LISA SALAZAR — BLOG

  Content Note:   This reflection includes mention of past sexual violence and gender-based trauma, and death by suicide. Please take care while reading. Living Openly, Growing Weary I live openly as a trans woman. I have for nearly two decades. I am not hiding. I do not lie about who I am. And I am not ashamed. I live in Canada, but grew up in San Jose, CA. And while I am grateful for the life I’ve built, I would be lying if I said I’m not growing weary. A Gathering Storm It’s not any one thing that weighs on me — it’s the convergence of so many. The political climate. The chilling laws being passed across borders. The ease with which people talk about us as if we are problems to be solved, threats to be managed, or ideologies to be banned. All of which has led to a rising sense of vigilance — a low-grade hum of alertness I’ve carried for years, now amplified by headlines and policies that feel like erasure by design. “Who gets to decide who matters?” Even seemingly unrelated...

A Reflection on Fear, Control, Transphobia and the Illusion of Certainty The recent surge in anti-trans rhetoric has left many asking, “Why so much now?” For me, the answer keeps circling back to something deeply human: our need for certainty in the face of fear. Especially fear of death, of change, of losing identity. In my studies as a Spiritual Health Practitioner, I’ve come across a psychological framework that helped everything click:  Terror Management Theory  (TMT), [1]—the idea that much of our behaviour is driven by our need to fend off the reality of our mortality. Terror Management Theory and Transphobia TMT was inspired by the work of cultural anthropologist and philosopher  Ernest Becker , whose Pulitzer Prize–winning book  The Denial of Death  argued that much of human behaviour is driven by our fear of mortality. Becker suggested that we construct cultural worldviews—religious doctrines, national identities, moral codes, to give life meaning and t...

A Hopeful Reflection for Troubled Times: The Quiet Power of Family Love There was a time when I carried a hidden burden, uncertain if the people I loved most would still see me—truly see me—if I revealed my deepest truth. But when I finally shared my journey of becoming Lisa with my parents and my sons, the walls I had lived behind for so long crumbled. In their place, love remained—unconditional, steadfast, and freeing. Since then, I have woken up to a life where transparency and trust are no longer distant dreams but daily realities. And now, years later, I look at my granddaughters—the next generation—and marvel at the quiet but profound ways love and understanding continue to expand. It’s what gives me hope for the future. When my oldest granddaughter, barely school-aged at the time, softly told me, "I know you are my Daddy’s Daddy," it was a moment of pure grace. She saw me, not with judgment or confusion, but with the natural acceptance that children so often model for ...