I was born in the late 1960s and raised in a conservative Midwest city in Michigan. My childhood was shaped by the silence surrounding anything different, especially anything related to gender identity. There were no role models, no examples, and no hints that someone like me could exist, let alone thrive. I learned quickly that if I wanted to survive, I had to hide.
So I buried my truth. I kept it locked away for decades, afraid of the consequences if anyone discovered the girl inside me. The loneliness of that silence is something I would never wish on anyone.
That is why stories of trans visibility today matter so deeply. When I see Sam Nicoresti, a proud transgender comedian from Birmingham, winning one of the most prestigious comedy awards at the Edinburgh Fringe, I cannot help but think about the ripple effects. Younger trans people will see her smiling, standing tall on that stage, and know they are not weird, not broken, and not alone. They will see that being transgender does not limit what you can do. In fact, it may give you a voice and a strength you did not know you had.
This article is not just about Nicoresti or one award. It is about what visibility means, why it matters, and how it shapes hope for every generation of transgender people.
RELATED: Sam Nicoresti Wins Best Comedy Show at Edinburgh Fringe
Visibility as a Lifeline
For transgender people, visibility is not just a matter of representation. It is survival. Growing up without seeing anyone like me, I internalized every cruel stereotype I heard. I believed the whispers that trans people were deviant, strange, or destined for ridicule. If I had seen someone successful, happy, and unapologetically trans when I was a child, my entire sense of self could have been different.
Visibility shatters the illusion that being trans is rare or unnatural. When a trans person wins an award, appears on TV, plays sports, or simply walks down the street with confidence, it tells the world, and especially trans youth, that we exist. We are part of the human story.
Every time a trans person is visible in a positive way, another closet door somewhere in the world creaks open.
RELATED: Report Finds 2.8 Million Transgender People Living in the U.S.
Why Role Models Matter
Research consistently shows that LGBTQ+ youth with role models are less likely to experience depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts. Role models provide proof that you can grow up, live authentically, and build a meaningful life.
When I was young, I had no such proof. I did not know there was a future for someone like me. That uncertainty is devastating. It tells you your choices are either to hide forever or risk rejection.
Visibility changes that equation. Imagine being a teenager, sitting on your bed with your phone in hand, scrolling through social media. Instead of cruel comments or mocking jokes, you see a transgender woman holding a comedy award, smiling with joy. You realize she is not a punchline; she is a headline. That moment of recognition can plant the seed of hope that grows into resilience.
Breaking the “You’re Limited” Myth
One of the most damaging lies about trans people is that we are somehow “less than,” incapable, or doomed to failure. TERFs (trans-exclusionary radical feminists) and gender-critical voices repeat these claims endlessly: that we are confused, dangerous, or unfit for public life.
Visibility dismantles those lies in real time. When Sam Nicoresti stands on stage, delivering jokes that land with critics and audiences alike, she proves that talent is not diminished by being trans. In fact, her perspective enriches her art.
Trans people are everywhere: doctors, parents, athletes, teachers, comedians, engineers, and politicians. We are not limited. The only limits are those society tries to place on us. Every visible success story chips away at those walls.
Visibility vs. Tokenism
It is important to acknowledge that visibility is not always easy. Being “the first” comes with pressure and scrutiny. Too often, institutions celebrate one trans success story and then claim the work is done. That is not visibility. That is tokenism.
Real visibility means creating space for many trans voices, not just one. It means recognizing the diversity within the trans community: Black trans women, disabled trans people, nonbinary people, immigrants, elders, and youth. When all of these voices are visible, it becomes harder for society to reduce us to caricatures.
Hope for the Next Generation
When I came out later in life, I carried decades of silence and shame. Yet every time I see trans visibility in the news, I think of the younger generation and how much freer their futures can be.
I imagine a trans girl in Michigan today, sitting in a conservative town not unlike the one I grew up in. Maybe she is scared. Maybe she feels alone. But she turns on the TV or opens her TikTok feed and sees someone like Sam Nicoresti celebrated on the world stage. For her, the message is clear: “You belong. Your story is worth telling. You can dream big.”
That kind of hope is powerful medicine. It saves lives.
The Courage to Step Out of the Closet
Closets are heavy. They are built from fear, rejection, and the constant policing of who we are. I stayed in mine for far too long because I did not believe there was another option.
Visibility gives people permission to open the door. It shows that stepping out, while still difficult, does not always lead to tragedy. Sometimes, it leads to triumph.
Not everyone can come out safely, especially in hostile political climates, but seeing trans people living openly helps chip away at the myth that secrecy is the only way to survive.
Fighting Back Against Hate
Visibility also plays a vital role in countering misinformation. TERFs and gender-critical activists thrive in shadows, spreading myths about trans lives. When trans people are invisible, those lies spread unchecked.
But when a trans comedian wins a major award, when a trans athlete competes, when a trans politician is elected, the public sees a different reality. The lies crumble.
The more people know us, not as headlines but as neighbors, coworkers, and friends, the less power hatred has. Visibility turns abstract fear into human connection.
The Power of Joy
Visibility does not just have to be about survival or politics. It is also about joy. Seeing a trans person laugh, create, fall in love, succeed, or simply exist with happiness is revolutionary in its own way.
For me, the most moving part of Nicoresti’s win was not the award itself. It was her words: “I did this for the queers making weird art.” That is joy. That is solidarity. That is a reminder that our community thrives not only in resilience but also in creativity and love.
Building a Future Where No One Has to Hide
The ultimate goal of visibility is not just headlines or awards. It is a world where no trans child grows up believing they must hide. It is a world where young people can imagine futures for themselves without fear.
That means continuing to support trans representation in arts, politics, education, sports, and everyday life. It means celebrating wins like Nicoresti’s while also pushing for structural changes such as safer schools, inclusive healthcare, and legal protections.
Visibility is one step, but it is a step that makes all the others possible.
The Bottom Line
At 56, I look back at the lonely child I once was. The child with no role models, no hope, and no roadmap. If she could see the world today, with trans comedians winning awards, trans athletes competing, and trans politicians leading, she would not believe it.
But it is real. We are here. We are visible. And every success story proves that we are not weird, not broken, and not the caricatures our critics paint us to be.
To every young trans person reading this: you are not limited. You are not strange. You are part of a long, beautiful line of people who have dared to be themselves. Because of visibility, because of stories like Sam Nicoresti’s, you do not have to wait decades to step into your light.
Being seen is powerful. Being seen is healing. And being seen means knowing you are never alone.
