosted house parties. Kiki never teased me when I chose female characters in Mortal Kombat or Mario Kart. And she never raised an eyebrow when I walked, talked, or gestured similarly. I was free to be myself, even when I didn't have the words to describe how I felt inside.

She began her transitioning as a teen in the late 90s. It was a very different world then, yet at the same time, not too unfamiliar with the prejudices of today. The world didn't open its arms to a Black trans woman, especially one who never demured her authentic self for anyone. And yet, she persevered and found her path—not always the most noble, but one where her head was held high. Like the characters in Pose, she found comfort and chosen family through ballroom. She offered support and found herself at a local nonprofit for Black and Brown queer and trans individuals. She always provided words of wisdom, sometimes a bit too frankly, to youths who were trying to find their authentic selves. She was a friend, a house mother, a community activist, and someone who always offered to make a difference and comfort with a plate of her food.

But to me, she was my Aunt Kiki.

She was there during the first part of my transition, celebrating my journey and warning me of what lay ahead. The world certainly didn't look kindly on trans folks in the early 2000s, and sadly, neither did members of our family. As the oldest child and grandchild, I dealt with the pressures of having the best grades and leading the ideal life they expected me to have. Any deviations from that would not happen, even as a cis femme teen. Not to mention the fears and worries of not having equitable employment, housing, or healthcare as a trans adult. That lack of support within my family and the occasional hostility towards trans bodies forced me to go back into the proverbial closet.

I admired Kiki's strength when I could not be strong for myself.

Sadly, in her final years, we grew increasingly distant. I focused on school, and she put her heart into being a house mother. Still, she remained the aunt I could occasionally talk to and confide in about life. One of our last conversations was about coming to terms with the unexpected death of her mother. Kiki was inconsolable, as her mother was her closest confidante and ally in a world slowly understanding the fears and hopes of trans folks. Sadly, a few months after my grandmother's passing, she passed away, too.

Kiki was only 31.

Over a decade later, there are still moments when I wish she were here. When I wish both of them were here. And, yet, I feel them present on occasion, from how I walk proudly down the street to how I stand up for myself even when I'm trembling inside. From speaking in my truth to giving advice when, well, no one was asking for it—but greatly appreciated it.

I continue to live in the name of Kiki's memory. In honor of my late, lovable trans auntie, I wanted to impart wisdom with charm, frankness, and humor. And so, on a random mid-October day, I launched theLovable Trans Auntie series. It's been fun, empowering, challenging, and rewarding learning how to amplify my voice on and off social media. So, where do I go from here?

Well, you're reading it.

Each week, I'll cover some of life's big questions—love, work, identity, and beyond—offering you a uniquely trans perspective through the voice of your new favorite auntie. Witty, warm, and wise, I hope to give you a safe, relatable space to find support and understanding. Consider this column a regular space where you can laugh, reflect, and find shelter from a world that isn't always the most affirming. And while Auntie might not have all the answers, I'm here to help, reminding you that you're never alone on this life journey. Have a question you're burning to ask? Feel free to email me at voices@equalpride.com.

So, please stay tuned every Wednesday for the latest column. Until next week, stay safe and fill your space with love. And remember, Auntie knows best!

(Well, sometimes.)