Today is the Trans Day of Visibility. It’s a day I’ve felt cynical about in past years.

The discussion around trans rights gets seen a lot. Whether it’s philosophical or academic debates on “what is a woman”, we’re also seeing the persecution of trans rights currently being seen most visibly under Trump’s government, but also the slow and steady dismantling of trans healthcare (particularly for under-18s) from Labour and Wes Streeting and legal protections in the UK through the courts emboldening transphobia.

But seldom in that visibility are actual trans people. There are a number of names involved in “the trans debate” but very few of those names are actually trans people. What we need is for trans people to be seen too.

What I need is not only to be seen as a hot topic or debate item, but to be seen as a person, messy and imperfect as everyone else. Not as a predator undertaking a shady underhand attempt to erode women’s rights (which as a woman protect me as much as anyone else, why would I try to erode them) who wants to destroy western civilisation or whatever UK broadsheets are accusing people like me of today, but as a human being who loves skiing, sharing bottles of wine with friends, making terrible jokes and turning up at the pub quiz to have a go at winning the prize. A software engineer who got elected to represent her local area, motivated by making the world a tiny bit better every day.

I discussed this cynicism with my partner this morning and she told me that despite all that, this day is still important to her. She transitioned 2 decades before me, and back then, the recommendation from NHS doctors was to transition, then cut off your existing friends and family, move to a new town, and start a new life, living “stealth” where no-one would know you were trans. As if being trans was a shameful thing that needed to be hidden. She’s no longer “stealth” and living out and proud and is so much happier for it, for her that visibility is important.

And I reflected on this for me. And I realised that if we had today’s visibility 20 years ago, then my story would be very different. I spent decades in the closet because I didn’t see myself as a trans person. The very few trans people who were visible were not people who reflected my own trans-ness, instead the discussion focussed on genitalia and surgeries rather than the dysphoria that I did not realise I was experiencing.

It was when the pandemic started and I ended up watching the coming out stories of small, independent trans creators on YouTube that I finally saw my own trans-ness reflected back at me and it forced me to realise that yes, I was trans. I wasted decades wishing I was trans but denying myself that experience because I had an overly narrow view on transness. I was jealous at those who were “allowed” to be, and if we had today’s level of visibility of what life is like as a trans person, my life would be different.

So despite my cynicism over the type of visibility we need, I am proud to be seen, today, as a trans person. I hope that being me, my full self, my imperfect self, my professional or campaigning self, or my joyful self full of love for friends and family, is seen and can help someone looking for it.

* Chris Northwood (she/her) is a councillor in Manchester, deputy group leader of the Manchester Liberal Democrats and member of Federal Council.