On March 31, 2026, over 150 people gathered in Kelowna to mark Trans Day of Visibility under the theme Living Trans. Ordinary Lives. Extraordinary Courage. The evening was organized by Advocacy Canada’s board and brought to life by a team of dedicated volunteers who gave their time so the community could simply show up and be present. It was, by every measure, extraordinary.
The session opened with a frame that held the whole evening: “Trans Day of Visibility is a day to celebrate, to witness, and to tell the truth. Tonight, we want to do all three.”
A Living Proof of What’s Possible
The evening’s keynote speaker was Mardi Pieronek, known to hundreds of thousands of online followers as Mardipants. Mardi came not as a theorist or a policy voice but as something rarer and more necessary: a trans elder. Her presence on that stage was itself the message.
She spoke about what it has meant, historically, for trans people to grow old. For most of trans history, reaching senior years was not something that could be counted on, planned for, or even imagined with confidence. The compounding weight of stigma, rejection, inadequate healthcare, violence, and erasure meant that many trans people never got there. Growing old while trans was, for a long time, an unlikely outcome rather than an ordinary expectation.
Mardi has lived past that horizon. And in doing so, she has become something that younger trans people are only beginning to have access to: proof. Proof that a full life is possible. That you can be trans and reach your senior years and still be here, still be yourself, still be visible. For many in the room, seeing her on that stage answered a question they may not have known they were carrying.
That is what trans elders offer that no policy or advocacy letter can fully replicate. They offer the evidence of a life.
What the Room Told Us
As part of the evening, participants were invited to engage with a live interactive session through Mentimeter. The questions were direct and the answers were honest. What the community shared that night matters beyond the room it was shared in, and we want to make sure it doesn’t get filed away. This is what you told us.
“Gay.” “Good.” “Grateful.”
The first question was simple: How are you feeling about being at this event today?
Ninety-three people responded. The word cloud they generated together was a portrait of a community that arrived carrying a lot. The single most common response, submitted twenty-five times, was “gay”, a statement of pride in the room and in one another. Close behind it were “good,” “excited,” “grateful,” “happy,” and “hopeful.”
But there was also “nervous.” “Anxious.” “Tired.” One person typed “fucked.” Another typed “sad.” And someone typed “this is a beautiful event.” All of it was true at once.
That tension, joy and exhaustion living side by side in the same body, in the same room, is one of the truest things the data captured. Trans and non-binary people in this political moment are not permitted the luxury of feeling only one thing at a time. The fact that “hopeful” appeared seven times and “proud” appeared five times, in a year like this one, is not a small thing. It is an act of will.
Who Was in the Room
Eighty-eight participants placed a pin on a map indicating how they were joining the evening. The majority placed themselves in the ally circle. A substantial cohort placed their pins in the trans and non-binary circle, and several placed them at the intersection, a reminder that identity and solidarity are not always separate coordinates.
That mix mattered for everything that followed. The questions directed specifically at trans and non-binary participants generated some of the most important data we collected. The questions directed at allies generated some of the most moving responses of the night.
Safety: An Honest Reckoning
Thirty-nine trans and non-binary participants responded to the question about personal safety in daily life.
Twenty of them ranked “reasonably safe” first. Seventeen ranked “I sometimes don’t feel safe” first. Two ranked “I mostly don’t feel safe” first. When you weight the full ranking, the picture is not one of a community living freely. It is one of a community managing, navigating, calculating.
More than half of the trans and non-binary respondents indicated that safety is not a given in their daily lives. That is not a statistic to set aside. It is the central fact that justifies every event, every advocacy letter, every rally, every resource we produce at Advocacy Canada. Behind that number are real people, in this city, making real decisions every day about where to go, what to say, and how much of themselves to bring into a given space.
What Trans and Non-Binary People Want from Allies
Thirty-two trans and non-binary participants answered the question: What is one thing you’d like allies to do to help make Kelowna a safer, more affirming place?
Taken together, their responses form something close to a community mandate. The themes that appeared again and again were these:
Speak up, not just at events like this one, but in ordinary moments. In workplaces. In churches. At family dinners. When no trans person is in the room to hear it. One respondent put it plainly: “Correct and comment when you hear peers and coworkers saying harmful stuff even if there aren’t any trans or nonbinary humans to hear it.”
Use and share pronouns. Normalize them. Correct others when they get it wrong, especially when the trans person isn’t present to advocate for themselves.
Show up consistently. One respondent asked allies to “show up on days other than TDOV or TDOR. Listen to our community, uncenter yourself. Do better in your workplace, church, etc.” Another asked for “more word of mouth that we are not a threat to society.” These are not complicated requests. They ask for steady, ordinary presence.
There were also calls for material support: free binders, more affordable testosterone, more age-inclusive community spaces, businesses that do more than fly a flag in June. One person asked allies to “vote like your kids are trans.” Another asked them to petition government to secure rights.
And one person wrote: “intention and effort matter, we don’t need to get hung up on what is ‘most correct.'” That one is worth keeping close.
Solidarity: Strong at Events Like This
Thirty-five trans and non-binary participants answered the question about solidarity from the broader 2SLGBTQIA+ community in Kelowna. Thirteen of them ranked “the solidarity only feels strong at events like this” in first place. Eleven ranked “the solidarity sometimes feels strong” first. Seven ranked “the solidarity feels quite strong” first. Four ranked “I don’t feel much solidarity” first.
The dominant answer tells us something. Events like this one are not supplementary. They are not nice-to-haves. For many trans and non-binary people in this city, they are the primary site of felt solidarity. Which means that when we cancel, when we scale back, when we decide the moment is too difficult or the political climate too uncertain, we are withdrawing the one reliable source of connection many people have. We will not be doing that.
Moments of Connection
Twenty-six trans and non-binary participants shared moments or experiences of feeling connected or included within the local community. What came back was a portrait of a community building belonging in the spaces available to it: drag shows at Pony Cabaret and Ella’s. The UBCO pride community, named with genuine gratitude, “THANK YOU THEO AND NOAH AT UBCO PRIDE.” Hockey teammates who just let someone play. Hair salons that reached out with acceptance. A faith community. A friend who corrects anyone who misgenders you, without being asked, every time.
One person wrote: “Meeting a random (I assume cis) person at a pot shop talking loudly about protesting Tara Armstrong and anti-SOGI policies. I spoke up and we connected in that moment on an important issue.”
One person wrote: “Good online connection. IRL not so much.”
One person wrote: “I was terminated from my job as a result of my trans identity.”
All of these responses were given in the same session, to the same question. The range of experience within this community is vast. Inclusion, when it exists, often depends on individual acts of human decency rather than systemic support. That is precisely the gap that organizations like Advocacy Canada exist to close.
What Allies Wrote
Forty-nine allies wrote messages of support for the trans and non-binary people in the room. We are not going to summarize them – you may read them in the document link at the bottom of this article. A few, offered here in the spirit they were given:
“There are so many people who love you. We just need to be louder than the hate.”
“I want my kids to grow up in a community where trans and non-binary people are celebrated. I support you here, today, and every day.”
“I will stand beside you, behind you or in front of you. Whatever you need.”
“Trans and nonbinary people make our world a better place for all.”
And, quoted from Rebecca Solnit by one attendee: “Joy doesn’t betray but sustains activism. And when you face a politics that aspires to make you fearful, alienated and isolated, joy is a fine act of insurrection.”
Why This Data Matters
This session was designed to do more than create a meaningful experience in the room. It was designed to generate baseline data: to give us a picture of how trans and non-binary people in Kelowna are feeling right now, what they need, and where they feel the community is succeeding or falling short. We will be bringing this session back. The numbers will change and we want to track them.
More than fifty percent of trans and non-binary respondents said safety is not reliable in their daily lives. Solidarity, for the largest group, only reliably feels strong at events like this one. These are the conditions under which trans people in Kelowna are living right now. These numbers are not abstract. They describe our neighbours, our family members, our colleagues, and our community members.
Events like the Trans Day of Visibility gathering are vital not because they feel good, though they do. They are vital because they are, for many people, the most concrete evidence available that they are not alone. Advocacy Canada is committed to making that evidence available, consistently and without hesitation, for as long as it is needed.
Your voice matters. Your story matters. You matter.
We couldn’t have held this event without a team of community partners, sponsors, and volunteers. Our absolute gratitude to all.
Advocacy Canada is a national human rights organization focused on 2SLGBTQIA+ people, based in Kelowna, British Columbia.
Full results from the interactive audience session are available here. TDOV 2026 Audience Participation
